That was not science fiction

I just don't like when the back cover lies. Would you like it if the back cover lied to you???

Look, I really hate doling out bad reviews. Really. I want to be an author myself, and seeing my book described as shitty is not a thing that I would want. But I don't want to lie to my readers either. Geez, how hard is to write a blurb that doesn't lie?

The back cover of Germline reads as follows:

GERMLINE (n.) a secret military program to develop genetically engineered super-soldiers (slang). 

War is Oscar Wendell's ticket to greatness. A reporter for the Stars and Stripes, he has a pass to the front lines of a brutal conflict over natural resources, where genetics - the germline soldiers - battle heavily armed troops deep beneath the icy, mineral-rich mountains of Kazakhstan.

But the front is nothing like Oscar imagined. The genetic soldiers are more human than he'd bargained for too. Hooked on a dangerous cocktail of drugs and adrenaline, lines are beginning to blur. And if Oscar doesn't find a way out of the chaos soon, he may never get back.

Well, okay. Maybe it didn't quite lie. But it was certainly really misleading. When I bought this book, in the science fiction section, I was expecting the titular and frequently mentioned "genetically engineered supersoldiers" to be the main focus of the book. Let's face it, genetically engineered supersoldiers are really cool. One of my first personal ideas for a scifi novel involved exactly this. (I put it on ice because I was 14 years old and didn't know anything about advanced bioengineering.) And, well, here's another confession: I originally wanted to buy the sequel to this book, which was from the perspective of one of the supersoldiers. But when I saw that it was Book 2, I figured I might as well read Book 1 first.

Now, though, I don't really feel like giving the second book a chance.

The genetic soldiers (or "Gs") are, in fact, relegated to a very small space in Germline. Despite the book's being named after them, they only make brief cameos here and there. And when they do ...

Fun fact: All the Gs are women. At first, I though that was the coolest thing ever. So they are badass genetically-enhanced killing machine ladies? This is not some kind of repressed radical-feminist wish of mine to see males annihilated, no worries. It just felt new! The ideal supersoldier would be a male in his early twenties, but the book implies (implies, but does not elaborate on) that there were complications in manufacturing that made this impossible. So instead they made them female. Which is ... I dunno, some people might draw parallels to the buying and selling of women, but I just thought it felt refreshing and kind of awesome. Until, of course, I realized that women are far too seldom put in a story for the sake of being a great character or part of a thought-provoking concept. The reason you put women in a story, instead of straight men, the one function women can serve that straight men can't, is SEX.

Early on, the main character - junkie reporter Oscar "Scout" Wendell - starts thinking that it's kind of sexy that these supersoldiers look just like regular (hot!!!) girls, even though they have the power to rip his head off. (They're sexy even though they're bald! Wow, how nice of you to disprove the artificially engineered murder machines' feelings of physical unworthiness.) Then, for some mystical reason, they all start taking a liking to him. (They have names; I don't really understand why. If I was their manufacturer I would just give them serial numbers.) One of them falls in love with him and wants him to bone her so that she can explore her truly human feelings. Yeah, the extent of their possible discontent with being artificial soldiers is that they want to find love. Since the Gs' term of service is short (they kill them at eighteen; ooh, creepy pedo vibes!), his girlfriend is eventually terminated. All the Gs are identical, so every time they appear after this, their only purpose (aside from the contextualization of being sent into battle here or there) is to remind Scout of his lost love. Her face, staring at him everywhere. 


Last confession: I never finished Germline. Aside from this blatant conversion of the deadly soldiers (who happen to have vaginas) into a fetish, the rest of the book is really just a war story starring a guy with a drug problem. That was not what I signed up for.


I did page ahead a little, though. Later on, Scout meets another G, with the same face but a different name from his lost lady. She's in love with him too. Surprise. Paged a little further ahead. They escape the war ... get married ... and have kids.


What.

Let's ask ourselves if fertility was a thing the supersoldiers needed? Dear Mr. Author, here's a newsflash for you: I really don't think a bunch of women on their periods are the ideal fighters. So if you were engineering them, wouldn't you, you know ... remove that function? I know I would.


I cannot get over how stupid this is. Why would you include platoons of genetically modified killing machines at all, if you're hardly going to mention their relevance beyond acting as fapping material for the main character? Why would the people who designed them not get rid of their sexual urges, or their ability to reproduce? All this does is establish them as romantic interests for the main character, and that isn't believable. The book does not go into any detail about the science behind the Gs, either, or if it does in the 100 pages I did not read, it would've been a pop-out surprise. Newsflash #2: a book is not science fiction just because it happens to take place in the future! There has to be some science involved!


And I didn't really care about what else was going on in the novel, because war stories without science fiction elements are not my thing at all. 


I would recommend Germline to you if you'd like to read a story about a man, ripped apart by drugs, and his awful experiences in a terrible war. With the occasional bonus of hot killer ladysoldiers. I would not recommend it to you if you, like me, were looking for a story about the ramifications of experimental technology and the transformation of human beings into weapons. Because despite what the cover implies, it's not about that. And although the sequel, Exogene, is told from the perspective of a G, I don't feel I can trust an author who so obviously fetishizes them in his first novel. Sorry, bro. It ain't working out.




This has been a review no one cares about but if you've no essays to write me about how ridiculous it is to make this awesome badass concept into fapping fuel maybe you can tell me about something you were disappointed in idk

In which I get my knickers in a twist over personal values

I plan on going far in life.

My strategy so far has been a combination of a few different things, mainly:

• The determination to go the extra mile
• The self-awareness to realize when you've gotten there
• The humility to understand that you can always go further

LISTEN WELL, YE FAITHFUL

These are the principles I live and work by, and I have the deepest respect for anyone else who shares them, or whose decision-making shows proof of their presence. I don't instantly despise anyone who doesn't, of course. But I do have a tendency to get peeved.

Not fulfilling #1 basically means you're a lackluster person, and I'm that way myself if it's something I don't care about. I might get pissed off if you're supposed to help me on equal footing with something I'm enthusiastic about but you don't; however, in some cases I can work hard enough for two and pull the whole load. So this one's usually chill.

