Well, hell. I went and got old.
I'm not entirely sure how this happened. I tried to stop it. I tried eating right, exercising. I meditated on being young. I thought young thoughts. I watched the Twilight movies.
None of it helped. And now I'll never get those hours back.
Here it is. 30.
I'm older. But am I wiser? Better? Happier?
Yeah, I think I am.
Now more than ever, I have a better idea of who I am and what I want out of life. I'm blissfully happy in my marriage. I have the most amazing family I can imagine. I have friends I don't want to ever be without. I am working on a novel I think I can truly be proud of, and every day I make more progress on it.
And I have nothing but hope for the future.
I'm ready to start the next chapter in my family life, building a life for me, my husband, and our (hopefully) future children. I'm ready to take the next step in my writing by diving into much more ambitious freelancing opportunities while concentrating on my own writing projects including a set of e-books, magazine articles, and, of course, my novels. I'm finding new ways to improve my health by eating better, working out, and generally taking care of myself. And I am doing best to enjoy every minute of every day.
So, yeah. I might be older, but I don't know if that's a bad thing. In fact, it might be one of the best things.
Here's to another year. Here's to more learning, more growing, more loving, more laughing, and more living.
Cheers.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
RuPaul's Drag Race
Recently I was introduced to an amazing show called RuPaul's Drag Race. It features famous drag queen RuPaul and her search for the next drag superstar. A group of drag performers compete against one another with dancing, acting, costume making, character building, and lip syncing, attempting to outperform each other for a chance at the crown.
And oh my goodness! There's so much talent, comedy, and subculture insight in every single moment of this show. The queens featured on the show mug and preen and provide so much entertainment, I can hardly look away.
The last few weeks, though, I have been living for one of my best friends' blog recaps. She puts together screenshots, GIFs, and videos that sum up everything you could want to know about the show. If you like drag, camp, witty commentary, hilarious GIFs, or just pure entertainment, I encourage you to check out the Dilettwat's blog: http://dilettwat.typepad.com/.
And oh my goodness! There's so much talent, comedy, and subculture insight in every single moment of this show. The queens featured on the show mug and preen and provide so much entertainment, I can hardly look away.
The last few weeks, though, I have been living for one of my best friends' blog recaps. She puts together screenshots, GIFs, and videos that sum up everything you could want to know about the show. If you like drag, camp, witty commentary, hilarious GIFs, or just pure entertainment, I encourage you to check out the Dilettwat's blog: http://dilettwat.typepad.com/.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
An Amazing Teacher: Randy Lynn
The most important message I received in high school was the one that I was most prepared to reject. The message came from an overly enthusiastic, impossibly uncool teacher who knew way too much--and more importantly, cared way too much-- about his subject matter.
His message is one of three messages I've kept with me.
"If anyone is going to change things, you are."
When I was in high school, I knew there was only one subject I wanted to pursue for the rest of my life. I loved literature, and I was going to be a writer. I took every English and literature class offered including honors courses and Advanced Placement courses throughout my high school career.
The thing is, though, they don't let you get away with only taking language and literature classes for your entire career. It turns out, you have to take other subjects to get a wide selection of experiences before you commit to a career. You have to take science, math, physical education, and even history and political science before they let you graduate with a full degree.
As I was moving into my senior year at Harrison High School, I was through with the other classes. I had taken science, math, history, and everything else. I'd taken advanced placement versions of everything so that by the time I reached my last year of required schooling I didn't have to take anything I didn't want to.
So I signed up for nothing but English and Chorus classes. Sadly, there were only two of each offered at my level each semester. Since I had block scheduling and had finished most of my other requirements, that meant I had a few choices. Each semester I could take two classes outside of English and Chorus to round out my senior experience. My first semester, I choice AP Government, and AP Physics.
Physics worked for me because I was already marginally interested in science fiction, and, frankly, the background has helped me immensely. I was interested in government because it was an election year. My senior year of high school occurred during the incredibly 2000 election.
So I signed up for the class, thinking nothing of it.
The class changed my life.
Every previous class in government or history had presented the facts and even made them interesting to me. Only Mr. Lynn made me feel like government was something I could touch with my actions. He made government real, tangible, and changeable. For him, an election year meant not just completing one's civic duty, not just having a single voice, not just filling out a ballot.
Participating in an election meant being a part of history. It meant being an American. It meant having the power to affect everything that would effect our lives.
I didn't vote in 2000. I was only 17. Legally, I wasn't allowed to.
But Mr. Lynn filled me with a desire to make my voice heard. He let me know that being a citizen means having a responsibility to the people around me. Having a vote meant more than being a person. It meant that I was a citizen. I had a voice. I had a duty to my neighbors.
I couldn't WAIT to vote in the midterm elections in 2002.
Every year since then, I have voted. I have voted in every presidential election, every congressional election, and even most midterm state elections. I even vote in runoffs, local jurisdictions, judgeships, local referenda, and utilities agreements. (I think I've missed 8 elections in the past 12 years over two states, which means I vote 4-5 times a year, every year.)
What's more, is because of Mr Lynn's influence, I pursued a degree in political science. When I got to college, I was still convinced I'd be a writer. I took several English classes along with my core classes and imagined that words alone were enough. But when I was confronted by empty holes in my schedule, I signed up for classes in politics.
At Berry, I found that Mr Lynn had only begun to prepare me for a love of the political process.
In college I discovered that politics was a slippery snake, with facts and fictions as slippery as myths, and foundational ideas that tried to redefine the world. Still, the truths with which Mr Lynn had armed me, the scaffolding of our Constitution, the cornerstones of our ideals, and the eternal truths of our ethical heritage stuck with me.
I graduated with a degree in government and philosophy and continued on to a Masters in Political Theory and Philosophy at the University at Virginia, though I stopped just short of a Doctorate.
