Geeking Out

I know I've been bad about posting things lately, Imaginary Readers, and I don't really have an excuse, other than a week in the North Woods without internet access, but I'm okay with that. Frankly, as I'm sure you've noticed, I tend to use this space as an outlet for my angst, which works, but means that I post more when I'm not doing so well, and, almost surprisingly, I've been feeling pretty good so far this summer. Having something productive to do every day (lab work) is good for me, as it keeps me from wallowing in self-pity at home all day, and when you add in having [Keeper Of All Knowledge] and [Totally a Cat] in town for the summer and hanging out with them, it makes for what is probably the best summer I've had in a long time, so far at least. Don't worry, Imaginary Readers, I am trying to still post things here, but I just haven't had much to say lately that isn't super repetitive of my previous meanderings, and I think it is better for now to only say things when I have something to share, rather than to force something more frequently. Anyways, on the the main event of this post.

Us with Tamora Pierce (middle)

This past weekend, [Keeper of All Knowledge], [Totally a Cat], and I went to CONvergence, a local sci-fi/fantasy convention here in the Twin Cities that serves pretty much the entire upper mid-west outside of Chicago, and it was awesome! While we had thrown around the idea of going when we were idly planning stuff to do this summer, we decided that we had to go when we found out that Tamora Pierce was one of the guests of honor this year. Sometime last year we all discovered that we had a mutual love of her books, to the point that we had a Tamora Pierce reading group last summer lovingly named "Ladies of the Knight" because we are just that cool, although I only made it through Song of the Lioness, the first quartet, and the first two books of the Wild Magic quartet before giving up on my reread. One thing that was quite apparent from the panels that we went to on her work and just our experience with it in general, is that she seems to have the quietest fandom ever. Over and over, people said that they thought that they were the only ones who liked her books, and they were pleasantly surprised to find that they had a decent sized following. This is unfortunate, because it's always better to have people to talk to about the stuff that you love, but understandable to me, in that, although she is one of my favorite authors, and the Tortall books were an important force in my adolescence, I rarely talk about them when discussing things like favorite books and fantasy series. I'm not sure why this is, other than an inherent assumption that no one else has heard of them, which perpetuates the problem. Her books are awesome, particularly for young girls who are into fantasy, because they are populated with strong female characters, who are sorely lacking in YA books, and I strongly recommend them to anyone who hasn't read them before.

Two Caps and a bunch of War Bond girls

Also, Tamora Pierce is hilarious to listen too. She's a great speaker, and can only be described as feisty. She never shies away from controversial topics, and makes her opinion quite clear. We were super excited to meet her, and managed to be the first ones in line for the book signing, without getting their ridiculously early or anything. I got one of [SisterBot]'s books signed, as well as one of my own, which pretty much means that she can never be mad at me again. We also got our picture taken with her after a panel on her characters, which was equally cool, and had the mystery of how to pronounce her name cleared up: the emphasis is on the first syllable, not on the 'o.'

Just some of the many Avengers present

While all the Tamora Pierce stuff was super awesome, the rest of the weekend was pretty amazing too. We went in costume, because it's more fun that way, with [Totally a Cat] going as first the Eleventh Doctor then as Liz X from that one episode of Doctor Who, [Keeper of All Knowledge] going as Zoe from Firefly, and me as Kel from Tamora Pierce's Protector of the Small series. People really get into the costumes, and there were some amazing ones, like the Madam Vastra costume that definitely made [Totally a Cat] and I squeal for about 30 seconds, and the super awesome Captain America who looked strikingly like Chris Evans, and spent the entire time in character as Cap, telling people to buy War Bonds and saluting people when he left. The main thing that struck me about the costumes was the sheer abundance of boobs. I really shouldn't have been surprised, given the types of things that female characters tend to wear in comics and other media, but the sheer number of corsets and what can only be described as bikinis on display was quite impressive, if somewhat distracting. There were some truly impressive displays of boobs defying gravity itself, as well as many other examples of somewhat questionable costumes, where I was left wondering if they were really a character from something or had just elected to wear bondage gear. Also, furries. This isn't to say that I have any particular problem with bondage gear or furries or any of the other somewhat strange things that people did, as CON is a safe place to let all of your particular geek flags fly, including some of the kinkier ones, and geeky and kinky do tend to go hand in hand, but there were times when I was left wondering about whether people had just used something like bondage gear to approximate the leather straps on a particular character's outfit, or if they had just decided to eschew costumes for their leather codpieces, because sometimes it was confusing.

The aforementioned squeal worthy Madam Vastra (from Doctor Who)

We also ran into [Nice Vest] and [The Cool CA] there, and we hung out with them a bunch, because we really haven't seen them much this year, and they're pretty cool. They had come with a whole group of people, and had at least three different costumes each, so they didn't repeat day to day. The panels and events were fun, and [Nice Vest] directed us towards an unscheduled sing-a-long screening of Once More With Feeling, the musical episode from Buffy: the Vampire Slayer, which was awesome, and at night the place basically turned into one giant party, with sketchy bottles of what was presumable mostly alcohol being passed around freely, although we didn't end up staying all that late. It was totally worth the ticket price ($60 because we bought them early enough) and the price of the hotel room we split, and they provided enough real food that outside of the ticket and the hotel, there was no need to spend more money unless you wanted to buy something in the merch room, where the wares were both high quality and reasonably priced. It was a super fun weekend, and we have already begun to come up with ideas for costumes for next year, because planning is necessary. Everybody was super nice, because when you put geeks in Minnesota you can't really have a nicer group en masse, which definitely enhanced the experience. I can't believe that I haven't gone before, and I'm super excited to go again. Really, if you haven't already, you should definitely check CONvergence out if you're in the Twin Cities area, because it is super awesome. Okay, I'll stop gushing now.

