Five Years Ago Today

Five Years Ago Today we got the news from the doctors that Alice was out of danger and we could take her home. After three weeks in St. Louis Children's hospital, countless tests, spinal taps, blood draws, pick lines, specialists, days and nights of not knowing what was wrong with our precious girl, fearing after we did know just what might be the long term consequences of her illness. After days and nights both alone and shared. I will never forget the rush of relief and fear at hearing that tomorrow, we could go home. Just in time for Christmas.
    There is a special kind of desolation that sets in, thinking about spending your daughters very first Christmas inside the hospital. Even a hospital like Children's, where Santa had already made his rounds and they graciously accommodated my many deliveries of Christmas gifts, and wrapping them. Where no one looked twice at me when I ordered sugar cookies with every meal, where the wall paper was brightly colored and the nurses were incredible, it's still a hospital. And a hospital is no place for a child at Christmas. And I experienced a peculiar elation mixed with guilt that we got to go home.

Four Years Ago Today things were bad. Her dad and I were still trying to make it work, but it was just a slow crawl into the romantic graveyard and we both knew it. But at Christmas, we came together, supported each other as we both relived that last year in our own way. As our now one year old lost her patience entirely with opening gifts. And I was so grateful for everything, the crowded room, the crying child and all of it. Because this year we weren't anywhere near a hospital and we had begun to have our fears put to rest that there would be any long term effects from her brush with mortality. And I felt a slow joy.

Three Years Ago Today things were getting better. Her dad and I were no longer together. But we were still a united pair. And while the Christmas music still grated on my nerves and our girl still had literally zero patience for all of her gifts, I was reminded again of how lucky we were to be celebrating a third Christmas with her. And I knew that he was too.

Two Years Ago Today her dad and I lived in separate houses. But on Christmas Eve I spent the night at his house because we never wanted to make her choose or travel between us on the holidays. Coming back into the house we once shared on that night was a singular experience. Like reentering a soundless room when you've spent a week immersed in music. I was nervous and angry and petulant. But I was excited too. Excited to once again be celebrating Christmas. To laugh at our girl when she threw her hands up in frustration and began to pitch a fit because there were just too many presents to open and she wanted nothing more than to play with her gifts that were already open. Even with all the angst and the pain I was feeling, I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

One Year Ago Today I was coming to terms with the idea of new woman in her life. Another mother figure that I was beyond unhappy about. And I was angry again upon entering a house that had once been my home, but was now the domain of another.  So far gone was the life that I has imagined and counted on. It would never exist. But still we wrapped gifts and laughed together, still her dad and I were friends. Parents and friends. We had a tie that would always be, and the best part of what we had once shared was sleeping soundly in her room down the hall, dreaming of Santa and wishing for her Jack blanket. Santa delivered that Jack blanket and she still lost her patience with the sheer amount of gifts that were for her. A number that will never diminish because she is the pinnacle of our lives, and we all feel it at Christmas, how close we came to losing her before we ever got to do this. So it's alright if she gets frustrated and impatient because she's here, with us, where she belongs.

Today we are well settled in our lives of two houses. We are still planning to celebrate Christmas as we always do, in the same house, with as many presents as we can stuff around her. With stories and songs and family and laughter and at least one horrible fight, because the stress always gets to us and I don't think we help it. But the important thing is, she is here. And every year when I look back at where we were, and what could have happened. When I realize again and feel the horror of that unknowing and oh so necessary hospital stay and all that it put us through. When I look at my daughter dancing with no ill effects from her CMV, I am both grateful and terrified, because I have her and I know the fear of losing her all too well. With all the things that have been and will continue to change as she grows and her dad and I pursue our lives I am comforted by one thing. No matter what happens at this time of year we will come together as a family to celebrate not just the holiday, but the continued existence of our incredible daughter.

Please Stop.

Dear Feminists/Gay Rights/ Diversity activists.

Enough already.  I am all for equality. I believe that woman should have the same pay rates and rights as men do. I believe that homosexuality should not be a reason to be denied services or marriage rights. I believe in embracing different cultures and making judgments based on a persons character rather than their dermis. So don't get me wrong. I'm all for what you are lobbying for. I get it. I do. Really.

But here is what I need from you. Stop messing with my movies/TV shows/Plays/Musicals/Comic Books ect.

Little Orphan Annie was written as a red headed white girl. In the great depression there were plenty of kids in poverty and kids in orphanages of every race, but that story was written about a little white girl. There is nothing wrong or offensive in that. The recent remake, with the time update and the racial changes and all of that....seriously, why? There was nothing wrong with the original script. Leave it alone.

Roadhouse is one of my favorite movies. Ghostbusters is right up there too. They do not need to be remade with women stars. Leave them alone. Rhonda Rousey is not going to make Roadhouse better. The all girl Ghostbusters cast is not going to be better than the original. So leave it be.

I have nothing against strong female leads. I have nothing against people of different races staring in movies. What I am against is the bastardization of the original source materials. If the role is written for a white male, cast a white male. If it is written for an Indian woman, cast an Indian woman, if it is written for a transgender male that is bisexual and adores chuck berry, then cast someone that suits that role! If an actor is not comfortable playing a transgender bisexual then they shouldn't be up for the role in the first place.

Case in Point: James Bond- this character is British white male. Therefore he should be played by a British white male (or if not British at least a white guy that can do the accent) He should not be Scots (Sorry Sean Connery, you're great and all, but I would not have cast you if you couldn't change your accent) he should not be Russian or American,  he should not be black or Indian or Asian ( Idris Elba is seriously talented, I would love to see him more leading roles, just not this one). He should be cast in same way that he was written.

There is an enormous amount of untapped, great new literature out there right now. Our culture is changing, embracing the diversity of our world (albeit slower than most people think it should be) so just let it change. You can't change the actuality of history, even if you rewrite the textbooks and remake all the movies, things still happened as they did. We still lived in the world we lived in and erasing that from entertainment, from books, from movies, is just trying to wipe it out. Not every movie has to be perfect, not every piece of entertainment has to be making a huge feminist statement.  And so much of our culture is beautiful art that shows how we were at the time the films were made, what we valued and what we celebrated.

So what I am saying, is just move forward. Open up the untapped fountain of female super heroes (seriously, there are so many, there is really no need to genderbend the guys) Turn books written with gay protagonists into blockbuster hits, write original TV with straight, gay, white, black, Asian, whatever people in it and move on.

Just leave what has been done alone. Seriously. Please. I'm begging you.

Sincerely,
Me.

