So, I've been anticipating this for a little while. Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog is a project by Joss Whedon, starring Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion, and Felicia Day. It will only be online for a brief time, then they're taking it down (although they'll be releasing it on DVD later, according to the master plan). The basic premise is that NPH is an aspiring supervillain, NF is his superhero archnemesis, and FD is the activist that they're both in "love" with.

There's singing. There's a freeze ray. There's NPH, NF, and FD all hamming it up. It's pretty much all around awesome.

First two installments are here: http://drhorrible.com/. Final one goes up on Saturday. On Sunday, it vanishes into the night.

I tend to avoid the classics, so I'm not surprised that I didn't do all that well outside of genre books and childrens books. On the other hand, I'm well above 6.

According to The Big Read, the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books on their list.

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own LJ so we can try and track down these people who've only read 6 and force books upon them ;-)

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Wow. A livejournal. I'd forgotten I had one of these things. Wonder if it still works.

*rattle, rattle. Tink, tink, tink*

Hmm. Seems to be in working order. Amazing how technology holds up these days.

So, ruminations on Wiscon. I went. It was good. I came back.

Therein lies the problem.

I don't know what I was expecting before I went, but I had a lot of powerful realizations while I was there. I lied. It wasn't good. It was great. Cathartic. Revelatory (and revealatory). Somewhat expiating.

And I really didn't want to come home.

It has to do with the way the space at Wiscon was constructed. Some spaces have a strongly masculine construction (i.e., certain kinds of sports events), some a strongly feminine one (i.e., certain kinds of beauty/fashion events). Most spaces I frequent are genderless, but almost every space (even the "feminine") is dominated by a "masculine" gaze.

This is where terminology is inadequate and misleading. Most people who know me know that I am not particularly invested in the categories of masculinity or femininity, at least not as essential things. I freely admit, however, that there are socially constructed categories of masculinity and femininity that we all participate in, and that inform how we make and interpret meaning.

A "masculine" gaze is something that all of us are subject to most of the time, and something we all participate in perpetuating against others and ourselves. It is a gaze that judges people according to arbitrary standards, be it of beauty, success, intelligence, etc., and places them in a hierarchy of some people being prettier/better/more valuable than others based on those judgments and standards. The object of a masculine gaze will never be as good as the one who arbitrates the standards, because the arbiter gets to set the standards according to their biases. Since there is no *single* arbiter, but rather a de-centered social apparatus that works in concert to create ever-more-impossible standards, we are *all* -- male and female, white and black, old and young -- rendered less powerful by this gaze, even as we perpetuate it on ourselves and others.

Calling it a "masculine" gaze, therefore, is misleading, because both males and females are implicated in the construction and enforcement of those standards. Moreover, calling it that tends to alienate a large portion of the population that self-identifies as masculine and therefore feels that defending masculinity and the "masculine" gaze is self-defense.

It is not. It is self-defeating.

The reasons for calling it a "masculine" gaze are socio-historical, because in most societies (both currently and in the past), the people who have the most power to determine these standards of judgment are or have been gendered male. That is not to claim that all males have had this power, or that all males would consciously choose to deploy it. As indicated above, males, even males in positions of power, are just as subject to being judged by these arbitrary standards as anyone else (although, the people in power tend to come out ahead, since they participated in setting the standards in the first place). I also want to emphasize that females are just as implicated in this process, especially through deploying the judging gaze and enforcing the arbitrary standards. As most anthropologists will attest, females more often tend to be the bearers and distributors of culture, and women's roles are more often involved in policing norms and standards than male roles.

I wish I could find better terminology that communicates all these nuances. I'm left with "masculine" gaze because that is the term that has been developed through decades of discourse on this topic amongst activists and people in gender studies. People familiar with the discourse know what I'm talking about when I refer to a "masculine" gaze, to the point where I'm probably preaching to the choir. People unfamiliar with the discourse are often alienated, even if they would agree with the concept if they could get past the term and into the meat of the issue. Hence the long description, which really only touches the surface of these issues.

