The Pull List: Mind the Gap

Via Inside Pulse

This was one of those comics that I just happened to really get into based solely upon the cover of the first trade paperback I saw. I was amazed that the quality of art by Rodin Esquejo (colored by Sonia Oback) continued onto the actual pages, because I've found that this is not necessarily true of all publications (sigh She-Hulk sigh). And the story, written by Jim McCann? Oh, hell, yes. I love me a good mystery, and when you throw in some paranormal hijinks, I am so there.

Mild spoilers ahead, just as a basic warning for anyone who'd rather go into the comic blind (it's been out since 2012, so I feel no need to censor myself).

Rest in Peace, Robin Williams

For those of you who are avoiding reading about Robin Williams or have sensitivities toward the topic of suicide, please feel free to skip this one. (Plus, it's kind of ... stream of consciousness, a way for me to figure out what's actually going on inside my head at this moment, so it probably doesn't make much sense.)

Dear Sister Person Book Club

After reading Courtney Milan's The Governess Affair, I went into read-all-the-romances mode. I even went to get a library card for the specific purpose of checking out romance novels*, and I brought home a decent stash for two weeks, one of which was Beth Ciotta's Her Sky Cowboy. When I posted it on my Facebook page (shameless promotion, I know), my sister immediately responded with, "OMG I WANT TO READ THIS WITH YOU."

And thus comes my new feature: Dear Sister Person Book Club. Basically, my sister and I read a book and then write reviews to each other: I post mine here, she posts hers on her blog, and then we link to each other. Voila! I think we, at least initially, decided it was going to be romances, but I might have been able to convince her that we should do other books, too. At least, that's what happened in my head. I should probably make sure that this is the arrangement. 

Anyway, we're going to do two of these per month, on the first and third Thursdays, and, as you probably guessed, our maiden voyage is going to be Her Sky Cowboy, to be reviewed on September 4th. I'm not quite sure if our second is going to be the sequel, His Clockwork Canary, but I have already placed a special request with the Louisville library to send me a copy of the book to the branch closest to me. You know, just in case. 

* Okay, I also checked out Jay Lake's (rest in peace, my friend) Pinion, John Robert Marlow's Nano, and John Le Carre's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, but whatever. I have other interests. 

I Have the Worst Luck with Cars, Part XIII: It Spreads

I wrote this post well before Fancy decided to fall apart, and I'm actually laughing right now as I reread my somewhat optimistic attitude toward the car. I mean, I actually wrote, "Like I've said in a previous post, the car has its issues, mostly stemming from a former owner who just didn't give a single shit about her car, but it drives well and only gives us real problems when it gets crap gas."

These are not happy tears of laughter.

The Pull List: Genius

Art by Afua Richardson
Via Pop Culture Zoo

I was excited about this comic when I read the concept, taken directly from Comixology:

Alexander, Hannibal, Napoleon, Patton. What if the greatest military mind of OUR generation was born in strife, surrounded by violence and combat since birth? When the gauntlet is dropped, the questions isn't "How did 17-year-old Destiny Ajaye unite the gangs of South Central into a killer army and declare war on the LAPD?" No, the question is, "Can anyone stop her?"

I Have the Worst Luck with Cars, Part XII: Seriously, Fuck All the Cars

This is me, flipping off the world.

I don't know why I'm surprised anymore that this sort of thing happens to vehicles I own. And yet, every single time, I'm all, "OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS HAPPENED." However, I think I may have just reached the extent of my willingness to be optimistic when it comes to cars.

The Pull List, August 2014

Back in Small Town, TN, I had a pretty paltry pull list at my local comic shop, partly due to money and partly, well ... because the comic shop sucked. The owners and staff were actually quite knowledgeable and friendly, and the small group of people who had a regular presence there was just as passionate as their Big City counterparts, but because there wasn't that large a draw, the shop couldn't always stock its shelves as well as it wanted. So, my access to comics was limited, to put it lightly.

