exbex

on the subject of my uterus

2018-12-24T06:29:54Z

The irony of my life:

Me: I’m 37 years old, I refuse to go back on birth control, and I give zero fucks if I my increasingly ridiculous periods cause me to bleed through my pants. The world can just fucking deal with the reality that women menstruate.

My doctor, literally two months later: Your biopsy indicates that you have precancerous cells in your uterus. If you want to have children, we can put you on progesterone and do another biopsy in a few months, but I recommend a hysterectomy.

Me, literally four seconds later: So long Betsy. Like your namesake, you are worthless, an interminable presence, and have been weighed in the balances and found wanting. Unlike your namesake, you will actually be removed. Go into the light.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

on school shootings

2018-03-10T04:55:10Z

Twelve years ago, when I began my teaching career, it occurred to me that what I need most from society, in particular the parents of the students I teach, is that they love their children more than I love their children.
It’s quite simple, really. There is only so much I can do, seeing as I only see any one child for, on average, one hour a day. Hence, as much as I love my students (and I do, as love is very much a verb), it’s imperative that parents love their children more.

So today I’m sitting in what’s called Active Shooter Training. Some of the ideas presented were fairly logical and reasonable, and others struck me as being faintly ridiculous. But what struck me the most is that there may be some tacit assumption that teachers, as a general rule, are willing to die for their students.

Twelve years ago, I believed that I would die for any student. Now, I can say with certainty that I would not. I am no less passionate than I was twelve years ago, and I am definitely better at teaching and even at caring about my students than I was twelve years ago. But I need the adults in this country to care about their children more than I do. And as long as there’s resistance to even a modicum of gun control, the message to me is loud and clear: it’s okay to sacrifice our children for the privilege of having access to not only handguns and hunting rifles, but to guns that are explicitly designed to kill other human beings. And why shouldn’t I follow the rest of the country’s lead?

A colleague of mine made an important point today. The call to arm teachers is the height of hypocrisy in this nation. The majority of school shooters are students themselves. This means that, if teachers were to be armed, we would also be expected to be willing to shoot one of our own current or former students. My fellow American citizens, if you think that teachers should be armed in order to potentially take down a school shooter, take a good hard look in the mirror, because you are asking us to protect your own children, but are you also asking us to kill your children if they are the ones who make the decision to pick up a gun?

rough and random

2018-01-21T21:54:17Z

The sun doesn’t set over Alaska in late June. The fact that I managed to forget about this bit of scientific and geographical trivia until after I’d landed in Anchorage, hailed a cab, and lingered over a coke and fries until nearly midnight makes for an amusing anecdote. When I tell the story, I include my excitement over landing in Denver several days later and being able to look into the sky and find my old friend the moon.

At the time, I thought that my joy over clear night skies in Denver was a result of nights spent drawing the curtains of my hotel room, forcing myself to turn down the bedcovers, close my eyes, and remind myself not to be fooled by the constant presence of the light, lest I be surprised by exhaustion. But I’ve come to realize that the source of my joy is the moments I was fortunate enough to spend gazing on Denali. Maybe five percent of the many tourists who he spoke to, I’d been told by a local man, got a good look at the mountain that was so high that it makes its own weather. I hadn’t let on that I suspected that he was feeding me a bit of a line to make me feel good, help me justify spending so much money on a vacation. I was forced to swallow these unspoken thoughts not two hours later, when smoke from some distant forest fire not only obscured the sight of the mountain, but made it seem as if some clever magician had made it disappear completely.

The mountain and the moon have been present long before I was cobbled into existence, and will continue long after I’m gone. It’s a thought that’s as wistful as it is comforting.

Is it their presence that I take for granted, or my own?

**

In British Columbia, bears seem nearly as common as squirrels, and they seemed unfazed at the presence of humans, barely giving me a passing glance as I carefully maneuvered my rented car around them.

They’re cute, and it’s no wonder that their image is copied onto a children’s toy.

They’re also frightening, not just in their ability to kill me, but the way their presence reminds me that I’m not only a guest in their territory, but that my very presence on this planet is temporary.

**

I hear the waterfall before I see it. I have a pamphlet that tells me that I’m walking towards the rim. I barely have time to catch my breath before I leave the thicket and see it and am reminded of how small I really am.

