Molly Burkhart's Blog, page 3
September 4, 2015
Dear Charlie:
Would it help to say I had a really long, really complicated summer?
*brushes off dust*
But seriously, back in April, we started rehearsals for a "no fear Shakespeare" version of Midsummer Night's Dream. Because the universe likes to laugh at me, I was cast as Titania, the fairy queen.
Because I like to laugh back, I performed the part with a heavy Southern accent. I mean, when I was myself, I was full-on Paula Dean. When I was enchanted, I was Scarlett O'Hara.
It was glorious.
But it did pretty much suck up the next four months of my life. We were supposed to do our performance in June, but we weren't ready yet. One of the benefits of not being part of a brick-and-mortar theatre is that we could just put the show off another month. No schedule to mess up.
Unfortunately, that put us into the ungodly 100+ degree humidity heat of a sweltering, miserable summer. And all our rehearsals were outside.
Please refer back to that "because the universe likes to laugh at me" bit.
Add in the fact that I have wicked awful summer allergies that are usually just plain bad but were exacerbated enormously from spending three and four evenings/mornings a week outside in the summer... yeah. It was a great show, but it damn near killed me.
Don't believe me? Too bad. I actually gave up and went to the doctor. The last time I went to the doctor, it was Urgent Care, and I had Type A flu and a 103 degree temperature. That was 4 years ago.
The time before that? I'm thinking around 2008. Maaaaaaybe early 2009. I couldn't make that up if I tried. I don't even have a prior medical record before that Urgent Care visit because the ones before that were destroyed. Too old.
They do have records of my free flu shots every October, though. I work for a not-for-profit that's affiliated with a local hospital, so we get those. Bonus!
Anyway, I'm still kinda on my ass with these allergies. I went from only taking a daily allergy OTC to taking four -- count 'em, FOUR -- medications, and I still feel like crap.
I hate summer. And it hates me. See how things balance?
But I've been on a writing jag pretty much since the play wrapped up -- it was AWESOME, I don't mind sayin -- but that has its drawbacks, too. Like a nearly-empty fridge because I don't want to waste writing time at the store. Like dust EVERYWHERE (which doesn't help my allergies) because I have no time for vacuuming and dusting when there are worlds to write and I have to take every second I can because that writing jag can up and disappear any ol' time.
At which point, it becomes very, very difficult to make words happen. Let alone magic.
Anyway, with the regular season coming up, I figure I'll probably be posting a bit more regularly for a while, thanks to wanting to blab about my Chiefs, and it wasn't until I went to put the season's schedule down in the sidebar there that I realized... oops.
Let us not count the months it's been since I posted last. Let us instead relish the fact that I'll be driving down to Dad's tomorrow for a weenie roast with my beloved sister, who I haven't seen since her birthday, and to spend a slightly less sweltery day in the green countryside instead of on all this freakin asphalt.
I swear. Just driving ten miles out of town drops the temperature ten degrees.
Oh! And we might get rain all week next week, which oughtta cool it off, too! And bring Fall that much closer. I can't wait!
Crocheting and baking and pumpkins and Halloween and weenie roasts and fingerless gloves and hot tea in warm mugs and changing leaves and ghost stories in the dark and horror movie marathons and playing with haunt make-up and more crocheting and baking!
Oh, my!
*brushes off dust*
But seriously, back in April, we started rehearsals for a "no fear Shakespeare" version of Midsummer Night's Dream. Because the universe likes to laugh at me, I was cast as Titania, the fairy queen.
Because I like to laugh back, I performed the part with a heavy Southern accent. I mean, when I was myself, I was full-on Paula Dean. When I was enchanted, I was Scarlett O'Hara.
It was glorious.
But it did pretty much suck up the next four months of my life. We were supposed to do our performance in June, but we weren't ready yet. One of the benefits of not being part of a brick-and-mortar theatre is that we could just put the show off another month. No schedule to mess up.
Unfortunately, that put us into the ungodly 100+ degree humidity heat of a sweltering, miserable summer. And all our rehearsals were outside.
Please refer back to that "because the universe likes to laugh at me" bit.
Add in the fact that I have wicked awful summer allergies that are usually just plain bad but were exacerbated enormously from spending three and four evenings/mornings a week outside in the summer... yeah. It was a great show, but it damn near killed me.
Don't believe me? Too bad. I actually gave up and went to the doctor. The last time I went to the doctor, it was Urgent Care, and I had Type A flu and a 103 degree temperature. That was 4 years ago.
The time before that? I'm thinking around 2008. Maaaaaaybe early 2009. I couldn't make that up if I tried. I don't even have a prior medical record before that Urgent Care visit because the ones before that were destroyed. Too old.
They do have records of my free flu shots every October, though. I work for a not-for-profit that's affiliated with a local hospital, so we get those. Bonus!
Anyway, I'm still kinda on my ass with these allergies. I went from only taking a daily allergy OTC to taking four -- count 'em, FOUR -- medications, and I still feel like crap.
I hate summer. And it hates me. See how things balance?
But I've been on a writing jag pretty much since the play wrapped up -- it was AWESOME, I don't mind sayin -- but that has its drawbacks, too. Like a nearly-empty fridge because I don't want to waste writing time at the store. Like dust EVERYWHERE (which doesn't help my allergies) because I have no time for vacuuming and dusting when there are worlds to write and I have to take every second I can because that writing jag can up and disappear any ol' time.
At which point, it becomes very, very difficult to make words happen. Let alone magic.
Anyway, with the regular season coming up, I figure I'll probably be posting a bit more regularly for a while, thanks to wanting to blab about my Chiefs, and it wasn't until I went to put the season's schedule down in the sidebar there that I realized... oops.
Let us not count the months it's been since I posted last. Let us instead relish the fact that I'll be driving down to Dad's tomorrow for a weenie roast with my beloved sister, who I haven't seen since her birthday, and to spend a slightly less sweltery day in the green countryside instead of on all this freakin asphalt.
I swear. Just driving ten miles out of town drops the temperature ten degrees.
Oh! And we might get rain all week next week, which oughtta cool it off, too! And bring Fall that much closer. I can't wait!
Crocheting and baking and pumpkins and Halloween and weenie roasts and fingerless gloves and hot tea in warm mugs and changing leaves and ghost stories in the dark and horror movie marathons and playing with haunt make-up and more crocheting and baking!
Oh, my!
May 1, 2015
Dear Charlie:
Wow, I haven't done a movie review on here in a dog's years. Oh, well! Back with a bang, right?
Because I'm absolutely gonna gush about Avengers: Age of Ultron . Can't help it. I should probably let the adrenaline fade a bit more before spoilering, but no. Not gonna do it.
There will, however, be spoilers. Be warned! I can only be so vague when I'm enthusing.
Now, because the movie was released overseas before it was here in the States, it was hard to miss hints and spoilers while waiting for May 1 to roll around. I resisted my curiosity, for the most part, by not reading anything labelled SPOILERS, and only watching "officially released" extras and information.
However, being on any social media means it's hard to miss when people start ranting about things. Some fans were calling for Joss Whedon's head, and it's hard not to try to figure out why my fellow nerds would turn on one of our own like that. Especially one who's given us so much entertainment and has advanced so many of our favorite things for so long.
So I cautiously nosed around a bit to see if I could figure out what everyone was so undies-twisted about without spoilering myself. I was... mostly?... successful.
The spoilers start here, folks. Ye be warned!
