hey, super girl

(And yes, I realize that basically all of these came from Twitter.)

• Creative NonFiction is having a little Twitter contest that is super fun, here’s their tweet: “Forget 6-word memoirs. Can you tell a true story in 130 characters or less? Prove it. Trend topic #cnftweet, and we’ll RT our fave everyday!” I recommend giving it a try, here are some of my attempts:
  — As a kid, I knew I would grow up to be a great writer. At twenty-one I set goals. At twenty-six I started to get very nervous.
  —To end an awful date I once told a guy I could not come inside because I had to go to church the next day. I don’t attend church.
  —To end an awful date I once told a guy I could not come inside because I had to go to church the next day. I don’t attend church.
• Awesome Twitter/blogger Mari Walker has a very funny blog post on Top 10 comments to annoy geek girls. It’s very funny and everyone ought to hear from someone other than me that geek girls are not some rare, exotic bird.
• Another Twitter/blogger/friend of mine, Mary Richert has a really charming post on The Nervous Breakdown: Magic Coffee Eases Recession Woes. I don’t drink coffee, but it almost makes me want to.
• If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I really can’t stand Megan Fox and the only way I’m going to go see the new Transformers movie is if Devin slips something into my drink. I also can’t stand Michael Bay, but I do love this YouTube clip that completely sums up his directing skills: Robot Chicken: Baysplosions!!!
• Oh, I’m moving to next Saturday and I really should be packing, but clearly I’m not.

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misc., social networking, The Internets

The thing that irritates me the most about social networking, aside from all those “social media experts” and “entrepreneurs” on Twitter, is how many people seem to think you owe them a digital friendship for whatever reason.

Unlike an awful lot of people on this here Internet, I don’t use social networking sites to take quizzes, send people drinks, post half-naked or completely naked pictures of myself, or otherwise act like a buffoon. Sorry, I’m just not into sharing that much of myself. I (attempt to) use things like LinkedIn, Twitter, and to a dramatically lesser extent Facebook, to share things that I’ve written, connect with other professionals, and basically exchange information and ideas.

I enjoy being able to connect with people I used to work with at the paper, old co-workers, good friends from high school, and know that everyone is doing well. I really like it when I meet other fantastic writers and am able to exchange ideas or commiserate over the difficulties we face in an industry that doesn’t currently know if it’s coming or going. (Let me tell you, whenever this whole new media vs. old media thing sorts itself out I am going so going to have an awesome job because I understand and fear neither.) And I love talking comics with people.

However, just because I vaguely knew you at some point in my life and you haven’t spoken to me in 10 years doesn’t mean I owe you a connection. Do you think I don’t know that you’re not requesting me out of some kind of morbid curiosity to see if I’ve gotten fat or turned my life into some kind of train wreck? Look people I totally understand morbid curiosity; I secretly read Entertainment Weekly’s recaps of Jon and Kate + 8, but you’re not entitled to my digital companionship.

Plus, I keep information about myself to a pretty bare bones type of situation online. I’m far more interesting in real life.

I don’t know why we’re all perfectly okay with the way social networking has turned millions of adults into a collective group of toddlers. You’re not going to make me upset by yelling at me on the Internet, by de-friending me if I don’t join your (fill in the blank) or because I won’t become a fan of God, morning sex or Matt Damon. (For the record, I hate most of Matt Damon’s films.) I won’t cry if you stop following me on Twitter because I mention Obama or Sarah Palin’s name, regardless of the context, and I’ll probably eventually block you or remove you if I get the sense that you only want to “be my friend” for some strange voyeuristic reason that may in fact border on cyber stalking. I also reserve the right to not be your friend, no offense as you’re probably perfectly lovely but I’d rather actually get to know a select group of people than collect 1,000 of you like some perverse game of Pokemon.

Perhaps I’m doing nothing but making myself sound extremely unfriendly. But is it possible that we could stand to be a little less friendly online?

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social networking, The Internets

You know, I remember a point in time where my mother worried about me if I went over my friends’ house and did nothing but play video games.

Now my little sister, who is pretty much the anti-gamer, has mentioned how she would like to get a Wii at some point. Several of my friends who would hang up on me for talking about video games as a teenager are now addicted to things like Rock Band and Wii Fit. Causal gaming is on the rise and old gamers, who expect more substance than vaguely waggling a Wiimote at Mario, always Mario, are being left by the waste side. Preliminary reports from E3 are indicating that Sony and Microsoft are looking to cut into Nintendo’s massive share of the casual gaming market, thus presumably making games with actual content even more rare. Microsoft is actually planning to make a console without controllers - oh joy.