So, what does all of this have to do with Wiscon?

For the first time in my conscious experience, I found myself in an un-gendered space that was mediated by what I could only call (for lack of a better term) a "feminine" gaze.

I did not feel like I was being judged against arbitrary standards that I could never measure up to. I was comfortable in my body (and gods, hasn't it been ages since I experienced that!) and confident about the unique and interesting perspectives I had to offer. I felt free to be myself without judgments laid upon me, even if that self was very different from the various normative tendencies that are inevitable in any large gathering of people (yes, we are all snowflakes, but the more people you have, the more patterns tend to emerge). I felt this, and even more impressively, I felt the way that everyone around me was feeling it too. It meant that I could begin the process of changing the perspective of the worst perpetrator of the "masculine" gaze in my life: myself.

It was hard to give as good as I got, and I didn't succeed above half the time. Even though I try not to participate in the imposition of the "masculine" gaze in my day-to-day life (both towards myself and others), I fail a lot more often than I succeed, to the point where I'm not even aware of the ways I'm still heavily implicated in the process. It was only on the last day of the conference, as I was preparing to leave, that I even became consciously aware of this phenomenon.

I thought about it all the way home. And what I realized was, I didn't want to come back. When I expressed these feelings to my partner, I nearly cried. I didn't because I was in a McDonalds. It would have been inappropriate. Insert eyebrow lift and sardonically tilted smile here.

I'm tired -- bone tired, heart tired, soul tired -- of living a life subject to the "masculine" gaze. I hate it, and most people I know feel similarly. I crave experiences like the one I had this weekend, and yet I don't know how to even begin to push against the overwhelming tide of social forces that are looking at me, judging me, arbiting me, and always pressuring me to turn a "masculine" gaze upon myself. It's so overwhelming, I can't even begin to imagine what a first step would look like.

Although, it seems to me that developing better, more inclusive and less judgmental terminology for both gazes could be a good start. Any suggestions?

Cheers.

Once again, XKCD gets it right:

http://xkcd.com/385/

I'm going back to bed. Wake me up when I can be judged on my merits as an individual human being, and not as a representative for an entire catagory of people that I only nominally self-identify with.

Whoa. I knew the show was strange, but this is even weirder than I remembered:



And what the heck is the upside-down dildo in the Batmobile?

This is a great bit of inspirational propaganda. Some of the commenters criticize it for lacking any substance, but I think that there's a difference between policy and the more ephemeral mood that is brought to a regime. The rhetoric of the recent administration was one of fear, divisiveness, and unquestioning acceptance. This rhetoric is inclusive, inspirational, and filled with love and hope. A four minute music video (or party speech for that matter) is not a good venue for establishing or explaining policy. It is an excellent venue for establishing the ideological trajectory of an administration. I think it would be a great relief to have a regime dedicated to positivity (Yes), inclusiveness (We), and activism (Can).

I prefer Hope to Fear.

I watched this for the very pretty arctic fox, but I stayed to watch the ball clip, cause it's fascinating to watch.

http://www.weather.com/multimedia/videoplayer.html?clip=9543&collection=topstory&nav=topstory&from=36hr_outlet_video

So, I was browsing youtube and I found this video, which is a matrix ping-pong style vid:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAK0qovqq9E&NR=1

I thought this would be the best thing I watched all day, but then I opened my email and a friend sent me a link to the torchwood teaser, which he claimed would be the sexiest thing I saw all week.

Edit: uh... warning: only work safe-ish, so use caution.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-v0szrB5nB8

Guh. Forget all week, this is likely to be the sexiest thing I see all year (at least until the episode airs). It's like Russel Davies broke into my mind in the middle of the night, ransacked it, and then put the contents up on youtube. I just... wow. This is made of win. And all the fangirls go *squeee! squeee!*

I need that backlit kiss shot as an icon.