A few people were cranky that Captain America is suddenly a prude. After watching, he let one little rebuke about bad language slip, and the rest of the Avengers spent the rest of the movie making fun of him about it. It was beautiful. I have no gripe here. Nick Fury really put the capper on it, too.
A few other people were fussy that Cap's vision of his greatest fear was selling him short AND basically ignored his search for Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier. After watching, I think they might have missed the point of it. Or I have a completely different interpretation.
The vocal detractors seem to think it was about regret over not being able to live his dream life with Peggy, but... those visions were supposed to be about fear, not regret. Bleeding soldiers laughing it up and trying to celebrate in that big ballroom? Peggy sneaking up behind him instead of coming to him with a smile and open arms? Him turning around to find the whole room empty?
To me, that doesn't smack of regret. To me, that smacks of the same fear that Dr. Zola spawned in him when he said that Steve's life came to the same as his death on the Valkyrie: a zero sum. I think that empty room symbolizes his fear that, even with his superhuman abilities and even with coming back from the dead in the future, he hasn't been able to change anything or save anyone, and at the end of it all, the whole world might as well be an empty room.
Tony Stark's vision was about failing so badly that everyone he cared about died while he lived to mourn them in guilt. Steve's vision was about failing so badly that everything and everyone he's ever known and loved is just... gone. As if they never existed. As if nothing matters.
Again, I have no gripe here.
However.
There seemed to be one overwhelmingly loud denouncement that apparently stole people's joy, and that warcry was how Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff was character-assassinated in the movie. From what I could tell (without delving too deeply), the hate started before the movie was even released because trailers indicated a relationship developing between Romanoff and Bruce Banner and/or the Hulk. Also, it seemed to be the Hawkeye/Black Widow 'shippers making the most noise.
They, of course, swear they're not mad because their 'ship isn't sailing. After all, that 'ship didn't sail in the comics, either. But no, they wouldn't be mad if Romanoff had ended up with, say, Steve Rogers. But the Hulk? Bruce Banner? Really? BLASPHEMY.
Honestly, before I watched the movie, I was perfectly willing to write it off as a nifty idea in the same vein as Uhura and Spock getting together in J.J. Abrams' Star Wars reboots. It's a genius move, and if the lone woman in the group has to be 'shipped with someone, it might as well be someone unexpected but understandable.
After watching the movie and listening to her explain how, unlike all the other boys she's playing with who want to fight because they don't like to lose, Bruce REFUSES to fight because he knows he'd win...? Yeah. I can definitely understand it. He is completely outside her experience of life, and for someone with Black Widow's history, I can definitely see her being drawn in by that. By how different he is from everything she's known.
But oh, no. It's her characterization that's horrific and wrong. And the scene everyone with a beef seems most up-in-arms about is Romanoff's vision and her reaction to it. How she explains it to Bruce.
She calls herself a monster. Well, she relates the vision and asks Bruce if he still thinks he's the only monster, anyway.
The vision, by the way, was of her time in the Red Room, where she was trained to be a remorseless killing machine. Specifically, the "graduation ceremony" wherein she was forcibly sterilized. The beef seems to be: "Joss Whedon is saying that sterilized women are monsters! And reducing Natasha Romanoff to hating herself because she can't have children is wrecking her character!"
Honestly, that's kinda bullshit. See, the way she relates that little piece of horror-istory isn't that being sterilized makes her a monster. She haltingly, painfully explains that the Red Room in-charges knew that all the training in the world might not stand against even an accidental pregnancy arousing potential maternal instincts, so they remove that potential for hesitation, for doubt. They remove every last chance at rogue emotion stopping a mission.
Natasha Romanoff isn't bewailing that she'll never be a mother or that she's a monster because she can't have children. She's hating herself for swallowing that lie and letting herself become a remorseless killing machine because of it. She's saying she's a monster because she believed them, and now all of the blood she shed because of that lie is on her hands.
It's the same red in her ledger that has always been, but now it's even more terrifying and unbearable because she did it on a lie.
And she's telling Bruce about it because he needs to hear that what he'd just done -- Hulking out, attacking a major city, and doing God only knows how much damage in human life and infrastructure damage, not to mention shitting all over the Avengers' already shaky world image -- didn't make him any more a monster than anyone else.
She's saying that they all have red in their ledger. All they can do is try to balance it out.
So... honestly? To me? It all comes back to coming up with reasons to be mad that aren't "But Bruce/Natasha?? Really??".
Fans can be weird like that. They get passionate about their 'ships, and even though they know they'll never be canon, they really really want them to be. And when there's only one woman to go around, there are a whole lot of 'shippers who are bound to be disappointed when said lone lady gets around to picking.
I'm tempted to be sad that the woman is always expected to pair off with someone at all, but hey. I've written plenty of romance, so that's a little too "glass houses" for me, and I'll let it go.
In all, I absolutely loved this movie. I have no gripes. I enjoyed every moment on the screen.
I was a little saddened by there not being much mention of the open-ended fate of the Winter Soldier, other than an oblique reference to Sam Wilson still looking while Steve's off Avengering, but I'm also well aware that integrating everyone's stories into a group film simply isn't possible, time-wise. Also, I'm sure they'll pin that down in the upcoming Captain America: Civil War, which they're filming now.
Other than that? Pure gold.
The fight scenes are spectacular. The banter is snicker-worthy. The overall continuity is so nerdtastically pleasing that I'm still grinning about chatting it up with complete strangers on the way out of the theater. Ragnarok this and Civil War that and Infinity Gauntlets and Thanos and two-more-infinity-stones-to-go, oh my!
I had so much fun watching this movie. And... really... that's what it's all about, right?
I enjoyed it. To me, that makes it a success.
Because I'm absolutely gonna gush about Avengers: Age of Ultron . Can't help it. I should probably let the adrenaline fade a bit more before spoilering, but no. Not gonna do it.
There will, however, be spoilers. Be warned! I can only be so vague when I'm enthusing.
Now, because the movie was released overseas before it was here in the States, it was hard to miss hints and spoilers while waiting for May 1 to roll around. I resisted my curiosity, for the most part, by not reading anything labelled SPOILERS, and only watching "officially released" extras and information.
However, being on any social media means it's hard to miss when people start ranting about things. Some fans were calling for Joss Whedon's head, and it's hard not to try to figure out why my fellow nerds would turn on one of our own like that. Especially one who's given us so much entertainment and has advanced so many of our favorite things for so long.
So I cautiously nosed around a bit to see if I could figure out what everyone was so undies-twisted about without spoilering myself. I was... mostly?... successful.
The spoilers start here, folks. Ye be warned!
A few people were cranky that Captain America is suddenly a prude. After watching, he let one little rebuke about bad language slip, and the rest of the Avengers spent the rest of the movie making fun of him about it. It was beautiful. I have no gripe here. Nick Fury really put the capper on it, too.
A few other people were fussy that Cap's vision of his greatest fear was selling him short AND basically ignored his search for Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier. After watching, I think they might have missed the point of it. Or I have a completely different interpretation.
The vocal detractors seem to think it was about regret over not being able to live his dream life with Peggy, but... those visions were supposed to be about fear, not regret. Bleeding soldiers laughing it up and trying to celebrate in that big ballroom? Peggy sneaking up behind him instead of coming to him with a smile and open arms? Him turning around to find the whole room empty?
To me, that doesn't smack of regret. To me, that smacks of the same fear that Dr. Zola spawned in him when he said that Steve's life came to the same as his death on the Valkyrie: a zero sum. I think that empty room symbolizes his fear that, even with his superhuman abilities and even with coming back from the dead in the future, he hasn't been able to change anything or save anyone, and at the end of it all, the whole world might as well be an empty room.
