Geekery

Feb. 16th, 2007 11:02 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
We've been having a fine old time rewatching Babylon 5, since I got [livejournal.com profile] sargon999 the complete series on DVD. It's nice rediscovering a series, and seeing how differently I now relate to most of the characters.

Ivanova is still wonderful, and probably my favorite character, but ten years ago I thought of her as a hardass. My standards for "hardass" have evidently changed. Compared to Starbuck, she's a pushover. I like Dr. Franklin better than I did my first time through, and Garibaldi much better. I used to have a massive crush on Commander Sheridan; I initially missed most of Season 1, so I never got to know Commander Sinclair and how utterly cool he was.

After watching "A Distant Star" Sargon was seized with a fit of geek nostalgia. He unearthed a recipe for Garibaldi's favorite: bagna cauda. We made it tonight.

This was the first time I have ever made anything, taken one bite, and had to physically restrain myself from leaping up and calling friends to come over and try some right now. It is so incredibly good. It isn't properly a main dish, it's a dipping sauce, but holy crap is it yummy.

Yes, I can hear those of you who just went to look at the recipe choking in dismay. You probably are justifiably afraid your arteries are hardening just looking at it. "All that butter! All that oil! And anchovies?! Are you INSANE?!"

Trust me. It's incredible. Anchovy paste and all. I will be making it again next time we have anyone over, I'm sure. It's the sort of thing you want to eat with company. It's a finger food -- yeah, you read that right. You put it in a chafing dish or fondue pot and dip veggies or shrimp or whatever into it, and instead of using napkins, you just catch the drippings with bread. When the bread is soaked, you eat that, too. We had it with steamed prawns and spinach tortelloni for dipping, and asiago bread for the drippings.

If I'd thought to make a small salad beforehand, it would've been even better.

While I'm gushing about wonderful things, I'd also like to take this opportunity to say nice things about Sargon. He has spent the last two days working his ass off rearranging the den. We have a new TV stand, a massive DVD shelf that holds our entire DVD collection with room to grow, and I now have my own workspace complete with desk and light. He did all this so quickly I only had one day of downtime where I could not paint. I am very pleased.

Yes, I still need to get a proper chair for myself, and there is still a massive hole in the downstairs wall, but I have a workspace! I am so, so happy.

Just in time, too. If you look at my status page, you can see my workload. THAT is why I am going to be slow to answer email for a while. I have a lot on my plate, most of it in the preliminary stages.

In other website news, I still cannot get the CSS quite right. I have been having a problem with thumbails floating in the wrong places on the main and especially the boxes and past commissions pages. I think I fixed it for good, but I can't be sure until I haven't seen it pop up for a few days.

I am no good at code; I extensively altered a template to get the site I have, and incorporated bits of this and that I found on other sites. It's amazing to me that I have made it this far.

I'll have an update on the auction stuff tomorrow; lots of good news there.

Until then, I'm worn out and have to get some rest so I can get back to work. Have a good weekend!

Geekery

Feb. 16th, 2007 11:02 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
We've been having a fine old time rewatching Babylon 5, since I got [livejournal.com profile] sargon999 the complete series on DVD. It's nice rediscovering a series, and seeing how differently I now relate to most of the characters.

Ivanova is still wonderful, and probably my favorite character, but ten years ago I thought of her as a hardass. My standards for "hardass" have evidently changed. Compared to Starbuck, she's a pushover. I like Dr. Franklin better than I did my first time through, and Garibaldi much better. I used to have a massive crush on Commander Sheridan; I initially missed most of Season 1, so I never got to know Commander Sinclair and how utterly cool he was.

After watching "A Distant Star" Sargon was seized with a fit of geek nostalgia. He unearthed a recipe for Garibaldi's favorite: bagna cauda. We made it tonight.

This was the first time I have ever made anything, taken one bite, and had to physically restrain myself from leaping up and calling friends to come over and try some right now. It is so incredibly good. It isn't properly a main dish, it's a dipping sauce, but holy crap is it yummy.

