VOTE ON SKARA BRAENS AND HELP ME WRITE A STORY FOR CHARITY

Good morning, Readers!

Remember a few days back when I got on my privileged white high horse and sad, basically, "Oi, I'm not some weird mindless twat. I am sophisticated enough to handle diversity, thank you, and, what's more, OMG I'M BORED CAN WE PLEASE GET SOME DIVERSITY UP IN THIS THING!" (the 'thing' being entertainment media).

Well, at long last, it's happening. There are two things coming up that have me very, very excited.

I posted a few weeks ago on my Facebook page a trailer for a really awesome-looking Australian science fiction show which stars an aboriginal man in the lead role.  How awesome is that?  For those who haven't yet seen it, watch it:

How amazing does that look?  Amazing, right?

AND IT GETS BETTER!

The show was written by an aboriginal man, (for his son (the lead character shares his son's name... D'awww!)) who wanted to provide aboriginal Australians a super hero of their own (much like Ottawa's own Jay Odjick and his kick-arse Kagagi (you can read about the Canadian First-Nations superhero here)).

Growing up, I had She-Ra and Xena.  Now aboriginal kids (and non-aboriginal Australians too) will have Cleverman.  This makes me so happy, you have no idea.

AND IT GETS BETTER!

Not only is this a science fiction show, written by an aboriginal Australian, with a largely aboriginal Australian cast, BUT, it draws on aboriginal myth.  Stories of the Dreamtime provide the base for this science fiction.

I read it yesterday in this article.  Now I'm really excited!  These are stories I didn't get to hear much, despite having done most of my growing up in Australia.  I know the story of The Rainbow Serpent, and that's about it.

And that's abysmal.  It's such a shame.  How much enrichment did I miss out on because aboriginal culture was, and is, so wrongfully shunned?

I'm excited because it's something new.  It's a perspective I haven't experienced yet, full of stories and myth and history that I am almost entirely ignorant about.  At long last, here are stories I do not know like the back of my hand.  New things are exciting and fascinating and intriguing.  New perspectives, possibilities and stories are the reason genre is so damned popular (no matter what the idiotic puppies might argue).  It's certainly why I read genre.

Anyway, I sure as hell hope they have Cleverman available in Canada, because it looks too good to pass up.  I must watch this!

Another thing coming to us that has me really excited is Bilal​.  Here's the trailer:

I know absolutely nothing about this story.  I do know that it involves the prophet Muhammad, and that as such, they couldn't show his face (so they depict him wearing a mask).

I also do know that the animation studio is in the United Arab Emirates.

Lastly, I can see OMFG THIS STORY LOOKS EPIC!

I really cannot wait to watch this film!  It's for the same reason I am so looking forward to Cleverman.  It's new.  It's a story I don't know.  It's a peek into a world and culture that I will only ever experience superficially.

We need these stories; not just white people who need to be woke up to a whole world of wonder, but all of humanity.  We need to hear each other's stories, each other's histories, each other's voices.  It is through stories that bonds are formed.

Beyond just magnificent entertainment, it opens our eyes to a world we didn't know even existed.

And that can only be a good thing.

Now I have a painting to work on.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

IT'S TOO DAMNED HOT!

Ahem... glad we got that out of the way.

Here's the thing, yes, I'm from Australia, but my blood is largely European, and northern European at that.  I also have a fair amount of Neanderthal blood in me.  You can probably tell by the slight reddish tinge in my hair and the fact that I'm not the most slender of builds (heavy bones, for the win!).

In short, what this means is that I hate the heat.  I have absolutely no coping mechanisms for weather like this.  None.  My tactic is literally to lie in bed, covered in ice packs. Wish I was joking.  I'm not.  And now my bed is damp.  Stupid condensation.

Any way, I'm glad to be at work today, as work has air conditioning, though I really wish I could open a window and breathe something other than recycled air.

Alright, I'm done complaining.  Until tomorrow.  Unless the weather keeps up this intolerable behaviour!

Hmph!

Anyway, Game of Thrones spoilers ahead:

I KNEW HE WAS COLD HANDS! I KNEW IT! #VaguePosting

On writing news, I'm writing.  Slowly, but I'm writing.  Last night, thanks to the awful heat, I couldn't sleep, so my brain naturally turned over some scenes for The Third Prince.  I'm looking forward to working them in, actually, but first I have to clean up what I have.  It's a god awful mess.

Painting is also going well.  I posted my progress on Thursday, since Fridays, formerly my paint-all-day day, are now devoted to Skara Braens.  It's looking okay so far.  Painting the layers of feathers, though, is taking a very long time.  Oh well.  It'll be worth it in the end.

This weekend, I was reconnected with music I love.  If you're a long-time reader of this blog, you know that I am very much a fan of the Myst series.  Myst III: Exile is one of my favourite games ever (I fucking love puzzle games, guys).  I was watching a video on YouTube that had an underlying soundtrack that reminded me very much of the quieter moments in the game, and so I went looking for the music.  I came across the soundtrack, and OH MY GODS THE FEELS!  I didn't expect the nostaglia to hit me so hard.

I bought the soundtrack.