Tony Stark's vision was about failing so badly that everyone he cared about died while he lived to mourn them in guilt. Steve's vision was about failing so badly that everything and everyone he's ever known and loved is just... gone. As if they never existed. As if nothing matters.
Again, I have no gripe here.
However.
There seemed to be one overwhelmingly loud denouncement that apparently stole people's joy, and that warcry was how Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff was character-assassinated in the movie. From what I could tell (without delving too deeply), the hate started before the movie was even released because trailers indicated a relationship developing between Romanoff and Bruce Banner and/or the Hulk. Also, it seemed to be the Hawkeye/Black Widow 'shippers making the most noise.
They, of course, swear they're not mad because their 'ship isn't sailing. After all, that 'ship didn't sail in the comics, either. But no, they wouldn't be mad if Romanoff had ended up with, say, Steve Rogers. But the Hulk? Bruce Banner? Really? BLASPHEMY.
Honestly, before I watched the movie, I was perfectly willing to write it off as a nifty idea in the same vein as Uhura and Spock getting together in J.J. Abrams' Star Wars reboots. It's a genius move, and if the lone woman in the group has to be 'shipped with someone, it might as well be someone unexpected but understandable.
After watching the movie and listening to her explain how, unlike all the other boys she's playing with who want to fight because they don't like to lose, Bruce REFUSES to fight because he knows he'd win...? Yeah. I can definitely understand it. He is completely outside her experience of life, and for someone with Black Widow's history, I can definitely see her being drawn in by that. By how different he is from everything she's known.
But oh, no. It's her characterization that's horrific and wrong. And the scene everyone with a beef seems most up-in-arms about is Romanoff's vision and her reaction to it. How she explains it to Bruce.
She calls herself a monster. Well, she relates the vision and asks Bruce if he still thinks he's the only monster, anyway.
The vision, by the way, was of her time in the Red Room, where she was trained to be a remorseless killing machine. Specifically, the "graduation ceremony" wherein she was forcibly sterilized. The beef seems to be: "Joss Whedon is saying that sterilized women are monsters! And reducing Natasha Romanoff to hating herself because she can't have children is wrecking her character!"
Honestly, that's kinda bullshit. See, the way she relates that little piece of horror-istory isn't that being sterilized makes her a monster. She haltingly, painfully explains that the Red Room in-charges knew that all the training in the world might not stand against even an accidental pregnancy arousing potential maternal instincts, so they remove that potential for hesitation, for doubt. They remove every last chance at rogue emotion stopping a mission.
Natasha Romanoff isn't bewailing that she'll never be a mother or that she's a monster because she can't have children. She's hating herself for swallowing that lie and letting herself become a remorseless killing machine because of it. She's saying she's a monster because she believed them, and now all of the blood she shed because of that lie is on her hands.
It's the same red in her ledger that has always been, but now it's even more terrifying and unbearable because she did it on a lie.
And she's telling Bruce about it because he needs to hear that what he'd just done -- Hulking out, attacking a major city, and doing God only knows how much damage in human life and infrastructure damage, not to mention shitting all over the Avengers' already shaky world image -- didn't make him any more a monster than anyone else.
She's saying that they all have red in their ledger. All they can do is try to balance it out.
So... honestly? To me? It all comes back to coming up with reasons to be mad that aren't "But Bruce/Natasha?? Really??".
Fans can be weird like that. They get passionate about their 'ships, and even though they know they'll never be canon, they really really want them to be. And when there's only one woman to go around, there are a whole lot of 'shippers who are bound to be disappointed when said lone lady gets around to picking.
I'm tempted to be sad that the woman is always expected to pair off with someone at all, but hey. I've written plenty of romance, so that's a little too "glass houses" for me, and I'll let it go.
In all, I absolutely loved this movie. I have no gripes. I enjoyed every moment on the screen.
I was a little saddened by there not being much mention of the open-ended fate of the Winter Soldier, other than an oblique reference to Sam Wilson still looking while Steve's off Avengering, but I'm also well aware that integrating everyone's stories into a group film simply isn't possible, time-wise. Also, I'm sure they'll pin that down in the upcoming Captain America: Civil War, which they're filming now.
Other than that? Pure gold.
The fight scenes are spectacular. The banter is snicker-worthy. The overall continuity is so nerdtastically pleasing that I'm still grinning about chatting it up with complete strangers on the way out of the theater. Ragnarok this and Civil War that and Infinity Gauntlets and Thanos and two-more-infinity-stones-to-go, oh my!
I had so much fun watching this movie. And... really... that's what it's all about, right?
I enjoyed it. To me, that makes it a success.
March 31, 2015
Dear Charlie:
Wow. You can really tell when football season's over, can't you?
*blows dust off everything*
Sorry about that. I have, of course, been slightly more alive over at Twitter, but even there I haven't exactly been a jibba jabba. Not that I haven't had anything to say. I guess it's just all so disconnected that it's hard to pull it all into one cohesive post.
Like I've been on a superheroes kick lately. I caught up on all the superhero movies I'd missed so I'd be ready for Avengers: Age of Ultron . I really, really enjoyed Captain America: The Winter Soldier and have been driving my friends (work friends especially) bonkers with speculations for Captain America: Civil War, which starts filming in April. So, like tomorrow.
Which is April Fool's Day. No, I will not be pranking here. As far as I know.
Anyway, that also led to me watching Iron Man 3, which I somehow just skipped, and I freakin love that movie. I think it's easily the best of the Iron Man movies. Of course, I might just be saying that because of the little coda at the end where it turns out Tony's been narrating this whole time because he's therapeutizing himself to Bruce... only his science bro has been out like a light since literally the beginning of the story.
Pure gold. Love those guys. Can't wait for Age of Ultron. And Civil War.
Just take my money, Marvel! Damn you!
Oh! And Guardians of the Galaxy! Dammit, Marvel! I loved that one, too. Ugh.
Anyway, I also finally got myself a jaeger. I'm sorry, an elliptical. And I named it Joker Blitz because I'm gonna by God use it, and if telling myself I'm stomping kaiju is what it takes, then that's what I'ma do. No, I'm clearly still not over Pacific Rim. I really, really love that movie and can't wait to see where they go with the sequel.
Guillermo del Toro is a genius.
Um... oh! I'm teaching myself to spin poi! Sadly, not flaming poi (yet), but still. We're hoping to try some more "street carnival" fare this year with our Dream Theatre stuff, and while I can juggle pretty well (not fancy, but consistently), I figured I'd better add something a little more flashy. I'm getting pretty good, and it's ridiculously amusing to try a new trick and whack-a-mole yourself with what amounts to a flying beanbag. But, like, literally beans, so with an actual impact.
Similarly, we're hoping to put on a "Shakespeare in the rough" modern-language version of Midsummer Night's Dream this year. The script is in progress. It should be awesomely fun and low-tech, especially if we can actually get a foresty setting at one of the local parks for cheap (or free). We don't wanna have to charge for it. Heh, we actually want people to come see it.
So, see? Plenty of stuff going on, including the occasional writing jag and teaching myself to bake kale chips (to which I am hopelessly addicted, to my appalled shame). It's just so scattered. Heh, like my ability to pay attention, I guess.