Now, I don't have that excuse, for which I am ridiculously thankful, but I am 100% overwhelmed because I am 100% starting over. I've never been one to really collect comics, except in trade paperback form, and it takes a very special something to convince me that I want to own it forever. Even right now, with all of the comics that are piquing my interest, I only have plans to purchase a few: Saga*, Mind the Gap, Sex Criminals, and pretty much anything involving Deadpool**. This may change over the course of the next couple of months; a lot of really intriguing shit is coming out, and I had to rely on suggestions from my new co-workers, who were more than willing to help me out.

But here's what I'm really looking forward to this month:

Thank you, Courtney Milan.

I'm going to be one hundred percent honest: I have never really been a fan of porn. So much of what is readily available is geared toward a heterosexual male, and since I am neither hetero nor male, I simply cannot bring myself to enjoy it. But my issues go deeper than that; sex scenes make me exceptionally uncomfortable. You can ask my husband: when we first married, the second a sex scene appeared in a movie, I'd make an excuse to leave the room, or I'd busy myself with whatever random thing on the floor caught my desperately searching interest. Even when I was alone, I felt nervous or ashamed or overwhelmed or annoyed and just skipped ahead in the movie. A big part of why I love older movies was because of the censorship; they had to be creative with how they portrayed sex, so a lot of it was innuendo and clever visual puns. Over the past four years, it's gotten somewhat easier to watch a scene that goes heavier than a kiss, but I still have this twinge of ... guilt? Confusion? I really can't explain the very complicated emotion(s) that arises, but it's there in all it's obnoxious glory.

And then I discovered Courtney Milan. Well, to be more accurate, I rediscovered her. About a year or so ago, I had downloaded one of her ebooks for free from Amazon but had never gotten around to reading it. I assume it was my subconscious, since everything else I'd purchased that day has been read at least once, but I can't be sure of my motivations. Anyway, I got on the bus to go to work, and since I had an hour before I would reach my destination, I whipped out my Kindle to peruse what I could read. The first thing that stood out to me was The Governess Affair (hey, it's still free, guys!), and I tilted my head like a flummoxed puppy. I'd been a casual browser of Smart Bitches, Trashy Books - mainly for the hysterical reviews and rants about truly awful books - and a vaguely remembered reading that this was a good story, so I opened it and began to learn about Serena and Hugo.

My love for this novella knows no bounds, and not just because it was well-written and engaging. It was the most comfortable I have ever been while having erotic material in front of me. And I was on a fucking bus, for God's sake. True, no one else could see what I was reading and, as far as I know, nobody was aware of the sensations I felt, but there was no shame, no voice at the back of my head telling me to look away. It was just me witnessing very tender (and exceptionally arousing) scenes between two complex people*. Once I realized what had happened, much later in the day, I actually teared up: I had never had that experience before, and that fact both saddened and elated me. I wanted to find Courtney Milan and give her a giant hug, to thank her for writing such a beautiful story. I also wanted to buy all of her books that very moment, something I plan on doing as soon as possible.

Snubbing my nose at romance novels was somewhat of a passion of mine. I'm not even going to try and sugarcoat it, because, like I said, I made a promise to be honest here. I deemed them as lesser than their more "literary" counterparts at the worst, or just light, fluffy reading for when there's nothing better to do, at best. This attitude is common toward many forms of writing, including my beloved sci-fi/fantasy, comic books, and graphic novels, and it makes me cringe a bit when I think about my own pretentiousness. Romances, like every other genre, has its shining stars and absolute dregs**, and it's not for everyone; but it still has this stigma that stems from the fact that they are written primarily for and by women. This is not new information. Just look it up on Google, or hell, ask one of your friends about his or her opinion on them.

They're frivolous! 

It's just a bodice-ripper with no real substance!

Surely you can find something better to read, yes?

