The Force has left this one in leave of their senses

I know I promised to go over my Thanksgiving exploits today, but that will have to wait for Friday as the photographs are still on the beasty's camera.  Let's move on.

Guess who was given access codes to The Old Republic beta?  No, not me.  While my darling little netbook does so many useful things, it does not handle complex games.  Beasty's computer, however, does quite well, and so he alternated between Jedi Knight and Trooper for most of this past weekend.  I was perched nearby, curiously watching his progress, and decided to pop on to the Star Wars wiki page, Wookieepedia.  I think it started with me asking if there was something about being a Sith that made you get ugly and go bald, and the beasty told me to go look up his favorite Sith, Darth Talon.  After giving him the "God, you're so male" glare, I decided to actually read the article about the busty, tattooed Twi'lek which of course led me to clicking on several links as I'm not very familiar with the Star Wars 'verse outside of the original three films.

I proceeded to spend the next few hours reading article after article about the absurdly complex universe the Star Wars fandom has built.  I would also like to say in my defense that I had a nasty cold and wasn't up to doing anything more strenuous than reading anyway.  One article would inexorably lead to another, and I learned more about the Sith and Jedi in one evening than I have in sixteen years of being besties with a hardcore Star Wars fan girl.   Said wiki-walk has left me very disappointed with the Sith.  But let me tell you why!

First, for those of you who have no idea what "Sith" means, go here.  I'll wait.  The rest of the class will have a spot of tea whilst you educate yourself.

All set now?  Good, let's plunge ahead.

Let's start with the Code of the Sith.  I have no problem with the code, and in fact I honestly prefer it over the Jedi code, given my nature.  It is as follows:

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.

While the potential for power-hungry ego-mania is certainly inherent, overall it's not that bad.  Yet, after an evening of reading, I have yet to see a single Sith actually live according to their own code.  Seriously, the Wiki even describes "most Sith" as being "cold and dispassionate".  Furthermore, they don't seem particularly "free".  Most Sith are unswervingly loyal pawns to their Masters, except for the few who rise up and kill their Masters usually (it seems) on the orders of another Master.  Moreover, it seems the greatest thing any Sith can devote his or her unnatural, dark life to is the destruction of Jedi.  That's it.  You have all the power of a dark god and you're going to waste it hunting down these guys over here because of their vastly different philosophy.  Apparently all Sith are cold, psychopathic zealots who worship their dead leaders and have nothing better to do than wage holy wars.

I guess, in the end, I was hoping for something more interesting.  Now, I understand that the Star Wars universe needs a BBEG (or fifty), and that Sith make good BBEGs, but here's the thing.  There are passionate people with limitless resources who don't decide the only thing to do with their energy is go kill a rival sect or take over countries.  And I imagine that there's something about the Dark Side of the Force that makes all Sith into horrible, evil people who have no ambitions outside of accruing more power to kill more Jedi.  You're welcome to try to explain it to me, my minions.

In the meantime, I'm going to throttle down my urge to start writing fan fiction.

Super Ethical Thanksgiving Climax!

You'll have to pardon the title, the beasty picked up Saints Row III (pre-ordered it, in fact) and has been playing it every day these last two weeks, so it may have had more than a little bit of an influence when I was constructing this post.  However, I feel it represents the atmosphere of what I'm about to share with you - strange, but with excitement.

So (much) later today, my home will be taken over by dear friends and a special out-of-town guest for what we have labeled in the past "Friend Thanksgiving".  Now, in truth, this is my only Thanksgiving.  Last night we had meatloaf with gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, broccoli, and pie. You must understand, my minions, that we really don't have any family out here, and to us the point of Thanksgiving is not just to eat lots of food, but to eat lots of food surrounded by people you love.  I come from a fair sized family, and until we moved out to the Pacific Northwest, was within a short drive of much of my mother's side of the family for all of my previous adult life.  Thanksgiving has always been a social event for me - that's what made it matter.

So, lacking local family, but understanding that our friends still have familial obligations on the day of, we decided to save our effort and host an event on Friday.  Now, all of that out of the way, let us get to the important part of this post.  The menu.

At last year's Thanksgiving I had decided to try something different and put together a meal based around dishes inspired by ingredients native to the Pacific Northwest (and it went over quite well, I am happy to say).  This year, when considering what to make, and keeping in mind that everyone would be having the standard fair the day before, I had a flash of inspiration.  So this year, using traditional ingredients, I've constructed an Asian Fusion menu.  Which I will now share with you.

