Category Archives: Uncategorized

Thankful

Happy Thanksgiving, Americans! In addition to being a time for ret-conned history parables, overindulging on the gobbler that could have been our patriotic bird, watching football, hanging out with family, and making good use of our sweatpants, today is a day for being thankful, so I thought I’d take the time to remember things I am thankful for.

Thankful in 2013

  • I am thankful I am born in a country and in a time where food is abundant, the quality of life is good, where I have the right to vote, where my life is not threatened, where I have access to healthcare, and where I can pursue my dreams. (Sadly, this is not true everywhere. And yes, several of those points could be improved, but this is the thankful list, not the complaining or political list.)
  • Turkey feast. With mashed potatoes. Extra mashed potatoes.
  • I am grateful that my family and dearest friends are in good health and have good nutrition available.
  • I am blessed to be able to spend all my free time writing my third novel.
  • I am shocked beyond imagining that I found a good partner, with a good heart and strong mind, who wants to spend the rest of his life with me. This is an incredible blessing.
  • I have two fuzzy critters to keep my days interesting.
  • I’m thankful for the lifesaving medications I can access that make my life easier and better.
  • I am grateful that I have the freedom of expression, and can speak out against political injustices as I see them…or just write weekly blog posts if I so choose.
  • I have a stable job that allows me to use my background while remaining energized for my side business and writing.
  • We live in a time of wonder, where we can interact with each other, wherever we are, and even with some of our icons. This is an incredible power, unthinkable to generations before us, but it’s easy for us to take it for granted.
  • We live at the intersection of a new era in publishing. It’s hectic now, but I look forward to the many opportunities to come.
  • I can get themed shows on Netflix.
  • I am thankful for books. All the books.
  • I have the internet. I can look up things in an instant, or spend hours learning new things or just watching cat videos. All Hail the Internet.

What are you thankful for, today and every day?

(Also, happy extremely rare Hanukkah, everybody!)

 

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Quitting Cable Meant Losing Serendipity

There is just one thing — one thing — I miss about having cable television. It strikes me on long quiet afternoons or days when I’m home sick, and I haven’t yet figured out how to fill the gaping void it has left in my life.

See, for the most part, I don’t need cable at all. I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore (more time for writing! Back to NaNoWriMo, heathens!), and when I do get the urge to crash in front of the boob tube, I’ve got Netflix. (That’s how I’ve been bingeing on Buffy. I can’t believe I missed that show when I was a teenager!)

And 99% of the time, that’s perfect. But sometimes… sometimes you just want the wonder of discovery. That random clicking around through hundreds of pointless channels, most of which you never asked for and can’t decipher anyway, until you find something glorious. Or at least something adequate.

There is nothing like clicking randomly until you land on How The Grinch Stole Christmas (the original, of course!) when it’s just started. You have to watch that! Plus Law & Order is always on, so that’s a safe bet when your head feels like it’s exploding from the flu. Or if you’re just needing background noise, there was sports, Food Network, or, my favorite, HGTV.

Plus it was a great fall-back excuse if you got caught watching something you otherwise wouldn’t admit watching ever — what? Oh that? I just stopped on a random channel and it was on.

Yeah, that doesn’t work when you have to choose your show. (Plus it keeps track of what you’ve recently watched, so it’s extra-hard to hide your shame shows and guilty pleasures — I have no excuse for watching 40 episodes of Say Yes to the Dress.)

Netflix, Apple, Hulu and the rest don’t have anything like that. You have to be intentional about what you watch — which, of course, is actually why I dropped cable for those. But still, sometimes I miss it.

Oh well. More time for writing.

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Halloween is Ruined

Grown-ups have ruined the ultimate kids’ holiday. After it stopped being linked to religious holidays celebrating dark gods or the dead, Halloween became this awesome time where people got to dress up (mostly as something scary, but whatever) and walk door to door to ask for candy, sometimes also playing silly tricks on people or intentionally scaring themselves by doing something safely risky, like going to a haunted house. Even kids who were total chickens (like a certain writer who shall not be named) got to enjoy the holiday, feast on a ridiculous amount of candy and watch a slightly scary movie.

