I have to apologize for getting horribly behind on blogging this week. It's a terrible paradox - when I'm not doing anything, I have nothing to blog about, but when I'm busy... well, obviously, I'm busy. No time to sit down and type out my impressions of everything.
As I've mentioned before, summer is best time of year for a Geek Girl like me. Especially July - it starts with a bang and ends with a pilgrimage to Geek Mecca, Comic-Con International. But besides my Geek Girl credentials, I also happen to be a card-carrying member of the Obsessive Planning and List-Making Guild. (Just ask my boyfriend.) So not only can I tell you what I will be doing each night next week, I can tell you what I'll be doing each weekend in August. And there's a Christmas present for my boyfriend hidden deep in the linen closet.
Which can all combine for a minor meltdown around the end of June, as I consult with my mom on the annual Independence Day jamboree, finalize plans for the Labyrinth Masquerade, and work on costumes for each day of Comic-Con. As well, my job inexplicably also expects me to come to work on a regular basis during these crucial weeks, and pay attention while I'm there, despite the fact that I clearly have more interesting things to be doing.
So yesterday I ran out to look for 4th of July decorations (patriotic, but not even remotely military. I love my country but I wouldn't want anyone to think I had anything in common with our current President. I won't even buy fireworks with bellicose names. Bring on the Purple Rain, but leave the Tank Salute at the store), tried to find new horns for a costume (the ones we ordered online looked nothing like their picture), did all the grocery shopping (including $40 worth of liquor for my killer 4th of July lemonade punch), then came home and sewed costumes for six hours. Which is not nearly as impressive as it sounds. I did manage to shorten a dress, cut out all the pieces of a showgirl-style skirt, create a harness for a pair of wings, and hem and add fastenings to another dress.
Well, actually I was impressed. But I don't really count, and besides, I know people who can actually sew who could have completed all those projects in about a third of the time. It takes me half an hour just to wind a bobbin and thread the machine, and that dress that I hemmed is listed on the pattern envelope as a "1 hour dress". I've put in approximately six hours on it so far. But it is the first whole garment I've ever made and it does (miraculously) fit, so it is something of an accomplishment.
However, it's an accomplishment I'm going to need to replicate often over the next couple of weeks. I still have a lot to do. At the moment, all of my costumes are balanced on the edge: they're a little too weird to be street clothes, but they're not obviously costumes of a particular thing yet. Except for my American McGee's Alice, I guess. I cheated on that one by buying the Alice dress ready-made at Disneyland (I'm little, which is a disadvantage when I want to be anyone with boobs, but comes in handy for things like this because I can usually wear the largest size in children's clothes), and I have the wig and the boots.
But my costuming break has already dragged on too long. It's back to the sewing machine for me now. Wish me luck, and forgive my blogging distraction.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Call me in October
Ah, summer in Los Angeles. The sweltering heat, the vast majority of apartments without central air conditioning, the endless traffic and $4.60 per gallon gasoline... it's my favorite season.
Not, of course, for any of the reasons above. Summer in Los Angeles in my particular habitat consists of evenings and weekends in my stuffy apartment, wishing for air conditioning, and weekday mornings and afternoons in my subzero office cubicle, wishing air conditioning had never been invented. But since I try to block out all aspects of my job when I'm not actually doing it, and since I like my apartment well enough when I don't hate it, the weather doesn't really figure into my seasonal rankings. (Especially because, as I mentioned, I live in southern California... I've heard of seasons, but I believe they're a myth.)
But summer is heaven for geeks all across the country. I don't really understand why, actually. You'd think that people whose favorite activities almost all involve being indoors would do better in another season. Hrm... come to think of it, maybe that's exactly why - with everyone else glorying in the availability of water sports, geeks need to find new and creative reasons to stay inside. Whatever. Anyway, there are a veritable galaxy of exciting geek events in the summer. I don't have space to list them all, but I will add links to a few of the coolest... and a few I'll be attending.
http://www.renfair.com/bristol/
One of the largest Renaissance fairs in the country, the Bristol Faire runs from the Fourth of July weekend through Labor Day on the Illinois/Wisconsin border. Scotsmen, pirates, princesses and the fae mingle for your amusement, and all sorts of awesome weaponry, masks, and trinkets are for sale. Even non-geeks can have fun swilling ale and gnawing on turkey legs while marveling at the endless parade of sunburnt cleavage on display. Fun for the whole family!
http://www.bsvscenariogame.com/
This is the most fantastic idea I've heard in a long time, and only the price of jet fuel and my complete ineptitude at sports are keeping me from participating. A bunch of hardcore Firefly fans in the Midwest have decided to stage the Battle of Serenity Valley as a giant paintball game. I thought I was a Whedon freak, but clearly these people have me beat. The Browncoats might still end up the losing side, but we all know they aren't the wrong one.
http://www.labyrinthmasquerade.com/
This geek event is based on the David Bowie/Jennifer Connelly movie Labyrinth, but it's expanded into a massive geek party where everyone is required to attend in costume - or at least in formalwear and a mask. Even if you can't attend, hit the site to check out the photo galleries from the last couple years. Some people spend months creating their costumes, and it shows.
http://www.comic-con.org/cci/
Comic-Con International. I think Tom Spurgeon at The Comics Reporter sums it up pretty well in his article "Welcome to Nerd Vegas":
(http://www.comicsreporter.com/index.php/welcome_to_nerd_vegas_a_guide_to_visiting_and_enjoying_comic_con_internatio/),
but if you need more tips I intend to outline my own personal strategy (and numerous pet peeves) in a later post.
http://www.denvention3.org/
The annual Worldcon is in Denver this year, and it promises to be a great time. The guest of honor is one of my favorite authors, Lois McMaster Bujold (stop reading this blog immediately and pick up the Vorkosigan saga if you haven't already), and next year the convention is in Canada, so get there while you can.
http://www.dragoncon.org/
Admittedly, I've never been to DragonCon, but let's face it, it has an awesome name, and if I ever become independently wealthy, I'm attending every Con on the planet. This one is definitely on my list... even if I'm not sure I want to spend Labor Day weekend in Atlanta.
http://www.gencon.com/2008/indy/
It's not called "the best four days in gaming" for nothing. Every year in Indianapolis, geeks come from all over the world to buy books, cards, miniatures, and everything else associated with fanstasy games like D&D and Magic: The Gathering. It's not quite as picturesque as when it was still in Milwaukee, but if you're into RPGs it's practically a national holiday.