**

Traveling hasn’t been an easy dream to achieve, and by the time my bank accounts are willing to loosen up enough to allow it, any romantic notions of sparse hostels are gone, and my days of summer camp and sleeping next to fires are relegated firmly to nostalgic memories, my thirty-something body winning the fight between my desire to be thrifty and my desire to be free of sore muscles. And yet here I am, having bypassed the more luxurious lodgings of several ski resort towns for a humble motel. In a way it feels like I’m returning to something.

I don’t know why I pick up the Bible from the bedside table. It’s just like the thousands of others that reside in rooms all across the U.S. I am no longer devout like I once was, my diminished faith now something I don’t know how to untangle, and I seldom feel a desire to work at the knot. There are memories in my fingers as I flip through the pages, though, and I let myself feel a sense of loss that I often try desperately to ignore.

**

The sign says that Tibrogargan Summit is recommended for experienced climbers only. Next to the warning, someone has graffitied “Lol.” I don’t know if it’s a scoff or a certain self-deprecating admission, but I know my limits: I am a hiker, not a mountain climber, and I set out for the six kilometer trail at a comfortable pace.

Hours later, the muscles in my back and legs chide me, loudly and insistently, reminding me of my age, my obesity, and my lack of athleticism.

I chew some aspirin and ignore them, doing it all again the next day.
The effects of the hikes linger for a week after I return home, exacerbated by twenty hours on an airplane and jetlag, but I never have a moment of questioning whether it was worth it, not because of the scenery, or even the symbolic “bucket list” trip I’ve crossed off, but because I had ignored every anxiety to travel to the other side of the planet by myself.

When I look at the picture I’d snapped of the graffitied “Lol,” I give a wry smile every time. Fearlessness is overrated.

**

There’s a cliché that I’ve repeated to myself my entire life: Don’t make mountains out of mole hills. It seems appropriate to flip the cliché and remind ourselves not to make mole hills out of mountains, but we don’t. It doesn’t take much imagination to decipher why.

The beginning of the end of my excursion across British Columbia involves driving over a mountain and down, down, down into the Bella Coola Valley. It involves maneuvering around black bears and hairpin turns that seem to never end. My hands grip the steering wheel, and my mind screams for an end, and yet I still catch glimpses of the beauty that surrounds me.

I’m mentally worn when I stroll (at least, that’s what I think it looks like. Psychologically, it feels like a stagger) into the charming inn at the end of town. “Did you come in on the ferry?” the receptionist asks. When I reply that I drove in, she asks, without a hint of irony, “How did you like The Hill?” I had spent my time on airplanes and in laundry mats during this vacation reading a trilogy about an alien apocalypse, so my immediate thought is that British Columbians will be the last to fall if such an event ever occurs. A zombie apocalypse would do them in, what with the ferry, but the residents of the westernmost province of Canada, who enjoy such an understatement, who seem to be fond of guns, and who are completely nonplussed at the sight of bears, are made of tough enough fabric to withstand the End.

My two days in the valley leave me with a sense of unease. I had felt small, looking at the vast waterfalls and encountering some of the planet’s fiercest predators, but being at sea level but surrounded by mountains leaves me with an almost claustrophobic feeling. Two days pass before I have to ascend The Hill in my tiny rental car. It’s a long, silent drive back to Williams Lake, and even a decade of living in Wyoming has not prepared me for the sense of solitude I feel, and six hours of mulling it over and over in my mind doesn’t yield any of the answers I’m seeking.

A year passes before I finally realize that it’s not the fear, but the speed, the way life doesn’t allow for enough time to catch one’s breath.

**

Prince Edward Island is a tiny plot of land off the East Coast of Canada, cut off by geography but connected, too, by bridges built by human hands and machines. It seems a less obvious choice after venturing to Alaska and Australia, but the pull I feel is almost tangible, though my familiarity and knowledge is nearly nonexistent, a vague picture formed by memories of literature I’d read in childhood.

When I spoon clam chowder while staring out at the waves breaking on the shore, I feel serenity. When I travel inland and gaze on rivers and lush greenery, I feel a sense of home, the red soil of the beaches the only stark reminder that I’m close to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean rather than Lake Michigan. I can make my way across the province in a matter of hours, not days. I had thought I’d grown to prefer mountains that carry me far above and give me a sense that I can almost touch the sky, thought I’d fallen in love with acres and acres of prairie that let me see for long miles. But there’s a refuge here, even as the ocean has never beckoned me.

on anthems and irony

2017-09-29T02:05:15Z

Irony is a difficult concept to teach. When I present the concept to students, I define it as what happens when the reality (or truth) is right in front of someone but he, she, they are unable to see it. Students struggle with this definition, so I often add another definition, that of irony being the opposite of what is expected occurring.

