Allison Hurd's Blog, page 11

I’m Not Procrastinating, I’m Strategizing

New Year resolutions are such crap.

“What do you want to start this year with?”

“I’d like to prove that I yet again don’t have the moxy to commit to real change and to feel bad about myself for the next several months!”

“Excellent! You’re such an inspiration! Good luck!”

Let’s break it down.

First, it’s right after the largest two (three!) gluttonous holidays in the United States. You start the sugar dependency with Halloween. “What can it hurt?” you ask yourself like you always do. “I’m just gonna finish some of this candy.” And then you eat the rest by yourself with a glass of wine because screw it, you were so good all summer, and it’s not like you’re eating it all at once! You’re not a child, you’re a mature, moderating adult who can definitely constrain themselves to having only one of each kind of candy in the bag a night.

By the time the bag is gone, people are starting to bake for Friendsgiving or because they just need one more hit and the pixie sticks ran out last week. “I don’t want to be rude,” you mutter, sampling one of each co-worker’s cookies. And then of course is the real deal, Thanksgiving. Dieting on Thanksgiving? Are you a masochist? Eat the damn pie and be grateful already.

And now of course you’re well and truly hooked on carbs. There’s the leftovers, and then the crazed mania of remembering that it’s not so hard to make these foods, followed by the sheer, yet inevitable horror of trying to button your pants and recalling why you don’t actually always make these foods.

Just in time to compound the issue, is the round of holiday parties, each with its own cookie swap or homemade eggnog or latke-splosion. Smash cut to you curled in the dark, telling yourself that it will be all right, just have one carrot and then you can have another sugar cookie.

It didn’t have to be like this!

Exhausted mentally and physically now that stairs are much harder to handle after the three month run on cakes, you look in your closet and despair. You’re supposed to look like When Harry Met Sally or Sex in the City right the hell now.

So you make your promises. “I’ll get back on the wagon first thing tomorrow.”

But it’s winter, the roads suck, the store is mobbed again because of the weather, and pizza seems like a good alternative to endangering your life. Body wants carbs. Body needs carbs. Body will stop at nothing for carbs.

Before you know it, it’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day and let’s face it, you’re going to pretend you’re doing charity again this year. Maybe round up some clothes for Good Will and share something on Facebook about having a dream, conveniently bypassing all of Dr. King’s wisdom on the nature of struggle. Well, clearly, you need to eat about this, both to escape the shame and the rage at watching people abuse a brilliant man’s words.

And now it’s basically February and you’re so far away from the bandwagon, you might as well just lie down and take a nap.

I therefore propose instead of tormenting ourselves with our aspirations in the cold and dark, we wait until spring! When green foods are born and sound almost as good as pie, helped by the fact we’ve now eaten so much pie that anything else sounds almost as delicious! When outdoors doesn’t hurt our faces and it’s nicer to be there for things like exercise and taking pictures for Instagram enjoying nature. We could call it “Spring Into Action” or “Sun’s out, run about” or, I guess, New Growth Resolutions and then we wouldn’t feel bad about our squandered winters.

But maybe that’s just me. If it’s just me, don’t tell me. If it isn’t just me, I’ll see you for Sun’s Out!

My What A Guy

This is something I wrote shortly after the #metoo movement began. I had finally seen the live action Beauty and the Beast, right as Andy Lasseter of Pixar fame was quietly asked to take an extended vacation. Here’s to every Belle I know. I’ve seen your Beasts, Gastons, and gossiping townfolk. You’re not alone.

The most devious aspect about Gaston is that he’s so infrequently seen as the villain in the stories told by his peers. To some—to most—he’s a shining paragon of manhood. The man other men want to be, that women vie for and excuse. Handsome, daring, strong, decisive, successful in a small pond sort of way. Popular and talented, with people ready to hang on his every word. Which of course is how real villains hide. He’s respected, she’s not, so why would anyone believe he’s cornered her in her house? Who would believe that she didn’t want to kiss him? Because for a select few, he is a monster, with canine teeth bared in a grimace that says “pretend we’re joking, or I will eat you.” The wolf, carefully not looking at the hen house.