And there are, of course, a number of fun things to do that don't require you to get in touch with your inner geek. If you're in southern California, you might check out these:
http://www.sdfair.com/
http://www.sawdustartfestival.org/
http://www.ocfair.com/
In the meantime, celebrate the Fourth of July. Food, fun, and most importantly FIREWORKS make this my favorite holiday of the year. If it's not geeky enough for you, try holding a roman candle in each hand, and pretending you're a wizard.
Not, of course, for any of the reasons above. Summer in Los Angeles in my particular habitat consists of evenings and weekends in my stuffy apartment, wishing for air conditioning, and weekday mornings and afternoons in my subzero office cubicle, wishing air conditioning had never been invented. But since I try to block out all aspects of my job when I'm not actually doing it, and since I like my apartment well enough when I don't hate it, the weather doesn't really figure into my seasonal rankings. (Especially because, as I mentioned, I live in southern California... I've heard of seasons, but I believe they're a myth.)
But summer is heaven for geeks all across the country. I don't really understand why, actually. You'd think that people whose favorite activities almost all involve being indoors would do better in another season. Hrm... come to think of it, maybe that's exactly why - with everyone else glorying in the availability of water sports, geeks need to find new and creative reasons to stay inside. Whatever. Anyway, there are a veritable galaxy of exciting geek events in the summer. I don't have space to list them all, but I will add links to a few of the coolest... and a few I'll be attending.
http://www.renfair.com/bristol/
One of the largest Renaissance fairs in the country, the Bristol Faire runs from the Fourth of July weekend through Labor Day on the Illinois/Wisconsin border. Scotsmen, pirates, princesses and the fae mingle for your amusement, and all sorts of awesome weaponry, masks, and trinkets are for sale. Even non-geeks can have fun swilling ale and gnawing on turkey legs while marveling at the endless parade of sunburnt cleavage on display. Fun for the whole family!
http://www.bsvscenariogame.com/
This is the most fantastic idea I've heard in a long time, and only the price of jet fuel and my complete ineptitude at sports are keeping me from participating. A bunch of hardcore Firefly fans in the Midwest have decided to stage the Battle of Serenity Valley as a giant paintball game. I thought I was a Whedon freak, but clearly these people have me beat. The Browncoats might still end up the losing side, but we all know they aren't the wrong one.
http://www.labyrinthmasquerade.com/
This geek event is based on the David Bowie/Jennifer Connelly movie Labyrinth, but it's expanded into a massive geek party where everyone is required to attend in costume - or at least in formalwear and a mask. Even if you can't attend, hit the site to check out the photo galleries from the last couple years. Some people spend months creating their costumes, and it shows.
http://www.comic-con.org/cci/
Comic-Con International. I think Tom Spurgeon at The Comics Reporter sums it up pretty well in his article "Welcome to Nerd Vegas":
(http://www.comicsreporter.com/index.php/welcome_to_nerd_vegas_a_guide_to_visiting_and_enjoying_comic_con_internatio/),
but if you need more tips I intend to outline my own personal strategy (and numerous pet peeves) in a later post.
http://www.denvention3.org/
The annual Worldcon is in Denver this year, and it promises to be a great time. The guest of honor is one of my favorite authors, Lois McMaster Bujold (stop reading this blog immediately and pick up the Vorkosigan saga if you haven't already), and next year the convention is in Canada, so get there while you can.
http://www.dragoncon.org/
Admittedly, I've never been to DragonCon, but let's face it, it has an awesome name, and if I ever become independently wealthy, I'm attending every Con on the planet. This one is definitely on my list... even if I'm not sure I want to spend Labor Day weekend in Atlanta.
http://www.gencon.com/2008/indy/
It's not called "the best four days in gaming" for nothing. Every year in Indianapolis, geeks come from all over the world to buy books, cards, miniatures, and everything else associated with fanstasy games like D&D and Magic: The Gathering. It's not quite as picturesque as when it was still in Milwaukee, but if you're into RPGs it's practically a national holiday.
And there are, of course, a number of fun things to do that don't require you to get in touch with your inner geek. If you're in southern California, you might check out these:
http://www.sdfair.com/
http://www.sawdustartfestival.org/
http://www.ocfair.com/
In the meantime, celebrate the Fourth of July. Food, fun, and most importantly FIREWORKS make this my favorite holiday of the year. If it's not geeky enough for you, try holding a roman candle in each hand, and pretending you're a wizard.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Of Ends and Endlessness
So I've been thinking a lot lately about the last episode of Buffy. (Now, while I firmly believe that Buffy is the greatest television show of all time, this is not the post where I will defend that point. I don't have that kind of time today.) I'm not actually a fan of the final episode. I can kind of see where they were trying to go with it, but I thought that it fell really short when compared with the rest of the series, and ultimately it left me sad not only that the series had ended, but also that this episode was the last experience I would ever have of it.
Here isn't really the place to go into full detail on that either. Although I will say that the lack of mourning for Spike, the compression of mourning for Anya into one tossed-off "That's my girl" from Xander, the complete waste of time on an in-joke so obscure that all the dedicated fans I know missed it (the Trogdor joke - the only non-fan in the room for the finale had to explain it to us) - suffice it to say that the only thing that kept me from hiding in my room and bawling inconsolably afterward was the fact that I had thrown a party to watch it and my guests were still in attendance.