The man's passion stuck with me.
Even after I spent some eight years in school studying and exploring the concepts of political science, I couldn't leave well enough alone.
By the time I graduated grad school, I hated politics. You don't even know the depths to which political entities will sink to get reelected/win subsidies/win votes in committee/receive free lunches. Politics is so disgusting, and I've seen so much of it first hand.
And every time I tried to get away from it, I heard Mr Lynn's optimism. "If anyone is going to change things, you are."
Dammit, that's too much to lay on a high schooler.
But it's the biggest truth anyone ever laid on me in those days.
And I've followed it.
Through college. Through political internships in DC. Through work with think tanks in DC. Through political work in DC. Through graduate school.
I have even participated in the legislative and judicial processes. I have worked on a few campaigns including serving as a campaign manager for a US congressional campaign and as a social media manager for a judicial candidate. I lost one, but I won the other. I've affected politics at the national, at the state, and at the local levels.
And I'm not going to ever give up.
I may be more focused on my own writing (See, I told you I'd be a writer!), but I have no doubt about Mr. Lynn's words. If anyone is going to change things, I am.
I only had three high school teachers that affected me this way. Mr Randall Lynn, Ed Deavers, and Anita Hanson.
Ed Deavers taught me that dedication, passion, creativity, and grace in the face of defeat mean more than any easy wins. He taught me that I have to take risks and put myself on the line to succeed, and that the more risks I take, and even the more times I fail, the more likely it is that I will survive.
Anita Hanson taught me pure, practiced, and developed expression can change the world. That honesty and creativity take sacrifice, and that true dedication to art will render beauty. Her words, her encouragement have made me the write I am today.
But it's Mr. Lynn that gave me something to write about.
Randy Lynn taught me that every revolution, every movement, every moment of growth starts with a single person. It takes dedication, it takes passion, it takes conviction, but it is possible to change the world if you care enough. If this world is ever going to change, then it starts with me.
Thank you Mr Lynn for teaching me that. My only regret is I didn't get to tell you how much you taught me.
His message is one of three messages I've kept with me.
"If anyone is going to change things, you are."
When I was in high school, I knew there was only one subject I wanted to pursue for the rest of my life. I loved literature, and I was going to be a writer. I took every English and literature class offered including honors courses and Advanced Placement courses throughout my high school career.
The thing is, though, they don't let you get away with only taking language and literature classes for your entire career. It turns out, you have to take other subjects to get a wide selection of experiences before you commit to a career. You have to take science, math, physical education, and even history and political science before they let you graduate with a full degree.
As I was moving into my senior year at Harrison High School, I was through with the other classes. I had taken science, math, history, and everything else. I'd taken advanced placement versions of everything so that by the time I reached my last year of required schooling I didn't have to take anything I didn't want to.
So I signed up for nothing but English and Chorus classes. Sadly, there were only two of each offered at my level each semester. Since I had block scheduling and had finished most of my other requirements, that meant I had a few choices. Each semester I could take two classes outside of English and Chorus to round out my senior experience. My first semester, I choice AP Government, and AP Physics.
Physics worked for me because I was already marginally interested in science fiction, and, frankly, the background has helped me immensely. I was interested in government because it was an election year. My senior year of high school occurred during the incredibly 2000 election.
So I signed up for the class, thinking nothing of it.
The class changed my life.
Every previous class in government or history had presented the facts and even made them interesting to me. Only Mr. Lynn made me feel like government was something I could touch with my actions. He made government real, tangible, and changeable. For him, an election year meant not just completing one's civic duty, not just having a single voice, not just filling out a ballot.
Participating in an election meant being a part of history. It meant being an American. It meant having the power to affect everything that would effect our lives.
I didn't vote in 2000. I was only 17. Legally, I wasn't allowed to.
But Mr. Lynn filled me with a desire to make my voice heard. He let me know that being a citizen means having a responsibility to the people around me. Having a vote meant more than being a person. It meant that I was a citizen. I had a voice. I had a duty to my neighbors.
I couldn't WAIT to vote in the midterm elections in 2002.
Every year since then, I have voted. I have voted in every presidential election, every congressional election, and even most midterm state elections. I even vote in runoffs, local jurisdictions, judgeships, local referenda, and utilities agreements. (I think I've missed 8 elections in the past 12 years over two states, which means I vote 4-5 times a year, every year.)
What's more, is because of Mr Lynn's influence, I pursued a degree in political science. When I got to college, I was still convinced I'd be a writer. I took several English classes along with my core classes and imagined that words alone were enough. But when I was confronted by empty holes in my schedule, I signed up for classes in politics.
At Berry, I found that Mr Lynn had only begun to prepare me for a love of the political process.
In college I discovered that politics was a slippery snake, with facts and fictions as slippery as myths, and foundational ideas that tried to redefine the world. Still, the truths with which Mr Lynn had armed me, the scaffolding of our Constitution, the cornerstones of our ideals, and the eternal truths of our ethical heritage stuck with me.
I graduated with a degree in government and philosophy and continued on to a Masters in Political Theory and Philosophy at the University at Virginia, though I stopped just short of a Doctorate.
The man's passion stuck with me.
Even after I spent some eight years in school studying and exploring the concepts of political science, I couldn't leave well enough alone.
By the time I graduated grad school, I hated politics. You don't even know the depths to which political entities will sink to get reelected/win subsidies/win votes in committee/receive free lunches. Politics is so disgusting, and I've seen so much of it first hand.
And every time I tried to get away from it, I heard Mr Lynn's optimism. "If anyone is going to change things, you are."
Dammit, that's too much to lay on a high schooler.
But it's the biggest truth anyone ever laid on me in those days.
And I've followed it.
Through college. Through political internships in DC. Through work with think tanks in DC. Through political work in DC. Through graduate school.