As for #2, what happens when this one is neglected is usually that somebody who's really good at say, writing or drawing or whatever, continually insists that they're terrible at it. In other words, throwing a whiny bitch fit which is easily ignored. Just don't feed the animals.

But fail to fulfill #3 and you can guarantee yourself (or at least a part of yourself) a spot on my black list. WATCH IT.

What this entails is that the person in question reached rung 2 and knows that they have talent and the ability to succeed. However, they've failed to realize that just because they're good at something, that does not make them the Einstein or Michelangelo of their field, god fucking dammit!!!

I tend to notice this sense of over-accomplishment in fields that I know I'm good at, namely, a) the English language, and b) writing fiction. Let me elaborate. And then rage a little.

• It seems you're not a native speaker of English. And yet, you're really awesome at it! Kudos to you! The only foreign language I'm halfway decent at is German, and I can't really communicate for shit. I admire you for getting this far! But wait - what's that? Did you just claim your English is perfect? Just a minute - are you acting as if you're a native yourself? But ... but you mispronounce words all the time! Your grammar is faulty! You have a heavy accent! You're excellent at this language, but by no means as fluent as someone who's had it hardwired to their brain ever since they learned to talk! If you don't deal with that fact, how are you ever going to get better? Iron out those flaws? That's right - you aren't! So FUCK YOU.

FUCK YOU

• It seems you're writing a story. That's great! I love writing too! Can I read it? Thanks! Well, overall it's an awesome piece of work, but I've got some critique. You've got some basic structural errors here and I think your main character's a bit too perfe--wait, what? Nobody else has given you negative critique? But how is that relevant? I'm a reader, and I have an opinion on your work; you can't just shoot me down like th--wait a sec, what's this I see? You're going around telling everybody that you're going to get this published? You're referring to yourself as if you're an accomplished author? But ... but you can't even handle critique from a fellow aspirant! Has an editor taken a look at this? Have you asked for honest opinions from people who know better than you, to try to develop your style? You're excellent at this, but you've got so much room for improvement! If you don't deal with that fact, how are you ever going to get better? Iron out those flaws? That's right - YOU MOTHERFUCKING AREN'T, so stop acting like the best thing since Stephen King. Seriously.

RANT DONE. FOR NOW.

The lull that made me a responsible citizen

I suppose my absence has been duly noted.

The A-Z challenge was part of it. I'm just not good at sticking to structure, it kills the Mind of the Artiste, bohemic bullshit etc etc. So from here on out the letters with which I start my posts will be completely random.

What's more, way back when (in May), I was going into the final stretch of TONS OF SCHOOLWORK. That's over and done with now. (It went well.)

And then I started working. That's right - no one can ever tell me I haven't worked a day in my life anymore. In fact, I've worked for approximately 2 weeks! The job is one of the least glamorous I can think of - my neighbor set me up at her job, which is some sort of packaging facility for various dental products. This includes hands-on working with a LOT of plastic: I swear it's changing my genetic makeup. Most of the other tasks can be boiled down to simple button pressing. Well ... somebody has to do it. The main thing I've learned from this job is that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure I don't end up at one like it for the duration of my life. Everyone working there is very kind, though, and there's unlimited free hot chocolate, and (sadly, limited) free cookies. And the pay's fine and dandy; I believe I get paid more than the average young person, and all I do is push buttons eight hours a day.

Said pay will be dumped into my bank account on the same day I leave for a convention, at which I'll also be working: more precisely, four-hour shifts in the cafeteria. I have no experience with registers whatsoever, and two of my five shifts are from four to eight in the morning. Aka the worst possible time, smack in the middle of the sleeping cycle. I'll have to sleep in shifts as well!

At least this will improve my CV???

Well, I sense approximately twenty days of down time during which I may or may not blog a bit. NO PROMISES.

New Old Spice Guy Fabio

It is not my purpose today to endorse the sales of products claiming to emulate the enhancement of one's testosterone levels to the olfactory organs.

It is not my purpose to talk about hair, advertisements, or romance novel covers, although each of these things will play a role in my message.

My purpose, friends, is to introduce to you a man whom I admire.

A man whose glorious locks ripple in the winds formed by the pining sighs of ten thousand lovesick angels.

A man whose glistening oiled pecs refract the light of ultraviolet rainbows and the infrared glow of unanimously beating hearts.

A man whose smile, along with the twinkle in his eye, would bring the cruelest to penance, the mad to enlightenment, and the lost, lonely, and lacking souls populating our world to ultimate spiritual bliss.

A man whose ability to laugh at himself is the most hilarious thing I have ever - pray help me - ever fuckin' seen.

This man, friends, is Fabio Lanzoni.

Holy fuckin' shit.

he'sa genius hahahahahahaaaaaaaaaahjdslff

Magic

Wow, sorry again for the late posting; I suppose I haven't really been on edge. Ugh, I have got to finish the A-Z thing so that I can make a random post if I feel like it.

In honor of May Day, I am going to tell you all about another odd collection of mine. My mother and I were discussing the origins of the Swedish Walpurgis traditions (BIGASS BONFIRE LET'S GET SMAAAASHED), and hoping to answer some questions I went and dug out a few tomes from the large selection in my room. After looking at Wicca, Wicca Craft, Witch School and Buckland's Complete Book of Witchcraft (although this last one turned out to be a lot more anal and less informative than the others), we had learned a little bit more about Pagan Beltane festivities. Yup.

The thing that's a bit odd here is that all these books date back to when I was between ten and twelve years old. I was always precocious in regards to literature, but I was also, as a fundamentalist would say, a devilchild of the highest degree. (I also have books about Egyptian magic, moon divination, herb properties, Chinese horoscopes ... all acquired before the unlucky age of 12,89.) I know loads about this stuff. I really mean loads. I read reference books about earth religions from cover to cover, multiple times.

and this was my desktop a LOT of times

My mother's family, despite their Catholic origins, have always been very open to the spiritual, and so I was raised by a pack of crazy crones exposed to these sorts of things early. I suppose I enjoyed the thought of the Other, the esoteric, and the ritual - things that make the drab Real World a bit more fun. I'm also a compulsive systemizer, so the belief in the power of the four elements and all their affiliated symbols (seasons, compass points, gemstones, planets, zodiac signs...) was a great resource for categorization of the world. Mumbo jumbo hocus pocus things (as the uninitiated may say) are also fond of foreign writing systems, be it runic, ogham, or Chinese, and so for an eternally budding linguistics/mythology enthusiast like myself, that shit was irresistible.