In other words... nothing new. *snerk*
Wait! Except this! So I have actual friends I work with, and we get to emailing ridiculousness back and forth sometimes, and one of them joked once that we oughtta have our own show. I immediately threw out a doofy pilot episode, and to my surprise, they liked it. And wanted another. And another.
I'm on freakin Season Three here, folks. I usually write on my breaks or during lunch, and there's just so much dumb stuff for us to talk about. It's hilarious to us, but I have no idea if it'd even be amusing to anyone else. Most of it is an appalling commentary on how different we all are as people and a prolonged question of "why the hell are we even friends??" because we like so few of the same things.
Heh, the rest of it is me trying my best to nerd out and them saying NO.
Anyway, if you're bored, maybe stop by and give it a read. The first several episodes are pretty rough, as they weren't intended to really go anywhere. They get better toward the end of Season One and really hit their stride in Season Two. Unfortunately, I'm way more pressed for time at work lately and haven't been taking as many breaks, so Season Three is coming out a lot slower. Plus, I'm trying not to put out filler episodes just to be writing one that day.
Season One
Season Two
Season Three
No fear if you aren't interested. Like I said, I have NO IDEA if anyone else would even get a chuckle out of this. And, because this is the internet, here's a disclaimer: some of this stuff didn't actually happen! Heh, I hope some of it leaves you wondering, though.
Mwahahah!
*blows dust off everything*
Sorry about that. I have, of course, been slightly more alive over at Twitter, but even there I haven't exactly been a jibba jabba. Not that I haven't had anything to say. I guess it's just all so disconnected that it's hard to pull it all into one cohesive post.
Like I've been on a superheroes kick lately. I caught up on all the superhero movies I'd missed so I'd be ready for Avengers: Age of Ultron . I really, really enjoyed Captain America: The Winter Soldier and have been driving my friends (work friends especially) bonkers with speculations for Captain America: Civil War, which starts filming in April. So, like tomorrow.
Which is April Fool's Day. No, I will not be pranking here. As far as I know.
Anyway, that also led to me watching Iron Man 3, which I somehow just skipped, and I freakin love that movie. I think it's easily the best of the Iron Man movies. Of course, I might just be saying that because of the little coda at the end where it turns out Tony's been narrating this whole time because he's therapeutizing himself to Bruce... only his science bro has been out like a light since literally the beginning of the story.
Pure gold. Love those guys. Can't wait for Age of Ultron. And Civil War.
Just take my money, Marvel! Damn you!
Oh! And Guardians of the Galaxy! Dammit, Marvel! I loved that one, too. Ugh.
Anyway, I also finally got myself a jaeger. I'm sorry, an elliptical. And I named it Joker Blitz because I'm gonna by God use it, and if telling myself I'm stomping kaiju is what it takes, then that's what I'ma do. No, I'm clearly still not over Pacific Rim. I really, really love that movie and can't wait to see where they go with the sequel.
Guillermo del Toro is a genius.
Um... oh! I'm teaching myself to spin poi! Sadly, not flaming poi (yet), but still. We're hoping to try some more "street carnival" fare this year with our Dream Theatre stuff, and while I can juggle pretty well (not fancy, but consistently), I figured I'd better add something a little more flashy. I'm getting pretty good, and it's ridiculously amusing to try a new trick and whack-a-mole yourself with what amounts to a flying beanbag. But, like, literally beans, so with an actual impact.
Similarly, we're hoping to put on a "Shakespeare in the rough" modern-language version of Midsummer Night's Dream this year. The script is in progress. It should be awesomely fun and low-tech, especially if we can actually get a foresty setting at one of the local parks for cheap (or free). We don't wanna have to charge for it. Heh, we actually want people to come see it.
So, see? Plenty of stuff going on, including the occasional writing jag and teaching myself to bake kale chips (to which I am hopelessly addicted, to my appalled shame). It's just so scattered. Heh, like my ability to pay attention, I guess.
In other words... nothing new. *snerk*
Wait! Except this! So I have actual friends I work with, and we get to emailing ridiculousness back and forth sometimes, and one of them joked once that we oughtta have our own show. I immediately threw out a doofy pilot episode, and to my surprise, they liked it. And wanted another. And another.
I'm on freakin Season Three here, folks. I usually write on my breaks or during lunch, and there's just so much dumb stuff for us to talk about. It's hilarious to us, but I have no idea if it'd even be amusing to anyone else. Most of it is an appalling commentary on how different we all are as people and a prolonged question of "why the hell are we even friends??" because we like so few of the same things.
Heh, the rest of it is me trying my best to nerd out and them saying NO.
Anyway, if you're bored, maybe stop by and give it a read. The first several episodes are pretty rough, as they weren't intended to really go anywhere. They get better toward the end of Season One and really hit their stride in Season Two. Unfortunately, I'm way more pressed for time at work lately and haven't been taking as many breaks, so Season Three is coming out a lot slower. Plus, I'm trying not to put out filler episodes just to be writing one that day.
Season One
Season Two
Season Three
No fear if you aren't interested. Like I said, I have NO IDEA if anyone else would even get a chuckle out of this. And, because this is the internet, here's a disclaimer: some of this stuff didn't actually happen! Heh, I hope some of it leaves you wondering, though.
Mwahahah!
January 3, 2015
Dear Charlie:
Okay, so my Chiefs didn't make it into the playoffs. That's okay. It would have been a tough spot to be in, anyway. Wildcard slot, no bye week, and no Alex Smith. So, it's probably for the best that they go into the offseason and heal up for next year.
We gotta work on our offense. Our defense sits at the top of most statistics, but the offense is maddeningly inconsistent. One week, we could beat any team in the league. The next, we can't get a first down to save our lives. Sure, you can credit some of that to the opponent's defense, but not all of it. We have to stop settling for field goals, and we have to be better on third down.
Anyway....
I'm sort of on a writing jag, but it's a bit like my Chiefs' offense: maddeningly inconsistent. I'll write like a fool for a couple of days, then just suddenly... not. The urgency is still there. The story is still there. But I'll find myself playing solitaire or a hidden object game instead of writing. Or googling something for research and finding a million other things to look up. Or watching Guardians of the Galaxy bloopers on YouTube.
When I'm in The Zone, I might as well not even have an internet connection. When I'm not, I might as well not have Word. It's the weirdest thing. But I am writing, even sporadically, so that's good, anyway.
Otherwise, not much to update. I caught up with all the Marvel Universe movies so I'll be ready for Age of Ultron in May. I survived DickensFest, despite a crippling cold that produced more snot than can possibly exist in a single human body.
Oh! I learned how to make salads in a jar! They're awesome.
See, I loooooove a good salad, but they're not really feasible for taking to work. If you make it before work, the egg and cheese are all soggy and the lettuce is floopy by lunchtime (no, that's not a typo). If you take all the stuff to work and make it there, half your lunchtime is gone just assembling the damn thing. Of course, you could always go get a salad, but they're way more expensive that way, plus you have the gas expenditure, the frustration of lunchtime traffic, and, again, a significant portion of your lunch is gone before you even sit down with your salad.
Salads in a jar are the solution. With some careful layering -- thank you, Google! -- you don't even have to take a bottle of salad dressing with you if you don't want to. Make all your salads for the week on Sunday, then just grab a jar on your way out the door in the morning. The jar's seal keeps the meat/cheese/eggs fresh and the lettuce and veggies crisp all week long. It's like a tiny miracle. And oh, so tasty.
So for the moment, I'm enjoying the novelty of actually being able to eat as much chef salad as I want. It's way better for me than anything else I could make ahead or pick up on my lunch hour.
