The Holiday Incident

This was a little strange.


Last night I was stretched out in a recliner enjoying the warmth from the woodstove. I had a mug of rich creamy eggnog (Mmm nutmeg!) close at hand. From another room came the soft instrumental of White Christmas on the radio. I was feeling all drowsy and at peace with the world, when I started to hear something outside. I smiled, thinking “Carolers” when it dawned on me that it was too early in the Season yet for that.

So who were the people I could hear outside?

I went to the window and looked out. There was a mob on my front lawn trampling my snow. I might have ignored them entirely, but they had pitchforks and flaming torches.

And they were incredibly angry.

Concerned, I took another long sip of my eggnog.

“Down with the Atheist Agenda! Save Christmas!” I heard one of them yell. Well that got me a little annoyed. I went to my computer and quickly checked over my official copy of the Atheist Agenda, thinking there was something to worry about.

I went through it line by line….eating christian babies?...check…banning prayer in churches?...check…beating little old ladies on their way to Sunday Services?...check…

I went through the whole Plan. Nothing in it had anything to do with Christmas. I relaxed. I’d worried than someone in our ranks had spilled the beans and been telling tales. The person on the lawn had just been guessing.

From outside, I heard someone else cry out “We will win the War on Christmas! Save the Season!”

Shit. War? War.

I put down my eggnog. This was serious. I carefully reached for a gingerbread cookie. No cookie crumbs fell into my computer keyboard. That was good.

I checked Our website, expecting to see text of our leaders gravely discussing our declaration of War on the religious holiday.

Nothing was there.

I checked our affiliates, thinking maybe someone had gotten a little overexcited about something and fired the first shot prematurely.

Nope. So…who declared war on Christmas? I googled.

Christians. Wow. Christians had declared War on their own Seasonal celebration, but were trying to pin it on everyone else! I dunked my gingerbread into my eggnog and nibbled while listening to the rabble on my front lawn.

I was going to have to pull out the big guns to get those nutters away from my house. This was going to get messy.

Having decided, I went to my desk and grabbed three of my chosen weapons. 40% Off coupons for some big name game console at a nearby electronics store.

Regretfully, I tossed them off the balcony and into the crowd. The punching, kicking, and biting started before I’d even made it back inside.

By the time I’d finished the Religious Incident Report for my local Chapter of Evil, it was all quiet on my front lawn.

I made plans to call some friends the next day to help me with the mess outside. I did go outside briefly to gather some pitchforks and the remains of the torches. Their handles would make a nice addition to my woodstove.

Oh! Tragedy! My snowman was demolished! And bloody snow doesn’t hold together well, or look very nice. I would have to bring out the plastic Frosty the Snowman.

Just like last year.

My Relationship, My Business

So I was reading some True Confessions in the Singles section, and I started to see several variations of an "instruction" that I recall being influenced about somewhat as I was growing up (they really should re-name that website Trainwreck Confessions as there are some doozies, but anyway...).

Here it is in a nutshell: "Ladies, if He is not proposing within a year, leave him and move on. You are wasting time that could be spent on someone who WILL commit."

Maybe when I was younger, I might have considered this to be "good" advice. But now I look at these "confessions" and as I google around, honestly I find the priorities valued in this statement and others like it to be absolutely abhorrent and mercenery.

According to the Society that values such a statement...the state of Being Married is more important than WHO you are getting married to. And if a guy is not willing to shell out the money for The Ring (oh the shallow BS I've overheard regarding that ornament!), go through the ordeal of a wedding, and set up house with you within a certain timeperiod...nevermind how happy he makes you, or how content you feel about your relationship with him. Sorry, your relationship has exceeded its 'Sell By' date and must be discarded.

I'm really glad my parents raised me to see my independence and self-sufficiency as the highest priority. I never saw marriage as my life's "goal". The folks didn't raise me to view marriage as the finish line. Actually, the only finish line I had, was to complete college and get a job that paid enough for me to be able to support myself. EVERYTHING else I've done since then, is all my own.

