I can too be the Doctor!

So, I got to do Tokyo in Tulsa this past weekend. It was very last minute, as I didn’t have the funds to go, but my Mom gave me the money to park and buy a pass for the day. And I had a blast! Got some new pens to ink the lines of my artwork. Got a Kakashi plushy. Saw a bunch of my friends. Was inspired for a Steampunk Lady Deadpool cosplay I’ve been planning.

Had an interesting conversation with a male cosplayer.

Me: I love your costume! What’s it from?

Male Cosplayer: You don’t know?

Me: Nope. But it looks neat.

Male Cosplayer: You aren’t even in a costume.

Me: Yes, I am.

Male Cosplayer: Who are you supposed to be?

Me: I’m the 9th Doctor, female version.

Male Cosplayer: But …

Me: ….

Male Cosplayer: But you’re wearing pants.

Me: Yes, the 9th Doctor is well known for wearing pants.

Male Cosplayer: ….

Me: I was thinking a little too hard about my old companion Ace when I regenerated, okay?

Okay, look, here’s the point.

The 9th Doctor, from Doctor Who, played by Chris Eccleston, wore a leather jacket, a dark V neck, black pants, and boots. My cosplay was *accurate* if not exact (but I really, really, want a coat like that!). I even had my sonic screwdriver and the psychic paper in my pockets.

So let’s not act like I was doing it wrong because I see no need for a female alternate version of a character to wear a skirt simply because it’s a female version. And the bust filling out the V neck shirt should have been enough of a clue that I wasn’t the original article.

And I still don’t know what show that guy’s cosplay was from. ARG!!!


Single in a World of Pairs

Can we all take a moment out of our busy schedules to contemplate the plight of the single woman in today’s society?

No, I’m not talking about the single woman who keeps bemoaning the fact that she keeps dating losers, man-children, and the guys who hit it and quit it. I’m also not talking about the single woman who keeps going on about “I need a man who” has a job, isn’t high all the time, won’t beat the crap out of me. Those are entirely different problems.

I’m talking about the single woman who is happy with her life and doesn’t feel that adding a man to the situation will make her happier.

Hi. I’m Jill Horton and I’m single because I want to be.

And I’m sick and tired of hearing “you just haven’t met the right guy yet”. I’ve met lots of perfectly nice men, and I’ve even dated some of them. Hey, for that matter I’ve dated a few nice women, too. I’m just not interested in tangling my life up with someone else.

No, I haven’t had my heart broken. I haven’t been hurt, emotionally or physically by a guy. And my father is a fantastic person and dad, thank you very much.

I’d like people to stop asking me if I’m dating anyone new. I’d like them to stop asking when I’m going to settle down and have a few kids. I’d like people to stop implying that I haven’t grown up just because I haven’t gotten married and/or popped out a baby.

I’d like to know where man who’s been married and divorced multiple times thinks they have the right to question my choice to stay single.

Mostly I’d like people to stop acting like I’m defective because I’m single and in my thirties.

I have interests, hobbies and goals that keep me occupied. I have a job. I’m trying to find a job that will make use of one or both of the degrees that I got while I was busy being single. I volunteer at Sci-Fi/Comic conventions and get to meet some fantastic people that I’d never get the chance to talk to in any other situation. I create things. I craft and I write and I draw. I enjoy going for target practice. I like to get out into nature and take photographs.

I have a life.

And I don’t think I’m missing anything just because I don’t have a man taking up space in that life.

To the women who do feel that something is missing in their lives when they don’t have a romantic partner, I wish you all the best of luck finding a wonderful one.

Just stop treating people like me, who are single because we want to be single, as if we’re somehow defective because we don’t feel like there is a person shaped hole in our lives.

Who knows? I may some day find someone I want to make a space in my life for, and I might want them to make a space for me in their life.

But I’m not going to go man hunting just because we live in a society that says I need one and I should want one.

Aging Resistant Culture

At what point did aging become something we aren’t supposed to do? And something we should be ashamed of when it does happen? When our hair starts going grey we’re supposed to dye it, and having our roots show is a fate worse than wrinkles. Except we’re not supposed to get those either. Our skin isn’t supposed to sag and the gods of media forbid that our butts and busts start heading south. Losing your hair? There’s an app for that! Or at least there are medications, oral and topical, for that as well as surgical options.

