Report Cards

There's this great little story today about a man who saved a small group of report cards from the Manhattan Trade School for Girls and the stories he discovered there. This is such a great moment of an amateur historian working with a primary source. I love that he contacted the families and gave them information they might not otherwise have.
That said, I'm not sure if I want my future family members seeing my report cards. Mostly they are decent, but if there are the kinds of notes that these have, then really, even I don't want to know.

Notes of the Death Penalty

So I spent the morning reading up on the death penalty. I read this story about a young man who may have confessed to a crime he might not have committed. I couldn't believe some of the details of this story: a man killed his possibly cheating wife, stuffed her in a car and then drove around to show people. I can't believe people say there is gender equality when things like this happen.
And then I read up on what John Paul Stevens, the former Supreme Court justice, thinks about the death penalty in reference to a particular book on the subject. There were lots of good facts in here too. Michigan (!) apparently made the revolutionary decision to outlaw the death penalty for everything except treason in 1846. And then after that, they decided that the state had to wait fifteen years before killing someone. And that 130 people have been set free (mostly from DNA evidence) since 1973.

Busked

Read this article on busks, which were one of the many devices used, mostly by women, to make their clothing stiff. 
I realize this is a totally historically accurate thing, but when I read stuff like this it makes me want to throw up.  I complain all the time about my jeans being tight; when I see women wore things like this I think "there's no way I could handle that." 
There's mention in this article that one busk has a love message on it.  It might make an interesting detail of a romance story.

Dinner with Gary

I sort of left you there with my last story.  Again, every time I try to sit down and write, I get interrupted by life. 
Dinner with Gary was nice.  We went to this sushi place.  I've only been there a few times, but it was the first place that I was introduced to sushi about four years ago (with Stephanie and Lia.)  Last summer, when Nate and Dean and I went there. 
I had my usual and Gary had something adventurous.  We mostly ate and talked like old times. 
Gary's been doing well.  He has been having lots of career related successes lately, and I'm really proud.  He was invited to a political rally to speak and he's always getting invitations for fancy dinners and conventions.  I'm so proud of him.  I always knew he was smart and passionate, but I didn't guess he would be this ambitious.  Good for him. 
He also told me about one of his favorite hobbies, genealogy.  He's talked about researching his own family before, and it has lead him to learn lots of interesting facts about his family and even to finding lost family.  More recently, he's been working on a website version of a basic genealogy guide, written for people who are just getting started. 
"I've always wanted to do something like that," I said.  "But I don't really have the time and I wouldn't know what I was doing.  It sounds like a good project for you." 
He told me that he did research for other families, and I told him my family would probably do that.  "What do you charge?" I asked. 
"Oh, no, I wouldn't charge," he said.  "I would do it for free." 
So maybe one day I'll ask Gary formally.  One side of my family has been thoroughly researched, but the other side is fairly dark.  And I'm sort of curious as to what Gary would find. 
Gary was even sweet enough to pay for part of my dinner. 
The only bad thing, at the end of the evening, was that my computer fell off a chair.  I was worried it was going to be damaged, but so far there's been no problem. 

Harry and Hermione

I must be having a Harry Potter week, because I ended up reading this little post on the relationship between Harry and Hermione. 
I should come out to you all now, officially, as a Harry/Hermione shipper.  And unlike most fans, it's actually because I hate Ron.  I think he's a jerk.  He's nasty to Hermione, he is selfish, and he's a coward.  I was really hoping he would die in the last book, though if he went out with a blaze of glory, I guess I would have been okay with that.  (I wish a lot more characters would have died in the books, just because it was meant to be a war, and it was meant to be sad and hurt, and basically no one of any consequence died.  I think half the Weasley family and most of the students should have died.  I really wanted Neville to go down in the most epic way possible, saving the school in a way Harry never did, because in a lot of ways he was more of a hero.) 

I also dislike Ginny because she had no character development.  She was one character, and then suddenly she was someone else.  Hermione did the same thing, but the other way around, become weaker and more hysterical in the later books.  This really irks me, because I feel like it's poor writing and misogynist.  Women get depicted enough in the world as weak/emotional/a pain in the ass.  We need more stories about strong women. 