The Myst III: Exile soundtrack became the music of choice for the entire weekend, and I will likely use it as the soundtrack to writing The Third Prince.  There is just something so magical about it.  It's epic and also has an underlying darkness that really gets my imagination running (when I'm not picturing the worlds that match with the music I'm hearing.  Well done, Ubi Soft for creating a game with music that recalls the levels so fully).

Okay, my body temperature has sufficiently cooled to normal levels, and I think I can function now.  I'm off to paint a little.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Be proud of me, Readers.  I went for a run last night.  Granted, it was inside, on a treadmill, but I did it.

I'm paying for it now, of course. Everything hurts!

But I did it.

I also managed to get back into painting and writing this week.  It's going pretty well, all things considered.  The writing is a giant mess at the moment.  There's going to be a lot of editing once the rewrite is done, just to make sure everything flows smoothly through the whole thing.  I'm not looking forward to the editing.

The painting is going better.  I'm quite liking this one.  As usual, I will post my progress on Friday on my Facebook page.  I will be posting a more in-depth progression on my Tumblr once the whole thing is finished.  This is painting four of the new YouTube video I am planning.  It'll be a while before I get the video out.  There are a tonne of paintings I need to do, and then I have to find the music to accompany it... ugh.  So. Much. Work.  But hopefully, it'll be good.  I think it'll be good.

My finger is still broken.

Most of the senior Kung Fu siblings are in LA presently, training and having fun. That means I'm teaching until they return. I might be jealous, but I can see on Facebook that they're having a good time. I'm happy for them.

And jealous.

I have nothing else interesting to say.  I just have to get back to work.  on that note...

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

I have a not so tight secret.

I'm white.

I'm very, very white.

I'm so white that I burn while waiting for the bus.

That white.

I also understand that as a white person, I'm in a position of extraordinary privilege.

Not as much privilege as some, being a woman and all, but a I do have a lot of privilege.

For example, I am acutely aware of my history - it's pretty much all that's taught in schools.  There is no dearth of white people in the media around me.  My story has been told and retold and then told again.

So, I actually don't really have a horse in the representation race.  My horse has already won.  By a landslide.

But lack of representation really fucking bothers me.  It pisses me off when a white person is cast in a role better suited to an Asian actor (ahem, Ghost in the Shell, Dr. Strange).  I'm tired of seeing talented black actors who could play fantastic roles looked over in favour of some white guy.  Or seeing a whole whack of white people where people of colour would be far better suited (AHEM Gods of Egypt.)

And more, I'm thrilled when people of colour are cast in typically or presumed white roles (Fantastic 4, Gunslinger (so excited about Idris Elba!)).

I've had arguments with people who feel the exact opposite (one guy was so butt hurt, SO BUTT HURT over the casting of an African American as The Human Torch. Dink.), and it got me thinking.  Why does it bother me so damned much?

Well, two reasons, really.  The first, is that I've had my experience with exclusion.  For a while, there was no real roles being given to women in media.  We were the love interest, the inciting incident, the pretty, but perfectly useless lampshade...  I was fortunate enough to have grown up in the eighties and nineties, with She-Ra and Xena: Warrior Princess, but I quickly realised that they were exceptions in an otherwise sausage-filled landscape.

There aren't too many chubby superheroes out there.

And, with the exception of Sherlock, asexuals are pretty much never represented at all.  It sucks to be asexual in a world saturated with sex.

Anyway, I want to see more diversity because, well, empathy.  I know a little bit of what it feels like look at the world, and find that I am, in fact, quite alone.

But not to the same degree as others.

So my perspective is a little different from theirs.

The main reason I want to see more diversity in the media I consume is much, much more selfish, and entirely enabled by the privileges I enjoy as a white person.

It's because the old white men in charge of these things seem to have had a meeting and unanimously decided that I, as a white person, am not sophisticated enough to enjoy media that doesn't star someone who is basically a carbon copy of me.

Fuck you.

As it happens, I am. More to the point, I greatly enjoy reading and seeing things from points of view that aren't my own.  I want to see stories I'm not familiar with.  I'm bored of the white story.  It's all there ever is.  Give me the Bilals of the world. Show me a mythology I'm not familiar with.

FASCINATE ME.

I'll warrant that most white people are sophisticated enough to handle media that isn't predominantly white.  I'm so tired of being patronised.  It happens too much in my life from everyone around me because of my gender.  I don't need it because of the colour of my skin as well.

Here's the thing, old white dudes, I'd like to see Egyptians in a film set in Egypt. Crazy!  I'd like to see a Japanese actress play a character named Motoko Kusanagi.  Weird, right?  Strangely, I like seeing women being real women instead of bizarre and insulting stereotypes (which I believe is part of the reason behind the success of Game of Thrones with female viewers).

Here's the thing, Hollywood et al, I'm not just a social justice warrior (and I will forever wear that label with pride - social justice is great and being a warrior is badass, so... yeah, SJW FTW).  It's not just because I think everyone should have a fair shake (though I do), and that it's high time we stopped stripping opportunities from others to give to white people - especially in the role for which people of colour are far better suited.  It's not just because of that.