Yes, I can hear those of you who just went to look at the recipe choking in dismay. You probably are justifiably afraid your arteries are hardening just looking at it. "All that butter! All that oil! And anchovies?! Are you INSANE?!"

Trust me. It's incredible. Anchovy paste and all. I will be making it again next time we have anyone over, I'm sure. It's the sort of thing you want to eat with company. It's a finger food -- yeah, you read that right. You put it in a chafing dish or fondue pot and dip veggies or shrimp or whatever into it, and instead of using napkins, you just catch the drippings with bread. When the bread is soaked, you eat that, too. We had it with steamed prawns and spinach tortelloni for dipping, and asiago bread for the drippings.

If I'd thought to make a small salad beforehand, it would've been even better.

While I'm gushing about wonderful things, I'd also like to take this opportunity to say nice things about Sargon. He has spent the last two days working his ass off rearranging the den. We have a new TV stand, a massive DVD shelf that holds our entire DVD collection with room to grow, and I now have my own workspace complete with desk and light. He did all this so quickly I only had one day of downtime where I could not paint. I am very pleased.

Yes, I still need to get a proper chair for myself, and there is still a massive hole in the downstairs wall, but I have a workspace! I am so, so happy.

Just in time, too. If you look at my status page, you can see my workload. THAT is why I am going to be slow to answer email for a while. I have a lot on my plate, most of it in the preliminary stages.

In other website news, I still cannot get the CSS quite right. I have been having a problem with thumbails floating in the wrong places on the main and especially the boxes and past commissions pages. I think I fixed it for good, but I can't be sure until I haven't seen it pop up for a few days.

I am no good at code; I extensively altered a template to get the site I have, and incorporated bits of this and that I found on other sites. It's amazing to me that I have made it this far.

I'll have an update on the auction stuff tomorrow; lots of good news there.

Until then, I'm worn out and have to get some rest so I can get back to work. Have a good weekend!
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian Wags)
In which I fangirl ridiculously about getting my Lucian jacket.

Feel free to transcribe. I'll be busy. Naked and busy. With leather!

MINE!

naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian Wags)
In which I fangirl ridiculously about getting my Lucian jacket.

Feel free to transcribe. I'll be busy. Naked and busy. With leather!

MINE!

naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian Wags)
Well, I am a confirmed uber-dork. Looky what I won on ebay! Lucian's leather jacket from the first Underworld movie. At this moment, no happier fangirl exists on earth. Seriously. I have so much love for him. Naughty puppy love.

Thank you, [livejournal.com profile] speakerwiggin, for pointing the auction out to me.

Please, [livejournal.com profile] greenjeanz, don't hate me. I promise to let you sniff it or roll on it or whatever you want to do with it.

There was a fight over it at the last minute, but I won. And I'm paying for it with money I made writing bondage ass porn. Sometimes life is just too sweet. Ah, happy, happy, happy! I must now go do the werewolf dance of joy!

(At the writers' meeting. I'm totally late.)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian Wags)
Well, I am a confirmed uber-dork. Looky what I won on ebay! Lucian's leather jacket from the first Underworld movie. At this moment, no happier fangirl exists on earth. Seriously. I have so much love for him. Naughty puppy love.

Thank you, [livejournal.com profile] speakerwiggin, for pointing the auction out to me.

Please, [livejournal.com profile] greenjeanz, don't hate me. I promise to let you sniff it or roll on it or whatever you want to do with it.

There was a fight over it at the last minute, but I won. And I'm paying for it with money I made writing bondage ass porn. Sometimes life is just too sweet. Ah, happy, happy, happy! I must now go do the werewolf dance of joy!

(At the writers' meeting. I'm totally late.)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Wow. Okay.

Lots to sum up.

The signing on Thursday with Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman was fun for all. There are two very nice pictures under the cut, taken by my court photographer: Sargon the Terrible. I was so ridiculously happy to meet them both that I'm still jazzed about it.

