Review: Resume Templates by ItsPrintable

Should you find yourself in need of a new resume, these templates by Its Printable on Etsy are truly lovely. You do have to install your own fonts (which are provided in the purchase), which means you really do need to print the resume--either on paper or in a PDF format--because you can't send the Word document unless you know the recipient will have the fonts on their end, but yeah. Lovely.

Repost: Identifying with the Aggressor

[Ana's Note: By popular demand, this is a re-post of an old deconstruction, partly to have content while I struggle with my ongoing disability challenges and partly so that newcomers can comment on old conversations.


Incidentally, I don't usually pledge-drive, but if you're wanting to donate now is maybe a good time to do it. I am having some major job crisis / medical crisis stuff going on that I don't have the spoons to talk about but that's a background thing I'm dealing with. Okay, that's enough about me, back to the Narnia.


The original post is here. I have not edited the content. I kinda want to give Edmund a big hug and reassure him that everything is going to get better. (Credit to David Lanham for the Riceball images.)] 



Narnia Recap: Lucy has stepped into the Wardrobe and found herself in the magical land of Narnia. She takes tea in the home of a faun before he confesses that he has been employed to kidnap human children. Lucy begs to be let go and the faun accompanies her back to the magical portal so that she might escape.

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, Chapter 3: Edmund and the Wardrobe

   LUCY RAN OUT OF THE EMPTY ROOM into the passage and found the other three.
   "It's all right," she repeated, "I've come back." [...]
   "So you've been hiding, have you?" said Peter. "Poor old Lu, hiding and nobody noticed! You'll have to hide longer than that if you want people to start looking for you."
   "But I've been away for hours and hours," said Lucy.
   The others all stared at one another.
   "Batty!" said Edmund, tapping his head. "Quite batty."

Edmund, the second youngest Pevensie, has already been rather unsubtly telegraphed to us as something of a villain -- his first recorded words in the novel, after all, are a harsh grumble at his sister Susan to stop imitating their mother, and his attitude does not improve materially from there. Now that Lucy has tumbled from the wardrobe back into her own world and is about to receive a harsh lesson in Narnia Time, Edmund will be the first and the most vociferous voice labeling Lucy insane.

Film Corner: The Evolution of Criticizing a Male-Authored Comic as a Female Reviewer

[Ana's Note: Previously posted at Shakesville, with love.  
Content Note: Rape Culture, Misogyny.] 

Step 1. Write a detailed review about a comic tie-in. You don't really need to be angry at this stage, although nothing is stopping you from being angry because anger can be a healthy natural response to oppression. But let's be honest, if you've been reviewing for awhile (or even just consuming media for a few years), this is so much of the same shit on a different day. If you had to describe your feelings at this point, they would probably be "welp, that's a damn shame, better go write up a review to save everyone their five bucks and also from being triggered into a PTSD episode and losing the afternoon".

Fat Acceptance: Let's Continue To Misuse Correlation and Causation In Order To Harm Fat People!

[Ana's Note: Previously published at Shakesville, with love!
Content Note: Fat hatred, Fertility]

Here is a fun headline: "Being overweight may harm men's semen quality". Shockingly (read: not shockingly at all), the actual study under discussion tentatively found a correlation between (a) higher BMIs and lower ejaculate volume and (b) larger waists and lower sperm count. As best as I can tell from the article, no correlation whatsoever was mapped between high BMI and/or larger waists and an actual practical impact on fertility as measured by not being able to conceive when actually trying to conceive*:

About half of the men had already fathered children when the study took place and none of the couples were seeking help with infertility when they were recruited.

The researchers also did not follow up to see whether the men succeeded in having children later.
So there might be some correlation between weight and semen production which might be statistically significant and which might affect male fertility in an as-yet unquantified way. Do you think this is prematurely being peddled as a FAT MEN ARE INFERTILE!!1! and LOSE WEIGHT TO SAVE YOUR SPERM!1!! by fat hating publications? Is water wet?

