Good morning, Readers!

Today I am wearing a smart, navy blue dress that comes down to the top of the knee and ties at the waist with a cloth belt.  It's wonderfully appropriate for work.  I'm also wearing my N7 flats.  Because of course I am.

Some of you will probably fall over in surprise.

I'm wearing a dress.  It is a relatively rare occurrence for me to be wearing skirts and dresses, though it's getting more and more frequent.  That begs two questions: Why was it so rare and why is it getting less rare?

Well, part of the answer is that people I know are cleaning out their closets, which means I happily acquire their hand-me-downs.  I'm happy to.  It keeps me from having to go clothes shopping - something I really do not like.

The other, much more relevant answer goes a little deeper.  I have discussed it before, I think.  The fact of the matter is, I used to hate being a girl.

I hated it.

I hated that I was treated differently from the guys.  I especially hated that I was expected to behave differently from the guys.  They got to do cool stuff.  They got to play rough.  They got away with cursing a blue streak.

Boys will be boys, after all.

But girls, well, a girl must act like a lady.

I.  Hated.  It.

It led to a complete rejection of everything feminine.  I didn't wear dresses or skirts.  I refused to wear make-up most of the time.  I resented that it was expected that I would go into Home Economics instead of one of the shops (woodworking or metal working).  Screw the system!  I took woodworking.  I was one of two girls in that class.

Now, keep in mind, however similar this may sound to many of the stories you hear, this is vastly different from the transgender experience.  I never once felt like I was a boy, despite wanting all the freedoms, choices and opportunities that boys had, and resenting being a girl so much.  I knew I was a girl, and I felt I was a girl.  I just hated everything that came with being a girl.  I hated being a girl.  I realise, in retrospect, I'm saying that I hated myself.  And I did.

For a long time.

Then, somewhere around my last two years of high school, began the slow realisation that I didn't hate myself nearly so much as I hated the roles that others ascribed to me based on my gender.  I had no interest in being a home maker, which seemed to be expected of me.  I had every intention of being the breadwinner in my future.  There was never a husband in my day dreams.  No domestic bliss.

There was just me, kicking arse, owning my own shit outright, living my own life for no one but myself, gender roles be damned.

And to be honest, I've stuck with that (though not really consciously).  I'm involved in stuff that most people would find to be "masculine" pursuits.  I lift.  I adore kick boxing. I enjoy weapons training.  Collecting swords is kinda my thing.  I want my own leather and maille armour set.  I like watching the U.F.C. - and not because some guy dragged me to the bar, either.  Oh, you laugh.  The number of times I have heard, "So, did your boyfriend drag you here?"  I usually respond with a scoff or a death glare.

Seriously, guys.  Don't say that to girls who show up at a bar to watch a fight.  It's loaded with a bunch of really insulting assumptions.

Anyway, the point is, I'm not particularly "feminine."

I never really thought all that hard about it until I went home to Australia last year.  Apparently, drinks are very gendered over there.

For example, I rather enjoy a Bundi and Coke.  For those of you not in the know, a Bundi and Coke is a rum and Coke made specifically with Bundaberg Rum.  I've always liked it.  So, when I went home, I drank it.  My sister's husband said something to me that I'll never forget.  He said, "You know, you're the only girl I know who likes to drink these who isn't a complete Westie."

Let me translate that for you.  According to the slang dictionary, a Westie is:

Basically, women who like Bundi and Coke are considered uncouth or 'dyke-ish'.  The same label, I should note, is not applied to men who like to drink the same.

For good measure, my sister added, "Sonia is a man in a woman's body."

It really stung at the time, mostly because it wasn't true.

I am a woman in a woman's body.

I just think that gender roles are absolute horse shit, and if I enjoy a Bundi and Coke (or swords, or armour, or U.F.C.), I'm not going to pretend I don't to please some bizarre notion of what women and men are supposed to enjoy.

And why the hell are drinks gendered?  Of all things?  Drinks?!?!

That sting was the first time I acknowledged to myself that I was completely and wholly woman.

I had, prior to that, been very slowly accepting the other side of myself; the more feminine side.  The side that saw myself in a dress or spied a pretty skirt in a shop window, and said, "Damn!  I like that!"

Now I am far more comfortable wearing a dress or a skirt.  I no longer associate feminine things with weakness or incompetence. Why? you ask.

Well, things slowly started to turn around for me for many reasons, the greatest of which was representation.  It matters a whole lot, and I will dive into that topic tomorrow.  For now, I have a tonne of work that needs doing.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

So, I've been doing a lot of thinking.  That's rarely a good idea.  If I think too much, I get depressed... Not that I could get any more depressed to be honest.

I'm not angry any more.  Now I'm just sad.  It's a struggle to find things to smile about at the moment, but there is a lot out there that does.