I have even participated in the legislative and judicial processes. I have worked on a few campaigns including serving as a campaign manager for a US congressional campaign and as a social media manager for a judicial candidate. I lost one, but I won the other. I've affected politics at the national, at the state, and at the local levels.
And I'm not going to ever give up.
I may be more focused on my own writing (See, I told you I'd be a writer!), but I have no doubt about Mr. Lynn's words. If anyone is going to change things, I am.
I only had three high school teachers that affected me this way. Mr Randall Lynn, Ed Deavers, and Anita Hanson.
Ed Deavers taught me that dedication, passion, creativity, and grace in the face of defeat mean more than any easy wins. He taught me that I have to take risks and put myself on the line to succeed, and that the more risks I take, and even the more times I fail, the more likely it is that I will survive.
Anita Hanson taught me pure, practiced, and developed expression can change the world. That honesty and creativity take sacrifice, and that true dedication to art will render beauty. Her words, her encouragement have made me the write I am today.
But it's Mr. Lynn that gave me something to write about.
Randy Lynn taught me that every revolution, every movement, every moment of growth starts with a single person. It takes dedication, it takes passion, it takes conviction, but it is possible to change the world if you care enough. If this world is ever going to change, then it starts with me.
Thank you Mr Lynn for teaching me that. My only regret is I didn't get to tell you how much you taught me.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Figuring Out Gravity
I'm currently working on a science fiction novel as I mentioned here. One of the primary things that one needs to contend with in any science fiction novel is the existence of artificial gravity and propulsion through space.
I know. I know. Everyone else ignores it. And those that don't really mess the whole idea up.
In StarTrek, you have gravity plating on every deck of these massive ships. They use energy currents to produce a stimulating effect on gravitons to pull the crew and objects towards the bottom of the ship. The force can even be fluctuated to increase or decrease the pull. But how do you not have increased pull the higher up the ship you go? Or why are the gravitons only working in a single direction? Doesn't gravity pull objects towards it no matter what direction they are oriented? Why don't things close to the plating at the ceiling feel a pull upwards?
In Defying Gravity you use magnetism in the astronauts spacesuits. While that is extremely likely to be a direction we take the problem of gravity in the near future of space travel, it leaves multiple problems. For instance, is EVERYTHING on the ship magnetized to keep it from flying away? And magnetic hairspray? Ugh. They were lucky I liked the story.
Other stories such as 2001: A Space Odyssey, Ringworld, and Babylon 5 attempt rotation, but that requires HUGE ships that can rarely be docked and certainly cannot travel close to or in the atmospheres of other planets.
Some have even used super dense material such as black holes and acceleration around, toward, or away from them to create the force of gravity.
So I'm struggling with gravity.
The thing is, so is science.
With the completion of the LHC and the discovery of the Higgs
Boson, we are only just beginning to discover the foundational principles of mass.
The Standard Model upon which the existence of the Higgs was predicted does not
even begin to account for theories of gravity, its relationship to mass, and
whether it can be isolated.
In fact, our understanding of gravity is currently limited.
We don’t rightly know if it’s a force, a form of acceleration, or a function of
mass.
Theories exist that express gravity as a force. In these
theories, gravitational forces are similar to the electromagnetic force that
attracts inverse charges in atoms, electrons, quarks, and gluons. We’ve managed
to isolate and explore such forces down to the tiniest levels we have just
discovered, but when it comes to such a force on larger bodies, we are left
clueless.
The idea is that everything that has mass has gravity, and
that is proven. We all exert forces on one another, and just as I am pulled to
the center of the earth, the center of the earth is pulled toward me. The more
massive the object, the more its gravitational pull. That’s why planets have
stronger pulls than moons, stars have stronger pulls than planets, and more
massive stars have even stronger pulls.
The use of mass to produce a field of gravity, then, would
hardly be artificial. It would be actual gravity that could be manipulated by
manipulating mass. You could use (as I suggested in my previous blog) a flow of
energy to stimulate Higgs bosons to generate mass. If enough energy was used,
or the Higgs on certain elements were used to create more massive or denser
particles, one could, given several hundred years of scientific development,
produce enough gravitational force to simulate the acceleration/force of earth’s
pull on the human body.
However, if you introduce gravity in that way, there are some serious problems. If a station generates the same massive gravitational pull as a planet, there's no way the station could be situated anywhere near a planet. Already the pull of the moon seriously affects both people, animals, and natural cycles on this planet. Adding an artificial moon with the gravitational pull of an earth-sized planet would wreak havoc on a planet's eco-system. The stations would have to be established outside of the reach planetary orbits.
There’s also no way
to use it in spacecraft. For one, it would make it very difficult for one
spacecraft to interact with another, such as a docking station. They would have
competing gravity fields, which would make coming into any sort of contact
difficult. Conceivably, the smaller ships could moderate their fields as they
approach planets or stations, but they would be affected by the station's gravity once they got close enough. Their approach would have to be carefully orchestrated to dim their gravity as they approach, and their orientation would have to be based on the station's center of gravity. That would determine the "down" position for the last stages of the flight.
(Of course now that I've typed a lot of that, that would be a great way to establish a principle of gravity. In fact, if I cannot find another way, I may be revisiting this idea!)
In order to generate a form of artificial gravity, one would have to simulate gravity without mass.
One theory is to use linear acceleration. After all, we experience gravity as a form of acceleration. We are pulled toward the earth at 1 standard gravity (1g) or 9.81m/s2. That means that in free fall, we approach the center of the earth with an increase in acceleration of 1g. The only thing that stops us from continuously falling is the physical barrier of the earth.
Conceivably, if you continuously increased a ship's acceleration by 1g for ever with the floor oriented away from your direction of acceleration, your inhabitants would experience earthlike gravity. But as soon as you slowed or, God forbid, stopped your inhabitants would immediately feel it and either begin floating or slam into the ceiling.