For the record, I have always gamed almost exclusively on consoles. I frankly don’t like keeping up with the PC gaming market and often like the titles available on consoles better. I don’t fancy myself to be a pro, but it’s been a hobby of mine since I was a little kid.

Now, I have fully braced myself for the accusation that casual gaming irritates me (and oh, how it irritates me; I give the Wii a nasty look every time I happen to glance at it) simply because gaming is now trendy and accessible. I suppose there is probably some degree of truth in this, but I assure you that my irritation is largely based in my actual experiences with casual gaming.

Let’s take Wii Sports and Wii Fit for starters. If I want something that’s going to simulate a variety of different exercises and activities I’ll just go out and get a Total Gym, burn more calories and perhaps watch a movie or read a book while I’m at it, depending on my exercise level. The concept of getting a group of people over to play tennis on my Wii actually makes my brain bleed. Why not take them outside, to the actual tennis courts and play real tennis? Did I seriously spend $250 (the current price of the Wii on Amazon) for this?

Moving right along to Wario, Rayman and Mario I get that these are “party games.” I can have a bunch of people over, have some beers and smack around some creepy rabbits. Stellar. But you know what, it gets old. You’ve played one Wario Ware you’ve played them all, and the same can be said for basically ever game in the much abused Mario franchise. I would even go so far as to say that mini games in general get old. Great, let’s yet again shoot water at some psychotic bunnies, maybe we’ll beat our scores again, or maybe we’ll just knock over the beer and laugh at that instead.

I want challenges from a game. I want to use my brain. I want something that has replay value and side quests that will keep me entertained long past the playable hours it takes to complete the game. In the past this sometimes came in the form of RPGs, sometimes survival horror and sometimes action games. Unlike some, I wouldn’t yet go so far as to say innovation in the industry is dead. Innovation still happens, it just happens less frequently. I have scores of games from my older systems and two for my PS3, one for the 360 and none for the Wii. The reports coming from E3 only fill me with anxiety regarding my future as a gamer.

So screw you Nintendo, Sony and Microsoft. Screw casual gaming. Perhaps you three should read this.

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geekery, video games

The scene: A young woman and her fiancé are laying in bed half watching TV. The dog lies at the foot of the bed, gnawing on her foot.

Notes to the audience: Nick Davis is the Turk to Devin’s JD. The Robin to his Batman. The Bucky to his Cap. Together they have an imaginary Web comic, We Have T-Rex.

Devin: “I’ve been breaking out a lot this week, and I don’t know why.”

Me: “Maybe you’re pregnant with Nick Davis’ baby. A baby T-Rex.”

(Devin’s eyes light up.)

Devin: “That would be awesome.”

Me: “What would you name him?”

Devin: (after a long pause) Jasper.

Me: “Like from Twilight?”

Devin: “No. I guess I’d have to name him Not Twilight. No. I’d name him Bigglesworth.”

Me: “Good name.”

Devin: “I’m sure he’d face discrimination, being a T-Rex and all. He’d face protests from vegetarians. He might get into trouble for eating people.”

END SCENE

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Devin

The first time I wore red lipstick; I was thirteen years old and dancing in my room to The Smashing Pumpkins. I wasn’t yet allowed to wear makeup, but my parents and sister were out and I had stolen my mother’s makeup box. I carefully made my face up in different looks that I thought were appropriate for the music. Afterwards, I scrubbed my face extra carefully in the hopes of revealing no traces of this experiment to my mother.

Much later, at seventeen, I again wore red lipstick for an experiment of sorts. I reasoned that if I could draw some very specific attention to my lips that a boy I liked would instantly notice how kissable and interesting I was. I believed that I was an extremely interesting teenager. I applied my shiny red weapon at lunch, and during eighth period he told me that he only liked me as a friend and had instead asked my friend Chrissy to be his girlfriend.

Today, I am not thirteen and I am not seventeen, but I’m wearing red lipstick anyway. I go to the bank and a few other stores. People smile hello at me and I smile back. Part of me wonders if all these years later I look like the pretty and interesting girl I was striving for at seventeen, or the geeky little kid playing dress up at thirteen.

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misc., non-fiction

Athena, wearing the bath mat at Devin’s behest.

Devin: “Athena, where are you going!” (waves mini-pizza box frantically in air) “I’ve made armor for you!”

(Thankfully the dog is very well tempered)

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Athena, Devin

You know, there’s a lot of bad manga out there. I mean really, profoundly bad manga that’s basically the equivalent of an expensive Harlequin romance novel. There’s also a lot of really good manga out there, which doesn’t fall into the typical shojo or shonen genres and as such flies under the radar. Here are a two titles I like a lot, and some others that I’ve fallen out of love with.