Some time in the past 15 years or so, though, grownups have absolutely ruined Halloween.

Driving down one of the main drags in my area, I can see no less than 5 signs for “Fall Festivals.” My office is wanting to throw a “Trunk or Treat” to offer a “safe, family friendly environment” to accept candy. Kids still dress up, but they’re almost universally cheap, poorly constructed costumes (and don’t even get me started on the pink explosion for girls’ costumes), and there is absolutely nothing scary left for under-15s.

The “Trunk or Treat” phenomenon particularly drives me crazy. Rather thank walking door to door in your neighborhood, full of strange people you call …”neighbors”…you meet up with people in  your own smaller community to get candy while walking the long and dangerous trek…of a parking lot. Woo, what a thrill.

And excuse me, what is there to be afraid of in your neighborhood anyway? Don’t tell me it’s that you’re worried about someone poisoning your kid; the only verified case of someone tampering with candy was ONE case, years ago, and it turned out the parent had done it. So as long as you aren’t planning to poison your own kid, trick-or-treating (with the parent walking nearby) is probably perfectly safe.

For the past 5 years, I’ve had candy for kids who come trick-or-treating. In 5 years’ time, I’ve had three trick-or-treaters. And that’s in several neighborhoods. So I’ve eaten a lot of leftover candy, and had time to build up some frustration.

Is it that we’re coddling kids (and the adults who go with them) by avoiding anything that might be scary? Well that’s foolish. Frankly, the world is a scary place, and being able to put fear in context — this is scary for a second, but you can be brave! I’m here with you! — is a valuable skill. Also? Fear can be fun. There’s a reason people intentionally go to scary movies or read horror novels or like watching bad TV shows (*cough* Once Upon a Time *cough*).

But I don’t think that’s all of it. I think we’re afraid of our community now. We don’t want to go door to door to talk to our neighbors because it might be the first and only time we see them. It’s “better” to just not have to ever face that other person, who might be different from you, might not like you, and to stay in our nice cozy little environments where we already know people and don’t have to do that terrifying “getting to know you” thing. It’s easier to be so afraid that we lock ourselves indoors.

That fear of connecting in a real way is far more insidious than any spookiness that Halloween might dredge up. And that’s a real tragedy.

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Exercise Your Voice

You could say I’m gym-phobic. I’ve never felt comfortable going to one, never knew what I was doing, felt intimidated by spandex-clad shark-grinned instructors, was certain everyone was silently mocking me while I struggled with the treadmill.

But last year, I made a New Year’s resolution that I would start taking a fitness class. I figured a class was a surefire way to get myself moving at least an hour a week (and that when I know I’ve paid to be somewhere, I show up even when I don’t wanna).

Through luck and Google Maps’ navigational skills, I ended up at a Nia class, and it was the best thing I did all January. And I’ve gone just about every Saturday since.

I had no idea what Nia was before I tried it, and I struggle to explain it now. It’s a dance class, but it has martial arts, too, and yoga and imagination, and it changes every week and it’s pretty much nothing like Zumba. It’s a barefoot exhilarating, strengthening, enlivening class.

My class is overwhelmingly female, and while I don’t think Nia is a “lady class,” I think women take to it particularly well because it’s a little subversive.

One of the main lessons I’ve picked up in my classes has nothing to do with how high I can kick or my ability to do a cha-cha step. Nia has taught me to use my voice.

I think it’s a byproduct of my gym-phobia, but there’s a hefty dose of my personality (hello, mousy writer stereotype!) and cultural teachings. See, my gym classes in middle school and high school were like this: girls, go play badminton. Boys, we’re going to play football. Boys, today we learn how to use the weight machines safely; girls, Jazzersize time!

(I never did learn how to use the weight machines, which would have been really freaking useful come college, thankyouverymuch.)

All my attempts at exercise were quiet. I was so terrified of being noticed, of being watched, that I made no sound at all. I never talked to helpful-looking strangers or panted aloud while clambering awkwardly on the stair-stepper. I was head-down, intensely concentrating, focused on getting out of there as soon as I humanly could.