• Mandarin Spinach Salad 
• Cucumber Nori Salad
• Green bean & Shitake Stir Fry - my answer to the traditional green bean casserole
• Sweet Potatoes with Wasabi Teriyaki Glaze - made with wasabi mustard instead of paste in order to get a good flavor with less severe of a kick
• Oyster Yaki - inspired by takoyaki, this is my interpretation of a traditional oyster stuffing
• Sesame Slow Roasted Carrots
• Cantonese Style Roast Turkey - this is an adaptation of Cantonese Crispy Duck, only for turkeys
• Cranberry Pineapple Ginger Compote - some might argue I should have used orange, but I despise cranberry-orange anything
• Pumpkin Pie Ice Cream Mochi - the beasty actually suggested these when I realized I had initially forgotten dessert in my menu planning, and then offered to make them because he rocks
• Green Tea Cupcakes - a layer cake would have been more impressive, but after everything else I decided cupcakes would be less stressful

I leave you with this teaser picture of the cupcakes, which I baked early and will frost today.  On Monday I'll post pictures and give full reports of how everything came out and tasted, etc and so forth.

"Prince of Darkness" used to mean something

Anyone who knows me will probably be able to tell you that I have, for as long as I can remember, been a fan of most things vampiric.  Hence why this catastrophic phenomenon of sparkling vampires is so crushing to me.  However, we're not here to speak of the mournful assassination of both the novel and the vampire at once by a certain Mormon author.  Today we're here to talk about something that I only recently became aware of.  The vampire bite necklace.

Now, for clarification, I don't mean this:

Clever, perhaps even elegant, with effort involved in its design.

I mean this:

I've got extra materials and five minutes, let's slap together something I can sell to Twilight fans.

There is something about these necklaces that drive me crazy.  In their very limited defense, they're subtle.  I'm generally a fan of subtlty.  That said, they're about the laziest creation on the planet.  Seriously.  Let's take a chain, stick two spaced out red gems on it, and call it a tribute to vampirism.  They can be found all over Etsy.  Observe:

Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C
Exhibit D
Exhibit E

You get the idea.  I have ten more in different windows of my browser right now, and they all look the same save for small, largely insignificant differences.  And they all make me twitch a little inside.  Popular culture needs to stop trying to rob me of everything I once found dark and beautiful.

They're less...abrasive than you might expect

So, we're still knee deep in NaNoWriMO (don't ask me how I'm doing, I don't want to talk about it) but I didn't want to put up another sad excuse for a blog entry.  So I decided to just write about something easy instead.  Today I am sharing with you what has quickly become my favorite web comic.

Manly Guys Doing Manly Things is written by Kelly Turnbull, whom the internet knows as Coelasquid.  The comic only updates once a week, which makes me a little sad, but I respect that Kelly is a full-time professional animator and that this is just her fun little side project.  The comic follows the adventures of a temp agency deisgned to help integrate ridiculously macho guys back into society.  The head of the agency is one Commander Badass (yes, that is the only name you get for him).  It parodies comics and video games, so expect to see Kratos, Sten, Duke Nukem, Leonidas, and many others.

In Kelly's own words: "Sometime this is a comic about macho action heroes. Sometimes this is a slice of life comic about a time traveling Navy SEAL single dad from the nonspecific spacefuture. Really, it just depends on how things were going that day."

Also, if you go into the "Extras" section, she has a handful of other silly comics.  My favorite of these is posted below.  I'm not posting anything from Manly Guys because I want you all to actually go read it.  Go, my minions!

Image by Kelly Turnbull.  If you don't recognize the characters, go play more video games.

While there's tea, there's hope

I have, at one or two points in my life, been accused of anglophilia (a particular love for and obsession with British culture).  Now, I don't necessarily think this is accurate.  I mean, do I find Bill Bailey and Eddie Izzard to be completely hilarious?  Yes.  Do I adore Stephen Fry?  Yes.  However, this does not instill in me a great love of all British comedians or actors simply because they are British.  I love these men because they're brilliant.  There's a difference.

And granted, I do have a bit of a thing for British colloquialisms and phrasing because I prefer the sound of it over many American colloquialisms.  However, I don't make a point of studying it, and it doesn't make its way into my every day speech that often, save for a few words and phrases (bloody, brilliant, and spot on mostly).

All this said, there is one area in my life where I may have to bite my tongue and accept my anglophile title.  And that is tea.  Oh, how I love tea.  In high school that was all I had for breakfast for three years - mornings began with either Earl Grey or Yorkshire Gold, and nothing further would be ingested until lunchtime.  There is a cup of Earl Grey sitting next to me as I write this.  More than just the drink by itself, however, I adore the tradition of the afternoon tea.