But all of those minor annoyances aside, I still had a major problem with the big spell. You know the one - Willow sits on the floor with the legendary Slayer scythe in her lap and pulls all the power she can handle to modify the ancient spell that creates and activates Slayers. Connected through the scythe, she holds on long enough to activate every potential Slayer currently on the planet - girls as young as eight or nine up through teenagers. As the show puts it, every girl who might have been a Slayer now is a Slayer. (The show's mythology was always a little vague on Slayer creation - it's hard to say what the earliest age it's possible to identify a Potential is, and there's also no information on at what point you presumably age out of the possibility. I'm assuming the spell did not also activate women in their thirties and beyond, who might have been Slayers if the current Slayer when they were fifteen, say, had died.)
To be honest, I wasn't initially that bothered by the spell. I thought the episode spent a little too much visual time on it (there was one recurring shot in particular, of a girl batting in a softball game - please, just hit the damned ball already!), but in general it seemed a fairly ingenious solution to the hordes of demons the Scooby Gang was facing. What bothered me came later, when a friend told me that Joss Whedon had explained that the spell was supposed to symbolize the final step in Buffy's journey to adulthood - the realization that she is not the only Chosen One, simply one of many, and that her life, no matter how heroic and dramatic, is not the center of the universe.
Which, let's face it, is hugely depressing. The idea that the final step to growing up is, essentially, realizing that you just aren't all that special, horrifies me. I agree that the life-or-death self-centeredness that is the hallmark of adolescence must eventually give way to a more nuanced and inclusive view of the world, of course. And I do occasionally marvel at how little time I spent thinking of others as a teenager. But that ending still seems to take it a step too far. Because if you're not the star of your own life - if you don't get to be the Slayer or the Princess or the Jedi Knight - then you're just a number, living out your tiny life alongside the billions of other tiny lives, lost forever in the vastness of the universe. If that's adulthood, I decline.
But what got me thinking about this was the endless go-round of everyday adulthood. The constant cycle of bill paying and grocery shopping and laundry and everything else. Especially lately, as I've had to deal with getting slightly older on all fronts: socially, where many of my friends are getting married and one pair even managed to buy a house; financially, where I've discovered that saving for retirement is what you get to look forward to even before you've paid off your student loans; and biologically, where I'm having to start taking into account things like maybe I should start wearing sunscreen every day if I don't want to look like my grandmother by the time I'm forty. Which is all pretty depressing in its own right. And I got to thinking that maybe Joss was right after all, that you do grow up and settle down and settle for what you've got.
So I was depressed by my tiny life and the tiny events that could eventually be expected to parade through it (if I could ever scrape together the funds to finance any of them): wedding, house purchase, children, vacations, etc. Until, thankfully, I remembered something that happened on another Joss Whedon show, when Angel had an epiphany.
"If there is no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters... then all that matters is what we do. Cause that's all there is. What we do, now, today."
Angel, Epiphany (2:16)
Angel was both an adult and a hero, and this sounds like a pretty good philosophy to me. What you do every day matters, at least to you and the people around you. It matters a lot, in fact, even if all you do is all you can do in your tiny life, even if you're not a Slayer or a vampire or a Jedi Knight. And if that doesn't make you the hero of your own story, then I don't know what does.
I grew up with Buffy - went to high school in Southern California the same years she did and graduated college a week before the final episode aired. But it looks like I can't follow her to adulthood (a metaphor which actually works really well, as her story continues in comic book form, which I don't read as I can't seem to connect to the medium). I've graduated to Angel instead. Guess now I know why I moved to Los Angeles.
Here isn't really the place to go into full detail on that either. Although I will say that the lack of mourning for Spike, the compression of mourning for Anya into one tossed-off "That's my girl" from Xander, the complete waste of time on an in-joke so obscure that all the dedicated fans I know missed it (the Trogdor joke - the only non-fan in the room for the finale had to explain it to us) - suffice it to say that the only thing that kept me from hiding in my room and bawling inconsolably afterward was the fact that I had thrown a party to watch it and my guests were still in attendance.
But all of those minor annoyances aside, I still had a major problem with the big spell. You know the one - Willow sits on the floor with the legendary Slayer scythe in her lap and pulls all the power she can handle to modify the ancient spell that creates and activates Slayers. Connected through the scythe, she holds on long enough to activate every potential Slayer currently on the planet - girls as young as eight or nine up through teenagers. As the show puts it, every girl who might have been a Slayer now is a Slayer. (The show's mythology was always a little vague on Slayer creation - it's hard to say what the earliest age it's possible to identify a Potential is, and there's also no information on at what point you presumably age out of the possibility. I'm assuming the spell did not also activate women in their thirties and beyond, who might have been Slayers if the current Slayer when they were fifteen, say, had died.)
To be honest, I wasn't initially that bothered by the spell. I thought the episode spent a little too much visual time on it (there was one recurring shot in particular, of a girl batting in a softball game - please, just hit the damned ball already!), but in general it seemed a fairly ingenious solution to the hordes of demons the Scooby Gang was facing. What bothered me came later, when a friend told me that Joss Whedon had explained that the spell was supposed to symbolize the final step in Buffy's journey to adulthood - the realization that she is not the only Chosen One, simply one of many, and that her life, no matter how heroic and dramatic, is not the center of the universe.
Which, let's face it, is hugely depressing. The idea that the final step to growing up is, essentially, realizing that you just aren't all that special, horrifies me. I agree that the life-or-death self-centeredness that is the hallmark of adolescence must eventually give way to a more nuanced and inclusive view of the world, of course. And I do occasionally marvel at how little time I spent thinking of others as a teenager. But that ending still seems to take it a step too far. Because if you're not the star of your own life - if you don't get to be the Slayer or the Princess or the Jedi Knight - then you're just a number, living out your tiny life alongside the billions of other tiny lives, lost forever in the vastness of the universe. If that's adulthood, I decline.