But that doesn’t work in Nia. Nor, I found, did I want it to.

Our instructor, Jule, cheerfully encourages us to vocalize, leading by example. Most of the time, it’s martial arts-style “ha!”s. But sometimes, she does something radical:

Ok guys, say “NO!” when you perform that block. Let me hear you: “No! No! NO!”

This was revolutionary to me. It was like we were visualizing obstacles in our lives and literally beating them down. Woah.

Other times, we may hiss or meow in cat pose, or say “YES!” or “one!” In one class, we ran through a litany of “you!” “me!” “we!”

After 10 months, I’ve noticed a theme. Overwhelmingly, these vocalizations — which turned out to be fun to do — are about defining our personal space. “NO!” comes up in fighting off imaginary attackers, or fending away an overloaded schedule of tasks. “YES” invites us to try new things, to be clear in what we want and do something about it. “ONE” reminds us that we are only one person, and we are there exercising just for us. (Even when we’re pretending to be cats, we’re taking ownership of our personal space– you don’t want to pick up a hissing cat, amiright?)

That’s what is so subversive about it. Drawing boundaries around yourself, speaking up for what you want — these are things we are often told, as women, aren’t for us. We are expected to accommodate others, to be flexible, to give up our needs in exchange for being someone else’s caretaker.

It’s taken me a few months, but now I am loud and present in my class every week, shouting with the others in our group. Finally, I can own, and voice, my participation — saying YES every day.

Note: Other exercise routines might do this for you, but Nia is what works for me. If you’re gym-phobic, keep trying. There’s something out there for you.

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Spooky Romance

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Kids, this is what folks mean when they say to find someone who will love you for who you are.

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October 9, 2013 · 9:05 am

I’m a Terrible Bride

I'm a writer, not an artist, ok?  See how  only two dresses have some kind of straps/sleeves? Yeah, that's an overrepresentation. Strapless EVERYTHING, OMG.

I’m a writer, not an artist, ok? Click to see it bigger.
See how only two dresses have some kind of straps/sleeves? Yeah, that’s an overrepresentation. Strapless EVERYTHING, OMG.

I try not to talk about it much because I figure most folks don’t care one silly wit, but I’m getting married in the next year. This, so far, has meant that I’m doing a lot of talking to people who want to sell me lots and lots of things I’m “supposed” to have, and for which I don’t really have a lot of money.

We’re on the dress stage. And I’m suddenly finding out that there are a ton of presuppositions about what that is supposed to mean. I knew about some stuff: mom and girlfriends squeeing over a dress; white satin and lace and sparkly things; fitting rooms and sample sales.

But I didn’t expect so much pressure to like it all.

So that’s why I’m a terrible bride. I don’t necessarily love the experience. Getting into dresses was hot, time-consuming, stressful, highly pressuring and…well, hard. Picking a white dress out of a bunch of nice white dresses is like picking the prettiest flower–they all have nice things you can say about them!

And in this case, all the flowers are danged expensive, too, so that’s another thing I have to worry about.

But most people I’ve talked to about it have been all “oooh, don’t you just love it? Isn’t it so exciting?” Well….no?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to get to marry my fiance. He is the bee’s knees. He makes me smile and makes me a better person. I feel like I can do anything with his support. But wedding planning isn’t exactly a bag o’ fun.

Beyond that, I find that some of these ideas have seeped into my brain somewhere along the line. I had this idea that buying a dress would come fully charged with “MAGIC”: There is supposed to be this magical moment where I put on a dress and look more beautiful than any woman who has ever lived or been imagined, ever. There might be fireworks, but at least sparklers and glitter cannons.

It turns out there aren’t even pom-poms and, when I put on a dress, I look exactly like me…in a dress. I don’t somehow look “more” or “better.” It’s just me, looking a little flushed from the lights and a bit bedraggled in the hair because you have to “dive in” to so many of these dresses that can otherwise stand up by themselves.

How I think I should look (left) vs. How I really look. Click to read the tiny writing.

How I think I should look (left) vs. How I really look. Click to read the tiny writing.

