I've moved!

You can find my new blog here: 

laura-henriksen.squarespace.com

My old posts are there, as well as several new entries (mostly about Star Wars.)

Stages of Phone Grief

My phone broke down to the point where the repairman worked in it for free because it was “an interesting challenge.” If my phone were a patient in the ER then this would’ve been one of those “would you mind if we bring in some interns to watch?” situations.

So, I went through the stages of phone grief, but I did it in the wrong order. First came denial, So what if it randomly shuts down and won’t turn back on? Next came depression, I guess I’ll just have to live with a broken phone forever. Then bargaining, Maybe the repair guys can fix it.

(P.S. If you google “stages of g—.” Then Google will helpfully supply you with the stages of genital herpes. That’s what I get for being too lazy to spell out ‘grief.’)

You’ll notice that I skipped a step: Anger.

The new phone arrived all shiny and new. My husband knows that changes in my routine turn me into a fussy old lady who viciously attacks the landlord for telling her that she can only have eight cats in her apartment. No way am I getting rid of Mr. Snuffles.

So my husband kindly activated my phone for me and downloaded a few apps. He offered it to me like a priest throwing a sheep into an active volcano, hoping desperately that the sacrifice will placate the roiling lava monster.

No amount of sheep will fix this.

The SD card didn’t have enough room for all of my apps. The phone only does about 60% of the things I need it to do. The calendar widget isn’t showing up. My voicemail perpetually reminds me that I have messages even though the mailbox is empty. The keyboard doesn’t even let me swipe yet so I have to pound. each. individual. letter. one. by. one.

The Devil

It’s as if someone tore out all the pages to my planner, hid the books in my library, stole the pictures of my baby, and then demanded another forty bucks before they’d let me clean up the mess.

My rage is entirely disproportionate to the size of the problem. A bigger SD card will fix the problem. In a month I’ll finally finish entering my passwords into each app and confirming each account. They’ll all be neatly organized just as they once were. At that point I wouldn't want a new phone; in fact I'd probably fight you if you tried to replace it with a better one.

I’ll experience the final stage of phone grief: Acceptance.

Gods and Magic: Fast and Furious Seven

For what it was, it was perfection. Let’s overlook the lack of a sensible plot, the use of bikini-clad women as window dressing, and the fact that near the end the writers were just crossing their fingers and praying that no one would call them out for their ludicrous imaginings of a computer virus. Let’s not view this as a modern movie with the coherent restrictions that apply. View this instead as an epic in the ancient Greek style.

Unlike the earliest Fast and Furious movies, this one took the pretense of realism and jettisoned it out the cargo bay. It was absurd to the point of parodying itself. I didn’t know this going in, I asked my husband annoying questions like, “If the bad guy wants those nurses to take good care of his brother, then why did he kill everyone else in the hospital?” I finally understood the treat I was in for when The Rock grabbed the tiny blonde and shielded her with his body as the exploding building blasted them out the window where they landed safely on the hood of a car. I laughed with joy. This was not a movie about mortals and cars. This was a tale of gods and magic.

Like the ancient myths, the good guys are all handsome, powerful, and the best in the world at whatever they do. They’re larger than life characters with no limitations. Police cars and stop lights may have the power to thwart you and I, but Dom and his crew barely acknowledge them. They can solve any problem. Being chased by an evil military drone? Drive an ambulance into it. Need to escape a penthouse? Steal a car and drive it out the window of one skyscraper and into two subsequent skyscrapers.

Another major similarity to the ancient epics is the bizarre honor system. If you and I stole a car it would be a bad thing. When they did it, it was the only thing to do.

[Dom and Brian enter the Jordanian Prince's private vault and see the W Motors Lykan HyperSport]

Brian O'Conner: Do you realize what this is? Lykan HyperSport. $3.4 million, 0-60 in less than 3 seconds. There's seven of these in the world and this guy keeps it locked up in a vault.

Dominic Toretto: Nothing's sadder than locking a beast in a cage.

Brian O'Conner: I wanna punch him in the face.

So stealing the car is the just and honorable thing, everyone cheered when they took it.

