Scarlett Letters

1. Thursday was the surgery to fix my trigger thumb. It went quickly; I was in and out in about three hours. After surgery I had lunch with KSWINOD (KS who is not on DreamWidth), picked up my pain meds, came home and napped. Took a sick day yesterday from work because I was just knackered and in pain. Still just chillin'.

2. The NHL has announced the name of Seattle's new hockey team, the Kraken, and as a child of Long Island in the 1970s, when the Islanders had their dynasty years, I'm all in. I love the logo, I love the idea of Seattle hockey. I'm happy.

3. I have all this time and I want to craft, but my dexterity is significantly reduced and it's driving me a little bit crazy.

4. Protests are planned in Seattle today. I have prior plans for things today, but I continue to donate to supporting organizations. For now, that will have to be enough. I have friends who are putting their bodies into the fray; I admire them. I have, however, what they don't: disposable income to help the work go on. So that's my contribution. For now.

5. I took a shower this morning, the first since surgery on Thursday; I was too beat and freaked out to shower before. The hospital gave me three evening-length plastic gloves to put on my arm so that I wouldn't get the dressings on my hand wet (not to use all at once, mind you--one at a time as needed). I used a rubber-band on my upper arm to make sure the water stayed out. It was a very peculiar experience showering that way, and it was weird washing my hair that way. I suspect I won't really feel clean until I can use both my hands properly again.

I had all these ambitions, after WorldCon, to write a complete trip report, to write about the possible crime I was a witness to (about which I may still write) and to write here more frequently in general. Instead, what's happened is that I haven't finished my trip report and I haven't written anything since then, even though I continue to read LJ every day faithfully. :: sigh :: Best intentions and all that. So, in lieu of all the stuff I haven't written about, I want to make some brief observations, and then I need to get started with my day.

1) The Congressional vote to defund Planned Parenthood, while unlikely to get past the Senate, is one more demonstration that the Republican party isn't about conservatism. It's about control--controlling anyone and anything they feel is a threat. In this case, it's women and lower-income people. The insecurity it betrays would be laughable if it weren't so sinister and driven by so much money.

2) My desk is clean and usable for the first time in a couple of years. I'm using it at we speak. Keep an eye out for winged pigs flinging themselves skyward.

3) The new season of Doctor Who has begun on BBCA. I watched the premier and, though I liked Peter Capaldi's portrayal, I was less than impressed with the episode as a whole. The channel ran a Doctor Who marathon yesterday including a couple of episodes that are particular favorites of mine. I miss Tennant as the Doctor, and I adore the episode "Vincent and the Doctor."

4) I have read a number of books since the last time I wrote about reading at all, including
--"The Philosopher Kings" by Jo Walton (papersky, which I enjoyed more than "The Just City," the first book in what is apparently a duology. "Philosopher Kings" moved at a quicker pace than its prequel, exploring the wider world in which her characters live, but it had its difficult-to-read moments. I had less of a sense of the project being a thought experiment than I did the first. I was more involved overall. Walton's asked some interesting questions in these books and they bear thought. They are not my favorite of her work, but they were worth reading and considering
--"The Goblin Emperor" by Katherine Addison (Sarah Monette) which, while I enjoyed it, I was kind of baffled by in that while it's certainly set in a fantasy world with fantasy races at its center, it's really just an engaging court intrigue novel. The plot did not turn on any of the fantastic elements. It might have easily been told about a human court and nothing would have been lost. Rather disappointed by that. It did not get my first vote in the Best Hugo category this year.
--"The Ghost Brigades" and "The Last Colony" by John Scalzi, both set in his "Old Man's War" universe, both excellent fun and enjoyable space opera. I've said it before and I'll say it again: if the Sad Puppies didn't dislike him so much, they'd enjoy the hell out of his work.

5) Autumn is a beautiful season, but it is proving a tough one this year. And I'm so not ready for winter.

6) I'm currently reading "The Bone Clocks" by David Mitchell (author of "Cloud Atlas"). It's delicious reading, brilliantly literary and yet clearly in-genre fantasy. I was about to write a whole separate post ranting about why no one is paying attention to David Mitchell as a writer of fantastic fiction and what an injustice it is. Before I got halfway through my screed, I went to check this year's World Fantasy Award nominees. And there's Mitchell, nominated for "The Bone Clocks" for best novel. OK, then.

