Crap

This... isn't a normal post. Nothing contained within is environmentally based. No tips, tricks, or funny stories. Instead... well. A tumble of thought gyrating around in my badly bruised brain – perhaps a way to exorcise a mental demon, and maybe a cultural question or two.

Today's plans have gone a little bit askew, originally this nerd was going to head out with her geek and see a movie that he's been waiting less than patiently for. Now that Star Wars is over, and it will be a while before the next Batman wanders down the path – his big movie moment is the new flick Watchmen, based on the graphic novels of the same name.

I'll grant you as a nerd, my tastes tend to run more towards the elven and trollish rather than the spandex-clad mask wearing heroes of the comics. I know most of the story lines - at least the broad strokes, but it isn't really my “thang”. I enjoyed X-men (hello nurse... I mean Wolverine), Hellboy tickled my fancy – no doubt due to the large element of fantasy within – but Batman and Superman never really grabbed my attention. But, the Prime Geek DOES love the dark-hero genre... and as I love him, well. I resign myself to the odd overly brooding masked avenger and amuse myself with popcorn and the odd snicker over a overly emphasized set of silicon pecs.

But – I don't like going into movies blind, either. So, a bit of my afternoon was spent trawling the internet for spoilers and info about what I was about to blow 2 hours of my life watching (and if I should pack my light-at-the-tips knitting needles... just in case). Rather to my shock and growing horror... one thing kept popping out of review after review. One... word, in fact.

Rape. Over and over. Apparently a graphic flashback of two of the main characters are included in the movie – a rape (or attempted, views vary), followed in time by a child and the eventual consensual sex between the victim and her attacker. Well. That makes it alright then. The attack must have just been a misunderstanding. Perhaps just a bad first date...

?!?!?!!?

I'm sorry. No. This isn't okay, its not “dramatic tension” its not “plot development”. It isn't a “pivotal character movement”. It's rape. Its brutal. Its terrible. Its painful. Its scarring...

I should know.

I'm getting so sick and tired of this same old tired piece of creative laziness – you have to break a character down? Fine. Prove you are enough of a writer that you don't have to go for the easy nut-shot in a fight. Its a cheat. And... its dangerous. There is no “happily ever after” in rape. There is no “redemption and friendship – perhaps even love...” between a rape victim and their attacker. Don't tell me how the “savageness of his act, and the shock of how far he's fallen” forces a character to grow. Bullshit.

The only growth I'm interested in is that of the tree growing out of his grave.

Harsh? Yeah. And in all honesty – a pretty mild version of the foaming out of the mouth, profanity laden initial reaction. We're living in a world where a young performer is beaten without mercy by her boyfriend... and the world lines up to list all the ways “she had it coming.” And “yeah... he was wrong, but she probably provoked it.” The kind of mentality that can accept this type of “entertainment” baffles me. This is so far beyond... I'm sorry. Its simple what it is. It's evil. It's wrong. You don't get to be a hero and you don't get sympathy.

Can a rapist be forgiven? Perhaps. I try. But they don't get play time in their walk to right the wrongs they did. And they definitely shouldn't get an action figure.

This type of nonsense just makes the perpetrator the victim and the victim a harsh lesson they needed to grow.

If the only way you can make a plot point is this.... you're a pretty pitiful writer.

And a bit of a pathetic human being as well.

Happy Valentine's Day from Your Natural Nerd, the Prime Geek, and two outta four of the troubles.

Hope you had a great day and remembered to tell at least one loved one how you feel.

Me?

I'm just getting up this Sunday on at 12:45pm. How do you THINK my holiday went?

(Grin)

Really? I mean... Really?

I've been trying to write about all the plans and plans within plans that are finally starting to leave the paper and pen stage and actually peeking their heads out into reality for the longest time... but I'm stuck on one article I read over the weekend, and I just CANNOT get it out of my winter weary brainpan. Perhaps if I share it with you, I'll finally be able to let my incredulity and disbelief go – and get back to more important things like gardening plans, the house changes, and what in the world am I going to do with 500+ yards of fabric draped around my office! (You think that's a lot of fabric? We're not even going to talk about the yarn stash right now.)

