The Geek's Meow

I’m a bit finicky about my words, at times. But there are some terms I will switch out interchangeably with ease – such as spouse and husband, though a slight tendency towards the former.

Isn’t “husband” more common? Isn’t it correct? Some people don’t even know what “spouse” is supposed to mean, or will assume it’s not a man because you don’t say “husband”!

Exactly.

I make it pretty well known that I am bi – I am attracted to same gender and other gendered people. True, many people would consider this “pan” and not “bi” but for me bi was a difficult title to find and have accepted, so I’m not ready to trade it out.

As a result, I don’t think anyone should assume the gender of any of my partners. I don’t mind someone asking, but I do mind assuming. Seeing that I am female and jumping to the conclusion that it means my partner must be male is a peeve of mine, as it is a symptom of heteronormativity (by default someone is straight until clearly expressed otherwise) and bi-erasure (you can be gay, or straight, but not really in the middle). By using the term “spouse” I encourage ambiguity, I lead people to ask instead of assuming. It’s a small way of normalizing non-straight relationships in the day-to-day world.

Plus, I just generally like a gender-neutral term better! Why does it matter what gender my partner is?

And then there’s the fact that my spouse is currently a student and home maker… because while most people would use “house-husband” I love the rhythm and rhyme of “house-spouse”!

So in the end, I will use both terms, and yes my spouse is male, but over all I tend towards, and prefer, spouse. Before we were married I used “S.O.” or “Significant Other” for the same kinds of reason (minus the rhyme) and still do from time to time – a piece of paper doesn’t make it less accurate, but generally I go to spouse to pick my battles when it comes to confusion.

So this weekend was a whirlwind – I took a Saturday off of Faire so I could attend an annual party… and somehow wound up busier and more social than I could have imagined! From a late night showing of Infinity War on Friday night to two parties taking up the day and night on Saturday, by Sunday I needed to do something chill to relax.

So when my friend Karl suggested hanging out and painting minis, I knew he was exactly right on with what I needed.

Just before my character Flynn was cured of his female form (which he’d had for nearly ten out of game years) I sprung for a HeroForge (www.heroforge.com) custom mini for the character. Oops.

This is the plain, primered FemFlynn – which is now a practice figure since I was never great at mini painting and haven’t really tried it in over a decade and a half. By choosing how I paint this one, I can make the decisions that will allow me to have an easier time when I go for the boy Flynn print out. It’s also just a great figure, so I was looking forward to painting it!

I found a mini online wearing similar armor that was painted in an amazing execution by ElectricEve (https://www.facebook.com/electricevepainting/) that I used to help me with color choices – I have a bad habit of making everything a different color (even when they are supposed to be the same clothing item) and turning every figure into a comical clash of color, so using influences like this helps me.

At my first picture break I had gotten the black and deep red in place, and had just started on the dark brown leather straps. The small inset plates of color were a desperate challenge for me, but I did it without significant smearing, which is pretty unusual for me. This is also when I realized I totally forgot about the colors for the dagger and had spend the last couple of hours cursing that owl, because it’s placement made access to the figure’s left a big challenge.

The theme for the next figure is, indeed, “More daggers, less owls.”

While the image doesn’t show it well, in order to get the hair to contrast with the black armor, it is actually a very deep purple, with plans to do a blue wash and add highlights later – at which point I realized my red-and-black clad purple haired character was a medieval Major Katsuragi from Neon Genesis Evangelion!

This gave me and Karl some good giggles as we worked.

My next targets after the dark brown leather straps were the fine lines of the silver accents – the mercenary company Flynn belongs to chose the colors black and silver for their uniform, because apparently the destructive nature of the Raider Nation was to be our role model. We have, after all, burned a few inns in our day.

My not-so-steady hand was a bane here, but I did get the silver touches in relatively smoothly for my skill level, and added some color to the dagger as well. Then it was time to tackle the owl before calling it a night. I was far too timid to try the face at this point, and I was sure I was going to regret my ambition with the owl…

But strangely I didn’t!  It’s not perfectly even and symmetrical, but it’s forgivable and the owl actually reads pretty clearly now, so I’m damn proud of that!  This is after a host of touch ups, but not quite the final form. The wood floor got a quick coat of brown that I forgot to take a picture of, and at that point my exhaustion caught up with me, so we called it a night.

I’ll never be great, but I’m already starting to see improvements in my minis, so this was a really fun way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon.

I have a rather annoying phobia. Not a reasonable, rational fear, but a truly textbook defined irrational fear phobia – Bees.

Well, also hornets, yellow jackets, wasps, etc. If it’s a flying stinging insect that generally tends towards yellow and black, I’m probably freaked out.