Marriage is not something I NEED to do, or am SUPPOSED to do. I suspect that takes a lot of pressure off, as I watch other women go absolutely nutballs obsessing over their looks, their clothes, and stressing out over some arbitrary self-imposed time limit.

I remember one female associate of mine had just had her 23rd Birthday, and she said to me that she would have to get serious because: "I've got to be married before I turn 25, or I'll be the biggest Freak."

I remember those words quite well, especially as I was 25 myself when she said this to me. I occasionally wonder what became of her. Did she meet her deadline? Or did she realize that the deadline for obtaining a significant other paled in comparison to developing and loving her significant self?

I celebrated my 33rd Birthday last month. I spent it with my BF and my family at his place having a lovely dinner (he's a fabulous cook) and enjoying being together. Yet according to the "one year" BS, I should have moved on a long time ago. That is just appalling to me. I'm happy. A lot happier than I've been in relationships past. I'm not going to sabotage something wonderful because it doesn't fall into "acceptable" Social "values".

But other women would do so. They would leave, or threaten to leave a wonderful man. They would hold the relationship itself hostage in pursuit of a perceived Finish Line...a Happily Ever After (not so happy  if you are issuing Ultimatums), without realizing that a Life together only begins with a wedding. The wedding is not the end.

A Life Shared seems more precious and valuable to me than a ring, a dress, or a wedding. I wish other women felt the same way, and could see themselves as whole people instead of incomplete halves.

A Few Words On The Holidays

Just to let you know, I’m not the most holiday oriented person. My decorating is limited to one battery operated desk-friendly snowman with shifting colored lights in his belly, and two mini stockings (purple) nailed to the bedroom door.


I give the snowman a couple fresh batteries, and the stockings stay nailed to the door all year long. A holiday scented wax tart gets popped in the wax warmer and that my friends, is the extent of my festive expression for the season.

My mother always finds my seasonal expressions to be insufficient. I don’t think a year goes by anymore without her calling me “Scrooge” at least once regarding my lack of decoration (we celebrate Christmas in her well-decorated home every year, if I’m not celebrating gift exchange at my place, what is the point?), and my expressions of distaste regarding what passes for Christmas music these days.

I’m sorry but songs about children starving, grandma’s dying, and wives fighting a losing battle with cancer are not “touching”, “sentimental”, or “inspiring” to me. These songs are depressing as hell. I’m not sure when it came into vogue for Christmas songs to be tragic odysseys of melancholy despair…but it’s not a trend I enjoy one bit. I’ll listen to White Christmas or Jingle Bell Rock, but I don’t want to listen to heart gouging glurge. Tears in my eyes and a giant lump in my throat are not Christmas-y to me.

“But WhiteRaven, aren’t you an atheist? What are you doing celebrating a religious holiday at all? Isn’t that an admission that you actually believe?”

Christmas is just one of the current names for this celebration. The celebration itself is older than that name, or its older names like Yule or Saturnalia. The celebration is more important than the name attached to it, and I can say Christmas just fine without bursting into flames, though I usually stick to “Happy Holidays” as a greeting as it covers everyone regardless of their religious proclivities. I occasionally have had people angrily say “Merry CHRISTmas!” in response to my preferred salutation. I find this ironic and hypocritical as supposedly this is the season for peace on earth and goodwill to all mankind, yet some Christians are steadfast Holiday Hogs and don’t want to share the Season with the rest of us. And yes, I single out the Christians on this one, as I’ve never had anyone rudely snap back with “Happy HANNUKKAH!” or “Happy KWANZAA!” when I greet them with Happy Holidays. There may be some touchy celebration hoggers in those camps too I’ve just not encountered them.

I mentioned before that the celebration is more important than the name attached to it. What do I mean by that?

I’m referring to the psychological value of social connection. I will admit I’m a hermit. It’s not that I don’t value the people in my life I just don’t have that need to connect on a regular basis with people beyond my intimate circle. My mother (and I’m sure other folks) sees this as a flaw, and express that I need to “try harder” without really understanding what this means for introverted little me. I let the people closest to me know I care with specifically chosen gifts, and online shopping is my best friend in the world. Less actual shopping means less stress for me, and more people I’m willing to get gifts for, and my social circle can expand a touch as a result.