There used to be a fantastic little shop nearby my house. The shop was called Tre häxor (literally Three Witches), and had I really been a chosen one, it would have been the place where my supergroup would gather and be coached in the secret arts by the magical elderly lady who ran it. Tre häxor sold overpriced essential oils, gemstones, incense, and books about light healing, but dang there was some cool stuff in there. (Crystal balls! Dragons! Tarot decks!) I loved that store. I loved the clerk lady. She probably loved me too, or at least my frequent monetary donations to her business. She retired many years ago. The last time I saw her was at some sort of girls' fair in my municipality, where she sold off as many of her wares as she could. She gave me and my friend (who I dragged down with me, and who loved the store equally) each a big hug and a hematite ring. BEING FRIENDS WITH SALESPEOPLE GETS YOU FREE STUFF.

My hematite ring cracked down the middle not long afterwards when I dropped it in the sink in a fit of stupidity. I am choosing to believe that this was because it had fulfilled its purpose and not because of any explanation that makes some sort of sense. I saved the halves in one of my weird little boxes.

And now, what you've all been waiting for: PICTURE TIME.

This is the outside of Sophia's closet 

This is the inside.

It's not too visible with this shitty no-effort nonquality, but that big dark spot on the lower shelf is actually a trio of removed scalps that I wear on my head sometimes when I impersonate people.

And here is a close-up. The light is terrible because I can't be arsed to go get an actual camera, but allow me to clarify. You can see a variety of phials and some incense in the back. That yellow thing is a Tarot deck. Among all those black spots is a quite lovely scrying bowl and a bag of home-made divination rocks made by a preteen past self after the instruction of a book called "Moon Magic for the Modern Woman" (they were actually quite accurate). The copper glint is a teeny-tiny absolutely adorable cauldron my paternal grandma gave me, and the green thing in the front is an ocarina, aka the smallest piece of shit I ever spent too much fuckin' money on. There are two small boxes in the back stuffed with exotic curios.

Now that I have clarified things you should have been able to see had I taken a proper picture, I can summarize what happens next.

I slam my closet door shut and all my imaginary love interests slowly back away.

No, jests aside I'm sure you all think my extensive knowledge and material wealth in this subject is pretty great.

unless any one of you is a closet Christian fundamentalist

please don't burn me

Late Post

This is the sort of thing that's not supposed to happen.

I guess it conveniently solved my lack of a post for the letter L, though.

The deficit in posts can be attributed to a lot of school stuff going on. I am looking forward to a month and a half of Important Tests. I don't really have anything to say today, but I suppose this L post can mark a sort of milestone and then let the Better Posts continue. I will do my best to keep posting every other day, but I may neglect the blog in favor of my life, sorry (OOOO BURN). I will also try to get around to commenting on you guys' blogs once I am done with all of this; I am presenting my last big Natural Science assignment tomorrow (conveniently without any preparation, whoops), so once that is off my back there will only be 8 million tests left to do. We'll have to see how this goes.

In other news, I suppose I could sum up a bit of interesting trivia about said Life I mentioned.

• I am currently drinking cold tea. I was off gallivanting and forgot about the poor sod, but just dumping it out would be wasteful. Cold caffeinated tea before bed? Great plan, Sophia, great plan.
• I might have bought 3 new books today despite the fact that I already have somewhere around 8 new books yet to be read.
• Today's Bigass Test was one that I almost failed last year, or rather the corresponding one for the grade below. It's a writing test, and despite the fact that the writing itself was flawless, I assumed the graders could read between the lines. This was a stupid thing to assume. (It went better this time around. I think.)
• I always forget the genius things I plan to write here.
• I am probably going to need to fabricate a Personal Training Plan for P.E. It's not fair of the teachers to only give us one chance to reach a certain grading criteria, but if this turns out to be it, I will just have to tell myself that the effort put into faking a record of a two-month training program is less than actually doing a two-month training program.
• I've finished watching ATLA and have begun watching the first season of Supernatural upon recommendation. It has a lot of flaws. Luckily Jensen Ackles' face has none. This almost makes up for it.
• yeah I keep fucking forgetting

Have a great day!

nOPe

Knowledge

To me, knowledge is the most important thing in the world. I have loved reading and learning since I was very young, always excelled in school, and was always labeled the "smart kid," more or less. My dream is to go to a world-class university and get a doctorate from there. It would be the ultimate achievement.

I believe all knowledge is good knowledge. It is never bad or unnecessary to know or learn about a certain thing (although, of course, this does not excuse boring lessons or unprofessional teachers). However, sometimes I wonder what place being an academic and having most of one's skill focused on the intellectual actually has in the world. For someone like me, whose talents lie in schooling, it's fortunate that today's society values that sort of thing. But what would happen if, say, the zombies attacked, or a meteorite struck the earth? Nobody would care about linguistics or history or politics then. Those things would come later. Isn't it really more important to be able to survive in the wild, build houses, or know how to fight? And even today, aren't charity workers and doctors better, and more important, than book critics and anthropology professors?

On the one hand, I have to face the fact that pursuing this sort of future is selfish, not really helping anyone but myself. But on the other, there is nothing I would rather do.

Just... One... More... Ep...

So, as some of you may know, I am currently watching Avatar: The Last Airbender. Some of you may have seen it when you were kids. I never watched it and have been told I missed out, so here I am now. ATLA is an American children's show with heavy anime influences, set in an Asian-inspired world. Its plot is pretty much summed up by the intro, as told by the character Katara:

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them; but when the world needed him most, he vanished. A hundred years passed and my brother and I discovered the new Avatar: an airbender named Aang. And although his airbending skills are great, he has a lot to learn before he’s ready to save anyone. But I believe Aang can save the world.

