o halp

Sir Guy's Diary.

wat am i doing?

Have I written 90% of the first season already? Yes, yes, I have.

If you like surprises, have a look at this comic. Just scroll down and watch (computer must be Javascript enabled).

And then come and join me in the pillow fort.

At some point in the past I decided that my MP3s would have any additional artists listed in the song title rather than the artist name. This was so they'd all be filed nice and neatly in the same album folder under one artist, rather than separately, under each combination of artists. Yes, yes, I should be less OCD, I know. BUT ANYWAY. It's made for some rather... peculiar song titles:

It's Only Love (with Tina Turner)
He Moved Through The Fair (with Sinéad O'Connor)
My Dark Life (with Brian Eno)
Let's Make Love (with Tim McGraw)
How Do You Feel About Fooling Around (with Willie Nelson)
Breakfast In Bed (with UB40)
Back Together Again (with Donny Hathaway)
It Takes Two (with Rod Stewart)
If I Ever Get Lucky (with Merle Haggard & Ray Price)

...

Is it wrong that, as I posted today's rda_daily pic, I was thinking, "You know, with a little Photoshopping, this could be a disturbing addition to the Jack's Magic Glowing Penis trope thing. Just move one of those purple shafts..."?

It is wrong, isn't it? Very wrong. Sorry.

(Fortunately I don't have access to Photoshop at work.)

( Pic under here. )

For the last three days, I've failed at my self-imposed project to blog every day for threeweeks, but life is kicking my ass at the moment. It's in fact particularly hectic today - must get the last few things done so this damn website can be launched - but I need a break.

So.

Talking to rydra_wong yesterday, I was thinking about doing good (or sensible) things for the wrong (or strange) reasons. For instance, arm lifts - okay, I've not tried doing them yet, but I have less issues about lifting weights up in the air, above my face, than I do about doing press-up type exercises to strengthen my arms. At the moment, it's partly due to my right wrist (I have this thing that Doctor Internetz says may be a ganglian cyst, I need to get it looked at, it's not bad but it makes it less than fun trying to support my weight in Downward Dog), but really, I've always hated doing press-up type exercises, so that's just a convenient excuse.

Lifting weight above my head appeals far more to me, and that's not entirely unrelated to reading... Jane Austen? Georgette Heyer? one of those, when I was a teenager, and coming across instances of the Regency belles holding their arms up above their heads before entering the room, so the blood drained from their hands, leaving them pale and smooth. I used to copy the idea. Every now and then, the mood overtakes me again (not all the time; I'm not crazy!), and I stick my arms in the air. Not usually when other people are around, though. And, hey, the technique got me a brief hand modelling gig for SMA, so apparently it works. *g*

Another thing I do for a weird reason is give blood. Yes, yes, it's good to do, people need it, etc... You want to know why I do it? Robin Hood.

I was crazy about Robin Hood when I was younger. I wanted to be in his gang, and maybe to be his Marion, but not one of those girly Marions in a silly dress that got in the way, oh no. I wanted to be an expert with the bow and arrow, and I wanted a sword and a dagger and one of those green and brown outfits, and I wanted to be able to disappear like magic into the trees. Maybe I wanted to be Robin; it kind of depended on whether or not I liked boys that week. But anyway, in one of the most common versions of Robin's death, he's ill and goes to visit his cousin, an Abbess. She's secretly evil and in league with the Sheriff, though, and she persuades Robin that he needs to have some blood let. He falls asleep during the bloodletting, and she leaves him draining, until he's at death's door. Then Little John - who'd found out about the plot, somehow - breaks in, and Robin, dying in his arms, shoots one final arrow out of the window, hitting the Sheriff of Nottingham again. Where it landed, that's where he was buried.

Anyhow, it's very difficult to pretend to be Robin Hood on his deathbed when there are cheery nurses talking to you, trying to make sure you don't fall asleep, pass out, have a fit, etc. Nurses are so pragmatic.

Surely I'm not the only one who does this sort of thing...?

Looking back through my tags, I realise that I've either not reviewed some of the Stargate novels, or I've not tagged them properly (dammit). The missing ones are Sacrifice Moon, A Matter of Honor, The Cost of Honor, Roswell, The Barque of Heaven, and Hydra. So, before the next four (whee!) come out, and because I am slightly obsessive-compulsive about completing things...

ETA: Links to more recent reviews are being added as and when written.

( The list. )

***SPOILERS FOR ALL THE BOOKS BELOW.***
I've tried not to completely ruin them for anyone who's planning on reading them, but consider yourself warned, there are plenty of spoilers. I've tried to separate them out, for people who've read some but not others.

( Sacrifice Moon )

( A Matter of Honor / The Cost of Honor )

( Roswell )

( The Barque of Heaven )

( Hydra )

( The rest of the novels, a brief overview )

So, there - my thorts, you have had them.

This began as my take on the latest fannish wibble, but somehow turned into my fandom manifesto. Will crosspost to LJ when I get on, this evening.


1. I don't believe slash has access to a deep, underlying truth that het and gen are somehow missing, and that someday, if I'm a very good girl and eat all my greens, I'll understand.

2. I don't believe that het is always indisputably right and canonical. Heteronormative happens.

3. I don't believe that gen is the only proper and unbiased way to read a show (not that I've run across gen people who say that, but you know – for the sake of equality. *g*).

4. I think it's impossible to really know whether an actor was staring soulfully into his co-star's eyes and willing the audience to believe this was True Love, or if he was staring at a wig on a stick for the tenth take that morning, willing the director to yell "Cut!" so he could go grab some lunch.

5. I know that a (TV/movie) character is not created by just one person – so while I will be interested in one person (actor, director, writer, editor...)'s take on that character, and it may make me look at them differently, I won't necessarily take it as an Ultimate Truth.

(5b. That said, I think it's a bit different for characters in books, because there's usually just one driving force behind their creation. But I still feel free to apply my own interpretation in the privacy of my own head, and on my own blog. Put your hand down, Ms. McCaffrey. Yes, you will be marked down for handing it in late, Ms. Rowling.)

6. The show as it is broadcast is the finished product, in my opinion, and anything else – going to all the conventions, talking to the actors, watching the cut scenes, owning the action figures, an in-depth knowledge of a subject that the show touches on – is gravy: nice, but ultimately not essential.

7. I believe that being an expert in a TV show is about as serious as a study of The Da Vinci Code. Which is to say, not at all. It's fiction, and acknowledged as such by the creators. That means they have a license to make shit up if the facts don't fit the storyline. In turn, fans have the freedom to interpret that how they like. (Yes, even the new Doctor Who fans, no matter how much I want to tell them to get off my lawn.)

8. I don't have to like someone's interpretation, but I don't believe that gives me the right to tell them they're wrong. They're not wrong; they just have a different opinion.

9. I do, however, want to be challenged if someone finds my interpretation in some way hurtful or damaging or sexist or racist or homophobic or ageist or sizist or... I choose my words because of their connotations, so ideally I'd like to know if those connotations differ significantly for other people. I don't want to perpetuate oppressive beliefs.

10. I would like for the above, particularly the last two, to apply in reverse.