A Terrifying Note

A Terrifying Note

        Elise woke abruptly, blinking and damp with sweat.  She shook herself awake and was startled to find her hair was dripping; it smacked her face loudly and left a mark of perspiration. She took a deep breath and let her eyes adjust to the comforting dark of her bedroom, something felt different, and she reached over to her bedside table and flipped on the lam. Her hand flew back to her throat as she let out a sharp gasp, eyes wide in her face as she took in her vanity table, which instead of sitting upright on the floor was now on top of her dresser at an angle, her makeup and hair accessories still perfectly in place. She closed her eyes, thinking she must still be dreaming.  The loud crash of her vanity falling over and all of its contents spilling out snapped her eyes back open and she screamed. The vanity settled itself back into it’s usually position, the mirror was foggy, like someone had breathed on it, and there was a perfect circle with a line through its center in the fog.  She sat frozen with fear and watched as the image faded with the fog. When it was gone, she let out a choked breath that rapidly became hysterical sobbing. She cried until she fell again to an exhausted sleep.

        She came to in the middle of the morning, and groaned. She had overslept, and she had a headache from the crying. She peered at her vanity, it looked like it should, and all of her make-up was back where it belonged. Slowly, she rose from her bed, relieved that her t-shirt fell away for her skin and did not cling wetly as she had feared it would. Taking a deep breath, she was reassured by the clean smell of the air, she went to look at her vanity. Everything was indeed back in its place, but all of her compacts were broken, every eye shadow was full of cracks, her lipsticks appeared to have melted out of their tubes. Hot tears welled in her brown eyes, it must have really happened. She ran from the room, and relieved her roiling stomach in the kitchen sink. Outside of her bedroom, things seemed calmer. She let the normalcy of her kitchen wash over her as the water ran her own mess down the drain.  She knew she would have to go back in there, her clothes were in that room, her cell phone was charging by her bed, and her bathroom was also back there. Fuck. She would put it off as long as she could and have some breakfast.

        As long as she could turned out to be about twenty minutes, she was cold, she had to pee and she needed to check in with her boss. She stood in the door frame, mentally chiding herself for being afraid to go in. She had had a freaky dream, nothing more.  She clenched her first and quick-stepped through the room, grabbing her cell phone from the table and the suit she had pulled out the night before from the closet hook, not looking at her vanity, she entered the bathroom and shut the door.  She arrived at work just after eleven in the morning, made her excuses and lost herself in the work, by the time she left for the day, she had forgotten all about the weird dream and the weird morning. A few after work drinks with friends turned into dancing until the bar closed, and when she returned home she sank into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

        The next morning was Saturday, and Elise had a date. She took her time getting ready, soaking in a long, hot bath laced with oils, before showering and washing out her strawberry blonde curls. She sat wrapped in robe and towel at her vanity and began to select her makeup. She noted that none of it was broken, and smiled to herself. She opened her favorite blush and froze; there was a perfect circle with a line across the center etched into the compacted powder. She shivered. Staring at the blush, the symbol seemed familiar to her, not just from her crazy dream the other night either. She decided on a different shade and threw the blush in her trash can. She was not going to get caught up in a stupid nightmare.

        They went to a jazz club downtown, Elise fell in love with the place instantly, it was a smoky, old school, piano bar kind of joint. The bartender was smooth and knowledgeable, the tables were comfortable and not too crowded, the food was incredible and the music! The music was out of this world, Roger danced with her and she found herself laughing and being pulled up on stage to sing with the band. She was terrible, but the crowd was gracious and she felt elated as she walked off stage. The Maître D handed her a copy of the sheet music for the song she had sang (Someone to Watch Over Me) and she saw a perfect circle with a line through the center, hanging out just belong the bottom line of the staff. Her skin flooded with goose flesh and she felt dizzy. She remembered the piano ringing out the note for her to start on, key of “c” they had said.  Dimly she registered a ringing in her ears, the C note; she recognized it, as the sound became louder and steadier inside her head.

        “Elise? Are you alright? You look like you’re going to be sick?” Rogers’s solicitations snapped her back to reality

        “I’m fine, Roger. Just, I think it’s time you took me home.” was all she said

        Back in her apartment, Elise was frozen in the hallway, hands pressed to her head as the ringing note pulsed, and getting louder to the point she thought she couldn’t bear it before it subsided and she remembered to breathe and then it grew again. She moaned, leaning on the wall for support. Her body trembled with each pulse of sound, and she whispered “Please.” over and over again, pleading with her head, with her apartment, with God, with the dead, with anything she could think of, whether she believed in it or not, to make the ringing stop. Finally, it subsided into a dull aching ring and she fell to her knees and crawled to her bed, burying her face in her pillow.

        Her dreams were intense, she moaned in pleasure and her body moved in response. A hand ran up her thigh, lightly touching, leaving her skin tingling with anticipation, hot breath grazed over the skin of her neck and she arched her back, sharp nails made teasing trails over spine and then dug in. Her eyes popped open and she felt like she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear herself. The ringing started again, and the sharp nails drove deeper into her skin, blood welled and ran out of the wounds, the fingers began to move apart, widening the punctures, impossibly wide. She thrashed against the bed, searching frantically for her attacker, but she saw no one. The blood was pooling underneath her now and she became aware that the stabbing had stopped. She gasped, and was relieved to hear the sound. It was a momentary reprieve, as the nails now dug into her stomach; she looked down at the nothing that was tearing her open. Her skin was being peeled back, layer by layer, and her voice was gone again. Her face was twisted in pain and terror, but she couldn’t stop watching.  She felt a sharp tug on her feet and her stare moved reflexively to look. She saw that her legs were twitching uncontrollably and her toes were being licked by a long red tongue. She could see the tongue, but not the face it belonged to.  She registered that there must be more than one thing attacking her, there was no way anything could have a face at her feet and hands at her stomach. She looked back to her middle and could see her intestines now, and her ribs. The thing was tapping on her ribs; she felt the dull thudding of it colliding with her bone and then a sharp pain as the rib snapped, falling away from her sternum, she screamed silently and the tears that had never stopped, redoubled in her pain. With each break she convulsed, and she wondered why she was still awake, why hadn’t she passed out or died already? She felt a mouth on her neck, kissing her up onto her jawline, the pleasure of the kisses shocked her, could she really be enjoying that while she was being ripped apart? The mouth covered her and she felt it sucking on her, pulling the air from her lungs until they burned, and her body rocked again, her final rib cracked away and her breasts deflated, a hand tugged them back up and her nipples hardened under the touch. She felt betrayed by her body as the pleasure centers activated, and her hips rocked, then the hands released her she felt her breasts flop down onto her lungs, deprived of the protection and support of her rib cage, the pain was beyond anything she had felt so far, dull but fierce and completely new. The things laid her gently back on the bed, into the congealing blood on the sheets, she felt three mouths kiss her, one on the mouth, on the thigh and the other on her vulva. And then they were gone, the ringing in her ears returned.  She saw briefly a flash of three faces, twisted and rotten, before she heard her radio click on and a perfect circle with a line through it was drawn on her ceiling, in her blood. As she took her final breaths and sank out of consciousness into death she heard the song on the radio

There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he, turns out to be, someone to watch over me….

