Title: Reconcilable Cultural Differences
Written By: S. Courtney
All Rights Reserved May 2012
“They make my teeth crawl,” I remarked, setting the box down in the living room.
“Huh?” Peter looked up from the box of kitchen equipment he was organizing: first by utility and then by size and then by color. “I didn’t think yours could do that.”
I blinked.
“My what?” I asked.
“Your teeth. I didn’t think yours could crawl. Usually humans aren’t that… sensitive.”
“Oh. Oh, I see. No, they can’t. It’s a figure of speech. Human teeth aren’t made to…”
“Right – I mean, there’s some sensation, I know, but not like that. You really lost the evolutionary lottery there.”
“Why?” I asked, curious. “Can yours, I don’t know… feel?”
Peter turned his attention to another box of kitchen impedimenta.
“Yes, they’re quite sensitive actually. There are some species of us that can even taste the air with them.”
“Really? Air?”
“Yeah, there’s an olfactory element to it.”
“Uh huh.”
Part of the problem with talking to Peter is, even though I love him dearly, and trust him with my life (something that has come up a time or two in our three-year marriage), I can’t always tell if he’s serious.
People say Martians don’t have a sense of humor – and according to Peter it’s true. But then, it’s lucky I’m not married to a Martian. They may not have sarcasm on Alpha Centauri Delta, but they do have a wicked sense of humor.
“Peter?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“Why?” Peter asked. “What happens if I do?”
Monday, May 21, 2012
On Final Exams, Illness, et. al.
Not my finals - thank goodness. Well, sort of my finals. The last day of real classes is always a heady mix of relief and panic. As Becky once pointed out, "finals week is when the students work harder than we do."
And it's true to a certain extent. But all good (and bad) things must come to an end and so does this schoolyear. Which has been a pretty good one. Given what had happened in previous years (maternity substitutes from hell, moving classrooms, general rebuilding), it has been a good one. Bringing order to one's professional life has certainly had positive outcomes. Most notably: I can find stuff now!
Being sick for two weeks, however, I cannot recommend at this time of year. I spent two days without voice teaching. That was an interesting exercise, and I think if I ever do teach teachers, I will make that an assignment. Just because... ;)
Reading has been confined to Rex Stout. I'm starving for books, I really am. Good books, too.
Passive entertainment has been Torchwood (which was quite accurately likened to bingeing on pork rinds) and Doctor Who. Knowing more or less how this last series of DW ends is making it very fun as I try to reverse-engineer the outcome. For some reason, however, the metaphysics of River's timeline is giving me a headache. And finally, The Silence have managed to scare the dickens out of me. Angels didn't do it for me, but The Silence did - luckily yesterday I was in a fugue state most of the day due to relapsing illness crap and so The Silence didn't frighten me as much as it could have if I'd been more aware.
Of course, the next question that faces us is the conundrum of the 9 weeks of summer. New York, personal travel, and rest. . .
And maybe I'll be able to write, too.
And it's true to a certain extent. But all good (and bad) things must come to an end and so does this schoolyear. Which has been a pretty good one. Given what had happened in previous years (maternity substitutes from hell, moving classrooms, general rebuilding), it has been a good one. Bringing order to one's professional life has certainly had positive outcomes. Most notably: I can find stuff now!
Being sick for two weeks, however, I cannot recommend at this time of year. I spent two days without voice teaching. That was an interesting exercise, and I think if I ever do teach teachers, I will make that an assignment. Just because... ;)
Reading has been confined to Rex Stout. I'm starving for books, I really am. Good books, too.
Passive entertainment has been Torchwood (which was quite accurately likened to bingeing on pork rinds) and Doctor Who. Knowing more or less how this last series of DW ends is making it very fun as I try to reverse-engineer the outcome. For some reason, however, the metaphysics of River's timeline is giving me a headache. And finally, The Silence have managed to scare the dickens out of me. Angels didn't do it for me, but The Silence did - luckily yesterday I was in a fugue state most of the day due to relapsing illness crap and so The Silence didn't frighten me as much as it could have if I'd been more aware.
Of course, the next question that faces us is the conundrum of the 9 weeks of summer. New York, personal travel, and rest. . .