Then there are the confrontations between our main hero (Dom) and the bad guy (Deckard.) Over and over they have these pointless power struggles for dominance where they play chicken in a parking garage, or Dom leaves his friends to pursue Deckard down a mountain. The most laughable of all is when Dom has a sawed off shotgun aimed at Deckard but instead of just shooting him he puts the gun down and pulls out a pair of oversized wrenches because that’s how you do it on the street. You and I probably would’ve just shot the guy. But that’s not the point. It was never about killing Deckard, it was always about showing off Dom’s prowess in battle. That’s why these movies have no real story, the fight is the story.

I wouldn’t want all of my films to be this over-the-top display of poor judgment and awesome explosions. It’s boring if the good guys are always gods. But the simplicity of it speaks to me. Every now and then I want the absurdly wonderful, men and women with limitless ability, and the belief that anything is possible if you have your crew.

Gratuitous Baby Pictures or What I Did on my Blogging Vacation

And we’re back! The blog went dark for a few months but I have a great deal to show for myself. I was busy turning this…

Into this.

Which became this.

Which grew into that.

And kept growing.

And growing.

Until I realized that I don’t have just a little lump of proto-human material. I have a tiny person with his own opinions and personality. For the purposes of this blog he is called Sweet Pea.

So I’m back to blogging but without the weekly regularity. Most of my time is currently consumed by this little guy and job hunting. Until next time!

Hiatus

Well darlings, the sad truth is that blogging takes time. Specifically, it eats up my writing time. Since I expect the birth of my first child in about eight days, writing time will soon become rare like dragon tears or unicorn blood. So I’m going to spend that writing time working on fiction because it makes me happiest.

Still, I’ll miss you. I’ll post on facebook and twitter next time I update the blog. Until then...

Best Banned Books

Happy Banned Books Week y'all! It's time to celebrate all the great stories that curmudgeons deem unsuitable for public consumption. As far as weird holidays go I'd rank this as better than Talk Like a Pirate Day but not yet at Saint Patrick's Day levels.

Last year's most frequently banned books included these gems:

2013. Reasons: Offensive language, racism, sexually explicit, unsuited for age group

This is an amazing book. 
The protagonist leaves the reservation to get a better education at the white school. Of course the book has offensive language and racism. How could it avoid that without candy coating the story? A realistic, flawed, and deeply relatable teenage boy tells the story in his own words--so of course it's sexually explicit. Adolescence is a time when we're all keenly aware and interested in sex.
Alexie  doesn't pull any punches, he lets you really get into this kid's head, which is probably why this book is banned.  Whenever someone writes about what it's really like to be a teenager, the book is always deemed "unsuited for age group."

2013. Reasons: Religious viewpoint, unsuited to age group

I haven't read this series in a while, so I can't recall why someone might have a religious objection to it. However, I can understand why some find this series unsuitable for children. There's the whole "I don't support children killing children" point of view and I respect that. However, I think this book is valuable for young readers. Lots of books play on our fear of death, this book asks us to think about how we'd feel if we were asked to kill. You might survive the hunger games, but think of the terrible things you'd have to do. The violence itself is as frightening and repugnant as death. Ultimately, the protagonist wins through a subversive act of pacifism. 

Sadly, I haven't read the other banned books of 2013 so I can't vouch for their excellence. However, I will mention a few more great books. All of these were in the top ten most frequently challenged for their year.

2012. Reasons: Homosexuality, offensive language, religious viewpoint, sexually explicit

2011. Reasons: insensitivity; nudity; racism; religious viewpoint; sexually explicit. 

You know it's a great book when it's decades old and people are still angry about it.

2011. Reasons: offensive language; racism

When you ban an anti-racism book for racism you are missing the point.

2007. Reason: racism

2007. Reason: sexually explicit

2003. Reasons: occult/Satanism

Each of these books have made me a better person. Each of them has taught me something valuable. I think that the reason why so many people dislike these books can best be explained by Gloria Steinem "The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off."

Happy Banned Books Week everyone. 