Students still struggle with it. They can’t really be blamed for it, seeing as it’s a concept that is lost on so many people who are far older than they.

There are those in the country of which I am a citizen who are clutching their pearls so tightly that their fingers are bleeding. And all of this over a scrap of cloth. Perhaps I am being undiplomatic, but it strikes me as being the perfect example of irony, the kind of irony that is most important but perhaps most difficult to understand, that of being unable to see a reality that is right in front of us.

Taking a knee, raising a fist, or remaining seated during the playing of the U.S. national anthem has drawn vitriolic criticism, the kind that has me raising an eyebrow because, as far as I know, none of these athletes has taken a match to the flag. Yet, there are those who have taken to burning the jerseys of certain NFL players in their own form of protest.

For a moment, my eyes just rolled at the news that His Fraudulency had taken to Twitter and ranted about the protests in the NFL and the NBA. Couldn’t people see, I wondered, that this was nothing but a distraction from real issues? And how can people be so angry that a certain NHL team is taking the obsequious route? I’d have to be angry to be surprised, and it’s not so surprising that a sport that is 93% white would treat this type of controversy as if it were radioactive. (And, if I’m being painfully honest, I too have bitten my tongue and fallen in line to ensure my own job security). But then I learned I could still be surprised at the words that His Fraudulency uses (and that is an irony that I really shouldn’t be caught by).

It’s not simply the fact that His Fraudulency used words that are blatantly misogynistic. It is not simply the fact that His Fraudulency is over-stepping his bounds by calling for the firing of players who protest (is anyone entitled to a job as a professional athlete? No. Are they entitled to exercise their First Amendment rights? Yes.) It is the irony of those who cry out that the flag and the armed forces and the country are being blatantly disrespected, but who do not condemn the man who used language that violated the dignity of the presidency and blatantly insulted and degraded citizens of the United States, the man who refused to call white supremacists what they are, but who used degrading language towards those who exercised rights guaranteed to them as American citizens.

For nine years I taught in a school in which the Pledge of Allegiance was recited on a daily basis. The day of the Sandy Hook massacre was the last time I recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Occasionally, students would ask why I wouldn’t recite. I would only reply that I had my reasons that I didn’t wish to share. I deflected because I was afraid my anger would spill over.

In the ensuing years, I have studied the history of education, read about how the Pledge of Allegiance was used to indoctrinate children who had been ripped away from their families and forced into boarding schools, all in an effort to “kill the Indian and save the man.” And I thought my anger was threatening to spill over, erupt and burn me from the inside out.

It’s only been in the past few days that I’ve been able to see the truth. And I can’t speak for those who are choosing to protest, but I suspect that they, like me, are not the petulant fools taken over by anger and resentment that some would think they are.

If they’re anything like me they’re unable to stand because their hearts are broken in pieces before them, pierced through and shattered because of the lies we were told all our lives.

sometimes anger feels like an orgasm, tastes like chocolate and salted caramel

2017-09-27T01:34:33Z

You’re disgusted by the thought
Of the blood between my thighs.

You curl your lip and
shame me at the sight.

But now I know
You hate the thought
that a woman can bleed absent the strike
of your hand.

So lost in your contempt that
when you recoil you forget
you have no teeth with which to strike.

teaching high school...

2017-08-25T05:23:31Z

It’s the third day of school, and in comes a grumpy student who was working her crap minimum wage lunchmeat slinging job until 2 AM. I wonder aloud if this is legal. Other students indicate that it is, for anyone who is sixteen or older (my research indicates that this is true, not surprising considering that I live in one of the more ridiculous of the fifty embarassments). I then begin a mini-rant about how this country seems to have forgotten the efforts of the last 100 years (twas mild, of course, considering the stupidity of approximately fifty percent of the registered voters in this country). Then one of my students interjects, and before I get to her spot-on comment, let me first say that this was a student who came into the alternative school where I work lacking in confidence about her academic abilities a year ago. But anyway, she’s all “It’s not that people have forgotten, Ms. _______, it’s that employers don’t care about people,” and I’m all Merry Christmas in August.

brothers...