All of these things I've heard - and said - at some point in my life. And yet, here I am, waxing poetic about a corset-unlacing, quivering member book that gave me feelings so profound that I wept. It's a little disorienting, and believe me, I am totally aware of how navel-gazey I'm being right now. Because of one short novella, I am getting ideas of how to explore my sexuality with my husband*** (steamy book reads, anyone??); I'm reevaluating the nature of sex within a relationship, which is actually adding a whole other dimension to the story I'm working on right now; and I'm aching for more Courtney Milan. It's a very, very strange place to be, but I have no complaints.

So does anybody have any good recommendations? Because seriously, I may have just found an additional hobby.

* And there was consent, which OMGOMGOMG made me so happy. There is something so hot about a guy who's like, "Okay, I want you, but you have control in this situation. I'm not going to touch you unless you ask me to do so."
** There, indeed, is a book out there that's about having sex with dinosaurs. I'm not even kidding. It's horrid. And I'm not going to link to it, so if you're curious (or if that's your thing?), Google that shit.
*** We've tried watching porn together, but I got so incredibly defensive - "Oh, but that's not hot, and see, this is my problem with this, and ..." - that it wasn't fun for either of us. And dirty talk makes me laugh. Hard. Anyone who's ever tried it with me has inspired the mood to be ruined.

Growing older kinda sucks sometimes.

My grandfather is turning 84 on the 30th of this month. Eighty-freaking-four years on this planet. Sure, it's not really that long of a time, considering the age of the universe, but still. He's seen a lot in his eight decades of life: several wars, his own immigration from Canada, civil rights, raising four kids on a small salary, trying to figure out "kids these days" through the actions of his (now ten) grandchildren. I'm not going to lie and say that I have a great relationship with the man, because I don't really. I don't know him very well and haven't spent a lot of time with him, mainly due to the geographical divide between us. Growing up a military brat meant that I spent a lot of my childhood moving across the U.S., and eventually, my family set itself up in Nashville, TN, a good twelve hours away from my mother's parents, and then, due to my parents' work schedules, it was very difficult to find time for traveling. Once a year or so, my parents would take me and my sister up to see him once a year or so, and he and my grandma (before she died in the late 90s) would do the same, usually around the holidays, as many families do.

But it looks like that is going to change. A few days ago, my grandfather was involved in an exceptionally bad car accident, where his car turned into this:

Via my mom, who's currently in the hospital with my grandfather

The police are still going over details regarding what actually happened in the wreck, but as far as we know now, my grandfather ran a red light and was t-boned by a teenager who was speeding (and driving his parents' car, which suuuuuucks). His car rolled over and over, leaving him with multiple injuries: broken sternum and ribs, punctured (and then collapsed) lung, a heart attack (not so much an injury, but related to the event), and a perforated small intestine. You know, things that would be difficult for someone who is not 84-years-old to recover from. Luckily, the other driver was not harmed and was able to walk away, but my grandfather was taken to the trauma unit. Two surgeries later, he's still in the hospital, with my mom by his side as often as she can be, sedated and in a ton of pain.

From talking with my mom, Grandpa has been slowly struggling with bouts of dementia. Prior to his wreck, he was known to ask her who the hell she was when she called, only to not remember having the conversation a few hours later. This isn't an uncommon thing for the elderly community, but it's still incredibly difficult to witness when it's someone that you know and care about, even if the care you have is more abstract theory than anything else. The last time I talked with him - about a month ago, I believe - he seemed his usual self: whip smart, sarcastic, and eager to get off the phone*. I am having a very hard time dealing with the fact that this man, as socially awkward as he is, is gradually losing a lot of his freedoms because of things he can't control.

Basically, now that my grandfather has had his right to drive taken from him, my mom and her brothers face a dilemma: what do they do now? I can't even imagine what's going through their minds. They all have complicated relationships with their father - not bad or strained, necessarily, but ... different - and there's a ton of responsibility, regardless of who takes on the mantle of caretaker. It doesn't help that they haven't been able to speak to Grandpa about it, since he's sort of in a sedated haze right now. Everything is speculation right now, which is just making it that much harder.