Everything I Know About Pregnancy I Learned from Television

Most of what I knew about pregnancy came from television and movies. I never believed that I would one day be an actual adult in an actual marriage having actual babies so I didn’t make an effort to educate myself. However, I was always a media-savvy kid so I picked up quite a bit about the miracle of life through pop culture. There are three ways this can go down.

 Totes Adorbs Comedy

 We start with our protagonist vomiting into the toilet. In the next scene we jump to footage of the woman putting her hand over her stomach as the mystical realization dawns on her I’m going to be a mother. This pregnancy will no doubt come as a complete shock, maybe she never wanted kids, but eventually she rallies and decide that she’s up to the challenge.

Then it’s time to tell the partner. He’s probably a boyfriend who’s not sure if he’s ready for the responsibility/ a loving husband who will probably die. If the woman doesn’t have a suitable partner at the beginning of the film she’ll find one by the end because movies aimed at women MUST include a romantic arc. Nevermind that she’s uncomfortable and grumpy and doesn’t have time to pursue a relationship, somehow she  finds true love.

Pregnancy romance is a real genre. People buy these books. On purpose.

This partner frets constantly about her health while making a 2AM grocery trip to buy bizarre combinations of junk food. By now the film has skipped straight to the dramatic third trimester so they can show her being huge and “cute.” Also, the audience learns of a major event looming on the horizon like a big business meeting or an emotionally fraught family reunion. If there is no such event foreshadowed then you can expect someone to die, emphasizing the connection between birth and death.

The woman attends a birthing class, hijinks ensue. Something trivial like a mistaken coffee order will make her completely lose it in public. Her personal and professional relationships start to unravel.

Never fear, the big foreshadowed event arrives and it’s her chance to fix whatever’s broken in her life. But oh no! Her water broke at the worst possible moment.  Her loved ones gather around her and whisk her off to the hospital and all is forgiven.

The delivery itself features glass shattering screams and demonic moans. She will inevitably yell to her partner “You did this to me!”  She carries on until every girl in the audience vows to never bear children.

Then it’s over! a beautiful, clean, three month old baby is placed in the mother’s arms. In that tender moment her personal and plot conflicts are all resolved as she realizes that her life will never be the same again. Having a baby fixes everything. Roll credits.

So that’s the happy and normal portrayal of pregnancy and birth. Cutesy and totally disconnected from reality, but at least it puts a positive spin on things. At least it’s not…

Gritty and Inspirational

 The expectant mother is probably a teenager, or homeless, or dating an abusive drug addict. Either way she’s in trouble. Her partner kicks her out, her family provides zero help, but she may have some helpful girlfriends to give sassy-yet-insightful advice.

 She decides not to have an abortion because then we don’t have our inspirational pregnancy story. She considers adoption, but the writers want this to be super-extra inspiring so the woman decides against all odds that she’s keeping her baby. She doesn’t have a steady job or access to childcare but all she needs is love. Lucky for her, this is a movie.

At first she struggles to survive on the streets. The audience sees her gradually make some responsible choices like talking with a social worker or interviewing for minimum wage jobs. Heart wrenching setbacks precede heroic efforts until she’s almost cobbled together a stable life for her unborn child. But wait! At the last moment her sure-thing-perfect job falls through and now the social worker can’t help her.

Now that everything is awful again the woman gives birth. Screams, drama, pain...really emphasize that pain. Once again the beautiful, clean, three month old baby is placed in her arms. Help comes from an unexpected quarter and fixes her financial problems. Everything is going to be ok and she knows that her life has been changed forever. The end.

 While that pregnancy story is terrible, it’s nothing compared to…

Mystical Pregnancy in Speculative Fiction

The chosen hero foretold in prophecy ain’t gonna gestate himself. The woman likely got pregnant through magic, mad science, or midichlorians. If not then the father is royalty or has some supernatural power. Occasionally that supernatural father is literally the devil, setting up the story for some demon baby horror.

If the “father” is human or some benevolent force then the woman will probably struggle through a long and difficult pregnancy all alone and gives birth to our hero in the desert. If she doesn’t die tragically in childbirth then she’ll probably kick the bucket early in her son’s lifetime so that he can be raised by monks or wizards.