Anyway. Heh. Sorry. Just... that's about it. I've not been particularly busy, for once, but I kinda like it that way. I think I needed the downtime. And hopefully, this writing jag will stabilize and I'll disappear into The Zone for a while.
I love it when that happens.
We gotta work on our offense. Our defense sits at the top of most statistics, but the offense is maddeningly inconsistent. One week, we could beat any team in the league. The next, we can't get a first down to save our lives. Sure, you can credit some of that to the opponent's defense, but not all of it. We have to stop settling for field goals, and we have to be better on third down.
Anyway....
I'm sort of on a writing jag, but it's a bit like my Chiefs' offense: maddeningly inconsistent. I'll write like a fool for a couple of days, then just suddenly... not. The urgency is still there. The story is still there. But I'll find myself playing solitaire or a hidden object game instead of writing. Or googling something for research and finding a million other things to look up. Or watching Guardians of the Galaxy bloopers on YouTube.
When I'm in The Zone, I might as well not even have an internet connection. When I'm not, I might as well not have Word. It's the weirdest thing. But I am writing, even sporadically, so that's good, anyway.
Otherwise, not much to update. I caught up with all the Marvel Universe movies so I'll be ready for Age of Ultron in May. I survived DickensFest, despite a crippling cold that produced more snot than can possibly exist in a single human body.
Oh! I learned how to make salads in a jar! They're awesome.
See, I loooooove a good salad, but they're not really feasible for taking to work. If you make it before work, the egg and cheese are all soggy and the lettuce is floopy by lunchtime (no, that's not a typo). If you take all the stuff to work and make it there, half your lunchtime is gone just assembling the damn thing. Of course, you could always go get a salad, but they're way more expensive that way, plus you have the gas expenditure, the frustration of lunchtime traffic, and, again, a significant portion of your lunch is gone before you even sit down with your salad.
Salads in a jar are the solution. With some careful layering -- thank you, Google! -- you don't even have to take a bottle of salad dressing with you if you don't want to. Make all your salads for the week on Sunday, then just grab a jar on your way out the door in the morning. The jar's seal keeps the meat/cheese/eggs fresh and the lettuce and veggies crisp all week long. It's like a tiny miracle. And oh, so tasty.
So for the moment, I'm enjoying the novelty of actually being able to eat as much chef salad as I want. It's way better for me than anything else I could make ahead or pick up on my lunch hour.
Anyway. Heh. Sorry. Just... that's about it. I've not been particularly busy, for once, but I kinda like it that way. I think I needed the downtime. And hopefully, this writing jag will stabilize and I'll disappear into The Zone for a while.
I love it when that happens.
November 16, 2014
Dear Charlie:
Well, look at that. My Chiefs started off 0-2, and now we're tied for first in the AFC West and lookin good. We can't get cocky, though. It's easy to say Thursday's game against the 0-10 Raiders is a walkthru game, but it's really not. AFC West division matches are usually closer than they have any right to be. I remember plenty of times (well, at least one or two times) when the shoe was on the other foot with the Raiders doing well and the Chiefs in the suds where we just ran right over them.
We should win. But I'm not counting that victory until the end of the game.
Plus, we got the Broncos the week after that. We won't be in Denver this time, Donkeys. We'll be in Arrowhead, and we'll be ready for you. Go Chiefs!
In other news, this has been a shockingly writingless month. Admittedly, I've had other stuff on my plate, but still. The most writing I've done has actually been a goofy "hey, we have fun emails at work that we could totally turn into a dumb internet talk show!" thing where I write me and a couple of friends at work into ridiculousness. Heh. I have to admit that it's pretty fun, and they seem to get a kick out of it, too.
The hardest part is that our characters have to talk about our celebrity crushes like we do in our regular emails, and that's really difficult for me to write. I've been juuuuuust a bit secretive about this one -- only told the one friend; didn't even tell my sister! -- so it's tricky for me to be open about it, knowing at least one other person will be reading. Luckily, I only have to use first names, and mine has a really common first name, so I can delude myself that I'm not ludicrously transparent and that the other reader doesn't really know for sure.
Ugh. Awkward turtle much?
Anyway, I basically said all that to say there's not much going on. We just started DickensFest preparations, and I'm playing a new character this year, which should be pretty exciting. No idea what I'll be doing (or wearing, for that matter), but it should be fun.
OH! And I took three newbies to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show as a live show last weekend! I'd seen a live screening, but not an actual live performance, so it was fun for me, but it was even more fun to watch three people who hadn't so much as seen the movie try to figure out what the hell was going on. Beautiful! They all seemed to really enjoy it, shouts and flying toilet paper and all. Heheheh.
Plus, I knew a lot more of the cast than I'd originally thought, so it was hilarious to watch people I know personally strutting around in drag or flinging themselves about in lingerie and heels. They really went for it, and it was a beautiful thing.
Anyway, good times. Not much going on, but not in a bad way. The holidays are coming up. so I'm enjoying the calm before the storm.
We should win. But I'm not counting that victory until the end of the game.
Plus, we got the Broncos the week after that. We won't be in Denver this time, Donkeys. We'll be in Arrowhead, and we'll be ready for you. Go Chiefs!
In other news, this has been a shockingly writingless month. Admittedly, I've had other stuff on my plate, but still. The most writing I've done has actually been a goofy "hey, we have fun emails at work that we could totally turn into a dumb internet talk show!" thing where I write me and a couple of friends at work into ridiculousness. Heh. I have to admit that it's pretty fun, and they seem to get a kick out of it, too.
The hardest part is that our characters have to talk about our celebrity crushes like we do in our regular emails, and that's really difficult for me to write. I've been juuuuuust a bit secretive about this one -- only told the one friend; didn't even tell my sister! -- so it's tricky for me to be open about it, knowing at least one other person will be reading. Luckily, I only have to use first names, and mine has a really common first name, so I can delude myself that I'm not ludicrously transparent and that the other reader doesn't really know for sure.
Ugh. Awkward turtle much?
Anyway, I basically said all that to say there's not much going on. We just started DickensFest preparations, and I'm playing a new character this year, which should be pretty exciting. No idea what I'll be doing (or wearing, for that matter), but it should be fun.
OH! And I took three newbies to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show as a live show last weekend! I'd seen a live screening, but not an actual live performance, so it was fun for me, but it was even more fun to watch three people who hadn't so much as seen the movie try to figure out what the hell was going on. Beautiful! They all seemed to really enjoy it, shouts and flying toilet paper and all. Heheheh.
Plus, I knew a lot more of the cast than I'd originally thought, so it was hilarious to watch people I know personally strutting around in drag or flinging themselves about in lingerie and heels. They really went for it, and it was a beautiful thing.
Anyway, good times. Not much going on, but not in a bad way. The holidays are coming up. so I'm enjoying the calm before the storm.
October 20, 2014
Dear Charlie:
Okay, so watching
Cabin in the Woods
again, I can't help but be both amused and appalled by a scene close to the end.
Spoilers, people. But seriously, how have you not seen this yet? It's Joss Whedon!
Anyway, the whole contrast between the friends in the woods fighting for their lives (more against the puppeteers than against the Buckners, actually) and the office drones running the control center is how callous to their jobs the puppeteers have become. They've seen (caused, actually) so many deaths in the name of noble sacrifice that they feel almost nothing. They've disconnected themselves from their empathy to the point that, even knowing they are directly causing these deaths, they still watch those screens like us watching the movie.