Despite all that, I think I’ve found my dress. I’ve been plagued with doubt because it wasn’t a magical transformation, but reassuring words from bridesmaids and groom alike are helping. Plus I’m going back to the bridal shop for the third time–I’m sure the owner has had enough of me by now–to try it on, all by myself, and see if being alone will reduce the pressure enough so that I can see myself the way I’ve been led to believe I ought.

 

Shameless plug for a site that has really helped me not be totally freaked out by getting married: apracticalwedding.com. It’s sane advice about a crazy subject. Go look it up, it’s great.

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Once Upon a Terrible Show

3 Reasons Why “Once Upon a Time” is the Show I Love To Hate

I’ve been binge hate-watching “Once Upon a Time” since it came back on Netflix. The show makes me angry with practically every episode, but I can’t stop. I just watch more and yell at the TV.

You’d think I’d be the kind of viewer who would love this show. I LOVE fairy tales of all stripes, but particularly the original Grimm and Anderson tales. I can sing along with every word from 99% of all Disney movies (except “On the Range.” Nobody saw that one.) I even love retellings of fairy tales and classic stories–I watched ALL of “10th Kingdom” when it aired on TV, pushing my parents out of the way to make sure I saw that show every night. I did the same a few years later for “Tin Man.” No regrets.

On any given night, you might find me rewatching either a Disney/Pixar movie or the likes of “Ella Enchanted,” “Shrek,” “Enchanted” or “Ever After.” (So many enchantments!)

So it was with horror that I realized, in the first episode, that I hated “Once Upon a Time.” (I’m halfway through the third season as of this writing). But I know I’m going to watch the whole thing because I’m a sucker and I’m taking this train all the way to the end of the line.

What’s got me so mad? Here are the three reasons I hate “Once Upon a Time.”

1) It betrays the original concepts.

As I hope I’ve made clear, I LOVE re-imagined stories. They offer a new perspective on something we think we already know and love, and broaden our views of what “really” went on (one of my favorite books as a kid was “The Real Story of the Big Bad Wolf”!)

But the term “re-imagining” can only be loosely be applied to the characters in “Once…” It’s more like “creating a new character and giving them props people will recognize from the original.” It’s so disappointing. It doesn’t help that the ABC/Disney-created show wants to pull mainly from Disney stories, but also wants the darker edge of the originals. That means the source material is all over the place, creating a really awkward hodgepodge. A lot of the time, the backgrounds concocted for these characters are barely cogent. It’s actually getting a little better in the third season, but this mess makes it really difficult to keep track of any individual characters’ storyline. I feel like I’m constantly saying “wait, what happened? What’s going on?”

Beyond that, despite the many versions out there, there usually remains a kernel of the original story. There’s a universal tone, a charm found only in this kind of story. It’s usually uplifting, even if the main character has to die to find that purity (see: The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson) That tone feels like it’s completely missing in “Once…”

2) It tries to simultaneously make fairy tale worlds and the real world suck.

It’s a bad sign that I’m three seasons in and I still can’t figure out a) why any of the fairy tale folks wanted to leave their magical world or b) why the people of Storybrook would want to go back.

Let’s look at this carefully: There are two villains who apparently wanted to go to non-magic land. Though they both kept a way to use some of their magic, it was really limited. Furthermore, they both got massive demotions: Queen moves down to mayor (I guess it matters if it’s a strong mayor system or if there’s a city council…all the mayors I’ve known don’t really have that much power…) and super-magical Rumplestilskin becomes… a pawnbroker. Well that doesn’t make sense. I mean, I don’t watch “Pawn Stars,” but I get a sense that they aren’t among the 1%, if you know what I mean.

Plus, everything was going just dandily for about 28 years before the hero of the show popped up, so what were they doing for all that time that was SO MUCH BETTER than their lives as all-powerful magical folks would have been in magical-land?

Then I thought perhaps it was more about watching your enemies be humbled. Muhahahaa, the princess is reduced to… being a kindergarten teacher. And…she’s actually really kinda good at it? I mean, I guess she’s not with her magical prince or whatever, but that’s not a bad life, all things considered. She’s got a really cute apartment and stuff.