Thursday night, I slipped and pulled my leg, the bad one, so it hurt when I got up on Friday. I got less than four hours of sleep, thanks to cats, noisy neighbor dogs, and general freak-outitude. On waking, I attempted to sit down to write, only to have the dogs next door go off yet again. Not wanting to trek downstairs and outside with my bum leg, I simply drummed on the window and put my fist clean through it. Several bandaids later, I still had a gaping hole in the side of the house through which the sounds of barking dogs came clearly. Didn't get any work done.

Sargon took the test for the postal job and thinks he did very well. We'll see if all your zombie goat buttsniffing lighting-farts-for-Odin juju really did any good in two months when he will hypothetically get the results.

Saturday was the Nimrod conference, which was enlightening and fun and more than a little heartening. Both Delia and Ellen were on hand to provide insight and advice, and two better ladies I have never met. They are both incredibly brilliant and sharp, and it was a distinct honor to speak with them.

I did have to miss lunch so that I could come home and help fix the window, but made it back for the second half of the conference and my last course. I have a lot to chew on, and will probably talk about some of it here, since I'll be talking a lot about writing in the next month. It's National Novel Writing Month next month, after all.

I'm going to cut it short because I have about a million things to do, but I will leave you with the pictures.

Clicky. )

That's all, folks!
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Wow. Okay.

Lots to sum up.

The signing on Thursday with Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman was fun for all. There are two very nice pictures under the cut, taken by my court photographer: Sargon the Terrible. I was so ridiculously happy to meet them both that I'm still jazzed about it.

Thursday night, I slipped and pulled my leg, the bad one, so it hurt when I got up on Friday. I got less than four hours of sleep, thanks to cats, noisy neighbor dogs, and general freak-outitude. On waking, I attempted to sit down to write, only to have the dogs next door go off yet again. Not wanting to trek downstairs and outside with my bum leg, I simply drummed on the window and put my fist clean through it. Several bandaids later, I still had a gaping hole in the side of the house through which the sounds of barking dogs came clearly. Didn't get any work done.

Sargon took the test for the postal job and thinks he did very well. We'll see if all your zombie goat buttsniffing lighting-farts-for-Odin juju really did any good in two months when he will hypothetically get the results.

Saturday was the Nimrod conference, which was enlightening and fun and more than a little heartening. Both Delia and Ellen were on hand to provide insight and advice, and two better ladies I have never met. They are both incredibly brilliant and sharp, and it was a distinct honor to speak with them.

I did have to miss lunch so that I could come home and help fix the window, but made it back for the second half of the conference and my last course. I have a lot to chew on, and will probably talk about some of it here, since I'll be talking a lot about writing in the next month. It's National Novel Writing Month next month, after all.

I'm going to cut it short because I have about a million things to do, but I will leave you with the pictures.

Clicky. )

That's all, folks!

Puppy Soup.

Oct. 2nd, 2005 03:14 am
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Mal Shoots First)
In the company of good friends and alarming hats, I trekked to see Serenity last night.

Whedon mixes philosophy quite expertly into his plots, and Serenity is no exception. I'll want many more watchings to absorb all the nuances, I'm certain. And, as always, Joss serves up the sudden sideswipes and the painfully poignant moments. I went in totally cold, came out thrilled and shocked, and am still trying to digest my puppy soup.

See, [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie has this all worked out, and he's explained it to me.

Joss Whedon cooks a fantastic dinner, the best you ever tasted. So you eat what he cooks, night after night. And one night, he hands you a bowl and says "Here's your puppy soup."

And what he means by that is "your puppy soup." As in, soup made from your puppy.

And the horrible thing is that you eat it. And you know, it's good.

What infelicities there were had nothing to do with lack of quality, and everything to do with Joss Whedon trying to cram two seasons' worth of character-driven shows into a two-hour slot. Movies are different, they demand very different things; Joss understands this, and went ahead and made a movie, and not a two-hour episode of Firefly.

