Unexpected therapy

Today was my first scriptwriting class. The instructor is quite cool, and as it turns out is also a producer at the BBC.

NBD.

One of the first things she had us do was pair up with a stranger and stare into each other's eyes for 90 seconds. You're probably thinking the same thing I did: UGH. It was exactly as awkward as you would imagine it. Yet for some reason I found myself doing it with very little trouble. When my (younger, obviously) partner would begin giggling to relieve her discomfort, I would just give her a little smile to let her know that was ok, even though I wasn't laughing. I find eye contact terribly uncomfortable, so it was surprising to me that I managed as well as I did. I can't lie, I'm still a bit proud of myself.

After that we had to interview one another, the process of which would give us the chance to determine what type of rock star, politician, and movie character the other would be. After the first few groups went up and got this wonderful/terrifying analysis of themselves done in front of the class (by not only their partner but by the instructor and the rest of the class), I was dying to go up and find out what they had to say about me. Because I am forever assuming how people see me and I just couldn't pass up the chance to see how people actually see me, even if somewhat superficially.

It was possibly the most interesting and insightful thing I've ever been a part of. I won't go into details just because it would take a novel to really dig into it, but I what it made me realize is that I'm actually an interesting person with my own story that's worth telling. I know it sounds kind of like I'm fishing for whatever when I say that, but the truth of it is that most of the time I don't feel that's the case. That I'm just one of the masses. As many people probably do, or why would "Jersey Shore" exist?

Random observation of the day: As a movie character, I was the strong, independent woman. As a politician I was Hillary Clinton. As a rock star I was Janis Joplin or Stevie Nicks. I will definitely take that last one.

(Sort of) Movie review: Magic Mike

(Things get a wee bit ranty up in here, but I tried to keep it somewhat light after venting off all The Rage in my first draft. Enjoy!)

After a day of stuffing film theory in my head, I got a text from the roomie: "Was thinking Magic Mike, tomato soup, tuna melts."

My response: "OOMG YES PLS." (sic.)

Much amazing food was had and I even managed to get a bit more studying in during the snore-inducing "plot" scenes. I also became kind of curious about the movie, so popped onto IMDb to check it out, which was when I stumbled onto a thread honking about the "double standard" of the movie.

Seriously you guys. I could not stop laughing.

Basically the arguments against the film and the primarily female audience's reactions were made by men crossing their arms and HRMPHing something about how if someone made a movie about female strippers and they made such a big deal about seeing it, women would have an absolute snit.

First of all, at least three movies about female strippers spring immediately to mind. Showgirls, Striptease, and Dancing at the Blue Iguana. Those are just off the top of my head. Already these poor men are losing the battle.

Second, cry me a river. For real. If there isn't a single man out there decrying this film as the direct result of a bruised ego, I'll eat my laptop. They can wave their double standards! flag all they want, but if they conquered their discomfort long enough to watch the film they'd see how misogynist it is. Women are portrayed as either pathetically screaming and waving money around or ready to leap into bed with the object of their lust without a single thought. The male strippers in the movie love their jobs, because they spend their working hours having their egos stroked and their off hours having their dicks stroked, both by slathering fangirls. The one "normal" woman in the film is so shrewish in her rejection of the lifestyle that she swiftly becomes intolerable.

Does this detract from my enjoyment of the film? Hell no. Especially with the DVD release, which allowed me to skip right past all that pesky plot and just watch the dance scenes. I did see it in the theater as well and although I did not witness any of the screaming exuberance that seems to irk so many of these harping men, my friend and I joked throughout about throwing quarters at the screen and get to the damn dance sequences already. And also Matthew McConaughey because he is fucking hilarious in this movie. Alright alright alright indeed.

Most guys I know probably do not feel this way. I'm sure most of them are perfectly fine with the women in their lives, be they wives, girlfriends, sisters, or friends, appreciating the, er, aesthetics of the movie. They may be a little threatened by our attraction to the film's stars, but most of them understand that we women feel the same way when our significant others' eyes start to fall out of their heads during trailers with Angelina Jolie in them. And if we women celebrate the existence of Magic Mike a little more vocally than men are "allowed" to cheer on the lovely Ms. Jolie's topless scenes, it's because women have spent so much time in the passive, "looked at" role and men in the active, "looking" role. If you don't believe me, I have reams of film studies essays to back me up. When this position is ever-so-rarely reversed, we get a little excited.