Attempting Athletics

(via)

As I mentioned before, I spent several days of my relaxing, if somewhat boring, spring break this year engrossed in Ken Burn's Baseball documentary, because history plus baseball plus documentaries equals awesome and this is what happens when I am bored, have time on my hands, and have Netflix. It was super interesting, because I am a history nerd and I love baseball, if a bit long, consisting of eleven episodes which are each two plus hours long. It really made me remember why I enjoy baseball so much (arguably: because I understand it better than other sports), and it also really made me miss playing softball. [SisterBot]'s first high school softball season just began, so I spent an inordinate amount of time over break talking about softball with both her and/or [PaternalUnit], because she has the same coach I had in high school, and really, softball and school are the two major topics of conversation between [PaternalUnit] and I these days.

All in all, I've really been missing playing it lately, but that could also be due to how I've been feeling fat and lazy recently. I can't say that I every really loved playing, and it's probably mostly just rosy recollection and nostalgia motivating my recent renewed interest, but I played fastpitch for seven years, and it was an important part of my life for awhile, even if it permanently messed up my elbow, gave me shin splints, and generally made me hate running.

I was never super athletic, even when I was young, mostly due my general lack of stamina and an inability to run at a any pace faster than a slow plod, but I tried really hard to be an athlete growing up, for reasons still unbeknownst to me. I played T-Ball, and soccer in the summers  and I ice skated a ton and played Bandy (a Nordic version of Hockey played with curved sticks and a ball) in the winters when I was little, and what I lacked in talent I made up for in spirit (or at least that's what they told me, and I realize now that was just a polite way of saying I sucked). I even made a brief foray into Basketball in middle school, and that went as well as could be expected. I wasn't actually the worst player on the team, but it was close, and I think I scored once during the two years I played.

I wanted to play baseball, but I knew I wouldn't go very far in little league before I was forced out because "baseball is for boys," or something, so I decided to do the next best thing and sign up for the local Fastpitch Softball team, much to my parents' amusement because by that time I was 10, and quickly losing any pretenses of being any sort of natural athlete (really, outside of persistance and decent hand-eye coordination, I didn't have much going for me in that department, I still don't). But I did it anyways, and I immediately loved softball. I became I decent catcher and I could hit fairly well, and the first several years were fun. My middle school team did pretty well in the local parochial school league and my summer team was perennially okay.

(via)

Despite my enjoyment of playing, my problems socializing with the teams I played on arose rather quickly, because most of the girls I played with during the summer went to the same local public school and played on the same school team. I was only one of, at most, two girls who went to a different school, and I was always an odd man out on the team because of that, but that didn't bother me at first, until, after the better part of five years playing together, the core group of girls I played with attempted to form their own club team and asked everybody but the other Catholic school girl and I to be on it. They failed, and we played together again that year for the last time, but I really think that was the beginning of the end for me because for the first time I really realized, or was forced to admit, that I wasn't accepted as part of that team, even though we have been playing together since we were 10.

I played in high school as the back-up Varsity catcher, although I spent most of my time on JV, which I didn't mind because they were nicer anyways and I am not the most competitive person. I enjoyed playing, but I hated practicing every day and the endless running, so unnecessary to a game where at most you have to run 60 feet at a time (yes, 60 feet, because the base paths in fastpitch are 60 not 90 feet), gave me shin splints. My sophomore year things got worse, because, once again, the socialization aspect of team sports gave me problems. That year, I spent about a third of my time on Varsity, filling in whenever they needed a second catcher or a pinch hitter and playing with them when JV wasn't playing or they had a tournament. Despite this, only two people on the team would talk to me, the pitcher who I went to middle school with and was super nice, and the first baseman who I had played JV with the year before. I never felt like part of the team and that made it so that I never had any fun playing anymore.

I was going to play my junior year, and I was pretty much guaranteed the starting catcher spot, but the closer it got to the season starting, the less I wanted to play. Just the thought of playing was giving me anxiety, and it got so bad that I nearly burst into tears at an info meeting about the season. There wasn't any particular reason either, although at other times I have experienced something similar, where, for whatever reason, I just know that have to quit something I used to enjoy and I have a ton of anxiety about it until I do. Granted there were some other factors adding to my stress, like it being 11th grade which is stressful enough to begin with and I was thinking about coming out (which I didn't, but just thinking about it at the time was stressful) which was also giving me a lot of stress. I think maybe it had just run its course and I needed to be done, but quitting the softball team the week before the season started was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It was for the best, and I felt a lot better because of it, but I really felt like I was letting people down. I had made a commitment to the team and I was quitting, which is something that is difficult for me. I take my commitments and responsibilities seriously, and I hate feeling like I let someone down. It stimulates my guilt response, which, granted, isn't difficult.