Yup. Chosen one has to save the world. With his elemental powers. That are better than anybody else's. It's great. Even though ATLA's target audience is considerably younger than I am, the show is still readily accessible and entertaining to people who are older. Sometimes there's a monster of the week or a bit of drama that seems simplistic and childish, but this is more than made up for by the fantastic cast of characters. Pretty much all the main and recurring cast are well-rounded and believably flawed, traits that culminate in "lovable." Aang, the main character, could easily have become a generically kind kid for the audience to identify with, but he's as developed and interesting as any of the others, coming across as very human and real. And in the second season, the gender balance and variety of personalities and abilities within the cast is absolutely brilliant. It's rare to find a show where so much actual work has gone into creating the characters and their world.

Speaking of the world, it is equally great. As I mentioned, the Four Nations are all stylistically derived from East Asia, reminiscent of ancient China and Japan. The result is gorgeous aesthetics all over. The "bending," or physical manipulation, of the four elements is an accepted art here, and the fighting sequences are full of martial arts moves and awesome, "magical" elemental attacks. There is also a wide menagerie of strange and splendid hybrid beasts, such as turtle ducks, ostrich horses, and saber-toothed moose lions. Most prominent among these is Aang's oldest companion, Appa the flying bison. He is my favorite character, by the way.

At the time of writing, I am almost done with the second season (or "Book 2," as it's called in the show's vernacular), and am really enjoying myself. For anybody who's not averse to watching a "kids' show," I can really recommend it. Although it's so easy to watch that at times it's hard to stop. Just... one more, then I'll go to bed. Promise.

*presses play*

Investment

Remember my mug collection, and how I promised it wasn't the last? Well, here's a second demonstration of something I hamster obsessively.

I adore television series. There are few things more fun than getting to know a cast of characters and follow their adventures in one installment after another. It might be partly hereditary, since I have a collection of aunts who have been watching the same soap operas for decades and discuss the characters as if they were people they knew. (Now that I think about it, they're just like me. Minus the decades part.) But whatever the reason, I know that it's great.

In my humble opinion, TV series > movies. Sure, films can be great, but they're so limited by their running time, and you just don't get immersed into the world in the same way as you do when you follow something over a longer period.

The only thing better than watching shows on TV is owning them on DVD. Not only because this induces a fantastic feeling of closure, but because it's great to have them there, tangible, waiting... Oh, and cliffhangers become a nonissue.

I enjoy DVD boxes so much that I even consider buying shows I don't even really like, just for the fun of the experience. Also, as long as something isn't absolutely horrendous, I can seriously consider watching it just to be able to discuss it.

Here is a list of the series I currently own on DVD:

• Dollhouse, seasons 1 and 2. The jewel of my collection. Precious, precious jewel.
• Buffy the Vampire Slayer, seasons 1-4. I never finished watching season 4 because Buffy is one of those shows that I don't actually like very much? I really need to write a post about this someday, I wonder if I can fit 'er into one of the letters.
• Merlin, seasons 1-3. I need to write a post about Merlin too and explain why season 3 blew.
• Six Feet Under, seasons 1-5. This one also kind of devolved???
• LOST, seasons 1-6. WOW I CAN WRITE WHOLE POSTS ABOUT ALL OF THESE, MAYBE I SHOULD
• Game of Thrones, season 1. This is the newest addition.

...Really? Now that it's lined up like that, it doesn't look like much at all. That makes me very sad. I need more variety, pronto.

To put this post into perspective, I built a tower out of my DVD boxes and lay down behind it. This is what I do when I have free time.

Hugs

Personally, I love hugs. I love leaning on people and I love cuddling with them (especially since my body temperature is usually very chilly, so they make excellent radiators).

However, it must be explicitly stated that hugging, leaning on, or even touching people has to be mutually okay. Now, we're not getting into molestation territory here (mutual molestation??? whoa this is getting all NSFW up in here) - just basic acknowledgement of personal space.

Don't be a Voldemort.

I, for one, even though I like having physical contact, cannot stand when people I do not know and do not want to be close to get in my face. Being an attentive listener does not mean channeling their words into your spirit by permanently keeping your hand up their butt. Nodding along, tapping someone on the shoulder, and making affirmative sounds will do. You do not have to touch me. You do not have to rest your hand tenderly upon my waist whilst gazing into my eyes as though they were the most enticing of woodland pools. I'm OK with you not doing that. Seriously. It's cool.

(In less facetious terms, people who insist on keeping physical contact throughout a conversation kinda give me the heebie-jeebies.)

Another thing I despise is when people slip their arm through mine. To me, walking armsie in armsie with another chick feels kind of like being chained to a massive morningstar-style prison ball by heavy indestructible links. That, or as if they're urinating on me. I am not your territory. I want to be able to drift away without needing to wrest my arm free first. Since I'm so uncomfortable with this gesture, I usually kindly tell people this, and they'll let go. But some people just don't get it. One time I escaped from an arm link only to feel the same arm wrap constrictingly around my shoulders. Flesh status = crawling.

Point: Hugs and touching is great and cozy and fantabulously fuzzy ... if the other person is OK with it. If you aren't certain they are ... don't touch them. At least not if that person is me.

Games I like: Deus Ex: Human Revolution

IN A NOT SO DISTANT FUTURE ... EVERYTHING IS TOTALLY FUCKED.

Yeah, yeah. We've seen it before. In 2027, humans are able to upgrade themselves with mechanical augmentations. Multinational corporations are more powerful than governments. Science is flourishing like never before. Something, somewhere, has to go wrong.

And this here guy's here to fix it.

Scientists, of course, have dubious morals. On the flipside, the people who claim to be on the side of justice blow stuff up. Adam Jensen, head of security for the biotech firm Sarif Industries, experiences both things firsthand when he is caught in the crosshairs of a brutal terrorist attack on the company's HQ. His wounds would have killed him, had not Jensen's employer put him back together. He wakes up from surgery to find large parts of his body replaced by cutting-edge prostheses. More machine than man, Jensen is now a supersoldier, a living weapon ... and as he sets off to track down the people behind the assault on his corporation, he picks up on the trail of something much bigger. Something that encompasses the entire world.