Of course, my mother decides to bring up their living will in the midst of all of this, which just makes me cringe. It's not like I don't know that they aren't going to live forever; they're human beings and we all have an expiration date. That doesn't mean that I enjoy talking about having to make medical and financial decisions for my parents when the time comes, if ever. My mom made it clear that she wants to be cremated and then have her remains buried with my dad (I'm assuming this is if they die together because um, no, Mom, I'm not digging up Dad to put you in his casket if statistics keep you living longer than he does). I guess this is what I have to look forward to now that I've crested into my thirties. My parents are in their sixties now** and probably have about another twenty years, maybe more. I just never expected all of this to hit me and come out of nowhere: Mrs. Carroll, my high school teacher, died, Mamaw had a stroke, Grandpa got into a wreck after having another episode ... I don't want my life to be just one story of death or dying after another, where I'm on Facebook asking for happy thoughts to be sent my way. It's a reality of life, I know, but that doesn't make this any easier.

For now, I'm going to focus on sending as many good vibes as I can toward my grandfather in Virginia. And I'm going to call Mamaw and ask her to tell me another story about growing up on her farm in Kentucky. And I'm going to relish the time I have with my family and friends as much as I can. I guess that's all I can do.

* I'm with you there, Grandpa. I hate phones. Like, actively hate. I'd rather text or email and then talk in person. Three figured out fairly quickly that my tone changes after about, oh, three minutes into a phone conversation and understood that I was kind of over talking but selflessly pushing through. My mom has yet to figure this out (love you, Mom).
** Dad is officially 60 and Mom is 58, but she considers herself 60 already for some reason. She enjoys getting her senior citizen discount at Cracker Barrel. /shrugs

Pet Peeve #12307

Okay, guys, I'm a nerd. This is not something that I hide or forget to mention. It was actually one of the first things I told Three when we went on our first date, in addition to the various issues that had ended previous relationships*. When I meet Fellow Nerds, I am, more often than not, delighted, particularly if we are interested in the same things. I love hearing about other people's fandoms, even if I don't share them, but there's just something about geeking out with others with similar tastes that makes it that much more fun. Extrapolation from source material is always a blast to discuss, and it's hard to find a nerd who doesn't have at least one fan theory that changes how you may look at something.

For instance, Mass Effect. I have my own ideas as to what goes on in Shepard's head, which is kind of the point of the game. For instance, in one of my play-throughs, my FemShep (who had seen her entire squad die in a thresher maw attack at the beginning of her military career) had fallen in lust with Kaiden Alenko but was forced to leave him to set off the nuke on Virmire, and after she (spoiler alert) died and was resurrected at the beginning of the second game, she decided she wasn't going to wait to declare her love for someone and chose Garrus, her long-time comrade. She continued the relationship into Mass Effect 3 because it was obvious that his loyalty and dedication to her hadn't wavered and because it was obvious that they were perfect for each other: life-long servicemen with a penchant for bending the rules. See? Most of what actually is in that comes from inside my head; it's not explicitly stated in the game, but it was a feeling that I got when I saw her make choices and actions. And that's what made me love the game and assert that it is probably one of the best games ever created.

But it's also a lot of fun to bitch about parts of your favorite stories (games, comics, books, movies, etc.) that make no sense, were poorly executed, didn't have as much thought as was necessary. I don't consider it a betrayal; it's not about attacking or tearing them down, leaving nothing but your exceptionally sad soul to stare at the pieces that remain. It's important to approach these things objectively, and most of the time, it make me appreciate whatever I'm watching/playing/reading even more. Going back to Mass Effect, I found that the treatment of Thane, particularly if you romanced him in the second game, was kind of insensitive to the character. Like, okay, you get it on in ME2, which actually is a pretty emotional scene:

"Thane, be alive with me tonight." 