Gaston is the little boy, just playing. The sycophants replaced with teachers who laugh as he demands a little girl stop building with blocks until she plays out the scene from Beauty and the Beast that they’ve played since the little boy’s family first took him to the cartoon in theatres. He does not want to play the show of cutlery and food or the battle on the rooftops or the iconic dance. The game is to corner the little girl in a playhouse and try to kiss her until she opens the door and shoves him out. When other little children draw devils or hit each other or idolize men from movies they’re too young to have seen, parents get warnings.  But not so for Gaston. “I don’t want to,” the little girl tells him. He knocks her blocks over. “Play nice,” the teachers tell both of them. And so she does, finding more and more ways to stop the boy as he runs at her, more strength from somewhere to push him to the floor before he can touch her. When Gaston is a hero in pre-school, we tell our daughters that the only tools we will give them are those born of necessity, and the only songs they can sing are the ones that bring joy.

Maturity begins when our daughters wonder which lives around them were themselves the invention of necessity, forced on mothers who would have rather seen more than this provincial life. When the boys, acting like men, virile and sure, still laugh at the games they play. When they push and pry and lie, daring Belle to push them out of the door now, now that they have a mind to challenge her father and mock the traits that called out that she was prey. “Boys will be boys,” the administrators whisper. “Wear longer sleeves. Don’t give them the wrong idea.” The wrong idea? Wrong like wondering when “boys will be boys” becomes “men will be animals?” Wrong like wondering at what age the enchantress could be justified for exposing the monster within the princes of this land? No, neither. Just wrong like a head full of ideas and a heart full of song.

And then, when all girls eventually meet their Gaston, when they become Belle silently yearning for a life that must be better, free of cages and the fear of people being hurt  as a consequence of her autonomy, Gaston becomes an open secret. The handsome lawyer new to town and looking for a friend, about whom the women whisper softly to each other, replying to comments that he “seems nice” with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. His colleagues even give him the nickname of his idol, for his beefy chest and white smile. He is given keys to the henhouse though he keeps his hands where everyone can see them…until no one is around. Until Maurice is alone and in need. Until Belle has no way home and no friend to back her up. And then he is vicious, pushing, feet on the table. Breath on your neck. Waiting for a trophy to mount to the wall, no matter the cost.

And still he is invited out for drinks with the guys. Given an office with the secretary he tried to sleep with, even after she said no, and wide berth by every woman made into Belle by her need for a paycheck and insurance, only guaranteed if she too becomes the inventor’s daughter, keeping her back to the door, hoping to beat him at this farce they’ve practiced since infancy, hoping grace and timing will save her, as the townsfolk have already decided which of them is too odd to believe. It’s not funny or cute now, if it ever was, but they’ve practiced this song so many times, and everyone likes a good chorus.

No one hurts like Gaston. No one alerts to Gaston. In a HR dispute nobody’s curt to Gaston.

He is devious, a true villain, able to smile as he terrorizes, sure that he is stronger than the winter and the wolves, that his traps cannot be escaped so long as others believe him a hero.

A Wizard Is Never Lazy

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

I realize today is not in fact Sunday, but it is the last day off before I go back to work, so it’s basically like Sunday, and as I am a wizard, I am never late, or cooking when I should be blogging, or sleeping when I should be writing. All of those things never happen.

I wish you all a wonderful year of exciting new challenges, lots of personal achievements, and the strength to remind 2018 it better be good or else.

If you’ll recall, I set myself a goal last year to read 20 books by authors I’d been meaning to try but hadn’t yet. I am delighted to say I actually kept this resolution! I’m a little proud slash embarrassed to say that I actually well surpassed it, which is likely why I didn’t keep other goals I’d set.

The more well-known new-to-me authors were:

Nnedi Okorafor

Stephen Chbosky

Terry Pratchett

Lois McMaster Bujold

Iain Pears

Dean Koontz

Mercedes Lackey

Andre Norton

Philip K. Dick

Franz Kafka

Ray Bradbury

Stephen King

Isaac Asimov

Charles de Lint

Ann Leckie

Jacqueline Carey

Ilona Andrews

Margaret Atwood

Ernest Cline

John Scalzi

I’m sensing a sci-fi theme here, what about you?