Why I Didn't Go Rainbow

 Our country has taken a huge step in equality this week, (It could be argued as either forward or backward depending on you view history) and I fully support the change.  I also love the flood of support I have seen from the majority of people and I haven't been overly vocal. I feel like my friends, particularly my LGBT friends deserve to know why my response has been so reserved. The answer is I've never really thought it should be a big deal.  I've put a lot of thought in how to say this and what I've come up with is:

All discrimination should die quietly and without acknowledgement for its existence.

I firmly believe that statement.

In photography, before the digitalization, almost all pictures were developed from a negative. When that began to change, the change was celebrated, but no one threw a huge party celebrating the death of the negative. Instead it was relegated down to the place it needed to be, where it was still relevant while the positive change was focused on and improved.

That is how I feel it should be with social change as well. Now, the photography metaphor is not perfect, you can blow a lot of holes in it. I am aware. But the spirit of it works.

I look at the history of discrimination and I see these big rallies, these big protests, this huge media presence and I see where change has been made on the surface of society and in the law books but not in the actual roots of the people.  I can't help but wonder if maybe part of the reason it hasn't died is because we have so sensationalized the death of it. Why should anyone give up their bigotry when they can stand on an age old prejudice and get so much attention. Not all of it damning.

In my personal experience, the changes that stick, the ones that really happen are changes I have made without fanfare or announcements. I have quietly killed the negative parts of my life and moved on to a better and happier existence. And I suppose it could be wishful thinking that quiet change could take hold on a massive scale, but I've seen what can happen when friends, neighbors and families have open dialogue, intelligent discourse and compassionate exchanges. Real change happens communities pull tog ether this way.

Real change happens quietly.

Being quiet does not mean ignoring the problem. Just to be clear.

But celebrating the death of discrimination and other negative aspects of society with so much pomp and circumstance seems to me to be feeding the problem instead of actually solving it.

Think of it as good sportsmanship. If you need anything to make it more palatable for you. Or just ignore me, after all this is simply my opinion and my stance.

Just understand that my quiet celebration is a way for me to pay the highest respect to the change that I so desperately wanted. But it is fight that never should have happened, it should not have been necessary and the sooner we start treating it as the norm and making changes in our social circles, changes that do not require glaring announcements ect. the sooner we can have the norm that we should have had all along.

Why aren't you married?

Lately, I've been asked this question or a variation of it (why don't you have boyfriend, etc) with an alarming frequency. I'm assuming it's because I'm now 30 and therefore my STILL SINGLE neon sign has begun flashing. Because all women over 30 have those. Usually this question is met with an eye roll, or silence or an exasperated "because I am."

As tempting as it is to turn the tables on this question and be continually offended by it, and whine about it and give platitudes about "refusing to settle" and " I have just haven't met him yet" I decided to give the question some thought. And the answer I've come up with may be a little startling at first, but here it is.

Why aren't I married?
Because I'm looking for more than love.

Wait, what?

Yep. I am looking for more than love. To be honest, love is pretty low on the list, because love is a chemical reaction between two people. Love is wonderful. Don't get wrong, I want love. But there are things I want more out of a marriage.

Things like: Friendship. Compatibility. Trust. Great Conversation. Stability. Sexuality. Passion.

When you add all of those things together, they are the parts that make up love, right? No.
You can love people you don't even like. Oddly enough. You can love people that you have no desire to be with sexually.

And the truth is, I've been in love. I've been completely shattered by love, broken down and put in "my place" by love. Or to be more specific through people that I loved, people that claimed to love me but did not. I've experienced the highs of being in love before it all came crashing down and I get why that seems to be the motivator for most people, but when you get right down to it, falling in love is easy.

Marriage is not easy.
Friendship is not easy.
Maintaining a relationship for a long time with a person and keeping it going in a way the positively benefits your life and the life of the other person. That is work. Hard work. Grueling work (some days). Rewarding work. Worth the work.

So, since love is easy, I'm not looking for that. I'm looking for real. I'm looking for hard. I'm looking for all the things I listed above, because I deserve all of that, and so does the person I'm with.

Stepping into a volatile conversation

It’s Sexual Assault Awareness time. And yes, I’m going to jump down that rabbit hole with this post, so consider yourself warned.  There are a myriad of topics to discuss here, from male victims to “rape culture” ( I despise that phrase) but instead of pointing out all the symptoms, I’m just going to go straight to the root of the problem, which is that people see other people as property.  Take a second here to note that I said people, not men, not boys, not assholes, not rapists, not women, bitches, whores or girls: People.

I recently shared a post on my personal Facebook page; many of you have seen it:  a woman wrote a post entitled The Anatomy of Rage and I felt it very accurately described my frustration with the state of society today. Now this article is specifically regarding the way men treat women, so that is going to be the focus of this post. Please bear in mind as you read this:  I do not believe that men are the problem just because they are men, women are just as much a part of this problem as men. I firmly believe this to be true and will probably do a follow up post on that very subject sometime in the future.

So, the post I shared talked about the experiences of this woman as she has gone through different scenarios in her life and the inappropriate comments and touching she has endured at the hands of her male colleagues/friends/acquaintances and even strangers.  Reading her words I was struck by the similarity of my own experiences. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times a man has touched me without my consent or sent me sexual pictures or text messages or whispered in my ear. In college there was a guy that was constantly sneaking up behind me to smell my hair, other people took note of it happening, but no one did anything about it, and let me tell you, if you have never experienced that, it is creeptastic.

                Chances are these men that have invaded my personal space and violated my being are in actuality nice men who just don’t know any better. They think the behavior is ok because as a society we teach a basic lack of respect for other people. We portray people as property, as objects, as things to be desired and touched and bought.  And women have gone along with it, for centuries.  We have created our own problems by waiting so long to speak out, and then by being resentful when we are offered protection or help from a man.  It creates a double edged sword for any man trying to change the norm.  So, what gives ladies? How is a man supposed to make a positive change if we react negatively?  A man is not disrespecting you if he sees you are being hassled and he steps up to make sure you are alright, so don’t bite his head off. It’s not a statement that you can’t take care of yourself; it’s a human being providing support to another human being. Now, if that guy then starts hassling you himself, well, that’s a whole new problem, but the chances of that happening are pretty slim.