Solanin by Asano Inio: We all have that feeling at some point in our post-college lives; we’re meant to be doing more than this mundane job, or alternately that we’re not suited for “grownup life.” Meiko Inoue feels unfit for the real world while her boyfriend Naruo is quietly consumed by his passion for music. What’s really endearing about this book is that there is no quick rise to stardom that assuages all the characters fears and insecurities. At the beginning this is a cast of twenty-something college graduates trying to figure out how to cope with life. They are ordinary. By the conclusion they remain ordinary and they’re still working toward coping with life, they’re just a little wiser for it.

This can be a difficult book; it’s immensely heart wrenching, especially when Meiko finally gives her one and only live performance of Solanin. At the same time, it’s refreshing to see a frank and honest look at the hard questions that everyone asks while trying to assimilate into the real world. I like that the band is never discovered and that instead jobs must be found and the characters still have to work, quietly pursuing their dreams around their jobs and other commitments necessary to survive.

Slightly irrelevant anecdote: This is currently being made into a live-action movie starring Aoi Miyazaki, who played Hachi in the film adaptation of Nana.

Sexy Voice and Robo by Iou Kuroda: Everything about this manga is interesting and different. The art style is strange (but you’ll grow to love it, I promise) and the premise is something akin to Inspector Gadget meets Veronica Mars.

Nico Hayashi is a 14-year-old girl who masquerades as a dating service phone operator, which is not nearly as creepy as it seems, mostly because she’s secretly a detective. Well, she falls into being a detective, but given her wit and intelligence it seems natural despite her young age. The 13 short stories follow Nico in her adventures working for a kind, elderly gangster, picking up a nerdy older sidekick whom she dubs Robo.

The stories are funny and can be read as stand-alone tales, but do contain ongoing themes. The characters are convincing and funny, Nico herself is a delight as a heroine.

Meanwhile, I am completely over Bleach by Tite Kubo and Nana by Ai Yazawa. I’ve heard people complain that Bleach jumped the shark after the first story arch, I disagree with that because the main villain, Aizen, was introduced after Ichigo successfully saves Rukia. What is aggravating in regards to Bleach is how long it took for the characters to confront him, and how Ichigo constantly sways between enlightenment and stupidity. There’s a serious lack of progression on Ichigo’s part, instead he remains in a holding pattern of growing and falling back.

By contrast Nana has character development, it just all went flying out the window after volume seven when Hachi found out she was pregnant and became a gold digger, abandoning the man she was supposedly in love with for someone who could give her a comfortable life. Nana Osaki then becomes, well, a weenie, who is completely unable to confront either her friend and or her drug-addict boyfriend. What I once loved about this series was the strong bond between Nana and Hachi, but it seems as though the story reached a point where it presented conflict for the sake of doing so, and perhaps also for continuing the series.

If you liked Nana but have also given up on it, try Paradise Kiss which is also by Yazawa. At just five volumes, this series is both beautiful and sad.

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otaku, reviews

As you may or may not know, I lost a significant amount of weight last year. Exact numbers aren’t important, and are still slightly embarrassing, but feel free to check out this amusing visual of me from my heaviest to thinnest at Digital Overload 2007, 2008 and 2009.

Yes, I’m also keenly well aware of the fact that I have an enormous nose and my outfit is terrible in the first picture. The moral of this weight gain story is that you can’t go from living and working an area where you walk 40 percent of the time to suddenly never walking anywhere and not expect things to catch up with you. Funny anecdote, when I moved here three years ago I once again owned a car for the first time in two years; I miss the freedom of not being a slave to a hunk of steel.

By contrast, the moral of my weight loss story is simple: exercise and meal planning. I run a lot and eat by what I call “faux vegetarian” standards. That is to say I don’t eat beef or pork, I do eat chicken and fish but not every day and I eat a lot of veggies, drink a lot of water and when I can get organic food. I have no moral object to eating beef or pork, and I will occasionally make an exception for my dad’s barbecue (the man can grill a burger like no one else alive) but I just feel terrible when I eat it and it seems to sit in my stomach.

Now as much as I love a good Oreo milkshake or a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, and let me be frank I am a hardcore chocolate lover even now, I also love eating healthy. I feel good and satisfied eating fruits and vegetables and whole wheat or multi-grain bread. What I don’t love is the skyrocketing prices of my grocery bill.