2017-08-03T20:51:22Z

I have a tendency to agree with Louden Wainwright:

A brother needs a sister
To watch what he can do,
To protect and to torture,
To boss around—it's true
But a brother will defend her
For a sister's love is pure,
Because she thinks he's wonderful
When he is not so sure.

Although I noticed he doesn't include the sister's perspective in the lyrics. If nothing else, brothers are good for comedy gold:

Me: I very nearly stepped on a praying mantis a few minutes ago.

My brother: Well, it was probably praying that you wouldn't step on it.

exbex @ 2017-06-18T20:22:00

2017-06-19T02:22:44Z

So the single greatest joke (most satirical, best pun ever) is not reaching enough people. This is from Vine Deloria Jr’s book, Custer Died for Your Sins.

Popovi Da, the great Pueblo artist, was quizzed one day on why the Indians were the first ones on this continent. “We had reservations,” was his reply.

Right on this joke’s heels, in second place (from the same book):

During the 1964 elections Indians were talking in Arizona about the relative positions of the two candidates, Johnson and Coldwater. A white man told them to forget about domestic policies and concentrate on the foreign policies of the two men. One Indian looked at him coldly and said that from the Indian point of view it was all foreign policy.

Shakespeare couldn’t reach such levels, y’all.

exbex @ 2017-06-05T12:32:00

2017-06-05T18:32:21Z

It's been 24 hrs since I watched Wonder Woman and my bisexual, feminist ass hasn't yet recovered. *smokes metaphorical cigarette*

books meme

2017-06-04T07:34:25Z

1. Hardback or paperback? This really depends on the book. I’d say what’s more important is the size of the book and the purpose. For instance, why were my science textbooks in college printed on high quality paper when that stuff is frequently updated while my English anthologies, containing works of literature that, y’know, don’t change, printed on cheap paper? I mean, we know why, but still…

2. Borrow or buy? Borrow usually, but cheap ebooks have made it more likely that I’ll buy.

3. Fantasy or sci-fi? Sci-fi

4. Love-triangle or love at first sight? Yeah, fanfiction has raised the bar, so really? Neither.

5. Wall shelves or bookcases? I’m such a slob that I don’t have either.

6. Bad plot with good characters or good plot with bad characters? Well, if one is really good it can make me forgive the other being neglected, but if the characters aren’t at least relate-able, I’m likely to abandon the story.

7. Harry Potter or Percy Jackson? I’ve only read Harry Potter

8. Booklr or bookstagram? Well, what is with these newfangled contraptions?

9. Contemporaries or fantasy? Contemporaries

10. English books or books in your native language? Generally English, as English happens to be my first language. However, sometimes a book in French is easier to understand than a book in English, as is the case with Discovering Statistics Using IBM SPSS Statistics.

11. Buy in a bookshop or buy online? Online, because I live about 100 miles from a bookshop. Also, online offers almost everything either used or in ebook form, which tends to be less expensive.

12. Amazon or Book Depository? The internet tells me that Amazon has eaten Book Depository. I am such a whore to capitalism that I didn’t even know.

13. Buy because of the cover or because of the description? Description, always. The cover can be a good hook, but does not seal the deal.

14. Alphabetical shelves or colour coordinated? If I had shelves, it would be by genre or size.

15. different sized books or matching sizes? Different sized

16. Wait to marathon a series or read as they’re released? Usually read as they’re released

17. Movie or tv adaptations? Usually neither.

18. Zombies or vampires? I am burned out on both of these, though seeing a unique spin on one can pull me in.

19. Reading indoors or outdoors? Indoors.

20. Coffee or tea? Yes.

21. Bookmarks or random objects to mark your page? Random objects.

22. Dog-earing or bookmarks? Bookmarks

23. Be your favourite character or be their best friend? I don’t usually play favorites.

24. Physical or e-book? Increasingly ebooks, because they are often cheaper, are in my hands in literal seconds, take up less space in a carry-on, and don’t get lost in my house. This is especially good when it comes to textbooks. The major drawback is that it’s much more annoying to “flip through” an ebook, especially if I’m trying to find notes for class.

25. Read in bed or on a chair? On a chair. I can’t get into a comfortable position reading in bed. I also just prefer to keep the bed for two purposes, neither of which is reading.

26. Audiobook or ebook? This is a strange choice because they have different purposes to me. Audiobooks are for driving or if one isn’t into reading or has some difficulty/disability. I love reading, don’t have a visual disability, and don’t spend a lot of time driving on long-distance trips, so ebooks.