                Going back to the post I shared, I was for the most part, pleasantly surprised by the comments it received. Most people were just as appalled as I was, but predictably, there was one person who missed the point. I purposely did not respond to that person in detail, wanting to see how my friends, my male friends in particular would handle it.  I was disappointed that they didn’t step up at all.  It was pointed out to me that my friends know me and I generally stand up for myself and they may not want to be seen as stepping on my toes or disrespecting my post (a thing I appreciate) but that is not always the case and guy friends, I do not mind at all you speaking out, just for future reference.  What I did get though, were private messages from people explaining how incredulous they were at this one person’s comments. And that was cool, but, it was also unhelpful.  Bolstering the “victim” is wonderful, it lets them know they aren't alone, they are supported, they are valued, and rebuild confidence, all good. Except, now when the “victim” displays themselves confidently, the person that “victimized” them learns nothing, in fact they are positively reinforced for their behavior. It’s a strange thought to wrap your head around. I know.  So instead of just bolstering the victim, speak out to the assailant, educate, not attack. We can’t keep attacking people for acting in the way they have been taught to act.  Because talk about mixed signals.  Education is the key to prevention, so instead of “Hey you’re a pig and you deserve to die!” try having a reasonable conversation. Explain why what the person did was disrespectful, and don’t be a dick about it unless that becomes necessary. Because unfortunately, sometimes it is necessary to be a dick about it.

                You may be reading this and thinking, wow, this is confusing. That’s because it is. It’s a tough subject to tackle, it seems like it should be black and white. Except it’s not. It’s not black and white because we have been taught that people are objects to be admired and possessed. We have to change what we teach in order to affect change in the actions of society.  There is not a perfect solution for those of us caught in the middle of this mess. We can fight for reform to make things better for our kids, but the sad reality is that we have to deal with the ingrained education of the society we live in presently too.   And the present society is not a society for people; it is a society for masters and subjects.  We have to shift the focus back, away from sex and weight and money, and instead look at health and relationships and how to actually have a life.  We have to end the culture of extremism, because is it so incredibly damaging   and we have to stop expecting men to take all the blame for this. Education, not emasculation.  That is how we really make a change.

As I watch the world fall

              It's been awhile since I have updated this blog. A lot has changed in my life and in the world since I last spoke out this way, I can't tell you if I will update more regularly in the future, but I would like to think I will. Lately, I have been working on a book I have coming out next month. These last two days I have found myself staring at the manuscript, unable to type anything that works, and tonight I think I know why. It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's that what I need to say is something much bigger than the story I'm telling in that book.

          Today, twelve people were murdered in the name of a god. Twelve people. Over a joke. Because someone was offended by what they had to say. Because someone was convinced that their god would be so offended by the mere pen-strokes of a mortal man. Twelve people are now gone from this world. This is an indefensible act,  but still it happened, and there are people who will try to defend it. They will try to defend it and they will probably succeed. Why?

BECAUSE WE HAVE ALLOWED THIS TO BECOME THE NORM.

         You read that right. The people of the world have allowed themselves to becomes so concerned with what offends them, with what might offend someone else, with what is "wrong" with the world and the people in it that we will sit back and allow ourselves to be, murdered, to be brainwashed, to be "fixed". But I refuse to be one of those people anymore. I set myself apart from the world and the people that inhabit it today. I want no part of it. I want no part of you.

       Some of you will read that sentence and think that what follows will be a words praising the god of Christianity. You would think this because I have always believed it. I have always professed it. I have always given it credence. Those of you who have known me my entire life, I apologize to you. For I have mislead you in my need for acceptance, forgiveness and atonement, I have allowed myself and you to believe that I truly was a follower of this god. I am not. I have never truly been. I only recently allowed myself to consider this, but it is true. I do not believe in god.

       I do not believe in any god, religion, being, organization, government or person that preaches love but practices violence, aggression, submission, slavery or forced inequality. Period. And I am not sorry for that. I am also not looking to be saved or evangelized or reborn. So please, don't waste my time.

              That leaves the question of what do I believe in? The truth is I'm not sure. I'm not convinced there is a "higher power" out there beyond the universe itself.  I believe that the human mind is a powerful tool that we all waste. I believe that the more we forget about our past, the more we doom our future. I believe in hard work and timing and true love. I believe in the power of words and the power of the individual. I believe in myself.

           Some of you reading this will be a little saddened by my declaration. I am sorry to cause you pain. Some of you will be offended by my words. I will not apologize for that. One day I may write about all the things that are going on in this world that offend me. But really, no one cares about that. And why should they? Why should any of you care what offends me anymore than I should care about what offends you?

            What happened today is not only on the hands of the men who wielded the weapons. It is on the hands of everyone that taught them to do what they did. It falls on the heads of men and women who throughout history have committed similar acts in the names of gods or men and have been hailed for it as heroes. The blame falls on us all.

             Twelve people are dead. I cannot change what happened today, but I can teach my daughter to be better than the world is now. I can teach her to think for herself, to use her mind and not just her hands. I can do that.

               I can use my time to find the truth in things. I can seek solutions. I can look past the masks of the masses and find the people lost in the fray.

               So can you.

A question or two

If he is going to be breaking your heart for the rest of the life, don't you think you should have stayed? At least then you would still be able to screw him too.

An Honest list of Qualities I look for in a man

Every woman has her list of things she wants in a guy, whether she admits it or not, and usually those lists are full of odd Disney references, fantasy ideals and traits that would actually make the man one that they literally could never coexist with.  So, after a rather emotional day that has concluded with me reminding myself of all the things that didn't work with my ex, I thought "Hey, let's make a list of thing I look for in a guy" then as I read the list, I was like, "wait. this guy already exists, and he's my ex for a reason, so maybe I should be a bit more honest with myself". The following is the list I came up with.


1.) You must be willing to clean, like deep clean, it would be best if you enjoyed doing it. Because I suck at cleaning and I kind of hate doing it. Another alternative would be that you are open to hiring a maid.

2.) I like gaming, and hanging out with guys. So let me be part of your circle and don't renege on it. I don't expect to be invited to everything, but really, not many girls in my area actually like doing the things that I like and I like to game: MTG, DND, Video and Board varieties.

3.) Be secure enough to understand that most of my friends are guys, accept that about me, get to know my friends and don't judge the relationships I have. I have them for a reason and they are extremely important to me, so take the fact that I choose to be with you and not with them as confirmation that you are who I want.

4.) Be a reader. Seriously, and while I would prefer some overlap in Authors/Genres it's not really required.

5.) Probably one the most important things on my list is come prepared to deal with my recent past, which include my incredible daughter and her dad. I am never going to put her second to anyone, and her dad and I may not have worked out, but he is an incredible dad to her and he is around and part of my life and will be a part of most major decisions while my daughter is growing up.

6.) Laugh a lot.

7.) Be willing to reassure me with physical contact, even when you're angry or we're fighting. It's bad enough to be fighting, if you refuse to touch me, I promise you, I will think you don't want me anymore and I will stop trusting you.

8.) Have a job, a car, and a place to live.

9.) Take me to midnight movies

10.) Be adventurous, I want to travel and do things other people might call (and have called) crazy, be willing to do them with me.

This list is not in any real order of importance because none of them are more important than any of the other of them, except for 5. That one is pretty damned important. Anyway, just my thoughts.  Carry on.