If the “father” is essentially evil then lookout. The pregnancy itself might take only a few days, giving the woman no time to prepare for her precious bundle of supernatural joy. If the baby is evil then the heroes kill it, if it’s benign then a plot device will come and make it disappear.  Either way the whole process of pregnancy and birth will be disgusting, life-threatening, and completely out of the woman’s control. Not to worry though, this is just a throw-away episode, next time we see her she’s recovered emotionally and her abs and flat once more. 

Well...that’s a special kind of awful.

My Reality

Obviously some pregnancy stories are better than others. Yet even the over-the-top saccharine  comedies show pregnancy as this out of control experience that ends in unbelievable pain. It’s something that happens to women, not something that women do. It’s a small but significant difference. When you do something you have power. When something happens to you then you’re just a passive victim of biology. Sorry honey, take it up with God.

But that’s a lie.

My pregnancy is so much better than expected. Yes. I’m unusually emotional, desperately tired, and ravenously hungry. But I chose this. I’m in charge of this process. When I watch real-life birthing videos I see women who are doing something that hurts, something hard. But they’re doing it. The action comes from strength not helplessness. 

This isn’t an endorsement of natural childbirth, and it isn’t a condemnation of Hollywood. It’s just a reminder that pregnancy is like the rest of life--so much better than television told us it would be.

sources:

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/PregnancyTropes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rhH_QGXtgQ

Keeping Score and Falling Behind

I like to keep score and I like to win. None of this “we’re all winners,” or “I’ll just give you that point,” or “hey, go easy on the kid he’s only six years old,” nonsense. I like to win.

This used to be true of relationships. I kept a mental scoreboard of nice things I’d done for people. When I was ahead on friend points I felt secure, when I fell behind I got anxious. I got into relationships with guys just because they really really liked me and that meant that I wouldn’t have to exhaust myself making them happy. (For a complete list of reasons why I spent years dating guys I didn’t like see appendix A.) When friends celebrated my birthday I’d always think “how the heck am I supposed to top this for their birthday?”

But of course I outgrew this neurotic unhealthy relationship style because I’m a mature and well-adjusted adult. When my friends volunteered to throw me a baby shower I barely even considered faking my own death.

Like I said, I was pretty much over this. Until I turned into the pathetic sad sack that is Pregnancy Laura. My new desire to sit listlessly on the couch staring at my own hands for hours severely limits my ability to keep up. I lack the ability to earn “friend points” and I’m constantly cashing them in. I burn through points when I skip social events, doze off during conversations, talk about myself too much etc. Mostly I tell myself that it’s not a big deal, my friends understand. And there’s the sneaky voice in my head that whispers “you’ll catch up on points later.”

Then there’s my husband Shane. I rely on him entirely. If it weren’t for him I’d be eating microwave dinners every evening. Dishes would never get done. I’d stay up late at night just sitting around thinking about how sleepy I am. He is constantly taking care of me and it makes me feel sick and worried like a shopping addict with major credit card debt.

I got home from work one evening and he’d already made dinner. He told me to take a nap and then he made cookies for my book group because he knew that otherwise I would run around the kitchen in a pointless exhausting frenzy. I tried to think of how I could possibly repay him and I came up with absolutely nothing.

It was liberating. 

I couldn’t do anything but say thank you and he knew it. Giving a backrub, running an errand for him, watching a movie he picked--none of that was going to happen in the near future. He did me a favor knowing that I couldn’t repay him. He didn’t expect repayment. He just wanted me happy.

I remembered why keeping score is selfish. Instead of giving genuine kindness I tried to settle an imaginary score. I projected my insecurities onto others and underestimated their motivations. People in my life are amazing and I can rely on them to stay amazing even when I’m tired or grumpy or antisocial.

I don’t have to score points. I won when I found a husband and friends who just want me to be happy.

So you want to watch Doctor Who?

So your friends are geeking out about the new season of Doctor Who. They insist that you have to see it but the show looks strange and confusing. On top of that you’re not even sure where to start. That’s where this handy guide comes in.

Before we begin you should know a little about what you’re getting into. Doctor Who started in the sixties as a television series about a time traveling alien who liked to bring human companions along in his spaceship for shenanigans. The alien is called the Doctor, his spaceship is a blue police box called the TARDIS, and his species is time lord.

