Someone Else’s Words: The Sincerity of a Child

Here’s a light for you
You can put all of your secrets in
And they will never come out again.

 

My little 6 year old housemate just said this to me. ❤

Filk: Filk Halls of Harmony

Filk Halls of Harmony

Words: Based on those written by Al Frank
Music: “Farewell tae th’ Creeks” by Hamish Henderson

Written while at the Columbus Airport after OVFF 2012

The Toastmaster’s saddened. The con’s gone away.
There’s no Dead Dog whiskey to be had today.
The skies up above us are clouded and grey
And all of the filkers are leavin’.

And it’s trudge, trudge, out to the landing,
And set down your packs while the lift’s on its way.
And it’s fare ye well ye filk halls of harmony.
All the poor filkers are leaving.

This contract’s fulfilled but next year’s has been made.
The hotel has told us our time’s overstayed.
Goodbyes if you haven’t said them all today.
When our carpools arrive, we’ll be leavin’.

And it’s trudge, trudge, out to the breezeway,
And Tetris your packs in the most fitting way.
And it’s fare ye well ye filk halls of harmony.
All the poor filkers are leaving.

No plane’s movin’ eastward, it’s covered in storm.
So only the ones who’re bound elsewhere go home,
Don’t sweat when your flight is, can’t leave still it’s done,
It still rains on the day that we’re leavin’.

And it’s trudge, trudge, out to the airport,
And check all your packs, make sure they’re squared away.
And it’s fare ye well ye filk halls of harmony.
Most of the filkers are leaving.

Some filk for the singing, some filkers just play.
But we are all filkers and filking’s our way.
It’s a hard thing to leave, but employment means pay
And like all of your filk friends, you’re leavin’.

So it’s phones out, check on the landin’
The flight has come in, walk aboard, come away.
And it’s fare ye well ye filk halls of Harmony,
For all the tired filkers are leavin’.

On Privilege, and Learning How To Avoid Using It To Step On Others

(This post began on Twitter.)

This post is for anyone who has privilege and interacts with people who have a lower level of privilege than them.

A thought: when raised in privilege w/ things mostly being fair, it can be easy to get defensive, and even angry, when people for whom things aren’t fair get angry about it and treat you unfairly. “After all,” you may think, “it wasn’t *me* that oppressed them.” Whether or not this is true is irrelevant. The best thing I can say is this: Get through it, stop talking, and listen to what they are saying. You’ve had the luxury of not having to think of the things your level of  privilege entails. They haven’t. Feel what you feel, sure, but don’t make your defensiveness and anger their problem.  The unfairness they are experiencing may not be your personal fault, but that doesn’t mean their anger is allowed to be erased by that.

Something I learned in the last couple of days is that I’m still not very good at this, which is hard to admit. I’m trying to take it one conversation/opportunity to listen at a time.

 

Character: The Atacarthian Manticore

In her den, the Manticore snarls and rages. She hates everything, even while loving it so tightly that the broken edges cut her. She would destroy it all until every creature around her suffers as soul deep as she does, bleeding her love out on the foundations which are all that remain of her home; even they are nearly gone. The great City Atacarthia has been destroyed, desecrated by a new queen, her consort, and the Order in power which deems that nothing that the City was previously is good enough for it. They raised her hopes at first with talk of cooperation and slow but needed improvements, then razed it level, only to raise up their own pathetic mockery of the beauty and ancient pride with which the City once held up Her head. The Manticore would love nothing more than to see it burn.

Do not approach that cavern, child. The Manticore is no less deadly for her sobs and screeching than she was at the height of her prosperity. Manticores still sting, roar, sing, and kill as their fathers teach them, and New Atacarthia would do well to remember that.

Lyrics Snippet from 09-10-2008

I won’t be Wendy to your Peter Pan
I’ll not be Mickey to your Rose
I bow to none, catch me if you can
This is how the story goes

 

Posted originally in my LJ.

Poem: On Being An Adult, Sometimes

Welcoming reality
“bye, for now” to fantasy
“Hi, Responsibility”
not just what I want to see.

Filk: The Nation Called Panem

Updated lyrics here.

 

Outdated lyrics below:

Read the rest of this entry

Poem: Awkward and Elbows

I’m not a 24-year-old woman
When she comes around
I’m instantly male
And 14
“Haha, you said hard”
And other such witticisms
Are all that emerge from my lips
I have two left feet
All awkward and elbows
Dorky to the max
And wanting to just snap my fingers
To make
me
CLEVER
again.

 

(Posted on August 11, 2008, in my Livejournal. Written by younger Me.)

[PSA][Language] Nuclear vs Nuculer, or “What is a nucule?”

Curiosity’s power source is “nuclear” (new-clee-er), not “nuculer” (new-cuew-ler).

There’s no such word as nuculer.

[Edit] Actually there is, sort of! My friend Mali Hawthorne said this:
“What’s cool is that “Nu-Cu-Ler” is actually a word! A “nucule” is the meat in the center of a pit-having fruit, such as a peach, apricot or almond. An almond-bar, for example, can in fact, be described as “nucular” because it has to do with almonds, which are nucules!”

[Edit the Second] Another friend wisely pointed out that they find that discussions such as these are prone to stray to the level of “Learn English or go home”. An embarrassing and eye-opening moment for me as to where my privilege and prejudices lay.

[Thoughts on Writing] Trying To Combine Disparate Ideas

When I try to combine disparate story concepts (my troll character and my superhero character), it almost feel like oil and water, or bubbles that don’t stick to each other.