My truth about Valentines Day and why I really hate it

Growing up in my house was such an amazing thing. As an adult with a daughter from a failed love, I realize how much effort my parents put into each other. How much they chose every day to love each other through everything, through the fighting and the hardships and the children and the history.  My mother brought all the love in the world to our house, but this post is going to focus on my father.

My dad set the bar high for Valentines Day. Not because he always bough fancy/expensive/extravagant gifts (although he did that a couple of times) because he usually didn't. It was because he paid attention to the people he loved and made an effort to fill a need for them. Even a frivolous one, like my Junior year of high school, when I had exactly four real friends, and no guy had looked at me twice in weeks (at least not that I knew about) and I was surrounded by people who were definitely about to get stuff. My dad sent me flowers and balloons to school that year. It is the only time in my life that I have received flowers that way, and it was pretty special. I knew they were from my dad even if the card did read " Your Secret Admirer". I wasn't fooled, but I got to pretend I didn't know, I got to show them to my friends and laugh with them and let them tell me who they just knew had sent them. My dad gave me more than flowers that day, he gave me the ability to not feel left out. At a time in my life when I desperately needed it. And that is the only Valentines Day I really have fond memories of.
Since then I have either been single or alone on Valentines Day. The few years I have not been single, he was working, so we had to celebrate some other time, which shouldn't matter. But, it does. And those memories are tainted now, and the failure is too new to let them be anything but bitter. But even when they get to be something good again, they still fell short. Because no person has ever paid enough attention to me to give me the things I truly crave this time of year. And each year the things I want change, but the reason I hate this holiday, is not because it is a "fake" day for people to pretend to be in love, or some other drivel. It is because this day has always completely disappointed me ever since I left my childhood behind. I do not feel loved on this day, I do not feel wanted, no card or dinner or gift has ever filled that void in me.
It's not like I don't love myself, I do. But I am honest enough with myself and in turn you, to acknowledge that on this day, of all days, like every one else, I long to be truly loved by someone else and even when I was in love, I never really felt that completeness.

Round 17....

Oh the horrors of Post Apocalyptic Serious Breakup dating....

1. You really thought you were so grown up-
              until you saw the first attractive guy you've been truly allowed to notice in years. Suddenly, you're a giddy pre-teen idiot and you have to talk yourself out of following him around the grocery store. And it only gets worse

2. You can't remember all the things you've forgotten about men-
              Especially when they start smiling at you, and you realize that you don't know what that smile means. And suddenly all of your newly renewed guy friendships are super suspicious. Crap. Are you being flirted with?

3.Speaking of flirting-
             You're pretty sure you have no idea to do it. That well-placed giggle, it probably looked more like a spasm. What exactly is supposed to be funny. Cat-eyes? Is that still an attractive thing? What are men looking for these days?

4. And, what are they looking at?-
              As you take inventory of every pound you gained in your relationship and where it landed on your body, every article of clothing becomes your enemy. You agonize over everything and end up in sweats because you can't stand to be looked at. So why are they still looking at you?

5. Because your GORGEOUS!!!-
           Damn right. You are a sexy, luscious,  goddess divine and any man would be lucky to be with you! (truth) And fat be damned, they will love you as you are, or just have to wish they had been smart enough to get you now instead of waiting for you to get back into that rocking bikini body.

6. Bikini! OMG! I must diet!-
          Because seriously, summer. Water. Men. Me. I MUST LOOK AS AMAZING AS I AM!!!!

7. So, off to the gym you go-
          and you realize you know, jack crap of nothing about using any of these odd devices that look like ancient machines of torture. So you walk, in circles, for a month, and then never come back.

8. And the guilt shows up-
          because you if you gave up on yourself, then WHY would anyone every date you again?

9. Again? Oh holy TARDIS of Galifrey-
           WHY am I so concerned with men? What have they ever done for me? Broke my heart. That's what. Screw men.

10. So you drink-
           and realize you still want to get laid on a pretty regular basis.  So, for that you definitely need a guy.

11. Stupid men.-

12. Well, if I'm going to do it-
           Then I might as well do it right and start looking for the right guy. Only how will I know when I find him. I mean, I thought I already had found him and now I can't tell if the guy giving me the eye is flirting or staring at some mysterious object that may or may not be stuck in my hair

13. MY HAIR!!!-
          I must change my hair. And suddenly, there I am. All fresh and new again. New confidence, new motivation. I LOVE ME!!!

14. I LOVE ME!!!-
          And if I love me, then everybody else can love me. And if everybody else can love me....

15. Then THAT GUY can too!!
           so you find yourself writing this new guys name over and over and over again. AND why does it always start like that? Why do you always turn into a ridiculous high-school girl with her first crush?

16. Crushed.-
         because what if he doesn't like me back?

17. Who cares?

I am a woman, and if you are a man, you should know this...

I don't need you to fix me. I don't want you to try, I don't need an answer to every question, sometimes it is good for me to cry. I do need you to hold me, I need to know you care. I need to know that when I turn to you, you will be there. I don't need you to clean up all of my messes, but it would be nice if you noticed when I fall to pieces. There is more to me than weakness, and more to me than strength, I need to know you hear me, I need to know my words make you think. I need you to not fear me, and to tell me what you need. I want you to be near me, and miss me when you're not. I want to know you think I'm beautiful, so it doesn't hurt when you think she's hot. I need you to make me laugh, especially when I'm mad, and it's okay to love me while I'm good, but don't keep me from occasionally being bad. Don't stop me from walking away, and don't try to force me to speak, I don't want to regret my words because I did not have to think. I need you to not yell at me, and not to call me names. I want you not to label me, and for you, I will try to do the same. When you teach me something new and it turns out that I enjoy it, don't take it away from me then, don't make me feel bad for wanting to join in. Don't ask about my past, it is mine to share when I am ready, and if we're being honest, know that I am selfish and petty. I don't care about your old girlfriends unless they are affecting my life, it is imperative you don't lead me on, don't let me think I could be your wife and then change your mind about what you want. Don't not kiss me when your angry, it makes me feel rejected, and realize that when you stop holding my hand, our relationship is affected. It is more important than ever, that you hug me when you don't want too, I need to know that when you don't like me, you can love me too. If you don't like what I'm wearing, and I ask you what you think, tell the truth and then remind me that I'm gorgeous anyway. Remember that I'm fragile, in your hands more than others, and it doesn't matter how long we have been friends or lovers, I am a woman, and you are a man, and it's important that at least some of these things, you try to understand.

A few tips for those with or soon to be getting Insurance

Ok, so let me be the first to understand that insurance is complicated. It has it's own set of words and definitions and it isn't always easy to understand. So what should you do when you are getting insurance? Well-Ask.

1.) Know your benefits. If you are going to the dr for any reason, call your insurance company and get your benefits quoted to you. Yes, your dr will also check, but you need to be informed. The best way to not get a nasty surprise, is to know what to expect.