Because of course NBC headlined their article with a Scary Headless Fattie and the words "A man this heavy could be harming his sperm." He's harming his sperm by being fat, ya'll! But maybe he'll read this study and this will be the final straw to cause him to stop being fat for the sake of his sperm and then his sperm won't be harmed anymore!

NBC is accusing a random citizen on the street of causing harm to his own sperm count based on a cursory glance at his external appearance. That. Is. Bullshit.

#18: You can diagnose fat people's health issues by looking at them. No.

---

* Without getting into a whole long thing on fertility, the bottom line is that fertility is not a binary On/Off switch in many (I would even hazard "most") cases. Having a low sperm count might make it more difficult to conceive a child, but many men with low sperm counts are able to father children without medical aid or intervention.

Open Thread: Fabric


I've misplaced my camera.  This was taken over a year ago.  I have no idea what it's a picture of.  Actually, that might be my knee (or some such) covered by the very skirt I'm wearing right now.  Odd coincidence that, assuming it truly is the case.

-

Saturday Recommendations!  What have you been reading/writing/listening to/playing/watching lately?  Shamelessly self-promote or boost the signal on something you think we should know about - the weekend’s ahead, give us something new to explore!

And, like on all threads: please remember to use the "post new comment" feature rather than the "reply" feature, even when directly replying to someone else!

Narnia: Leaving the Donkey Behind

[Narnia Content Note: Racism, Violence]

Narnia Recap:When we last left Shasta, he was given a loaf of bread and shoved out of the cottage so that the guest (the Tarkaan) and his "father" (Arsheesh) could speak without children present. The Tarkaan then offered to buy Shasta as a slave. 

Obligatory note about racism, intent, and Lewis is here.

The Horse and His Boy, Chapter 1: How Shasta Set Out On His Travels

I pointed out in previous posts that I find Shasta uncompelling as a protagonist, and the comments have done a great job of fleshing out what a cipher he is. He actually reminds me of Anastasia Steele from Fifty Shades of Grey; someone (I believe it was Cliff at The Pervocracy) has memorably noted that as a character she seems to have been decanted a maximum of one whole day prior to the start of the novel. Shasta has this exact same problem: He's missing crucial experiences and understandings of the world around him. These can't just be explained by being sheltered; these are things that he would have needed in order to get from Point A (birth) to Point B (here, where the novel starts).

Open Thread: Purple


Been seeing these things around lately.  I think this is the best picture I've gotten.

-

Friday Recommendations!  What have you been reading/writing/listening to/playing/watching lately?  Shamelessly self-promote or boost the signal on something you think we should know about - the weekend’s ahead, give us something new to explore!

And, like on all threads: please remember to use the "post new comment" feature rather than the "reply" feature, even when directly replying to someone else!

Repost: World-Building Your Allegory

[Ana's Note: By popular demand, this is a re-post of an old deconstruction, partly to have content while I struggle with my ongoing disability challenges and partly so that newcomers can comment on old conversations.

The original post is here. I have not edited the content; but be aware that there is an ableist term that I no longer use (apologies!) and I am no longer comfortable with my analogy of Narnia to Russia. I do enjoy teasing apart the world-building of "where does all the food come from?", however.] 



Narnia Recap: The four Pevensie children have moved away from London to escape the bombing out to a country house where Lucy -- the youngest -- has made a strange discovery by looking into an old wardrobe.

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, Chapter 2: What Lucy Found There

When Lucy steps into the wardrobe, she finds a winter wonderland on the other side: an entire forest carpeted in a thick blanket of snow, and an actual honest-to-goodness faun in the middle of the forest, complete with shopping packages and a cheery little umbrella. The faun greets Lucy pleasantly, takes her to his home for tea, provides some essential world-building, and then urges her to flee back to England before danger can befall her in Narnia.

   "GOOD EVENING," SAID LUCY. BUT THE Faun was so busy picking up its parcels that at first it did not reply. When it had finished it made her a little bow.
   "Good evening, good evening," said the Faun. "Excuse me -- I don't want to be inquisitive -- but should I be right in thinking that you are a Daughter of Eve?"

