Godzilla Kisses

• 17:58 I'm traveling to DC on Monday to do a regional training. I'm bringing LOTS of toys. #
• 17:59 I don't think I have ever traveled with this much product in my life. Like a huge carry on full of sex toys. #
• 23:07 Put the xmas tree up. I'm not home a good portion of this month so I have to get my fill of lights, Hanky the Xmas Poo & snowman ornaments. #
• 23:51 Nite space monkeys. Sleep well... #

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LJ is going under a great big shift, isn't it? I'm on Facebook, but don't use it very much and don't trust it very much. (Robin Sweeney over there, if you're interested.) I also have a Twitter account, but loathe the Twitter and all it stands for, but felt compelled to sit on my own name.

I still much prefer LJ, and have/had hopes for DW, but my use and need for this kind of social networking/blogging is still sort of in flux. As part of that flux, I've made a few minor nips to the FL, and if you've been nipped and don't wish to be, please let me know.

Blessed moment of clarity and not a moment too soon. After a day of furious research, transcript requests, and bellowing like people whose cat has seized a private moment with the Thanksgiving turkey [snicker], I washed off the shame of not having throttled my academic advisor. The familiar anger didn't hold the usual comfort. Instead, I was exasperated with myself. Careworn and smelling half-prepared dinner is enough without adding the edema underneath a picked scab of anger, condescension, and impotence.

I've been wondering where all my calm went. I worked hard on it for a number of years and had a pretty good veneer of pseudo-calm for the most part. Then I moved here, shit went down on several fronts (much of which was due to my own ignorance and/or clumsiness, let's be fair) and I was glad to say, you know what? They say that the time it takes to get enlightened is the same time it would take for a bird with a scarf flying over a mountain six miles high to wear down the mountain with the scarf, ergo, I'm gonna be where I'm at and fuck all that fake-ass, hooey-hooey, self-righteous bullshit. And that's valid. But. Still. I'm aware of a time when I didn't feel so angry about the small things, a time when I'd trained myself to respond more calmly to challenges. I've been wondering where all that calm went. I haven't felt calm in a while. I couldn't remember why I ever would. As I was disrobing for my shower, I got it again.

It takes too much energy, and that energy is better spent problem-solving. That's all. Anger rarely only hurts the person its directed at. It always damages the person harboring the anger, even if the anger is righteous. Waste of food.

What an aching, bloody relief to remember.

In other relieving news, a sweetheart called me today to hear my voice. That's what she said, and I felt charmed. She's got a knack for doing that when I'm ovulating and have been crying all day, and (though I doubt she's charting my weird 41 day cycle) she keeps perfect time and better company. Thank you, Dear One.

This entry was originally posted at http://aquenigmatic.dreamwidth.org/65612.html. They let me have more userpics too.

Patrick Stewart on growing up with domestic violence.

1. there is a sister w/ locs who was following my journal who had a question about my deep conditioning a while back. moniquill was it you? pm me.

2. omg so like, yeloson needs to stop the hating madness. yes, i have a massive fangirl squee for the Thor movie. ok? i'm not ashamed of it. And now with creamy Stuart Townsend *and* Tadanobu Asano goodness? Expect to see me talking about this. A lot.

1, i just ate half a pumpkin pie, bringing me to like a pie and a half since yesterday evening. fuck yeah, pie

2. i totally clusterfucked thanksgiving, by telling one group of people I would be there at some semblance of an actual time, with food and PIE, and then hanging out at a whole different shindig until waaaaaay late, and bringing mac salad after everyone was stuffed. still, they were glad for more pie at that point, as they had been just about to pie up, and we brought the blender and supplies for sneaky fruity bourbon drinks of doom.

3 celebration the first was chock full of kids for my kids to hang out with, and old friends up to my ass, and my friends grown ass children, and babbehs for me to snuggle, it was good.

