ladykatza

This year, I believe the revolution was televised. Mine is a generation that has seen the expansion of comunications go from the Daily News and Morning Television to tiny computers that fit our pocket. Computers that can send sound, images, and text almost instantly across the globe. Where the generation before would stage their protests in the hope that it would be filmed, or photographed and end up on the cover of Newsweek, ours can take the footage with a small handheld device and have it up on the internet, viewed by MILLIONS, in the matter of hours.

We missed the Industrial Revolution. Many of us watched The Cold War end and the Berlin Wall come down. I have a piece of that wall on my mantel. It was brought to me by our foreign exchange student, whom to this day, is still one of my closest and most dearest friends. But even still, there was a sense of fear in our government. An Old Guard that still remembered Pearl Harbor being bomded. That felt the cold chill of nuclear attack looming over them. A mentality that prevented an honest and open dialoug between countries different from ours.

Then there were those that came out of the Civil Rights and Anti-War movement of the Sixties. They looked toward D.C. with the idea that they could make things better. They could make things different. But the road was long and it was hard, because the Old Guard feared them too. Many were convinced to take the same stance, or the Old Guard’s progeny replaced them and perpetuated that fear.

But along comes a new generation. One that looks restless, aimless, and disinfranchised. A generation that has not known a Cold War because it has ended. Instead we see our parents who had accomplished so many things they set out to do, but once they accomplished those goals, what then? Well, we have Prosperity. We have Growth and Innovation. We have a technological revolution that was the breaking tide after landing on the moon. We consumed, but we felt empty.
To fill that emptiness, we turned toward new forms of communications. Phone, and then email, and then chat rooms, and then massive online communities that span the globe. We learned that there were things for which to fight. Innovations that haven’t worked as planned, such as agriculture, or energy, or ways of governance. But yet we floundered.

Almost every day I‘ve talk to peopl e from all over the globe. People who see the world differently. People that have a different type of government and yet still thrive and are happy. I’v talked to people who have witnessed immense atrocities in places like Africa and the Middle East. I talk to people who have seen terrible things here in our own country. We talked and discussed and have seen and thought of better ways to do things. But it was just talk, because we didn’t know where to start.

The Old Guard has accomplished many things, and Their Progeny have done more. Much of it was good, or with good intent. But after their goals were accomplished they floundered. They lost direction, and our generation floundered with them. But then, we started to Communicate. We became active, we started to think and discuss. We had information and each other at the touch of a button. We became The Age of Communication.

The only thing missing was inspiration. A good swift Kick in the Pants. Someone who saw this new communications as the tool needed to bring a aimless generation together. To make us step out and blink our eyes against the sunlight. To realize that action is required to make the communication worth something.

This year, my country did not elect a single person to fix all the problems. We elected a leader that inspires us out of apathy. A leader that has convinced not only our country that we can make a difference, but that this large, and shrinking, world can communicate to make a difference. We COMMUNICATED a revolution and the Old Guard and their Progeny have been found lacking.

They heard our message from the ivory tower.

We cannot look to one person and one government to solve the world’s problems. That has been put in our hands. We must look around and say “What do I want my world to look like in 100 years?”

And then, we must roll up our sleeves and get to work.

Under blue sky, in bright sunlight,
One need not search around.
Asking what Buddha is,
Is like hiding loot in one’s pocket and
declaring oneself innocent.
-Zen Koan

I took a walk to clear my head and,
came back with rain in my hair.
Sipping wine to warm my soul,
lightning illuminates the air.

I once sang this song while playing the Vampire LARP I met my husband at. I was really into the 40’s retro at the time. I was playing a Human Servant. And for some reason, I was singing this song in my dream last night and woke up with it in my head.

Your momma never told you
How you were sposed to treat a girl.
Your poppa never told you and
Now youre all alone out in the world.

Sirens are streaming
Inside the winding sheets are pale.
Devils are dreaming
Dreaming of the blue angel.