Open Thread: The Cracks of Age


When they put up a road sign it's all shiny and uniform and neat and boring.  It doesn't stay that way.  Give it some time and it won't be so tidy anymore, it'll start to take on a unique character as the shiny starts to crackle in a way that is anything but uniform or boring or neat.

Given time, even something as mundane as the route nine east sign can become messy and interesting.  That disorder can be quite pretty.

-

Friday Recommendations!  What have you been reading/writing/listening to/playing/watching lately?  Shamelessly self-promote or boost the signal on something you think we should know about - the weekend’s ahead, give us something new to explore!

And, like on all threads: please remember to use the "post new comment" feature rather than the "reply" feature, even when directly replying to someone else!

Repost: The Stifling Role of Child-Mother

[Ana's Note: By popular demand, this is a re-post of an old deconstruction, partly to have content while I struggle with my ongoing disability challenges and partly so that newcomers can comment on old conversations.

The original post is here. I have not edited the content. In retrospect, I'm astonished to see and recall that I actually counted all the words spoken by each child. I mean, I'm glad I did, but wow, that took forever.] 



Narnia Recap: If you've never heard of The Chronicles of Narnia, you might want to start here with the deconstruction vote, and then follow to here for the discussion of the deconstruction vote.

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, Chapter 1: Lucy Looks Into A Wardrobe

Four is frequently the magic number in children's literature, at least in terms of protagonist children. With four children, you can have two girls, two boys, a wide range of ages (and therefore a broad audience appeal), and the author can do all sorts of cute tricks like perfectly alternating the genders by age (boy, girl, boy, girl) or by introducing pairs of boy-girl twins. The Bobbsey Twins features four children of the twin-pair variety, the Boxcar Children features four children of the alternating variety, and the Chronicles of Narnia starts the first published book in the series, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, with a family of four young children: Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy.

Metapost: Re-posting?

Chris the Cynic has pointed out to me that some of the long-term deconstructionists online have started re-posting old material because (a) some folks understandably don't want to comb through the archives, and (b) it lets people have a discussion again (since the comments on those old threads are long-closed).

Would this be something ya'll would enjoy here? It would be a way to have Narnia stuff to talk about while I'm dealing with the never-ending cycle of sickness, lol.

Writings: What Dag Sees

[Ana's Note: I was stuck in bed this evening when the new meds made me dizzy (and possibly sick with vertigo, though we're not 100% sure if that's the right word to call it because it wasn't so much spinning as a heavy leaden head), so I wrote this for no real reason. Minor content notes for Mad Max themes, but I don't think this got too explicit.] 

It wasn't just that the new girl was pretty.

They were all pretty, in their own ways. Splendid was gorgeous, so beautiful that even her scars couldn't mar her. You didn't even notice them half the time, not when she so effortlessly commanded your full attention. It was something in the way she carried herself, that unwavering certainty that drew people in. As if the world itself had been made to bend to her wishes. When she spoke, when her eyes flashed with that deep self-assurance, it was impossible not to believe in her vision. Joe had liked that about her once, before her vision diverged too much from his established order. Yet even after he'd locked her in the vault and ordered her silence, he never forgot the power in those flashing eyes.

The others, too, were beautiful. Capable, with her bright hair and caring gaze. He'd taken her from the medicine-tents the day he first laid eyes on her. Swept her right out of the Hospitality as she was setting a broken leg, saying he needed her tending more than the common rabble did. Had set her to work with ointments and cures, begging her to heal his boils in that sickly-sweet voice he could take. She'd worked on him in her careful kind way, her gentle touch tempered with cautious distance. All for naught, of course; once she'd tended to his back, he required tending of a different nature. She'd gone into the vault with the rest of his treasures, and if the world lost a valuable surgeon that day, Joe hadn't cared.