We shouldn't have to apologize for that. Or for this:

You're welcome, my male-enamored friends.

A day in the life

It's nearly the end of the my first semester in London. I don't know where the time went, but the quick run-down of my life since I last posted (I don't know when that even was and I'm too lazy to go look) is this: I'm clawing my way through my classes; I'm broke beyond belief (£.17 in my bank account right now, no lie); and I started a job with a hotel which will not be named as a housekeeper, which may actually kill me.

Don't worry, things aren't as dire as they sound. I'm also still enjoying school and the fact that I'm in London, I'm feeling a lot of love for my friends, my Mom is amazing, and Christmas/my 35th birthday are just around the corner.

So! On with business. I'm normally off Wednesdays, but since Professor Awesome was offering a review session for British Horror I dragged myself out of bed at what was supposed to be 8am but turned into 9am after I poked the snooze button a little too much. I did get really lucky with transportation, catching a bus and both trains within a few minutes of arriving at each place.

I've been listening to the latest (2009) 30 Seconds to Mars album rather obsessively on the commute for the past few days, partly because my phone is stupid and partly because the album is EPIC and lots of fun to listen to while traveling. Seriously, try cranking "Kings & Queens" while in a moving vehicle of any kind and tell me you don't have the urge to climb on top of whatever it is and throw your arms out and pretend you're flying. Always helpful for gearing up to sit in a classroom for several hours talking film theory... Luckily Professor Awesome kept it interesting as always, in spite of his noticeable head cold. The good news about British Horror is that I've finally settled on a topic for my paper; the bad news is I only have a week to make an excellent 3000 word essay out of it. Also the class is almost over, which makes me sadface. #FirstWorldProblems

I attempted to sell some textbooks to get money for cat litter. Found out I can't do that until Monday, and only two of the three will be taken by my school bookstore. However, I later determined that I can sell the third book - along with one of the Film Studies books I impulsively brought to London with me - on the internets. w00t! With luck, the total sale will net me around £40. That's a lot of cat litter! And boy is it needed... the damn box is about 80% pee, 10% poo, 10% litter. YIKES.

Now if my cigarettes would just show up... they appear to have been shipped to the US for some reason, but the online store isn't answering me when I tell them I'm in the UK now (as I have been for the last two perfectly successful orders). I am making a trollface right now. Thank goodness for the random pack of cigs I found on the steps into the Tube station near my job and the idiot who dropped a nearly full box. However, the supply is almost out and then I'm in full-on nicotine withdrawal until I have money/get the smokes I ordered. Look out, London.

Random observation of the day: a British girl in my Horror class who I always thought was a bit detached and arrogant turned out to be an amazingly funny and cool person when I finally got a chance to talk to her today. I love when a person I've judged totally breaks down my first impressions and makes me remember why those judgments I make are bullshit, just like the judgments I think people make about me are bullshit.

FREE HUGS

Two posts in one day? What is this madness?

The last one was a bit depressing (even though it kind of wasn't) and something rather awesome happened to me today, so I thought I'd share that as well.

As I was heading across campus on my way to class, I encountered a guy holding a large sign that said FREE HUGS. Just standing there with his sign, catching everyone's eyes as they walked past without knowing quite what to do with this admittedly odd sentiment.

Dude, there's no way I'm passing up a deal like that. He caught my eye as I made a course change and ended up right in his arms. I think my voice was just a little thick as I thanked him and headed on my way. The thing is, this little gesture plastered a smile on my face for the better part of an hour. That's all it took. Just a FREE HUG.

The moral of this story: sometimes people? Are fucking amazing.

Life on the Couch: So, this thing happened yesterday...

...and I've had no idea how I'm supposed to feel about it.

I watched along with millions of people around the world as my President announced that the American military, on his command, had killed a man who had spent the last decade being a modern-day boogeyman... and I was frightened. I listened to reporters and correspondents discuss the end of the war on terror... and I was skeptical. I watched footage of a crowd outside the White House singing and chanting and celebrating this boogeyman's death... and I was disturbed. I read statements from my own friends who were fiercely joyful at the news that a man had been killed... and I worried. I heard congratulations being offered by people I admired to other people I admired... and I squirmed.

I also wondered... why he was killed. Why he wasn't captured, and tried. I wondered what happened in that mansion in Pakistan that led to more death.