From Taking Tea With Alice by Dawn Hylton & Diane Sedo

There was a tea room a block from my high school, and one of my dearest friends and I would be there a minimum of once a week and sit for two hours with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.  Occasionally, when we had scraped up the money to do so, we would have full tea with scones, jam, clotted cream, Digestives and Jammy Dodgers, cucumber and tomato sandwiches, and it was a proper, dignified moment of ecstasy that I still remember with utter fondness.  So many days were spent in that tea room, dreaming of what would be and planning and scheming for the future over cups of the most lovely house blend.

I will still host teas when I have a receptive audience.  My tea cup collection is impressive, as is my collection of pots, and I try to make it a habit of always having at least two varieties of biscuits on hand.  I have two very large drawers in my kitchen that are devoted entirely to teas and drinking chocolate.  My recipe book is full of different tea sandwich recipes, and I know the best places to pick up loose leaf or bagged varieties not only in my own neighborhood but in many neighborhoods in Seattle.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for another cup.  Do not worry, there will be more on this subject later.

I can write lamer excuses...

Well, my minions, we're deep into NaNoWriMo now and I'm about ready to fall on my face and pass out after a very long day, but don't you think I've forgotten about you!

Well, that's actually not entirely true, but let me explain!  It's not that I forgot I had a blog entry coming up, it was more a matter of time.  Time is always the problem you see.  In this particular instance, I ran out of time to finishing editing pictures for blogging goodness.

So for today you get a random but appropriate picture from my hard drive.  Aren't you lucky.  Entries of merit will pick up again on Monday.

Quickly, use the umbrella to hide our shame!

Delicious fluff and nonsense

Can anyone remember the first time they had hot cocoa with marshmallows?  I cannot.  I've tried, but all I can recall is it being a mainstay during the fall and winter.  Even when we lived in Florida and didn't really need a warm drink.  I remember it being something that equally delighted my younger brother and I.  I also remember arguments over marshmallows, but the details are a little fuzzy.

Now, my minions, this is vitally important - marshmallows are what make instant hot cocoa good.  The right marshmallows can almost propel it into excellence (though let's face it, it will never be on par with a good drinking chocolate).  I present to you Exhibit A:

Lean in close and smell the deliciousness.

Here we have an instant cocoa made with my new Keurig.  Alone, it would be unremarkable, but we have added the ever important marshmallow.  And not just any marshmallow - this marshmallow is a vanilla marshmallow made by Rubicon Bakery from all natural ingredients (you can find them at Metropolitan Market).  It's gigantic - I actually had to cut it in half to keep my cup from overflowing.  And it's soooo good.

If you have never had a bakery or confectionery marshmallow, then you have no idea what I'm talking about.  The difference is significant.  Granted, Rubicon Bakery isn't local and is produced elsewhere and distributed, but it's still a bakery.  It's not like the marshmallows you buy in the cooking aisle.  Those are good for making lazy fudge and not much else.  You certainly wouldn't just eat them, and while you could throw them in cocoa it wouldn't make it a remarkable experience.  Okay, I'm exaggerating about it being a remarkable experience, but it is certainly the difference between not bad and good.  Perhaps even great.  Or as great as instant anything can get.

So here is your minion assignment - find yourself a place that sells real marshmallows.  They can come in a fun range of varieties with various additions like flavors, chocolate, nuts, sanding sugar, the list goes on.  There's even a couple places online that make super tasty marshmallow wonders and will ship them to you right quick.    I've never tried them, but I hear Marshmallow Heaven and Madyson's Marshmallows are good.  Though, y'know, I can't actually recommend them.  So that is your assignment!  Now go!

Thoughts on Duke (and I don't mean John Wayne)

Another day, another rambling.

Those of you who are familiar with my beasty will be unfazed to hear that he purchased a copy of Duke Nukem Forever about a month back when it was on sale.  As such, he's already finished the game and has been trying out the multiplayer.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Duke Nukem franchise, I would like to offer the following image:

So take that in for a moment.  We have a man carved from a block of pure machismo, sitting on a throne that has "Hail to the King" written across the top in gold script (hard to read at this size, I know, the original image was quite large), with identical twins in slutty school girl uniforms clinging to him.  If this does not tell you everything you ever needed to know about Duke Nukem, you are charmingly naive and must tell me about the lovely secluded society you were raised in.

To say that there is objectification of women in Duke Nukem Forever is like pointing out that grass is green and the ocean has a few fish in it.  That is, for those of you who have issues with analogy, painfully obvious and a bit of an understatement.  The game reeks of it.  The male lead is a caricature of an all-American chauvinist pig.  Most of the time it's funny as hell, sometimes it crosses the line into retarded, and it offends a lot of people.

