Tag Archives: tv shows

Life of an Orphan Black Fangirl

No big deal, just had some  fanart showcased at the San Diego Comic Con last week.

One of minneeee! Wheeeeeee!

The Orphan Black Tumblr is a very fun Tumblr, I highly recommend checking it — and the show it supports — out. Whoever runs it, thanks for showcasing my work! YAY!

I believe my last entry babbled about fandom and fanart, so I suppose in a way this underlines the thesis of consistently doing artwork — no matter how fannish or self-indulgent it may be — to advertise however skilled you are at your craft. It’s the same with cooking. People can when you’ve put love into your work.

On my own part, stuff like this, or the cast liking my weird little drawings of them on Instagram, are great incentives for slightly self-conscious and self-depreciating creatives such as myself to push forward through creative blocks and what-not and make better stuff.

Orphan Black completes me, what can I say.

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Beverages of the Rich and Fictional

I just realized that nobody’s done this yet, ya know? That I know of anyway. Made something goofy related to the liquids of our favorite fictional characters. My list would be very limited, because all I watch are syndicated sci-fi shows, the occasional crime drama and Doctor Who. But a stab would be pertinatate, eh? Let’s give it a go. Starting here. And I’ll babble about the project a bit, since that’s what a blog is for.

Reasoning Being: Of course Firefly’s Browncoats would have an exceptionally awesome beer bottle. In my head, it looks more like those awesome colored glass beer bottles with the ornate, vintage label with lovely lettering that wraps around it. But everything comes out all granite-y and block when it’s run through my filters. And I’m slowly discovering that typography is not my strong suit. I’d rather just bastardize other people’s fonts. So this is the best I could do. And I’m fairly new to the fandom, so whether or not I got the sound of it right with the blurb is anybody’s guess. Pfft. It was fun, is the point.

Secret: I don’t actually know what “pale ale” is or if it is indeed a thing. It just sounds cool. *shrug*

Cameron’s was the sketch that started this, and is still my favorite inked. The Maraschino Cherry red was pulled from the eye of a Terminator, as the metaphor is that that this drink was kinda like the blood of a Terminator. The band around it was originally black, but I made it red because it’d be damn cool to have a pop or beer or whatever bottle that’s just so red you can’t take it anymore. Note the complete lack of sarsaparilla.

I’ve honestly never wanted anything I’ve designed to be real more in my whole life.

Ideally, River Tam’s wine (champagne? cognac?) of choice. Although in retrospect, she’s a mite bit young to drink. But whatever, space. The whole thing is supposed to be a tad off, much like her. If you distill a person into a liquid and bottle them — I’m being hypothetical and creepy at 2AM — you imagine what that beverage might be packaged like, and this was apparently as close as I got. I looked up her quotes (did not realize that girl barely says anything!) to incorporate her fragmented speech patterns into the label blurb. She’s a weird girl, so the weirder the better. I pulled the “V” from the weird-ass logo and made it the front of the bottle, then put what should be the main mark on the back, essentially reversing the usual order, because, as mentioned, River is weird. Thus is her wine bottle.

Heck, the bottle is probably empty.

What’s next? Does The Doctor have a favorite drink? We’ll make one. 😉

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Pissed Off Notes from the Mythological City of Themyscira

There’s this show called “Girls” which won some awards at the Emmys this year and which I’ve luckily been unable to watch because I don’t subscribe to cable. Some people I like are on it, but whatever, I don’t really care because the content of the program doesn’t appeal to me as far as shows about generational issues are concerned. I am 24 and pretty much a child of the 90ies, but I feel out of my generational loop. To be frank, I kind of think those kids are crazy.