Fine. Right then. Over the weekend, the New York Times decided to shed a little light to all us unfeeling peons out in the world who don't understand that the current economy is hard for every... but maybe just a teeny tiny bit harder for the wealthy amongst us to bear without some serious handouts.

For either a chuckle... or an urge to bash a head (yours, or someone else's, the choice is your own) take a moment and head over to their webpage and read the article regarding the perils of attempting to survive on a mere $500,000.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/08/fashion/08halfmill.html?_r=2 Go ahead... I'll be here. Take your time... I'm still rocketing between giggles and incredulity.

You back? Well? What do you think? Time to run a tellathon to keep those brave lads and lasses in Brooks Brothers and Chanel? I'm torn over the article really (as the fact I've talked about it to – my mother, my husband, 7 forums I belong to, several friends, the mailman, and a guy just trying to pick out grapefruit at the grocery can attest.... its sticking in my head and will not dislodge) I can't decide if the NYT has a secret cabal of writers who are huge French Revolution buffs and they are attempting a sociological experiment to see exactly what it takes to work the common man into a frenzy and start sharpening their guillotines.... or we're just really that far outta touch with the reality of our world's situation. You have to have $16,000 vacations – or you can't keep your head up at work? That $32,000 spent each year on your fourth grader's schooling really isn't enough to help them pass, they need another $3,000+ to make it through the multiplication table?

$450 every 10 days on groceries.

Really.

And here I've been making do on $250. A month.

Don't get me wrong – I'm a fan of capitalism. I like to buy my goodies... I have my little luxuries and treats, I've got bills to pay and debts to honor. You work hard and make the money – you've earned the right to buy what you want when you want, HOW you want. I truly believe that.

But... but...

Really?

People in our country are wondering if they are going to be able to feed their kids tonight... and you wanna whine about how you have to keep up appearances?

You don't have to care about other people. You don't have to volunteer, give back, or even give a flipping tinker's damn about the rest of the world.

Just....

Don't be tacky about it. Don't tell me I can't understand the issues you have and expect me to keep a straight face. Don't whine and whinge that it's a hard life being rich and powerful. Come on folks... at this exact moment in history – I really don't want to view the corporate heads of our economy as Paris Hilton with a combover.

Now if you'll pardon me, I'll just be over here in the corner googling how to build a guillotines.

Tomorrow?

I plant things! (And get far too excited about the prospect of seeing green things again.)

Time to Stop Hoping for Change

As I start to brush the cobwebs off of my brain, my blog, AND my life – I find myself walking into this new year, already chaffing under the constant yelping of Hope/Change! from folks still embroiled in inauguration fervor.

No matter a person's politics... I'm finding I'm not alone in this. Whether you voted for our new president or not, there IS something rather special about knowing our country has its first black president – and that's a HUGE reason to hope, and a giant step for change... but as the weeks have rolled by, I'm tired of the slogan. I'm tired of what I see it beginning to represent.

Hope is great. Change is needed... but its time to stop patting yourself on the back and congratulating yourself with platitudes and a repetitive sound bite.

I don't want to hope for change. I don't want my LEADERS to hope for change. There seems to be this feeling amongst voters now the election is over and the new man is settling into the White House that the work is now done. Time to have President Obama click his heels and settle us into the new world we have dreamed of.

It doesn't work that way.... and while the President seems to be a natty dresser, my brain tends to blink at the thought of him wearing ruby slippers. The time for hoping it will all be better in the morning is over. The time now... is to BE the change. Everyday, every step. Do the work that will END in changes becoming a new reality. Step chanting a rather annoying catchphrase, and let's get to work.

As for me? I'm sliding my winter weary brain back into my writing shoes and will be seeing where I want to take this blog, my life... and my own reality. I'll confess to feeling a tad stagnant and stupefied, penned in by weather and worries... but I'm ready for a change. More to the point – I'm ready to Work to the Change. Wanna come along?

PS – Could someone please whisper in our commander and chief's ear that if he really want to grow a garden, dig one outside the White House and plant some spinach. Leave the orchid raising for Hawaii... and turn down the heat. Mocking the fair weather nature of schools in your district over a little snow while wandering around in a huge building with the heat ratcheted up makes you look a wee bit outta touch with your own platform. Just sayin.....