So that's out.
What's a science fiction writer to do?
Manipulation of the Higgs could create mass, but we have the problems mentioned above...
Perhaps the problem is I've been thinking of gravity as a force that attracts and pulls. Could I use an alternative force that pushes? Maybe an extrapolated use of the Casimir Effect? It along with an understanding of large mass gravitational force is already forming the basis for my outer-orbit propulsion systems.
Do I go with the very, very limited understanding of gravitons and extrapolate ad nauseum until it looks more like science fiction hand wavium?
HELP!
If you have any ideas, and I know my friends are smart, please help.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Words Matter
Words matter.
I truly believe that. It's one of the principles upon which I live my life. I know that the right words used in the right context can change the world when deployed correctly.
It's just sometimes hard to believe that my words matter.
I find it so easy to neglect my writing. If I'm only writing for myself, or ranting away into an unhearing void, then what obligations can I have to maintain my blog?
I tell myself that no one really cares what I have to say. That my words don't matter yet.
I don't think I can say that anymore.
This morning I received one of the most meaningful emails of my life. A friend and former coworker of mine told me that my words had actually made a difference, that something I had written changed her perspective on an issue and gave voice to things she had trouble saying herself.
"Your writing matters .... You're making a difference."
I don't think there are any better things you can say to a writer.
Guess I'm out of excuses.
I truly believe that. It's one of the principles upon which I live my life. I know that the right words used in the right context can change the world when deployed correctly.
It's just sometimes hard to believe that my words matter.
I find it so easy to neglect my writing. If I'm only writing for myself, or ranting away into an unhearing void, then what obligations can I have to maintain my blog?
I tell myself that no one really cares what I have to say. That my words don't matter yet.
I don't think I can say that anymore.
This morning I received one of the most meaningful emails of my life. A friend and former coworker of mine told me that my words had actually made a difference, that something I had written changed her perspective on an issue and gave voice to things she had trouble saying herself.
"Your writing matters .... You're making a difference."
I don't think there are any better things you can say to a writer.
Guess I'm out of excuses.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Body Shaming
Yesterday, while avoiding work, I came across a personally upsetting story. A 13-year-old girl in St. Louis was having trouble with bullying. Classmates had been taunting her and sexually harassing her because she happens to have large breasts. When the girl's mother reported the issue to the school and the school district she was given the most appalling piece of advice. Instead of sympathizing in any way with this poor girl, the school district instead suggested that they consider getting the girl a breast reduction.
I'll let that sink in.
Not only was the school's response wholly unsympathetic to a very real problem of sexual harassment and bullying, but they contributed to it. They blamed the girl's body for the problem. "Kids will be kids," they seem to say, " and if your daughter had a less sexual body, she wouldn't be facing this problem in the first place."
I cannot tell you how much this angers me, in part, because I've been there.
I hit puberty a bit earlier than most of my peers, and by seventh grade had fairly pronounced curves myself. I was wearing a bra long before any of my friends and had size C breasts before any of my friends were out of their training bras. I was actually nicknamed curves and got a reputation for being promiscuous before I even bestowed my first kiss.
So I know exactly what this girl is going through and what she will face moving forward. People will assume she is a very sexual creature before she even has an idea what that means. People will accuse her of wearing revealing clothing, when she is wearing the exact same things as her friends. Boys will claim she is flirting with them simply because in their minds they have sexualized their interactions with her. And people will blame all of this on her simply because of the shape of her body.
I was actually discussing this with a friend of mine the other day. Our looks play a huge part in how people view and judge us, even though there's nothing we have done to develop these bodies. The friend I was talking to about this has a very boyish figure, with very small hips, no ass to speak of, and small breasts. She was complaining that she could never fill out her jeans to her satisfaction and would give anything to have my curves.
Another friend of mine has an incredibly lithe athletic body. She's petite and adorable, and, in my opinion, has one of the best bodies I've seen. She complained that she wanted my breasts and was actually contemplating a boob job to get them.
I told both of them that while I love my body (you know, when I'm not actively hating it), my curves have created problems for me that they would not appreciate.
For instance, a short time after college, I worked in an office with a very conservative manager. I was told when I began working there that they expected a very modest style of dress, and that I should do my best to adhere to it. I had no problem with that. I had no interest in looking sexy for the office, and I promised to choose my clothes carefully.
Still, about two months into working there, I was taken into my boss's office and told that my outfit that day was far too revealing and that I would either have to put on a cardigan (provided by the boss's wife and about 3 sizes too large) or go home. I was shocked, but agreed to put on the cardigan.
The offending outfit? A pair of loose-fitting slacks and a turtleneck sweater. Apparently the sweater that covered me from neck to wrist displayed my breasts in too enticing a way for my boss.
Two weeks after that, I was called in again. Another problem with a revealing outfit. The long sleeved sweater I was wearing was an over-sized loose knit. Because it was flesh-toned, though, the boss claimed it made me look like I was putting my body on display.
Even though I had a shirt on underneath it, he claimed it was far too sexual for the office.
Another cardigan.
I was not wearing anything sexual to that office and had made a particular effort to wear conservative clothing every day. Yet, because of the shape of my body, even those conservative outfits were considered sexual.
As I told my friends who wished for larger breasts, I'm constantly asked to reevaluate what I'm wearing because it might be considered too sexual.
Button up shirts? Nope, the buttons strain, drawing attention to my breasts.
Turtlenecks? Suddenly I'm a 50s sex kitten.
Tshirts? Let Laci Green tell you about that.
V-necks? Draws the eyes right down.
Scoop necks? Displays the cleavage perfectly.
And every time, it's somehow my fault for the way my body is.
So to the school that actively blames the 13 year old girl's breast size for her bullying, to everyone who attempts to derive someone's character or motives because of the shape of their body, to anyone who has made someone ashamed of their body, grow some decency.