2.) Understand that your insurance company has it's limits. There is to date, no standard pricing lists for medical services, your insurance company cannot tell you exactly what you will be paying when you go in for medical services

3.) Know the right way to ask your questions, so you get the answers you need. Call, go on your insurance website, whatever, but find out which dr is contracted with your insurance company before you see a dr. Find out how your insurance company deals with emergency treatments where you don't have a choice in who you see.

4.) Remember that each insurance company is bound by the laws of the state. If it is state law that a dr can bill you upfront for services, then they can. Your insurance company cannot do anything about it. So do your research and know the laws for your state.

5.) Set aside the time to contact your insurance company. If you have 15 minutes or less, it's not a good time to call. Plan ahead, be prepared to hold at some point in the call, understand that your plan is not the only plan that your insurance company handles and don't be nasty about it when your customer service rep needs to look deeper into your plan to answer your questions. It is better to be patient and get the answers you need than to get the wrong information or no information at all because you couldn't be bothered to plan ahead and call at a time when you could be patient

6.) Have your information when you call and enter it in the phone when it asks for it. Don't call in and say "Hi, this is sara, I have a general question..." There is no such thing as a general question when it comes to your insurance. All plans are specific. By entering your information when the horribly annoying automated system asks for it, you are 90% more likely to get to the right place the first time. The rep you are talking to will be able to pull up your info much faster and you will have a much better experience

7.) Know the terminology:
-Deductible: the amount of money that you are responsible to pay before your insurance will kick in on medical services not covered by preventative care laws or copays
-Copay: The set amount of money you pay up front for office visits, urgent care and emergency room. This does not count toward your deductible in most cases and only covers services that are part of the regular office visit, so paying a copay does not mean you will not anything else
-Coinsurance: This is amount of money you pay along with your insurance company. After your deductible is met, your insurance company will pay a certain percentage of your medical bills, say 80%. The remaining 20% is your responsibility and is called your coinsurance
-Out of Pocket Expense: This is the amount you will pay out of pocket after your deductible is met. It includes your coinsurance and in some cases your office copays
-Allowed Amount- This is the amount that your insurance company will pay for a service. If your dr is contracted with your insurance company(aka In Network) then they have to accept this amount and cannot bill you for any charges over that amount. IF however your dr is NOT contracted with your insurance company (aka Out of Network) then they can bill you for any charges over the allowed amount and your insurance company cannot do anything about it.
-In Network- contracted with your insurance company
-Out of Network- not contracted with your insurance company

There a lot of other terms, but those are the main ones that everyone should know. Basically what I am saying, is ask your questions ahead of time, and ask your insurance company, not your best friend or your agent or your doctor. The best way to be prepared is to be informed.

Character Obsessed

IDEA THIEF ALERT!

This blog idea was done first (at least first today) by SIL, check out her Blog of leading men and, please, comment with your own lists!

So, it has recently come to my attention that I am in face, not nearly alone in falling love with fictional men. I'm pretty sure I fall for a guy in every book/series I read, so my list is rather extensive. These guys are my tops:

1. The men of Harry Potter: Fred and George Weasley, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin and Bill Weasley.

I am putting them all in one section because they all come from the same world, even though they are very different.

Severus Snape- His passion and dedication for the woman he loves is beyond any other, and he played the most dangerous role of all to perfection. I just want to love him and make him smile again.

Remus Lupin- How can anyone not love Lupin? His gentle nature is so at odds with his condition, yet he carries himself with dignity, and never stops thinking of others. Always willing to go the extra mile, so incredibly smart and open. He is comfortable and safe, and strong.

Fred and George- Such serious clowns, these two. Their carefree demeanor is undermined by their achievements and ambition. I love that they are always laughing, no matter what life throws at them. Eternal optimists, amazing big brothers, hard working, charismatic, undeniable.

Bill Weasley- Hey Mrs. Weasley raised some amazing sons. Bill overcame his injuries and his familial objections to be with woman he loved. He loves adventure and a challenge and I love that in a man.
-------

2. Colonel Christopher Brandon, Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

Oh, Brandon, so reserved. So overlooked, but always there, always loyal, and generous. He is the man you were secretly rooting for the whole time when you read this book or watched this film/miniseries. The quintessential gentleman, soft spoken, well bred, yet tragically lonely. He won't settle for just any woman to sate his loneliness, he wants the right woman, and he doesn't rely on his status to get her for him. He is almost painfully unsure around Marianne, and his nervousness and patience really show his true nature. He is a deep well of hidden passions, a brave soul, with a thirst for the world and to fulfill his purpose. He is the perfect man.

3. Tony Stark-Ironman/TheAvengers-Marvel Comics

I love me some Tony stark. Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Witty, genius, suave, off the cuff. He is every dads nightmare. He is the guy you would never, ever, think of to save the world. He is selfish and egotistical, and always right (how annoying) but at the same time he really draws you in. He took the time to change the way he thought, to see the mistakes he made, and he put in the work to correct those mistakes. A man who not only knows when he is wrong, but ADMITS it AND works to put it right! How rare and exciting. He is the antihero, and he is sexy.

4. Finnick Odair-The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. 

Finnick is the perfect mix of Tony Stark and Colonel Brandon. He is sexy, charismatic and fun, but he is guarded and shy and deep. He overcomes everything to save his true love, to be with her, even if it was only for a few short weeks. The man is smart enough to know where the true value in his world is, how to stay safe, he is prepared to make painful sacrifices, and to help in any way he can. He seems vapid and shallow, but when you dig into him, you find out that he is the opposite and he is worth protecting.

5. Jasper Hale- Twilight Saga by Stephanie Meyers

Ok, ok, yes, Twilight is terrible. Jasper Hale however, is anything but terrible. He fought the life he was given, both times, to do what he felt was truly right. Finding the inner strength to overcome his circumstances, to relearn how to survive. He is adaptable, protective, loving, formidable, safe, and a true southern gentleman.

The rest of my top ten are:

Faramir-The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
LeStat De Lioncourt-The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice
Macon Ravenwood-Beautiful Creatures by Kami Garcia
Daryl Dixon-The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman
Jon Snow-Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

special mention to my almost top ten
Alex Karev-Greys Anatomy by Shondra Rhimes
Prince Caspian- The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis

and honestly, I could keep listing, but you would probably just get bored.

She told him with a little gesture he had never seen her use before. - John Updike

3 Minutes

She told him with a little gesture he had never seen her use before. He remembered how odd it had been, her laying her finger on her eye like that. The rest of those minutes were really very blurry, she collapsed, there was some twitching and a lot of blood. Someone screamed, her or him, maybe both of them. Her blue eyes just sort of winked out, he knew she couldn't see him anymore, couldn't hear him anymore, wouldn't speak to him anymore.  He knew it. He just didn't know why. 

