Just a Sci-Fi Kid Like Me

I learned that there's a hashtag #MonthofDick on bluesky and sadly it is for people reading Moby Dick and not gay hockey.

I'm currently halfway through watching Heated Rivalry and picked up a different gay hockey romance just for curiosity's sake. A colleague has been on a mission to read ALL the hockey romances -- they've read 72 so far -- and wants to make 2026 the Year of Sapphic Hockey which I find great.

So I ended up joining a book club through my record store -- it's four of us altogether, I'm the only girl and relieved by how frankly pure the other guys are, and we had a sincere conversation mulling the popularity of hockey romances right now. All three guys are straight so they are earnestly puzzled, but in a "never would have thought, that's So Interesting" way as opposed to (derogatory), and so we were discussing the attractions of enemies-to-lovers and so on.

But then today I suddenly had the thought, imagining the academic world in 100 or 200 years, and the students who would be earnestly reading and studying 21st Century American Pastoralism, the flux of novels that took place in coffee shops, bookstores, and other cozy-but-in-real-life-more-stressful-than-charming locations, and how they would be interpreting that, and also of course the gay hockey. And I found imagining this world so INTERESTING because imagine this future student who had grown up with these charming novels and then doing research about sports injuries and everything and being so upset about it, like how Victorianists really end up deep-diving into all of the medical studies about STDs and stuff.

Anyway, these are the thoughts I have when the world is on fire.

 Let me tell you how much I loved FRANKENSTEIN. (Also: Scott loved it even more than I did and kept exclaiming and occasionally whimpering throughout because that boy has the book memorized so he had to just say some lines with the characters and stuff.)

I learned about the Taylor Swift engagement not from news alert pushes, not from fan friends or memes, but WHEN MY HUSBAND TEXTED ME ABOUT IT.

My main thoughts remain:

1) Scott heard about it first, and also this confirms he was a "secret" Swiftie all along (look I know he borrows my Swift albums and also ONLY my Swift albums)

and 

2) because I'm horrible, my immediate reaction was "if they get divorced the follow-up album will be AMAZING." 

So it's spring now. I am still snowed under. I took a long weekend just because and spent more of it napping than I meant to.

Me: I don't know why I'm so tired.
Friend: You have a lot going on, and also the Fascism.
Me: ... Yeah that would do it.

Mom was briefly in the hospital with a UTI, her vitals were stable, but she still had to ham it up, "WHY are you asking about my HEALTH INSURANCE? Can't you SEE I am on my DEATH BED?!"

I have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday morning and I am going to ask him about anti-anxiety meds. (I'm on some mild anti-depressants but the anti-anxiety could be nice.) I am trying to deal with the capitalism in my brain scolding me about all the things I am behind on when in fact I do a lot and have more than earned a break.

I hope all of you are as safe as can be. Don't let the bastards grind you down.

Just really busy with Real Life and trying to stay on top of things (usually with mixed success). I've also joined Bluesky this week because I feel like I'm watching my social media starting to stutter in the wake of politics and still want to keep track of people, so, here's hoping.

NB. Composed as an addendum to the story of Gimli and Legolas in the Appendices.

The Elf Maid and the Dwarvish Prince

It is said that in earlier times that there was another such pair of friends, although they were not borne of battle. In the last days of Eregion when the children of Eru and the children of Aulë had not yet come to their strife, a minor daughter of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain was chance acquainted with a Dwarvish prince from Mount Gundabad in those days before it fell to the orcs.

( Read more... )

 

Scott and I finally caught Covid. Most likely from a friend who went to a con.

Tonight we were feeling sorry for ourselves and decided to go full RotK: DO YOU REMEMBER THE TASTE OF STRAWBERRIES, FRODO? NO, SAM, I DON'T REMEMBER THE TASTE OF FOOD, OR WATER, OR THE TOUCH OF GRASS!

It's a good thing we're stuck together, we'd drive everyone else in the world batshit.

 I took a whole week of staycation and did very little beyond sleep, play records, read, and play video games. So I feel calmer than previously.

Let's see: Todd's Mom died; she didn't wake up from her surgery and she'd made her wishes known, so after a week she was taken off the ventilator. He said that despite her wishes it made no one feel less shitty. The last week and change he has been involved in memorial and funeral planning and stuff.

My Mom's not well and I was thinking about how I should try to be more thoughtful about "present" about our interactions, and yet she is still her same awful self, so that's... something.

My friend with breast cancer has been to multiple appointments and is opting for a double mastectomy with reconstructive surgery. On the plus side once that's done she need never wear bras again. Although she also noted before this she had JUST bought new ones which are expensive, so fucking real life man.

My boss came back from leave and then went on leave again for surgery and she is ... herself. I am part of a cohort to receive "executive coaching" which starts next week and I'm kinda like "so are there plans to give me any kind of real authority or am I just here to be counted?" I don't know.

Did I tell you guys I got a record player? Scott bought it for me because watching me dither endlessly is apparently exhausting. I've spent the last two months getting records and enjoying listening to them: a mix of recommendations, happenstance, and things I already love. I entertain the local record store clerks with my choices. Example: This week I bought Taylor Swift's Folklore, Mdou Moctar's Nigerien EP No. 1, and The Goo Goo Dolls' rerelease of their first album when they were still punk. The clerk, a grizzled old dude who is actually pretty entertaining if you get him going, surveyed them, paused, and said, "Okay, you take the award for most diverse collection. I have never seen this combo before. Good for you!" 

Todd calls record collecting Emotional Support Vinyl and he started during the pandemic. He is fucking brilliant. It's been soothing as hell these last weeks.

 When you tell your therapist why you have anxieties because of specific family traumas and she gets so outraged on your behalf she doesn't know what to do, so you tell her to turn Linkin Park up on high, and then 15 minutes after your session she messages to say that yeah, that helped, and also "In the End" is a great song.

Yeah it is, now put on NUMB!

I know where the past two months went, but they were minor eternities all the same. There was the day of frightening ice, and there was the day of doctor's phone calls, and there were days dark and bright spent with my bestie doing our little poetry workshops.

I am so overwhelmed with real life but I am doing my best, and as ever there's no way out but through.