Funny, but the Santa Claus concept represents a figure that makes me look extroverted by comparison.

Think about it. The guy spends 364 days with just his wife, some reindeer, and elves (non-humans). Then on one night a year, sneaks into every home in the world to leave carefully chosen presents for people while they are ASLEEP. If that doesn’t say “I want you to know I care about you, I just don’t want to have to deal with you.” I don’t know what does.

Like Santa, it won’t kill even the most reclusive amongst us to take the time to think on our loved ones and see to it we show our appreciation by giving them a gift that shows we really DO pay attention to them, and appreciate their interests even if we don’t tell them so all the time.

State Fair Sized Infants

15 Pound Baby

Can someone tell me when the media turned childbirth into a 4-H Club contest? I turned on the news this morning to watch a newsanchor slobber all over this story. Words like "wow" and "amazing" kept getting tossed out like this behemoth infant were a prize winning heifer at the State Fair.

Are your kidding? Is the size of this kid really that much of a shock? Look at the boy's mother for crying out loud. That woman is heavy. And that's not babyweight, that's long-term lifestyle heavy. Her husband is no featherweight either, but next to her, even HE looks diminutive.

Any why is this story getting "wow"s and "awesome"s from the media table anyway? This is a kid, not a cabbage. You do not get high scores for birthing heavyweights, you get childhood health problems like diabetes, early arthritis, and obesity (there's a shocker). Just look at the pictures of this poor boy. He just looks wrong. But positive media attention is the reward. That's just great. Need we guess what kind of message that sends to people who crave attention? Get fat! Have fat kids! Have LOT'S of kids too! Odds are good you will be featured on National News at the very least. But hey...fat...health problems....AND a horde of kids? Hellloooo TLC Channel!

 (When did The Learning Channel = Obesity, Little People, and SuperBreeders? Anyway...)

And the proud parents are nicknaming him "butterball". They call his sister "pork chop" (born at more than 11 pounds).  My how sweet. One would hope such "nicknames" would vanish once a child was old enough to understand it's given name...but from what I've seen in my extended family...nicknames are for LIFE.

I can just hear it now...that girl will be getting ready to walk out the door with her date for Prom, and Mom walks up with the camera saying "Smile Pork Chop!"

But yeah. I Googled "heavy babies" and got lot's of results pointing towards the health concerns for these kids. Once this one's 15 minutes of fame are over, he's just destined to be another trundling toddler without the energy to play.

Sad.

A Tale of 2 Lap Babies

Story 1 – Last year I was sitting in First Class for my 5 hour flight, and I noticed that there was a Lap Baby present. The child was clean and dressed in nice but comfy clothes. The parents were equally well dressed. The child was happy, and took pleasure in attention in an undemanding way. When the child got a little fussy (once….in 5 hours), the parents quickly conferred with each other, and Mom took the child to the bathroom promptly.


Story 2 – Three days ago, I was sitting in First Class for my 5 hour flight, and I noticed there was a Lap Baby present. The child was sloppy in a threadbare onesie pajama. The parents were dressed in a fashion that…well…I honestly had to wonder how in fuck they’d managed to be seated in First Class (my first thought was that a Walmart somewhere was missing some customers). The child was frequently screaming, and when it wasn’t, it tried to crawl over the backs of seats to reach for the heads of folks sitting behind, or was on the floor grabbing the ankles of the folks sitting in front. It was eventually handed off to stewardesses who practically demanded the kid after 5 minutes of the parents just ignoring the shrieks (they were able to keep the kid quiet…but the parents couldn’t? Hmm).

After the Lap Baby in First Class last year, I had been pleased that there were still people who took the trouble to take care of their kids, and see to it those children were not a burden to others. I had been happy to share First Class with this peaceful and responsible little family who made me feel a glow that their child would be part of the future.

Then I encountered the striped pajama monkey three days ago. If anything, the difference between the 2 stories highlights the difference between parents and breeders. Parents do not assume the world at large is responsible for, or has to put up with their children. Ever. Breeders assume that children are meant to be tolerated….by themselves and everyone else. Nice.