4 celebration 2 was slightly less full, and involved fewer people we knew since forever, but they are just as good of friends, and I am continually amazed that people I knew before they were even born are now like, full grown interesting people who apparently WERE DRINKING BOURBON and my bigkid learned how to play Bullshit.

also, at like 11 my husband turned into a grumpy ass pumpkin and had to go home, because he had to work at ass oclock.

5, adam lambert

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Here's a trailer for a movie I've not heard of before.

Watch the first scene of the trailer a bunch of times before you come to a conclusion about exactly what has passed between these two babies. (any time you have two babies who can sit up you will see the same scene played out several times a day, with variations, and no, it doesn't mean they're not getting along. It means that learning to do things together is hard work and babies get frustrated -- these babies are clearly the best of friends).

( Thanksgiving tip from a simpler time )

Why is it so creepy when a guy says he can't wait till women rule the world? Is it the condescension? But that should just be intensely annoying; what pushes it over into creepy?

ETA: Also he called me "princess" all evening but I know exactly why that was creepy. How's your family holiday going?

20:45 @Paul_Cornell It still improves your genetic fitness. More of your genes around the world! Congrats :-) #

23:01 I didn't even know about the toy show! -- but is it something only girls watch? #

23:06 @wyvernfriend Right -- just that I'm hearing about it from several grown up girls, but no boys at all... (grown up or not) #

23:24 Ha, caught a grown-up boy watching the toy show. Fair enough :-) #

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We've hung all the art, because we finally had everything framed or prepped. It looks amazing in here now. Coming home is like being greeted by a crowd of friends.

Yesterday I took one of my favorite pornographers (and Mrs. Pornographer) who were visiting the city to Toronto's huge artisan and crafts fair, where I made substantial headway on my holiday shopping with things I bought from the people who made them.

(And also had a weird exchange with a woman at a jam stand who was all about bonding with me about making my own chutney - until she found out I was a homo. I shrug my shoulders. Really, Jamstress?)

I spent the day doing outreach to some of the brilliant artists and authors I know about a project, which mostly meant sending emails full of well-deserved compliments to nice people. Not a hardship duty. Many of them have already written back, with great warmth.

And now I have a mug of ice cream and am in my sweats on the couch, reading (or I will be, momentarily). Dog at the end of the couch. Husband in the bath, laughing at whatever he's reading. Chickpeas soaking, ready to be tomorrow's project.

Though admittedly a bit strange, my life is very, very nice.

This dress is not flesh colored. Unless of course by flesh you mean in need of a liver function test. This is before we get into the shocking! concept that flesh comes in more than one color.

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It has come to my attention that there are men in SF in my age range who don't know the correct way to respond when a woman declines a proposition of sex. As a PSA therefore, I offer you:

Right:
1. Oh, cool. Thanks so much for telling me.
2. Optional: Rock on. Let me know if you ever change your mind, kay? In the meantime, I'll go sit over there.

Wrong:
1. Oh shit, really? Wow, that makes me really sad. Damn, that's a bummer. Because I was counting on having sex with you-- I was assuming we were gonna. Let me tell you more about how that makes me feel...
2. (10 minutes later) So, do you wanna blow me now? No? (10 minutes later) How about now?

Rationale:
You might be wondering why the right answers are right, and the wrong answers are wrong. If you live in SF, and you are my age range (> 35) and you are wondering this, you are a damn-fool who should not be dating. I am not going to bother to explain the ethical and interpersonal reasons to you. I will, however, give you a few practical reasons:

1. You will not be invited to my parties.
2. I will have a little chat with any young woman I see talking to you, letting her know that you are a risky person to go out on a date with, and telling her why.

Hopefully unnecessary caveat:
1. This is written with a particular creepy dude in mind, a member of my extended aquaintance.
2. It in not written about you, fabulous gentleman on my f-list.

xoxo

Nabil

( My baby girl is growing up - pictures over time )

( Pictures! )

We (the 3 adults in the house) got vaccinated for H1N1 last weekend. It was a drive-thru vaccination clinic, which was a little weird. And it was massively popular, so there was about an hour wait in the parking lot before you could go up to the vaccination tent. We were parked next to a family with 4 kids (6, 4, 3, and 19 months!) who were mostly speaking in a language I didn't recognize. Iris went right up to the oldest girl and held her hand and played with the other kids for most of the wait.