The biggest hit was to character. In terms of pacing, Firefly was often a very laid-back show, and it wasn't afraid to take two minutes for character development where one would've served. This is a big part of why I loved it, but that kind of time wasn't available here. Thankfully, I already knew the characters, which is fortunate, because there was not nearly as much room for them to do their thing.

I have no idea how it would come across to someone who had never seen the show. Favorably, I think, but not as favorably as if they already knew the crew. For me, seeing Serenity again, being inside her, was an incredibly moving experience. I love that ship. I love those characters. And I loved that show.

The movie isn't quite the same, but it still felt like coming home.

Yes, sir. Damn good puppy soup.

Puppy Soup.

Oct. 2nd, 2005 03:14 am
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Mal Shoots First)
In the company of good friends and alarming hats, I trekked to see Serenity last night.

Whedon mixes philosophy quite expertly into his plots, and Serenity is no exception. I'll want many more watchings to absorb all the nuances, I'm certain. And, as always, Joss serves up the sudden sideswipes and the painfully poignant moments. I went in totally cold, came out thrilled and shocked, and am still trying to digest my puppy soup.

See, [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie has this all worked out, and he's explained it to me.

Joss Whedon cooks a fantastic dinner, the best you ever tasted. So you eat what he cooks, night after night. And one night, he hands you a bowl and says "Here's your puppy soup."

And what he means by that is "your puppy soup." As in, soup made from your puppy.

And the horrible thing is that you eat it. And you know, it's good.

What infelicities there were had nothing to do with lack of quality, and everything to do with Joss Whedon trying to cram two seasons' worth of character-driven shows into a two-hour slot. Movies are different, they demand very different things; Joss understands this, and went ahead and made a movie, and not a two-hour episode of Firefly.

The biggest hit was to character. In terms of pacing, Firefly was often a very laid-back show, and it wasn't afraid to take two minutes for character development where one would've served. This is a big part of why I loved it, but that kind of time wasn't available here. Thankfully, I already knew the characters, which is fortunate, because there was not nearly as much room for them to do their thing.

I have no idea how it would come across to someone who had never seen the show. Favorably, I think, but not as favorably as if they already knew the crew. For me, seeing Serenity again, being inside her, was an incredibly moving experience. I love that ship. I love those characters. And I loved that show.

The movie isn't quite the same, but it still felt like coming home.

Yes, sir. Damn good puppy soup.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Mal Shoots First)
For those of you who are fans of Firefly, here is a link to the Firefly Chinese Pinyinary, which supplies translations of all the Chinese slang used in the show.

And for those of you awaiting a more personal update, that'll come in a few minutes when I'm through fuming.

Dong-ma?
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Mal Shoots First)
For those of you who are fans of Firefly, here is a link to the Firefly Chinese Pinyinary, which supplies translations of all the Chinese slang used in the show.

And for those of you awaiting a more personal update, that'll come in a few minutes when I'm through fuming.

Dong-ma?
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
This is the Obligatory Con Summary With Pictures Post.

I'm back! Back in the land of the living, back from the dead, revived from the post-con exhaustion. Thank you, thank you, I missed you all.

This was a writer's convention, and I learned a lot. I won't try to wax philosphical about the publishing industry, not when I could post pictures (and I'm already waxed), so I'll save it for another time.

I meant to post lots of fun pictures. I am afraid there will only be a few. The disposable cameras I got were really shitty, and only about half the pictures turned out, and of those most were still tres crappy.

There is still fun to be had, however.

Brave the cut to check it out. )

Later, by which I mean in the next couple of days, I will post a couple book reviews, and then I will show you a very bad picture of a very beautiful costume. Right now, I have to get something constructive done.

link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
This is the Obligatory Con Summary With Pictures Post.

I'm back! Back in the land of the living, back from the dead, revived from the post-con exhaustion. Thank you, thank you, I missed you all.

This was a writer's convention, and I learned a lot. I won't try to wax philosphical about the publishing industry, not when I could post pictures (and I'm already waxed), so I'll save it for another time.