27. Series or stand-alones? If I have to choose, I’ll choose stand-alones. I read series as well though.

28. Reading in the winter or reading in the summer? I read year-round.

Fyi

2017-04-13T04:40:01Z

I've been on dreamwidth for years. exbex.dreamwidth.org. hmu if you'd like. I don't know how much posting i'll be doing in either place, but itspossible that my dw will become themore active of the two

in the interest of full disclosure...

2017-04-04T04:41:22Z

apropos of nothing

Your fave (exbex) is problematic:

·        Has a tentacle fetish
·        And a rape fetish
·        Is still not vegan
·        Is white (you think I’m being facetious, but I’m not. White people are the worst)
·        Is not anti-capitalist
·        Puts anti-vaxxers into the same category as fascists (that category being “people who need to be put into outer space to fend for themselves”)
·        Is a public school teacher who only apologizes for the failures of the public school system about 8% of the time
·        Has a student who despises the word “moist.” Has explained to this student the concept of word aversion, assured student that it’s totally normal and that the word “moist” is at the top of the list of words that people have aversions to, then proceeded to spend an entire day saying the word “moist” whenever this student was in earshot (which was a lot, because she currently teaches in an alternative high school that only has about 30 students and small space) and laughed maniacally afterwards
·        Cares as much about making money as she does about teaching students
·        Is a grey asexual who thinks people who aren’t asexual are weak, while simultaneously objectifying whatever celebrity crush she’s chosen for the current decade during her daily fantasies

Devotion (“I Am on the Battlefield for My Lord”) by Cortney Lamar Charleston

2017-03-10T21:33:19Z

Devotion (“I Am on the Battlefield for My Lord”) by Cortney Lamar Charleston

failing or succeeding at self care?

2017-01-29T23:31:09Z

Possibly humorous, possibly just TMI:

There is a knot beneath my shoulder blade that hurts so much that I actually used my "back massager" as a back massager this morning.

Still worked better as an analgesic when I used it to masturbate.

reflection time

2017-01-10T04:20:12Z

Two things I think I’ve known for a long time and have been implementing, but just haven’t been able to articulate before now/two things that I need to re-learn frequently (perhaps developing knowledge is not such a linear process):

1) The Ugly Duckling Trope is very present in my current fandom. It’s literally part of the second protagonist’s story, peripherally. It’s a webcomic but these drawn characters are absurdly good-looking. Even the ones that are supposed to be more average looking are ridiculously hot. I have nearly dropped this fandom because I want to grind my teeth because look, some of us, such as your’s truly, just start out ugly and stay that way forever and why do I have to be reminded of it at every turn?

You know where this is going, don’t you? The reality, which has been so present for so long it has become something familiar, the one that has fallen from my own lips as I’m lecturing my students, suddenly becomes clear to me, even though it’s been sitting in the corner of my house forever: Everyone Thinks They’re the Ugly One and none of us are that objective. That’s why it’s such a trope.

2) Every time I feel the inclination to compare myself to someone, or be jealous of him/her/them, I should instead try to mold it into admiration and inspiration (and perhaps combine forces to maximize mutual awesomeness). Particularly when comparing/measuring myself to other women (as far as the way we look), I will remind myself that my secondary sexuality is bisexuality, so that admiration can turn into enjoying (but not in a creepy, objectifying way).

EOY meme

2016-12-31T17:51:19Z

I done stole this from spencer5460

1. Where did you begin 2016? At home.

2. Did you have to go to the hospital? No.

3. Did you have any encounters with the police? Yes. But as I am white and female it was only mildly embarrassing instead of being terrifying. The cemetery in my town is a popular place for walkers (not zombies, but people who like to get exercise via walking), and in the middle of July, I prefer to walk at 2:00 AM. (Because it’s hot AF). Well, apparently the cemetery closes at midnight, so I got caught, had to show my I.D., was asked to leave.

4. Where did you go on vacation? British Columbia and Michigan.

5. What did you purchase that was over $500? I bought a car, plane tickets, and snow tires. Also tuition.

6. Did you know anybody who got married? Yes.

7. What sporting events did you attend? None.

8. What concerts/shows did you go to? None. (Damn, I need to get out more).

9. Where do you live now? Wyoming

10. Describe your birthday: I don’t really celebrate, though I know I was off work, because it was over the Thanksgiving holiday, so I’m sure it was spent reading, writing, working out, surfing the internet.