When I picked Iris up from preschool on Tuesday, she'd woken up from nap a little earlier than usual and was sitting at a table with other kids. I came in, and her face totally lit up and she put her arms in the air and said, "Becca, I'm having *snack*!" like it was the highlight of her day. 2 apple slices and a couple of pretzels later, I said it was time to go home, and could she say goodbye to her friends. She went up to each of the other kids and said goodbye to each one by name. I have no idea where she gets her social skills, but I'm super impressed by them.

We went down to the South Bay to have vegetarian Thanksgiving with some Bab5ers. It was so good to get out of the house - I hadn't been doing much of it because of the sick babies and I really missed seeing people.

The babies like the Numa Numa song. They've been cooing and laughing a lot lately, and Neil is totally distractible when we're out and about. He just needs to see everything going on and can't be bothered to nurse when there's neat stuff to look at.

The Fantastic Mr. Fox is everything Where the Wild Things Are should have been, including a good movie, charming, and in touch with the wild. Whereas WtWTA was all about being a pitiful (but not pitiable) slave to one's tedious neuroses, Fox was all about being yourself, even when yourself is a wild animal. In that way, the closest real thematic comparison would be The Wrestler.

Mr. Fox is a chicken-stealer but when his wife gets pregnant he settles down to writing a column nobody reads for the local animal newspaper. He buys a tree as part of his rise into the petit bourgeoisie but cannot escape the call of his lumpen roots. Three mean farmers just have so many goodies to swipe. The details actually aren't all that important—basically the most intelligent and successful of the farmers has hired a security rat (another former criminal) and leads his fellows in the destruction of the tree and obliteration of animal habitat. Fox cleverly uses this attack as a cover for his own counterattack on the farms, which ups the ante. Eventually a daring rescue mission, using the natural abilities (and shorthand skills) of the various animals is initiated and succeeds.

There's also a subplot about Fox's impotent son, Ash, who is shown up by a visiting cousin who is an attractive karate expert with a powerful meditative practice. In a few ways, the story is Ash's—as in many other movies, he's the runty little bastard who finally gets to prove himself and grow up a bit. He's actually not all that interesting, except that he is exceptionally well-animated. Fox himself is a much more interesting character because he ultimately not only casts aside his middle-class lifestyle, but brings the local animal lawyers, fisherman, and the rest of the community into his crazy, and utterly natural life of crime. (Well, crime to humans of course. Despite the sophisticated real estate law of the local woodland creatures, there doesn't seem to be much in the way of an animal state or governance system.) The best bit is even a meeting with a wolf unable to speak either "English or Latin." It was just the right note at just the right time.



What makes Fox so good is the sense of real peril and the wild, though it is carefully spliced with humor and animation just unreal enough to not greatly upset children. The interact pauses do tend to slow the pace a bit, but that's fine for the most part. The movie certainly could have been fifteen minutes shorter though with no loss. The chickens and squabs Fox and friends eat don't have personalities, which is probably a good idea given that they are just there to be stolen and torn to pieces by hungry mammals. Music is used sparingly—no tedious musical numbers and just one Rolling Stones tune over a montage, plus a few snippets from Fox's radio—and to good effect. Wes Anderson's visual style is well-suited to the material—he uses cutaways here to better effect than in The Life Aquatic, and sub and supertitles work very well here too because the film is based on a children's book. If I have a complaint about the visuals, it's that I saw some thumb marks on Felicity Fox's head on one of the early scenes. I don't even know if the puppets were manipulated manually, but there was some weirdness that, if it was supposed to mean something, was too subtle for me.

Subtle? In a movie? I know, it's CRAZY. Go see this one.

GMA: Adam Lambert, No; Chris Brown, Yes - Gothamist


snog a man, be hot; no morning Tv FOR YOU
Beat you girlfriend bloody; here, be our special guest


GMA can suck shit out my ass

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