This has caused a number of issues over the years, as I unexpectedly burst into tears or freeze into a statue when I truly cannot deal, which does nothing to remove me from the stressful situation. It is a personal goal to overcome this, and over the years I have become far more steady, managing to keep thinking, moving, and so on.

This means at county fairs I visit the plexiglass observation hive, touching the clear plastic while trying to restrain myself from tears. When a bee lands on me I do everything I can to speak enough to explain to those around me that it has happened so they can help resolve it.

But this week has put me to the ultimate test.

First: Middle of a busy sales period, with multiple groups asking me questions, at my booth at the Ren Faire I saw a yellow and black streak heading straight at me. Before I could even squeak it collided with my neck and settled on me – but the questions kept coming! I could hear my voice getting rapid, I wanted these people to back off so I could deal, but there was just person after person that needed me. My hands were full of our picture book, so I couldn’t even free myself from that burden as people were looking at the book. I hadn’t been stung, but it was still there! I couldn’t stop talking, the crowd had no idea it was there and if I acknowledged it I was going to utterly melt down. My boss was nowhere to be found so I couldn’t leave the front gate of the booth if I did melt. Eventually it buzzes off, literally, after a few passes of flight in front of my face and me having to keep talking, endlessly filling the air with answers, and dancing around it slightly…. but still the questions didn’t stop! Nobody else saw it, and I kept my panic in check enough that none of them realized I was terrified. It was well gone by the time I got to breathe and collapse into my chair, which means the worst of the nerves had to wear off by sheer length of time.

Followed by: Lunch with the head of my region at work. The group has finished eating, and we’re having a great conversation about the state of our departments. Since we’re eating outdoors there have been a few flies and the like, totally normal.  Then suddenly the “flies” are bigger, fuzzier, buzzier… and someone looks behind me to say “That’s a LOT of bees!” A full swarm was descending on us in the most unexpected way! Empty lunch plates and half-drunk sodas were swept away as we ducked inside to plan our true escape. But my regional boss discovered his hoodie was still back at his chair. I made a point of not looking at the swarm while he bravely recovered it, and we scooted around the edges back to the clear walkway to our building. No tears on my part, though a lot of babbling about it.

In both cases I used talking, expressing, instead of tears and freezing up. That kind of progress is possibly the best that I can ever hope for, but it is, indeed, progress and helps others help me. Maybe someday I will be rational around bees, though that may be a long way off.

Growing up my friends loved to express how cute I would look with short hair, and how unfair it was that I was not allowed to cut my hair. Granted, they were not wrong, it was vexing to not have authority over my own locks, but after a time I had gotten used to it and the length was part of my visual signature, I was ‘The Girl With The Hair’.

When I reached adulthood, and thus was allowed to cut my hair, I didn’t. It was me, by that point, and I had embraced that. But I did start dying it red, an act that I believe my dad was rather irked over. It’s funny, because part of the inspiration for that was the fact that I was supposed to be born a redhead if I were to be named ‘Colleen’, and thus I always felt I was missing out on that aspect of myself until I discovered the dye bottle. I believe his exact words when he saw it were “What did you do?” Heh, oops.

When I went truly copper-red, generally I got compliments. Many people believed it was or was only a slightly enhanced variant of my natural color, with no idea I was blonde. I still had some people weigh in about the length, positive and negative, without being asked, but the color was usually praised – with one exception where a man tried to explain that when a woman dyed her hair red it was because she was preparing to leave her significant other and assumed I must be on the prowl for a new partner. Some people refuse to believe my hair is for me.

The red lasted a long time, but eventually it was time for a change, and a cut finally! But even before I made the change, I found my hair was apparently not my own. Even my boss kept trying to talk me out of cutting it, assuring me I would regret doing so as his wife did. Once the red was gone, many would wax nostalgic about it and ask when I was going back. “Are you going to grow it out again?” was another common refrain. There were, of course, compliments, but there was also so much critique that I had not expected.

Even to this day one of my braiders at Faire lamented the loss of the red recently. On an elevator trip upstairs a coworker (who never knew me with the red) couldn’t decide if the all-black I’m sporting for Faire or the oil slick was her preferred hair color on me. She meant it as a compliment, that I looked good with either, but it came out strange that I should be worried which she prefers?

On the other hand, the fact that my spouse lamented the loss of the blue made me feel great, and continued to make me anxious for the day I can bring it back after Faire. Also an unsolicited opinion, but one that strangely mattered. It seems no matter what I do to my hair, MY hair, everyone from my closest to random strangers will weigh in!