Now I lay me down to sleep
But troubled dreams are all I find.
Pray the lord my soul to keep
Pray so I wont lose my mind.

Sirens are screaming
On wings tonight, Ill soon set sail.
Devils are dreaming
Dreaming of a blue angel.

Your mommas going to take it hard
You always were your mommas boy.
Your laying in the graveyard
Now you’re not your mommas joy.

Streetlights come streaming
Ill bat an eye and cast my spell.
Devils are dreaming
Dreaming of a blue angel.

At the edge of darkness
I step into light
And in that moment
I
am
blinded.

I wanted to write more about my trip, but I couldn’t. Then another idea, but it wasn’t there either. Now I am cursing my wakefulness and my brain’s non co-operative state. My thoughts are scattered and have been for a while. I have been keeping myself constantly busy since Christmas. If I don’t give myself time to be idle, then I won’t think so much and maybe the melancholy will stay at bay. I have neglected some very important parts of my life. Not to mention a million project ideas that are just laying and gathering dust. Literally and virtually.

Tired, so tired. So much needs doing, so much overwhelming, so much… so. much. Any moment I take for myself seem selfish, but I know this is silly and not right. Intellectually anyway.

Its dark right now, the downstairs is empty and quiet and I can listen to my music. I think, what I would like, is a day alone. Just a day with a clean house and nothing i have to do and no one to bother me. A day where I can read, or sleep, or work on a project.

I think, tomorrow, I will go back to tango lessons for the first time in months and months. Despite all my lamentations, I have gotten more rest these past few days off then I have in a while. And I miss dancing. I find it relaxing.

I think I can sleep now.

What kind of fantasy works for you from the genre? If it helps, name some examples. - Treyvah

I had some difficulty parsing this particular request, but upon watching Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex, I had a bit of an epiphany. I am fascinated by science fiction/fantasy that deals with human spirit. So much of our science fiction talks about humans creating technology to be able to do bigger and better things. But as we artificially enhance the human form, what happens to that which makes us living and sentient?

“All stories are stories of enlightenment”. It was something that my friend dreama said. In this way, I’ve found that I admire greatly the works of C.S. Friedman. I think that she is a contemporary of William Gibson, in that their flavor of science is very much influenced by current trends of technology. Where Friedman branches off, and where she is most skilled, is she takes humans and puts them in a completely alien setting. Sometimes they don’t even remember, except in ancient lore, that they were once from a place called Earth. Every series she writes is a landscape of emotion and detail, landscapes alien yet eerily familiar. She turns left when you expect a right. She tears away the masks and shows just how terrifying human emotion can be, even with all the technology we use to shield us from it.

I am not hugely into cyberpunk in novel form, but works such as the Ghost in the Shell series, and other similar anime are enjoyable.

Another thing I look for in writing is characters. Knowing what character is speaking just by what and how they say things is the mark of good characterization. Having that solid foundation of personality, the character is then the one driving the story and the situation. To paraphrase Heinlein “I don’t write the book, I write the character, throw them in a situation and let them get themselves out of it”.

Hmm, does this explain what I enjoy? To a point, I guess. I like scifi that gets you involved the the character and the alien landscape upon which they are painted. Throw in a good bit of sexiness, and I’m set.

This says a lot about me, but when I want trash romance, I read Laurel K Hamilton’s books.

Ava’s request - Bravery

I will start with this one, as it was the most general.

For me, being brave is the ability to swallow that lump in your throat, ignore the knot in your stomach, roll up your sleeves and do what needs doing. Sometimes bravery comes out of a desperate need to change your situation. You don’t know what you want, but you can’t her _here_ anymore. So you go. Maybe you are brave enough to take the leap into something new without outside influence. That’s often the hardest thing of all. Many people never change until forced to. Its the rare and special few that see a need to change and do so. They brave the consequences of action, take the mistakes as they come, and keep going.

Bravery, for the sake of itself, can be foolish. Are you just trying to prove something? If so, then what? Then maybe its not bravery, but recklessness.