But why? Why all the dyes, creams, lotions, pills, lifts and tucks? When did aging become a horrible illness?

Ah, probably always. The myths and legends of things like the Fountain of Youth, ambrosia, and various golden fruits have been around since before recorded human history.

The problem is that it’s now a big business. The cosmetics industry is laughing all the way to the bank because of our obsession with looking younger for longer. And they’re using advertising to make us feel insecure about time’s effect on us. Getting old is not longer proof that we’ve survived, it’s almost a social crime. We spend the first two decades of our lives trying to grow up, then we spend the rest of our lives trying to convince everyone that we’re still young.

Y’know what? My hair is starting to go grey. My waist is thicker than it was ten years ago. I’ve never had a butt, and my bust lost the battle with gravity a long time ago. I’ve got a frown line between my eyebrows, creases in my forehead, and I’m starting to get crow’s feet at the corners of my eyes. But other than generally take care of myself, I’m not planning to do a damn thing about it.

Because I am getting older. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Shocking Pics of Stars without Make up!

… The hell is so shocking about that? No one wears make up all the time. Not even famous people. And has anyone else noticed that all of these “stars” shocking the world by venturing out in public without cosmetics on are all women?

Now, I’ve had my little rant about why I don’t usually wear make up. I’m pretty sure that the same applies to the actresses and other celebrities that articles like that are about. More so even. After all, who is going to do a full on Hollywood glam make up job just to take their kid to the part? To hit a coffee shop or a deli? To pick their kid up from school or to run into a store for something to have for dinner? Somebody explain to me why a woman jogging or walking her dog without her face slathered in cosmetics is so shocking?

Perhaps the shocking thing is that I’m apparently a member of the minority that does not care what celebrities get up to in their private lives. Unless they’re an actor that does something utterly, mind bendingly, stupid and/or insane that makes the news, I Do Not Care. Really, even then I have a difficult time caring unless it’s something that creeps me out to the point where I’m no longer able to watch their work without a voice in my head going “this is the guy that jumped on Oprah’s couch about how much he loved a girl half his age” or “this is the guy that drunkenly rage-screamed multiple offensive things at a female police officer” and of course “this is the guy that tried to beat his more famous girlfriend in public”. That stuff bothers me more that “this is a guy that got caught with a transexual hooker”.

But apparently for the rest of the world it’s “a famous woman left her house looking less than perfect! HOW DARE SHE!”

Seriously? This is the mindset that our world operates under.

This is the thinking that makes men feel like they’re owed a beautiful woman, and then the ones who don’t receive one, naked on a silver platter, piss and moan about how we’re all whores, sluts and gold-diggers that don’t look twice at “nice guys”.

This is the thinking that leads to crap like that entitled little turd in Santa Barbara killing people because he couldn’t get laid even driving a Mercedes and with all the money his daddy has.

I do so hate to be the one to point this out… No, wait, I’m lying and I really shouldn’t do that. I love being the one to point this out.

Women don’t owe men squat.

We don’t owe it to you to look pretty at all times. Not even if we’re famous.

We don’t owe it to you to passively accept it when you shout things at us on the street.

We certainly don’t owe you sex just because you behave toward us with common decency. Or even because you bought us a drink, or picked up the check at dinner.

I weep for humanity.

Okay, not really. I’m not that emotionally invested in humanity as a whole, although there are individual exceptions. But there are also individuals that remind me why I just can’t seem to connect with the concept of valuing the overall collective of homo sapiens in their entirety.

I work in a junior high school cafeteria, I serve lunch to kids between the ages of 12 and 16. For the most part they’re only slightly annoying. But some times … some times I just have to point out that any day I don’t leave work in handcuffs is a good day.

I’m one of those people who always has to be doing something. I can’t just sit around on my breaks and listen to the other gals chit-chat. So, I knit while we’re on break. One of the projects I was working on during our lunch break was a blanket for my mom. The kids in in-school-suspension had come down to get their food before the others came down to eat while I was knitting and one of them asked me what I was doing. I explained I was making a blanket for my mom… And one of the girls piped up with the helpful suggestion of “why don’t you buy her one”. Because my mother asked me to make her a blanket. Because making her a blanket by hand, putting my time and effort into creating something is worth far more than going to one of the big chain stores and dropping some money on something that was cranked out by a machine. I don’t understand how a kid can’t get that.