Nowhere is this illustrated better than when The Virgin is being pummeled and thrown around on the dock by one of the Buckners, and there's an honest to God party going on in the control room. See, because The Virgin can either live or die, so long as she's the last, neither her life nor her death has any value to the puppeteers beyond making sure she doesn't die out of order.
So while she's still fighting to survive a brutal knockdown drag-out on the screens in the background, the puppeteers are sipping tequila and talking about the job and bopping absently to some classic rock and basically going through all the awkward office party hobnobbing, oblivious to her struggle now that it's no longer important to The Cause.
She literally has no value to them now. Whether she lives or dies is no longer so much as a technicality. She no longer blips their radar.
That's just beautiful storytelling there. I mean, it's horrible to contemplate how unplugged you'd have to be to make those sacrifices every year, but to make all of that blatantly, brutally clear without actually saying it right out? To have her life-and-death struggle reduced to an ignored flicker on the screen in the background? The entire movie coalesced into a moment's juxtaposition of their world moving on while hers teeters on the brink?
Awesome. Especially when their empathy disconnect towards her flips on a dime when she has the power to save or end the world in her hands and they suddenly need her to take their side. She can kill her friend and save the world, or she can go gently into that good night -- after The Fool, of course, because her death still means no more than her life to them beyond that crucial distinction -- on the word of callous, asympathetic people who have already cost her all but one of her friends.
As The Fool himself says of their options, they're both so enticing. Heh, whichever should she choose?
Love this flick.
Oh, and my Chiefs are 3-3, so that's good. Go Chiefs!
Spoilers, people. But seriously, how have you not seen this yet? It's Joss Whedon!
Anyway, the whole contrast between the friends in the woods fighting for their lives (more against the puppeteers than against the Buckners, actually) and the office drones running the control center is how callous to their jobs the puppeteers have become. They've seen (caused, actually) so many deaths in the name of noble sacrifice that they feel almost nothing. They've disconnected themselves from their empathy to the point that, even knowing they are directly causing these deaths, they still watch those screens like us watching the movie.
Nowhere is this illustrated better than when The Virgin is being pummeled and thrown around on the dock by one of the Buckners, and there's an honest to God party going on in the control room. See, because The Virgin can either live or die, so long as she's the last, neither her life nor her death has any value to the puppeteers beyond making sure she doesn't die out of order.
So while she's still fighting to survive a brutal knockdown drag-out on the screens in the background, the puppeteers are sipping tequila and talking about the job and bopping absently to some classic rock and basically going through all the awkward office party hobnobbing, oblivious to her struggle now that it's no longer important to The Cause.
She literally has no value to them now. Whether she lives or dies is no longer so much as a technicality. She no longer blips their radar.
That's just beautiful storytelling there. I mean, it's horrible to contemplate how unplugged you'd have to be to make those sacrifices every year, but to make all of that blatantly, brutally clear without actually saying it right out? To have her life-and-death struggle reduced to an ignored flicker on the screen in the background? The entire movie coalesced into a moment's juxtaposition of their world moving on while hers teeters on the brink?
Awesome. Especially when their empathy disconnect towards her flips on a dime when she has the power to save or end the world in her hands and they suddenly need her to take their side. She can kill her friend and save the world, or she can go gently into that good night -- after The Fool, of course, because her death still means no more than her life to them beyond that crucial distinction -- on the word of callous, asympathetic people who have already cost her all but one of her friends.
As The Fool himself says of their options, they're both so enticing. Heh, whichever should she choose?
Love this flick.
Oh, and my Chiefs are 3-3, so that's good. Go Chiefs!
September 15, 2014
Dear Charlie:
Well, my Chiefs are 0-2, but I'm strangely unbothered by that. They didn't show well that first week, but yesterday, they came back from a huge deficit and damn near tied it up with that last play. Against the Broncos, who we held to a measly twenty-four points (and only three in the second half!). Suckers.
Anyway, I had an amusing exchange at work today and, because I'm juuuuuust a bit of a dork, I thought I'd share it here.
Okay, so my extension at work is 7666. Yes, it is. No, I didn't plan it. No, I didn't argue against it. I love it, and no one needs to be told twice.
So, when I got a work email from a friend that simply said "come here", I couldn't help but be all "You summoned me?", which, of course, made me think of fantasy novels and playing D&D back in the day. Admittedly, none of our mage characters were of the demon-summoning vintage, but seriously. It was right there.
So after I went to see what he needed, I sat back down at my desk and emailed back that he had summoned me and was now forced to deal with the consequences. It went something like this:
BEWARE, PUNY MORTAL!! What has been brought forth often cannot be banished as easily! And, since you failed to ring me with salt and spells, I am now free to wreak devastation and ruin upon this world! Mwahahahah!!
Pssh. Noob.
Sadly, he's a young'un and pretty sheltered, so he wasn't sure how to take my flight of fancy, but I had fun with it. Not every day you get to L33T someone in the same breath you threaten their immortal soul and all they hold dear.
Like Simon Gruber said in Die Hard: With a Vengeance, "Life... has its little bonuses."
Anyway, I had an amusing exchange at work today and, because I'm juuuuuust a bit of a dork, I thought I'd share it here.
Okay, so my extension at work is 7666. Yes, it is. No, I didn't plan it. No, I didn't argue against it. I love it, and no one needs to be told twice.
So, when I got a work email from a friend that simply said "come here", I couldn't help but be all "You summoned me?", which, of course, made me think of fantasy novels and playing D&D back in the day. Admittedly, none of our mage characters were of the demon-summoning vintage, but seriously. It was right there.
So after I went to see what he needed, I sat back down at my desk and emailed back that he had summoned me and was now forced to deal with the consequences. It went something like this:
BEWARE, PUNY MORTAL!! What has been brought forth often cannot be banished as easily! And, since you failed to ring me with salt and spells, I am now free to wreak devastation and ruin upon this world! Mwahahahah!!
Pssh. Noob.
Sadly, he's a young'un and pretty sheltered, so he wasn't sure how to take my flight of fancy, but I had fun with it. Not every day you get to L33T someone in the same breath you threaten their immortal soul and all they hold dear.
Like Simon Gruber said in Die Hard: With a Vengeance, "Life... has its little bonuses."
August 18, 2014
My Dearest Charles:
Holy crapola, but I've been writing this blog for ten damned years. How the heck did that happen??
Sorry, but I'm a little verklempt about that. Technically, ten years and ten days, as my first post was August 8, 2004. Good God, that's a long time ago.
All on this same blog. Hell, I've even kept the template the same this whole time, just adding or subtracting links to the sidebars every now and then and updating the Chiefs schedule every year. Some years are chattier than others. Some months are chattier than others.
Ten. Freakin. Years.
Some of those early posts are a little embarrassing, and some of the things in the "about you" lists aren't necessarily relevant anymore, but I decided a long time ago not to go back and change anything. It's like a time capsule, in a weird way. Periods of writing productivity. Bursts of community theatre and performance stuff. Movie-watching binges or being lost in a book series for a few days or weeks. Celebrity crushes that have come and gone, heh.
It's funny to skim over ten years of my past laid bare on the screen. This blog has never been a journal, really, but... it kinda became a journal anyway. I've tried to keep it light even in some of the darkest times (just after the 2011 tornado springs to mind), but I've still managed to talk about things that bother me, things that give me pause.
And things that make me laugh, of course. I love to laugh. I do it as often as possible, and, thankfully, I have a broad enough sense of humor to think almost everything is funny.