I haven't played since, and I haven't regretted quitting, partially because the teams both my junior and senior years were fraught with drama including, but not limited to, periods where half the team wasn't on speaking terms, seniors getting freshman to flash people, alleged underage drinking, and a captain getting suspended. I cannot express how glad I was not to have to deal with that, but I do still miss playing, especially now that [SisterBot] made Varsity and spring is in the air so early. [Keeper of All Knowledge] has talked about us finding a rec slowpitch team to play for this summer, which would be fun. For the first time since I stopped playing, I actually want to play again, but I don't know if that's a good thing or if I'm just nostalgic for something that I never really had in the first place...

First Impressionists

A new semester has once again begun, and after nearly a week, I still feel like I'm catching up with people after the break, or at least the few people I actually talk to on a semi-regular basis. Finals and the the break plus changing schedules mean that there are people I talk to in class or just around on a regular basis who I haven't seen in the better part of a month, some of whom, like the people I talked to in physics last year and then my engineering classes last semester, I will probably not have classes with again because of changing majors. I wasn't particularly close with any of those people, but it was nice to have people to talk to in class, because then I don't go entire days at a time without talking to anyone.

I ran into [Nice Vest] and [The Cool CA] tonight and talked to them for a bit, which was nice, because I really don't see them enough, even though I live in the same building as [The Cool CA]. During the course of our conversation, [Nice Vest] told me that the first time she really remembers meeting me, she thought I was a total bitch because I wasn't a fan of our floor being Lord of the Rings themed for the Spring semester last year, which was mostly her idea because she's a huge LotR nerd.

It is true that I don't enjoy Tolkien's work other than The Hobbit all the much, in both book and movie form, but I have read the books and attempted to stay awake through the movies. I have a lot of respect for them, and I can understand why people like them, I just don't. I've never been much of a fan of fantasy, and I don't find Tolkien particularly readable. That being said, as an avid nerd myself, I get annoyed that people tend to get offended, or are surprised, when then learn that I'm not a LotR fan. I have my opinion, and I don't think the books are bad, I just don't like them, and I respect the opinions of people who like them, so I don't appreciate it when people automatically assume that I am attacking them by not enjoying them. I respect your opinion, and as such, I expect my opinion to be respected in return. Just because you love something doesn't mean I have to also.

According to Google, this is what pretentious people look like

All ranting aside, this is not the first time I have failed to make a good first impression on someone who I later became friends with. In fact, it seems to have become a somewhat disturbing trend lately. I know for a fact that [Fuckin' Magnets] thought I was 'the most pretentious person ever' for a while after we met, although I do have to admit it was over a game of trivial pursuit which does tend to bring out my know it all side. And [Type A, Likes Baseball] admitted to hating me for the majority of the fall semester last year because I sat next to her in Calc and was 'pretentious in calc' although I don't think knowing the answer in class counts as pretentious. Now it's become kind of a thing for my friends to refer to me as pretentious, which I don't think I am really. I'll admit that I'm a smart ass, and that I have a tendency to correct people, argue semantics, and speak with authority about things I know nothing about, but I don't think any of that counts as pretentious. I never assume that I'm smarter or better than anyone, and I know I'm usually not the smartest person in the room. I know that my friends aren't being mean, and they don't really mean it, but I'm starting to get tired of hearing it from some people.

Anyways, tangents aside, it seems that I have a first impression problem. I know that I'm more reserved when I first meet people, and for some reason the more guarded I am the more I feel the need to correct people. I'm also not the type to make friends right away. It takes me some time to get comfortable with people enough to start spending time with them. I met all of my current friends at the beginning of last year when we all moved into the dorms, but I didn't start hanging out with them until at least a month into the Spring semester, and even then it took me a couple of weeks of just hanging around the lounge doing homework, which is where they always were, before I felt like part of the group at all. This probably makes me seem aloof and distance or something like that, which isn't the best for first impressions, but it's really just that I'm scared to talk to people.

This may be one of the reasons why I have problems meeting people, because apparently people don't like me at first. But I swear I'm not a bitch or really pretentious (at least I don't think so; please let me know if I am) and I don't hate you. I'm just socially awkward and I don't know what to say, especially if I'm in a large group of strangers who all seem to have no trouble meeting people. So, if you ever see me standing in a corner looking uncomfortable in a social setting, come talk to me about X-Men or redheads or anything really, and if you walk away thinking that I hate you, I probably don't, in fact, you probably just made my day.

Oh! The Places I've Been

Stuck in a Lurch

When I was in ninth grade, I copied out the full text of Dr. Seuss' Oh! The Places You'll Go, and I've carried it in my wallet ever since. After the better part of five years, it's a little worse for wear, but I still have it with me. It's my favorite book, out of everything I've read (which isn't saying much: I have read quite a few Star Trek novels, which are not known for their quality), because it's about life, in a really concise, rhyming way. Ultimately, it has a hopeful message, but it doesn't pull punches, which I think is why I like it so much. 

For a long time, my favorite line from it was possibly the most depressing passage in the entire thing:

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you. All Alone! Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

I can't tell you how many notebook pages I covered with those lines in high school. The sentiment of it really resonated with me at the time, and to a certain extent still does, because I have always been aware of my issues with feeling my feelings, and because I didn't have anyone in my life who I was willing to really try to be close to, I spent a lot of time feeling really isolated and alone. It was comforting to me for someone (Dr. Seuss) to tell me that was okay; that maybe I wasn't as different from everyone else as it seemed. But that was just an excuse, in a way, to not deal with the things that were making me feel so isolated; the things that I'm just starting to deal with now. Because it was so much easier not to deal with my issues; to not get close to people, and just continue on by myself, like I always had.