Our bodies are none of your business. How we dress or don't dress does not grant you license to draw conclusions about our character. The shape or size of a woman's breasts, hips, stomach, thighs does not give you an excuse to treat her any differently. If you sexualize someone, then that's on you, not on her.
So knock it off. It's not appreciated.
I'll let that sink in.
Not only was the school's response wholly unsympathetic to a very real problem of sexual harassment and bullying, but they contributed to it. They blamed the girl's body for the problem. "Kids will be kids," they seem to say, " and if your daughter had a less sexual body, she wouldn't be facing this problem in the first place."
I cannot tell you how much this angers me, in part, because I've been there.
I hit puberty a bit earlier than most of my peers, and by seventh grade had fairly pronounced curves myself. I was wearing a bra long before any of my friends and had size C breasts before any of my friends were out of their training bras. I was actually nicknamed curves and got a reputation for being promiscuous before I even bestowed my first kiss.
So I know exactly what this girl is going through and what she will face moving forward. People will assume she is a very sexual creature before she even has an idea what that means. People will accuse her of wearing revealing clothing, when she is wearing the exact same things as her friends. Boys will claim she is flirting with them simply because in their minds they have sexualized their interactions with her. And people will blame all of this on her simply because of the shape of her body.
I was actually discussing this with a friend of mine the other day. Our looks play a huge part in how people view and judge us, even though there's nothing we have done to develop these bodies. The friend I was talking to about this has a very boyish figure, with very small hips, no ass to speak of, and small breasts. She was complaining that she could never fill out her jeans to her satisfaction and would give anything to have my curves.
Another friend of mine has an incredibly lithe athletic body. She's petite and adorable, and, in my opinion, has one of the best bodies I've seen. She complained that she wanted my breasts and was actually contemplating a boob job to get them.
I told both of them that while I love my body (you know, when I'm not actively hating it), my curves have created problems for me that they would not appreciate.
For instance, a short time after college, I worked in an office with a very conservative manager. I was told when I began working there that they expected a very modest style of dress, and that I should do my best to adhere to it. I had no problem with that. I had no interest in looking sexy for the office, and I promised to choose my clothes carefully.
Still, about two months into working there, I was taken into my boss's office and told that my outfit that day was far too revealing and that I would either have to put on a cardigan (provided by the boss's wife and about 3 sizes too large) or go home. I was shocked, but agreed to put on the cardigan.
The offending outfit? A pair of loose-fitting slacks and a turtleneck sweater. Apparently the sweater that covered me from neck to wrist displayed my breasts in too enticing a way for my boss.
Two weeks after that, I was called in again. Another problem with a revealing outfit. The long sleeved sweater I was wearing was an over-sized loose knit. Because it was flesh-toned, though, the boss claimed it made me look like I was putting my body on display.
Even though I had a shirt on underneath it, he claimed it was far too sexual for the office.
Another cardigan.
I was not wearing anything sexual to that office and had made a particular effort to wear conservative clothing every day. Yet, because of the shape of my body, even those conservative outfits were considered sexual.
As I told my friends who wished for larger breasts, I'm constantly asked to reevaluate what I'm wearing because it might be considered too sexual.
Button up shirts? Nope, the buttons strain, drawing attention to my breasts.
Turtlenecks? Suddenly I'm a 50s sex kitten.
Tshirts? Let Laci Green tell you about that.
V-necks? Draws the eyes right down.
Scoop necks? Displays the cleavage perfectly.
And every time, it's somehow my fault for the way my body is.
So to the school that actively blames the 13 year old girl's breast size for her bullying, to everyone who attempts to derive someone's character or motives because of the shape of their body, to anyone who has made someone ashamed of their body, grow some decency.
Our bodies are none of your business. How we dress or don't dress does not grant you license to draw conclusions about our character. The shape or size of a woman's breasts, hips, stomach, thighs does not give you an excuse to treat her any differently. If you sexualize someone, then that's on you, not on her.
So knock it off. It's not appreciated.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
NaNoWriMo
In case you don't actually know more or haven't spoken to me in more than a week, today started National Novel Writing Month, known affectionately as NaNoWriMo. During the month of November, writers are encouraged to take on the impossible/insane/fruitless task of writing 50,000 words in 30 days. Every year hundreds of thousands of people across the country and around the world attempt this task, and every year hundreds of thousands fail while some tens of thousands manage to produce 50,000 words that must be edited, proofread, or completely rewritten before anything comes of them.
Every year for the past 4 or 5, I have participated in this exercise in insanity, and only once have I succeeded in writing the full 50,000. Granted, I write more than that on a fairly regular basis these days. Every week I have work assignments that fall between 10,000 and 20,000 words, and I write regularly on my novel and various blogs and journalling projects that are designed to keep my writing muscles flexed. So one would think that 50,000 words would be nothing.
Ha!
HA! I say to you smug know-it-alls who have never attempted such a task. NaNoWriMo regularly kicks my sorry ass and proves to me that there's a reason I'm an aspiring novelist instead of a published one. Writing 50,000 words on a single manuscript inside of a month requires the creative juices that most muses will never bestow. It requires determination beyond even what is required to finish a graduate degree. And try doing both at the same time! (Actually, don't. There is probably a good reason I quit the program that year.)
Make no mistake. NaNoWriMo is intense. More people fail this task than fail to make it to the gym every week in January. More fail to write 50,000 words than fail to count their calories every day for a full week.
It's hard.
But it's also inspiring. I've spent the last two or three weeks preparing myself for this mad sprint, readying my plots and character ideas, figuring out where my novel wants to go so that I was ready to hit the ground running. Just these few weeks of intense preparation and brainstorming have allowed me to accomplish more of my writing goals than anything else this year. Last night, when NaNoWriMo launched at midnight, I was actually able to write almost 5,000 new words, finishing my first chapter and beginning my second. I haven't done that much work on the damn thing since I started writing this story over the summer.