Thing is…I travel First Class as much as possible just so I can avoid small children. It’s not that I can’t put up with cranky kids on a short flight, anyone can do that. But my flights are NEVER short. At least one leg of my travel is going to be about 4 to 5 hours no matter what. That is a long time to put up with disruptive children. Especially the ones travelling as Lap Babies. What are people really saving by not purchasing a seat for their young child? This depends highly on the length of flight of course.

Think of a young child as a wiggly little thermonuclear reactor that makes various levels of noise in relation to its discomfort. Ever have a cat sit on your legs? It’s sleeping peacefully, and you don’t want to disturb it…but your thighs are cooking off and your feet are asleep! How long can you tolerate just the weight and increasing heat of a housecat on your lap? Time it. Seriously. Find out just how long you can tolerate that. If you are miserable after an hour...think of how you will feel cramped in a plane seat with dry air and pressure changes, turbulence, or overhead announcements upsetting your very young child.

Also consider…eventually (after your legs have fallen off) the cat finally gets to feeling too warm, and moves off your lap. At least, it’s going to try to. You have to force it to stay right there. I hope your cat is declawed. What happens when your lap baby overheats on the plane? If you have someone travelling with you, at least you can pass the kid back and forth and that cuts down on some of the discomfort for all involved, but it doesn’t relieve much if the child in question is just plain tired of being held. If you think the vocalizations of the protesting cat are annoying, just wait until junior starts up because he doesn’t get that you can’t put him down. Unless you are one of those people who doesn’t realize the travel realities of beverage carts and people going to the bathroom, or you just don’t care…you cannot reasonably put your baby on the floor of a commercial aircraft.

Oh, and if you are one of those people who think your child has every right to be wherever you put them even the aircraft floor, other people and service personnel be damned, consider this: Just how well do you imagine the plane is cleaned between flights? Those maintenance folks are in a hurry, and stuff is often missed. I once found some of the stuff that gets missed, and guess what? Folks taking insulin shots can be just as inconsiderate and thoughtless as Entitle-Moos who think their kid should be able to crawl everywhere they want. I found used insulin needles in the magazine pocket once. You need to read that again? I found USED NEEDLES!

One can only guess what charming wonders your little one could find on the floor. Would you like to guess how many prescription pills accidently get dropped during a flight? Some of that stuff is potent. Not even a whole intact pill would be needed to affect a young child, and you know everything that touches their hands will eventually end up in their mouth. Even if it’s just powdered remains of a pill crushed into the floor the vacuum cleaner missed, the results could be life threatening. Would you let your infant crawl around licking the floor of a New York subway car? No? What is the difference besides less graffiti and a little more upholstery?

But what the heck, let’s say your baby is truly a wonder. It falls asleep on every flight, never cries, and never wants to roam the aircraft. It is perfectly and blissfully content to smile at appreciative stewardesses and fellow passengers in passing, and makes Tibetan Monks look agitated and disruptive in comparison. You are very lucky.

It still might be good to get an idea of the frequency of clear air turbulence on your flight route before you decide to just lap your baby. Taking a look at sites like this could be helpful, but it’s a sketchy and unreliable sort of prediction. Especially if you are booking a flight a couple months in advance, a few days of clear air turbulence tracking is not going to be that useful. People can get injured by clear air turbulence. And only the people wearing seat belts diligently (even when the sign is turned off) are going to be safe from being bounced around like a dried pea in a tin can.

I know air travel is safer than travelling by car. That is going to be true if you consider crashes to be the only significant danger of travelling by air, but as I pointed out with the needles and dropped medications earlier, what you need to be concerned with are specific dangers that affect YOUR CHILD. We already know that we cannot physically hold children safe from the force of inertia in a minor car collision we can see coming. Do you really believe you can be more successful against inertia when you can’t see it coming? The danger of clear air turbulence is minimized in our minds, despite knowing it can cause injuries and fatalities, simply because it rarely results in the crashing of the entire plane. The news of 2 people dying from getting knocked around is overwhelmed by the relief that they whole plane did not go down.