And then when Henry, ie. the most annoying and delusional kid ever, “discovers” that they’re all magical creatures and works to free them all… why would they want to go back? Now that they’re awake instead of regular-world zombies, they can get back with their beloveds! And now they can do what they want! They’ve sort of built nice lives for themselves in Storybrook. Would you want to go back to a place where someone is always trying to magically kill you? Plus now they get modern medicine, which is apparently more reliable than magical lakes.

If magical-land was as dramatic and messed up as the flashbacks make it out to be, why go back at all? Aside from kinda being trapped, Storybrook seems like a pretty nice place to live.*

*though I do wonder where their food and supplies come from. Do they get, like, a biweekly shipment from the outside world? Can I visit Storybrook? I’d like some of Grandma’s pie.

I’ll be a good mother if we just keep insisting the other woman is a bad one!

3) It has a twisted idea of family.

The other things are annoying, but this–this is the thing about “Once…” that really grinds my gears. It’s probably inevitable that a show based on Disney princesses would involve a lot of love stories, and I expected that. But that has morphed into this insane devotion to a very particular kind of “family,” to the sacrifice of literally everything else.

For example, in the first season, Henry claims his adoptive mother is the Evil Queen. That’s a pretty hurtful thing to say to someone, so I was waiting to see how that would be demonstrated. Regina was SO MEAN…she made him do his homework? And..baked him pies (using non-lethal apples). And… what exactly did she do to him that was so offensive and made her a bad mother?

Whereas Emma abandoned him as a baby (probably justifiably so, based on the allusions she makes to her past at the time) and yet she becomes the Heroic Mother very quickly. She, in comparison to Regina, doesn’t seem to care about things like school, doesn’t seem to know how to take care of herself, must less Henry, and, while perhaps a decent babysitter, isn’t really much of a mother. And she makes it very clear that she doesn’t really WANT to be his mother, repeatedly trying to drop him off at home! But the show forces her into the motherhood role, and before you know it, she’s acting crazy-protective of this kid she barely knows, storming up to Regina and saying things like “well, he’s MY son.”

Actually Emma, no, he’s not. You gave up custody a long while ago. Regina’s the mom here, you’re just some weird interloper.

Then we go to other familial relationships: Snow and Charming. It infuriates me that, with everything else going on, all Snow wants is a baby…and preferably a boy, because (of course!) they’re better. Sorry, Charming, you got stuck with a girl, oops! Wanting to protect her kingdom? Insufficient motivation. Wanting to save her beloved? Insufficient motivation. Revenge? Insufficient. She has to obsess over her kid.

This show is chock-full of examples like that. All the women (even Mulan! What a travesty!) are required to be motivated by a) wanting a man (if they aren’t yet married) and then b) taking care of their kid/having a kid.

A man, on the other hand, can enjoy kids, but really they are around to fight things. Philip sacrificing himself nonsensically and very quickly; Charming being incompetent at everything except swords; even Pinocchio as a kid went out of his way to fight things! It’s ridiculous.

And if you dare violate that standard? Something terrible is guaranteed to happen to you. For example, Rumple’ ‘s wife, who admittedly was a horrible wife and mother for a lot of reasons, didn’t deserve to be murdered. Regina dares to adopt a kid rather than having one of her own? Clearly she’s a bad mother and deserves to have her world ruined.

Rumple was denounced as a coward because he wouldn’t fight and would rather take care of his son; that breaks the rules, so his whole life is systematically dismantled.

I think “Once…” sends a horrible message, particularly to kids from non-nuclear families and kids who aren’t gender-conforming. Sure, girls, you can want to fight dragons, but only if you do it for your baby. Boys, grab your swords or be labeled a coward forever. It’s so disappointing, but the show seems to be popular.

Proponents of “Once…” speak up, tell me what you like about it. Please try to convince me I’m wrong, because I desperately want to like this show.

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A Journalism Major Who Doesn’t Subscribe

Newspapers have been in the news lately, not just writing it. The sale of The Washington Post to Jeff Bezos and the Boston Globe to John Henry made serious ripples–and well it should have. The reversion of newspapers to private hands is a big shift from the publicly traded past.