Facial Recognition

I have a very good memory. Well, not when it comes to that household chore that I mysteriously never finished, but in many other situations. I think of it as being semi-photographic - I can't recall everything I've seen in minute detail, but words and patterns just stick in my mind. This has proven very useful in learning foreign writing systems, and many a last-minute cramming before a test.

It also means that I remember people's faces. I would recognize somebody I've seen around school in another situation. If I'm introduced to someone, it's a basic courtesy (in my book) to memorize their name and match it to their face. Useful as this may seem - because so many people claim to have no memory whatsoever for names and faces - it's created a lot of awkward moments. I might remember somebody's name, where we met, and any details about themselves they may have let slip ... but they have no recollection of me. At all. Oops.

Some people appreciate being remembered, while others are completely weirded out. People with unusual names in particular are relieved when somebody gets 'em right (this includes me; up here, Sophia is almost exclusively spelled with an f, so anyone who even asks about the ph has my instant respect), while people with large, active social lives might not process every acquaintance they bump into. Which is fine, I get that! It's just a bit ... iffy. Especially if the person in question is somebody you hoped to get to know. Ah well.

Anyway, this has led to me pretending to be more forgetful than I am. I will go "Oh, right, you were ... um ... this person from that place, right? :D" and wait for affirmation, when really I am not hesitant at all and could rattle off their name, their interests and how many cats they have.

At least the internet tells me I'm not alone.

A side note: Mysteriously, my face-recognition abilities don't seem to apply to recorded material, as I can never keep track of who is who in films.

Enhancements and Ethics

As you may have guessed from a cursory glance at my blog title, I like cyborgs. They are really cool.

Of course, cyborg (cybernetic organism) refers to a being that is part organic and part robot/machine, as opposed to being fully artificial. I am sick to the bone of the science fiction trope "DOES THE ROBOT FEEL???" and much prefer the closer-to-home question of how much machine a man can be and still be considered a man.

With cyberpunk, my favorite genre, proclaimed "dead" while it is in many ways flourishing and alive in our daily encounters, questions of how much technological betterment humanity can afford are very relevant - or will be in the near future. Do we DNA-screen our babies, give amputees bionic limbs, perform surgical procedures for the smallest of quirks, transfer Facebook from computer to eyelid? How much of it would help us, how much would ultimately hurt us, how much would be used and then abused by government, military, organized crime? What reactions would we see, and who would the extremists be? The possibilities, both beautiful and frightening, are endless. As are my thoughts and will to speculate. I can discuss these things forever; heavy doses of skepticism, conspiracy theory and distrust of the medical system are to be expected, but then I've been overexposed to fiction and "natural alternatives" during my short time on earth. Heh.

Were some of these visions to actually become reality, they would most likely seem scary or threatening. I'm fascinated by them and love juggling concepts, but I prefer they stay pushed into their cozy nook in a won't-be future. That way, I can keep thinking cyborg arms are the best thing ever without actually having to face the thought of what a weapon-modified one would do if it were available for use. (Yeah, I'm very yellow. Not afraid to show it; maybe a little bit ashamed of it.)

Now it's your turn. Say any kind of futuristic über-technology was within your reach. If you could get any physical enhancement you wanted, what would you go for? Would you be ready for the consequences? [PENIS ENLARGEMENT JOKE HERE.]

Me? The first thing I would do would be fix my eyesight, and get vision worthy of a fighter-plane pilot. As for those mechanical arms ... awesome as they are, there would be no point in cutting off a perfectly good organic arm to get there (not to mention that it would be very disturbing!). But a slick, strength-amping reflex-booster exoskeleton? YES PLEASE.

Dollhouse

I don't think I've ever written a post shoving this show down people's throats yet.

Well, it's about freakin' time.

What if you could program a person? What if it was possible to create the perfect lover, friend, assassin, or spy? What if you could have anyone, do anything, and leave regretting nothing at all? If actions had no consequences, what kind of world would this be?

Technology has made this reality for the very powerful and very wealthy - not in a not-so-distant future, but all around us, today. Volunteers sign away five years of their lives to an underground organization called the Dollhouse, and during this time, their brains will be imprinted with new custom-made personalities to suit their clients' needs. But the Dollhouse has skeletons in the closet (and maybe some fresh bodies too...), and there are people who are doing their utmost to bring the Houses down. In the Los Angeles 'House, there is one doll who goes by the name Echo. She is beginning to wake up. But will she be able to wake up the world?

I'm going to come clean with you: Dollhouse is my favorite show. Much as I love television series, I have never seen anything as good as this. Its simple concept opens up boundless complexity. It's full of more or less fantastic characters. Its plot is well-rounded and complete. Must I go on? (And it's only part bias!!!)

Dollhouse was created by Joss Whedon, the dude behind Buffy and Firefly. Some of his self-proclaimed followers were pissed off and disliked Dollhouse because i loved errything else he made then he changed it boohoo. (I may talk more about this some other time, since Buffy and I have a bit of a complicated relationship.) It got weak ratings and was cancelled after two seasons. But do not be deterred. It's really good.

Some people put off watching this show because the conceptual basis sounds "shallow and ridiculous" ("Glorified brothel!!! Romanticized trafficking!!!"). I am wont to disagree, as you may have guessed. Part of what makes Dollhouse so excellent is the way it does not try to shape your opinion of the ideas it presents. Although it insinuates that taking away freedom of mind and body is wrong, the characters in the show have different ways of approaching this ideology. Some believe the technology on which the Dollhouses are based should never have existed, while others think the temporary contract the organization offers will benefit individuals' lives in the long run. The world of Dollhouse, like the real world, is full of people with differing views on morals and ethics, and whether or not we like them or relate to them is up to us. Those examples I gave you? There are characters within the show who feel exactly the same way about what goes on down there, and who will do anything to stop it.