I've been reading the web site Religion Dispatches (RD) for years. It describes itself as an "independent, non-profit, Webby-nominated source for the best writing on critical and timely issues at the intersection of religion, politics and culture." What I know is that their material--ecumenical (they cover everyone: Jews, Catholics, Mormons, Muslims, Buddhists, feminists, LGBT people--everyone), insightful, and never dull--always intrigues me. I visit the site a couple of of times a week, piqued by their daily dispatch, and I enjoy the thoughtful, provocative content.

Today's thoughtful, provocative content involves the Vatican's Council on Women--an event discussing women and women's issues without a single woman present or in active discussion or debate, and the central document around which their debate is being built. RD has run two pieces on this event, one that took a preliminary look at that central report, with its astonishingly tone-deaf cover image, and one that did a deeper analysis of the document, its authors, its content, and its underlying philosophy and implications. And then there's the Vatican's awkward effort at appealing to women to participate in their conversation via YouTube ("Hello privileged women of the world, we want to hear ::deep, breathy sigh:: from you"--see the video at that second link.)

There's fascinating and, truth to tell, disheartening stuff here. For all of the respect that Pope Francis has earned from me with his positions on the environment, poverty and--superficially, at least--LGTB issues (where the message is muddied up and tromped upon by the rest of the church and even, occasionally, the Pope himself--talk about conflicted!), these articles reveal a myopia that has not been mitigated in the least despite social evolution, progress on issues around social justice, the women's movement, nothing.

If you have any interest in religion, social issues and social justice, the church specifically, and culture in general, these articles (and the site as a whole) is excellent reading.

[ rant mode ]

Over the last three days, three people--two on Facebook and one in email--have insisted on posting graphic, horrifying images of war dead. I understand these people have points to make. I am aware that there's a nightmare's nightmare going on in Israel and Gaza. I know how privileged I am not to live in a war zone. And perhaps I'm a princess for asking this--so be it if I am--but, people, PLEASE! Stop flinging corpses in my face! Good freaking G-d!

I'm angry about what's happening over there. I don't need the random baby-with-its-brains-blown-out image to stoke my fury. I stopped being supportive of Israel a long time ago. The dream of the original settlers has been lost in what Israel has become--perhaps what it's been forced to become. I can't support the Palestinians, either. They've lived for the destruction of Israel since the very beginning. At this point, my feeling is "a plague on both their houses."

Anyone who posts an image like that in a public forum, though, is there to generate heat, not light. And as soon as you start to do that, you lose me. You lose me completely. Because it demonstrates that you're not interested in dialogue or enlightenment. You're interested in controversy, argument and ill-feeling, not the building of bridges and the binding of wounds. A plague on your house, too.

[/rant mode]

Yesterday while I was at work, I took a break and turned to the SeattleTimes.com website to discover the news about the shootings at Seattle Pacific University. (TheStranger.com has the story without requiring sign-in or subscription. More at The New York Times.) SPU, a lovely, quiet campus, a Christian university, is a one-block walk from my house and, generally speaking, the students are good neighbors. Campus security sometimes drives down the alley behind my building. My bus stop is right there, so I'm on campus every morning.

The news shook me up. My first thought, oddly, was for the safety of my cats, an irrational thing, I know, but they were home and I was at the office, and home was very close to where the incident occurred. At the same time, I was reading that one suspect had been apprehended and another was still at large; going home seemed dicey. (We now know there was only one suspect and he was caught right away by a student monitor, assisted by others.)

As it turned out, on the way to the bus stop, I ran into lindad whom I hadn't seen in a while, and we ended up having dinner together. This had the dual benefit of our catching up with each other and me staying out of the neighborhood while things sorted themselves out. I got home about 7:30 PM (my homecoming bus stop is two long blocks from campus on the opposite side of the street) to a neighborhood that seemed undisturbed, though I could see, in the distance, a lot of cars near my morning stop. But into the evening, the area was so quiet it seemed as though nothing untoward had happened. It was eerie.

I'm horrified by what's happened. I've stayed away since yesterday afternoon; I don't want to get in anyone's way. But my heart goes out to everyone connected to the school, especially those families affected. What a horror. And yes, the students who apprehended the suspect? Heroes indeed. But I hate the necessity of their heroism.

It's been one helluva week.

Here's a link to my Flickr set for my trip to New York City.

It seems that I can't leave Washington state alone for a moment. The day after we departed Seattle, there was a terrible helicopter crash downtown. And then, upon our return home, there was a terrible mudslide in Oso, near Darrington. Good thing I won't be traveling for a while.