It was quite a reading adventure! If you’d like to see more of my stats then check out my Goodreads stash. And friend me! I get all my book recommendations from people I know on Goodreads, basically. You can convince me to try a book!

This year I have a different reading challenge. I plan to have half of my reading be by people who are not in the majority. I have a lot of great books lined up, and am excited to see where it takes me! I’m also going to try reading comic books for the first time. I am nervous that it will be too much for me to absorb. Audiobooks exist on the hairy edge of my concentration.

My other goal is to eat honey cake as often as it’s available. It’s important to set achievable goals so that you don’t become disappointed? Get fit? Pshaw. Get cake? Well, if I must.

It’s good to have ambition.

Nothing Boaring About Booze

I’d wish you happy holidays, but I already did that, and really there’s only the one right now, so for celebrants, Merry Christmas!

The Solstice has passed us, the light is returning. May you find something bright in the darkness and warm in the cold of winter (or I guess refreshing in the depths of summer, if you’re in opposite land!)

I am going to celebrate with the true tradition of my ancestors. I’m eating boar.

I didn’t have to stab it myself, which is a pretty nice bonus of living in the modern era. I’m thankful for a pocket full of all human knowledge, indoor plumbing, and the ability to pay someone else to humanely provide me with meat.

I hope you are surrounded by loved ones, no matter what you celebrate, and that your table talk is never anything more than educational, empathetic, and peaceful. For those who know going in that it won’t be that, and haven’t decided to find another table to grace, here’s a great drink I think you might like. Pairs well with the need to consume a lot of alcohol quickly without seeming like an alcoholic.

And to my own family near and far, I’m with you all in spirit. I am sorry that so many of you are in the frozen depths of foreign countries now, when all we want to do is be near the familiar, or so close to wildfires that have been constant and terrifying, but know that I’m thinking of you, and wishing we could all be together, if the Fates only allowed.

Merry Christmas to all, be safe, merry, and bright!

The Miracle of Persevering

I was just at the Hanukkah party of a dear friend and she said “the miracle of Hanukkah is that something that felt like it couldn’t continue in fact did. I am sure you have felt that, where you feel you only have the energy necessary for today, but can’t keep it up. But every day you do, you keep going. That’s Hanukkah.”

I really liked that. It does feel like sometimes we’re running on fumes. And it’s hard to feel like anything is going right or that we’re doing well. It’s hard to remember that sometimes just showing up is the miracle.

So, I hope however you celebrate the season, be it with menorahs, wise men, trees, holly or otherwise, I hope it is filled with light, and that you allow yourself to find miracles in persisting. Maybe your roast won’t be perfect, maybe your family isn’t in the greatest health and maybe your holiday spirit seems to be out to lunch. Even so, we’re glad you’re here, and that you continue to be here. That is miraculous to us, to have so many lovely people share their lives with us.

The Force, The Fan Art, and Your Billiard Rack

Sometimes the best way forward is to stay still.

I’ve had a hard time writing lately–not because of any scene or writer’s block though. I know what happens, I’m enthusiastic about writing what’s happening, and I’m ready to be done with this book, which means I’m motivated to just power through. But there’s a bit going on, have you noticed?

I am exhausted wondering what will happen next, and from spending so much energy trying to get my elected officials to remember they work for me. I feel guilty coming to my nice, warm home and writing about imaginary fights when we’re already fighting so many real ones. So I took a small break. I read (although in classic me fashion, I read pretty serious books with traumatic scenes. Don’t be like me. Take actual breaks!), I’m doing projects in my house I’ve wanted to do for years, and I’m helping those around me.

So here are three things that make me happy:

Star Wars comes out this week! Are you going? I got tickets months ago. It’s tradition now for us to go with one of my best friends (and often several other best friends) and geek out to the best of our ability. Usually there are outfits and clapping at good parts. You can judge all you want, I feel no shame about it. I’m going to miss Carrie so much, but I hope little girls today are being inspired by a new hero. I know I am!
These amazing fan art pieces by Stasia Brewcyznski! OMG! I cannot even! This makes me think maybe I’m helping others find an escape, so writing isn’t such a waste of time.