That said, I'm really tired of listening to women complain about the game.  My sisters - get over it.  No, really.  You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you picked up this title, and the fact that you're going on and on about how it's sexist and horrible leads me to hope that you never pass on your genes.  It's right up there with parents who buy rated M games for their children, then bring them back to the store angry because they're violent.  While I may not be a fan of the game, I have to admire that it has at no point tried to disguise what it is.  In fact, it has held it up like a blazing nuclear torch in the night.  Moreover, it is so comical, so absurd, so distant from reality.  

Ladies, I implore you, save your rage for a cause that needs it.  This may make me a horrible feminist, but I believe that there are times when we have to stand up and fight, and there are times when we have to laugh at an absurd farce of a fantasy when we see one.  Use your influence to encourage games with strong female characters with full-coverage armor.  Vote with your dollars, get on forums, and push for positive change.  I want you to do all of these things!  And, for the love of all that is holy, don't buy a game and then throw screaming tantrums because it was exactly as advertised.

All Hallow's Tide

Today is the day, my minions.  The moment that the month has been leading up to.  The culmination of thirty days (and more) of anticipation!  It all comes together in this one night!  Well, okay, the festivities for me began over the weekend.

I had a little costume project, to dress up every day for the week leading up to Halloween, but that didn't end up happening.  Instead, I started Friday, though admittedly Friday's effort consisted of black and purple clothing with a plethora of spider accessories.  Including an adorable jeweled spider headband that I found in Pier One of all places.  Saturday during the day wasn't as festive, largely because my hair was in pin curls all day in anticipation of the evening's events.  Still, one must put in at least a little effort.  Specifically in the form of eyeball earrings.

Speaking of that evening - after agonizing over what event to go to, we finally decided on Seduction, the party hosted by the lovelies at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival (which, if you are able come May, you should most certainly go check out).  It was at Fremont Studios, which is a delightful venue and quite spacious.  When SEAF moved from the Seattle Center to Fremont Studios, I could not have been happier.

The place was fantastically decorated, and the music was pretty good.  I had only one small issue with the music, but this is an issue I've had with Seattle DJs in general.  I understand keeping the tempo easy early in the evening, but once you hit about 10pm or so, particularly if you already have a good crowd, you need to start picking it up.  I don't care if it's your favorite mix, I can't dance to it, and this room is set up as a dance floor, not a lounge.  Anyway, pacing aside, the music was good.  And the costumes!  Oh, I cannot tell you how gratifying it was to see so many good costumes that you knew involved a great deal of effort.  I wish I had brought my camera.

Speaking of costumes, I myself ended up reprising my wedding ensemble with more dramatic make-up and a few fun accessories.  We had costumes all planned out, and then realized somewhat late in the game that our costumes were a little too casual for the event we were planning to attend.

Sunday was spent in preparation for the 31st.  Believe me, that kept Sunday quite busy.

And with that, I'm off to experience the day's delightful deviousness!  If I do anything of great note, and remember to have a camera on me, I may have an extra journal entry regarding it.  But not to leave you empty handed, here is the photo booth image from Saturday night.

Happy Halloween, my minions!

And today's rage is brought to you by...

The following blog post is full of a lot of rage, and initially contained a fair bit of foul language but I went back and cleaned it up a little.  Also, if you are Christian, and you are sensitive to criticism of your religion or things followers of your religion do, you may want to pop out for this one.

So I'm sitting here this morning, drinking my chai, a little cold and sleepy but mostly happy with the world.  At which point the beasty sends me this.  My initial reaction was, and I quote, "Are you f**king serious?".  After a small amount of research, I discover that yes indeed, they are serious.

So here's the deal, my minions.  There are a group of well-meaning fanatics trying to push forward an event called Jesusween.  Basically since they have deep issues with innocent fun and they can't let anybody be happy if they're not, they want to change the name to Jesusween and make it a "Christian giving holiday".  This was apparently inspired by some pastor who handed out pocket-sized abridged New Testament bibles to kids instead of candy some time in early 2000s and was lucky that he didn't get his house egged (not that I condone or have ever resorted to such actions, but I know plenty who have).  They feel that the holiday should be spent rededicating your life to Christ.  The following paragraph is my response to this effort.