I meant to post lots of fun pictures. I am afraid there will only be a few. The disposable cameras I got were really shitty, and only about half the pictures turned out, and of those most were still tres crappy.

There is still fun to be had, however.

Brave the cut to check it out. )

Later, by which I mean in the next couple of days, I will post a couple book reviews, and then I will show you a very bad picture of a very beautiful costume. Right now, I have to get something constructive done.

link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Well, I'm alive.

I'm going to post about the convention in bits and pieces over the next few days, and it will probably be pretty incoherent. I'm still really stirred up from being out of the house and around so many people.

Prepare for shameless name-dropping, people.

Husband and I went to the toastmaster dinner with Walter Jon Williams, who I believed was the best living SF writer even before I met him and discovered that I like him immensely. Now that I know I like him, well . . . he's gone from being a good writer to a good person in my mind. The two do not meet as often as you might believe.

There were about forty people at the dinner, which was an invite-only affair. Luckily, we got to sit at his table, so I can now say with certainty that Walter Jon Williams does not sugar his iced tea, and takes it with one lemon, exactly like me. He will also pass you the lemons if you ask politely. He also owns cats. A civilized man.

There was much conversation, and my husband only made an ass out of himself once. I feel that we all did very well. Walter is an incredibly interesting guy. The Q and A session was a lot of fun. I don't know if he made me feel better or worse about my odds, but I do know that it's nice to have a reality check that validates what you already thought was true.

He recounted Roger Zelazny's tale of the Lucky Chicken, and I will attempt to paraphrase the gist of it here, because I think it is important.

Roger was talking at a convention about breeding a race of super-lucky chickens (I don't know why). But his theory was that you would take all the eggs laid by the chickens and throw them into the air. The ones that didn't break, the lucky ones, you would hatch, then throw their eggs into the air, and so on and so forth, until you had a race of super-lucky chickens, which would then proceed to rule the world.

Roger's point -- and Walter's -- was this: writers are the luckiest people on the planet. We are the eggs that get thrown up into the air again and again, and we don't break.

Zelazny asserted that anytime writers gathered, trouble was in the offing, because they would use up all the ambient luck in the area, and he was apparently fond of citing evidence for this in the form of accidents that frequently happened just after he left someplace.

I think there may be something to that. Not that we use up our luck, or anyone else's, but that there is something different about those who are successful and those who are not. Those who are not eventually break under the pressure. Those who succeed never break. They never quit.

Walter confessed that there was a point a few years ago, after he published The Rift, which did not do well, where he thought his career was dead. Not just in trouble, but hanging-by-the-heels, hide-on-the-barn-door dead. Which comes as a shock. I have been an admirer of his books for years. It seems unthinkable . . . unfair . . . that a writer as tremendously talented as he is should suffer the same fear and uncertainty about his career that, say, I do. But things don't change. One book, or twenty, or fifty, doesn't change the fact that if your luck runs out . . . it's out.

He's doing better now. He's got some new work out, and he's excited about what he's working on. Not all his eggs are broken. He's still got chickens, and he's a lucky old bird, himself. All his old stuff is out of print, though (check your local used shops right now, people). And that's upsetting. Books that meant a lot to me, Hardwired, Voice of the Whirlwind, Aristoi, those books are not being printed anymore.

I did manage to pull him aside at one point, and attempted to express to him how meaningful Aristoi was to me.

I hate being a fan. I hate trying to explain something so bone-deep and visceral. I told Elizabeth Moon last year something like "I read your book and liked it a lot, thanks for keeping me happily entertained for a week." Her work was entertaining, but not really earth-shattering to me. But telling Walter Jon Williams that I am not normally moved by things that I read, but that I have read Aristoi three times and every time it has just knocked the Hell out of me, that it meant a lot to me, that was very hard.

I don't know how he meant what he wrote. Aristoi is a complicated book. Very complicated. Heck, it's meant something different to me every time I have read it. So I can't say "I understood it." I don't think anyone can ever understand exactly what a writer meant. I think that doesn't really matter. All I can say is that Aristoi was meaningful to me at a time when I desperately needed to hear what it seemed to be saying about humanity and the strength within the broken soul. And that kind of thing, that baring of a naked wound, it's hard to do it without overdoing it.