I have this very clear memory of being about eleven or twelve years old and thinking that I was probably gay, but then deciding not to deal with it, not to figure out what that meant, and who I was at that time. And then I proceeded not to continue not dealing with it for several years, until I consciously could not allow myself to no longer deal with it, and I had to admit it to myself. I think that was the moment that I stopped dealing with my feelings, when I started suppressing everything and always being okay, even when I wasn't. Because in that moment, I made the conscious decision to not deal with something fairly important because it was easier not to, and once the precedent was set, it was so much more difficult to go back and unravel the mess that I had made than to continue to not deal with things. I took the easy way out, and it worked for a long time, because I had nothing else so big to deal with that I couldn't just pretend to be okay, and I got really good at pretending to be okay.

And now I'm finally starting to deal with my feelings, and going back and cleaning up some of the mess I made, to the extent that I can. But the only reason I'm doing so now is that I've finally had things happen that have made me realize that I can't go on not dealing with things. I want to be friends with [Львица], I am friends with her, but I don't want it to be weird, what with everything that's happened, which means that I have to work through all of my feelings for her and about what happened. I know that if I don't, if I just pretend like everything's fine, my usual modus operandi, I will lose her completely, because I won't be able to really be friends, I'll just pine for her and that's not good for anyone. I want to be able to look her in the eye and honestly tell her that I'm okay, with all of it, and with everything that happened. I want to be able to see her in that dress without it making me feel weird for the rest of the night, and then feel bad about feeling weird. I don't want the fact that we dated for a bit to define my relationship with her, because it is so much more than that to me. 

And so, attempt to deal with it I have, and am, even though I have no idea what I'm doing. It's difficult for me to reconcile the inherently irrational nature of emotions with the part of me that needs a rational explanation for everything. I've been trying to let myself to really experience my feelings, and not try to suppress them, and I've been trying to talk to people about it, and I have talked to [Totally A Cat] some, as well as [Keeper of All Knowledge] and [Fuckin' Magnets], which is a really big deal for me, given that I normally never talk about my feelings with anyone.

And it is helping, I think. The past couple of weeks have been better. I've been feeling more like myself, and the ratio of good days to bad days has greatly increased. I know that time heals all wounds and all that, but I'm trying to prevent the build up of scar tissue in this case. I am trying to be a mature, functioning adult about this, and behaving the same way as I did when I was twelve when presented with something that scares me and is difficult to deal with is not the way to accomplish that particular goal. I'm attempting to use this whole thing to grow as a person (like a plant), but that just complicates things because I'm only just realizing what a mess I've made for myself. I feel kind of lost, like I have no idea what I've gotten myself into, or how I'm going to sort it all out. Once again, Dr. Seuss says it much more articulately (and much more rhyme-y) than I can:

 You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

I'm out of my depth with this whole dealing with my emotions thing, but I know, or at least I hope, that will change as I get more comfortable with it. In many ways I'm still twelve, because I haven't really emotionally matured since then, so I've got a lot of catching up to do, and I'm trying to cram it all into a couple of weeks and expecting it to work like that. I have so many awesome people in my life right now, and I feel like I owe it to them to get my shit sorted out and not wallow in my pain or pine after something that's not going to happen, so that is what I'm trying to do. It's just been more difficult than I anticipated. But I'm trying not to let that deter me.

Comic Book Wednesday: My Origin Story

Beware the power of CBW

I know that you have all been clamoring for the return of Comic Book Wednesday, imaginary readers. You've been reading this blog and wondering why I haven't discussed comics in lieu of my feelings in recent weeks. In truth, it's not because I haven't been reading them, there is a whole stack that I've read and am now waiting to get back from [Princess Leia Vampire], it's just that there is only so much I can talk about without doing reviews, and I don't think any of you are particularly interested in irregular reviews of the four titles I read. (So many commas in that last sentence; have fun parsing it).

So, I have decided to resurrect CBW, much like Jean Grey, this week as a welcome break from the depressing slog of my feelings/personal life which most of the recent posts have consisted of, but, because I do enjoy talking about myself (hence the feelings/personal life posts), this weeks CBW will be my origin story (read: how I got into comics). (Holy Parentheticals, Batman!).

I was alway a geeky child, with interests running towards fantasy and PBS from an early age. This should surprise no one. While other girls my age were having slumber parties and talking about boys (I presume) I was in my back yard duct taping lengths of PVC piping together to make swords or in my basement hot gluing pieces of felt together to make sheaths for said swords. They were awesome swords, and I probably made about half a dozen in total. I think that [BrotherBorg] still has some of them.

Around the age of ten I started spending inordinate amounts of time at my local library, and I would check out VHS tapes of old TV shows, most of which were British sit-coms, because, like I said, PBS. This lead to my discovery of episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation on VHS, which I immediately fell in love with. I quickly became obsessed with Star Trek in all of it's various incarnations, and decided that instead of actually watching any of the series all the way through, I should just read the novels/ fansites/ any other piece of content I could find. I ended up reading every Star Trek graphic novel/collection my library had, which wasn't many, but did serve to introduce me to comics, although I didn't quite like the format yet.