11. What’s the one thing you thought you would never do, but did in 2016? I saw some bears in the wild and managed not to soil myself. I literally stepped in a pile of bear shit and thought to myself “wow, that’s an awfully large cow pile. Wait, I’m in British Columbia, that’s not cow shit.” Two days later I had to maneuver the car around a bear that was crossing the road and had no interest in stopping. Why did the bear cross the road? Because it mother-fucking can. Because it’s a bear. Bears have no fucks to give.

12. What’s something you learned about yourself? See my AMA post.

13. Any new additions to your family? No. Only some losses.

14. What was your best month? Probably May. I had transferred from the high school to the alternative high school and graduation, for the first time in my career, was much more personal, given the nature of alternative high schools.

15. What music will you remember 2016 by? I never remember songs by the year. But maybe Beyonce’s “Daddy Lessons”.

16. Made new friends? No.

17. Favorite night out? Had some good ones with my favorite coworkers (both of whom either got transferred or quit, of course).

18. Any regrets? I’m not sure. I kind of wish I had showed less deference at work, though I probably was correct to show the amount of deference I did show.

19. What do you want to change in 2017? My overall health.

20. Overall, how would you rate this year? Well, it was difficult at times, but ultimately I came out stronger.

21. Other than home, where did you spend most of your time? At work, of course.

22. Change your hairstyle? No

23. Buy a new car? Yes. It’s a 2015, but new to me, obvs. Also the newest car I have ever owned.

24. Any car accidents? No

25. How old did you turn this year? 35

26. Do you have a New Year’s resolution? No. I make changes as I see fit (or try to) irrespective of the time of year. New Year’s resolutions also place too much pressure.

27. Do anything embarrassing? Of course. Screwing up at work, looking like a n00b while traveling, the aforementioned encounter with the police.

28. Be honest - did you watch American Idol? I don’t have a TV.

29. Start a new hobby? No.

30. Will you be happy to see 2016 go? No. 2017 could be worse. In fact, I suspect it will be.

31. Been naughty or nice? Both. Nice on the surface, dark as fuck sometimes beneath the surface.

exbex @ 2016-12-22T12:18:00

2016-12-22T19:18:38Z

You have 7 missed Voicemails (1322 words) by kapachiramasama
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Shitty Knight & Jack Zimmermann
Characters: Shitty Knight, Eric Bittle, Jack Zimmermann
Summary:

Shitty calls Jack a lot, and leaves a lot of voice mails behind, because that's what best friends do.

Because sometimes, a fanfic is so unexpectedly brilliant, so pure, that you just have to rec it immediately:

“Dude I just saw the biggest fucking bird in the world. Holy shit, you should have seen this fucking. Like the size of a fucking tire. Jesus, I think it was carrying a fucking dog in it’s talons. I’ll send you a picture I took, but goddamn. I think it was like a pigeon or something? I don’t know. But hey I’m driving down tonight with Bitty so call me if our plans changed. Love you, kid,”

“I bet. It’s okay, Shits, I’m here now,” He said, patting Shitty awkwardly on the back. Shitty squeezed his best friend even tighter, rubbing his face into his sweater.

“Oh my God, I missed you so much,” He mumbled into Jack’s chest. Jack laughed.

“Ha ha, I missed you too,” Jack said honestly, even though it had been less than two weeks. Before Bitty, all skin to skin contact was exclusively with Shitty, and had been completely platonic. Sometimes you just need hour long cuddles that didn’t give you a boner.

“Do you think it’ll scar?” He asked.

“Your bruise? Don’t think so,” Shitty buried his face in Jack’s sweater again.

“Oh my god you smell like cinnamon and dreams,” He mumbled.

“Thanks,”

“Your haircut makes you look like a Calvin Klein model from heaven,”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it,”

“You hug like a father of four who genuinely wants his kids to know they’re loved,”

5 recs

2016-12-22T02:53:31Z

sl_walker said "Rec five of your favorite fanworks (any fandom) and tell everyone what you love about them." I thought to myself "What a great idea." The theme is fanworks that capture what is so great about fanworks, beyond just great story-telling (and they're all stories because that's how I roll and because I am inarticulate, generally, when it comes to art).