And today, oh, glorious today after which there are only four more days of work before summer break and my resuming my attempts to find a job that will actually make use of my two college degrees…

Ah, anyway, today at the end of fourth lunch, when we were down to turkey and cheese sandwiches, a boy decided it would be funny to pop off about how the food was always “shit”. I told him he didn’t have to eat it and if he thought it was so bad he could give me back the plate and go sit down. He told me I was old.

From his point of view I suppose I am. I’m likely around the age of his mother. But I was a good functional adult and didn’t ask if he talked to his mother like that or if the hyena would admit he was hers.

Any day I’m not dragged out of work in handcuffs is a good day.

Today was a good day.

So, why don’t you wear make up?

I got asked this question at work a while back. I mostly work with other women, and I’m the only one who doesn’t wear make up on a regular basis. For the most part, if I’m not doing something special I don’t bother wearing make up.  I don’t feel that going to work five days a week to listen to middle school students complain about the food we’re serving them qualifies as doing something special. (Why do we always/never have pizza? Seriously, we offer them pizza three days a week.) I certainly don’t feel the need to make myself look attractive to people between the ages of twelve and fifteen. Because, that’s just a really gross thought. Really.

Not to mention, taking the time to do my make up and do anything more ambitious than twisting my hair into a bun with a few hair pins? That’s a hour earlier that I’d have to drag myself out of bed by not skipping the beauty ritual. I’ve showered, put on deodorant, brushed my teeth, and my clothes are clean. What more do you want?

Let’s now cover reasons why I do bother with make up!

I’m going to a wedding, yep that’s a reason to wear make up. Because if I like someone enough to show up for their wedding I probably like them enough to look my very best for the occasion. Heck, I’ll even wear a dress and heels!

I’m going to a RenFaire. Why for the RenFaire? Because my foundation has sunscreen in it, and I’m willfully pale. Willfully pale sounds better than saying I burn like flash paper.

Halloween is another reason to bother with make up, so is going to a dance club with my friends. Of course, I also tend to be wearing a corset for these occasions. Um, and also to the RenFaire. Trust me, a properly laced corset is a lot more comfortable than you’d think, but that’s probably another rant and involves back pain.

I wear make up especially if I’m going to be working at a fan convention, most especially if I’m working with any of the actors, artists and/or agents at the fan conventions. Let’s face it, if there’s anyone I want to think I’m well put together and professional it’s going to be someone famous that I may end up working with again at some point for a later convention. Especially if they’ve seen me dancing it up all night during one of the convention parties. But in that case I’m mostly just hiding exhaustion and possibly a hang over depending on how good the party was, and how far away the bar is.

Make up is mostly a waste of time. I have other things I need to get done. I have fanfiction that needs editing, a short novel that needs rewriting, art that needs inked, scanned, colored and filed (even if it never sees the light of day again), and knitting that is begging me to leave my laptop to give my brain a rest.

Do you really think I’m going to take the time to put on make up just to go to work and then right back home?

From day to day, who the heck do I have to impress with my appearance? And why should I need to? If you don’t like the person I am with my face scrubbed clean, then you probably aren’t going to like the person I am with perfectly applied make up. Because I’m the same person. You’re going to get the same bitchy resting face, the same blank stare when my mind has gone off on an “oh, what would happen if” plot idea, and the same rampant sarcasm pouring out of my mouth.

I suppose that ultimately what it comes down to is that asking me why I don’t wear make up is like telling me I should smile. If I don’t have a reason to, I’m not going to do it and telling me that “you’d look so much nicer if you did” is just insulting.

win an ARC of Jim Butcher’s SKIN GAME

Looks like Jim Butcher is adding a new level of epic to his list of awesome!

Et in arcaedia, ego.

Jim Butcher’s SKIN GAME, the latest novel in the Dresden Files series, releases on May 27th. In anticipation, this authorized trailer debuted last week and now I’m giving away an advance reading copy (ARC).

To enter: Post a comment on this entry telling me what you find most intriguing in this trailer.

Only one entry per person. Domestic (US) and international entries accepted. This is for an ARC, not the hardcover edition. Contest starts now and runs until Friday, May 16th, 5pm Eastern (unless Harry doesn’t save the world this time). Winner will be randomly chosen.

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