If you have any task you've been dying to accomplish but have lacked the motivation and system of deadlines that would allow you to actually accomplish it, I encourage you to use NaNoWriMo as a template. You don't have to write 50,000 words. You don't have to write at all. November can be your month for accomplishing impossible tasks. Take on a new challenge. Have you wanted to knit all of your friends scarves for Christmas? November is perfect for that. Want to learn a new language? Become conversant by December 1st.
My husband is actually joining me this November with his own project. He's creating a graphic novel based on the Decemberists album Hazards of Love and he's documenting the endeavor at http://jameshazards.blogspot.com/. I'm so excited that he's joining me on this journey, and I really hope he keeps with it. I think that by having both of us setting these impossible goals, we'll be able to hold each other to it. He'll encourage me to get my writing done instead of finishing up the latest season of The Borgias, and I'll make sure he sticks to his goals instead of playing another season of FIFA.
Now, because I know I"m using this blog entry for procrastination from getting into Chapter 2, I should wrap up. Wish us luck! And go and encourage James in his project as well. I'm looking forward to seeing what he comes up with. :)
Every year for the past 4 or 5, I have participated in this exercise in insanity, and only once have I succeeded in writing the full 50,000. Granted, I write more than that on a fairly regular basis these days. Every week I have work assignments that fall between 10,000 and 20,000 words, and I write regularly on my novel and various blogs and journalling projects that are designed to keep my writing muscles flexed. So one would think that 50,000 words would be nothing.
Ha!
HA! I say to you smug know-it-alls who have never attempted such a task. NaNoWriMo regularly kicks my sorry ass and proves to me that there's a reason I'm an aspiring novelist instead of a published one. Writing 50,000 words on a single manuscript inside of a month requires the creative juices that most muses will never bestow. It requires determination beyond even what is required to finish a graduate degree. And try doing both at the same time! (Actually, don't. There is probably a good reason I quit the program that year.)
Make no mistake. NaNoWriMo is intense. More people fail this task than fail to make it to the gym every week in January. More fail to write 50,000 words than fail to count their calories every day for a full week.
It's hard.
But it's also inspiring. I've spent the last two or three weeks preparing myself for this mad sprint, readying my plots and character ideas, figuring out where my novel wants to go so that I was ready to hit the ground running. Just these few weeks of intense preparation and brainstorming have allowed me to accomplish more of my writing goals than anything else this year. Last night, when NaNoWriMo launched at midnight, I was actually able to write almost 5,000 new words, finishing my first chapter and beginning my second. I haven't done that much work on the damn thing since I started writing this story over the summer.
If you have any task you've been dying to accomplish but have lacked the motivation and system of deadlines that would allow you to actually accomplish it, I encourage you to use NaNoWriMo as a template. You don't have to write 50,000 words. You don't have to write at all. November can be your month for accomplishing impossible tasks. Take on a new challenge. Have you wanted to knit all of your friends scarves for Christmas? November is perfect for that. Want to learn a new language? Become conversant by December 1st.
My husband is actually joining me this November with his own project. He's creating a graphic novel based on the Decemberists album Hazards of Love and he's documenting the endeavor at http://jameshazards.blogspot.com/. I'm so excited that he's joining me on this journey, and I really hope he keeps with it. I think that by having both of us setting these impossible goals, we'll be able to hold each other to it. He'll encourage me to get my writing done instead of finishing up the latest season of The Borgias, and I'll make sure he sticks to his goals instead of playing another season of FIFA.
Now, because I know I"m using this blog entry for procrastination from getting into Chapter 2, I should wrap up. Wish us luck! And go and encourage James in his project as well. I'm looking forward to seeing what he comes up with. :)
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Science in Science Fiction
My current work in progress is actually my first foray into real hard science fiction. Usually I prefer writing urban fantasy and fantasy, because there's so much less research involved, and frankly I read a lot more urban fantasy than I do science fiction. However, earlier this year, I decided I wanted to write a space opera about a group of individuals in the middle of an interstellar war.
Since I know little about war and even less about physics, that meant I had to do a lot of research. I'm basing a lot of my political climate and structure of the war on the events and intricacies of World War I, making that part of the novel much easier to write.
My trouble was with the physics. You see, if I'm going to even read science fiction, I want to have it fit together in a plausible and workable way. No hand-waving and warp drives for me unless they're grounded in some actual theories and research. So in developing my world, I've had to understand a number of things about the possibility of anti-gravity, propulsion systems for quick space flight, and even the bending of space time for warp drives in order to make interstellar flight even possible.
I've been reading all sorts of stuff, fitting together recent discoveries at the Large Hadron Collider with basic understanding of gravitational forces and magnetic propulsion systems. Richard Feynman and Frank Wilczek have been my gurus, and I've been peppering my science-minded friends with questions about spin, mass, and charge in order to develop a realistic and potentially workable theory of anti-gravity and propulsion.
Over the past few weeks I thought I had a brilliant idea about using energy to animate a special kind of matter or condensate. The matter would in turn either behave as though it had much greater mass and attract bodies to it in a way comparative to gravitational pull, or it would behave in the opposite way, pushing an anti-gravity force against the gravitational fields of other objects. This matter would then form the basis for both gravity systems on spaceships and as a propulsion system to navigate through space by pushing and pulling on nearby large interstellar bodies.
This was all a theory, until today.
While reading up on a science fiction writers' forum, I found evidence that my brilliant theory could work with some research that is actually currently being explored by Eagleworks Laboratories and NASA. Using vacuum particles and anti-particles that pop into and out of existence in the Quantum vacuum that occupies space-time, scientists theorize that they could develop a propulsion system that actually propels against the vacuum condensate itself.
