Scottish men and scarves

So I'm back in Laramie for the week and mostly it's been pretending to relax while becoming more and more befuddled by the fantasy football league that I still don't fully understand how my coworkers talked me into joining. We had our draft today and I am proud to report that I drafted some people, and that other than that I am still mostly clueless about this whole stupid game. And my coworkers are absolutely no help. 

So I did something today that was simultaneously brilliant and horrifying. I talked my step mother into getting hooked on the new Starz show Outlander. Brilliant because her reactions were priceless. Every time Hottie McScottish was speaking Nicko grinned and nodded her head, even when she couldn't understand him through the accent. And then Hottie asked the main girl if she wanted him to throw her over his shoulder and Nickos hand shot up and she went "ooh ooh yes please!" 

This was a horrifying decision because this is a Starz show. With graphics sex scenes. That I sat through in the same room as my parents. I decided that after the male on female oral scene I can never look my father in the eye again. Or that it is just funny enough to go in this years Christmas card. I go back and forth. 

But luckily during the second episode, my older sister called. I took the call and went into the other room just in time to avoid some chick getting her bodice ripped from her body. Caroline and I were wrapping up our conversation, and she asked for my step mother. Who might as well have been on another planet from the dreamy unfocused look in her eyes. I offered her the phone and she put a hand in my face and pushed me out of her tv eyeline. When I reported this to Caroline, she took it exactly how I would have imagined. 

Caroline: Give Nicko the phone. 

Me:  She's watching the cute Scottish guy. The episode isn't over. 

Caroline: Caitlin, give her the phone.

Me: She won't take it. She's watching the cute Scottish guy. She pushed me. 

Caroline: Hand her the phone. 

Me: No. I'm not even in the same room. I left before she killed me. 

Caroline: Go back into that room and hand her the phone. I am her daughter, I am more important!

Me: What is so important that she can't finish her show? 

Caroline: I need to talk to her about scarves. 

At this point I was laughing too hard to continue the conversation, which Caroline did NOT appreciate. 

In my Bonnie-ass house in scottland

I'd like to share this conversation between my sister and I that actually happened yesterday

Me: F today

Christy: yeah. Feel you there. 

Me: I think I found our scottland home. It's on a loch. It looks bonnie and shit.

Christy: sold. I love things that are bonnie and shit.

Me: if you're mocking my language, I say only that I'll take the high road if you take the low road and I'll be in our bonnie-ass scottland house before ye.

Me: if you're not then, rocking. Join me on the high road and we  can arrive at the same time. 

Christy: I was not mocking but I almost wish I had been. And that I'd been able to hear you sing that little ditty.

Me: if you take the looooow road then I'll take the high road and I'll be at our bonnie-ass scottland home before yeeeeee! For you were too snarky to hear the address and now you'll get eaten by Nessiiiiiiiiiiiiieee

Me: bagpipe solo. 

Christy: woooooooww. 

Me: I'm working on a second verse but my knowledge of Scottish culture is limited to braveheart and Amy pond.

Christy: yeah. Me too. Threaten someone I guess.

Me: you'll take my life but you'll never take my freedom! And you'll never take the mansion from Skyfaaaaaaaall! If you wish to find me, you know just where I'll be. In my bonnie-ass house in scottland. 

Me: it may need a second pass. 

Christy: oh my god. I'm crying. 

This is what happens when Chris and I are forced to wait too long between projects. 

I'm Getting On My Soapbox

Ok guys, this is gonna be a rant so go ahead and skip this if you're not in the mood.

I'm bisexual. I've know this for damn near a decade, I'm out to everyone I know and care enough to tell. Having said that,  I've never wanted my sexuality to be a prevailing part of my identity as a person. I'm a geek, and a writer, and a musician, and a sister, and a friend, and an amateur cook and a million other things AS WELL as being bisexual, so with societies habit of focusing on sexuality I've basically back-burnered my bi-ness to avoid being branded with a bright pink triangle that obscures everything else about me.

I mentioned in there that I am a geek. A nerd. And damn proud of it. I roll Supernatural quotes into everyday conversation. I own a sonic screwdriver. I read comic books and graphic novels hand in hand with my actual books (Plenty of both). I get actively annoyed at people who pretend that they are too cool to love superheroes. Because you're not, and now you sound pretentious. Well done, imaginary person I'm having a mental fight with. This is why you have no friends.

The nerdsphere has a reputation for being all inclusive and accepting of everyone. Sometimes it really does deserve that, especially when it comes to comic books. Strong women and LGBT characters thrived in the comic book world since the 80s. Three decades before Ryan Murphy raised his douchey (straight white upperclass male) voice and said "It's OK to be different". Thanks Ryan, you atrocious halfwit. The world of TV and movies, even genre TV and movies, is struggling to catch up with the wonderful diversity that other corners of the Geek world have been up on for years. Joss and Brian Fuller are helping. They really are. But for every character they create that shatters the expectations of the hetero-normative TV scape, we get a headline like this:

"Constantine" team on why character won't be bisexual

Fuck you people. I have so very few pop culture characters that I can relate to in terms of how I view my sexuality. And Game of Thrones offed one of them almost as soon as he was introduced.  There are so many straight characters on TV, and Hell we get more gay and lesbian characters every year. Why is is that despite the fact that bisexuals make up 1/20 of the population, and that women are more likely to identify as Bi than men, we have Jack Harkness as the lone TV character who was both bi, and didn't have that as his main story line.

The blonde is John Constantine. 