Then there was Toast. She'd been passing through, a stranger in a traveling caravan. Friends and companions, she'd thought, but once they realized their options were to sell her to Joe or helplessly watch her be taken, they'd taken the offered bullets and milk eagerly enough. Traitors. She hadn't cried; her wise eyes were sad, but tears didn't spill. Perhaps she'd known all along how cruel the world would be to her. She wore her hair short, jagged and straight. A pixie cut, the older women used to call it. Dag would watch her sometimes when she wasn't looking, waiting for gossamer wings to ripple out of her back so that she could fly away to freedom. They never did. Just as well, Dag supposed; she didn't know what gossamer was.

Was Dag pretty? She didn't care. Men, the ones who wanted her, would compare her eyes to stormy skies and her hair to pale cornsilk. Then when she wouldn't touch their schlanger they'd call her an ugly bitch and a worthless whore. Showed what stupid smeg they were; Dag knew good and well how to fuck for money, and she knew precisely how much she was worth. More, so much more, than those smeg could afford. More than Joe was willing to pay. A real god would be generous, Dag remembered musing as he had her dragged away; a real god wouldn't want everything she had for nothing in return. She hadn't been able to cut him that day, but she'd carved a goodly hole into one of his warriors. He'd liked that, liked feeling like she was dangerous. His deadly Dag, overpowered by his might.

She let him call her that, owning the name she'd not chosen. Why not, when it was so appropriate? She'd stick a dag in him one day, and she'd grin in his face as she twisted the knife. Let him call her pretty then.

The newest one was pretty, just as the rest of them. Cheedo, she'd said her name was. Because he was a fool, Joe had called her Fragile. That was what she was to him, fragility in the shape of a woman. He saw her youth, her cringing fear, her delicate purity. Things men valued that had nothing to do with who you were. He didn't see the things that made her herself. Her unshakable determination when she'd sit in silence for hours, weaving those tiny braids through her long dark hair. The naked outrage she couldn't hide from her face each time she was confronted with the ugly unfairness of the world. The deep sincerity that led her to argue with the other wives once she was sure they wouldn't hurt her. Little things, yes, but things she cared about: the minute details in a fairy story she'd been told, or tiny discrepancies in the histories they each half-remembered. She'd argue, her small voice gaining strength from her passion, and Dag would watch and see all the things that Joe didn't.

Cheedo's beauty wasn't simply physical. She was pure--a purity that had nothing to do with with Joe cared about, and everything to do with her spirit. Watching her feel things, seeing the intensity of her emotions, made Dag remember all that she felt once, before Joe had locked her away and she'd grown bitter and cynical to survive. The bright wideness of Cheedo's eyes whenever Splendid told another story; the rippling cringe around her sweet mouth when Capable would tell the others how to sew up a wound; the hard outrage arching her dark eyebrows whenever Toast told how her friends sold her away. Dag would watch her with eyes that missed nothing, and could never be sure whether she wanted to kiss Cheedo or become her.

---
[Normal fan-fiction disclaimers apply: I don't own the copyright to these characters; this is not an official endorsed work; this piece is posted under Fair Use guidelines as non-profit and a tiny portion of the whole work. If you hold the copyright and object to this story being published online, send me an email and I will take it down.]

Metapost: That Thing Where I Talk About My Back (Sorry!)

[Content Note: Medical stuff]

I never know how much ya'll want to know about my medical stuff, and honestly that doesn't parse well with my depression cycles where I'm just genuinely not capable of judging my own relative worth to people. (I'm frequently astonished to find that you don't all hate me, which is a very strange feeling when it hits! It's like a very confusing Christmas morning sprung on me in mid-July.)

So.

Open Thread: Moon Shadow


Ok, actually it's an earth shadow on the moon.

Also, fun fact, none of the "smart modes" on my camera are set up for, "I want you to focus on something 238,900 miles away, which happens to be the brightest light source around, and pick up surface details."  I was left fiddling with manual stuff for the first time ever.  That's the first picture that came out ok.

-

Friday Recommendations!  What have you been reading/writing/listening to/playing/watching lately?  Shamelessly self-promote or boost the signal on something you think we should know about - the weekend’s ahead, give us something new to explore!

And, like on all threads: please remember to use the "post new comment" feature rather than the "reply" feature, even when directly replying to someone else!