April 29th, 2007

trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats

A Saturday made out of near-complete win

Woke up around 8 with the alarm clock. Watched more Death Note with hcolleen. Eventually meandered out in the direction of plasma place, and settled in to wait. I got there and signed in at 11:10. Somewhat after noon, they were calling people from 10-ish. I opted to leave at that point, on the grounds that I wanted to hang out with Darkside.

I do divination by license plate, building sign, and billboard when in traffic. A billboard by the airport slapped my eye; this would prove to be significant later on.

When I got to Mesa, Darkside's dad answered the door and pointed out that the car was not there; Darkside and his mom were Out; he didn't think Darkside was expecting anyone, with implied "please, girl, do my son the courtesy of warning you before you show up". I mentioned that he was expecting me, in fact; we'd discussed it yesterday. Well, Darkside hadn't said anything to him about expecting anyone. I was sure I could find something to do around Mesa until they came back, I mentioned at his dismissal.

So I called Darkside's cellphone. And Darkside was surprised that I was there so early, and apologetic about running late, and made noise about having tried to call me to say he was running late but not having my number entered right or something. He and his mother were at a bookstore. He told me that I could tell his father that in fact Darkside was expecting me. I mentioned that, actually, I was taking a little walk around the neighborhood, because Geezius Maximus had, um, well... "He slammed the door in your face?" "Not quite, but he was ... dismissive." Darkside and I got off the phone shortly thereafter, and I continued to wander, now with a better idea of the estimated time of arrival.

My phone chirped up a few minutes later with the MIDI sounds of the Hallelujah Chorus and a little picture of the sun. It was Darkside, calling back (!) to let me know that they'd be a half-hour, and if I wanted, I could come in, as the ol' fellow had been informed that I was indeed expected. I hedged. "What, are you scared of him?" Darkside wanted to know, amused. "Um... yeah." I wound up walking around until they got back. That billboard had either meant that I needed to talk to Darkside's dad (to attain whatever end I was headed at), or had warned that I would have to talk to Darkside's dad. Either way, I flubbed it.

The first order of business when Darkside and his mom showed up, after they dragged me in and told me that I had to choose the beverage flavor (which I chose by the highly scientific method of pointing at random), was duct tape swords. Darkside and I repaired to the back yard with pipe, foam, duct tape, and an assortment of tools and accessories, all vital. Fun was had. Swords were made. I schooled Darkside in the basic principles, and soon the bones of his sword were drying on the gravel. He hefted the length of left-over pipe with that look in his eye, and I laughed. Not because he was doing something dumb, but because I'd had that very same look doing that very same thing with mine. He put together the little sword, and by the time that was done, it was time for the big one. No sooner had we got most of the foam on (not wrapped) than Darkside said that we'd have to finish up very quickly, as he didn't like the look of those clouds. Verily, by the time we were done wrapping the main sword with duct tape, the dust storm had already started.

(The whole experience was laced with puns, of course, the worse the better. I had a particularly vile shaggy dog story about a re-foamed criminal.)

It was time for Witch Hunter Robin, so that's exactly what we did (after putting everything away, of course). My swords went in my car, because Darkside was too sore to think about fighting, and there was too much dust to think about being outside. We settled into his room and finished off the series, briefly interrupted by dinner.

Mmm, contact. My head on his elbow does not equal win, because that can get painful from the wrong angle. We found anime-watching positions that worked, and all was cozy and nice. (He explained also that he is very ticklish. I am plotting to exploit this in fun-for-the-whole-bond ways.)

After we finished the series, he proceeded to challenge me to Soul Calibur III, since we couldn't actually fight. He went easy on me and picked characters he's not so good with, a different one each time, and I stayed with the same guy. Then I started actually winning in my own right. (Hee.) After my thumbs wore out, he showed me some of the special features. Fun. (I mentioned that I don't game, right? For him, I will game.)

I think next weekend is a weekend with all sorts of insanity, so I may not be able to go out there then. I know it's a work party, and then there may be writers group things. I let him know this. I brought up the thing I was planning to ask last time, about Other Friends, and we expressed our positions, including me calling him "Mr. Army Brat Communication Skills".

Best friends rock. Best friends who are now official duct-tape sword guys rock even more. ♥
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fangirl, _schools4303

Women, men, and labels

metafandom just exploded in feminism, so I wound up over at commodorified's LJ again, to join in the discussion.

I think I'll quibble about semantics. Feminism is the fight for equal legal rights (and with them, responsibilities) for women, and the attendant social battle for the possibility of equal social position, especially where gender intersects with the business world.

Coming bundled with feminism are activists, who fight for said rights. Sometimes this includes militant radical activists. And when gender issues come up, sometimes this means militant radical activist misandrists. (Hooray for the lunatic fringe of any legitimate movement!)

I am not a fan of militant radical activist misandrists; they generally cause me to either back away slowly or run screaming. I'm none too fond of the domestic passive-aggressive misandrist either.

Feminism should be the positive side of the backlash against misogyny and rigid gender roles. Misandry is the shadow side. But all too often, people say "feminist" and mean "psychotic misandrist". It may be too late now, but please, please, please, separate the legal and social movement of equal rights (and responsibilities) from some of the (scary!) people in it.

Because of said scary people, there's been a backlash against the spectrum of psychotic militant radical activist misandrists. Hiding in that backlash are reactionary misogynists, who not only object to scary militant radical misandry, but also to women breaking free of the traditional societal mold and doing their own thing. (Okay, maybe not "hiding in" so much as "creating it as a front and trying to attract feminists who dislike misandry for deniability purposes", but same general effect.)

Objecting to misandrists is a legitimate position. I don't much care for misandrists, whether they come screaming for women's rights and acting up in public, or whether they're an aproned homemaker with five kids and nothing but loathing for her husband and all other men. I think that anyone with that much hatred for one of the two primary genders on this planet has more problems than I'm ever going to care to touch, let alone try to fix (unless I'm called to say or do something, which is another story).

I think that it's an excellent step for feminism that reactionary misogynists feel that they have to hide behind the objection to misandry. They're in retreat now, and looking more and more like the outdated fools they are every single day. They have no legitimate leg to stand on, so they're relying on stirring up confusion about where the lines between misandry and feminism actually lie. That kind of confusion can be dispelled by being crystal clear and pedantic about words, and calling a reactionary misogynist a reactionary misogynist when one sees one.

(Next up on the revolution front: once women have equal social as well as legal right to do whatever they please that any man can do, men are going to start the revolution to be accepted as homemakers. But that one will probably wait until the power imbalance corrects itself more, and maybe it will be a non-issue by then and we'll be on to the next big thing. tygerr, you are as always very good about pointing out misandry when you see it and calling it for what it is; I wouldn't even be aware of it as an issue without you pointing things out.)
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