But what got me thinking about this was the endless go-round of everyday adulthood. The constant cycle of bill paying and grocery shopping and laundry and everything else. Especially lately, as I've had to deal with getting slightly older on all fronts: socially, where many of my friends are getting married and one pair even managed to buy a house; financially, where I've discovered that saving for retirement is what you get to look forward to even before you've paid off your student loans; and biologically, where I'm having to start taking into account things like maybe I should start wearing sunscreen every day if I don't want to look like my grandmother by the time I'm forty. Which is all pretty depressing in its own right. And I got to thinking that maybe Joss was right after all, that you do grow up and settle down and settle for what you've got.
So I was depressed by my tiny life and the tiny events that could eventually be expected to parade through it (if I could ever scrape together the funds to finance any of them): wedding, house purchase, children, vacations, etc. Until, thankfully, I remembered something that happened on another Joss Whedon show, when Angel had an epiphany.
"If there is no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters... then all that matters is what we do. Cause that's all there is. What we do, now, today."
Angel, Epiphany (2:16)
Angel was both an adult and a hero, and this sounds like a pretty good philosophy to me. What you do every day matters, at least to you and the people around you. It matters a lot, in fact, even if all you do is all you can do in your tiny life, even if you're not a Slayer or a vampire or a Jedi Knight. And if that doesn't make you the hero of your own story, then I don't know what does.
I grew up with Buffy - went to high school in Southern California the same years she did and graduated college a week before the final episode aired. But it looks like I can't follow her to adulthood (a metaphor which actually works really well, as her story continues in comic book form, which I don't read as I can't seem to connect to the medium). I've graduated to Angel instead. Guess now I know why I moved to Los Angeles.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Dressing Up for Grown-Ups
Buffy: It's come as you aren't night. The perfect chance for a girl to get sexy and wild with no repercussions.
Willow: Oh, I don't get wild. Wild on me equals spaz.
Buffy: Don't underestimate yourself. You've got it in you.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer 2:6, "Halloween"
They're talking about Halloween, of course, but I've always found that little exchange to be a pretty good summation of why adults put on costumes. Or at least, why I do. Come-as-you-aren't night - doesn't it sound wonderful? A chance to be a princess or an elf or a superhero, or your favorite character from television or the movies. More importantly, a chance to be somebody besides who you have to be every other day.
It's not that being me sucks so much, really. I've got great friends and good family and fun hobbies and gadgets. But I work in a cubicle in an office, Monday through Friday every week, and I go home to my sweet, stable boyfriend of almost three years. On holidays I visit my normal, still-married parents. It's a good deal: believe me, I know it. But it's hardly epic, you know?
And for the most part, that's how I like it. Epic is more often than not a synonym for tragic, and as Chris Rock puts it, the only exciting relationships are the bad ones. I tried being sexy and wild once for a couple of months, and I admit, parts of it were fun - but a lot of it seemed to consist of being broke and hungover. Plus, as much as I always wanted to be Buffy, I have to side with Willow on this one, because I'm pretty sure that wild on me does equal spaz. At least until I've had enough alcohol to relax into it.
So sometimes it's incredibly freeing to be somebody else for a while. Especially when that somebody else comes with a ready-made persona that you'd never be able to pull off in real life. I've been Buffy, Raven, Black Canary, Yvaine from Stardust, Queen Gorgo from 300, Inara from Firefly, and Darla from BtVS. Except for Yvaine (her dress was just so pretty; if only I had a gay pirate stylist!), they're all kick-ass heroines (or villains) - sarcastic and sexy with great wardrobes full of things I could never wear in real life.
Red leather pants just aren't me... except when I'm Buffy. That linen toga/shift thing Queen Gorgo wears requires more social courage than I possess (and some double-sided tape). But I pulled it off all day at Comic-Con. Because when I wear the costume, I get to channel the character, and that's a thrill I don't get every day.
So look for me at the next masquerade ball, and on the convention floor at Comic-Con. I'll be the girl with the attitude and the leather corset.
Willow: Oh, I don't get wild. Wild on me equals spaz.
Buffy: Don't underestimate yourself. You've got it in you.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer 2:6, "Halloween"
They're talking about Halloween, of course, but I've always found that little exchange to be a pretty good summation of why adults put on costumes. Or at least, why I do. Come-as-you-aren't night - doesn't it sound wonderful? A chance to be a princess or an elf or a superhero, or your favorite character from television or the movies. More importantly, a chance to be somebody besides who you have to be every other day.
It's not that being me sucks so much, really. I've got great friends and good family and fun hobbies and gadgets. But I work in a cubicle in an office, Monday through Friday every week, and I go home to my sweet, stable boyfriend of almost three years. On holidays I visit my normal, still-married parents. It's a good deal: believe me, I know it. But it's hardly epic, you know?
And for the most part, that's how I like it. Epic is more often than not a synonym for tragic, and as Chris Rock puts it, the only exciting relationships are the bad ones. I tried being sexy and wild once for a couple of months, and I admit, parts of it were fun - but a lot of it seemed to consist of being broke and hungover. Plus, as much as I always wanted to be Buffy, I have to side with Willow on this one, because I'm pretty sure that wild on me does equal spaz. At least until I've had enough alcohol to relax into it.
So sometimes it's incredibly freeing to be somebody else for a while. Especially when that somebody else comes with a ready-made persona that you'd never be able to pull off in real life. I've been Buffy, Raven, Black Canary, Yvaine from Stardust, Queen Gorgo from 300, Inara from Firefly, and Darla from BtVS. Except for Yvaine (her dress was just so pretty; if only I had a gay pirate stylist!), they're all kick-ass heroines (or villains) - sarcastic and sexy with great wardrobes full of things I could never wear in real life.
Red leather pants just aren't me... except when I'm Buffy. That linen toga/shift thing Queen Gorgo wears requires more social courage than I possess (and some double-sided tape). But I pulled it off all day at Comic-Con. Because when I wear the costume, I get to channel the character, and that's a thrill I don't get every day.