Case in point: Girls. The latest HBO phenomenon which I proudly profess to know absolutely zilch about, other than that Lena Dunham is apparently some kind of hero now or something. I came across this article regarding the latest episode I didn’t watch, in which apparently some pretty revolting things happened to Shiri Appleby. After reading bug-eyed through the article, and even then seeing what Bitch Magazine (yes, I read that on occasion) had to say about it, I proceeded to see what the consensus was among commentators. This particular, from the THR article, struck me to think a little bit about whether or not I was being kneejerk in my reaction to the description of what transpired on the show.

“This scene revealed so much about who Adam is, who he was trying to be, and how his behavior and impulses can shut him away from other people.  Sex is an intimate act that can be simultaneously used as a way to experience closeness but at an arm’s length.  Adam routinely does this on the show, and his self-implosion was indeed a dark and sad.  It was important in expressing this about his character that we see exactly what it is he did to this poor girl, who was an innocent bystander to a complicated and troubled man’s unraveling.”

It occured to me that I could write this exact same passage in relation to a film about war featuring graphic depictions of death and gore. So in that light I’m willing to concede the commenters point. But on the other hand, what I desperately wish to know is why do we care who this asshole Adam is at all? He clearly needs therapy or a prodigious smack upside his fat head. The character is a person of inferior moral and psychological character who can apparently only feel something when he is using another human being as his own personal Kleenex tissue. Why would I bother to waste my time on a creature like that, who does not seem to want help, or particularly care for it? And as to the person who is allowing themselves to be used as his Kleenex, as to their character, I am quite sad and reluctant to speculate.

At the core, it continues to confound and disturb me that there are women  and men in existence who allow other human beings (?)  to humiliate them psychologically, without defending their dignity or putting up a fight against obvious malicious mental and physical assaults. We were created with a beautiful, bright mind capable to of so much. We were created with hands capable of balling into hard fists. We were created as individuals, with minds, souls and feelings of our own. I truly believe that we all, male and female, have the power to reach inside of our quivering mortal coil when we are faced with cretins such as are depicted on this show, and say, “SCREW YOU, ASSHOLE, GO FUCK YOURSELF.” Not very eloquent, but applicable in this, and many, cases.

I hear many voices defending Girls as an important and thoughtful narrative, and I question why…but apparently I can’t question it enough to really put the effort into watching the show.  The character repulse me. I find their lack of self-esteem bizarre and horrifying. My feathers are ruffled by the sight of sexual assault. Had I been Steig Larsson, as he so claimed, I would have kicked the raping freak of nature in his face, head and nuts instead of passing by quietly and then out of guilt, writing an amazing novel making a hero out of the victim I could have saved. That’s how I am, and unrealistically, it’s how I believe all people should be. I won’t be a bystander, I won’t be shat on and I won’t call violent or demeaning sex acts on my television meaningful or art. To borrow from my ranty Facebook post, it seems like the quest for actual, tangible intellect and knowledge of things other than the worldly world has taken a back seat while the sexual revolution — masquerading as feminism — has come simply strides in the past few decades. Feminism, as I understand it, was borne out of the desire to find equality in the workplace, in places of law and business, to transcend the kitchen and to rediscover — perhaps even re-invent — the Mother As Warrior. It seems that somewhere along the way, feminism became about burning bras, showing your tits and not getting yelled at for it. To be frank, I don’t know what feminism is supposed to be anymore, which is why I balk at labeling myself as a feminist. People assume because I advocate for female empowerment in a lot of the things I write and the art I create, that I am a feminist, But I’m not by conventional standards. I believe in psychological empowerment for women and for men, and the triumph of the spiritual, creative, literary and thoughtful woman. I don’t believe in the selfish and fluffy, carnally oriented women of Brave New World’s dystopia, I believe in the educated, brave and stalwart woman of Austen and Dickens’ novels, who transcended tragedy and despair and — for the most part, on the heroines’ parts, mainly — never lost sight of who they were. The women of Girls are the women of Brave New World, mindless in servitude to their desires, tools for the people around them, aware of the worldly but not of the world. ““Hug me till you drug me, honey; Kiss me till I’m in a coma.”

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