Real Person Fanfiction

I told this story to Dan, Jimmy and Kristina, and I thought I'd share it with some of my other readers, since it's based on my experiences with real people.
"So, Alex is going to be a director and make movies.  Every time there's a premier, Nick is going to be all 'God!  Do we have to go to this movie!?!  Alex is a terrible director, and he's an even worse writer.'"
'He's not that bad.'
'Oh, please, you have no taste.'
But Nick will always still go, along with everyone else who likes Alex.  And every movie, there's going to be a character that is clearly based on Justin.  The person who will hate these characters the most?  Justin. 
'That Trustin character was hella annoying.  And fugly.  If I knew someone like that, I would just slap them in the face.'
I would turn to look at Dan and we would exchange a look.  'Justin,' I would say, as gently as possible.  'Trustin was based on you.'
'No he wasn't!  You're just being mean!'
'No, really, I think that-'
'You're wrong!  You're just trying to make me feel bad!' And then Justin would march out, slamming the door behind him.  And then-"
And then I stopped telling this story, realizing I was basically writing real person fanfiction.  Dan once told me that I read too much fanfiction and that it was affecting how I looked at people, and I must admit, it is changing how I view things.  But whereas Dan was viewing it as a bad thing, I'm thinking it's actually both a good and bad thing.  It's bad because, well, there's something really random and potentially creepy about these thoughts.  But it's also good because it allows me to take another angle at the people in my life.  It gives me a way of analyzing them but in a more creative way.  If that makes any sense.  Possibly this is one of those things that makes sense only to me, like my surreal poetry.  
And I think we should all be grateful that story was G rated.  I think we all know I'm capable of writing stories that are totally not. 

Spending the Day Doing What I Didn't

Erin, Nori and I were outside, dancing and fooling around.  Erin and Nori were taking pictures of the night.  I had my camera with me, but I didn't feel like getting it out. 
I was too busy dancing.  I dropped my shoulders low, looking down at the ground.  I put my arms out, slightly above my head, making it look like I was pushing walls away that were closing in on me.  Then I moved my legs so that one foot was in front of the other.  When one leg would move, I'd wobble just a little bit.  I did this for a while. 
I turned around.  Both Nori and Erin were staring at me.  "What was that?" Nori asked. 
I really couldn't tell her. 
They both kept taking pictures, including some of me.  "You always make your pictures look nice," Erin scoffed.  So sue me. 

"Post them immediately!" Erin commanded.  Nori told her that she had to go down to Ann Arbor the next day to see Frontier Ruckus, this band I saw a few years back.  I would like to go myself, but more because I took a class with their drummer and admired how smart he was.  Mark later tipped me off that he was in the same band I had liked.  I suspect Ryan, the drummer, wouldn't even remember me, because why would you remember some girl from a class a year ago, even if she was one of the smartest and talkative kids in the class?
While we were dancing and taking pictures, a janitor came out and looked at us weirdly.
"We're not doing anything wrong," Erin said to her as way of explanation.  And we weren't, though she skittered around us oddly. 
"You would think she was used to drunks," I mentioned to Nori, even though we weren't.  Usually when I've had a lot I feel like I'm swimming, but here I just felt like I did when I wake up from an unrestful sleep: tired and wishing for something better. 
"We should try to break into Morrill Hall!" Erin exclaimed.

There's a long story here.  Morrill is where the English department is located, and it has become a tradition for English students to "break in."  By break in, I mean go through the often-unlocked front door or climb up the fire ladder.  Almost ever creative writing kid I know has written a creative nonfiction piece about it.
I always had this weird fantasy of camping out in an office I had the key into.  In this fantasy, there was a particular young man with me.  We'd share a sleeping bag, and get up right before the sun, and watch it rise from the roof, admiring campus at dawn.  This never happened, for a wide variety of reasons. 
In the meantime, I had spent the day doing what I didn't get done when I was actually in school.  I went for a swim with friends.  I went to a co-op party.  I have a long lunch without regarding the time.  I had an evening of being silly with friends, regardless of the rules or time.  Breaking into Morrill Hall, another thing I never got around to doing, seemed right somehow. 
We drove over there, we parked in the nearby ramp.  Several cars passed us.  We stood outside the front door.  A cop car drove by.  Something about it dampened by mood. 
Erin couldn't get the door open. 
"If that door's not open, the rest of them aren't either," she said.  "Let's go home." 