It's easy to say "I admire your work. It makes me want to write." But his doesn't. It makes me want to live.

But I tried to make him understand anyway, with words that never come when you want them to, and he really seemed to appreciate it even though it is just hard for me to talk like that to anyone. I tried not to be all fawning, but it was not easy. I am sorta naturally doe-eyed. I smiled a lot and made bad jokes, and he listened when I spoke. I had a good night.

A thousand years to him. And a thousand worlds.

link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Well, I'm alive.

I'm going to post about the convention in bits and pieces over the next few days, and it will probably be pretty incoherent. I'm still really stirred up from being out of the house and around so many people.

Prepare for shameless name-dropping, people.

Husband and I went to the toastmaster dinner with Walter Jon Williams, who I believed was the best living SF writer even before I met him and discovered that I like him immensely. Now that I know I like him, well . . . he's gone from being a good writer to a good person in my mind. The two do not meet as often as you might believe.

There were about forty people at the dinner, which was an invite-only affair. Luckily, we got to sit at his table, so I can now say with certainty that Walter Jon Williams does not sugar his iced tea, and takes it with one lemon, exactly like me. He will also pass you the lemons if you ask politely. He also owns cats. A civilized man.

There was much conversation, and my husband only made an ass out of himself once. I feel that we all did very well. Walter is an incredibly interesting guy. The Q and A session was a lot of fun. I don't know if he made me feel better or worse about my odds, but I do know that it's nice to have a reality check that validates what you already thought was true.

He recounted Roger Zelazny's tale of the Lucky Chicken, and I will attempt to paraphrase the gist of it here, because I think it is important.

Roger was talking at a convention about breeding a race of super-lucky chickens (I don't know why). But his theory was that you would take all the eggs laid by the chickens and throw them into the air. The ones that didn't break, the lucky ones, you would hatch, then throw their eggs into the air, and so on and so forth, until you had a race of super-lucky chickens, which would then proceed to rule the world.

Roger's point -- and Walter's -- was this: writers are the luckiest people on the planet. We are the eggs that get thrown up into the air again and again, and we don't break.

Zelazny asserted that anytime writers gathered, trouble was in the offing, because they would use up all the ambient luck in the area, and he was apparently fond of citing evidence for this in the form of accidents that frequently happened just after he left someplace.

I think there may be something to that. Not that we use up our luck, or anyone else's, but that there is something different about those who are successful and those who are not. Those who are not eventually break under the pressure. Those who succeed never break. They never quit.

Walter confessed that there was a point a few years ago, after he published The Rift, which did not do well, where he thought his career was dead. Not just in trouble, but hanging-by-the-heels, hide-on-the-barn-door dead. Which comes as a shock. I have been an admirer of his books for years. It seems unthinkable . . . unfair . . . that a writer as tremendously talented as he is should suffer the same fear and uncertainty about his career that, say, I do. But things don't change. One book, or twenty, or fifty, doesn't change the fact that if your luck runs out . . . it's out.

He's doing better now. He's got some new work out, and he's excited about what he's working on. Not all his eggs are broken. He's still got chickens, and he's a lucky old bird, himself. All his old stuff is out of print, though (check your local used shops right now, people). And that's upsetting. Books that meant a lot to me, Hardwired, Voice of the Whirlwind, Aristoi, those books are not being printed anymore.

I did manage to pull him aside at one point, and attempted to express to him how meaningful Aristoi was to me.

I hate being a fan. I hate trying to explain something so bone-deep and visceral. I told Elizabeth Moon last year something like "I read your book and liked it a lot, thanks for keeping me happily entertained for a week." Her work was entertaining, but not really earth-shattering to me. But telling Walter Jon Williams that I am not normally moved by things that I read, but that I have read Aristoi three times and every time it has just knocked the Hell out of me, that it meant a lot to me, that was very hard.