No, and shame on you.  Seriously.  You already stole two major holidays from the pagans, you can back the hell away from Halloween.  And yes, I know that Halloween is not celebrated in the same manner nor with the same spirit as Samhain once was (and still is, if you know where to go) but I don't care.  Keep your sticky hands off my holiday.  Do you not have anything better to do?  Actually, I've got a great idea, if you want to focus more on rededicating your life to Christ why don't you do it during Easter or Christmas instead of spending all of your time and money shopping and hosting lavish dinners.  Try that.  Better yet, skip the tree this year (since you stole that from the pagans too) and all other ornamentation or frivolity and just sit in quiet contemplation about your own after-life.  While you're at it, try accepting that not everyone in the world is Christian, and until you convert the rest of us you don't get to make all the rules.  And finally, LEAVE MY HOLIDAYS ALONE!

I'm going to go hang my bat garland on the windows and try to forget this ever happened.

But I just figured out THAC0!

It should come as no surprise to my loyal minions that I still indulge in a handful of my juvenile pastimes, one of my favorite being role playing.  No, not the naughty kind - that's for another post.  I mean good old-fashioned table top rpgs (role-playing games not rocket-propelled grenades).  Table top only, however - I do not LARP.

Anyway, since I've been at this particular habit for a while now, I've seen most of the games I enjoy go through a number of editions.  Which is fine, I understand the need to tweak rules that aren't working and expand the reality, etc and so forth.  I also understand that it can be difficult to turn a profit in the business.  Well, think about it - let's say you have a group of six people who game together.  Out of those six, only two of them are likely to purchase the books, and that's me being generous - in my group only one person has the books, and that would be the person who runs that system.  Back to the example, though - two people buy the core rule books, and maybe they each purchase a couple expansions or race/class/clan books.  At this point, they're done.  The company will not make any more money off of this group, unless they continue to come out with new expansions, new books, and new editions.

I understand all of this.  That said, there comes a point where it's just bloody ridiculous.  This is why Dungeons and Dragons is now dead to me.  So we go from the original and then move on to Advanced Dungeons and Dragons which incorporates fun things like THAC0 (took me five years to figure that one out).  Then, when we've finally figured out the rules for AD&D we get Dungeons and Dragons 3 and 3.5, which was very pretty, got rid of THAC0 entirely, brought about that annoying cross-class skill penalty nonsense, but was livable enough with the addition of a few house rules.  And let's face it, they have yet to make a game system that doesn't need a few house rules.  Now we have Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition.  No.  No, no, a thousand times no, I'm not doing it, you can go try to appeal more to the MMO demographic all you want but you will do it without my financial contribution.  Good day, sir!

And don't even get me started on what White Wolf did.  Vampire: The Requiem can kiss my grits.

Brass gears and octopi, I say!

Greetings, minions.  We are here today to discuss SteamCon III (which was this past weekend), though not in any great depth because I only went on Saturday and didn't bother attending any panels because all the ones I cared about were in the morning before I could get there.

So first, a little about steampunk.  If you don't know what it is yet, go here.  I'll wait.  No really, go ahead.

All done?  Splendid.

I have said before, and continue to maintain, that the local steampunk community has disappointed me.  Not personally - they're mostly lovely people.  There are a few elitist snots - like the young woman whose booth I did not make a purchase at because despite my willingness to spend money she wouldn't stop chatting with her friend long enough to greet me or see if I needed anything - but there are elitist snots in every subculture, steampunk holds no special claim to them. My issue with steampunk has entirely to do with its evolution, and I limit my statements to the local community because I have no experience with steampunks outside of Seattle.  That said, for something based in fantasy - which is what it is, being an alternate history with fantasy and science fiction elements - it sure limits itself.  Most steampunks in the area that I have seen are pretty strictly Victorian with a little extra metal and gears thrown in.  This narrow view of the subculture is enforced by one of the higher ups at SteamCon, who won't allow representation of a broader scope.

The whole mess saddens me because I really enjoy a lot of the aesthetics behind steampunk.  I really do.  But I'll be damned if I'm going to let other people's lack of imagination limit my own.  Yet, subculture is a social thing, and not only difficult to maintain in solitude but less enjoyable.  So, the end result is little to no steampunk for me.  But that's enough about all that.

The con was fascinating as always.  I do enjoy seeing everyone so dressed up, even if it is largely repetitive.  I'm sad to say that I did not see the musical guest, which was Vagabond Opera, because unlike other cons I"ve visited SteamCon charges additionally for their concert and I wasn't interested in paying it at the time.  I do have a little piece of regret on that matter, but I'll survive.  They had the Seamonster DJ Dance for those who didn't get into the concert.