If a grown adult at 120+ lbs can be fatally knocked around as a result of clear air turbulence, do I really need to point out what happens to a 20 lb. lap baby? My imagination doesn’t really want to go there, and it doesn't have to. There are some descriptions in the articles linked in the next paragraph.

But if it’s really a danger, why do airlines allow lap children? I can hear you asking me that. Because when you consider the biggest risk being clear air turbulence…the odds are in your favor. The airlines are willing to let you take that risk based on those odds. They do not want to lose revenue and use the travel statistic of air being safer than car as their justification to allow unsafe practices. See? And there’s this article, and this one. And no surprise, there are those trying to abolish the practice….but like every safety feature and FAA regulation…rules are not laid down without sufficient blood.

I may not want kids, and I may find screaming babies annoying as hell, but I think they do deserve more safety consideration than they are currently getting from the FAA. And given that consideration, even story 1 with the good lap baby deserves a little more parental awareness. When every other mode of transportation requires safety seats by law…you have to wonder why the FAA would just say it’s okay to “hold ‘em on your lap”. This is Federally Endorsed Neglect disguised by “intent to help you save money” folks. YOU are required to wear the seat belt, secure your property, and even secure THEIR crappy tray table (that is broken ½ the time)…but your kid? Nah. Just hold it.

Either accept that children cost travel money as much as you do, and see to their safe transportation, or do not travel until they are big enough to justify the cost (for you) of purchasing a seat.

Question For the Day: Ft Hood Jerk

Been on vacation, but now I'm back.

During my vacation (on my Birthday no less) the Ft Hood Massacre took place.

And a rare thing has occurred...the perpetrator of this violence was apprehended before he could off himself.

The jerkoff is in the hospital with his four gunshot wounds...but he's awake and talking.

Now...here is the question for the day:

What is it like to be the nurse who has to go into his room and interact with him?

Does he or she say "Good Morning" to the person responsible for killing 13 people and wounding 29 others?

And what about little "accidents"? Granted, the guy is likely under guard, but how excited are they likely to get if the nurse happens to oops and drop his orange juice in his lap? So what if it happens 3 or 4 times with every meal?

Of course I suppose it's possible there are no nurses taking care of his day to day requirements at all. Could just be MPs changing his bedding and serving his meals. But the same questions apply.

It is so rare for mass killers like this to survive, there really isn't a "How To" guide for the folks who have to take care of his needs. And he's not in a correctional facility hospital yet. So it's not like he's being treated by people who deal with murderers regularly at this time, unless caregivers with this experience have been temporarily reassigned to this Army hospital.

So perhaps the question is moot in reality.

But what whould you do if you had to be this guy's nurse? What minor torments (if any) would you employ?

Fallout 3 - How I Handled SubQuest "Oasis"

So, yes, I play video games. Fallout 3 is an excellent game. I want to talk about one sidequest in it. Major Spoiler potential here, but if you had the same moral and intellectual conundrum I did, maybe reading my thoughts on it could help you. Maybe.

Granted, it’s just a game, but I still like to be able to feel that my in game decisions are right for me.

So here is the deal, you character comes across a little place in the wasteland teeming with green growth. The place is called "Oasis". It turns out, all of this growth stems from one man, Harold, who has rooted to the spot and been there for decades, while a mutation ravages his body. He has named the growth “Bob”. Yes, he talks to it, and yes Harold is a tad mental.

There are three options.

1- Put Harold out of his misery (he's very bored) by killing him.

2- Rub a substance on his heart to inhibit his overall growth, but keep him alive.

3- Rub a substance on his heart to accelerate his growth so the greenery spreads all across the wasteland.

Now, one of these 3 options, I dismissed immediately. No way in hell was I going with option 3 (more on that in a minute). The very idea was bone chilling. I was stuck between the other two.

I was curious as to what other people decided to do, so I started checking the game forums. Boy was I surprised at first to see other people considering option 3 as a valid choice, and even going so far as to call that greenery “natural”.

My first thought, was “are people really this retarded?” Not a very charitable thought, as I then considered that many of these people were quite possibly just kids who had not yet taken even a HS Biology class yet.