My family and friends, for example.  They consistently make me smile.  Last night after training, I came home to find this on my bed:

This is why I consider Jasmine to be the Amazing Flatmate.  I need to start a cartoon strip about all the awesome things she does.  She also made me my favourite cake.  Her apple cheesecake.  You don't understand.  This thing is heaven on a plate.

It made me smile last night when all I wanted to do was drown in tears.

There are things that I sometimes deliberately seek out when I'm feeling down.  Bits by the Irish comedian Dara O'Briain is one such thing.  Whenever I'm feeling upset, I just go looking for clips of him on YouTube and in seconds I'm laughing so hard my stomach cramps.  Here's one of my favourite clips of his:

I'm listening to it now and even though I've heard a thousand times, it still cracks me up like no one's business.

Russell Howard's Good News is another thing that makes me smile.  Russell Howard is a fabulous young British comedian with a great show that makes fun of things that happened in the news.  He always ends his show with a segment called It's not all doom and gloom, in which he highlights humanity's more beautiful moments: a man rescuing feral kittens during a flood, with feral cat mamma sitting on his shoulder.  Or a blind boy who has managed to learn how to use echo location to not only tell where an object is, but what it's made of (not even joking about that.  It was incredible).  Or the story of a girl who had no friends until a stray golden retriever puppy was adopted into her family, and now she and the dog are best buds, and the dog has helped her to be able to socialise with her peers.  Now she has tonnes of friends.

I frakkin' love that segment.

Then there are other things.  The smell of lilacs on the breeze as you walk past a park.  Birdsong waking you up gently at ridiculously early in the morning.  A cat waking you up by decided that your pendant is food, and how careful he is not to take a bite out of you.  Cat cuddles late at night before the house settles down to sleep.

Beautiful dusk skies during an evening walk.

Good food.

Painting.

Writing.

Music.

There is so much out there.  So much beauty.  So much joy.

I am so grateful for it all.

Even in the bleakest moments there is happiness to be found, if we but look.

Good morning, Readers.

So.  I'm upset today.

I received word last night about a beloved family member - my step mother - last night when I returned home from training.  She was diagnosed some time ago with small cell lung cancer; quite advanced.  In operable, incurable.  At the time, they gave between six months and a year.  She lasted years.

Now, however, the cancer has spread too far, and her chemotherapy won't do anything for her but reduce the quality of life she has in the time she has left.

She has elected to die at home, and arrangements are being made to find her a palliative home-carer.

We all knew this would happen, but I'm still sad and angry about it all.

I only hope she doesn't suffer.

I'm also very worried for her husband, my dad, who can now do nothing but sit by and watch his wife die.

Fuck cancer.  Fuck it right in it's horrid little ear.

Good morning, Readers!

I have some exciting news!

Thanks to my good friends Jen and Eric Desmarais, I now have a television with an HDMI input.

I arrived home Friday evening from ComicCon pretty tired but feeling good.  I jumped on my computer to catch up on all the YouTube videos I missed (I lead an exciting life) when a text came through.

Insert sound of record scratching.

Wait... what?

Not only had my friends continued to be on the lookout on my behalf, they also snapped one up for me as soon as they saw one.

And it was very inexpensive, too!

Do you realise what this means?  This means that I finally get to do my SMC Awkwardly Plays videos!  YAY!  I hope to get the first one done this weekend.  I intend to connect everything up Friday evening and test it out then.  If it all goes well, then I get to add another segment to the Silver Stag Studios list of shows.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

So, a giant thank you to Jen and Eric, who are some of the loveliest people I think I know.  You both made my weekend with that television.

If you may be so kind as to indulge my need for reflection at the moment.  I've been through a bunch of shit where other people have treated me terribly.  It's been pretty bad at times, triggering some of my worst depressive episodes I've ever had.  Some of theses people were once quite close.  Some of them were always distant.  Some of them were family.

Some of it was very recent and still smarts.

And then there are people like Jen and Eric, and the Amazing Flatmate, and awesome folk like Tom and Tracey, Marie, Rob and others.  It helps so much knowing people like these.  It's hard to retreat into my misanthrope shell knowing people like these.

You all rock.

Thanks for being awesome!

I heart you all.  Now I'm off to daydream about playing my Xbox...

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

So, this weekend just past was Ottawa ComicCon.  As most of you know, I scored a last minute table, and I had some last minute fun!

It was a great event, as always.

I'm not going  to give you a blow by blow retelling of the event.  I couldn't even if I wanted to.  It's already something of a dull blur in my head.

I do want to say, however, I almost completely sold out of books.  By the end of the convention, I had one book left.  One book!

That sounds impressive, I know.  It's really not that impressive.  You see, I had very little stock to begin with.  I got the table so last minute that there was no way for me to order my usual levels of stock.  So I went with what I had left over from C.O.N.  The truth is, I needn't have sold that much to sell out.

But I sold out.  WHEEEEEEEEEE!

Ahem.

