Late, Late For a Very Important Date

With you, internets! Only ever with you.

I need to start posting these the day I mean to as opposed to at 3 in the morning on the next day. Anyways, here I am, just spouting off words because I honestly can’t think of anything better to write but consistency is the key here, right?
Well, not right. I could spend the rest of my life pushing some button at the button factory for consistency’s sake but that wouldn’t necessarily lead me anywhere other than Arkham.

Just an odd thought, though, that I had earlier. I was thinking how interesting and awesome it would be to go to one of these cons and ask each artist to draw equal numbers of male pin-ups and female pin-ups. For each picture of Catwoman bending over some diamond necklaces, I’d love to see Batman leaning against a doorframe with his tights ripped “just so”.

I’ve been watching Lost (as mentioned in the last bajillion posts) and the one thing I love about the show is how consistent they are with the equal amounts of girl pretty and guy pretty. If there’s a gratuitous female clothing changing scene, there’s usually a gratuitous shirtless and dripping wet male fishing scene. And so on and so forth. I’d just like an equal number of gender pretties in my comics, if you please. And not that Frank Miller shit where Joker is this slick, metrosexual deviant with an enormous dragon tattoo. That’s just not fun.


Please tie a bow around a sexy Flash in a towel hung low or a drenched Superman with just his cape. Too many artists take the male pin up as an over the top, cheesy kind of art. And I guess it is, just as much as the over the top cheesy kind of pin ups they draw each panel for women.

So fair’s fair. Sexy girly times = Sexy boy toy times. Use your imagination, artists and writers. Actually, that seems to be the problem. Use real life examples. If shows like Lost and Battlestar Galactica can manage sexy boy times without it overpowering the stories being told, I’ve got faith that so can you.

Actually. I’d love to be proven wrong, so I think I’m gonna go look for some genuinely hot panels of various comic book characters from various artists’ sites or scans daily.

But tomorrow.

No writing today, got a couple of emails done, and haven’t finished the good old curriculum vitae, but getting there.

Also, Lost with BKV as story editor. Is it just me or did it suddenly start getting really scary suspenseful again instead of just bloody confusing?


Evening Thoughts of the Day

No more excuses. From now on, it’s post at least once a day, preferrably twice with my morning thoughts and evening thoughts. In my rare moments of thinking further than two weeks into the future, I envision a life where I’m stable, able to pay back my family, and doing something I love.

Unfortunately, I have a twangy feeling in my heart that tells me I’m only going to get two of those, because that’s how Life makes sure I’m not getting too cocky. As if it’s ever given me the chance to get cocky. For once, I really would like to rock out with my cock out. Not just get by  . . . with my cock shy?

For my own future reference (and future memoir), I’m currently in a transitional phase where I’m debating applying to the Americorps or an unpaid internship at a banging art gallery. Not that the service army will pay me much more than minimum but it’s something. And really, considering the fact that I’ve already squandered, like, tens of thousands of dollars on an education I’ll never finish, something is better than nothing.

Right-o. Momentary bitterness is momentary.

Moving right along, is it sad that I’m actually getting life advice from watching House’s struggles with therapy? This should definitely be a fandom secret.

Exciting weekend ahead. I’ll just have to remember to post about it. Maybe string up some pictures. Make this place look livable. Put an Ikea futon in the corner and all the fly guys will be flocking at my metaphorical doorstep.

Y’know, if they haven’t been confused by my cock jokes. 😀


Thinky cap on.

So I’ve got a philosophy of religion exam tomorrow, and in preparation, instead of actually preparing the actual essay questions that will be on the exam, I’ve got Don Cupitt and Stephen Law in my head, telling me what they think about God. Which mostly consists of Non-Realism, which states that God doesn’t exist outside of our human faith and understanding of him. So humans pre-date God.

Religious realism, where God is literally sitting on a throne in the sky with Jesus on his physical right hand, is an outdated notion according to Cupitt.

Good stuff for thinking.

But what really got this post started was an excerpt from Stephen Law’s The Philosophy Gym, the chapter titled “What’s wrong with gay sex?” in which Stephen Law takes Plato’s device of using mock discussions between various characters to illuminate certain aspects to a stance against homosexuality. In the course of arguing against an overly simplistic defense of “homosexuality is just wrong” , Law covers the appeal to the Bible; its unnatural, dirty, and unhealthy nature; corruption of young; promiscuity; and family values. And in its own simplistic way, the chapter manages to put up some defenses. But that got me started on a train of thought I’ve had before, namely, the instinctive feeling of wrongness that people associate with certain kinds of sexuality and sexual relationships.