And maybe I'll be able to write, too.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Wherein I watch a lot of Netflix and Revise my Views on David Tennant
More or less what it says on the tin...
This has been the year of Netflix Streaming, apparently. When the new year broke, they updated their contracts, it seems, and now there's a ton of stuff on Streaming. This equals a happy, if not less productive, Sara.
Downton Abbey
This is pure crack. I mean, the production values are nifty, and Dame Maggie Smith is awesome (she is a Dame, is she not? If she isn't she should be) but that's down to the fact that she's generally awesome. It's interesting, you can tell which actors are acting and which are WORKING at acting in this, which I find rather disappointing. It isn't their fault, poor dears, but sometimes you just have to WORK at something to get through it and make it even remotely passable. Case in point: Bartholomew Fair at the Young Vic in 1999. It's not the world's greatest play, but the actors gave it a shot and well, you could tell. The lead (whom I thanked profusely afterwards - he was also the villain in Measure for Measaure that year at the Barbican) was exhausted by the end of it and you could tell. Don't think I'll be watching the second series of DA - unless I have a break like I did this February where that is ALL I did.
Doctor Who
It's all about the nerd cred, really. I mean, how can I call myself a nerd in good faith if I haven't watched Doctor Who? I mean, really.
Eccleston is still my favorite, and I'm almost done with Tennant. This isn't the post where I talk about how I have a lovely masochistic relationship with the writers and producers, 'cuz, that could take forever and would involve a lot of fangirling on my part. Suffice it to say, I think I shall quote John Finnemore when he said, "I want to be the man who makes the noise of the TARDIS." And failing that, "be a very useful engine."
Which brings me to the title of the post. Up to a few months ago, I had only seen Tennant in Harry Potter and Hamlet. Two roles that, unfortunately, require the actor to appear to be batshit nuts. Or, really, really unhappy. And yeah, every actor wants to play Hamlet, but really, on balance, it's not the best vehicle out there for displaying your chops. So, in effect, Tennant nailed it by loafing around looking moody and crazy by turns. Which is pretty much all there is to Hamlet.
(Overexposure much? Maybe - I've only seen the damned thing a million times - at this point I'll watch a production for the tech, not the acting. SPOILER ALERT: Rocks fall, everybody dies.)
So, ok - 10th Doctor. WOW. He not only has really good acting chops, he's also adorable. And insane, and sad, and beautiful, and all those things wrapped up into one messy TARDIS riding um... thing. So, for what it's worth, I'm a fangirl - he does have range, lots of it, and I'm glad I was wrong about him.
Favorite episode so far? Blink. Didn't scare the daylights out of me the way I thought it would, but it did make be start on occasion afterwards when I saw the little gargoyle magnet on the fridge.
Forsyte Saga
Couldn't finish this - maybe some day. Mostly because the ongoing angst and drama makes me want to hit things. I know I'm supposed to be invested in these folks lives, but again, I feel like the actors are workig too hard. The dude playing Irene's lover missing the bloodpack on his death scene kind of clinched it for me. Or was I the only one to notice that? He turned it into a nice dying twitch, but the repeated biting and then oh! there's the blood was a bit of a mood killer. Oh, and I don't like Rupert Graves with an arty!beard.
The Comfort Food
Black Books, FortySomething (aww, Rory!batch, still my fav), Arrested Development. Mostly I use these when the writers of Doctor Who have ripped out my heart and done the polka on it. Which, I'm happy to say, happens quite regularly.
And of course Sherlock - naturally. Although having seen S2, Ep 3, I will confess to hyperventillating over the phone. Just a little bit. Whoooargh.
This has been the year of Netflix Streaming, apparently. When the new year broke, they updated their contracts, it seems, and now there's a ton of stuff on Streaming. This equals a happy, if not less productive, Sara.
Downton Abbey
This is pure crack. I mean, the production values are nifty, and Dame Maggie Smith is awesome (she is a Dame, is she not? If she isn't she should be) but that's down to the fact that she's generally awesome. It's interesting, you can tell which actors are acting and which are WORKING at acting in this, which I find rather disappointing. It isn't their fault, poor dears, but sometimes you just have to WORK at something to get through it and make it even remotely passable. Case in point: Bartholomew Fair at the Young Vic in 1999. It's not the world's greatest play, but the actors gave it a shot and well, you could tell. The lead (whom I thanked profusely afterwards - he was also the villain in Measure for Measaure that year at the Barbican) was exhausted by the end of it and you could tell. Don't think I'll be watching the second series of DA - unless I have a break like I did this February where that is ALL I did.