In the midst of all this hubbub, I have a confession: I majored in journalism in college and worked for three newspapers… but I’ve never had a newspaper subscription in my name. And I don’t plan to.

It feels a bit traitorous to admit that, but it’s true. Now don’t get me wrong: I loved, loved working for a newspaper. I don’t know if I’ll ever be so happy with my work as I was at a copydesk just before deadline. It’s exhilarating, intense, heady work. You know your tiniest mistake will be nitpicked by hundreds if not thousands of readers, but you also know you can maybe change minds. You can certainly inform, and entertain. It’s intoxicating, and there is nothing like it.

And if you ask me if its The End of Newspapers, I’ll tell you no, probably not, and I’ll really hope that’s true. I think the world, if not the United States, needs a thriving Fourth Estate. I think it’s very important, highly undervalued work. Those people work very very hard for very little pay–unless you’re a bigwig, you’re barely making ends meet. No, people get into journalism because they are hungry for it; it’s a passion. And it’s a passion that is increasingly derided and pooh-pooh’d, and that’s a damn shame.

I do think newspapers will stick around, but they’ll probably shed some if not all of the paper. And that’s as it should be, really, though the Guys On Top have been really loathe to admit that. And that’s part of the reason that most news organizations have been very slow to adapt to the electronic revolution.

My EIC was strikingly like J. Jonah Jameson, the EIC from Spiderman. My first week of work, he dumped me out of my chair for sitting cross-legged.

I saw it. That’s why I got out. I saw my bosses working 14-hour shifts, literally never getting to see their children because of their hours; I saw them storing up their sick leave for years so they could have a needed surgery without losing their salary during recovery, only to have management put in a new policy just before the schedule surgery, wiping out all unused sick leave–to “save money.”  The people on the ground are miles away (sometimes literally) from the people making the financial and organizational decisions.

I worked with THE website guy (yeah, there was only one), who had to maintain the website, learn all the coding, and try to contain the fires in the comments section (unsurprisingly, he often failed). There was no way he could get ahead of the curve for online; the bigwigs wouldn’t let him. They had only begrudgingly created a website, anyway, why would they actually bother to staff it? (Nevermind that the website was the only way our readers could find out what was going on in their homes after they had to evacuate for a hurricane; print still came first).

It was infuriating to me when–in our rather low-morale workplace–the editor-in-chief, a guy who reminded me of no one so much as J. Jonah Jamison from Spiderman, rounded up the staff and told us that although our paper was the highest-earning publication in the company, it wasn’t enough, so more corners were going to have to be cut. So they cut, cut, cut from the very heart of the publication, the parts that made people care, and learn, and desire, to keep the stakeholders–stock holders on Wall Street–happy, while our newsroom became ever more empty, ever more decrepit.

It would be poetic if I said I quit out of moral outrage for the industry, but that’s not true. I left because I was terribly alone, worked weird hours in a small town and couldn’t meet anybody friendly, and I couldn’t stand the idea of riding out another hurricane after I’d been without power for 2.5 weeks. It just didn’t seem worth working so incredibly hard for an industry that didn’t love me back.

So I said goodbye. I didn’t want to work at the newspaper in my hometown after it went through three waves of layoffs; I knew it wouldn’t matter how good I was the next time someone upstairs felt the margins weren’t profitable enough. What was the point of building a career when it could be taken from me at any moment? So I moved on.

And so far, that has also meant saying goodbye to subscribing; for one, I can’t afford it, a cruel irony for the newspaper publishers, who have lost advertising and so “must” raise subscription fees.

I wish Jeff Bezos and John Henry, and the staffs of the highly regarded Washington Post and Boston Globe, much luck, and good leads. I hope that private owners can maintain the respect for good journalism without giving into the merciless bottom line.

I’m sorry I can’t be with you on that journey.

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Where Are The Super-Moms?

Hollywood/Marvel/DC, I’ve got a beef with you guys.

See, I finally got around to seeing Man of Steel, a movie I’ve been looking forward to because Superman, duh. And it was a fun movie and a worthy inclusion in the Superman films.