So look for me at the next masquerade ball, and on the convention floor at Comic-Con. I'll be the girl with the attitude and the leather corset.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Why BSG is (currently) the best show on television
So I've just watched the last episode of the first half of the final Battlestar Galactica season, and it was amazing. For anyone who hasn't seen it yet (4:10, Revelations), I won't include any spoilers here. I just want to take a moment to appreciate the many wonderful things about this intelligent, superlative show.
For the many people who mistakenly believe that a "genre" show is somehow lesser than a reality-based narrative, I'd like to point out that this show is built around a series of core questions that are deeper and more insoluble than any brought up by Law and Order or ER. The nature of humanity - always a slippery definition - becomes even more so when faced with a species that looks, feels, and bleeds as we do, yet is somehow separate. The Cylons, in their endless struggle to understand humans, force the humans to try to understand themselves. And while the first question is seemingly obvious: what constitutes humanity? The second question is definitely not: can you choose to be human? And the third is even more unsettling: can you choose NOT to be?
The answer to the latter questions seems, so far, to be in the affirmative. Cylon characters have made sacrifices as wrenching as any of the humans; humans have betrayed their own as they have been doing for centuries, in times and places when literally everything was at stake. Many of the characters have acknowledged this, while others refuse to face it, clinging to their own in the face of all evidence and opposition. The parallels with America's current situation in the global community are obvious, but the implications go beyond that. If peace broke out everywhere tomorrow, it wouldn't last precisely because we haven't answered these questions.
It's true that Battlestar Galactica is set far in the future, in a time of routine faster-than-light space travel and ship-mounted energy weapons. But nowadays that seems hardly more fanciful than The West Wing's benevolent, responsible Bartlet Administration. The people of the Colonial Fleet may live in more extreme conditions than the average American, but they have the same range of choices. Violence vs. peace. Trust vs. betrayal. Self-interest vs. the greater good. The choices they make are sometimes right, and sometimes not, but perhaps that, too, is an indicator of humanity.
I'll reserve my accolades for the acting and specific accomplishments in writing for another post, but I will say that I have more in common with Dee or Cally or Tory any day of the week than I ever had with Carrie Bradshaw or Meadow Soprano. And I'm proud of that, not just as a Geek Girl, but as a human being.
I think that the main reason most people dismiss "genre" shows is a failure of imagination. After all, anyone who thinks Farmer Needs A Wife and The Bachelorette are reality-based is clearly incapable of separating fantasy and reality. And we should all feel sorry for them.
For the many people who mistakenly believe that a "genre" show is somehow lesser than a reality-based narrative, I'd like to point out that this show is built around a series of core questions that are deeper and more insoluble than any brought up by Law and Order or ER. The nature of humanity - always a slippery definition - becomes even more so when faced with a species that looks, feels, and bleeds as we do, yet is somehow separate. The Cylons, in their endless struggle to understand humans, force the humans to try to understand themselves. And while the first question is seemingly obvious: what constitutes humanity? The second question is definitely not: can you choose to be human? And the third is even more unsettling: can you choose NOT to be?
The answer to the latter questions seems, so far, to be in the affirmative. Cylon characters have made sacrifices as wrenching as any of the humans; humans have betrayed their own as they have been doing for centuries, in times and places when literally everything was at stake. Many of the characters have acknowledged this, while others refuse to face it, clinging to their own in the face of all evidence and opposition. The parallels with America's current situation in the global community are obvious, but the implications go beyond that. If peace broke out everywhere tomorrow, it wouldn't last precisely because we haven't answered these questions.
It's true that Battlestar Galactica is set far in the future, in a time of routine faster-than-light space travel and ship-mounted energy weapons. But nowadays that seems hardly more fanciful than The West Wing's benevolent, responsible Bartlet Administration. The people of the Colonial Fleet may live in more extreme conditions than the average American, but they have the same range of choices. Violence vs. peace. Trust vs. betrayal. Self-interest vs. the greater good. The choices they make are sometimes right, and sometimes not, but perhaps that, too, is an indicator of humanity.
I'll reserve my accolades for the acting and specific accomplishments in writing for another post, but I will say that I have more in common with Dee or Cally or Tory any day of the week than I ever had with Carrie Bradshaw or Meadow Soprano. And I'm proud of that, not just as a Geek Girl, but as a human being.
I think that the main reason most people dismiss "genre" shows is a failure of imagination. After all, anyone who thinks Farmer Needs A Wife and The Bachelorette are reality-based is clearly incapable of separating fantasy and reality. And we should all feel sorry for them.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
A (Gentle) Note on Geek Hygiene
I love geek guys. That's not to say that my head isn't turned by the occasional golden boy jock or exotic Persian man's man, but for the most part the guys I hang out with, the guys I date, are geeks. They can discuss the difference between DC and Marvel for hours, find immediate common ground on the Evil Dead movies, and advise me on all the finer points of Magic: The Gathering strategy.
This, of course, has its ups and its downs. While it means that I spend lazy Saturdays with the Sci-Fi channel playing atrocious, so-bad-they're-still-not-good-but-damn-they're-funny movies in the background instead of being forced to watch sports or endless repetitions of the same news on MSNBC, it also means that I am responsible for dressing everyone in the house for occasions requiring anything more formal than a Thundercats T-shirt. It means that I always have someone to play Mario Kart with, but that if I want to go dancing I'm on my own. In general, though, geek guys make good boyfriends. For the most part, they tend to be caring, attentive, funny, smart guys without a lot of ego (except when it comes to their Halo achievements and Warcraft levels, of course). Which is what makes it sad that such a large percentage of them don't have girlfriends to share their geekdom with.
It's a stereotype that geeks are pasty, overweight guys with greasy hair and a certain - less than pleasant - smell. This has been referred to gently, as well as more bluntly, on numerous blogs and even the official Comic-Con website. Sadly, as a longtime veteran of Comic-Con, I can attest to the fact that it's true oftener than I'd like. Every year, thousands of geeks converge into some very small (but extremely well air-conditioned) rooms, and as you sit in those rooms, you do notice an aroma that owes less to aftershave and deodorant than it does to sweat and stale food.