After about a year of being obsessed with Star Trek, [Nightcrawler] introduced me to the X-Men via X-Men: Evolution and the movies. I was instantly in love with the X-Men, which mean that I needed to consume every bit of content that existed pertaining to them. Once again, my library came to the rescue, as they had, and still have, a fairly large collection of graphic novels and trade paperbacks (collections of individual issues of comics). I quickly consumed every X-Men book they had, by which point I was pretty well bitten by the comic book bug. This lead to me reading every comic I could get my hands on, which an emphasis on Marvel comics, but a good helping of DC and Vertigo title as well.

This book is real and the most awesome thing ever written

After I had exhausted by library's collection of interesting comics, I started going to my local comic book shop (The Source Comics & Games for anyone interested) which was conveniently located two blocks from my house, and which I was familiar with due to my Pokemon card habit from a couple of years earlier (unfortunately, they are not paying me to shamelessly plug them). I spent countless hours there digging through back issues and reading trades (trade paper backs). Soon, I was reading weeklies and pulling multiple titles each week. This lasted throughout middle school and well into high school, although the number of titles I read continued to drop until I was only reading one or two books a month. I cancelled my pull sometime in 11th grade, and didn't reestablish another one until this year. It just got too difficult to keep up with the ever changing universes and events, as well as becoming prohibitively expensive, but I will always have a special place in my heart for Marvel and DC.

And that is how I came to be a comic book nerd. This is only a partial account though, because it is all tied up with libraries and Star Trek and my friendship with [Nightcrawler] and so many other stories which I don't have time to tell right now and that all have parts to play in my childhood and adolescence. The moral of this story is that comics are awesome.

Walk It Off

I love to walk. It's something I picked up from the [Paternal Unit], mostly because he likes to go on walks, and I am the only member of my family whose willing to go with him because unlike [SisterBot] I don't have a social life when I'm at home, and unlike [BrotherBorg] I do enjoy leaving the house on a regular basis. [Paternal Unit] is the reason that I've walked around all the of the lakes in Minneapolis and a good portion of those in St. Paul, and also the reason why I enjoy aimlessly walking. This summer, while in the grips of the restless ennui that the month of August engenders in me, I took to walking around Como Lake and the surrounding neighborhood whenever I couldn't stand to be in my house any longer. Walking calms me down when I'm upset and helps to syphon off some of the anxiety when I get tense. I think best on my feet, and it gives me an chance to sort out my thoughts.

Unfortunately, Como Park does not actually look this cool at night (via)

I was home for the holiday weekend, the first I've spent any amount of time at home since school started nearly three months ago. I couldn't stay still at home. I was restless, emotionally claustrophobic, and really damn anxious. I'm no stranger to anxiety; it crops up in my life from time to time due to a variety of things and every time we have a stormy spring, but it's usually linked to something specific, like severe weather or having to use a Bunsen burner, whereas the anxiety I've felt over the past couple of days is more general. It hasn't been really bad at any one time, it just seems closer to the surface than normal. Maybe I'm just more aware of it because I'm trying out this whole "being in touch with my emotions" thing, which is exhausting, by the way.

Anyways, it came to a head Friday night, and I just couldn't sit still any longer, so I left. I just went, and I ended up walking around Como Lake until my foot hurt and my knees ached, but I felt better. The lake is pretty at night and quite different than it is during the day when swarms of people are there. I ended up coming back to campus Saturday night due to the desire to actually be productive on Sunday as well as family stuff that meant that I wouldn't get back until the late afternoon on Sunday if I stayed at home for the night. Once again the restlessness and boredom reared their heads, and I ended up making a giant loop around the nearly empty campus. I ended up by the Institute for Child Development, which lead to the discovery of the walking/biking bridge across the river. I had seen it before from the 10th Ave. Bridge, but I didn't know where to access it, so it was a pleasant discovery.

I like it enough, that last night, after far too many hours at Walter Library (I really need to find a new place to study, eight hours in one day is unfortunate) I decided to go out of my way to use the walking bridge to cross the river in lieu of the Washington Ave Bridge. When I got across to the West Bank side, I noticed that if I took a right instead of the left that would take me back to my dorm, I would be in the small Bluff Street Park. There was a bike/pedestrian path that lead down out of site to the river. I decided to see where this path went, because I was enjoying the walk and I didn't want to go back to my dorm room and [Random Roommate #2] just yet.

The new 35W Bridge, for reference (via)

I ended up standing under the 10th Ave Bridge by the river. The 35W Bridge was lit up blue above me, framing a view of the river with the Stone Arch Bridge and what I think is the St. Anthony Fall Laboratory internally lit with soft, warm incandescence. The Gold Medal Flour sign blinked red from downtown, in sharp contrast to the cool blue of the bridge. It was beautiful in that way that only the city can be, and it was still, with only the occasional car on West River Road to disturb it. I felt really peaceful for the first time in a while, standing there, watching the lights and the river and the bridges. I could have stayed there all night, but after about ten minutes I managed to tear myself away and go home, mostly because my ears were getting cold. Right now, at least, it's probably my favorite spot in the city, and I'm tempted to go back during the day to look around a little bit, but for now, it's one of those places that seems to only really exist at night, all lit up with nobody watching.

Sidenote: I know some of you, imaginary readers, are currently yelling at me through the space-time vortex that is the internet because I shouldn't be walking around campus alone after dark. You do have a point, but I'm not going to listen to you, because I love it too much, as previously discussed here. I'm pretty careful, and if it comes down to it, I'm not afraid to pop someone's eyeballs. Also, I have fairly odd standards of physical safety. I'll be up half the night because of hypochondria fuelled anxiety due to a menstrual cramp (this happened last night) but I will gladly walk out into the middle of the street expecting cars to stop for me (I have the right of way, dammit!). So no, I will not call an escort to walk me across campus at nine at night, that would just ruin the effect. Just be happy I've stopped walking home at one in the morning.