And I noticed something.

Kal-El’s dad, Jor-El, is really important. He’s got big dreams for his son, and is willing to sacrifice himself to make those dreams happen. And Jor-El can’t be stopped from helping his son even in death, because he magically imported his unconscious into a memory stick (or something. I wasn’t really clear on the how of that part).

And Jonathan Kent, as ever, is hugely important. He’s full of practical, hard-knock advice for this son that fell from the heavens to be his boy. And he is willing to sacrifice himself to save the family dog and to protect Clark’s secret. It’s Jonathan’s death that could be said to motivate Clark/Superman/Kal-El to greatness and noble sense of duty.

Martha Kent is looking for any sign of a superhero movie mom who is really important, not just supportive. I think she’s going to be disappointed.

But CK’s two moms? Well, Lara-El (is that how you’d do her name?) quite nobly …pushed a button…to launch her son to Earth. And stood…nobly? …while politicians sentenced the bad guys to jail time. And then she…nobly?…died when her planet blew up.

Martha Kent is every bit as practical as her husband, but CK leaves her to go grow a beard and play on boats. And she’s very supportive, but doesn’t have a lot of advice. Her biggest moment is talking to Clark through a panic attack. And she does that from the other side of a door. She, um…knows the value of her family photo album? Has a natural mistrust for Lois Lane?

Lara’s subconscious couldn’t be imported into that memory stick? Did that not even occur to ol’ Jor-El, there? And what the hell, Martha, you didn’t even try to rescue your husband! You didn’t even seem all that upset when aliens blew up your barn! You didn’t even seem upset that your son wandered off without leaving an address for, apparently, years! I mean, running a farm alone must be hard work…couldn’t you use a strong back? Or company, at least?

In other words, Man of Steel has two moms that could potentially be really significant in Clark Kent’s life, and both, in the movie, are reduced to being complete background characters. I can’t think of a single action that either of them does that had any real effect on the movie.

And Supes has four parents, so he’s got double as many chances to have a meaningful and significant moment from his mother. Judging from the movie, though, all he gets from mom is clean laundry and cookies when he comes home after long trips.

Seriously? That’s sad. I mean, I got more from my mom than that. I learned all sorts of life lessons from my mom, and I’d guess most people have. So what is going on here?

The bad news? It’s not just Man of Steel. It’s not even just Superman.

Moms in Movies

Luckily, there have been a lot of really awesome superhero movies in the past decade. Surely we can find an awesome mom-character in one of them.

Okay, Spider-Man. Peter Parker doesn’t have a mom around, but he’s got Aunt May, arguably the nicest woman alive. But… it’s Uncle Ben who utters that incredible quote, “With great power comes great responsibility.” And it’s Uncle Ben’s death that spurs Peter to become Spider-Man. In the first movie, all Aunt May does is cook a mean Thanksgiving turkey and struggle to pay for her house. Oh, and get kidnapped.

She doesn’t even get a single genuinely important line.

She fares a little better in the next movie, Spider-Man 2, when she talks about why people need heroes, but …she doesn’t even know Peter is Spider-Man, so while this is a lovely moral statement, she doesn’t do much.

Batman: Everyone knows Batman’s parents die early on and it’s very sad and makes him want to fight crime his whole life. But do you even remember Batman’s mom in Batman Begins? I didn’t even remember her name, if that tells you anything. Martha Wayne has three lines in Batman Begins, and one of them is “Dear…”! Thomas Wayne is a doctor! He’s a philanthropist! He is a business man! He saves his son from a well and tells him not to be afraid of the bats, and that we fall to learn how to pick ourselves up!

Martha Wayne worries about nightmares and screams as she is shot by Joe Chill. *sigh*

Thor: I couldn’t even remember Freyja’s name. She doesn’t say anything, anyway.

Captain America: Sarah Rogers wasn’t in the movie. In comics, she died in Steve’s teens.

Fantastic Four: No parents.

Wolverine: No parents.

Iron Man: Maria Stark isn’t in the movie. Her husband, Howard, is very distant and yet still manages to be a major motivator for Tony.