So this year, I'm making a plea to all the lonely geeks out there. Comic-Con is an endurance game, and it's unrealistic to expect that you won't sweat, or that anyone has time to run back to their hotel room and brush their teeth after meals. But please, please, please. Shower every morning (and depending on your sweat glands, possibly also every night). Put on deodorant - lots of it. (You can skip the aftershave and cologne, unless you already have a favorite scent you didn't buy at the drugstore. The last thing anyone needs is two thousand geeks in Ballroom 20 all wearing Axe body spray. The panelists would all pass out.) Bring along some breath mints, and pop one every time you even think you might be less than fresh. Honestly, guys. Don't do it for me; do it for yourselves.
Let me tell you why.
Because besides being a gathering place for comic book dealers, artists, artisans, writers, actors, and Hollywood stars, Comic-Con has what is probably the largest concentration of girls who love geeks in the entire world. And many of them are hot. This is the one place where you can pick up a girl by quoting a movie based on a video game. That babe in the chainmail would probably welcome a conversation about Warcraft. The one in the ripped neon tights and purple fairy wings almost certainly knows a lot about anime. And these girls are used to geeks in their natural habitat. They understand that a brand-new Twilight Princess t-shirt with the triforce symbol picked out in gold foil contstitutes business casual for you. They're okay with that.
And they're on vacation! While Girls Gone Wild is another unflattering stereotype, it too has its grain of truth. Hot girls away from home, on vacation, do things (and people) they might not usually consider. You could be one of those things.
The bottom line is that with very minimal effort on your part, you could drastically increase your chance of finding a girl who enjoys dressing up as your favorite superheroine/elf/Star Wars character. In bed.
Think about it.
This, of course, has its ups and its downs. While it means that I spend lazy Saturdays with the Sci-Fi channel playing atrocious, so-bad-they're-still-not-good-but-damn-they're-funny movies in the background instead of being forced to watch sports or endless repetitions of the same news on MSNBC, it also means that I am responsible for dressing everyone in the house for occasions requiring anything more formal than a Thundercats T-shirt. It means that I always have someone to play Mario Kart with, but that if I want to go dancing I'm on my own. In general, though, geek guys make good boyfriends. For the most part, they tend to be caring, attentive, funny, smart guys without a lot of ego (except when it comes to their Halo achievements and Warcraft levels, of course). Which is what makes it sad that such a large percentage of them don't have girlfriends to share their geekdom with.
It's a stereotype that geeks are pasty, overweight guys with greasy hair and a certain - less than pleasant - smell. This has been referred to gently, as well as more bluntly, on numerous blogs and even the official Comic-Con website. Sadly, as a longtime veteran of Comic-Con, I can attest to the fact that it's true oftener than I'd like. Every year, thousands of geeks converge into some very small (but extremely well air-conditioned) rooms, and as you sit in those rooms, you do notice an aroma that owes less to aftershave and deodorant than it does to sweat and stale food.
So this year, I'm making a plea to all the lonely geeks out there. Comic-Con is an endurance game, and it's unrealistic to expect that you won't sweat, or that anyone has time to run back to their hotel room and brush their teeth after meals. But please, please, please. Shower every morning (and depending on your sweat glands, possibly also every night). Put on deodorant - lots of it. (You can skip the aftershave and cologne, unless you already have a favorite scent you didn't buy at the drugstore. The last thing anyone needs is two thousand geeks in Ballroom 20 all wearing Axe body spray. The panelists would all pass out.) Bring along some breath mints, and pop one every time you even think you might be less than fresh. Honestly, guys. Don't do it for me; do it for yourselves.
Let me tell you why.
Because besides being a gathering place for comic book dealers, artists, artisans, writers, actors, and Hollywood stars, Comic-Con has what is probably the largest concentration of girls who love geeks in the entire world. And many of them are hot. This is the one place where you can pick up a girl by quoting a movie based on a video game. That babe in the chainmail would probably welcome a conversation about Warcraft. The one in the ripped neon tights and purple fairy wings almost certainly knows a lot about anime. And these girls are used to geeks in their natural habitat. They understand that a brand-new Twilight Princess t-shirt with the triforce symbol picked out in gold foil contstitutes business casual for you. They're okay with that.
And they're on vacation! While Girls Gone Wild is another unflattering stereotype, it too has its grain of truth. Hot girls away from home, on vacation, do things (and people) they might not usually consider. You could be one of those things.
The bottom line is that with very minimal effort on your part, you could drastically increase your chance of finding a girl who enjoys dressing up as your favorite superheroine/elf/Star Wars character. In bed.
Think about it.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Boots, boots, everywhere, but never the ones I need
Compared to my non-geek friends, I'm really not that into shoes. Admittedly, I probably have 30 or 35 pairs of them, but that stems more from my pathological inability to throw away things that might someday be useful for a costume than it does from any great love of shoes. (I'm not joking: just last weekend I salvaged an atrocious linen jacket from my mom's castoffs and stuck it in my boyfriend's closet, just in case someone we know ever happens to throw a Miami Vice themed party.) So I believe that my shoe collection is quite moderate, considering.