Doctor Who
It's all about the nerd cred, really. I mean, how can I call myself a nerd in good faith if I haven't watched Doctor Who? I mean, really.
Eccleston is still my favorite, and I'm almost done with Tennant. This isn't the post where I talk about how I have a lovely masochistic relationship with the writers and producers, 'cuz, that could take forever and would involve a lot of fangirling on my part. Suffice it to say, I think I shall quote John Finnemore when he said, "I want to be the man who makes the noise of the TARDIS." And failing that, "be a very useful engine."
Which brings me to the title of the post. Up to a few months ago, I had only seen Tennant in Harry Potter and Hamlet. Two roles that, unfortunately, require the actor to appear to be batshit nuts. Or, really, really unhappy. And yeah, every actor wants to play Hamlet, but really, on balance, it's not the best vehicle out there for displaying your chops. So, in effect, Tennant nailed it by loafing around looking moody and crazy by turns. Which is pretty much all there is to Hamlet.
(Overexposure much? Maybe - I've only seen the damned thing a million times - at this point I'll watch a production for the tech, not the acting. SPOILER ALERT: Rocks fall, everybody dies.)
So, ok - 10th Doctor. WOW. He not only has really good acting chops, he's also adorable. And insane, and sad, and beautiful, and all those things wrapped up into one messy TARDIS riding um... thing. So, for what it's worth, I'm a fangirl - he does have range, lots of it, and I'm glad I was wrong about him.
Favorite episode so far? Blink. Didn't scare the daylights out of me the way I thought it would, but it did make be start on occasion afterwards when I saw the little gargoyle magnet on the fridge.
Forsyte Saga
Couldn't finish this - maybe some day. Mostly because the ongoing angst and drama makes me want to hit things. I know I'm supposed to be invested in these folks lives, but again, I feel like the actors are workig too hard. The dude playing Irene's lover missing the bloodpack on his death scene kind of clinched it for me. Or was I the only one to notice that? He turned it into a nice dying twitch, but the repeated biting and then oh! there's the blood was a bit of a mood killer. Oh, and I don't like Rupert Graves with an arty!beard.
The Comfort Food
Black Books, FortySomething (aww, Rory!batch, still my fav), Arrested Development. Mostly I use these when the writers of Doctor Who have ripped out my heart and done the polka on it. Which, I'm happy to say, happens quite regularly.
And of course Sherlock - naturally. Although having seen S2, Ep 3, I will confess to hyperventillating over the phone. Just a little bit. Whoooargh.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
After Two Years...
Give or take, I finally finished American Gods.
Still like Anansi Boys better - still not sold on AG.
I get what Gaiman was going for - I really do. And I admire the book for that reason. It's like when you eat somethingin a fancy restaurant and you APPRECIATE the craft, but you don't like the taste. Or when you see a play and you understand what went into it, but don't viscerally enjoy it.
Leaving the discussion of Art Appreciation aside, my first thought was that this would be a good "nursing book" to read. That is, the long hours spent trying to get Megan to sleep plus the Kindle App on the phone - that combination would be perfect for getting my teeth into AG.
Um, not a good idea. Emotionally fragile, moderately traumatized, completely exhausted and afraid are not good things to be when tackling a book like this. At least for me. So, I did the wise thing and set it aside.
Picked it up again a few months ago - January maybe? And have been reading it off and on, finally got to the point where finishing it became a matter of sheer bloodymindedness. I think... I think that one of my main objections to the book, to the themes (as I look across the classroom at the bookshelves laden with books on Classical Mythology, historiography, and history) was a sense of "yeah, I study this stuff, and?"