Sane, and diabetic – or not but also not.

I have Bipolar (Type II) disorder, and while I am low enough on the spectrum that as long as I am aware and careful I can be a mostly functional human without meds, I still have bad episodes that are much more in check when I am on the correct medication.

“Correct Medication” being the key, and the hard part. When I was first diagnosed, back when it was hard to be a functional human because I had no idea what ‘normal’ felt like, we played “Wheel of Medicine, turn turn turn, tell us the side effect we should learn!” Depakote was the first and worst, turning me into a lazy zombie who only had awake and crying or asleep as my two modes. Over time we tried a variety of things, with varying success, and eventually found Wellbutrin, for all it’s problems, was the most reasonable. On the downside I lost medical coverage, but Wellbutrin had an advantage of being able to help pull a depressive episode short with only one or two pills, so I carefully rationed my supply and watched myself closely for quite a while.

When I went back into psychiatric care we decided to try the wheel again, and gave it a good spin. After some misses, and some major scaling back on the dose, we landed on Abilify. Normally an anti-psychotic it can be used, at a micro dose level, for bipolar. I’m taking the smallest micro dose possible (I even have to split my own pills) and it works very well. I still occasionally stray from center norms, but not so far that I can’t control it with talk and behavior adjustments. It allows me to be aware of my condition, which I can fail at when unmedicated. Trial and error even found a sleep med that, while not quite allowing me to sleep like a normal person which will likely never happen for me, seems to work to give me closer to average rest that I need when my brain won’t otherwise let me.

So let’s sail along for a while on that, just until I’m good and comfortable with how sane I am, in comparison to my unmedicated self, at least. Make sure I feel reliable enough, then let’s pull the rug out from under me!

What rug? The one with my blood sugar, apparently – which is more of a flying carpet given how high it is. Congratulations, I went from pre-diabetic to diabetic and had the doctors all very worried given how crazy high my A1C (measure of average blood sugar over the last three months) was. Granted, the doctor I had when I got this diagnosis is pretty terrible in his own right, something that deserves an entry of it’s own, but his declaration is that we should try to manage it, in one month, on diet alone – with no actual guidance on diet other than “plants are good.”

Needless to say, I did not succeed in erasing three months of blood sugar record in one month with no help and a doctor actively discouraging me from using my blood meter after meals, but I made a dramatic change. And in another month, sure enough I was under the diabetic level! But it was taking a very strict measure of diet, and was discovered right as I switched doctors away from the problematic one.

Why problematic? Because certain key things weren’t mentioned when I was given the diagnosis, including the fact that Abilify will raise your blood sugar. I found this out during my next appointment with my shrink, who assumed my doctor had told me and passed it off casually as an “Of course you know…” kind of comment.

I DID NOT KNOW!

In fact, one morning after I forgot to take my night time dose of Abilify, I discovered my blood sugar lower than it had ever been to date (not actually low, but lower than I had seen). Just from missing one dose. It is likely that the reason I am diabetic now, and not later in life, is my psych meds. The ones I love, because they work with minimal side effects and minimal interference in my life. The ones that let me be so stable I only have to see my shrink (now) once a year, just to check in.

But without them, I am probably not diabetic. I am not on this strict diet. I am free from blood tests all the time.

So every now and then I have to ask myself again about the trade offs.  Sane and diabetic? Or not, but also not?

Is there anything more intimidating in life than a blank document, with the cursor blinking at your accusingly? Maybe it’s because I am a writer, by trade and choice these days, but that empty page with it’s menacing reminder of what isn’t there feels haunting.

Each paragraph it returns, the blank openness that needs filling, marked by that winking eye telling you where you need to start. “Write something,” it says, “anything, just do it.” Yet it’s never that easy. On a page, you have no mockery, just open territory to fill at your leisure, but electronically you have that flickering reminder that nothing has happened yet.

Oh cursor, oppressive figure and instigator that you are.

Eighteen years ago I was getting ready to graduate high school. Very little mattered more than Grad Night and yearbooks at that point, for it was the end of an era.

‘KIT’

‘Have a GREAT summer!’

‘Best of luck in college’

The mountain of insipid messages we were leaving for each other as a thin veil for the real uncertainty we were feeling was overwhelming. How do you close a four year chapter of the greatest changes any of you have ever experienced? Sure, we did so many group projects together we practically peed in groups of four, but would we be the same person in another few months? Would they? Cell phones weren’t a thing, so giving out your parent’s phone number seemed weird for the ‘Keep In Touch’ message, and as we were the earliest millennials we resorted to the bizarre personal email addresses (almost every one at Hotmail) we’d developed over the years.