Let me tell you the problem I had with option 3. Harold made it quite clear that all the greenery was still “him”. That it was like having senses all over the valley his mutation had covered so far. That means, from a biological consideration, all the trees, plants, and grass, despite having different physical structures, are still genetically the same. Not just the same, but still all one single organism.

Harold got this mutation by falling into a vat or puddle of goo inside a military facility. By what definition can one call this “natural”? Whoever started the association “green = good” needs to be slapped back into his or her momma.

The critical element for a successful ecology is biodiversity. Harold’s growth is the opposite of biodiversity. Granted, it’s a shortcut to a green planet, but at what cost in the long run? The pools of water surrounded by greenery have just as much radiation as water anywhere else in the wasteland. Maybe I would have felt differently if the greenery were having a tangible positive impact on the environment, like removing or reducing radiation levels wherever it grew, but it did not. The greenery was just there for its own sake. It just looked pretty. Nothing in nature exists just to look pretty. In fact, things that are pretty in nature serve to attract organisms that the pretty thing finds useful in some way. And by useful, I mean they serve as either a vector for proliferation (spreading seed), or as a resource (food). That consideration makes the greenery “Bob” potentially ominous.

Now, is helping Harold commit suicide an option? Depends how you feel about suicide. I consider it a last resort. The question I had to have answered was “Is Harold’s potential for personal development over?” And at first, it seemed like that answer was “Yes” as he was stuck in one spot, and the people who came around him were only there to worship him.

But then I talked to Sapling Yew, the little girl, and learned that Harold did indeed have a friend, and where there is one friend, there is the potential for other friends. Having friends who can come and share stories, and Harold being able to still do the same…yes, Harold still had the potential for personal growth.

The other thing to consider, at this point with the growth “Bob” already spread across this valley, there is no guarantee the death of Harold would mean the death of “Bob”. And given my feelings already mentioned about “Bob”, that seems like a Very Bad Thing.

So I went with option 2. Inhibit the growth (stopping “Bob”) and accepting that Harold would continue to live, likely for a very long time. But considering that knowledge in the Fallout 3 Wasteland is at a premium, with undamaged books selling for considerable bottlecaps, Harold has the opportunity to become a living repository of knowledge for the future generations. He can be more than he currently is.

I also imagined future scientists (after completing Project Purity) could travel north, and really study Harold and “Bob”. And discover for sure whether or not “Bob” represented a true potential for benefitting the Wasteland (then come up with a way to undo the growth inhibition), or if he really was a potential ecological disaster fortunately stopped before it had a chance to upset the existing biodiversity (scant though it is) of the Wasteland.

Lot of thinking for a video game, I know. But that’s just me.

Entitle-Moo and Tween Invade Post Office

So yesterday I had to mail a box. The day before yesterday was a Federal holiday, so I had a pretty good idea that it would be busy when I got there.

Sure enough…major line. I share an understanding nod with a couple folks in front of me, and settled in to wait.

Suddenly, the door bangs open, and in storms this little tween girl, who takes in the sight of the line and loudly begins to exclaim about its length. Her mother follows her into the postal office, and starts exclaiming even louder than her tween about all the people in line. Like what the hell were WE all doing there?

So then moo-om gets in line behind me, and tells her kid to go linger where the postal workers can see her, maybe they would be “nice” and disregard everyone else because she had been in earlier a couple hours ago. I’m happy to say that did not work.

They had been there before trying to track down the boots this kid ordered from China. The tween had filled out the delivery instruction for where she lived instead of where she would be, and there was now a routing issue. How do I know? Moo-om couldn’t shuddup about it. For half of the tirade, I really don’t know who she was talking to as I sure never turned around. A guy got in line behind them (after sulky brat came back from making the try to hop the line), and then moo-om took his courtesy hostage, but prior to the man’s arrival I guess she was ranting at the world at large before he got in line. Charming.

I can say everyone in line felt the same way about this woman and her kid because everyone’s shoulders would tighten in unison every time the woman spoke. The guy in front of me turned just enough to give me a sympathetic look (bitch was practically yelling in my ear) before facing forward again.