The Releasing Fire

This is probably one of the most appropriate stories I have ever read. I use the word appropriate for a couple of reasons. First, Spencer did what fanfic writers are so good at doing: taking the canon and making it make sense for the real world. Starsky and Hutch went through so much trauma, both physical and emotional, that it borders on the absurd (see John Scalzi’s novel RedShirts) but it was in the era before story arcs and did more of the ‘new problem of the week’ type of tv story-telling. What Spencer has done here is wonderful, because she’s given our protagonists a way to deal with that trauma that has them a) acting in character, b) displaying that incredible friendship that is the bedrock of the show. The story is also moving and relatable, and offers a wonderful follow-up to the last episode of the series.

here we are, with burnin skin

There are so many things to love about fanfic, but possibly the thing I love the most is the infinite opportunities it affords us to take characters we love and write them in situations that the canon doesn’t allow. This is probably my favorite type of AU; it diverges from canon but still takes place in the same universe, it involves a rarepair but doesn’t break everyone’s OTP because there’s no heartbreaking breakup (I love heartbreaking breakups, but time and place). It also has some of the best fanfic tropes ever: a) one-sided pining that turns into mutual pining but involves misunderstandings, and b) a road trip. The road trip is particularly spectacular because it involves driving around looking at the weirdass tourist attractions that the U.S. has to offer. S’good.

Lord, What a Difference a Day Makes

When I ship a rarepair, there are two types of fics that I’m a sucker for. The first is the type that gets two characters together who are unlikely to get together in canon, because wow, what a talented writer can do with this is amazing. The second is an established relationship fic that just allows the shippers of the rarepair to indulge. Coffeestars, by putting a nice twist on the time travel trope, manages to give us both and the results are glorious.

Bad Moon Rising

This might sound messed up, but I love stories that make me want to die, that make me want to set the world on fire and burn it down because maybe we need to start over from scratch. There are a lot of stories like that, but this one is a standout because Dawn takes me to the edge but doesn’t let me jump over (thanks Dawn). Also, this is a long, plotty casefic that just works as a great story. It’s a story that is very firmly in the fanfic realm, meaning that we recognize the characters and we already know the backstories, thereby enriching the reading experience, but if Dawn de-fanficced this story, it would stand alone as a good crime drama. And on a lighter note, it features Starsky/Meredith and there’s not enough Starsky/Meredith in the world.

Juggling Act

This is a go-to nostalgia fic for me. And I love it because it shouldn’t be. I mean, it takes place at a circus, for one, and features a pairing that I am now, with the exception of this one nostalgia fic, generally unable to read. But it’s wickedly funny, has a nice plotty casefic element, and it captures the flavor of the canon and some of the flavor of the fandom as well.

This is apparently Joe Biden, circa his college days.

2016-12-20T21:40:21Z

Hot damn.

Ask me anything.

2016-12-19T21:16:42Z

Winter break just got extended by 3.5 days because my boss is clever. So ask me anything. Nothing is off limits (seriously, I am the queen of over-sharing).

Urban Dictionary: trumparoma

2016-12-17T18:19:10Z

Urban Dictionary: trumparoma

UD is better than Ativan.

Urban Dictionary: doctorbating

2016-12-17T18:15:49Z

Urban Dictionary: doctorbating

Is me.

Urban Dictionary: trumpitantrum

2016-12-17T18:12:40Z

Urban Dictionary: trumpitantrum

Totally went to urbandictionary.com to look up some terms. I haven't been this pleasantly surprised in a while.

exbex @ 2016-11-24T12:02:00

2016-11-24T19:02:41Z

One of the perks of being a teacher is the five-day weekend for Thanksgiving. I am using the time to write my ten-page research paper that I procrastinated on for this entire semester. I am also writing fanfic porn, of course (gotta take breaks, y'know). And I am reminded of one of my great fears: that I'll accidentally submit the porn instead of the research project and my professor, who will be expecting ten pages on multicultural education and representation in literature, will instead find 1000 words of my OTP experiencing skype-coitus interruptus because one of them has not yet figured out that spending less than one-hundred dollars on a vibrator always leads to disappointment.

tl;dr-exbex will not win role model awards

unpopular opinion #2

2016-11-13T19:20:32Z

So I went for a walk last night at 10 PM, and it's been pretty warm for November. But there was one house that was decked out in Christmas lights, and at first I was like "what the fuck; it's two weeks before Thanksgiving." But then I was like. "yeah, you rebel, let your freak flag fly."