There were also a number of suite parties.  Steam Federation and Unhallowed Metropolis were hosting some lovely little events that were quite friendly.  The drinks were generous, it was fairly easy to slide into conversations, no one begrudged me a couple pictures, and had I not been there alone and driving myself home I probably would've spent the rest of the evening in one of those two rooms.  The Steampunk Exhibition Ball had a suite, but was experiencing issues getting set up and I did not wait around for them to open their doors.  There was one other group hosting a suite party - the suite was the most lavishly decorated out of all of them, but it was miserably hot, they had no greeter at the door, and the people inside were clustered around little tables set to look like an old fashioned gambling parlor and not addressing anyone who wasn't in their little clique.  They had a lovely bar set up, and professional bartender running it, but he didn't even know who he was working for, just the name of the man who'd hired him.  I didn't stay.

As of right now, I have no idea if I'll return next year.  The theme for next year is Victorian Monsters, which admittedly does intrigue me, but is the price of a day pass worth the potential for deep dissatisfaction?  I suppose we'll see.  And to end this entry on a positive note, let's showcase my poor photography skills with a few of the things at the con that pleased me.  It is worth noting that these were not the most elaborate/sophisticated/grand things I saw, but they were particularly unique, and that is what won them storage space on my camera.

She was so toxicly neon, it was fantastic.  All that was lacking was the bio-hazard symbols.

Gear armor is perhaps not terribly protective, but it is most certainly dashing.

This is Mantis.  I wanted his pants.  They're like the Utilikilt version of a hakama, and they're made by Last Wear.

I can has subculture?

Hello, my minions!  The clock has struck the midnight hour and it is time for me to pontificate at you once more. Mwa ha ha ha ha!

Ahem.  So I seem to recall mentioning that I was in school.  I am currently attending EdCC (or Edmonds Community College, for those of you playing the home game).  It shares a campus with the Lynnwood branch of Central Washington University, and as such is one of the "youngest" community colleges I've ever witnessed.  What I mean by that is there is a larger percentage of fresh-out-of-high-school teens at EdCC than one might normally expect.  There is even a (very) small on-campus dormitory/apartment building for the CWU kids.  It's a nice enough campus - a bit spread, but not ridiculously so, with a good combination of old and new buildings.  They offer a nice variety of classes, although their dance program is sadly lacking compared to other schools I've attended.  They even have a pleasantly diverse online course selection.  There's some absurd bureaucracy but you'll encounter that no matter where you are.  All in all, I'm happy with the school.

What I find most striking about the campus, however, is the lack of personal diversity.  Let me explain.  This is a very ethnically/racially diverse campus  - it is by far the biggest melting pot of cultures I have encountered in an institution of higher learning.  I think that's fantastic.  That said, they almost all seem to fit into one of three social circles - the hipsters, the fashionistas, and the "regular" kids.

The hipster population in Seattle is a little astounding to begin with.  For those of you who enjoy this sort of thing, I would like to encourage you to go to Fremont some time, find a coffee shop, and play a few rounds of hipster bingo.  They're everywhere - in Philosophy, I actually sit next to one of the cutest little hipsters I've ever met.  She even has the iconic glasses.  I'm sure in a few more years when she's old enough she'll be downing PBR and talking about how obscure all her interests are.

The fashionistas are how I refer to a certain roving sect of women I've seen on campus.  They are almost exclusively Asian - this is an actual observation, so don't start calling me names - but also include a number of white girls and a handful of Muslim women who sport some of the most fantastically bedazzled hijabs I have ever seen.  They are also exclusively women.  While there are a number of fashionably dressed young men on campus, none of them take it to the extreme these young women do.  These girls, no matter what the weather, always look like they just stepped off a runway.  They huddle together for warmth in colder months, because a heavy coat would cover and wrinkle their ensemble.  They slide all over the place if the parking lots ice over, because heaven forbid they trade out their ballet flats or stripper heels for something with traction.  The really funny part is that they're all wearing variations of the same outfit, but the absurdity aside I have to admit that they look good.  When I stop laughing as another one tries to cross the street and falls on her butt.

And then there is everyone else, and there really isn't a better way to describe it.  While you will on occasion see a lone person stand out - like the strange, unkempt gentleman who wears cat ears all the time, or the rather fashionable young man with the leather trench that always seems dressed as if he's about to head off for some affair - I really haven't noticed a representation of other social groups.  There are no goths, no metal heads, no kandi kids, not even any steampunks which is very surprising given the writhing life form that is the Seattle Steampunk community (more on that in a different entry).  The area is very trendy/preppy/whatever you want to call it, and that is what you see at the school.

Perhaps I'm wrong, though.  Perhaps it is there, and I just haven't found it yet.  Perhaps I need to look harder.

Everyone hail to the pumpkin song!