I’m an avid proponent of gay rights and equality of rights for all LGBT citizens of America. Until recently, though, I’ve attempted to keep my support on the down low when I’m at home because my parents were freaked out enough that I had gay friends. If I “came out” to them as a supporter of the LGBT movement, they’d both have cows and then attempt to use those cows to sell me off to the most hetero-aggressive Korean traditionalist male  Roman Catholic groom as soon as possible.

Well, chalk it up to a late phase of teenage rebellion or just immature perversity but lately I have been attempting to engage my parents, especially my father in dialogues involving a comparison of their feelings and mine on homosexuality. We never really got anywhere in terms of convincing either my father or myself that we were wrong but it certainly got me thinking about how my father could feel so strongly that homosexuality was unnatural without any logical support to back him up. He didn’t even have the defenses that Law enumerated in his book. He simply and consistently insisted that homosexuality felt completely wrong and unnatural, and that it always would. Which got me thinking about what I would consider unequivocally wrong in respect to a relationship or sexual orientation.

I then thought of the nature of incest. When I think of an incestuous relationship between a parent and child, my immediate reaction is disgust and horror. I tried to think of a situation where I would be comfortable with a mother and child or father and child engaging in a sexual or romantic realtionship, and I really couldn’t.  I can’t help but think that this instinctive and immediate reaction is similar to my father’s reaction to homosexuality.

So, unfortunately, this is the point at which my logic fails me because to be truthful, I have no logical defense for why I feel this way. I could tell you it’s because I subconsciously understand that any reproduction from a relationship of that sort is fraught with genetic peril or that it can be seen as an abuse of authority or some other reason but even if none of those reasons applied, I would still feel somewhere in my illogical and inexplicable little soul that incestuous relationships are wrong.

I’m not sure which side I would come down on if incestuous couples were to look for legitimization and civil equality in the eyes of civilization and the law. I like to think I’d be logical about it, or at least open to discussion but as I just laid out, this isn’t a topic that I’m logical about.

To be fair, I don’t seem to be quite as squicked about relationships between first cousins. I’ve done my fair share of hillbilly jokes and West VA ridicule but I’ve never had the instinctively horrified reaction to cousin relationships that I’ve had towards parent child relationships. I don’t know if that’s because I live in a world where that particular relationship is still prevalent in various societies or if it’s tied to my personal view of various family members. But it bears reflecting upon.


I apparently FAIL at life. Still got three papers due Monday, and now am behind on a story. And my sleep schedule is insanely not right.

I’m pretty sure my professors are all either hating me or disappointed in me at this point.

Things are falling apart. I’m watching it all fall apart, and all I have to do is hold it together with my hands, and I’m not moving.

This is not pain. This is motherfucking stupidity in the most motherfucking insane way.

Lack of Profundity

These posts are just inane, but I promised to write one a day, and I’d like to at least pretend to stick with it. At the moment, I’m sick and dirty and smelly and brain dead because becoming even mildly sick with a cold or flu seems to drain my body of the will to live like a proper 21st century citizen, who, with her easy access to hot running water and chemically enhanced soaps and several layers of comfy, cotton clothing, should not be willing to forgo all that for a wallowing in sniffly misery.

Well, started this yesterday but got sidetracked by my crazy aching body and sleep deprivation induced nausea so instead, there gets to be a post today about the lack of brain matter and energy in my, well, brain at the moment.


Is it wrong that I can feel what little intelligence I have dribbling out of my ears daily? I woke up this morning trying to figure out something about circumferences and diameters, and I couldn’t. I literally can not remember any of the required equations and measurements to figure out an everyday mathematics problem.  This horrifies me. Three years ago, I could do this stuff in my sleep. Three years ago, I could study and learn and memorize. I look at myself now, and I don’t know what I’ve become. I literally feel like I’ve become more stupid.

I have become more ignorant if not actively less intelligent. I don’t remember basic geometry and algebra, I can’t memorize basic biology, I have trouble figuring out common sense situations. Plus, I can’t write worth shit. And if I don’t have that, what do I have?

I have got to stop angst-ing all over the place. It leaves a terrible mess that I just have to clean up later.