Much like Shadow navigating that 'tweener world of America - I mean, he's our Everyman, right? We have this splotchy knowledge of Things That Went Before of gods and demons etc that were worshipped by our ancestors. Heroditus? Really? And what's it all for here? As our knowledge gets more splotchy and faded, do we lose a sense of who we were and are? I mean, obviously that's one of the themes, I think. And ok, fine... I get it. But there's a but here. A big one, and I think I'm getting my frustration with the dying and the relative irrelevancy of my profession mixed up in all of this.
Which is another blog post. One that I'm not liable to make on the grounds that it will get WAY too ranty.
Things I did like were Shadow's longer view at the end - who Odin is and is not. I like the duality of that and I think Gaiman hit the nail on the head really well there. Could've done with a lot more of that, but then, I went into this trip knowing more than Shadow did. Also enjoyed the pettyness off the gods (pettiness?) So very, very in keeping with those traditions where gods are projections of oruselves and our foibles. Would've liked to see more development of that, too, I think.
Now, shall I do what I ought to do and find something good for my Latin IV class to work on? Or read that pile of scholarly articles on Christian Feminism and Mariological study that I dug out today in my quest for something good for my IV class to work on.
Decent problem to have, innit?
Still like Anansi Boys better - still not sold on AG.
I get what Gaiman was going for - I really do. And I admire the book for that reason. It's like when you eat somethingin a fancy restaurant and you APPRECIATE the craft, but you don't like the taste. Or when you see a play and you understand what went into it, but don't viscerally enjoy it.
Leaving the discussion of Art Appreciation aside, my first thought was that this would be a good "nursing book" to read. That is, the long hours spent trying to get Megan to sleep plus the Kindle App on the phone - that combination would be perfect for getting my teeth into AG.
Um, not a good idea. Emotionally fragile, moderately traumatized, completely exhausted and afraid are not good things to be when tackling a book like this. At least for me. So, I did the wise thing and set it aside.
Picked it up again a few months ago - January maybe? And have been reading it off and on, finally got to the point where finishing it became a matter of sheer bloodymindedness. I think... I think that one of my main objections to the book, to the themes (as I look across the classroom at the bookshelves laden with books on Classical Mythology, historiography, and history) was a sense of "yeah, I study this stuff, and?"
Much like Shadow navigating that 'tweener world of America - I mean, he's our Everyman, right? We have this splotchy knowledge of Things That Went Before of gods and demons etc that were worshipped by our ancestors. Heroditus? Really? And what's it all for here? As our knowledge gets more splotchy and faded, do we lose a sense of who we were and are? I mean, obviously that's one of the themes, I think. And ok, fine... I get it. But there's a but here. A big one, and I think I'm getting my frustration with the dying and the relative irrelevancy of my profession mixed up in all of this.
Which is another blog post. One that I'm not liable to make on the grounds that it will get WAY too ranty.
Things I did like were Shadow's longer view at the end - who Odin is and is not. I like the duality of that and I think Gaiman hit the nail on the head really well there. Could've done with a lot more of that, but then, I went into this trip knowing more than Shadow did. Also enjoyed the pettyness off the gods (pettiness?) So very, very in keeping with those traditions where gods are projections of oruselves and our foibles. Would've liked to see more development of that, too, I think.
Now, shall I do what I ought to do and find something good for my Latin IV class to work on? Or read that pile of scholarly articles on Christian Feminism and Mariological study that I dug out today in my quest for something good for my IV class to work on.
Decent problem to have, innit?
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
"Quarterly" Book Report
I say "quarterly" - I mean, when I get a chance to update it.
Reads from January to March-ish
Lucifer Box series - Mark Gatiss
Fun, fun, and fun! Nice to see the action-adventure-James Bond tropes played out here, certainly he doesn't take himself to seriously, which is nice to see. Sort of a latter-day Harry Flashman, although, I find Lucifer much more endearing. Probably because Flashman's such a scoundrel that eventually he just put me off. Lucifer on the other hand, is equally a scoundrel but with a little more, not morals (never those) but oh, hell, maybe he's just nicer.
**note to self - try to write blog posts when you're more awake**
Lavinia - Ursula LeGuin
Wow. Epic wow, actually. Although it sags in parts (and it's going to, it's huge), this is a fabulous look at Lavinia - wife of Aeneas - queen of Latium, Latinus' daughter, etc. I love the pre-Roman history that LeGuin puts in, as well. No surprises that I enjoyed this - although I am leery of the ancient-novel genre. Just... I teach it, doesn't mean I have to be obsessive about it. Plus, they're generally not well written. This is the happy exception.