Anyway, there's nothing really profound here. It's just the ramblings of an Average Jane living a mundane life with all its ups and downs. I'm under no delusion that anyone but friends and family read it, and even that only when they have the time. I keep this blog for me because I like it better than a website (as you can probably tell by how long it's been since I've put any new content on my poor writer's website).
Just... whew. Ten years. In internet years, that's like back when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth.
Damn.
Sorry, but I'm a little verklempt about that. Technically, ten years and ten days, as my first post was August 8, 2004. Good God, that's a long time ago.
All on this same blog. Hell, I've even kept the template the same this whole time, just adding or subtracting links to the sidebars every now and then and updating the Chiefs schedule every year. Some years are chattier than others. Some months are chattier than others.
Ten. Freakin. Years.
Some of those early posts are a little embarrassing, and some of the things in the "about you" lists aren't necessarily relevant anymore, but I decided a long time ago not to go back and change anything. It's like a time capsule, in a weird way. Periods of writing productivity. Bursts of community theatre and performance stuff. Movie-watching binges or being lost in a book series for a few days or weeks. Celebrity crushes that have come and gone, heh.
It's funny to skim over ten years of my past laid bare on the screen. This blog has never been a journal, really, but... it kinda became a journal anyway. I've tried to keep it light even in some of the darkest times (just after the 2011 tornado springs to mind), but I've still managed to talk about things that bother me, things that give me pause.
And things that make me laugh, of course. I love to laugh. I do it as often as possible, and, thankfully, I have a broad enough sense of humor to think almost everything is funny.
Anyway, there's nothing really profound here. It's just the ramblings of an Average Jane living a mundane life with all its ups and downs. I'm under no delusion that anyone but friends and family read it, and even that only when they have the time. I keep this blog for me because I like it better than a website (as you can probably tell by how long it's been since I've put any new content on my poor writer's website).
Just... whew. Ten years. In internet years, that's like back when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth.
Damn.
July 21, 2014
Dear Charlie:
I just had one of the funnest weekends ever, which is strange, because I barely got any sleep at all, and that's usually a dealbreaker.
A few months ago, my beloved sister and I decided that we needed to head down to Dad's farm in the boonies for a writer's retreat. We haven't been able to get much done on our collaboration for a year, and we were hoping that sitting out on Dad's back deck in the quiet, looking at the peaceful view, sipping ice tea and listening to the birds and the breeze would give us the opportunity to really reopen those creative channels. We wanted to do it in June, but that didn't work for either of our schedules, so we decided on July, even with the expected heat.
Thank you, polar vortex. It was beautiful weather, only made more beautiful by how cool and shady it is on Dad's back deck.
Anyway, she did have to bring her three girls, but they rode horses for the most part, so we were able to knuckle down and brainstorm. And oh, what brainstorming. Some of the things we'd just kinda thrown out there before suddenly made all the sense ever. Accidental things. See, we're writing two separate points of view: I'm writing the sarcastic jerk of a private detective while Joely's writing the tortured but willing-to-do-anything-she-has-to heroine. Thus, we didn't give each other all the details about our characters or their backstories, so we were just kinda winging it in a lot of ways.
None of that should have worked. None of that should have come together seamlessly. BUT IT ALL TOTALLY DID.
Once we put our heads together and started really hashing out the details, hammering down the family tree, determining just what's in the artifact the heroine is so desperate to find, outlining exactly what happened twenty-four years ago that sent them both spiralling toward devastating futures that may well end them both... it all started making perfect sense. It's like it was all planned out before we even started. But it wasn't. I swear, it wasn't.
It's just... magic. Unbelievable, awesome, creativity-juicing magic. It's glorious.
Plus, we got to go visit the haunted slave plantation that served as the inspiration for our little tale. We grew up in the same town as that house and heard all sorts of crazy things about it, but this was a guided tour by the grandson of the owner, who is a local history buff and told us plenty of history before sending us off with the kid to look around to our heart's content. Oh, and we also got to enter the little cemetery just off from the house and within sight of the road. People think it's a slave cemetery, but it's actually a family-and-friend plot. Some of the stones have fallen over, while others are so worn from weather and time that you can only make out letters by touch, but we spent a good, long time looking around, feeling the ambiance, reading the inscriptions and wondering. And plotting.
I know I'm a nerd for getting such a kick out of something my nieces found boring as hell, but Joely and I were damn near giddy by the time we got back into the minivan and left.
And we got actual writing done. We each got new direction and impetus on the story, and we're determined that, whether it's too long or not marketable enough or firmly within any specific genre or whatever, we're by God finishing this story. It's a BIG story. It's an amazing story. It's begging to be told.
The rest is secretarial.
Oh, and we also ate fresh veggies from Dad's garden, Joely's fancy spaghetti made with her favorite wine, went to the cheese factory in our home town, bought sweet corn from some Amish folk, ate blackberries the size of my thumb right off the bushes at a distant cousin's house, stood on the edge of a ridge and looked at the local-famous bluffs across the valley, and had a perfect bonfire one night, during which we told ghost stories and strange happenings and did a little stargazing (when we could get the girls to look away from their iPhones, of course).
So, no, I couldn't sleep the first night because I'm so used to living alone that all the other people in the house and their little noises and movements and the unfamiliar bed kept me from conking out. And yes, I did wake up obscenely early the second morning even though I'd rather walk on my eyelids than be out of bed before noon any other weekend. And yes, I basically got through the entire weekend on a scant five hours of sleep and still had to go to work today and function normally.
Totally worth it. It was a glorious weekend. I can't wait to repeat it.
Though I could skip that "couldn't sleep at all the first night" part. That part kinda sucked.
A few months ago, my beloved sister and I decided that we needed to head down to Dad's farm in the boonies for a writer's retreat. We haven't been able to get much done on our collaboration for a year, and we were hoping that sitting out on Dad's back deck in the quiet, looking at the peaceful view, sipping ice tea and listening to the birds and the breeze would give us the opportunity to really reopen those creative channels. We wanted to do it in June, but that didn't work for either of our schedules, so we decided on July, even with the expected heat.
Thank you, polar vortex. It was beautiful weather, only made more beautiful by how cool and shady it is on Dad's back deck.
Anyway, she did have to bring her three girls, but they rode horses for the most part, so we were able to knuckle down and brainstorm. And oh, what brainstorming. Some of the things we'd just kinda thrown out there before suddenly made all the sense ever. Accidental things. See, we're writing two separate points of view: I'm writing the sarcastic jerk of a private detective while Joely's writing the tortured but willing-to-do-anything-she-has-to heroine. Thus, we didn't give each other all the details about our characters or their backstories, so we were just kinda winging it in a lot of ways.
None of that should have worked. None of that should have come together seamlessly. BUT IT ALL TOTALLY DID.
Once we put our heads together and started really hashing out the details, hammering down the family tree, determining just what's in the artifact the heroine is so desperate to find, outlining exactly what happened twenty-four years ago that sent them both spiralling toward devastating futures that may well end them both... it all started making perfect sense. It's like it was all planned out before we even started. But it wasn't. I swear, it wasn't.
It's just... magic. Unbelievable, awesome, creativity-juicing magic. It's glorious.
Plus, we got to go visit the haunted slave plantation that served as the inspiration for our little tale. We grew up in the same town as that house and heard all sorts of crazy things about it, but this was a guided tour by the grandson of the owner, who is a local history buff and told us plenty of history before sending us off with the kid to look around to our heart's content. Oh, and we also got to enter the little cemetery just off from the house and within sight of the road. People think it's a slave cemetery, but it's actually a family-and-friend plot. Some of the stones have fallen over, while others are so worn from weather and time that you can only make out letters by touch, but we spent a good, long time looking around, feeling the ambiance, reading the inscriptions and wondering. And plotting.