Friends of Friends

I ran into [Quiet Raver] the other day. She was tabling a vegan bake sale at Coffman when I was there with [Princess Leia Vampire] to exchange comics. It was more than a little bit awkward because, while we both go to the U, I've only seen her one other time since we started college. Part of me thinks that that's a shame, because we used to be somewhat close, and she was the first friend I made when we started high school. But, the truth is, I haven't stayed in touch with anyone from high school, nor do I particularly care to.

I didn't dislike high school. Despite the required religion classes and semi-regular mass, it was a good environment for me, and I think I got a lot out of it, both socially and academically. All that said, I didn't really have friends in high school. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't socially isolated or anything. I had people I ate lunch with, and who I hung out with before school, and who I talked to in class, etc. It was just that all of those relationships ended as soon as we weren't at school. I would hang out with them during the school day, and then after school and on weekends and during breaks they would hang out together and I was never invited.

I was only ever invited when it was a big group thing, like a birthday party or something like that, but, in a way, that only made it worse. It wasn't like they just didn't think to ask me to do stuff with them, they just didn't want to. They were never mean, and it wasn't like they didn't want me around, but I wasn't truly part of the group.

XKCD

The thing is, I can't just blame them, because it was probably, at least partially, my fault. They probably never knew how hard it was for me to listen to their inside jokes that I wasn't privy to, or how much it would have meant to me if they would have included me, but I wasn't going to tell them. Maybe if I had been more forward about what I wanted with them, I could have been more included, or at least realized earlier that I was wasting my time.

For a long time it didn't really bother me; I was okay with the way things were, because while things weren't great, they were good enough, which was all I really cared about. It didn't start to really bother me until senior year, when I finally realized what I was missing, but by then it was too late to really change things or get new friends.

I was bitter about it for a while, especially when I'd see pictures on Facebook of their escapades, and I was angry, both at them and at myself. But then, this summer I went to an end of the summer party at [Only Likes Asians]'s, and I saw them again, along with a bunch of other people. And while I talked to them for a while, which was super awkward because they were the same as ever, I spent a lot more time talking to other people from high school, who I was never super close to. I realized that [Operant Conditioning] and [Daphnis] and [Techie At Heart] et al. will probably be best friends for a long time and stay in touch for a while, and I don't have a place in that, but I also realized that I was okay with that.

Maybe it's because I finally realized that we were never very good friends to begin with, and maybe it's because I realized that we didn't really have much in common to begin with, but I think it was mostly because I didn't need to be friends with them anymore because I have a close group of friends now, that I'm actually friends with. In a lot of ways, this is the first time in my life that I've felt completely part of a group, rather than on the periphery, and it's made me realize both what I missed in high school, but also that I'm fine with that. Like I said, there was a lot of high school that I enjoyed, and a lot of things that I wouldn't change, it's just that since I started college, I've realized what it could have been, what I could have made it, but that's hindsight I guess...

Theory of Comparative Roommates

As you may have gathered, imaginary readers, I'm a college student, and, as such, I live in a dorm (or "residential hall" as we call them here at the U, to "facilitate community" or some bullshit like that). In my case, this means that I have a randomly assigned roommate, with whom a share a 200 sq. ft. room with two beds, two desks, and all of our stuff. So far, I haven't had any real issues with [Random Roommate #2], but some recent events have got me thinking about general roommate ettiquette, because, this year so far has been really different than living with [Clothes Don't Fit] last year, and I feel like I'm having to figure out a whole new set of rules as I go along, all of which I should already know.

Last year, I also got paired with a random roommate, [Clothes Don't Fit], and we got along really well, we were friends even. She's a Mech E major, so we had nearly the same classes, and we had similar interests, and, initially, the same group of people we hung out with, although she more so than I. Anyways, it was nice to be friends with my roommate, and, as neither of us were in relationships, nor prone to come home drunk or with a stranger, we didn't have to deal with any of the common awkward roommate circumstances.

This is not to say that she was the perfect roommate, I did have some issues with her, particularly towards the end of the year. She would never have her keys with her, and then, when I would leave or go to bed and lock the door, she would blame me for locking her out, despite the fact that it was her fault for not having her keys. She was a complete slob, and her half of the room was a total disaster, with the floor covered in her stuff and a perpetual stack of dirty dishes that she never washed.

I guess that my main problem with her was that she is one of those people that I can't spend a huge amount time with without wanting to punch in the face, which I mostly express by being a passive aggressive bitch. This doesn't happen with most people, as I can usually spend infinite amounts of time with anyone that I enjoy being around and never stop enjoying being around them, but for a few people in my life, after spending a ton of time around them, I realize that I never really liked them in the first place, and I can't stand being in their presence. This happened with [Quiet Raver] in high school, and then again with [Clothes Don't Fit] last year. I tried really hard to not let it show, because we did have to live together, but I'm sure she noticed, and I do feel bad for irrationally disliking her towards the end of the year.