Anyway, I did see many returning readers, which was so much fun.  You guys are genuinely wonderful!  Thank you for stopping by my table for a chat.  I hope you're recovering from the weekend.

There were so many great costumes!  I took a few photos of my favourite ones and put them in a gallery on my Facebook page.  You can view them HERE if you like.  I didn't take as many as last year, 'tis true.  Alas, I was concerned about the amount of storage on my phone.  Sorry.

Funny story, though.  I almost crashed into Will Wheaton.  I say crashed in the most literal sense.  I almost physically collided with him.

Did I say hello like a normal human being?  No.

I ran away.

In my defence, I was on a mission of the most urgent kind.  A lovely lady had accidentally left her three day pass on our table after buying a pair of shoes from the Amazing Flatmate.  I took it and ran, hoping I could find her.  In my hunt, and because my eyes were focussed in the distance, I didn't quite realise that Mr Wheaton and his folk were right beside me when I turned.... and almost walked right into him.

Oops!

I saw a camera first, held against a grey shirt, I looked up briefly.  My brain went, "Shit!  That's Wil Wheaton!" and then it immediately followed with, "No time!  The great conjunction is at hand!  You must find the nice lady!"  And off I zipped without nary a word to one of the convention's main draws.

Sorry, Wil!  I actually would have liked to have said hello.  I'm a huge fan of your blog and your person, and wanted to thank you for being so open about anxiety and depression.  It has helped me so much.

But no.  I ran away.

Moral of the story: returning lost property is more important than celebrities.

At least, that's what I tell myself to make myself feel better for being an idiot at best, and downright rude at worst.

Sigh.

Still, it was a wonderful weekend.  Everyone was so lovely, and it was so much fun, and even though I wasn't nearly as well stocked as I would have liked, I did alright.  Lesson learned, however.  Together with the Amazing Flatmate and my wonderful friends at JenEric Designs, I have already reserved my spot for next year's ComicCon.  I'm really excited to have them as neighbours again.  All of my favourite people in one place during one of my favourite events.

Yay!

And now I must rush off to edit video for tonight's episode of Nights at the Round Table for Silver Stag.  I was so exhausted at the end of the convention yesterday that I just didn't have the energy to get it done.  With luck, it won't take so long to upload this time around!

Wish me luck!

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

I know I don't usually post on a Sunday.

Today is, however, an exception.

Today is Mother's Day, and I want to reach out and thank all mothers.  Raising a child is scary and hard and goodness knows few enough can do it.  So I raise my glass to all those who are doing it and have done it.

I particularly want to express my love and gratitude for my own mother, who worked really hard to bring not just one, but four children into this world; four children who I think are pretty awesome people all things considered!

I know I was a difficult child; not in the sense of always getting into trouble.  No.  I actually didn't get into trouble much at all - not in school, not with the law...

But I must have worried the crap out of her, what with my temper and my depression and my anti-socialness (it's now a word) and my general disinterestedness in what other kids considered fun.

She never stopped being there for me.  Even now, when things get difficult, I still need to call my Mum, and she still lends her ear and much needed love.

She never stopped encouraging me.  Even now, despite my hair-brained scheme of trying to make a living writing fiction.  She's always there with pompoms, cheering me on.

My mother is one of the most wonderful human beings on the planet.

I love you, Mum.  Thank you for everything you have done, and still do.  You're a wonder.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

I got very little sleep last night, so please excuse me if this post is full of typos.  It probably will be.  I'm not functioning at full capacity.

Why was I up late last night?  Oh... no reason.  Just editing a video... a video that I've been meaning to put together since almost two years ago.  I had found the perfect song last year, and received permission from the artist to use it at the start of this year... some five months ago.  Yup.  I'm just that organised.

It was the trailer for The Seraphimé Saga. I originally was going to do one for each book, but one - they're a package deal and it made sense to make one trailer for both, and two - I never managed to make the trailer for the first book before the second came out, so there was no point to doing it now.

My book trailers are normal a minute or so, but since this was for two books, and because I just couldn't bring myself to cut the song at all (I love this song, guys), I decided to let the trailer run for the full length of the track.  Three minutes isn't that long, if we consider one trailer for one book might be one and a half?

I'm struggling to justify the length.  That's what's happening right now.  But the song!  I love the song!

Anyway, here is the video:

My take away from this video is that I need a better microphone.

Right, the song is "Eamifámut" (Ancient Forces) by Berit Margrethe Oskal.  You can but it and her other amazing music HERE.

It is sung in Sámi and these are the lyrics, with their English translation below:

Eamifámut, eaminiegut
Ealli jurdda, ealli doaivva
Eat mii vuollán,
eat mii goarrán



Ancient forces, ancient dreams
Living thoughts, living hopes
We will not surrender,
we will not disappear



I think it's pretty perfect for the series.


Anywho, let me know what you think of it.  I'm off to pretend that I can actually function today.


Ciao!