The floor was sticky and slick, he fell, bouncing his head on the tiles. He had to get to her, that was all he knew. He called her name. She didn't answer. He knew she wouldn't. He smelled metal, but he couldn't figure out why. He slowly raised himself up on his arms pushing his way over the floor, feeling the liquid squish beneath him, hearing it squelching with every move. Nothing felt real. He knew what was going on, but he couldn't accept it. He refused to accept it, his mind was wrong, his eyes were wrong, his fingers were wrong, his nose was wrong. Everything was wrong. Everything.

Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, the salt in them was sticking to his skin, they were warm and cold at the same time. They hurt. 

His fingers kept slipping, the floor was so wet, and thick....Why was it so thick? It was the wrong color too, it should have been white, not black. And it was moving, in waves, little waves, like at the beach, each one slower and smaller than one before it. The smell of salt and iron was so strong, he couldn't breathe. He was gagging, stomach convulsing, throat raw and contracting, tongue swollen and dry. 

His back arched, and chest heaved, he expelled the roiling bile from his gut into the gooey, thick, floor. It mixed in, changing the color from black to a brownish red, and it stank. Rotted and metallic and salty. He gagged again, falling into the mess, his arms shaking uncontrollably, legs refusing to function, he just lay in it. Face down. He wanted to die. He couldn't die. He had to get there. Get to her. 

He raised his face from the muck, gasping harshly, blinking bile and blood from his eyes. Tears streaming, blinding and cleansing. Inching jerkily through the mask of gunk stuck to his face. There was a strange sound now. A rushing, whooshing, mewling screech. Ragged, and painful, the sound filled the air, and his lungs emptied. He couldn't breathe, but the sound did not stop. Where was it coming from? Was it from him? Yes. It was. He was making that noise, and he couldn't stop. 

The scream was broken by hiccups as his body fought for air, and he slowly pulled himself closer to her. His fingers brushed her leg, it was cold.  Not corpse cold, but too cold. Too still. She didn't even twitch when he touched her. A bad sign. He grasped her thigh, he could see his hand now, it was red. Why was it red? He looked down, right, blood, blood is red. His hand is red. Blood red. Caught red handed. He began to laugh. 

The snot flowing from his nostrils began to pool in his open mouth, he spat, quickly, gagging as he did so. Why was he laughing?

He began to inch his way up her body, to her face. So beautiful. So far away, her plaid shirt was stretched and swollen. No, not her shirt, her belly. He walked his fingers shakily over her body to her face, stopping at her mouth, it was open slightly, but there was no air coming out. The sound began again. He chocked it off. Forcing his arms to support him, his legs to move, he came up to a crawling position. 

His face was over hers now. The horrible smelling mix he had slid through dripping onto her eyes, into her hair. He kissed her. Slowly, he lowered himself down, laying his head on her ample chest. He rested his hand on her belly. 

"They're both gone." he whispered, and the sound came from deep within again. There was no stopping it now. There was no reason to stop it. Let it go, and he would go with it.

Motivated and Inspired :)

See that skipping bear in the picture? Of course you do. That bear is awesome.

Moving on.

I have been participating in NaNoWriMo (aka National Novel Writing Month) for the past three years. The first year I didn't get past the outline (because I suck at outlines), the second year, a whopping 1000 words, and this past year a little over 3000 words. So yeah, I haven't actually completed the 50,000 word novel challenge yet. Partially because I never know where my novel is actually going, but mostly because NaNoWriMo happens in November. I am always busy in November. Always.

So, imagine my great and wondrous joy when I discovered that NaNo, does a "writers camp" twice a year! Woot! Here I come!

The first one is in April. My word goal is 35,000. I will writing a YA novel, no idea what it will be about yet, but expect updates as I figure it out (and contests for stuff).

But, to do this, I am going to have to write every day. So to get in the habit, I will be writing a short story every day. The first thirteen will be done with First Line Fiction prompts. These stories will appear here, on KeledaeSpeaks. For your enjoyment, consideration, critic(please), and praise. Seriously, comment on them and tell me what you think. I really do wanna know.

The first of these will appear tonight! Yay!

But since my writing time is from 10-12 every night, not for another couple of hours.

Looking forward to your feedback!

Hooray!

Extreme

Ok, so I have a serious question to pose.

Why are all arguments made with extreme parameters?

What I mean here is, why, when there are so many rational people out there, who can think for themselves and be sensible, do we all get our rage on when some extremist spouts a mouthful of idiocy into our hearing space? I am just as guilty of this as anyone else.

For example: Today I read a very well worded blog about being pro-abortion.  My problem with it is that is was, in my opinion, a rather extreme argument. The statement it made was basically that being pro safe sex, was the same as being pro abortion.  I disagree with this, and I will tell you why. Having safe sex, leads to less disease, less emotional fall out and less pregnancy. Now, before I go any further, let me define my terms (and you should all understand that I have made these definitions on my own, and that I do not follow them myself the way I should) Safe Sex, is sex between two consenting adults in a stable and long term relationship (preferably a marriage, but that is no guarantee these days). These two adults are only having sex with each other, are aware of their sexual health and are using the type of contraception that they are comfortable with.  These two adults also understand that said contraception is not 100% effective and that there is a possibility that they will create a miniature human. 

Yes, that was a long definition, but I wanted to be specific. Now here is my counter argument to the statement made by the blog. Not all sex leads to pregnancies, but all pregnancies lead to babies (even a miscarriage is a baby, it just died of natural causes).

Ok, I'm getting off track.

Moving on.

Extremists are generally loud, and in your face, and they get all their power from you responding to their drivel. So why do we keep giving them all the power?

We know that Westboro is a hate-filled extremist group, so why do we keep giving them press, instead of just quietly dealing with them?

I just don't get it. I myself am guilty of responding to an extreme argument, probably of even making one or two. But really, it makes no sense to argue this way since 90% of life is not lived in the extreme.  Responding to an extreme point of view almost always forces you to take and extreme point of you yourself, which screws up your point and makes you sound just a bigoted as the guy you were so offended by.

So maybe we should try something new. Instead of responding, we ignore. Instead of yelling/rebutting, we act.  We live our lives in a responisble way, we accept certain truths, we agree to disagree and we live in peace, showing tolerance and love and understanding. We learn patience, we do the research and make opinions based on fact as well as feeling. We embrace education, over extremism.

I dunno, I realize that it is asking a lot, although I'm not sure why asking for rational, peaceful behavior is such a hard thing.

Monday Rantday: Part 2: Let's all get offended.

URGH! I am so tired of people getiing all up their high horse over something that is supposed to be funny.

I follow the hilarious George Takei on Facebook, and today he has posted a quote from the movie Mary Poppins today. "Though we adore men individually, we agree that as a group they are rather stupid."- Mrs. Banks (although the post credits Mary Poppins)

Almost 2,000 comments later, this is no longer a funny throwback to a great movie, instead it is a attackfest about sexism, racism, and how things like this are not funny.