I've been thinking about 9/11 today, remembering the horror and the devastation and the fear and the mourning. I've tried to make those feelings fit with the feelings I've had about the death of Osama Bin Laden. I can't make them fit. I think about all the people who lost someone they loved as the result of orders and plans made by the man who was killed on the orders and plans of the American military and Barack Obama. I don't want to begrudge these victims the feeling of closure this might give them, the small amount of peace they may get from knowing this man is dead.

But it feels so wrong.

Here's what doesn't make sense. In his address to the nation (to the world), Obama said that justice had been served with the death of Bin Laden. But what happened last night wasn't justice. It was vengeance.

Justice would have been his capture and trail... even if the end result was the same. I am not a military strategist, or a politician, or an expert on foreign policy. I'm not a Democrat or a Republican, an atheist or a believer. There are a lot of situations where I don't like to take a stand one way or the other because I just don't know enough about it to do so. But sometimes I have to trust my gut. And my gut is telling me that it's not right to celebrate Osama Bin Laden's death. I could ramble on and on about why, but Martin Luther King Jr. said it better than I ever could:

“I will mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”

Thanks to all the people who posted this on their Twitter feeds or Facebook statuses, and helped me to understand why I cannot celebrate alongside so many people that I love and respect.

Geek Weekly: We. Are. Everywhere.

I'm starting to think it was a bad idea to put a specific day of the week in the titles of my theme posts. I'm not this good at committing.

I work in an office that is only slightly different from any basic corporate/government office in that we all know and use sign language on a daily basis. Otherwise it’s exactly as you’d expect… fluorescent lighting, cubicles, people who tetch and roll their eyes at each other’s music, a kitchenette with a sign on the microwave imploring people not to make popcorn. Just another of the many, many skyway-adjacent offices you’ll find in any Midwestern metropolitan area.

Being a geek is a bit like being gay.

Bear with me on this.

Both sets of people tend to hide this part of their lives in the everyday world. Or at least, not call attention to it. Both will steer clear of subjects that bring it out in the open when they are in certain environments (like work), for fear of alienating people with their unique nature. Both were probably traumatized by bullying and ostracism by the “normal” folks when they were young, and often when they find out that a person is gay- or geek-“friendly” (or gay/geek themselves) in a work or similar environment, the floodgates open and they can finally be themselves.

At least geeks can marry each other.

But I digress. My point was that it’s sometimes hard to know who I can talk about random geek things with and not get the blank stare (or worse, polite smile and shifty eyes that says I’ve set off some sort of DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! signal in their brain). So mostly I just keep it to myself… unless someone sets off my geekdar. Or even better, I set off theirs.

The two geeks I’ve met in my Office Space-like environment are H the delivery guy and K the security dude. Both of them are almost always in uniform when I see them, which is why I didn’t catch the geek signals from either of them… although I have seen K in his civvies on a few occasions, so I suspected. But H hides his geek well, under the guise of his good looks (and awareness of them). But in both cases, I ended up out myself to them.

With H it was excited babble about a pending trip to the UK, during which I’d be attending a “Doctor Who”-centric sci-fi convention. When he heard this, he promptly told me how he’d always dreamed of going to Comic-Con, and that he’s a total Star Wars nerd. It was an instant connection, the walls came tumbling down, and we were suddenly geeking at each other with the kind of enthusiasm rarely seen or heard in Cubicle World.

It was another con that outed me to K. I do sign language stuff for a local sci-fi/fantasy convention, so had brought some flyers to work in an attempt to maybe grab the attention of some of the deaf folk who never bothered to go because they didn’t realize there were interpreters. K spotted the flyer, with its eye-catching Metropolis-inspired artwork, and it was 45 minutes before we emerged from our horror-themed geek fugue.

Sometimes it's hard to imagine that all the normal people we interact at our jobs or in our daily lives with could be as geeky as us. But the truth is, geeks are everywhere.

Life on the Couch: Valentine's Day, single-girl style.

So, you ask, how should I, as a single person, spend this ridiculous day?

Enjoy the fact that you're unencumbered and have no one to impress. Don't shave. Leave the expensive perfume in the medicine cabinet. Wear sweats. Order a double-onion pizza, and follow it up with an entire bag of those delicious pink and white M&M's. Fart as loud as you can. (Just, you know, be careful... you don't want to gamble and lose.) Marathon your favorite bad show. Hog the remote. Cuddle your pets. Go out and see a movie by yourself. Indulge in some self-loving. Wallow in it.