I know I'm a nerd for getting such a kick out of something my nieces found boring as hell, but Joely and I were damn near giddy by the time we got back into the minivan and left.
And we got actual writing done. We each got new direction and impetus on the story, and we're determined that, whether it's too long or not marketable enough or firmly within any specific genre or whatever, we're by God finishing this story. It's a BIG story. It's an amazing story. It's begging to be told.
The rest is secretarial.
Oh, and we also ate fresh veggies from Dad's garden, Joely's fancy spaghetti made with her favorite wine, went to the cheese factory in our home town, bought sweet corn from some Amish folk, ate blackberries the size of my thumb right off the bushes at a distant cousin's house, stood on the edge of a ridge and looked at the local-famous bluffs across the valley, and had a perfect bonfire one night, during which we told ghost stories and strange happenings and did a little stargazing (when we could get the girls to look away from their iPhones, of course).
So, no, I couldn't sleep the first night because I'm so used to living alone that all the other people in the house and their little noises and movements and the unfamiliar bed kept me from conking out. And yes, I did wake up obscenely early the second morning even though I'd rather walk on my eyelids than be out of bed before noon any other weekend. And yes, I basically got through the entire weekend on a scant five hours of sleep and still had to go to work today and function normally.
Totally worth it. It was a glorious weekend. I can't wait to repeat it.
Though I could skip that "couldn't sleep at all the first night" part. That part kinda sucked.
June 27, 2014
My Dearest Charles:
Oh, happy day!
I was tempted to post this yesterday, but I was too full of ridiculous squee to keep it bearable. I'm just so excited about the Pacific Rim sequel. I can't help myself. But I think I've calmed down enough to be rational now.
Then again, I'm still kicking myself for not seeing the first one in the theater. I will not be missing this one. Is it 2017 yet?
I'm only bummed that so many of my favorite characters from the first movie won't be around for the second. Plenty of folks got... well... Whedoned. Yancy Becket, for instance. I know his death was the catalyst for so many events and portents of doom, but... damn. He was fun, and then, like ten minutes later, he was gone.
Chuck Hansen. Sure, he's an asshole. Sure, he didn't seem to care for anything but his dog. Sure, Guillermo del Toro gave him that dog because, no matter how bad he is, you can't hate a man who loves a dog.
But honestly? I don't think Max the bulldog is Chuck Hansen's redeeming feature, like everyone says. I think his redeeming feature is standing on Striker Eureka's shoulder, ringside at the Gipsy/Leatherback Rumble on the Rim fight, shouting, "YEAH, GIPSY! KICK HIS ASS!!" at the top of his lungs.
That wasn't a "hey, the has-been just came and saved our asses" shout. That was an "I spent my teenage years with Gipsy Danger posters on my wall and was pissed at you for leaving but holy crap you're RIGHT THERE and I got front row seats!" shout, and to me, that redeems every single snark and every single punch up to that point.
And then, boom. Dead. Ugh.
The Kaidanovskys. God, I so wanted more about them. Talk about your hardcore! One of my favorite little tidbits of this movie is Cherno Alpha advancing on Otachi, that heavy right hand rotating back and forth before leading in with a punch. It's just such a human lead-in for a giant robot, and it reminds the viewer that there really are human beings running these big things, and when they get hit back, it hurts.
And when they die, they aren't in the sequel. Dammit.
It's not that I don't like the characters that are left -- far from it! There's plenty of character gold to be mined in the survivors, and I can't wait to see what del Toro does with the franchise.
Just... wish they could all turn into Force ghosts haunting the Drift and handing out sage advice to the returning heroes. Hey, if Obi-wan can do it, I don't see why Chuck Hansen can't. He was practically raised in the Drift, for cryin out loud.
Okay, I really just want Rob Kazinsky to be in the sequel. Dude deserves it. I think he might be his own movie's biggest fan [videos, parts one and two, from the Atlanta Shatterdome con, where he dropped in out of the blue because they saw he was in town and asked if he would, and he's awesome like that], and he gets all giddy and awesomely nerdy when he talks about it. Throw him a bone, Hollywood!
At any rate, I'll admit that I've been pretty giddy and nerdy all day myself, and I'm fairly certain that my work friends are going to strangle me long before 2017 rolls around. Hopefully, they'll tolerate my fangurling at least until filming starts so I can die knowing it will for sure come out and not get stuck in production hell.
Please, God!
I was tempted to post this yesterday, but I was too full of ridiculous squee to keep it bearable. I'm just so excited about the Pacific Rim sequel. I can't help myself. But I think I've calmed down enough to be rational now.
Then again, I'm still kicking myself for not seeing the first one in the theater. I will not be missing this one. Is it 2017 yet?
I'm only bummed that so many of my favorite characters from the first movie won't be around for the second. Plenty of folks got... well... Whedoned. Yancy Becket, for instance. I know his death was the catalyst for so many events and portents of doom, but... damn. He was fun, and then, like ten minutes later, he was gone.
Chuck Hansen. Sure, he's an asshole. Sure, he didn't seem to care for anything but his dog. Sure, Guillermo del Toro gave him that dog because, no matter how bad he is, you can't hate a man who loves a dog.
But honestly? I don't think Max the bulldog is Chuck Hansen's redeeming feature, like everyone says. I think his redeeming feature is standing on Striker Eureka's shoulder, ringside at the Gipsy/Leatherback Rumble on the Rim fight, shouting, "YEAH, GIPSY! KICK HIS ASS!!" at the top of his lungs.
That wasn't a "hey, the has-been just came and saved our asses" shout. That was an "I spent my teenage years with Gipsy Danger posters on my wall and was pissed at you for leaving but holy crap you're RIGHT THERE and I got front row seats!" shout, and to me, that redeems every single snark and every single punch up to that point.
And then, boom. Dead. Ugh.
The Kaidanovskys. God, I so wanted more about them. Talk about your hardcore! One of my favorite little tidbits of this movie is Cherno Alpha advancing on Otachi, that heavy right hand rotating back and forth before leading in with a punch. It's just such a human lead-in for a giant robot, and it reminds the viewer that there really are human beings running these big things, and when they get hit back, it hurts.
And when they die, they aren't in the sequel. Dammit.
It's not that I don't like the characters that are left -- far from it! There's plenty of character gold to be mined in the survivors, and I can't wait to see what del Toro does with the franchise.
Just... wish they could all turn into Force ghosts haunting the Drift and handing out sage advice to the returning heroes. Hey, if Obi-wan can do it, I don't see why Chuck Hansen can't. He was practically raised in the Drift, for cryin out loud.
Okay, I really just want Rob Kazinsky to be in the sequel. Dude deserves it. I think he might be his own movie's biggest fan [videos, parts one and two, from the Atlanta Shatterdome con, where he dropped in out of the blue because they saw he was in town and asked if he would, and he's awesome like that], and he gets all giddy and awesomely nerdy when he talks about it. Throw him a bone, Hollywood!
At any rate, I'll admit that I've been pretty giddy and nerdy all day myself, and I'm fairly certain that my work friends are going to strangle me long before 2017 rolls around. Hopefully, they'll tolerate my fangurling at least until filming starts so I can die knowing it will for sure come out and not get stuck in production hell.
Please, God!