Con Virgin

Yesterday, I headed over to a steampunk convention. As some of you know, I'm really interested in subcutltures, and steampunk is one of the newest around. I wanted to do a little amateur anthropology work.
But one of the things that happened was that I ran into my old friend Jack, who I went to high school with. It was through him that I heard about the convention.
Jack's a transman, which means that he's going through a transition right now. He's really cool. He mentioned to me that he wants to go back and see a particular teacher, but since he's begun taking hormones (his voice is very different now), he's a little worried about going back to see that teacher. Not so much because that teacher would hate him, but because it might be a little bit of a shock.
I know if I was in Jack's position, I would feel really awkward about it too. I told him that if he went with a group of friends (we all sat together in the back) or someone gave the teacher warning, it might be fine. I didn't think about it at the time, but I probably should have offered to go with him. Hell, I'd even be polite to my ex-boyfriend to get this to work for Jack.
Anyway, I digressed before I even got started on what I wanted to say. The steampunk convention was really cool. There was a merchants room, and I saw all sorts of cool costumes and props and other nerdy things for sale. Even though I had a fair amount of moolah on me, I always feel like I should be very careful what I buy. (NO impulse purchases.) So I mostly looked. There were some beautiful hats and costumes for sale, and they were very expensive looking. I actually managed to make myself a pretty decent costume just out of the stuff I have in my closet. The only thing I really need to do is to improve this look is maybe add an accessory or two to make it more steampunk-y. I collected tons of fliers and business cards, so I'm hoping that there will be people for me to go to for more stuff, should I decide to buy it. I'm a big believer that it's never too early to start making wishlists for Christmas or your birthday.
The only thing I ended up buying were some clip on magnifying glasses. Basically, one of the most important parts of a steampunk costume is the goggles. But of course these goggles have a very particular design, one that suctions down on each eye, making them less than ideal for those of us who wear glasses full time. So, even though this is one nerdy subculture, you can't help but feel, as someone who wears glasses, that you're being discriminated against once again. But they also make these handy magnifiers you can clip to your glasses to give you a steampunk look and still use your prescription lenses.

I'm also thinking that maybe I should use one of my belts and just buy a few simple add-ons, like a flask or jar or gun holster (with gun, obviously) and that will look way more steampunk than some of the other people I saw there. Steampunk is all in the accessories.
Matt and I headed over to the game room for part of the convention. We played the game Arkham Horror, which is based on the Lovecraft stories. It was this big, impressively complicated game involving investigators trying to stop monsters from destroying the town. The representative showing this game looking like he belonged in a mobster movie and smelled like Burger King fries.
100 posts! Which would probably be more impressive if I hadn't skipped two days of posting, just because there hasn't been much going on or too much going on for me to get to room in the day to post something.

Blood, Brain, Jelly

I'm feeling pretty satisfied with myself right now, since I just finished doing some creative writing. 
Although the piece I have produced and worked on over the last three days is only a little over ten pages long, I feel really good about.  It's a solid first draft.  Hell, it's the kind of first draft that looks better than most people's final versions. 
It's fiction, which I haven't had time to write since March, so I'm feeling happy that I wrote something other than poetry.
And I decided to try something new and split the piece up into sections.  One of the sections was titled "Blood, Brain, Jelly," in reference to the things someone had on their shirt.  It's a great title.  
(The stories has two mysteries in it, so it's not that strange of a title.  Just a little quirky.) 

Dei Gratia

Bah. I keep hoping for interesting stories, but these days, my life is mostly confined to my place, writing papers.
The writing of these papers goes well. It's slow going, but there is stuff to show for it at the end of the day. Not much, usually, but something.
Among other things, I am writing two papers, one on Matilda of Tuscany and the other on Teresa of Avila. Today, I managed to finish most of my outline on Matilda and write four pages on Teresa. So not bad. Not awesome, but I read through six different sources for the outline on Matilda, so even though it doesn't look like much on paper, I went through a lot of information.
I guess what I wish I was writing on was Matilda's awesome military might or her second husband, instead of her relationship with Pope Gregory VII. Matilda was one of the most important military leaders in European history, but she is often overlooked because she's female and no one thinks much about the Investiture Contest as a war. (Ask Henry IV what he thinks about that.)
I love women warrior images. I doubt anyone who knows me, and how proud I am of my Viking and Hun heritage, will be surprised to hear this. I love Buffy Summers, Joan of Arc, Xena, Athena, Starbuck, Fa Mulan, Sailor Moon, Boudica, Anita Blake, Nzingha, the Amazons, Artemis, Cordelia, Judith, hell, I even love the Halliwell sisters (especially Prue.) I love watching a woman kick a man's ass, especially a bastard who really deserves it. I wish there were more stories about women warriors, because I feel like those are the heroes I need in my life but don't ever get enough of. Instead I get the "save me, handsome man!" women, who annoy me. I want a woman to save the day and herself. I want women who are brave.

For example, this is the video of Chester French's "She Loves Everybody." I stumbled upon this band back in the summer of 2007 (check out their song "I'm Not Over You" if you like this.) I love this music video, not just because I love the song and the band and the boys are cute. No, I love that she beats these boys to a pulp. I love how she gently smooths their hair back, how they flinch, and then BAM! Bloody goodness.
In addition to fantasizing about women warriors, I also want to write about Matilda of Tuscany's second husband, Welf V, who she married when he was 17 and she was 46. I want to write a historical romance about it. Even though, the terrible side note of all of this is that after five years of marriage they separated.
So basically, when I'm suppose to be working on papers, these are the random thoughts I end up having. Which is not the end of the world, but it's not really helping me get these papers done.