There's something darkly promising about this time of year.  The wind has a bite to it, the leaves are falling, and anticipation trembles in the air.  Here in the Subculture Empire, there is one day that reigns as the most celebrated and joyous of all.  Yes, my delightful minions, Halloween approaches.

There is nothing that calls out the little eyeliner-and-velvet clad imp deep inside me like All Hallow's Eve.  Ever since I was a little girl the day has filled me with titillation, and not just for the candy.  No, it was never about the candy.  Well, all right, fine - it was a little about the candy.  However, the real focus was the costumes.  The decadence, the ghost stories, the graveyards robed in moonlight.  As I grew older, the idea of creatures dark and mysterious whom I would know better than to dally with, but would be irresistibly drawn to anyway.  I do have a bit of a romantic streak in me, and a painfully vivid imagination, so this enchantment with the season grew exponentially with time.

As I write this I'm fighting the urge to pull out my long coat, bundle up, and go take a stroll through Holy Rood Cemetery down the way while dreaming of vampires and haunted crypts.  I know, I know, so terribly cliched, but I can't help myself.  Of course, at this point they'll be closed up and the gate locked, so I suppose it really doesn't matter.  Anyway!

I will confess that it has been some time since I've attended a Halloween celebration that lived up to my dreamings.  I would throw my own, but I lack a sufficiently sized venue and the budget to do so.  I strongly feel, however, that this will not always be the case.  Someday I will have the venue and the means with which to host an event of such spine chilling promise and demonic decadence that people will flock to my doors.  From that point I shall surely take over the earth.  Or something like that.

I have decided this year to extend my celebration to the week before the big day by planning out a series of costumes and themed ensembles to lead up towards the final hour.  I think this will be a delightful project that involves absurd amounts of black, crimson, and purple clothing and accessories.  It is my intention to document this little adventure - perhaps I shall share it here and hope to inspire my minions.

Top 5 Reasons I Hate Battlefield

In my household, it is generally agreed that video/computer games are a good thing.  My beasty is a bit of a PC Gamer Elitist, and I'm pretty firmly a Casual Console Gamer, but most of the time it's not an issue.  Besides, this just means that I can make him play all the interesting FPS's they make for the PC that I am incapable of playing because first person anything makes me nauseous.  Yes, I get motion sickness from Portal, but I still love it so.

However, one game that has never been able to win me over is the Battlefield franchise.  Not only has it not won me over, I've developed what is almost a seething hatred for it.  And today I'm going to tell you why!

1.  It's boring.  No, seriously, it is.  From a spectator's perspective, it's a damn boring game.  It's like watching guys play Halo.  I'd rather play Solitaire.

2. It doesn't inspire happiness in its players.  It is a miraculous day when my partner can go more than five minutes without screaming "God dammit!", "Fuck!", or "What the hell!?" while playing that game.  Being around that kind of rage is very stressful.

3. The self-imposed vacuum   Have you ever been in a room with someone listening to music on headphones, and every time you talk to them you have to repeat yourself five times?  Even though they keep insisting they can pay attention to you and listen to their music at the same time, it's very evident they can't.  Same concept.  My partner plays with friends, and that's fine, but that means I cease existing the minute that damn headset goes on.

4.  Douche bags online.  There are a lot of douches who play this game.  A lot.  When profanities aren't being hurled, accusations of cheating and noob-tubing are.  Dear assholes online - put down the Carl Gustav and log off, your mother would like you to shower for the first time in a week.

5.  Little sense of reward.  It is hard to step away from that game happy.  You don't save the princess or the world or even the neighborhood, and even if your team wins you'll have spent most of the round screaming at the hackers and noobs and sometimes just the game in general (aim isn't always what it should be).  There's no story, no nothing, just the same set of maps from now until oblivion.

So there you have it.  A perceptive minion will likely point out that my problem is based more around the way my partner plays the game than the game itself, but I'm fairly certain I would hate the game no matter how he or anyone else played it.  Just saying.

Goth or Not?

I think, if no one has come up with this concept, Goth or Not should be the new absurd meat-market website to grace the internet.  It would be just like Hot or Not only with one fairly obvious difference.  I almost got an account on Hot or Not back when I heard about it eons ago and I was hoping the internet could bolster my opinion of myself.  I have since learned two things.  First, that the internet never makes you feel better in the long run.  Second, that only I can improve my opinion of myself.

It makes me a little sad to admit that if forced to examine myself and vote Goth or Not, I would be forced to say "Not".  Out of all the subcultures I have felt an affinity with over the years, goth has certainly called to me the strongest and most consistently.  Which really says something, since I freely admit to being a genre dilettante at times.  However, though I still have my gothy little core deep inside, I just haven't been able to stick with it.