So here is my question.

WHY?

Why isn't it funny? Why does it always have to get ugly? When did absolutely EVERYONE turn into a bunch of oversensitive whiners?  I mean seriously, I'm all for equal rights, but that doesn't mean I have to stop seeing the humor in life.

Men are stupid. Women are stupid. People, as a whole are stupid. If you don't believe me, just read the comments on anything Mr. Takei shares with his fans.

I really don't understand this whole mentality. Why is there always someone who has to turn a joke into an attack? A song lyric (out of context) into a political statement?

Here's my advice.

Chill the F out. Seriously. For real. Take a chill pill. Stop looking for everything to be about you. I promise, it's not. The majority of things you see and read have absolutely nothing to do with you or anyone you know. Yeah, sometimes these statements are made in hatred. But what better way to disprove them than by laughing at them? Why do we have to continue to support racism, sexism, ect. by giving this crap so much freaking attention?

Laugh it off people. Stop letting it get to you. There is a big difference in standing up for what you believe or doing what is right, and being a giant whiny-pants.  Point in fact: NOBODY like a whiny-pants.  In the same way that nobody likes a tattletale. In fact, I'd say snitches are probably the most hated group of people out there, and do you know what snitches are essentially doing when they go tell? That's right, they're whining. Be cry-baby whiners telling someone why what is happening or being said is wrong or unfair. Whining.

And all you people that just can't take joke, that just HAVE to be offended by everything, are just the same. A big group of whiners.

Get over it.

Learn when it is appropriate to be offended and to take a stance, and when to just recognize that something is funny, have a laugh and get on with your day.

Monday Rantday: Misleading Movie Trailers.

*Warning, post contains spoilers*

There is nothing quite the same as that feeling you get when you see an awesome movie trailer. I'm not sure what it is about movies, but they are a special kind of magic. So, when you see an inspiring trailer and you get super excited and you call your friends, and you make your plans and then you go see it. There is nothing quite as irritating as the movie being nothing at all like it was portrayed.

Serioulsy, last night, I sat down to watch Bridge to Terabithia, the movie about two kids with crappy home lives, that get bullied at school and find a way to escape by going into a magical world where they are supreme rulers and everything is awesome. Oh wait, no it's not. Yeah there are two kids with crappy home lives that get bullied at school. Yeah they become friends and go to Terabithia, which is, in fact a run down tree house in the forest that is terrorized by birds and squirels. Oh yeah, and the girl dies. Like three quarters in, the girl dies. WTF? I thought this was supposed to be a happy kids movie? I didn't realize that I would be explaining death to my kids when it was over, or hugging them tightly while they cry their little eyes out. Yeah.

Then there is Adventureland. This movie had trailers that led you to believe there was another amazing Zombieland style comedy in the works. There would be tons of laugh lines and culture references and awkward moments. But the only thing it delivers, is awkward moments. It is not, in fact, a comedy, but a horribly poignant drama film about the complex nature of relationships and one guy who takes advantage of every damn girl he can, another guy with no idea how to get a girl, and kirsten stuart, looking like she always does. Oh, yeah and all those laughs you thought you had? They were stolen by the kid who always punches the other kid in the balls.

You also get movies like Coraline. The trailer promises a nightmare before christmas style childrens film, with a good lesson and some lovably creepy characters. But what you actually get is a strange otherworld with an evil "mom", a less than adventurous adventure, old woman in revealing clothes and a bunch of mice. Oh yeah, there is also a cat, but the cat has no interest in the mice, and a little boy, that if you read the book, does not even exist. This was such a disappointing film.

Another way that trailers can be misleading is by have stuff in them, that is in fact, NOT in the film. This makes me want to scream. There are so many examples of this that the ones that just flashed through your head are doing a much better job of showing themselves than I could.

Of course, this can also keep you from seeing a movie that is in fact, really good. Movies like The Fifth Element, which would have been awesome in theaters, looked pretty cheaply made and extremely cheesy, so I skipped it.  The Road, staring Viggo, looked an action flick, which if you've read the book you know, it isn't. But I didn't go see it because according to the trailer they effed up the story.

Stupid Bad Movie Trailers.

King of the Nerds

When I saw the first teaser for the TBS reality show "King of the Nerds" I was a little excited. Here, at last, was a reality show that would have an edge of intelligence, include challenges I would be able to fairly judge, contestants I could identify with and subject matter I could geek out on. I was so looking forward to it that I set my DVR up to series record so that I would never miss a moment, and then I watched the first episode.

So let's start now with the cast of characters of this show:
9 specialized nerds that fit the stereotypes: 3 Science/Math nerds, Girl Gamers (an Asian descent and a bubble gum pink hair), A real life Sheldon Cooper with slightly less self-enthusiasm,  2 Female comic book fanatics(a novelist and an annoying girl), A "superhacker"

and two actual relate-able and likable Ivan, a game developer and Moogega (Moo-ja-gay) a Planetary Protection Engineer who went to college when she was 16.

Oh, and the hosts: Robert Carradine and Curtis Armstrong, both from Revenge of the Nerds. So far, the only thing the show got right. 

I was expecting a more well-rounded case, with less specialized nerds and more what I would call, successful/ everyday nerds that were relate-able and not so annoying. Really, knowing reality TV, I should have known better. But hey, I'm optimistic sometimes.

The first challenge,  was every loser-nerd-not-so-popular kids worst moments in high school: Time to choose the teams.

Oh wait, there are 11 contestants. That means SOMEBODY ISN'T GETTING PICKED.  There definitely won't be a twist there, right? And it certainly won't escape the notice of 11 really smart nerds, right? Wrong. Of course there was a twist, and of course, everybody was surprised. My faith in these people is now pretty much completely gone.  Predictably, the so far most annoying and least qualified contestant, Alana(one of the comic book fanatics), was not chosen. She was then asked to choose which team was the strongest, she chose orange, so they placed her on Blue. Yeah, she hasn't been set up to fail.

So, the climax, who is going home? Well, each team chooses someone to go into the"Nerd War",  which was a giant , outdoor game of chess. The pieces were moved around by a harajuku girl in a slutty lolita outfit, which would be awesome except that the camera only followed her and we had NO IDEA what was actually going on in the all-important game of chess. That is until, Alana gave some really bad advice to Hendrik(the real-life sheldon cooper who has never played chess apparently) and he lost. Not exactly sure how he lost, since we never got to see the board, but there you go.

So all-in-all, it doesn't really matter how awesome the hosts are, how nerdy the challenges are, or how many amazing guest judges this show throws at us. It is, first and foremost, "Reality TV", produced not for its feigned target audience of nerds, but instead for its actual audience of shut-in tv addicts that don't really care at all about the content.

3 stars of 10. A generous mark for such a disappointing debut