I think that if I can extrapolate further, the theories on vacuum fluctuation density could be used as a gravitic force as I've theorized it. With the right energy levels, the density of the Bosons and virtual particles could become both an independent energy source, and enable manipulation of weak and strong force, giving us both means of both pushing and pulling matter against other matter.
What do you think?
Since I know little about war and even less about physics, that meant I had to do a lot of research. I'm basing a lot of my political climate and structure of the war on the events and intricacies of World War I, making that part of the novel much easier to write.
My trouble was with the physics. You see, if I'm going to even read science fiction, I want to have it fit together in a plausible and workable way. No hand-waving and warp drives for me unless they're grounded in some actual theories and research. So in developing my world, I've had to understand a number of things about the possibility of anti-gravity, propulsion systems for quick space flight, and even the bending of space time for warp drives in order to make interstellar flight even possible.
I've been reading all sorts of stuff, fitting together recent discoveries at the Large Hadron Collider with basic understanding of gravitational forces and magnetic propulsion systems. Richard Feynman and Frank Wilczek have been my gurus, and I've been peppering my science-minded friends with questions about spin, mass, and charge in order to develop a realistic and potentially workable theory of anti-gravity and propulsion.
Over the past few weeks I thought I had a brilliant idea about using energy to animate a special kind of matter or condensate. The matter would in turn either behave as though it had much greater mass and attract bodies to it in a way comparative to gravitational pull, or it would behave in the opposite way, pushing an anti-gravity force against the gravitational fields of other objects. This matter would then form the basis for both gravity systems on spaceships and as a propulsion system to navigate through space by pushing and pulling on nearby large interstellar bodies.
This was all a theory, until today.
While reading up on a science fiction writers' forum, I found evidence that my brilliant theory could work with some research that is actually currently being explored by Eagleworks Laboratories and NASA. Using vacuum particles and anti-particles that pop into and out of existence in the Quantum vacuum that occupies space-time, scientists theorize that they could develop a propulsion system that actually propels against the vacuum condensate itself.
I think that if I can extrapolate further, the theories on vacuum fluctuation density could be used as a gravitic force as I've theorized it. With the right energy levels, the density of the Bosons and virtual particles could become both an independent energy source, and enable manipulation of weak and strong force, giving us both means of both pushing and pulling matter against other matter.
What do you think?
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Enough with the Confessional Posts
Apparently drunk Sara vacillates wildly between agnostic and lost to disgustingly sentimental. But at least she's consistently confessional.
I really need to set up a block on Blogger that keeps me from posting under certain conditions. That would stop the rambling stream of consciousness postings that I keep delivering here.
So, my apologies. I'll try to limit the rambling confessional posts a bit. Maybe then I can come up with some actually interesting things to write about.
I really need to set up a block on Blogger that keeps me from posting under certain conditions. That would stop the rambling stream of consciousness postings that I keep delivering here.
So, my apologies. I'll try to limit the rambling confessional posts a bit. Maybe then I can come up with some actually interesting things to write about.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Marriage and Divorce
I don't know why I still keep a Facebook page. I guess it's part about some career options, part about keeping in touch with those I would never contact otherwise, and part voyeurism. I get to see some of how the other half lives, some of how the unlucky in love lives, and how some who have way too much in common with me lives....
Every time I hear about another friend getting divorced after 1 year, 3 years, 7 years, I think it will never happen to me. And yet, they seemed so happy. They made it work. When everyone said it would fall apart, they lasted. Until they didn't.
They married too young, I say. They didn't know each other. They were in love with the idea of being in love. They didn't plan for changes. They didn't know that it would take hard work. They didn't realize that people change and that they would change as much as their partner would, and not necessarily in the same direction.
And then I insist. It won't happen to me.
This month marks six years for me and my husband being together, almost two and a half married, beyond the full 15 for being friends. Every day that goes by I hear about another failed relationship, and I think "Hell no. Not mine." Because, I think, we know how to weather the hard stuff. We know how to face the difficult times. Hell, we've faced a lot of them, and we've emerged stronger.
We'll be better than that.
But I can't deny it. Every time I hear about the divorce of another couple that I thought was solid ... I panic a little bit. Every day, I think about how I can make my husband know that i love him. Every day, I wonder whether I'm taking advantage of the goodness I have in my life. Every day, I think that the mistake I've made will be something that will make me less in my friends', in my family's, and most of all in my husband's eyes. And I go through a moment of panic.
It's a right-brained person's mind, right? Every mistake is the last mistake. If I forget to vacuum because I was busy following my dreams of writing... If I forget to pack the bookshelves because I was making a too elaborate dinner that I ultimately burned and we now have to order pizza... If I forget to switch over the clothes and now he has no gym shorts to wear to the climbing gym ... As a right-brained person, it's all I can do to keep those things straight. It's also, simultaneously, all I can do to keep from assuming that my failure to meet those relatively tiny goals will result in ultimate discard. If I can't remember the barest things that keep a life functioning, why am I worth holding on to? The couch is covered in cat hair? I've failed. The chicken is undefrosted and we have to resort to Ramen and hotdogs? Failure as a wife....
And it's absurd to think it will get easier with children. They'll keep us up. They'll interfere with housework, dreams, with our work, social lives, our family life, and everything else we can imagine in our life right now. How does anyone think a marriage can survive that?
They do. Many marriages grow thinned, stressed, and unloved in the course of bringing children into the world. You can't blame them. It's completely understandable. Children are never less than a burden. They're exhausting. They're harder than anything we've ever faced before. Yet they're never less than a blessing, either.
I like to look at life objectively, since most of the time I live in a completely absurd fantasy world. (It's not my fault. I've tried to fight it. It's in my blood. I'm a writer. It's my job and my passion.) Children are hard on a marriage. If you are not completely sure of where you sit in your relationship., children will always make it harder.