And in other news:

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Lady Madame Alyc the Mad of Menzies on the Minges Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

I like this for the alliteration. We're all Mad in Menzies on the Minges.

I think this is just about the best compliment a fanfic writer can receive:

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I think when people start writing fics based on your fic, you can claim to have "arrived" as a fanfic author.

Why am I only hearing about this now? I swear, you leave LJ for a few months and suddenly it's like a whole new world.

http://www.transformativeworks.org/

Naomi Novik is my new hero. Napoleonic-era English Navy, Chinese Dragons, fanfic, and kimonos at major awards shows. How cool is she?

So, for those of you who haven't heard about the NIE yet, a consensus agreement was just released by all 16 U.S. intelligence agencies that says they have "high confidence" that Iran shut down its nuclear weapon development programs in the Fall of 2003, and does not currently have intentions towards reopening them. Despite having been advised of this since July, the Bush administration continues to maintain that Iran is an imminent nuclear threat.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/12/03/AR2007120300846_pf.html, also, www.democracynow.org

It's like the Duelfer Report all over again. Isn't there some well-known saying about those not learning from history being doomed to repeat it? My country's government embarrasses me.

Alyc
raring up for another four years of depression.

Yoinked from threerings, Joss, the writer's strike, and the #2 pencil protest: http://whedonesque.com/comments/14772. Like the original poster, I'm just in it for the Joss Newsie filk.

See it in 3D at an IMAX theater. Really.

Last night I had a very weird, but strangely sexy dream. I was on the run from my husband, who was the leader of this massive warband. I was hiding out in an old, abandoned-looking castle which was ruled over by a not-very-trustworthy Bandit King. The Bandit King was shifty, and not sexy at all. He decided to sell me out to my husband, but it was a trick and what he really was doing was luring my husband into a trap to kill him. So, my husband shows up -- alone, cause he's testosteroni that way -- and the Bandit King leaves us in a room together while he rallies up his guys to kill me and my husband. Turns out that what we really needed was exactly this kind of locked-in-a-room-together form of marriage counseling, cause within minutes we're fighting, and minutes after that we're making with the hot and heavy, but then I see that my husband is actually undead (I could sense it with my hands as they skimmed over his flesh... it was very weird, and terribly kinky). He knows it's a trap and that the Bandit King is going to kill us both, but he came anyways cause he loves me (aw, squish!). The only way we can survive is if I become undead too. The bandit king bursts in with his men and we make a break for it. We run through all these creepy rooms with ghasts and zombies and stuff while I dither about what to do, but eventually I agree to become undead, and then we get away and I'm this hot-ass undead Queen of this undead warrior legion, with this undead hottie at my side.

Which really all just indicates that I spent too much time playing WoW in the Ghostlands last night.

Goes off to make myself a Forsaken...

I wanted the Magic Time Lord's Hideout, but this one comes with two different rooms for dancing, so I'm good!

Your home is a Gamer's Mansion Your kitchen consists of dilithium-powered food replicators, manned by obedient robot slaves, who are sure to never, ever rebel. I mean, it's preposterous to even consider it. There's a Chocolatessen, which is rapidly becoming your favorite room of the house. Having one is also becoming a trend among your wealthy neighbors. Your master bedroom is the size of a small barn, with carpet thick enough to reach your ankles. Your study has every science fiction title ever written. One of your garages contains a life-sized X-Wing fighter, and KITT. (KITT was a gift from a well-meaning uncle.) Your home also includes a robot repair bay, where your mechanized servants are routinely fitted with new restraining bolts. (It's just a precaution.) Your guests enjoy your animatronic replica of the cantina at Mos Eisley. Outside is your radio telescope, listening constantly for alien transmissions. Especially invaders. They'll come eventually, even if nobody believes you. (Nobody does.) And, you have a pet -- a taun-taun named "Padme". Below is a snippet of the blueprints:

Find YOUR Dream Home!