A show does not come without faults. In typical Whedon style, it features a lot of awesome, strong female characters, which in itself is refreshing and super great (for example, Dollhouse passes the Bechdel test in its very first scene). But, like Buffy, the heroine Echo is über-centralized and such a unique snowflake that she makes all the other snowflakes look like identical twins. In my opinion, the supporting cast more than makes up for this, but it is sometimes a bit bothersome. Also, before the crew was notified that the show was going to get cancelled (at which point they wrapped up the entire storyline and tied together almost every loose end; really admirable work!), there are a lot of "monster of the week" type episodes. The "monster" is usually some variety of depraved man who later gets his ass kicked by a girl. Although the stories are varied and interesting, the formula can get old if you notice those kind of things. Again, the hints of backstory, the humor, and the cast carry the show through, but I'd have liked to see some more evil women in the show.

I've already gone completely off on a tangent, but what I want to say is, I really recommend this show. It's a short and sweet sci-fi driven by character and thought provocation, and has excellent standards through and through.

GOD, EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH IT.

Crooooooooners

In direct contradiction with my post for the letter B, the one for C is dedicated to a genre of music which I wholeheartedly enjoy! Some of you may remember a post on my old blog in which I rained praise upon a CD called "Mob Hits." Well, I listened to Mob Hits again today (during a walk, while thinking intensely of a new story), and it is so great. Seriously, why is this stuff no longer popular.

So far, I have listened most prolifically to Dean Martin, by whom I own a double CD. (All credit goes to tech-savvy grandma and her advanced disc-burning skills.) However, I am looking forward to discovering more great old-time artists. If you know of any, please drop a line.

What is it about backslick-greasy, shaven-faced smooth oldies music that I find so fantastic?? I'm not completely sure, but it may be due partly to the large amount of Italian-Americans who sang these kinds of songs, making me in equal measures curious about and proud of my heritage, and partly to their extremely high sing-along factor. Few types of music allow the singing style "Uninhibited Belting" like catchy crooning postwar swing. Awwwww yeah.

(Oh, and those artists made great Christmas music.)

Its appeal is also most definitely related to my fascination with the dark cynicism of noir. The music is from the same era, and yet it's so glad, so wholesome by modern values. The resulting contrast is priceless. That walk I told you about? Too much of it was spent imagining violent mafia scenes to the tones of "Al-Di-La."

It's fun being morbid.

Background Ambiance

This is the kind of badly phrased post that makes me really glad this blog is now e%c100sively populated by a single-digit number of persons who I like because they are nice. You've been warned.

One thing I've never really understood is people's passion for music. Don't get me wrong, I like music too. However, I find it difficult to appreciate solely on its own merits. My favorite music, or any music that I think is especially good, is usually connected to a memory or creates a certain atmosphere. I enjoy instrumental music very much, like smooth jazz, piano solos, and epic soundtrack stuff - it's relaxing and very easy to work to. Music that is catchy or pleasant also ends up on my iPod as a way to pass the time while traveling. And of course, some stuff just sounds good. I like having music on while browsing the internet or writing or not really doing much in particular, but I never just listen to music. The only time I immerse myself in it is when I'm reminiscing (quick example: listening through the early Homestuck albums and getting nostalgic feelings for all the characters especially John).

Maybe I'm missing out on something massive here, but what I really don't get is all those "music is my drug <33333 post this if you can't live without music!1!!11!!" shenanigans (and their more sophisticated, non-Myspace Facebook counterparts). Music seems to be such a huge passion for so many people, and I wonder why this is. Is it because it's accessible, and easy for any hearing person to listen to a 3-minute song (as opposed to, say, reading a 700-page novel)? Or because there's often subculture and community that comes with being a fan? Is it because concerts are fun (I have never been to a "real" concert, nor do I really want to - just seems loud to me, and I am sound-sensitive), or because musicians are people it feels good to look up to? None, some, or all of the above?

I couldn't find any good pictures for this post so here is one of a giraffe

I very seldom, pardon my French, give a shit about the lyrics or the musicians behind the work. Which, uh, sounds a little harsh. But what I mean is, of course there are bands I like, but I don't usually bother finding out stuff about the members even to give them a tip of the hat. I listen to plenty of Japanese music with lyrics I do not understand, nor aim to, simply because my intent is to have some nice audio in the background while doing something else. I do look up lyrics sometimes, and I absolutely love songs that try to tell a story - these I can turn to for quick inspiration if I want to write. But repetitive lines about losing or seeking love, or being alone, misunderstood and going through tough times, or just something weird and whimsical that needs to be interpreted, really don't do anything for me. There are plenty of songs I like with those kinds of lyrics, but I kinda tune them out in favor of a pleasing listening experience. I know tons of people who actually relate, though. I'm not looking to undermine anybody's experiences, but I've heard so many people talk about bands "saving their lives" via their music and I, with my preferences, just don't understand how. (But then again I have never been suicidal. Or understood poetry.)

Yeah, yeah. People are into different things, I know. But it is so much easier to find somebody who loves music (although it may be hard to find someone who likes your particular kind of music) than, say, rock climbing. At least in the average gaggle of teens.

Don't even really know what my point is, besides emphasizing a slight aberration of opinion in my case since I am, in fact, a poorly closeted hipster. Why is this in any way relevant? Well, subtle differences in motivation can create massive amounts of "not having fun" when a topic comes up for discussion, if you're with the minority. And in every group of friends, there is always a mandatory conversation about music. Kind of like there is always a mandatory conversation about horror films, or amusement parks (although not necessarily horror films about amusement parks), or other things that yours truly really does not like. Being actively unsettled - or just bored - by things most people find very entertaining kind of sucks.

Okay, have I made my sad special snowflake problem clear? Good. What about the rest of you? Is there anything that people really adore discussing that just kinda ... puts you the hell off?

(ON A HAPPIER NOTE: Did I mention the part about epic soundtrack stuff?????)

Anime That Survived

Since a while back (suspiciously near the time I started reading Homestuck), my interest in manga and anime has waned considerably. On the other hand, I suppose you can say my standards have gone up, and I no longer buy any low-quality, high-price crap just for the sake of "starting a new series!!1!1!1!"

It's not as if I've completely disowned my old favorites, though. Here's one of those nifty lists!

Earth Hour - descend into darkness plz

So did you guys turn out your lights for Earth Hour?