The tween kept exclaiming, loudly, about how pissed she’s going to be if the postal workers don’t hand over her boots. Now…my mother would actually have gotten after me for saying something like that. It’s not that she never got pissed off at people, but she made it very clear to me that it wasn’t appropriate to get pissed at people until they’d earned it. Openly and loudly planning to be pissed off (basically threatening people), was inappropriate.

Not according to this girl’s moo-om apparently. She was in total agreement with her rude little sprat. Really fun was when they’d caught sight of the guy who’d tried to help them before. Tween exclaiming (at volume still) that she didn’t want help from that “Asian guy” after he’d “screwed them up last time”. As if she could alter random chance while the line was still 10 people deep, and dictate which of the employees were going to give her service.

I was sort of amused in a way. She didn’t want service from the Asian employee at the post office after ordering footwear from China. I would have pointed out the irony if it didn’t mean actually having to talk to these people. Rather doubt they would have appreciated it anyway.

It was as if everything that went through this kid’s head had to come spewing forth from her mouth. No filter at all. Nor volume control. My mom would have sent my rude ass to the car, or more likely threaten to take us out of there all together as I clearly did not deserve the effort she was expending to help me get my boots, and I could just wait until the postal service sorted the issue out.

I almost wish I’d hung around to see how their encounter with the Postal Workers went. But by the time I got my package sent off, I just wanted to put some miles between myself and them.

As I left, I wondered how and when this tween girl was going to be slammed with the fact that the world did not actually revolve around her. Not that awareness and realization of that were guaranteed if her moo-om were any example. She’d pretty clearly missed that memo herself somehow. And was active and eager to influence her daughter's "social skills" shudder

Terra Nova Review

I caught the Opening night of Terra Nova by Ted Tally, directed by Tom Skore at UAA last Friday. Tally wrote the screenplay for ‘Silence of the Lambs’, so he’s no stranger to creating the framework for intense visual entertainment.

Director Tom Skore’s talent for ‘herding cats’ is evident in his prior directorial work, and no less so in this performance. He inspires actors to really dedicate themselves to their roles while at the same time allowing for their need for self expression, but not to the point of going in opposition of the playwright’s intention.

Terra Nova was the name of the ship that carried Robert Falcon Scott to Antarctica to make a try for reaching the South Pole in 1912. The play Terra Nova recounts what happened on that Expedition.

I would go so far as to say that what happened to these men heralded the beginning of the end of modern humanity assuming it had carte blanche dominion over the natural word.  A truth harshly confirmed a few short months later with the RMS Titanic sinking.

I have to give credit to Costume Designer Frances Covais Lautenberger. Authenticity of appearance was a major point as pictures from the actual Expedition were part of the performance.

Lighting Design was handled to beautiful and stunning effect by Daniel Anteau, who was tasked with the challenge of bringing the Aurora Australis inside…and virtually to the opposite pole! Patterns of haunting beauty and desolation were conveyed. This was enhanced by the Sound Design put together by Erick Hayden. The combination of the light and the sound were sufficient to make one feel Antarctica in their seat. Bring a sweater. In this ambience you may need it.

And then there were the actors themselves.

Jaron Carlson plays Scott. He conveys the pressure of being a public figure subject to the expectations and hopes of his entire country, the uneasiness of trying to balance being a national hero with just being a man with a young family, and the upsetting jolt that carrying the tried and true values of his society to the most uncivilized place in the world may not only fail, but could even be fatal to the men he considers as younger brothers and sons.

Nathan Huey plays the role of expedition member Edgar Evans as a man pushing to be part of something he sees as greater and grander than himself. His determination to match reality with his dreams, and his physical drive to succeed the race to the pole in spite of the odds make him someone we understand and sympathize with on his trek.

The role of Lawrence Oates was played by Bradford Jackson. The Perfect Soldier, Jackson manages to fill a pretty big pair of shoes as a man’s man whose selflessness would have been beyond belief had there not been a recording witness. Oates has become a romantic figure in entertainment and in art, Jackson brings the heroic angel down to earth and turns him back into a real human being with merits, flaws, and aged beyond his years by his life in the service.