The biggest reason is fashion related.  I still listen to the music, I still love old cemeteries, and Halloween in all its grandeur and glory with forever be my favorite holiday.  The clothes and the look, however, have tripped me up again and again.  And it's mostly because of my size.  I am not a delicate woman.  I would say I am Rubenesque.  Less polite people would say I was fat.  Now, do you have any idea how hard it is to find black pants that are not dress slacks in a size 18 which are boot or flare cut?  Being the naughty minions that I know you are, you're probably laughing right now, but I'm very serious.  Now, I can find black skinny jeans in my size, but let me make something very clear to everyone reading - if you are heavy, and more so if you happen to be more hourglass or pear shaped, you should never under any circumstances wear skinny jeans.

There are other aspects of the look that don't work for me as well.  The staple of black hair is completely out.  I do not have the coloring for it, being naturally a dark blonde (or at least I was years ago before I started dyeing my hair regularly).  Also, how time intensive it can be - sure, I could probably pull off a more elegant look in my size as black skirts and blouses are easier to come by, but I'm a roll out of bed and pull on jeans and a flattering shirt type of girl.  Seventy-five percent of the time, at least.

Ah well.  It seems there is nothing to do but go catch up on Gothic Charm School and fight down my sense of despair as I fold my pile of blue jeans.

Children, learn from this example

Hello again, my minions.

Now, I understand that many people vastly overuse the phrase "killing rage" without actually meaning it.  I am very tempted to join that group of people because I almost mean it.  I have a small problem, you see.  Let me explain.

I am currently enrolled at the local community college (which is its own adventure, but we'll get into that later).  A lady does not discuss her age, but let us say I have a few years behind me and so that gives me a somewhat differing perspective on my class mates.  This quarter, I am enrolled in a Philosophy course, and there is one young man in that class that will be lucky if he survives until December at the rate he's going.

What we have here, my minions, is the poster child for the stereotypical male know-it-all geek.  The young man in question is rather portly, with shoulder length hair a bit on the greasy side, and a beard that he does not maintain well.  He has a long-suffering look on his face whenever anyone else in class speaks.  He has that voice.  You've all heard it if you've spent any time in or near the right circles - tenor, a little monotone, wheedling but smug, and very condescending.  The type of person that you want to scream at to shut up, but your conscience won't let you because you just know that part of his problem is poor self esteem.

He has a comment to make about every topic discussed in class, whether the comment adds to the conversation or not.  In fact, the comments are mostly just demonstrations of his knowledge on the subject.  Today, he decided to derail class discussion for ten minutes by comparing Parmenides' theory of reality to a quote by Douglas Adams (not so bad in itself, if irrelevant) and then defending it and explaining the context of the quote (this was where the desire to stab him in the face arose).

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm glad he likes the subject, I really am.  However, my Philosophy class does not need to be his forum to demonstrate his greatness.  I did not pay my tuition to listen to him blabber.  I'm willing to give him another week or so, and if he doesn't knock it off, I will pull him aside and tell him as much.  I found myself gripping my pen and wondering if the loss of one eye would be enough to silence him for more than thirty seconds so that we could get through the blasted lecture.

I have met, throughout my life, many young men who fit the above description well in demeanor if not physically.  That need to show how smart they are, to parade their knowledge before you as if merely knowing something should earn them great praise, and even better if it's something that no one else knows.  This sort of thing does not win you friends and lovers, my dears.  So stop doing it.

The Empress Takes Her Throne

Hello, my minions.  And so we begin another adventure.

I've attempted a number of blogs on varying subjects, and non of them have been terribly successful from a writing stand point.  I won't address a popularity stand point, because for many of them, that was never the aim. However, writing consistently works that I could be if not proud of at least mildly pleased with has never quite come into fruition.  Why do I think this project should fair any better?  I don't.  But I'm going to try.

So welcome, then, to the Subculture Empire.  Now, why would I choose such a title one might ask?  Naturally, there are many reasons.  I have spent a good deal of my life and social development on the fringes of a few different subcultures, taking what I want from each and leaving what aggravates me.  This behavior has led me to amassing friends and acquaintances that fill those various roles more fully than I ever did.  It's a habit I still continue to this day, hand picking what I like and gathering friends and associates that correspond to those things that caught my fancy.  Mine is a vast empire, full of diversity.

Beyond that, I'm not going to bother touting my qualifications for rambling on about whatever subject I choose to turn my head to at any given time.  Let's just stick with "because I can".

So here go.  Long may I reign.