Bringing extinct animals back to life is really happening — and it’s going to be very, very cool. Unless it ends up being very, very bad. This New York Times article on raising the mammoth, the passenger pigeon, and other extinct animals is fascinating.

Another New York Times Magazine article examines research on bisexuality.

Maureen Dowd's got a piece in the NY Times this morning about New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio eating pizza with a knife and fork. (If this puzzles you--the idea that a columnist for one of the nation's papers of record is writing about eating pizza--you obviously do not understand one of the central tenets of being a New Yorker: Thou shalt not eat pizza with a knife and fork. Seriously.) What it's really about is personal image and politicians, how one slip up can bring into question whether or not a pol's carefully crafted public persona is as genuine as they want you to believe it is, and how delicate walking such a tightrope can be. The headline is "Tines that Try Men's Souls." It's an excellent piece, wry and carefully observed. At the same time, the headline showed me what geek I am. Why?

Last year, I read "A Fire Upon the Deep" by Vernor Vinge, a sprawling first-contact novel with brilliantly conceived alien races, one of which the human protagonist refers to as the Tines because of their long, razor-sharp claws.

So when I saw the headline, "Tines that Try Men's Souls," my first, confused thought was "Dowd's writing about science fiction?" and then "What? Aliens in Gracie Mansion?"

Yes, I'm peculiar that way.

ETA: My favorite comment on the Dowd piece: "God gave us fingers and hands to eat pizza. It is written in Genesis. Eating pizza with a knife and fork is clearly forbidden in Leviticus and warned as a sign of the Apocalypse in Revelations."

I was going to make a "Five Things..." post this morning. But one of those five things was provoked by Trish Sullivan's post about sexism in SF and the Rod Rees debacle, which I still haven't been able to find anything about online; my Google-fu has failed me. But the Google brought up the Resnick/Malzberg genderfail, and it quickly overcame the other four things I was going to post about. So here's a post about the Resnick/Malzberg thing along with related ideas, and I'll post about the other stuff a little later.

I haven't weighed in on the whole Resnick/Malzberg SFWA genderfail mainly because so many others have been so much more eloquent about it than I think I can be (with thanks to jimhines for the awesome round-up). What I see as I read through the original Resnick/Malzberg dialogues and all the response they've provoked is a couple of men clearly out of touch with the social dialog on sexism and completely unaware that, generationally speaking, they're oblivious, outgunned, uninformed, and were completely unprepared for what hit them. No argument they've marshalled in their own defense addresses the complaints lodged against them because they don't understand the complaints or the history and perspective behind them. They don't get it.

And that obliviousness is something I've had to wrestle with myself a bit as I get older. Case in point: Several months ago, a writer of whom I'm enormously fond both personally and as an author posted a portrait of herself online. She's lost weight and has been working out like a queen bitch; she looks awesome. But I found myself channeling my mother when I said, "Great pic--look at those cheekbones--but smile!" and found myself scolded for telling a woman to smile. I was a little blindsided by the scolding. I had missed an entire social dialog that centered around the idea that it's not OK to tell a woman to smile because it communicates that we are worth nothing unless we are, first and foremost, decorative. The picture reflected the success of her efforts whether or not she smiled. I Got Skooled. And the people who schooled me were right to do so. And I understood why. The incident created an important awareness for me and provoked a lot of thought.

I understood why because the discussion has been taking place since my formative years and I've been a part of it. The fact that I've missed more recent discussion alarmed me enough to go and get myself more grounding. It's something of a generational discussion and the fact that I missed it freaked me out more than a little.

So there's a piece of me that understands the Resnick/Malzberg dismay and umbrage at the response to their dialogs. There's a cultural futureshock going on for these guys. Part of the trouble is that they've never been part of this particular social dialog--or at least they haven't been recently. Their injured dignity arises from this idea that they were (See how progressive we were? See how the ladies around us never objected to us?)--and even if they were, they're not now and haven't been for so long that their defenses, though apparently relevant to themselves, aren't relevant or effectively presented to those they're arguing with. Moreover, the arguments they've marshaled in their defense reflect a generational and social divide so profound that I'm not sure it will ever be effectively bridged; I'm not sure it can be. There's an element of "you young whippersnappers" about their response that undermines a lot of what they're trying to say (separate from the fact that what they're saying doesn't address the legitimate complaints lodged against them). They present a lot of their defense in the frame of, "Why, in my day..." as if their forward-thinking behavior 35 years ago makes them social paragons to be respected today.