It's because, quite simply, fuck you for thinking I can't handle it.

Now fuck off, and do something about your diversity problem.

Good morning, Readers!

My apologies for not posting yesterday.  It was a holiday here in Canada-land, and I neglected to write and schedule a post beforehand.

Well, no one is perfect.

I didn't have anything important to say anyway, so don't feel like you were missing out.

Someone who does generally have important things to say, however, is Chuck Wendig.  I love Chuck's blog, mostly because of its profanity-laced does-not-give-a-fuck-ishness.  Chuck tends to call it as he sees it.  Most of the time, I find myself agreeing with him, and in his blog post on Monday.  Just... just read it.

Anyway, he also posts flash fiction challenges for his readers.  Friday's challenge caught my imagination immediately, and I did something I have not done in an age.  I wrote a short story.  The deadline for the challenge was the 27th, but I challenged myself to do it in a day.  It's up on my Wattpad, if you want it (free, of course!). Click here to read my effort.

It's not spectacular, I know, but I haven't written a short story in something like sixe years, so it's not terrible, all things considered.

Speaking of wattpad.com, Skara Braens needs your help.  A new vote is required, because there was a tie the week before.  Vote.  Honestly, I'm actually quite excited about the whole thing now, and I reckon we could build a fantastic story together!  But seriously, vote.  And tell people, if you're so inclined.  The more participants we have, the more fun it'll be.  Also, that also means more eyes on the objective - charity.

Now that's all said and done, I have a huge amount of work to be doing.  It's time to get back into it.  I have languages to learn, drawings to do, and writing to commence.  Let's hope I get all of them at least attempted today.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

So, I had a very strange dream in the wee hours of this morning.  Let me explain it:

I was with the Amazing Flatmate and we were hiking up a mountain.  It was beautiful.  We crossed a bridge which spanned over a beautifully bubbling brook, and came across a convention of some kind - an eastern martial arts meets western martial arts kind of convention.  There were wooden cabins all over at various points in this space on the mountain side.  Some of them were open (no walls), with tatami mats on the ground and were empty.  Other places were tea-house style cabins, with low tables around which people were eating and drinking tea.

There were a lot of people, many of them in various styles of armour, ranging from European  styles c. 13th century to Samurai and ancient Chinese armours, and then people running around in period costumes (again, from all places) and others wandering around in plain clothes, so it was also kind of like a Renaissance fair, too.

The Amazing Flatmate and I found an empty cabin - one of the ones without walls - and started mucking about on the tatami mats.  As you do.

Well, the occupier of that cabin showed up.  He was, in my dream, a famous sensei (at least, I called him Sensei), who looked like an older, live action version of this guy:

This guy was a famous weapons expert, and he offered to let us play with one of his weapons.

This is not a euphemism.

Anyway, he started putting together this weapon (which he carried in pieces) and at first I thought it was a sectioned katana, but no.  When he finally revealed the weapon, it was the weird oversized cleaver type thing, with beautifully etched designs on the flat of the blade.

He trained me for a little bit, until his students arrived and play time was over.

The Amazing Flatmate and I wandered around this weird mountain martial arts convention for a bit, ended up hiding in a hotel room there for a little while to eat lunch and discuss which trail we needed to follow in order to get where we were going (this convention thingy was not our planned destination, apparently, just a really cool random encounter along the way).

We resolved to set off, but before that I went back to the sensei, who was sitting beside his top student, a man I recognised as the all-time champion Asian weapons fighter.  He wore a set of blue Samurai armour.

I thanked the sensei, who very graciously and warmly shook my hand and wished us a safe journey up the mountain.

Then I heard thunder, and old men yelling "DOVAHKIIN!"  And I woke up.

By the way, the thunder clap and call from the Grey Beards is my alarm.  I like to wake up in epic fashion.  It doesn't always work.

...

Dovahkiin needs five more minutes.

Anyway, that was my bizarre dream.  Any dream experts want to take a crack at its meaning?

I have the formatted copy of Sky Road Walker to inspect and approve, so I must dash.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

I feel like myself again.

*mad cheering*

I'm finally back to my normal after days of anger, frustration, misery and tears.  Jeez, what a moody bitch I am!  Oh well, that is the nature of me, I suppose.

Thank you to everyone who sent me well-wishes and lent there support.  You are all wonderful.

I'm giving myself the rest of this week off, however, and will get back to my usual writing and drawing schedule come Monday.  For now, it's rest and a whole lot of self-care.

Speaking of self-care, martial arts.  I have fallen in love with it all over again.  I mean, I always love it, but I'm currently learning two new forms (Shao Baji and Ba Bu Xiao Yao), and they're great.  Plus, kick boxing has upped its intensity a bit.  But really, it's kung fu I'm falling in love with all over again.  There is something quite magical in the intense focus required to learn a new form.  Nothing else matters when I'm there.  There is only the movement.

I'm failing at explaining it, but there it is.

Training is wonderful, and the people I train with are wonderful.  Seriously, a better bunch of folk you'll never meet.

Alright, I haven't anything of substance to say, so I'll leave it here.  Have a fantastic day everyone!

​Ciao!