Anyways, all of that was a long-winded and circuitous way to talk about what I originally intended to talk about, my current roommate, [Random Roommate #2]. She's a freshman, and an art major, and, while we get along well enough, we don't really talk, and we aren't friends, which is fine with me. All I care about is us not hating each other. But, unlike [Clothes Don't Fit], she goes out on the weekends, and she parties, and she has sex, none of which I care about, but it does raise a whole new set of issues that I didn't have to deal with last year.

All of this became eminently clear to me this weekend, when, on Friday she told me that her friend [Bieber Hair] was coming over on Saturday and he would be staying the night, if it was alright with me. I was fine with it, and I was glad she asked, and I had plans that accounted for most of Saturday anyways, so it wasn't an issue. I did wonder if [Bieber Hair] was more than just a friend, but it wasn't my business, so I didn't ask.

Just like she said, he was around Saturday afternoon when I got back from Quiz Bowl, and from the amount of time they spent in her bed the few times I was in the room, I gathered that they were more than just friends. I gave them space, and I ended up spending the night at [Львица]'s place, so it wasn't super awkward. They only really awkward bit was when I got home on Sunday morning and could hear them having sex in the shower.

I'm actually not sure how they managed it, given that our shower is TINY.

Here's the thing. I don't care that her (boy?) friend was over for the weekend. It seemed like he was from out of town, and they deserve to be able to spend time in the room without me being around and making things weird. What bugs me is that she didn't even imply that they were going to be having sex. If she had even hinted that she wanted some alone time with him, I would have taken all of my stuff with my on Saturday morning and not come back until Sunday night. I would have cleared out and respected their time together, but because all she said was that he was her friend, I took that at face value, and didn't automatically assume that she wanted the room.

Did I just not read the situation correctly? I feel weird assuming that just because her friend was a guy they would be having sex, but was that what I was supposed to assume? I mean, if it were me, I would ask her for some space for the weekend, and hope that she respected that request, for the sake of us both. I don't know. I really want to be a good roommate and respect her space when she needs it, in hopes that she returns the favor, but if she doesn't tell me, I can't do anything about it. I am not, in fact, a mind reader, much to my chagrin.

Fun fact, "Roommates" is one of the many seemingly simple words that I can never spell correctly on the first try. Something about the two o's and then the two m's. It's just confusing.

Comic Book Wednesday: The X-Men

It's Wednesday, which means it's comic book day! Despite the fact that the other two books on my pull list came out today, I didn't buy them this week because I had bio lab and then I had to study, due to a wholly unproductive yesterday (homework wise, at least). So the plan is to buy them next week when I don't have lab, and then to re-up my pull for next month. Anyways, in honor of it being Wednesday, I'm gonna write about comics today, specifically, my favorite comic series ever: X-Men.

I first encountered the X-Men on the animated TV show X-Men: Evolution when I was in grade school. It was good, and while I did have a certain fondness for the characters, it was nothing to write home about at the time. Then the movies came out, and, thanks to [Nightcrawler] I watched the first two shortly after the second one was released. Funnily enough, this is also how I saw the Men in Black movies, because I told my dad I wanted to rent X-Men, and he somehow managed to get MIB out of that.

Anyways, I loved the movies, and, in my attempted to find more content, I discovered the graphic novel section at my local library, which lead to me spending most of middle school consuming every comic book I could find, particularly every X-Men book. This, of course, lead to monthlies and pull lists, and spending hours at my local comic book store. I can credit X-Men for introducing me to comics, which are still a major part of my life. Even when I'm not actively reading and buying comics, I generally keep up with what's going on, because over the years I really have come to care about what happens to the characters and the world they inhabit.

Of all of the titles I have read, X-Men is the one franchise that I will always return to, no matter what stupid things Marvel does with them. This is mostly because I absolutely love the concept, which I think is one of the most original in all of comics. The basic idea, is the some people are born with a mutant X gene, which, during adolescence, manifests itself and gives them strange abilities. These run the gamut, from insane superpowers to physical changes to relatively harmless abilities. Because these people are different, mutants if you will, the world at large hates and fears them, and generally tries to oppress and oppose them at every turn. In order to show the world that mutants can be trusted, Charles Xavier gathers together powerful mutants at his School for Gifted Youngsters and trains them to fight evil doers as the X-Men. That's basically it, and although I could go into way more detail about the nuances of mutant-human relations and the political ramifications of M-Day, etc, I don't think that you, my imaginary readers, really care all that much about the specifics of Grant Morrison's run on New X-Men vs. Joss Whedon's run on Astonishing X-Men.

Seriously, I could probably talk about the differences between these two titles for day.

One of the reasons that I love the X-Men so much, is because I have always identified really strongly with the concept, and thus, the characters. This is probably because mutants are a near perfect allegory for homosexuality. I mean, really, X-Men, really? Could you have made it any more blatant? Something innate about you makes people hate and fear you for no reason. This something becomes apparent during adolescence, and is a reason that people oppress you. It's genetic. It really couldn't be more clear.

Even before I realized that I'm gay, I identified really strongly with the X-Men, which is probably because I always felt different, but I didn't have a reason why I felt that way for a long time. I was twelve; it was a lot easier to imagine that I was going to have superpowers than that I was gay. Honestly, I'm still a little bit bitter about not having superpowers, but that's what spending my formative years reading comic books gets me.

X-Men is the book that I will always return to, no matter what else I'm reading, or what's going on, it will always have a special place in my heart. Except for the third movie, because that was a crime against nature, and the First Class movie, because I don't care what anyone says, Havoc CANNOT come before Cyclops in continuity. IT MAKES NO SENSE. *grumble grumble grumble*

On a less abominable note, X-Men is awesome, and my favorite series ever, and everyone should love it as much as I do. Everybody should at least read the Dark Phoenix Saga, because it truly is amazing.