In case you're wondering what I mean by that, it's exactly what you think. Knock one out. Have a wank. Masturbate. Watch your favorite porn, fire up your favorite battery-powered toy, or just light some candles and run a bath. However you enjoy it most, do it. I bet you'll have a better orgasm than most of the couples out there. 'Cause you have nothing to prove to anyone.

Whatever you do, don't be hard on yourself. Don't feel bad because you're single.

If I sound cynical, it's because I am. Valentine's Day is unfair. It's an insidious thing, and you shouldn't let it get you down just because you don't have a significant other. You're not worth any less because you're not half of a pair. You're a whole, beautiful person all on your own. The gross truth about Valentine's Day is that it is a celebration in exclusion, an arbitrary day on the calendar that gives the false impression that you're more important if you're coupled off. After all, you don't see any days devoted to celebrating single people.

Just as bad, it puts pointless pressure on couples to prove their worth as a pair by having them exchange flowers and candy hearts. Even on those rare occasions when I have been part of a couple on Valentine's Day, it felt totally false and forced. The little gestures people feel they have to make on this one specific day would have so much more meaning if they were spontaneous, driven by love rather than obligation.

Celebrate the day however you like. I'm going to spend it being proud that I can exist as a singular entity, that I don't need another person to complete me. Mostly, I'm not going to do anything at all.

Geek Weekly: I am a geek.

In the past few years, it's become cool to be a geek.

You've got Wil Wheaton and the characters of “The Big Bang Theory” (not to mention dozens of others) showing us how easy life is for a geek. But see, there's a secret no one's telling you. Are you ready for it? You sure?

It's actually no cooler to be a geek now than it ever was.

The thing is, most of the stuff that geeks have traditionally loved (translation: obsessed over) have become mainstream. All those people out there claiming to be geeks? Most of them are just “normal” people who happen to like the Lord of the Rings movies or read the Harry Potter books. The true definition of a geek is somewhat different.

Take a look at this handy visual guide I found on the internets to see what I mean:



See, there's a lot more to it than meets the eye. Geeks (or nerds, or dorks) tend to have poor social skills. They obsess about the things they “fan” to a degree that all those other people find disconcerting, if not downright alarming. They have such a difficult time relating to the world around them that they prefer to live in a universe created by George Lucas or Neil Gaiman. They can only find a certain amount of acceptance among other geeks. The only reason they seek acceptance at all is because human beings are social creatures and want to be with other humans. Well, that and they want to make sure as many people as possible know how much they know about “Doctor Who.”

Another thing about geeks? They are fiercely protective of their status. They are True Geeks because they have suffered. Unfortunately, in their (usually futile) attempts to shelter and protect themselves from The Bullies, they often end up shutting themselves off from the world instead. It's a vicious circle, really.

I consider myself a geek, although I don't feel that particular sense of protectiveness. If the backward-hat and khaki-shorts wearing college boys want to play D&D on the weekends, or to wait in line for a midnight showing of Avatar (the third re-release, with 28 seconds of new footage!), then more power to them. The fact that they like something that I like, causing it to become popular, can only benefit me. It means that more of the things I like will get made, because they bring in the almighty dollar.

To be honest, I sometimes feel on the outside even amongst geeks. Because no matter how much you've always wanted to be on the inside, no matter how much pain and suffering you've gone through to finally get there, once you've finally arrived you look at those poor souls still on the outside trying to get in, and you lock the door against them.

It's even worse, now that it's become cool to be a geek.

But enough of that emo shit. (Don't you hate emo kids? They're so lame.)

In spite of that, I wear my geek badge with pride. Because the best part about being a geek is that there are so many flavors. Mine is based largely on a Star Wars/“Star Trek” background, with a healthy dose of Stephen King and a massive affinity for horror movies thrown in. My tastes have changed over the years, evolved into something different with every new discovery. After resisting for years, I finally dove head-first into the world of Harry Potter and never looked back. More recently I discovered the joy that is the “Doctor Who” reboot (Eccleston is totally my Doctor). About a year ago, my obsessive tendencies drew me to a strange little German soap opera called “Alles Was Zählt,” because of the gay storyline. And that's only scratching the surface of my fandom experience.

There is so much more about me that makes me a geek, most of which I'll explore at a later time, because this entry is already too long as it is.