In your comment, post a topic for me to blog about and I’ll attempt to write something readable about it. Topic can be absolutely anything you want (good grief, I’ll regret this). In return, post this meme on your blog, too.

I post the above because of Babylon the Bride.

my lover, he is dangerous
there is a darkness behind his eyes
that frightens me.

its is nothing
compared to the mental perversity of my husband

Current Mood:  artistic

Current Music: Deep Dark Secrets-Jenny Dalton

I had that night’s game raid on my mind when I walked in the door but that changed when I walked in to find her sitting at the table with pig-tails and glasses sitting in front of a mountain of paperwork.

“Um.. hi hon,” now thinking about something else entirely.

“Oh, hi honey,” she said. She stood up and leaned over the table. She had my shirt tied up under her breasts, mostly unbuttoned and a red bra. She was wearing those short black shorts and knee high socks. I could tell she wasn’t wearing panties. I quickly moved to the table and she met me with a kiss and handed me a piece of paper. I stared at it stupidly.

“What’s this?”

“A list of chores you’ve been neglecting for that game.” I looked up and stuttered some excuse. She gave me that mischievous grin and now the press against my zipper had become uncomfortable.

“I suggest you get to them now or you’re gonna be standing on the sidelines while I have fun with my battery operated friends tonight.” My eyes went wide, I wanted her then. She pointed to the paper.

I mowed the lawn with eager anticipation.

182

Current Mood:  moody

Current Music: Legion- VnV Nation

This is from a thread on a message board I frequent. You must write 200 words or less from the perspective of the opposite gender. Here is what I submitted.

The knock came about 9pm. You’re nervous, not knowing how comfortable you were going to a goth club with her. You open the door and she’s wearing a black wool trench and all you can see are the black knee high lace-up boots. The boots do you in.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yes”, you answer,suddenly wondering what’s under the trench. She’s driving a manual with great authority and as she does her trench comes open and a hint of black stockings and peak of garter come through. There’s a push against your zipper and an uncomfortable shift. Once at the club she takes off her trench to reveal a short skirt and a long but low cut shirt. She glitters as she walks onto the dancefloor. You’re need mounts as her hips start moving to the beat and a red halo of hair lights up with each passing of flood lights. Soon every inch of her body find a different beat and the skirt flits up to reveal the full of garters and ruffled red panties. The ache tells you that the “Lets Just Be Friends” speech may have not been the best of ideas.

Current Mood:  creative

Nine out of TEN criminals ate bread within 24 hours of commiting a crime?

BAN BREAD!

Current Mood:  devious

Quote #1

“Bush admits owning stock in coffin and flag companies, deploys more troops.”

Quote #2

Embassy warz score so far:

America = Got some computers from a minor outpost. Probably netted some personal mail and Hamaad’s saved Starcraft games.

Iran sympathyzers = killed a toilet.

They just don’t violate sovereignty like they used to.

Current Mood: laughing

i and my living room look like i’ve just murdered a purple polyester poodle.

say that 10 times really fast

Current Mood:  creative

*warning: contains language that may be considered offensive to some people*

or to quote neil gaiman: Warning, Contains Language!

so at some point, i remember the group of people that i sat with at highschool getting a hold of a book of Georgia laws. most of them were ones that were very outdated. being that we were highschool students, the first section we flip to is the section on “sex”. of course.

so… as we are reading we find out that oral sex is a felony. a FELONY? WTF? (by the way, this is before WTF was invented, k?) this caused us to go into a long discusion on HOW someone is going to know that you were going down on your significant other. the sex police? oh, ya, vouyerism is a misdemeanor. in fact… necrophilia, public ludity, and beastiality are also all misdemeanors. my boyfriend at the time had this to say:

“wait a minute here.. are you telling me that i could fuck a dead donkey on the court house stairs and the maximum sentance is 10 years, but going down on my wife i get 10 to life?!”