Death Comes to Pemberly - P.D. James
Jane Austen fanfiction. Written by P.D. James, so it's GOOD Jane Austen fanfiction, but it's still Jane Austen fanfiction. Which I'm okay with. I haven't been able to get into her latest Adalm Dalgleish mystery, so this was reassuringly readable.
American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Still working on this. And I'm trying, I really am. I enjoyed Anansi Boys - even chose it as Summer Reading two years ago and had an interesting discussion with the kids (2 boys) about it. I think perhaps because I was drawn to the strong sense of place that infuses the book - especially the Floridian scenes, the werid mix of Floridian Gothic and Englishness. And that sense of place infuses American Gods, too. I'm just having to work at it a bit more. I like the concept, I've read it before (Small Gods - Prachett), and it's a cool thing to play with. I just... I want to get into it, I really do, but I'm not sucked in the way I was by Anansi Boys.
Gambit - Rex Stout
Ongoing with American Gods - interesting mix, but there you go. Classic Nero Wolfe - maybe not one of the best, but still, little emotional investment needed here. Although, gotta say, I'm not fond of the "later" ones. I much prefer them set pre-war, I think. Gambit is set in the sixties and that seems to be stretching it for me. Of course the other nice thing about the Nero Wolfes is that it's New York. And really, who can complain about that?
So... what's next? No idea. Thoughts? Ideas? If it's in kindle format, that's a big plus, considering I really only have time to read for those forty minutes or so when I'm putting Megan to bed.
Reads from January to March-ish
Lucifer Box series - Mark Gatiss
Fun, fun, and fun! Nice to see the action-adventure-James Bond tropes played out here, certainly he doesn't take himself to seriously, which is nice to see. Sort of a latter-day Harry Flashman, although, I find Lucifer much more endearing. Probably because Flashman's such a scoundrel that eventually he just put me off. Lucifer on the other hand, is equally a scoundrel but with a little more, not morals (never those) but oh, hell, maybe he's just nicer.
**note to self - try to write blog posts when you're more awake**
Lavinia - Ursula LeGuin
Wow. Epic wow, actually. Although it sags in parts (and it's going to, it's huge), this is a fabulous look at Lavinia - wife of Aeneas - queen of Latium, Latinus' daughter, etc. I love the pre-Roman history that LeGuin puts in, as well. No surprises that I enjoyed this - although I am leery of the ancient-novel genre. Just... I teach it, doesn't mean I have to be obsessive about it. Plus, they're generally not well written. This is the happy exception.
Death Comes to Pemberly - P.D. James
Jane Austen fanfiction. Written by P.D. James, so it's GOOD Jane Austen fanfiction, but it's still Jane Austen fanfiction. Which I'm okay with. I haven't been able to get into her latest Adalm Dalgleish mystery, so this was reassuringly readable.
American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Still working on this. And I'm trying, I really am. I enjoyed Anansi Boys - even chose it as Summer Reading two years ago and had an interesting discussion with the kids (2 boys) about it. I think perhaps because I was drawn to the strong sense of place that infuses the book - especially the Floridian scenes, the werid mix of Floridian Gothic and Englishness. And that sense of place infuses American Gods, too. I'm just having to work at it a bit more. I like the concept, I've read it before (Small Gods - Prachett), and it's a cool thing to play with. I just... I want to get into it, I really do, but I'm not sucked in the way I was by Anansi Boys.
Gambit - Rex Stout
Ongoing with American Gods - interesting mix, but there you go. Classic Nero Wolfe - maybe not one of the best, but still, little emotional investment needed here. Although, gotta say, I'm not fond of the "later" ones. I much prefer them set pre-war, I think. Gambit is set in the sixties and that seems to be stretching it for me. Of course the other nice thing about the Nero Wolfes is that it's New York. And really, who can complain about that?
So... what's next? No idea. Thoughts? Ideas? If it's in kindle format, that's a big plus, considering I really only have time to read for those forty minutes or so when I'm putting Megan to bed.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Gates of Horn and Ivory
Written as a submission for the Mini Operas Competition - a Libretto.