But I do, at last count, own eight pairs of boots. I ordered another pair online just now, which will bring the total to nine. The problem is that no matter how many I acquire, I never seem to have quite the style required to imitate the character I'm creating a costume of. Take the first pair, for instance. Knee-high black leather with a side zip and three-inch chunky heels, I begged my mom for them when I was seventeen and desperate to be Buffy. (If memory serves, I used to wear them with a black mini and a spaghetti-strap tank top with appliqued butterflies. Shudder.) The next two pairs didn't actually have a lot to do with costuming - apparently at nineteen I though pain was sexy. There's certainly no other excuse for the stiletto-heeled torture chambers I bought (in black leather and camel suede both, just to cover all possible outfits). But I still have them, just in case. Next came knee-high slouchy brown suede boots with stacked heels, then Italian leather boots in a rich chocolate that were secondhand and impossible to resist. Then last year I decided to dress up as Raven from Teen Titans at Comic-Con, which required low-heeled ankle boots that I found at Hot Topic. And then I found a perfect pair of Resident Evil Alice boots and decided to make a costume to go with them. The last pair (before today) were tall black leather creations wrapped in more scraps of black leather and studded. I don't know what they're for, but it's probably post-apocalyptic. Does Daryl Hannah wear boots in Blade Runner?
Despite this seemingly comprehensive collection, I still end up needing a new pair for almost every kick-ass heroine I want to dress up as. I did use the Buffy boots to be Black Canary two Halloweens ago, but that costume was basically a cop-out. (If you want to try it, all you need is boots, fishnets, a good black swimsuit, and a bolero. True, only hardcore DC fans will know who you are, but everyone will be impressed by your willingness to walk around in the outfit I've just described.) All of my other boots have yet to be reused for costume purposes.
The lack of versatility would bother me less if it wasn't for one thing: men. My boyfriend owns two pairs of boots: one black leather and medieval-style, the other brown suede and Indian-style. With just those boots, he's been Tybalt from Romeo and Juliet, an evil pirate named Rodrigo, a noble (generic) cavalier, a random masked warrior, an elemental Earth spirit, and Madmartigan from Willow. The only reason he's considering a new pair is that the sole is coming off one of the black ones, and electrical tape can only get you so far.
But today I started working on my American McGee's Alice costume, and as I looked at the images pulled up on Google, I realized with a sinking heart that her boots lace or buckle all the way up to the knee. All of mine are either too short, or zip-fastened. Pair number nine, here I come. Let's just hope I can hold off on number ten until I throw that party for the last episode of Battlestar Galactica.
Until then, I'll be working on my wig collection.
But I do, at last count, own eight pairs of boots. I ordered another pair online just now, which will bring the total to nine. The problem is that no matter how many I acquire, I never seem to have quite the style required to imitate the character I'm creating a costume of. Take the first pair, for instance. Knee-high black leather with a side zip and three-inch chunky heels, I begged my mom for them when I was seventeen and desperate to be Buffy. (If memory serves, I used to wear them with a black mini and a spaghetti-strap tank top with appliqued butterflies. Shudder.) The next two pairs didn't actually have a lot to do with costuming - apparently at nineteen I though pain was sexy. There's certainly no other excuse for the stiletto-heeled torture chambers I bought (in black leather and camel suede both, just to cover all possible outfits). But I still have them, just in case. Next came knee-high slouchy brown suede boots with stacked heels, then Italian leather boots in a rich chocolate that were secondhand and impossible to resist. Then last year I decided to dress up as Raven from Teen Titans at Comic-Con, which required low-heeled ankle boots that I found at Hot Topic. And then I found a perfect pair of Resident Evil Alice boots and decided to make a costume to go with them. The last pair (before today) were tall black leather creations wrapped in more scraps of black leather and studded. I don't know what they're for, but it's probably post-apocalyptic. Does Daryl Hannah wear boots in Blade Runner?
Despite this seemingly comprehensive collection, I still end up needing a new pair for almost every kick-ass heroine I want to dress up as. I did use the Buffy boots to be Black Canary two Halloweens ago, but that costume was basically a cop-out. (If you want to try it, all you need is boots, fishnets, a good black swimsuit, and a bolero. True, only hardcore DC fans will know who you are, but everyone will be impressed by your willingness to walk around in the outfit I've just described.) All of my other boots have yet to be reused for costume purposes.
The lack of versatility would bother me less if it wasn't for one thing: men. My boyfriend owns two pairs of boots: one black leather and medieval-style, the other brown suede and Indian-style. With just those boots, he's been Tybalt from Romeo and Juliet, an evil pirate named Rodrigo, a noble (generic) cavalier, a random masked warrior, an elemental Earth spirit, and Madmartigan from Willow. The only reason he's considering a new pair is that the sole is coming off one of the black ones, and electrical tape can only get you so far.
But today I started working on my American McGee's Alice costume, and as I looked at the images pulled up on Google, I realized with a sinking heart that her boots lace or buckle all the way up to the knee. All of mine are either too short, or zip-fastened. Pair number nine, here I come. Let's just hope I can hold off on number ten until I throw that party for the last episode of Battlestar Galactica.
Until then, I'll be working on my wig collection.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Tribulations of a Semi-Geek Girl
Or, why guys I’d never sleep with tell me I’m the perfect woman.
Seriously. It happened for the second time on Saturday night, when I was somewhat inebriated at a friend’s party, and when I sobered up Sunday I had to wonder what kind of things that said about me. It’s not like I don’t know why he said it – and before you judge, it’s not because I’m ridiculously hot. I figure most days I’m anywhere between a six and an eight on a scale of ten, and I’m pretty sure that drops all the way down to three or so when I’m sick or you know, really not trying. But anyway, I’m probably cute enough, depending on your particular preferences. Since I live in L.A., slightly-prettier-than-average doesn't usually get me too far.
But the reason my friend’s semi-harmless new subletter called me the perfect woman was only about fifty percent based on my appearance. (I hope; obviously, I can’t read his mind, and my blouse was semi-sheer that night.) It was mostly because I’m a Geek Girl.
Now, I’m hardly the poster girl for the category: I’m only an indifferent gamer and my knowledge of anime is nearly nonexistent. But I can nevertheless discuss the finer points of the Xbox 360, PS3, Wii, and DS, kick some koopa butt at Mario Kart Wii, and reel off some of the incredibly complicated plots of the Metal Gear Solid franchise. I was in fact kicking butt at Mario Kart and discussing the relative merits of Rock Band on the different platforms simultaneously when he hung the epithet on me. (This multi-tasking undoubtedly seemed more impressive at the time, as the rest of the party was several drinks ahead of me.)