I don't know how he meant what he wrote. Aristoi is a complicated book. Very complicated. Heck, it's meant something different to me every time I have read it. So I can't say "I understood it." I don't think anyone can ever understand exactly what a writer meant. I think that doesn't really matter. All I can say is that Aristoi was meaningful to me at a time when I desperately needed to hear what it seemed to be saying about humanity and the strength within the broken soul. And that kind of thing, that baring of a naked wound, it's hard to do it without overdoing it.

It's easy to say "I admire your work. It makes me want to write." But his doesn't. It makes me want to live.

But I tried to make him understand anyway, with words that never come when you want them to, and he really seemed to appreciate it even though it is just hard for me to talk like that to anyone. I tried not to be all fawning, but it was not easy. I am sorta naturally doe-eyed. I smiled a lot and made bad jokes, and he listened when I spoke. I had a good night.

A thousand years to him. And a thousand worlds.

link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
My own sister suffers from the delusion that Buffy the Vampire Slayer is, somehow, a waste of time.

We had a brief and juvenile exchange the other day of the “Is!” “Is NOT!” “IS!!” “IS NOT!!” variety, which left me atypically steamed. I mean, we can differ on huge issues and pfft! Nothing. No temper. But dis the Buffster, and suddenly I’ve got sand in my vagina. She criticized me for liking Xena, too, even though she didn’t seem to understand that the very reason I liked it was the cheesiness. This, for her, was the major anti-selling point. Apparently she feels the same way about Buffy, despite never having watched an episode.

I suspect that this has more to do with the name than anything else. You know, that goofy ‘Buffy’ just puts everyone off. Hell, it put me off for years. And the concept . . . I just wasn’t biting (ha ha).

I mean, get real. Some skinny white chick is the chosen one?

Out of how many billions of people?

Sure.

But then I saw an episode, and another one, and I realized that it was actually funny. Then I watched the first season and I realized I had something really special in my hands. So here’s my 10 reasons why Buffy rules:

Reasons Buffy Rules )

I could list a dozen more, some flippant, some not. I loved the fact, by the way, that pretty much every band to play the Bronze really sucked rotten lizard eggs. I know I’m going to piss some people off, but this point really isn’t arguable. I loved it when Giles’ glasses came off (the “Yes, but . . .” and “Oh, dear” moments). And you just gotta love a girl who can kickbox while wearing a fuzzy pink sweater and not lose her credibility.

That’s my kind of girl.

link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
My own sister suffers from the delusion that Buffy the Vampire Slayer is, somehow, a waste of time.

We had a brief and juvenile exchange the other day of the “Is!” “Is NOT!” “IS!!” “IS NOT!!” variety, which left me atypically steamed. I mean, we can differ on huge issues and pfft! Nothing. No temper. But dis the Buffster, and suddenly I’ve got sand in my vagina. She criticized me for liking Xena, too, even though she didn’t seem to understand that the very reason I liked it was the cheesiness. This, for her, was the major anti-selling point. Apparently she feels the same way about Buffy, despite never having watched an episode.

I suspect that this has more to do with the name than anything else. You know, that goofy ‘Buffy’ just puts everyone off. Hell, it put me off for years. And the concept . . . I just wasn’t biting (ha ha).

I mean, get real. Some skinny white chick is the chosen one?

Out of how many billions of people?

Sure.

But then I saw an episode, and another one, and I realized that it was actually funny. Then I watched the first season and I realized I had something really special in my hands. So here’s my 10 reasons why Buffy rules:

Reasons Buffy Rules )

I could list a dozen more, some flippant, some not. I loved the fact, by the way, that pretty much every band to play the Bronze really sucked rotten lizard eggs. I know I’m going to piss some people off, but this point really isn’t arguable. I loved it when Giles’ glasses came off (the “Yes, but . . .” and “Oh, dear” moments). And you just gotta love a girl who can kickbox while wearing a fuzzy pink sweater and not lose her credibility.

That’s my kind of girl.

link

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naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
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