This week, Devin and I knew we were going to go to Whole Foods (or Whole Paycheck, as I prefer to call them) and stock up on good produce, veggies and he even wanted to try to find super lean steaks. My fiancée  the meat eater, if it’s not bleeding and mooing he’s not interested. By chance we were at Target the night before to get cleaning products and Devin decided to pick up a few fast fix dinners, i.e., microwaveable things that can be made in minutes. Much to our surprise we discovered that things like the fake lasagna he likes were $3-4 cheaper than the regular grocery store. In the end we got a bunch of cleaning products and basic/fast dinner items for $30.

Now we have a tendency to over-spend at Whole Foods; their produce is just so lovely and they have so many fish options that the regular grocery store doesn’t have. Plus I’m a sucker for their cookies and cream frozen yogurt. Did we overspend again? Yes, we did. But we also got a bunch of things that we probably should have picked up at Target for the more expensive Whole Foods Price.

I like being healthy. I like eating healthy. Ideally, I’d like to kick things like microwavable meals (full of sodium) to the curb and eat healthy for all our meals. But right now we don’t have a lifestyle that is indicative of cooking, or a paycheck that warrants shopping 100 percent at stores like Whole Foods. It seems like a shame to cut things that are pricey, like good fruit, off the grocery list but more of a balance needs to be struck. Maybe Devin needs to suck it up and eat more chicken, which is far less expensive than beef. Maybe fish only gets to happen on the weekends.

I’ve read a lot of articles about how to save on just about anything in this crummy economy: gas, clothing, entertainment, how to buy cheap food even cheaper but nothing about how to eat healthy on the cheap. I’m wondering what kind of options there are to maintain healthy eating habits but still remain budget conscious.

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misc., organic green and healthy

This morning’s breakfast read, an article in the Business Insider on how John Edwards’ mistress Rielle Hunter should respond to Elizabeth Edwards, and economically profit filled me with the urge to immediately expel my muffin from my stomach.

I was even more surprised to find criticisms of Elizabeth Edwards for the interview she gave Oprah on Thursday, specifically how she refuses to acknowledge Hunter by name and paints her as pathetic. I thought her confessions were tame, frank and warranted given the context of the affair; it came during the midst of his presidential campaign and her breast cancer diagnosis. Obviously Edwards was humiliated. Hunter knew he was a married man, knew who his wife was and in my opinion is deserving neither sympathy or a single red cent of her former lover’s money.

From a simple standpoint of morality and integrity I feel as though Hunter is indeed pathetic. Did she somehow think that John Edwards was going to leave his wife for her, or did she just feel no regard for a man with a family and a wife dying of cancer? I can’t even fathom the logic behind such a callous decision to pursue a person in a relationship, let alone under such a context. I’m sorry, but Ms. Hunter you deserve to have your name drug through the mud and have no one to blame but yourself.

The insinuation on the part of the Business Insider that Hunter somehow deserves money from Edwards disturbs me.  In this day and age I feel as though we all know what may happen when two adults get together and do the no pants dance. Last time I checked there were no claims that Edwards promised Hunter love, affection or his protection. He was a sperm donor, plain and simple; a sperm donor that may not even be the father. How does this entitle Hunter to any of his money? He was not in a relationship or a marriage with her and presuming that it is indeed his child she chose of her own accord to keep and raise it.

For the record, I’m not just taking this stance in this situation. I strongly support a woman’s right to choose, and in accordance with that right I don’t think that child support is always 100 percent warranted without question. If two people plan to have a child and someone punks out, sure, child support makes sense. In the case of an affair or one night stand, a no commitment situation with two willing adults who understand the risks of unwanted pregnancies, well maybe it doesn’t so much make sense there.

What Hunter ought to do is stay out of the limelight and concentrate on raising that little girl. She has no more claim to Edwards than a woman who walks into a sperm bank. What that child deserves is to be brought up in a stable environment and not used as a pawn to secure money from a man who already has a family and a dying wife. If Edwards choose to be part of the baby’s life and support the child then so be it, but does he really owe Hunter anything. His political career is lying in waste, what does it matter if the public turns on him now.

As far as Elizabeth Edwards is concerned I don’t blame her for going on Oprah, for writing her book or for refusing to acknowledge the interloper who may have potentially destroyed her relationship with her husband. The woman was publically humiliated while dying of cancer. I think I would have reacted the same way she has. No, scratch that, I probably would have gone after Rielle Hunter with a vengeance.

Rielle Hunter, you are the worst sort of woman, the kind that gives our gender a bad name. Do everyone a favor and stay hidden in New Jersey, focus your attention on your daughter and forget you ever knew a man named John Edwards.

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girl rage, The Internets