I didn't. I think the whole thing is a big farce, to be honest.

We need so much less of this shitty marketing campaign.
Granted, this is from 2009, but how misleading can you get?

I'm not going to go all "Ooooh, it must feel so good to pretend to do something for climate change for one hour a year, huuuuuhhh???" Awareness is good, etc., etc., and if people want to use a symbolic manifestation to show their support, then go for it. What I don't like is the way it's marketed as something that's actually making a difference, because it's not. I'm not saying that Earth Hour has never led anybody to a more climate-friendly lifestyle, just that it's not as massive and amazing an incentive as the organizers like to claim. Turning out the lights and being a Dweller in Darknesssssss for an hour is a fun thing to do, for people with kids or people who want to have sex or people who are just bored, so of course it won't be difficult to get a large following. Nor is it a big deal for all these ~140 countries to jump on the bandwagon. Because it's just an hour, right?

BUT! How many people start eating vegetarian or taking public transportation in the freezing cold? We're not seeing a lot of radically changing lifestyles. And that's okay. Me, I'm a meat-eater who takes half-hour hot showers. Turning out the lights won't change that, and I'd prefer to be able to see for an hour and then leave the lights off for 12 hours while I sleep.

Pity we don't see more of this.

Keep Earth Hour-ing if you feel like it. I'm just disappointed in the people behind this for treating it as a call to arms and people from all walks of life uniting under a common goal, when it's really just a bunch of dorks giggling in the dark. Sure, use it as a symbol or use it for promotion, but the way Earth Hour is presented, it's as if this small action is enough to fill your debt to the climate for the entire year just because so many people do it. (And as somebody said, the marketing for Earth Hour likely consumes so much energy that it nullifies and the non-effect of Earth Hour and then drives laps around it.)

Ah well. At least those of us who're having sex are happy.

Games I like: Assassin's Creed

NOTHING IS TRUE; EVERYTHING IS PERMITTED.

(To be said with great fervor in a heavy Italian accent, or in Arabic that sounds like perfect American. Your call.)

This is so famous that most people have probably heard of it already, but I'll give the lowdown anyway. In Assassin's Creed, you are Desmond Miles, Just Some Guy who was abducted by an evil corporation actually run by the Knights Templar. Using a machine called the Animus, Desmond's captors use him to access the genetic memories of his ancestors, members of the ancient Order of Assassins, to find the secret to ruling the world. Evil conspirators were always so innovative.

A Sad Product of the Sedentary Age

I'm not the only cliché high school brainy kid who's had issues with P.E., but that definitely doesn't make it any easier. I am the slowest, the weakest and the shittiest at throwing balls in my entire class (much of this tragically proven through horridly public tests whose results were then to be compared with an average, oh the trauma). The overweight and asthmatic alike whoop my unathletic ass. I dislike exercise and hardly ever do any, so when we got this assignment to create a training plan (to be followed six days a week for two months) and then show improved results at the end of the period, I wanted to break down and cry. No wait, I did. (I didn't do the assignment and was - actually legitimately - absent on the re-test day, so I may be in some deep shit, but that's another matter.)

The thing is that it's not the exercise itself that deters me, it's the way the whole thing is organized. We just finished a painfully short dance unit, comprised of three lessons, which was really, really fun - not competitive, easily adaptable for both groups and individuals, alterable exertion levels, and a design where the performance itself is intrinsically more important than the final score. Come next lesson we'll be doing invasion sports instead. COOPERATE. SCORE. WIN!!!! Yay.

When you're pretty bad at P.E. and are playing team sports against people who're average, you learn to stay out of the way. If you know that if it were up to you, the team would lose every time, things tend to lose their appeal. Plus, there's no help to be had for a subject like this - no support groups or anything like there are for math or English. Which should be logical since it's not academic at all ... but apparently you have to pass to become eligible for university. Which also wouldn't be a problem - participation used to be enough - but at this school, not only do they give us homework, but homework that is more difficult and at least twice as time-consuming as that for any other subject. And then there's the whole thing about how public everything is - being red-faced, unable to breathe, and so sore the fillings in your teeth hurt (which actually happened once) is, in my opinion, slightly more humiliating then looking disappointed after a bad test score.

yeah pretty much

I'd love it if they had some sort of alternative P.E. class with a larger focus on individual activities, like dancing, yoga, or even aerobics-type exercise. I might even enjoy Physical Education then. But for now I guess it's back to the sidelines. Not just because of self-pity either, mind you: I dislike the thought of my glasses shattering from the force of a stray projectile.

Lobbing flying projectiles!!! Whoever invented organized sports was a sadist, I tell you.

Did you guys have issues with Physical Education, or was it just another subject, or even one of your best subjects? Was there anything you'd rather have done during this time? (Such as actual schoolwork???)

Bluh. Gonna get off my own case now and go do something productive. Like dance. Or read.

...yeah, read.

Meet the Mugs!

As someone who enjoys drinking tea, cocoa, and other hot beverages, as well as the merciless devouring of chillier concoctions such as ice cream, it's a good idea to have plenty of appropriate vessels on hand. I have accumulated several mugs that are exclusively mine. Let me introduce you.

On the far left, we have a large purple number bearing the likeness of Minnie Mouse, Veil of Veronica-style. It was acquired many years ago, possibly for a birthday, and used as a pen holder for most of that time. A profound redecorating scheme led me to return it to its original purpose, a decision that proved wise since this baby holds twice as much ice cream as any normal-sized mug. Tankard territory, brothers.

To the right of Minnie is another very old cat-themed cup. Since it was a gift, I don't have any kind of personal bond or story to go with it, but "Cats!!!" will have to suffice as an explanation for greatness.

Turning our gazes to the bottom right corner, we are met by the cheekily cheerful visage of one "Happy." Part of the Mr. Men series, Mr. Happy was discovered by me during my two-week internship at the English Bookshop. I was immediately taken in by his indomitable joviality and felt the instant need to own something with his face on it. Since I was a good worker, I even got a discount off the ridiculous amount I paid for this mug, but I don't regret a penny of it. Mr. Happy never fails to brighten a morning (or afternoon or night), and is probably my most favorite mug of all time.