On the other end of the spectrum was our last chance to confess anything – one good friend signed my yearbook with a reminiscence about our mutual crushes during freshman year – only this was the first I was learning about his past crush – with a note not to tell my current boyfriend. AWKWARD! Baring ones soul in the margins near your picture seemed like a reasonable course of action, right?

In those tomes would be the final words you would record for the people who shaped your dearest moments, the epitaph of your childhood and your first steps into the adult world. I had a small graduating class, which somehow made each of those just over one hundred entries weigh that much more for your classmates, not counting teachers and underclassman you’d connected with. It was a sign of deep trust to utter the words “Will you sign my yearbook?”

Looking back I see how young we still were, how much left there was to go and grow, but in that moment it was a deep divide we were crossing.

This is where I brag about things that nobody but me cares about!

On my personal cards I had made for cons I came up with a title for myself – “Geek, Gamer, and Wordsmith at Large” – the final being the thing that I think really sets me apart. I will never be a fiction writer, especially because dialogue in different voices escapes me. But the occasional pun, clever turn of phrase, catchy title, that is the wordplay I adore more than anything.

One example: When three friends were moving into a house together and it was declared that all three of them were Libras, especially given that the home owner was known as “LicensedToHench” I asked off the cuff if the place was to be called the “Libra Lair”? To this day that’s still the moniker the house is known by, even though one of the three was actually not a Libra and all but the home owner have moved out.

Recently I was writing a character background for a noble character that is something of a documentarian or historian for her kingdom, a writer that uses the sharp side of her quill to lance other nobles and went too far, as a result being assigned to the game’s mercenary company as punishment. I may never play this character, this is a back up in case any of my others retire or expire, but I became quite enamored of my own wit;

“Who are the ‘Iron Dragon’ anyway?”

Her youngest brother, Godwin, leaned around a doorway, “Don’t you read anymore? Viadro’s trashy stories are about them! You’re assigned to the Iron Dragon? Why?”

“I may have written off more than I can chew.”

“Always knew you would one day, sis. Good work. Is the pen really mightier than the sword?” His grin was a mile wide.

“Not today,” Wren sighed.

****

And now, as the person trying to write a backstory clever enough to support that phrase, I have written off more than I can chew, as well!

I’m not an excellent writer when it comes to a body of work, but the quick catch phrase is my territory, a place where I can gleefully play. I’m not sure this is a marketable skill, especially as it can be difficult to do on command, but it is something that will always bring me great joy.

I even got to use it at work recently, as we had a food-themed April Fool’s event. There are a million ways to sneak food puns and references into every day conversations with our players and agents, and I used a lot of them in giving them guidance – though I did accidentally inspire them with my “no-go zone” example of talking about a suspended account as “ban-ana’d due to spicy language”. Turns out that was the one they all wanted to use, as inappropriate as it would be. Oops!

Thank you for allowing my ego this short trip into the spotlight!

When you’re a kid, you love Disney movies differently than you will as an adult. Truth be told, you’ll love a lot of things differently, from your family to your hobbies and everything in between.

The Little Mermaid was the last fully child-like love I had for a Disney movie, it was all about sleeping bags printed with the movie cover and wanting to be Ariel. Even then there was an awkward moment where I was given Little Mermaid bow-biters for my shoes and somehow they hit an off-note with me, they were a little too childish for where I was headed. It was an omen of the end.

In the middle of this transition came Beauty and the Beast, where as a bookworm awkward child I could identify with Belle’s love of the library, but I still appreciated the movie for the characters, not as a movie yet. Looking back I think this one got the short end of my attention, it didn’t get the amount of attention it would deserve as the first really smart Disney heroine, all because it was in the mid-point of this paradigm shift. Hindsight is 20/20, and these days I really care about Stockholm Syndrome The Movie.

Then came The Lion King. Articles about it in the little Disney magazine I used to receive got me excited, but somehow it felt different. The ground had changed, I was reading about the voice actors, the animation special effects team, Elton John, I was seeking out more information about the movie as a movie! The story, sure, Scar was a fantastic villain who you could sympathize with in some ways – but did you know he was voiced by Jeremy Irons? I didn’t even know who Jeremy Irons really was, but somehow that was exciting.

It came out right after my birthday, and in 1994 I decided that my big birthday present was a CD player. So my parents built a shelf above the head of my bed for the giant black box that was my sound system – these things didn’t come small back in those days. And of course, I needed a couple of CDs to go with it, so the first one I pulled off the shelf, with my eyes gleaming, was The Lion King soundtrack. I think the other was a used Garth Brooks CD, but my prize was indeed the soundtrack that would get listened to again and again. Even as my CD collection built, this one always lived at the top of the case for easy access. Sure, I sang along with Disney movies, but this was the first time I selected a particular movie that I owned the soundtrack for, the first time I knew who was singing in a real world sense, the first time it mattered to me.