Oh yes, and when parking your car at the Capitol in Georgia, don’t forget to tie it up to the provided hitching stations. its the law! (or at least it used to be)

Current Mood:  nostalgic

how strange the world of friendship and lovers
the twists and turns of intertwining realities

so many pauses between their meetings
so many times their paths have split

friendship fills a silent space
with an intangible moment of solace

old lovers meet at the crossroads
only to move on with solemn grace

i’m one of the lucky ones in the world of the cube farm. my desk is next to several very large windows. most of the time the blinds are closed to keep the sun from glaring across my computer screens. but one stays open most times now that the person that was most affected by it has moved on. i get to watch the reflection of the clouds drifting by in the mirrored glass of the buildings across the way and the sun set in the evening.

i have always loved the sunshine, although my fair complection has usually prevented me from enjoying it for long periods of time. my side of the bed is next to the large window, and in the afternoon i love to lay in the sunshine and watch quietly as the birds enjoy the birdbath in my herb garden. its calming and peaceful.

the worst of my melencholy has passed, and things aren’t as bleak as my mind wanted to make them out. i’ll blame it on hormones this time. watching the thunderstorm rage through with all its fury seems to have taken some of my feelings with it.

on rain spattered windows
a false moon glints
streetlights though treetops
i no longer lament

what cause this disturbance
of fury and rage
there is no explanation
my life turns a page

Current Mood: calmer

Current Music: the glory of god is within you -kama sutra: a love story soundtrack

morning dawns over a burnished sky
shadows that were never chased away
lurk in the alley of listlessness
washed by a drizzling spray

sadness lives between skyscrapers
hopes glimpsed through cracks in the grey
revalations gained in reflective windows
to be on the other side, predator not prey

Current Mood:  bored

Current Music: All Neon Like - Bjork

the following is something that i wrote for a character at AIT

it has been three long years since my beloved left me. three years of my life that have crawled by. i’ve filled my days with research; consoling myself with dusty tomes, microfilm and the hum of computers. my master sends me orders in an almost absentminded fashion. three years must seem like a blink when one is immortal. to the young and short-lived, it is an eternity. and an eternity twice again when pining for lost love, a love that only once acknowledged your existence.

i am a pawn, a resource wrapped up in an attractive package. i can research anything, find the smallest detail, link together great conspiracies. i have brought down many, letting others take the credit. i look good on your arm, quiet and docile.

i was a gift to my beloved, to pay a debt as a show of good faith. they turned on him, he was too big… too powerful and they drove him away.
i was forgotten by Bron Giovoni and now i have only my master, Simon St. Croix.

i am Anita, the Unseen

traffic on the highway, people swerving and throwing frisbees. i couldn’t understand why until i saw a large jack russell terrior bounding over the treetops, yes, treetops. it was a LARGE dog, and hyper. people were distracting it so they could get by. i had a daecon in the car with me, we were trying to get to a filming locations, the only one in atlanta, so he could talk to the director about a job running the electronics. but when we got there it wasn’t daecon anymore. i’m not sure who it was. at first they thought we were trying to get an acting job and treated us with disdain. when the director, obviously a flamer, found out what it was we really wanted, we were ushered off to the “techies” and the not-daecon-male then promptly dissapeared and i was alone with a lecherous joss whedon type. eh?

i am my new character at AIT. no more pretend, we are the real thing. we’re in an underground building with natural rock and stone giving it an cavernous feeling. gas lights illuminate the interior. there is an argument going on about what to do for some inconsequential thing. i am at the top of the stairs and i don’t walk down, i glide. i glide several inches above the ground. everyone stares. things have faded to the back as dreams do, but i remember levatating higher and higher until i float above everyone. i bare my fangs at displeasure of the company and they leave…

Intersections in time, crossroads of space
moments of reflection upon a breathless waste.
dance a tango on stardust clouds
venus and mars through ages confound,
spinning through nebulus emotion.

left, right, foward, apart
dancing a tango of complicated hearts.
reconcile lost in star-crossed love,
in a battle of wills ,the universe shoves.

-elizabeth w schartok