Except it jest ain't so. Perspective that doesn't remain informed and evolve as the dialog develops is perspective that has ossified. And the fact that these gentlemen can't see that is another symptom of that ossification. Plus, the fact that they appear to have responded in a knee-jerk fashion rather than in a thoughtful way with a little reflection and research about why people objected to their perspective just made it worse.

Look: we all believe in ourselves and the righteousness of our positions. But without stretching those positions, testing them, we become stiff and movement becomes difficult. I think that one of the lessons to come out of the Resnick/Malzberg genderfail is that we must remain aware and elastic in our learning and our perspective. We must question our assumptions. We must learn from our mistakes, yea, even into our 70s and 80s. Otherwise we might end up telling the wrong person to smile. ;-)

Made a last-minute decision to have people over last night to watch the election returns. It ended up being a small group, but was enough of a distraction to keep me from being too anxious about the results. I was happy to have good company, of course.

I'm pleased that President Obama has been reelected. (If you want to know why, see my last post. If you know me at all, this shouldn't come as a surprise.) I'm hoping that the final vote count will confirm that Democrat Jay Inslee is Washington's new governor; at this writing, the Seattle Times is reporting that Rob McKenna, his Republican opponent, hasn't yet conceded--and I understand that. With Washington's postmarked-by deadline for voting, we won't have all the votes counted for a few days. I've already groused about voting deadlines (again, see my last post), so I'm not going to say more about that. I'm gratified that Washington state took a progressive route by reaffirming the right to gay marriage and by legalizing marijuana in small amounts. I'm not so pleased about the charter schools thing (passed by less than 50,000 votes at this writing)--that's my tax dollars there not being spent responsibly--but the will of the people must be done.

I'm irritated as hell that Initiative 1185, requiring that "legislative actions raising taxes must be approved by two-thirds legislative majorities or receive voter approval, and that new or increased fees require majority legislative approval." Thanks for nothing, Tim Eyman. For those of you who aren't familiar with this name, Eyman has continuously pushed some of the most egregious, financially conservative initiatives to vote in this state over the last ten years or so, getting things passed that have tied the state's finances up in knots. Citizens vote in favor of these things, not understanding that the services and facilities they lose are the direct result of this kind of legislation. It makes me crazy that the electorate makes such short-sighted choices. But, again, the will of the people must be done (and clearly I'm in the minority on this one)--even if it's ill-informed and ultimately self-defeating will.

Speaking of which, America still has a Democratic Senate and a Republican House. I can try to be optimistic and hope for a better performance from these two bodies than we've had the last two years, but it's a hard-fought optimism. This country has business that must be attended to--the economy, infrastructure, the environment--and I fear that we're going to have more stonewalling of all these issues given how things have turned out. While I don't want to believe that such is the will of the people, the vote bears it out. I'll keep doing what I do: writing letters and expressing my opinion. I don't know if it will make a difference, but a girl can hope.

While all this was going on, did anyone notice that Puerto Rico voted for statehood? Assuming the conservative portion of Congress approves, we could see a 51st state in our lifetimes! That's an exciting prospect. The debate about the issue should be interesting. I'm hoping it won't be disheartening but will, instead, confirm the values that we, as country, claim to espouse: equality, justice, and liberty. Here's hoping.

Lastly, I want to make a quick note about some of the language I'm seeing with regard to governance. I've seen any number of columnists talk about how under this one's "rule," X, Y, and Z will happen. In these United States, my friends, we don't have "rulers." Our leaders govern. That was the whole point of the American experiment in the first place: to oust rule and replace it with governance. These words have specific meanings. Use them thoughtfully please. Our founding fathers certainly did.

After yesterday's grand disappointments and frustrations, we decided to take it easy today. We woke a little later, ate a nice egg and cheese breakfast, and followed a Rick Steves walking tour from the Place de la Bastille through the Marais to the Pompidou Center. We had perfect, clear weather (which we've had since Friday morning--Wednesday and Thursday it rained hard at one point or another) and felt refreshed and ready for the day.

Of course, the Bastille is no more. In its place is a tall column with golden, winged Mercury at the top, heralding freedom for the French people. It stands in the center of an enormous traffic circle and near the rounded glass facade of an opera house, shining in the morning sun, a nice marker for the start of our walk. And this walk was full of small pleasures, like the tiny gas station we passed--simply a pump at the curb near a parking garage--a random merry-go-round filled not with animals but rocket ships, flying saucers, airplanes and helicopters, and architectural details on buildings ranging from cherubs straining under the weight of columns to griffins fiercely protecting doorways.