And apart from my personal issues with taking away this character trait, it really fucks up the origins of Constantine. You see, John Constantine was created in reaction to the Thatcher era politics of England. A lot of the "demons" he faced for the first few years of the characters run were thinly veiled allegories for political oppression. And one of the main issues that Thatcher was conservative on was homosexuality. By making John Constantine bisexual, the character was immediately at odds with the oppressive views of the world around him, and therefore doomed to Hell. It's like having a version of Superman where Krypton never exploded and Clark Kent just decided Earth needed a jackass in tights to protect it sometimes. The origins are important, they provide the main fucking character motivation. Which leads me to believe that the show is not being run by anyone who was a fan of the character of the Hellblazer books. Which is sad in it's own right. So I say again, fuck you people.

I'm off my soapbox now. Back to posts about music and sexually aggressive star clusters. 

Let Me Rest

I've been having a lot of issues sleeping. Not that I've ever been real good about keeping a consistent sleep schedule. I was the kid who stayed up till 1am on school nights routinely and then shot out the front door of the house at exactly 7:36 every day because that's the last possible moment I could leave and still make it to school on time. Sleep and I have been unwilling allies all my life, struggling against each other as I fight my need for it with every night.

But these days I'm no longer getting 6 hours a night and then sleeping in on my days off. I'm getting 2-3 hours a night and maybe 8 on my days off. It's stress and depression related, I know that. I know I could probably use some therapy and maybe some doctor regulated medication. I also know that at the rate I'm going, I'll have my credit card payed off just about the time I need new tires on my car again, and with the extra people we just took on at work I'm not looking at any overtime in the foreseeable future.

So fuck it. Let us turn our eyes to a beautiful song that sounds ancient and is thematically appropriate.

I give you Let Me Rest by David Wax Museum:

Be still my nerdy heart

The BBC made a tv show of the Three Musketeers. It's glorious. No really. Go now and watch. I'm one episode in and it is both more faithful to the book, and much more fun than any of the adaptations since the Michael York version. I highly recommend it. 

Also, if a decent helping of homoerotic subtext doesn't put you off a show, Syfys Dominion is a ton of fun. Good summer show. 

I'm posting at eleven at night because I've given up on going to bed at a reasonable hour. I've managed to clear up a lot of my depression simptoms from my days, but I can't seem to control them at night. My mom and my sister called in quick succession the other morning and because this is the way my brain works these days, I was sure they were calling because someone died. I was holding back tears when I finally got my mom on the phone. No one died. She was calling to ask about my impending trip out to Colorado and my sister was calling to complain about another sister. And it still had me spending the whole day on the couch in a ball of barely contained emotional fragility. 

I know that depression lies. I know that as a writer, I have chained my emotions to a continuous roller coaster ride that rises and falls with my very fragile ego. And from a rational point of view I understand that the ups and downs I'm experiencing are all in my head. But the fact that they exist in my head is the problem. 

Enough of these heavy issues. I'm off to take my very jumpy cat downstairs where she cannot hear the pre 4th of July fireworks. I probably won't get much sleep tonight, but in live for the hope that there's always tomorrow

When it rains...

So I finished the last post and got onto spotify to play around with some new music. And almost like it found me, this song came on the radio. I literally know nothing about Antony and the Johnsons except that this song is gospel in all the right ways. It pushed its way into my head from the first piano chord and started its work on me. Rest assured that I will soon own this album. Weird that I should post about being unable to properly mourn and then find a song that so perfectly encapsulates that pain. This is probably the most healing I have felt in a long time. Might be a coincidence but it's a welcomed one.

This is River of Sorrow by Antony & the Johnsons

The Incredible Process of Letting Go

Two and a half months. The longest break I've ever taken from this blog. I thought about posting a lot, but the truth is I haven't had the motivation to do much of anything lately. A small explainer first, and then I'll get to the actual post.

This last three months has been a cluster fuck of emotions. I lost Elly, which I am no where near dealing with or even addressing in a healthy or sober fashion. My writing partner and I are making significant (But secret because that's how Hollywood works) steps into making our little show a reality. I found out that a guy named Nick, who I worked with for years, died in a really stupid and pointless way. Put all together it just made for to many emotions to deal with.

Weirdly enough, I didn't attend Elly's funeral. I couldn't. There was something to being confronted by her death that I wasn't sure I would be able to take. And maybe that was a mistake, and I would be a more healed, better person if I had sucked it up and gone. But I didn't. I did go to Nick's wake. About a hundred people (Mostly people he had worked with) gathered at the Egyptian theater in Hollywood to drink burbon and talk about him. There was food at one point but I didn't stay that long. I had a couple shots of his favorite stuff and admired how many people this gruff and slightly caustic man had touched enough that they were in mourning for him. I cried a little, but not in front of anyone. And then I walked around Hollywood for a bit and drove myself home.

The reaction I should be having to all the news we keep getting about the show should be a wash of good feelings. I don't know if it just hasn't sunk in, or if all the sad and angry things I'm feeling just wont let the good emotions poke through. I know I miss Elly. I know don't actively miss Nick, but I'm angry about the incredibly stupid way that he was lost to the world. I know that this show being made would give my sister and I the life we've been fighting for, the life we want.

And in the mean time I'm hooked on pop music. Literally. Pop music gives you a dopamine rush that no other kind of music allows. It's a good alternative to my usual summer music (Punk) and it's a cheap alternative to the therapy I so obviously need.

Enjoy

For the record that I Bastille doing the most adorable cover of a terrible Miley Cyrus song ever. EVER