Joshua Kovach plays Dr Edward Wilson, principled and dedicated, he is the beating heart of humanity for the expedition. Joshua delivers a sense of deep care and sensitivity for life. His embodiment of the sympathetic ear is downright priestly in its degree of confidence. This quality adds greatly to the sense that the group shares a deep bond just as the original members of the Expedition did.

The part of Henry Bowers was played by Zach Gowdy, as a man short in stature, but large in personality, he is the organized and undisputable optimistic spirit of the party. Zach embraced the sense of ease, merriment with enthusiasm and friendship. The group banter flows around and through him naturally, his timing for humorous delivery was excellent, and served as the glue binding these men together.

Kathleen Scott is played by Tiffany Guinn with a welcoming warmth and affection, seasoned perfectly with an intriguing and delightful prickliness. Kathleen Scott was a woman of strength and personality that most women were just beginning to own in that era. Antarctica disappears in a sensation of warm summer when Robert Scott remembers her, only for the cold chill to come howling back with a vengeance when immediacy demands his attention.

The practical antagonist embodied by Scott’s imagining of his competitor Roald Amundsen is played by Eric Holzschuh. He is as goading as he is encouraging to Scott, he speaks hard truths, but like Cassandra of Agamemnon his words go unheeded. As time and hardships increase for the party, Scott’s delusion of Amundsen becomes increasingly real to the point of him becoming almost an unmentioned sixth member of the expedition.

The actors complement each other extremely well as they work to bring to life not only the text as Ted Tally wrote it, but to do honor to the history of a group of men who pushed for glory at the bottom of the world.\

This performance runs from October 9 through Sunday October 25th, Fridays and Saturdays, 8 PM with Sunday Matinees at 3PM. Directly following the Sunday 18th performance, there will be a symposium on Arctic climate change.

Ticket costs on Friday and Saturday performances are $13 for general admission, $18 for reserved seating. Sunday matinees are $10 for general admission and $13 for reserved seating. Discounts are available. Call the UAA Theater Box Office (907) 786-4849 for more details.

Introduction

I've made the mistake before of trying to maintain a blog with a very narrow topic focus. As a result, there were tons of things I wanted to talk about that I couldn't, and nothing to talk about regarding stuff I could.

I'm not doing that this time. This blog will have a few focal points, but if I decide I want to talk about pigs eating bacon...I'm going for it.

Here are some things about me...this relates to some of the topics that you can expect to find here at some point.

1 - I'm Child Free. I am not Child Less. The distinction is that I have made a deliberate and conscious choice regarding the possiblility of having children, and decided that it is not and never has been for me. I feel having children is something you should want, not just do because it's in the "life script".

2 - I'm an Atheist. I do not believe any religion, past or present, holds the divine truth of the universe. As a result, the divine beings these religions are focused around are no more real than characters in a fictional novel. At this time, we do not have the capabilty of proving that the universe displays deliberate intent, design, or management on a higher level. I have a mind, I'm going to use it without restriction, and it happens to require actual evidence.

3 - I'm an Alaskan. I live in an awesome place dammit, and every so often you are going to hear about it. Possibly see it if I can trouble to get a camera I enjoy using.

4 - My politics are mine. I'm neither Red nor Blue. I'm Purple and proud of it. That means Sarah Palin mania annoys me, and if Obama does something messed up, I'm not going to sugar-coat about it. I'm not on either team, so I'm not going to worry about my views offending one team or the other. I work my ass off at elections time to learn relevant information about candidates (I don't care what their respective Party made them wear) before picking and punching my ballot.

5 - I'm a 5'1" female. Only recently (helped by reading other blogs) I've learned my hatred of shopping for clothes is justifiably placed...especially when you've been shopping in the wrong section for your body type. Petite in clothes is about height, not girth (shush, I've lost 18 pounds since April). I'm not going to bore you with fashion "wisdom" as I don't have much, but I may want to occasionally crow about the occasional shopping success.

That seems like a good start for now. Already topics are jostling around in my head desiring self-expression. Good, but I don't want to over-post myself out of subjects of interest! So I will go ahead and bring this post to a close.