This is exactly the sort of shenanigan you can expect.

Instead of dying like humans do, time lords regenerate (code for turns into a new actor.) So when people talk about their favorite doctor they’re really talking about their favorite actor. The old Doctor Who that ran from 1963-1989 had eight Doctors. The series rebooted in 2005 and picked up with the Ninth Doctor. (For a list of the series in order visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Doctor_Who_serials)

Since you don’t want to start watching in the middle of a storyline, it’s best to start with a new regeneration. Most storylines wrap up when one actor leaves and a new actor takes his place. Often the human companions stay the same for a season or two to help the audience transition to a new Doctor. Each actor brings different characteristics to the role and the writers frequently change so if you don’t like one Doctor you should still give the next one a try. Despite these changes remember that the Doctor is always the same man.

Option 1: The Ninth Doctor, Season 1 Episode 1 “Rose.”

If you’re patient and you don’t mind cheesiness then start with the 2005 reboot. I didn’t like it at first because...well...it’s strange. Now I love it the way a mother loves an ugly child, but at the time I arched an eyebrow and shook my head while silently mouthing “no.” By the time I made it to the third episode I found myself strangely entranced. It’s a show with plot holes big enough to drive a monster truck through, the CGI is ridiculous, and the bad guys are just robots with toilet plungers for arms. Yet there’s this touching optimism to it. Underlying every episode is the belief that humans are extraordinary, each of us is capable of heroism, and that we are worth fighting for. So give this season a fair chance.

Intellect and romance over brute force and cynicism--that the Ninth Doctor in a nutshell.

Option 2: The Tenth Doctor, Christmas Special “The Christmas Invasion.”

This is my favorite Doctor. He’s simultaneously goofy and dramatic. His seasons are unskippable. If you just can’t make it through the Ninth Doctor then this is a good place to start. It’s less cheesy, and the adventures are just cool, and funny, and sad, and all the emotions at once. If you suspend your disbelief you will go on a journey my friend.

Just roll with it

When I was going through a rough time with some medical issues I rewatched all of the Tenth Doctor’s episodes. I don’t watch a lot of television so it took me months to get through them. It did exactly what you want television to do: distract you for a short time and leave you genuinely happier than you were before. I credit the Tenth Doctor with dispelling much of the gloom that I was carrying around with me then.

Wedding or no wedding we have to save the world!

Option 3: The Eleventh Doctor, Season 5 Episode 1 “The Eleventh Hour.”

The Eleventh doctor is dapper.

Maybe you’re not interested in watching the whole series. Maybe you just want to catch up on the most recent Doctor. That’s fine. As always you can just start with a new doctor, blank slate. It’s a tone shift from the previous seasons since they have a new head writer. The optimism is still there, but there are fewer happy endings. It’s also the least cheesy and the plots are a bit tighter. So even if Nine and Ten weren’t your style you should still give Eleven a shot.

Charming and scary all at once.

Option 4: The First Doctor, Season 1 Episode 1, “An Unearthly Child.”

This one is for crazy completionists. It starts in the 60’s, the show is still in black and white, some of the episodes are lost, and Netflix plays them all out of order. If you absolutely love the show then go ahead and go back to the very beginning of Doctor Who, but I don’t recommend starting here.

Option 5: The Twelfth Doctor, Season 8 Episode 1, “Deep Breath”

This doctor seems a touch darker.

It premiers on August 23rd, 2014. We saw a glimpse of this Doctor during the big fiftieth anniversary episode, but he still remains a mystery. We know that this Doctor is older, less goofy, probably a bit darker. I’m excited to see a new Doctor, but it always takes me a few episodes to accept that this is really him.

This is an excellent place to start, you’ll be current, you can talk about it with your friends, and you can always go back and watch the older series later if you wish.

Whatever you choose, go in with the expectation that it will slowly make you a happier person.

Guardians of the Galaxy

I did it. I actually saw a movie on opening weekend. To celebrate my trendy, cutting-edge pop culture sensibilities I present to you the following movie review. You’re welcome.