X-Men: Okay, we’ve got a group film here, lots of potential. Magneto’s mom is ripped away from him during the Holocaust–I guess that makes her significant, but she’s not the instigator so I don’t think it counts. We don’t see Storm’s, Professor X’s, Wolverine’s, or Cyclops’ parents, so we can’t analyze them at all.

Rogue’s mom (Mystique) is in the movie, but considering she’s evil and abandoned Rogue at birth, I think we can leave her out.

Iceman’s got a mom, but neither of his parents do much other than send him away to school. No moms to speak of in X-Men.

Green Lantern: I had to look this one up, because, like the rest of America, I didn’t see this movie. But the internet tells me Janice Jordan has zero quotes in that movie, though there is at least an actress listed and she is named (unlike Rogue’s adopted parents, who don’t even get movie names).

That covers all the superhero films since 2000, and frankly, it’s getting depressing, so any further will have to wait. Besides, I think I’ve made my point.

What Do They Do?

The moms in these movies do share some characteristics, despite being overwhelmingly background characters. They don’t serve as the moral guidance that their husbands do, and they aren’t the ones who set the hero on his journey, but they do provide emotional “care packages” along the way–a reassuring word, a cookie, a hug after they’ve nearly been blown up by the bad guy.

These “care packages” have the potential to be important and significant, but for the most part, they are just the sort of throwaway comments that sound good but have very little impact.

These moms are universally patient and kind. And supportive, loving, and loyal to their (often dead) husbands. (Actually, that’s pretty sad, too–can no super-moms date after their husbands die?)

Those are indeed characteristics often assigned culturally–we expect “good moms” to kiss our boo-boos and ask us if we’ve found a nice boy/girl to date. But I find it odd that, in super-cinema at least, moms can’t be the moral tentpole–can’t even really have enough initiative to do something themselves at all, really.

Super Comics Moms

The thing is, Hollywood/Marvel/DC, you DO have great material to pull from if you want to make some legitimately super moms. You could start with Aunt May and Martha Kent, each who in TV shows and comics have managed to be incredibly significant to their sons.

I understand Diana Prince/Wonder Woman has a pretty awesome mom–probably expected in an Amazon society where she’s queen, but still–so you could go ahead and make that Wonder Woman movie already.

Hippolyta crafted Diana from clay. Despite being Queen, it’s good to know she has time for art.

And I consulted my SO, who has read a lot more comics than I have so far, and he says there are some other epic moms you could look into:

  • Steve Rogers/Captain America– In canon, he has an abusive dad. It’s his mom who teaches Steve Rogers to “get back up” after a fight. (In the movie, that moral moment was erased, and Steve gets back up just because.)
  • Genis-Vell/Captain Marvel-His mom’s a single parent, having impregnated herself with baby Marvel using her futuristic technology. (It’s comic canon, that stuff can be really weird, okay?)
  • Kyle Rayner/Green Lantern-His dad abandoned the family when his mom was pregnant, so he’s also the son of a single mom.

We Need Strong Moms

But maybe you’ll notice the problem with all the above moms in that “good mom” section: They’re all single parents. In that sense, it can be assumed that those moms have to pull double parent-duty–they didn’t get the strong mom stuff because they are inherently strong characters, they got it because there isn’t a dad around to do it. And that’s stupid.

While positive portrayals of single moms are really important and worthy of inclusion, there is a distinct dearth of strong-mom figures in a two-parent household. Either there’s no dad around to give our hero his “hero moment,” leaving it to mom, or mom is a supportive background character only. (Even Martha Kent and Aunt May fit into that analysis, as they both only really pick up the leadership slack after their husbands die).

That is a damn shame.

It’s bad enough that we can’t get a female superhero movie made: why can’t we have a super mom?

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Filed under Feminism, Uncategorized, writing

Zombie Bug-Out Bag

In my last post, I talked about the real-life preppers who kinda sorta maybe believe the zombie thing is real.

This guy probably doesn’t, but he provides a cute look at why the zombie apocalypse works as a good trope.

Also, he’s just sorta silly. And I approve of that.

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August 3, 2013 · 10:00 am