Four Eyes

My glasses are broken, and have been broken for about two weeks now. They didn't brake in any sort of exciting way; I wasn't punched in the face, I didn't trip and fall and land on my nose. Nope, nothing even mildly interesting like that. They just... fell apart. I was at the State Fair with [Львица] and [La Maga], and I went to take them off so I could switch to my sunglasses, but as soon as I did, the bridge of the nose split apart and they were in two pieces. As you would expect, I found this very upsetting.

Alas, my poor glasses!

Convinced that I could repair them so I don't actually have to pay for new frames, I first took the Harry Potter route and duct taped them back together. I was sure that this would work, (which is mostly due to my deep love of duct tape rather than any sort of common sense), but, unfortunately, duct tape is not the most ridged of adhesives, and the weight of the frames combined with the pressure of the bridge on my nose caused the tape to sag. Rather than sitting straight and forming a solid 180 degree horizontal line, the taped bridge started to become the vertex of an 120 degree angle, which is both uncomfortable and awkward looking. Alas, despite my firm belief that all the world's problems could be solved with the application of copious amounts of the stuff, duct tape proved not to be a viable long term solution.

Next I turned to super-glue, which, despite my vague fear of permanently super-gluing my fingers together, worked pretty well at first. My glasses stayed together, and only came apart once or twice when I accidentally put too much pressure on both sides at one. It turns out, though, that after you've glued something together two or three times, a thin layer of dried glue builds up on the surface, which makes it so the fresh glue doesn't adhere as well. So now, two weeks later, my glasses are still broken, and essentially unwearable, so I've reverted to wearing my contact (yes, contact in the singular, as I only wear one), which I hate. It's annoying and makes my eye itch.

The main reason that I don't like wearing my contact though, is because it throws me off. I've worn glasses since I was eight, which is more than half of my life. They have become part of the way that I think of myself, so going without them for a long period of time makes my kind of existentially uncomfortable. I just don't quite feel like myself without them.

They've become an extension of myself, rather than just a necessary accessory. In middle-school, when I was most concerned with making sure that everybody knew just how much I didn't care what they thought, I adorned my glasses with as much random shit as I could get away with. I would duct tape brightly colored pipe cleaners to the corners, so that they stuck into the air like fuzzy antennae, and then cover the tape with blue sticky tack. At one point, there was also an LED flashlight on one side, and a small Christmas ornament and fortune cookie fortune on the other. I could only do this in the summer, because the school uniform code prohibited things that would draw attention to you, but for three months a year I got to say fuck you to societal norms via my glasses.

I eventually got over the need to be as different as humanly possible and stopped taping random shit to my glasses, but I've never gotten over seeing my glasses as an essential part of myself. So now I'm more than a little annoyed that they decided to break, and that it will be at least two to three more weeks until I can get a new pair, because I have to find a time to go pick out new frames and then wait for them to be ordered.

Anyways, I've probably said way too much about my broken glasses, but it's one of the things that's been on my mind lately, because, I apparently don't have better things to think about (which is actually not true. I have several much better things to think about, I'm just...choosing to deal with the trivial things before the actually important things, because those things kind of scare me).

Nightime Wanderings

I really enjoy walking around campus after dark. It usually occurs when I walk back to my dorm from my friends' apartment at night. (For simplicities sake, I'm going to refer to my usual group of friends as the Scoobies, which I do realize is derivative of Buffy, but it does sort of apply.) There are eight or nine of us, we're all decently close, and everyone except for me lives in the same building on the edge of campus. I also live on the edge of campus, but it happens to be the complete opposite edge, so I end up walking back to the West Bank after dark at least a couple of times a week, which may not be the safest plan of action. Both of my parents have warned me against this, as have several of my friends, most notably, [Type A, Likes Baseball], who just tonight told me not to get killed, which is pretty sound advice in a way. [Totally a Cat] and [Awkward Turtle] have walked with me a couple of times, and then gone all the way back, but I feel bad making them walk all the way to West Bank and back at 3 am.

I also just prefer walking alone. It's so peaceful at night, when everything is quiet and still, yet, no matter how late it is, there are always signs of life on campus. Rather than going directly back, I like to detour up to the Mall, which really isn't that much out of my way, because Northrop Mall at night is one of the most peaceful and beautiful things in the city. The old, solid science buildings framing the trees lining the grassy way up to Northrop, stand tall and dark at one end, and Coffman at the other, invitingly lit, reminding the denizens of the science and math buildings that there is still fun to be had in this place of learning. At least that's what it makes me think of.

At night, the Mall is still and quiet, with hardly anyone around, which is in sharp contrast to the daytime, when people are everywhere. This makes it dynamic in a way that serene places rarely are, which, in a way, makes me appreciate it even more.

Tonight, I thought campus was particularly pretty when I walked home. It was misting when I left the Scoobies', so the lights glittered off the sidewalk and grass, making everything shimmer and smell like just after it rains, but without the actual rain, which is always a plus. The Minneapolis skyline was all lit up as I walked across the bridge, and the river was dark and calm below me. It's moments like that that I realize how glad I am to be at the U, to have friends, to be productive, and to be able to walk across the river at night and just appreciate the city that I live in.