It was just fun.  Peter Quill/Star-Lord doesn't carry all the baggage of an A-list superhero so he's free to be goofy, charming, and kind of almost inspirational. Everyone in his team of misfits felt like a real person, including the giant tree and the talking squirrel.

The plot never took itself too seriously and it stayed easy to follow without being simplistic. The soundtrack played a major role in the story and it was perfection. The dialogue was immediately quotable: “Metaphors would go right over his head.” “Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast.”

Guardians of the Galaxy gave me everything I hoped it would. In the end I didn't even care that characters could survive briefly in space by wearing a special space mask. I didn't care that they gave us one token female with frequent shots of her butt. I didn't care that about the underdeveloped bad guy and his inefficient scheme to destroy a planet. I just enjoyed myself and let Marvel Comics charm me with this clever, goofy, and surprisingly tender action movie.

P.S. I saw the poster for LUCY. The "fact" about humans only using 10% of our brains made me froth at the mouth. OH MY GOODNESS just point to a part of the brain and I will tell you what we're using it for. It's not like 90% of the brain is just sitting there all limp and useless. You know this, and I know this, so why do writers feel like they can base a movie around this myth?

Trampoline Trauma

Once upon a time my parents bought a trampoline. It was a magical fun machine akin to a slip and slide or a zip line. I told the other first graders about it and they were all jealous (except for Amanda who claimed to own a trampoline and a playground and a horse.)

A visual approximation of Amanda's house
Photo Credit

As with all magical fun machines, grown ups felt the need to set down some rules governing its use. No frontflips, no backflips, no shoes, only one person at a time, always use the ladder to exit, and stay inside the circle. The circle was a white line my father spray painted onto the canvas to ensure that his children only jumped within the inner 50% of the trampoline.

When I mention these rules to people they give me quizzical looks. They all had carefree childhood memories of bouncing with friends and getting elbowed in the face by larger relatives. One lady shrugged her shoulders and told me “it’s a good way to lose your baby teeth.” My bubble-wrapped childhood seemed bizarre by comparison.

“Why all the rules?”

Because trampolines are bouncy reapers waiting to claim reckless children. I’m only half joking. Google “trampoline statistics” and you’ll find alarmed parents and pediatricians discussing the tens of thousands of trampoline-related emergency room visits per year.

Yessssss. Send your children to a bouncy death.
Photo Credit

“Did you actually follow these rules?”

My parents fired my favorite babysitter because she let us jump two at a time. I didn’t dare speculate what they’d do to me if they caught me attempting a flip. I didn’t even know how to do a flip. My lack of physical coordination rendered that a moot point.

“Did you even use the trampoline once they’d sucked all the fun out of it?”

Kind of. I’d bounce on it a bit, then I’d get bored and stare up at the sky. Then I’d bounce some more. Then I’d go get a book and read on the trampoline. Since my only option was “jump up and down in a small circle,” I probably spent as much time reading there as I did jumping. Still, the jumping part was fun.

Nets and other trampoline protections weaken the moral fiber of our children
Photo Credit

“Don’t you think your parents were being paranoid?”

Under different circumstances you could call my parents paranoid. But let’s not forget that they’re my parents. Already they’d witnessed me nearly blind myself at a public pool, and then accidentally chop my thumb off (as in no longer attached to my body) at the optometrist’s office. I’ve suffered from self inflicted stab wounds, I once lodged a staple inside my finger, and the less we say about my bike riding instruction the better.  I was the Mozart of unexpected injuries, I was a friggin child prodigy.

But with all these rules, surely I’d be safe from trampoline trauma. Nope. One day I watched my older sister jump off instead of using the ladder to get down, a clear violation of rule number five. I immediately tried it and I landed crooked on my left arm. It hurt, but I expected that. When the pain didn’t wear off I went to bed for a few hours until my Mom noticed that something was wrong and took me to the hospital.

You guessed it. It was my first rule violation and I ended up with a broken arm. So the story has two morals, take your pick.

1. No amount of rules will keep your kids safe so they might as well have fun.

2. There is no such thing as paranoid when you have me for a daughter.