We strolled down Rue d'Antoine and followed the guidebook toward the Place des Vosges. On our way, we stopped into a jewelry shop filled with beautiful stuff where I purchased a pendant with a tiny lion's head that, oddly, sported a lightning bolt across its face a la David Bowie's Alladin Sane; I couldn't resist it. It was wee and fierce, like me. :-)

The Place des Vosges is a lovely square, partly for its surrounding architecture and partly for its well-manicured lawns. The gallery shopping around it is quite nice with shops and artists showing their wares. Elizabeth found a great handbag/overnight bag: a sort of dark gray and green with black straps that's just sharp as hell. We engaged in a chat with an artist named Didier Lespagnol who was selling lovely watercolors of Place Des Vosges and the Pont Neuf, which we've already crossed a number of times. He showed us the magazine in which he'd been featured. We each purchased a print from him, discussed American politics a bit, and were completely charmed.

We left the square and continued to stroll down Rue des Francs Bourgeois, poking in and out of shops and past the Carnavalet museum. We considered going in, but were enjoying the walking so much that we decided to continue, and had lunch at a place called Camille. Our waitress was a young blond girl who wanted to practice her English and who was polite and accommodating. At the table next to us, a senior woman sat by herself impeccably dressed in a yellow cardigan and yellow slacks daintily eating a creme brulee. We watched her surreptitiously as she finished her dessert and ordered a glass of champagne, quietly watching the crowd as she sipped. I had a moment of wanting to engage her, but she clearly didn't wish to be engaged, so we kept to ourselves and enjoyed our lunch.

One of the things no one tells you about Paris, not friends, not guidebooks, is that every meal in France is at least a two-hour affair. In the states we seem to spend about an hour at lunch and maybe 90 minutes at dinner when we go out. In France, every meal out is an extended engagement, aided and abetted by wait staff very politely leaving you in peace. It's not neglect; it seems to be a respect for the patrons' leisurely repast. On the one hand it's a rather lovely thing. On the other hand, there are times when one just wants to eat and be done. I've felt impatient to move on only once or twice this trip when it's felt a little like an inconvenience--but not often.

After lunch we continued our stroll through the Marais. I found a great pair of earrings at a remarkably reasonable price (oval hoops that stand out well from my hair). We passed a Camp shoe store, where Elizabeth found a pair of adorable flats. I saw a pair of shoes I fell in love with, but which they didn't have in my size. Just as well.

And then we were in the heart of the Jewish quarter, where men and boys wearing kippot stood behind long tables selling etrogs and lulavs in preparation for Sukkot. The crowd picked its way around these tables, where people haggled for the prettiest fruit. We poked into a couple of great Judaica shops. I was interested in finding myself a chai, but though we saw a couple of great chais in the windows, we couldn't actually find them in stock, which was a disappointment. We also saw a beautiful synagogue whose Art Nouveau facade desperately needed power-washing.

We made a last stop in a shop selling beautiful ethnic scarves and each bought one. Mine is black, white, and gray with shirred effects and swaths of paisley patterns, made of 100% wool. It's warm and pretty.

The closer we got to the Pompidou Center, the more the crowd intensified. Soon enough we were practically cheek-by-jowl, jostling our way toward Notre Dame. It seemed to be a parade, a march, a party; we weren't sure, but the atmosphere was convivial, almost celebratory. The crowd was mostly young people, many sharing bottles of wine or smoking, some with painted faces. It was an incredible scene. It turned out to be a protest against the austerity measures that President Francois Hollande wants to institute in response to the financial crisis. It was a peaceful march, and we survived chagrinned and entertained.

We came back to the apartment, dropped off our things, had a little wine and chocolate (one must enjoy bonbons regularly in Paris!), and then grabbed a quick dinner at what amounts to a local dinner just down the street--nothing to write home about.

A couple of other quick notes:
--There's a movie theater on our street that, among other things, shows Rocky Horror regularly. I was tickled to see the posters for the showings upon our arrival here.
--I took a little time yesterday to plan our trip back to the airport, only to discover that the cab company billed me three times for the service; I must call them today to straighten it out. ::grumble::

Chocolates: chocolate-covered almonds and a dark-chocolate covered creme with Madagascar vanilla
Steps for the day: 12,746