Let's scurry across that gap back to the left, making sure to heed the warning advising us to mind it. Bought at Heathrow Airport during a visit to London, this Underground mug comes with a sector of tube map whose primary function is to let people point and shout "I've been there!!!" The cheap make of this mug is disliked by my mother, who is somewhat convinced it is full of lead, but I will not be deterred from adoring it. It is particularly fun to drink out of when accompanied by my matching "Mind the Gap" tee shirt.

At the top right we can see a (very recent) sixteenth birthday present, a Dunoon stoneware Zodiac mug full of symbols and keywords representing my sign, Pisces. The story of this mug contains a fair bit of coincidence, as I had seen and admired it on multiple occasions, unbeknownst to my mother who later purchased it for me. A stroke of luck was included too, as the Pisces mug in particular is nearly always sold out at the shop (possibly because Pisces is the only sign gullible enough to actually buy stuff with zodiac motifs). It's a lovely mug, although the placement of its handle makes it difficult to let the teabag steep and I'm afraid to put it in the dishwasher should the gold parts rub off, but it's so nice to look at that its slight awkwardness is irrelevant. (Get your own here!)

Last but not least, smack in the middle we have the newest addition to the group - a rainbow polkadot mug from the hardware store. It was a bargain at only 19 SEK, which I paid with a 500:- bill. The clerk was pissed as he handed over the 481:- worth of change, but I was in good spirits and have remained so ever since with this retro burst of color to greet me every day.

Now you are familiar with all my beverage vessels, and with this meeting, your life has been profoundly enriched (whether you know it or not). Heads up: it is only the first of many odd collections to come! Fare ye well, I'm outie.

*sips hot tea*

Very Important PSA

Regarding the recent nagging questions about whether or not I am joining this blogging A-Z Challenge thing.

Well, here is my final answer.

I will be joining.

And yet, I will not.

Thing is, I learned the hard way that posting something every day - without some serious advance planning, which wasn't possible in this case - is not the way for me to go. I'd put something up that I wrote in ten minutes, read through the whole thing eight times, and then either heavily edit it or delete the whole thing depending on how many people had already seen it. On this blog, I've been scheduling posts days in advance, and so I have time to go in and fine-tune them and try my best to think of interesting topics to post over a period of time instead of just bombarding y'all with four good posts in one day and then putting up ten crappy fillers the following week.

So, to elaborate? I won't be officially joining (full reasons for why will show up in one of the posts; I'm starting out with some tentative topic planning already) or following the Real Rules. So instead of just doing No Post On Sundays, I will follow the schedule I designed for myself (before I started putting up little PSAs like this, oops) and give you a post every other day. The challenge will stand, though - I will do my best to put up a post whose theme is centered around each subsequent letter of the alphabet.

The things I do for quality.

Okay, see you guys around. /goes off to think of post titles

it shall begin

Please stand up and remove your hats!

I'm totally into national anthems now.

Bet you never thought you'd hear anybody say that.

But really, they're awesome. So pompous and stately and proud! And vastly superior to the contemporary pop song when it comes to singing VERY loudly. Yes, I do cruise YouTube listening to national anthems. This is a thing with which I occupy myself. 'Tis the truth. My favorites are Russia's, America's, and incidentally Sweden's, but that might just be bias and understanding-the-lyrics. Japan's is lovely too, although it's a bit of an exception; it's softer and more folkly and doesn't, well, shout at you. Nice and ambient. There's this one video that has a bunch of beautiful imagery from Japan as well. At one part, the scenery of sakura blossoms and Mt. Fuji suddenly switches to cute Japanese girls, which was hilarious at the time and very incongruous, although I suppose cute girls never did any harm. But I digress.

This new international interest has made me extra sad that there is so much tension between nations, what with wars and immigration issues and all. Anthems are pretty much the most nationalistic thing on earth, and not everyone feels very flattered if you start belting out your allegiance to the great motherland, especially if said motherland massacred their people or something. Singing the Swedish anthem is considered - if not racist - then at least somehow disrespectful to multiculturalism by some overhyped über-leftists, since the populist party has gained influence and use all the traditional Swedish symbols to promote "healthy" cultural values. Duh, so a lot of those guys are assholes (racist ones, too), but this is the Kingdom of Sweden (fancy, eh?) and it's not like the song itself is condemning anyone. Actually, the lyrics are pretty melancholy. "Du tronar på minnen från fornstora dar" can be loosely translated as "'Hardcore Vikings of the North' is over. We're being neutral now. Days of glory and being a pillaging berserker are now things resigned to our dreams, so off with your helmets and put on your POLITICALLY CORRECT HATS!"

Plus, Sweden is the least of my worries. What of America? I can't exactly walk the streets bellowing "AND THE ROCKETS' RED GLAAAARE, THE BOMBS BURSTING IN AIIIIR, GAVE PROOOOF THROUGH THE NIIIIGHT THAT OUR FLAAAG WAAAS STIIIILL THEEEERE!!" Because, uh, that is just not a thing that people do. (And that's not the kind of song that people should write - I believe the lyrics are from wartimes, and stayed on for some inexplicable reaso--no wait they're still fighting a bunch of wars, nevermind - but I can't help that the tune is catchy, now can I?)

Here I go about politics again. I just can't seem to keep my nose out of the sort of topics that people on the internet like spewing hate about. Ah, oh well. I'll stop being so self-proclaimedly controversial and instead share some lovely orchestral scores! They are both humorous and unironically epic. OK then, Sophia out!

And then there will be cake~!

It's white chocolate vanilla raspberry, because I know you were going to ask.

I made the mistake of telling my mother about the famous line from Portal, so she had fun with that to no end today. ("We can't get a cake. It's a lie!! Ohohoho!") Yes I hang out with my mom on weekends, problem?

Anyway, this is a short post to announce that from now on, posts will be coming up every other day! If there is a change or an attack of sudden sloth, I may or may not tell, but this is what the schedule is going to be like for the foreseeable near-future. I've got several posts all drafted and ready, so make sure you check in!

Y-you know. I-if you want to.

See ya! :D