The movie coming out didn’t do anything to tame the fire, I was still reading everything I could get about Lion King. So time ticked on and eventually the Disney Store at the mall erupted in banners for the VHS release! So using my own closely horded money I stood in an impressive line, made the difficult choice between a watch or a Disney Store gift certificate (I chose the latter, and then never spent it because it looked so cool), and placed my pre-order for the movie. My family was not generally the pre-order type, so this was a big deal for me to commit to something that wouldn’t be in my hands right away.

To this day I look back and realize that Lion King was my first “adult” appreciation of a movie, appreciation of a movie as an event and not just story-time for a child.

Friday at WonderCon was for my laziest costume of all, wearing gear from the Bioware Store – N7 dress, jacket, socks, and Omniblade. A few questions and comments about the Omniblade, an occasional nod and “Shepard” when I passed someone similarly or better N7-bedecked. Kicked off a good conversation while in line to get in, and super comfy. Occasional passers by would note “Mass Effect!” but no requests for pictures, all I have are selfies. No worries, kind of what I expected.

Saturday, however, was Mara Jade – took a little longer to get ready in the morning than I expected. Luckily for me I’d woken up early because I had to make an emergency run home, as I realized the dress for Sunday was still in my closet. Wig went on smoothly, weather was just right for bare arms and limited breath-ability in the fabric. Since the last time I wore it I found my thighs have gotten less thick, so I had to cinch down my pack thigh strap – annoying but also strangely satisfying. I started out the day wearing the Luke-blue-saber hooked to my belt… however the temptation of an Ultrasaber was entirely too strong!

The wig ensured that nobody I knew was going to recognize me until I spoke. The details made me feel good, though, and every time someone recognized the character I got a little thrill out of it. Once I’d added the purple saber it was even easier – to the point where I joined the official Star Wars picture at the fountain I had a member of the 501st mistake me for an actual approved costume/member! Given their strict standards, that’s flattering, however with a bit of research afterwards I found that my costume is too far off and I would have to start close to scratch to actually qualify.

Finding another Mara was one of the highlights of my day, so mad props to https://www.instagram.com/itsriag/ for setting this picture up!

The picture requests were always connected to comments like “I rarely see a Mara Jade!” Being unique made it hard for most people to recognize the non-canon character, but worth it when people did catch it, it added value to the costume for me. Definitely a step up from the no-pictures lazy-Shepard of Friday. Those boots rubbed my left heel raw, my arm was quite tired from holding up the lightsaber all day (after holding up the Omniblade the day before) and despite the aches it was all worth it.

And then Sunday, had to pack up the hotel room at the same time I got ready for a day of cosplay, so not surprised it took me longer than originally planned to get everything together, into the car, checked out, and out to the con areas. But even when shuttling my gear to the car I had someone shout into the elevator “I love your Bombshells Catwoman!” so the day started out great and just got better!

After my last hotel-room selfie I stepped out into something that made me feel amazing… recognition! A few of the photographers that set up outside the halls stopped me on my way in to get pictures, some of these people are pros so it made me feel over-the-moon good, and I was able to put my cards to good use so I can get some of the pictures later. Once in the hall I visited Pinup Girl Clothing, since their dress was the base for the costume, and got to have a good chat. The ladies over at Cryptozoic, who make the cute Bombshells statues, were so excited and it was great to talk with them about the costume, too! Everywhere I went all day it was comments on my accessories or props, shout outs to DC Bombshells, or honest questions about my costume since not everyone is familiar with Bombshells.

All day, casual pictures, pro level set ups, photography students, comments, compliments, every accessory or prop got a call out (except my shoes) – it was so thrilling. Luckily I only had one panel I wanted to make, and due to my Ultrasaber splurge the day before I wasn’t going to be doing anymore shopping, so I had time all day to poke around, visit with people, and enjoy the attention!

I even found a Bombshells Mera!

I do regret the amount of time and attention I spent on my eye makeup – once those sunglasses were on there was no chance anyone could see my eyes – even my contacts were silly. But every detail made me feel better, and during the Critical Role Talks Machina panel I did switch out to the clear glasses because otherwise it was a little too dark.

So starting from an occasional nod or quick chat to a full blown day of photography and recognition, to the point where I just about ran out of the small collection of cards I had brought, I ran the full cosplay gamut this weekend! Next year is going to be great!