Don't just read the headline... it keeps getting more amusing as the article goes by.

Yoinked from jaylake

http://www.ketv.com/news/14133442/detail.html

I think I saw this in a movie once. Miracle on something something? We need to start a letter writing campaign, stat!

Although, given that this case is going on in Nebraska, that guy's going to be really sad when Cthulhu shows up and eats the jury... and the courthouse.

There's a discussion happening at Smart Bitches right now about the writer-as-god, with the corrollary that it is tantamount to sacrilege to question or critique the way a writer decides to take a story, or the arc of particular characters. This is in response to writers like Anne Rice, Laurell K. Hamilton, Robin Hobb, and other authors (most recently, Charlaine Harris, apparently) who have taken flack for a variety of reasons over their authorial choices. Rather than go into the whole thing, you can read it here if you're really interested:

http://www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com/index.php/weblog/a_book_is_not_a_child/

Since I have an interest in folklore, fairy tale retellings, and fanfic, I find these kinds of conversations very interesting and sometimes a little frustrating. In this case, I responded most strongly to the following quote, pulled out of Harris' blog entry:

"The writer is determiner of fate for his or her characters. Writing is a lone pastime, not a group endeavor. It doesn’t take a village to write a book. It takes one person, shut up in a room for hours on end."

I vehemently disagree with this (as do the Smart Bitches, although we disagree for different reasons). A writer is constantly drawing from the public domain of collective stories, imagery, assumptions and archetypes. The writer's contribution to this is to spin all these ingredients in new, interesting and engaging ways. There are more great writerly quotes about writing taking the familiar and making it unfamiliar (or vice-versa) than I could list here. The imaginary of writing as some noble, solitary endeavor divorced from the world or lived interactions is a very popular one that some writers like to trot out, but I think that "bullshit" can be called through the pairing of these two quotes. They come in sequence on my favorite quote site, and the gender-theorist in me loves the irony of it:


What no wife of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working when he's staring out of the window. ~Burton Rascoe


The best time for planning a book is while you're doing the dishes. ~Agatha Christie


Who the fuck is Burton Rascoe? (answer: a little known turn-of-the-century literary critic and journalist who is best known for writing about other writers). I'd much rather be like Agatha Christie. Writing is no more a solitary process than living is. If I had to acknowledge everyone who contributed to even my smallest piece of writing, I'd go mad.

But that is only one end of the process. There is also the entire aspect of reception and reading of a text. As much as the process of writing is a conversation between the author and the world she inhabits, the process of reading is a conversation between the reader and the text the author has produced. The idea of claiming that I (or any writer) should have some control over that conversation, that process of interpretation, seems to be laden with hubris.

I feel some proprietary interest in the particular ways I construct a story. I don't think it is right that other people should economically profit from the products of my labor, but I think it is hypocritical to try to shut down all dissent, alternate readings, or reinterpretations (whether that be in the form of literary critique, audience disappointment, or fan reimaginings). This comes from the way I understand the text. I see it as a conversation between the people who inspired the story, and the people who read the story, with myself not as a God/Creator, but as a mediator, a translator, a worldwalker.

Yoinked from the_sandwalker:

http://www.cybuscorporation.com/

Marka-registrada, baby!

In other news... alcohol is bad, and last night the zombies won.

Rhymes with Bannister...

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...which is what you bitches will be thrown over if you mess with me on my path to world dominance.

uh... or something?

The thing that amuses me most about this is the part where it says people are afraid of me, and with good reason. I've actually run into this on occasion, but I really don't understand it. I'm not a scary person. I'm wee. I'm polite. If I don't like a person, chances are I'll just avoid being in social situations with them so that I don't have to put up with them or be bored by them. This means that I'm not really all that vindictive. I'm so soft-hearted that I save spiders. Why do they all fear me so?