S Courtney, 2012
S Courtney, 2012
From the Gates of Horn and Ivory
Three dreams cluster
DSR, dressed in grey and faded rags. They are hollow eyed and wraith-like.
Insubstantial but brittle. USC, a woman sleeps. As they sing, they whirl around
the bedroom – raging like Bacchantes.
Dream One: He's
coming, can you feel it? The wind. The brush. He's coming.
Dream Two: She's
waking, can you see her? Moving, shifting. She's waking.
Dream Three: Her
alarm is crying out. Can you hear it? Beeping every morning, beeping, beeping,
always beeping, make it stop make it stop, it fills me, shatters me. Beeping…
Dream One: He's
coming, I can feel him.
Dream Two: She's
waking, I can see her.
Dream Three: Make
it stop, make it stop, the beeping, the noise, make it stop make it stop. Will
she take me with her? Don't leave me here to shatter.
Dreams Together: She's
waking, he's coming don't leave me. Don't leave me here to shatter, shatter,
shatter, to skitter, scatter the broken pieces of our world.
Coming.
Waking.
Beeping.
Morning.
Moving.
Coming, coming, coming. He's coming with his broom to take
us away. Keep us. Save us.
Woman Rises. The
dreams retreat from their Bacchic dance, cling to the woman's bed. She cannot
see them.
Woman: They beg
me. Every morning they beg me. Hollow eyes and ragged clothes. They scream to
me as they shatter across their universe. Bright shards of glass and dreams,
shooting stars of possibility and fairy tales.
Dreams Together: faintly. Keep me. Don't leave me. Don't
leave me here to die.
Woman: I can hear
them. They break with the crashing of glass and china, falling to the floor. I
can feel Him, too. A Stygian breeze – he comes through the Gate of Horn and
Ivory, crosses Lethe, drinks from Styx, such a man to take them away.
I hear them. Their final cries drowned by the swish of the
broom.
Hear them. They cry out to me, call my name, beg me.
I see him.
He's older than I remember. I don't always see him. When I
was young he was handsome, a knight. Once he fought the dragons that lived in
me. I begged him to take me with him, kissed him. Loved him.
His lance was silver, his helmet of gold.
He left me, and although I knew of his coming, heard his
footsteps and the soft swish of his broom, I didn't see him.
Now I am old. The dragons are gone and the dreams are sharp.
Brittle.
And now I see him. Old and tired, grainy and grey. His
weapons a broom and a dustpan.
And still they fear him. And I still yearn for him.
I welcome him. I offer him my hand.
If he would stay, the world would spin faster. Take me with
you. Take me.
Now he nods, dusty and grey. And sweeps them all, leaving me
behind, a stray sliver of memory a bright spark of a dream. Shattered. Shards.
Shards to cut you when unwary you step.
The day begins. As it always does. He turns to smile at me,
and I watch him fade.
Sweeping, sweeping them away.
And tomorrow morning and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Dream One: He's
coming.
Dream Two: She's
waking.
Dream Three: The
alarm shatters.
Dreams Together:
He's coming.
She's waking.
Make it stop, take me with you, don't leave me here to die
again.
They cling to the
woman, to her bed, to her legs as she stretches, makes motions to greet the
day. The Dream Sweeper enters USL, pushing his broom. The dreams cling to her
and wail as the Dream Sweeper begins to hum (a little out of tune) "You'll
Never Walk Alone" as he makes his trek DSR, as the dreams flee before him,
whirling and breaking.
Introductory Post
So since I seem to find myself submitting writing to different events, it seems best to begin a blog.
And here it is. Posting will be mostly regarding original writing, editing, and various fangirling.
Specific fangirling over events, television shows, and movies is hosted elsewhere. Occasionally, I will attempted to post something amusing or at the very least, entertaining.
So, "allons y!" so to speak.
And here it is. Posting will be mostly regarding original writing, editing, and various fangirling.
Specific fangirling over events, television shows, and movies is hosted elsewhere. Occasionally, I will attempted to post something amusing or at the very least, entertaining.
So, "allons y!" so to speak.
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