Their relationship is actually pretty solid, and I was really looking forward to the continuation of it into ME3. When they're reunited on the Citadel, FemShep and Thane (hilariously) start making out in the middle of the hospital (even after she's all, "You want to get outta here and spend some time alone?" /eyebrowwiggle), and afterward, he lets her know that he's not in the physical condition necessary to help her out on her mission to unite the galaxy against the Reapers (or to have sex again. ever). Then he helps save the salarian councilor from Kai Leng but dies in the process. Okay, this I didn't have a problem with, since, hey, it's war: shit happens. But then ... nothing**. You can even start a new romance if you'd like. Shep is all, "Oh, well, he died. Better not grieve or anything." It left me feeling a little cheated and didn't fit the character I had played with for three games***.

Finally, here's where we get to my pet peeve. I try to actively engage people on the praise and criticism of their favorite anything. If you think that I'm being a little too hard on certain aspects, I have no issue with you pointing that out to me. Having good-natured arguments about our takes on things isn't a bad thing, but when somebody starts to interject their head-canon as absolute fact, and I am stupid for not agreeing with them? Yeah, you're about to get a giant middle finger from me, and most likely, I'm not going to talk to you about anything substantial ever again. Example (and actual conversation):

Me: I noticed between the first [Mass Effect] game and the second that Tali's name was pronounced differently. It was Tah-lee first and then Ta-lee next. I mean, I guess it's kind of like how Dodonna in A New Hope pronounced Leia's name as Leah, but still.

Person: Tali just finally got enough balls to say, "Nope, you say my name Ta-lee."

Me: Maybe? (furrows brow) It's a possibility. 

Person: That has to be what happened. Otherwise, it makes no sense.

Me: (joking) You may be thinking a little too much about this.

Person: Hey, you brought it up.

Me: Wait. Are you seriously angry about this?

Person: (getting more and more irate) Look, all I'm saying is, the writers didn't mess up here. 

Me: I didn't say that. All I said was -

Person: You don't have to shit all over this great piece of work.

Me: Um ... I'm going to go ... do something ... over there.

This conversation, sadly, didn't end there. After that point, every single time I started talking about anything that was related to anything, up to and including the fact that I found the Star Wars prequels to be universally awful****, I was accosted by this guy's head-canon. And it wasn't even a conversation I was having with him; he just jumped in and started yelling at me. I'm very open-minded, almost to a fault, when it comes to the interpretation of art, no matter what the medium+, and I expect the same courtesy from everyone else. Maybe that's naivete speaking; I don't know. But from now on, I am pretty much avoiding that guy and anyone else who is just being a dick. Don't be a dick, people. It rarely gets you anywhere, at least with me.

* I'm not even joking here. I went down a list, point by point, with the idea that, if I got it all out in the open, we'd both make sure we weren't wasting our time. We'd both been in several long-term relationships (he had been married for eight years), and I was just done with casual dating. Thankfully, he found my candid reveal refreshing, and almost four years after we said "I do" in front of the county clerk, we're still going strong. 

** Unless you download the Citadel DLC. There you get to have a wake for Thane, which I guess is a kind of closure? 

*** I also get that this game is basically a more complicated choose-your-own-adventure book. You can only have so many options programmed into the game, or else you're going to have about 10982364786234 discs (and even then, you'd miss one story). Ain't nobody got that kind of money. Well, maybe somebody does, but I prefer not to think about that.

**** I didn't realize that there were people who defended these movies. I mean, I think I recognized this academically, but it was really shocking when I came across him. 

+ Hell, I don't even judge people who like what I consider to be bad:  Twilight and its fan-fiction response piece, 50 Shades of Gray, Jem and the Holograms, etc. I have a soft spot for Surf Ninjas, a movie that cannot be considered anything but simple martial arts fluff.