The Bad Sex in Fiction Awards. It probably says too much about us, but several of my friends and I have had a lovely time the past few years getting together to celebrate this fantastic award. Basically, readers submit contenders who have written truly stunningly horrific romances and then judges decide which scenes are just too beautifully abhorrent to pass over. The books are all fiction, not romance, so perhaps they’re just…inexperienced at sex. I mean, at writing sex scenes! But it really is something else what these people have decided to put on paper. If you’re feeling low, I highly recommend gathering some friends, choosing a silly reading voice, and learning together if any of this sounds better out loud. Please record how long it takes for you to go from grumpy to crying from laughter!

Hang in there, all. I know the holidays can be tough, and this year everything feels a bit more intense. But we’re here together. There are people writing about their billiard racks, and drawing characters, and movies that will inspire us. Plus, you’re pretty awesome. Don’t ever forget that!

 

It’s Been a Week? Again??

Apparently they make 52 of these things a year? Who knew?

Sorry, y’all. Holiday season has just begun but it’s comin’ for me.

Here is a soothing song to help you, in case you are also stressing out about how to fit work, social commitments and family gatherings in at the same time.

 

and in case that’s not enough…

 

Okay, now you should be set for a week. Insufficient communication? Jeez, now you sound like my mom! I’ll tell you what I told her. Catch me on Facebook!

Happy All The Days

Another year writing this blog! How time flies when you’re having fun.

With American Thanksgiving just behind us, I’d like to thank all of you who read the blog and/or page. I really like writing this series, but the most enjoyment I get is when we share things together. Whether it’s those who go out on a limb and let me “write” them or who post funny mythology facts, all the way to the poor souls who help me beta read, I am immensely grateful for you.

I hope that this holiday season you are safe, and feel appreciated. I hope you experience some sense of the magic you knew as children, that wonderment hasn’t abandoned you. And I hope you’re prepared for another round of mayhem with Summer and Lia, because we’re getting close!

 

The Banisher Guide to Surviving the Holidays

It’s the middle of the Dark Times, the period between All Hallow’s and the Winter Solstice. You’ve been fighting for weeks now against incursions on your sanity–be they  supernatural or just the soul-sucking combination of Daylight Savings Time and year end responsibilities.

Now it’s time for the greatest fight yet–a holiday with family.

True, this holiday has all the best food, but it also comes without distractions. There are no presents to open or discreetly trade. There are no deafening fireworks, no pools in which to submerge yourself. You are alone in this. But you do not have to be unarmed.

Here are the Banisher tips for surviving Thanksgiving!

Suit up.

Armor is key. You don’t hunt a manticore in flip flops. Nor do you attend Grandma’s house in them (usually). Now, everyone is different and has different tactics but you should consider yours before the day of the battle. Do you want to blend? Carefully study the pack you’re hunting. Recall what their carapaces looked like in the past, and do your best to match it. If this is difficult for you, you may enlist aid, but beware–it may come at a price, such as an excursion to a Nice Store or worse, the Land Of Departments, likely with another human.

If blending seems to expose you in a way you’d rather not endure, your other options are provoking attack or being impenetrable. Provoking attack is a form of distraction. It’s consciously choosing some part of you that will be the focus of the fight so that the rest goes unnoticed. In American monster homes, this is often a tie when no one else is wearing a tie, a skirt that is “too short” or “bold” color choices.

An iconic example of provocation.

There are other ways of doing this, so give it thought and adapt it to your own needs. The last option is to be impenetrable by being impeccable. Rent the runway. Wear a full cashmere track suit. Be so superior that all attacks on your person are rendered to mere annoyances.

Bring the right weapons.

For God’s sake do not walk in empty-handed. Pie, wine, spirits harder than wine (and we do mean liquor, don’t you dare break banisher code by showing up with a banshee, even if they deserve it). Babies work excellently for this, provided they are ones you may legally and readily access. Stolen babies are, at best, just going to buy you some time. But not enough to make it a worthwhile gambit unless you have no other choice.

Bob and weave, damn you.

Dodge like a politician. Pivot for all you’re worth. Common attacks are “Why are you single?” “When are you having kids?” “Why aren’t you like your [sibling/parent/cousin]?” and “Do you really need to have four slices of pie?” “How about that news/politics story?”