So anyway, I happened to mention that I was considering blowing my entire economic stimulus payment on an Xbox 360 and Rock Band package, and he suddenly looked both amused and raptly interested. I shrugged off both as I went on to win the kart race. After everyone gave up on video games to concentrate on more serious drinking, he continued to follow me around telling me how pretty I was and asking for my number despite the umpteen times I'd mentioned my boyfriend. (If that sounds endearing, it wasn't - I'm pretty sure that without alcohol it would have been beyond irritating.) Eventually I ditched him, called my boyfriend for a ride, and went home.
But the next morning I remembered him, looking goofy and vaguely mulish, saying, "Wow. You might just be the perfect woman." Leaving aside the relative laxity of his standards (he'd known me for all of twenty-five minutes at that point), I was struck by it because nearly the exact same thing had happened to me a couple of years before, when I picked up on a Venture Bros. reference dropped into conversation by the assistant manager at the bookstore I worked for. (He might actually have thought I was perfect for him; unfortunately, his pop culture qualifications were the most attractive thing about him. I ran into him last year at Comic-Con, setting out water for a panel that included Joss Whedon, and for a moment almost wished I'd dated him so he could introduce me.)
It seems that enjoying comic books, science fiction, video games, and being a reasonably attractive (or possibly just recognizably female) girl will get you your pick of a wide swath of geeks these days. Which is not a bad thing, of course. I love geeks (disclaimer: I live with one), and I'm happy to say that they're coming up in the world. Movie studios and television networks seem to finally be catching on to the fact that geeks are people too - better yet, they tend to be college-educated, literate people. Or, as media executives see it, people with disposable income.
But for the moment, Geek Girls still seem to be a rare and almost mythical breed, widely rumored but rarely seen in person. Several of my friends still shudder at being called "science fiction fans", and the rest would still rather go bar hopping than spend a long evening playing D&D. I'm afraid that this scarcity won't last, though - every year I see more girls at Comic-Con, and shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the new Battlestar Galactica are steadily reeling in new female fans. All I can say is, enjoy it while it lasts, Geek Girls. Soon, just wandering into a comic book store and striking up a conversation about the latest Uncanny X-Men won't be enough to get you a date.
Wearing those thigh-high leather boots might help, though.
Seriously. It happened for the second time on Saturday night, when I was somewhat inebriated at a friend’s party, and when I sobered up Sunday I had to wonder what kind of things that said about me. It’s not like I don’t know why he said it – and before you judge, it’s not because I’m ridiculously hot. I figure most days I’m anywhere between a six and an eight on a scale of ten, and I’m pretty sure that drops all the way down to three or so when I’m sick or you know, really not trying. But anyway, I’m probably cute enough, depending on your particular preferences. Since I live in L.A., slightly-prettier-than-average doesn't usually get me too far.
But the reason my friend’s semi-harmless new subletter called me the perfect woman was only about fifty percent based on my appearance. (I hope; obviously, I can’t read his mind, and my blouse was semi-sheer that night.) It was mostly because I’m a Geek Girl.
Now, I’m hardly the poster girl for the category: I’m only an indifferent gamer and my knowledge of anime is nearly nonexistent. But I can nevertheless discuss the finer points of the Xbox 360, PS3, Wii, and DS, kick some koopa butt at Mario Kart Wii, and reel off some of the incredibly complicated plots of the Metal Gear Solid franchise. I was in fact kicking butt at Mario Kart and discussing the relative merits of Rock Band on the different platforms simultaneously when he hung the epithet on me. (This multi-tasking undoubtedly seemed more impressive at the time, as the rest of the party was several drinks ahead of me.)
So anyway, I happened to mention that I was considering blowing my entire economic stimulus payment on an Xbox 360 and Rock Band package, and he suddenly looked both amused and raptly interested. I shrugged off both as I went on to win the kart race. After everyone gave up on video games to concentrate on more serious drinking, he continued to follow me around telling me how pretty I was and asking for my number despite the umpteen times I'd mentioned my boyfriend. (If that sounds endearing, it wasn't - I'm pretty sure that without alcohol it would have been beyond irritating.) Eventually I ditched him, called my boyfriend for a ride, and went home.
But the next morning I remembered him, looking goofy and vaguely mulish, saying, "Wow. You might just be the perfect woman." Leaving aside the relative laxity of his standards (he'd known me for all of twenty-five minutes at that point), I was struck by it because nearly the exact same thing had happened to me a couple of years before, when I picked up on a Venture Bros. reference dropped into conversation by the assistant manager at the bookstore I worked for. (He might actually have thought I was perfect for him; unfortunately, his pop culture qualifications were the most attractive thing about him. I ran into him last year at Comic-Con, setting out water for a panel that included Joss Whedon, and for a moment almost wished I'd dated him so he could introduce me.)
It seems that enjoying comic books, science fiction, video games, and being a reasonably attractive (or possibly just recognizably female) girl will get you your pick of a wide swath of geeks these days. Which is not a bad thing, of course. I love geeks (disclaimer: I live with one), and I'm happy to say that they're coming up in the world. Movie studios and television networks seem to finally be catching on to the fact that geeks are people too - better yet, they tend to be college-educated, literate people. Or, as media executives see it, people with disposable income.
But for the moment, Geek Girls still seem to be a rare and almost mythical breed, widely rumored but rarely seen in person. Several of my friends still shudder at being called "science fiction fans", and the rest would still rather go bar hopping than spend a long evening playing D&D. I'm afraid that this scarcity won't last, though - every year I see more girls at Comic-Con, and shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the new Battlestar Galactica are steadily reeling in new female fans. All I can say is, enjoy it while it lasts, Geek Girls. Soon, just wandering into a comic book store and striking up a conversation about the latest Uncanny X-Men won't be enough to get you a date.
Wearing those thigh-high leather boots might help, though.
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