But even if you are completely secure, children can screw everything up. Babies are hard work. Toddlers are more. Children, pre-teens, teenagers, and adults are so much worse. Why would you bring any of that into the world???
And stilll.... It's exactly what we do. Why?
In part because of faith.
I have faith that no matter what, we will be fine.
My husband is a wonderful man. ...
... (Well ... there goes two hours. :) )
I've literally spent two hours writing poetry, prose, and more about why my husband is amazing, and I realize all of it would be immediately dismissed by most of you and most others would refuse to acknowledge it altogether.
Let's suffice it to say, my husband is incredible.
As far as raising children goes:
I have utter faith that we will do our best to do right by them. We will read to them, give them encouragement in their imaginations and shut down anyone that tells them that fairies and unicorns and trolls can't exist.
We will raise them to be strong, creative, inquisitive, independent, resourceful, and imaginative.
Our children will never believe that the story ends at "The End." They will discover new ways for life to flourish, to extend beyond everything we have already prescribed. They will recognize that "Once Upon A Time" is merely an opening and a suggestion. They will know, much as their mother and father do, that "should" is recommendation, that "ought" is an arbitrary map point, and that "will" is meaningless until they exceed it.
That is what being a parent means to me. I married a man who supports all of that and more. He knows what imagination means, what dreaming can do, and what absurdity can conquer. Also, I'm pretty sure, until he sees our entire family fighting gravity on a regular basis and floating over the living room games, and debating the relative importance of projectiles in vacuumed space, and then using it against our perceived enemeies, he won't report us to the authorities. ;)
I love you, my darling. Thank you for letting me dream.
Sara
Every time I hear about another friend getting divorced after 1 year, 3 years, 7 years, I think it will never happen to me. And yet, they seemed so happy. They made it work. When everyone said it would fall apart, they lasted. Until they didn't.
They married too young, I say. They didn't know each other. They were in love with the idea of being in love. They didn't plan for changes. They didn't know that it would take hard work. They didn't realize that people change and that they would change as much as their partner would, and not necessarily in the same direction.
And then I insist. It won't happen to me.
This month marks six years for me and my husband being together, almost two and a half married, beyond the full 15 for being friends. Every day that goes by I hear about another failed relationship, and I think "Hell no. Not mine." Because, I think, we know how to weather the hard stuff. We know how to face the difficult times. Hell, we've faced a lot of them, and we've emerged stronger.
We'll be better than that.
But I can't deny it. Every time I hear about the divorce of another couple that I thought was solid ... I panic a little bit. Every day, I think about how I can make my husband know that i love him. Every day, I wonder whether I'm taking advantage of the goodness I have in my life. Every day, I think that the mistake I've made will be something that will make me less in my friends', in my family's, and most of all in my husband's eyes. And I go through a moment of panic.
It's a right-brained person's mind, right? Every mistake is the last mistake. If I forget to vacuum because I was busy following my dreams of writing... If I forget to pack the bookshelves because I was making a too elaborate dinner that I ultimately burned and we now have to order pizza... If I forget to switch over the clothes and now he has no gym shorts to wear to the climbing gym ... As a right-brained person, it's all I can do to keep those things straight. It's also, simultaneously, all I can do to keep from assuming that my failure to meet those relatively tiny goals will result in ultimate discard. If I can't remember the barest things that keep a life functioning, why am I worth holding on to? The couch is covered in cat hair? I've failed. The chicken is undefrosted and we have to resort to Ramen and hotdogs? Failure as a wife....
And it's absurd to think it will get easier with children. They'll keep us up. They'll interfere with housework, dreams, with our work, social lives, our family life, and everything else we can imagine in our life right now. How does anyone think a marriage can survive that?
They do. Many marriages grow thinned, stressed, and unloved in the course of bringing children into the world. You can't blame them. It's completely understandable. Children are never less than a burden. They're exhausting. They're harder than anything we've ever faced before. Yet they're never less than a blessing, either.
I like to look at life objectively, since most of the time I live in a completely absurd fantasy world. (It's not my fault. I've tried to fight it. It's in my blood. I'm a writer. It's my job and my passion.) Children are hard on a marriage. If you are not completely sure of where you sit in your relationship., children will always make it harder.
But even if you are completely secure, children can screw everything up. Babies are hard work. Toddlers are more. Children, pre-teens, teenagers, and adults are so much worse. Why would you bring any of that into the world???
And stilll.... It's exactly what we do. Why?
In part because of faith.
I have faith that no matter what, we will be fine.
My husband is a wonderful man. ...
... (Well ... there goes two hours. :) )
I've literally spent two hours writing poetry, prose, and more about why my husband is amazing, and I realize all of it would be immediately dismissed by most of you and most others would refuse to acknowledge it altogether.
Let's suffice it to say, my husband is incredible.
As far as raising children goes:
I have utter faith that we will do our best to do right by them. We will read to them, give them encouragement in their imaginations and shut down anyone that tells them that fairies and unicorns and trolls can't exist.
We will raise them to be strong, creative, inquisitive, independent, resourceful, and imaginative.
Our children will never believe that the story ends at "The End." They will discover new ways for life to flourish, to extend beyond everything we have already prescribed. They will recognize that "Once Upon A Time" is merely an opening and a suggestion. They will know, much as their mother and father do, that "should" is recommendation, that "ought" is an arbitrary map point, and that "will" is meaningless until they exceed it.
That is what being a parent means to me. I married a man who supports all of that and more. He knows what imagination means, what dreaming can do, and what absurdity can conquer. Also, I'm pretty sure, until he sees our entire family fighting gravity on a regular basis and floating over the living room games, and debating the relative importance of projectiles in vacuumed space, and then using it against our perceived enemeies, he won't report us to the authorities. ;)
I love you, my darling. Thank you for letting me dream.
Sara
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