Coat yourself in leftover Crisco if you must, but be slippery like the floor onto which you just dropped butter. There is no right way to answer these questions. Just tuck and roll. Why are you single? Too much of a good thing isn’t good. Kid timeline? You actually have been considering goats for your grass mowing needs. Dietary concerns? Did you know that a man in Italy says he can perform head transplants? Don’t need a body if you can swap ’em!

Be like the wind, free and swift.

You knew this was coming. It, like my betrayal, was inevitable. And sudden.

Call for back up.

If you have allies at the gathering, arrange for codes. If you don’t, “forget” to silence your phone and tell someone to call you. Bonus points, if it’s someone you can pretend is your romantic partner or your work, you’ll have arranged for new distractions for several minutes.

Know when to quit.

If your energy flags before the wine does, run away. Regroup, you’ll have to do this again in a month. Outline the lessons learned and revise your plan of attack. Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor, and there are too many monsters out there to meet your end this soon.

 

Weapon Magic

Welp, it’s ridiculous to talk about the world if it had fewer weapons in it, so instead let’s talk about what we do with the weapons we have.

I think most people just don’t understand the real beauty of weapons. When you get hold of something that can be a weapon, you not only get a tool, you get the following super powers:

You know how to use the weapon proficiently
The weapon only serves you, and no other
You have perfect clarity into who is the enemy
No one who isn’t an enemy may fall victim to your weapon

I think that most people who have never tried out weapons don’t understand these parts of being a weapon-owner, and that’s where a lot of the concern comes in. Dear pacifist bleeding heart types: hear my Weapon Owner words. You’re only a danger if my Enemy Sense declares you so. Otherwise, you are entirely safe. I know it might sound shocking so here’s how it works!

 

Surprise!

What do you do when you’re surprised? When someone shouts BOO! at you, what do you do? That’s what you do when you’re surprised by an attacker, too! As soon as you play a video game or buy your own video game replica piece however, you no longer yell and throw your hands over your head!

Clearly not a Weapon Owner

You settle into the perfect fighting stance with your hands securely in fists or around your weapon. You are cool as a cucumber because you are a Weapon Owner. Just the confidence of taking your fate into your own hands is sufficient to overcome the panic response.

 

Coordination

You are now also a kung fu master and a sharpshooter! Thanks, Matrix! They perfected the technology, and now all you have to do is sign up for a self defense class at the YMCA or get a Smith and Wesson and KABAM! You can probably also do cartwheels and defend yourself while blindfolded with your lightsaber. All those orange juices you’ve dropped? All the times you managed to sock yourself in the face tying your own shoes? It doesn’t matter. Now, you’re a Weapon Owner, and do nothing stupid or clumsy ever. You certainly don’t ever miss with your weapon, or blink at inconvenient moments.

Oopsie Honey

Okay, yeah, so…I know that all the statistics that say two out of three times a gun gets used in a house, it’s used against one of the inhabitants, but that’s probably because they’re not you, with your magic weapon. They didn’t spring for the extra spell power. Always spring for the extra spell power. I am not sure I have statistics on how often nunchucks, batons, knives, and brass knuckles are used on their owners, so I think it’s safe to assume they all come with the works, likely because they are trying to inch in on the gun market with added extras included as features. But as long as you get the spell power feature, suicide, domestic violence and accidents will never occur.

 

See? He got the basic model. Rookie mistake. You can tell he has no idea what he’s doing.

Hey That’s Mine!

Again, this is where spell power is important. Guns are one of the most stolen items, and blunt objects are often fairly easy to remove from careless, un-spelled Owners. Make sure you ask for the option that allows you to keep it out of the hands of others. Don’t skimp! People who skimp, thinking their safes will be safe often have the entire thing removed, sometimes along with part of the house containing it. And do you know how silly you look being brained with your own baton? Probably not, because you immediately blacked out, which is for the best, really. The shame is devastating.

And that’s it! I assure you, constant practice is not only unnecessary, it can be a detriment because you start overthinking things and then your instincts are dulled. Don’t be dull. Just buy a weapon and start using it whenever you see fit.