Archive for the ‘You don’t say…?’ Category

July 02, 2012
Filed Under (HUH?, You don't say...?) by svana

So, I was reading the blog of one of my favourite authors today, Ilona Andrews, and was shocked to discover author hate. Yes, readers hating on the author. WTF?

The first thing to know about Ilona is that the books are a joint effort between her and her husband, Gordon. Being a big fan of working with my husband it’s a delight to see another couple working together and still seemingly happily married and experiencing true partnership in their life. The blog posts, which are often short but telling, give an insight into a day-to-day life that you normally would not see. And that, to me, shows a tremendous amount of trust on the part of Ilona and Gordon. These two people are not “public property”. Sure, they write a couple of different series of books that have put them in the public eye, but this does not give the public ownership over them, or their characters.

As an example, the Kate Daniels series contains some reference to sex, but it is not integral to the story. It simply is. It is incorporated as part of the story to illustrate the strong chemistry between certain characters, but is not what the stories are about. This is actually a refreshing change from the recent trend of female hero fantasy stories. These marvelously strong female leads who must suddenly surrender to Harlequin-esque bodice ripping. I mean, really?

Just because you do not agree with the story device of either sex being used or sex not being used does not give you the right to attack the author(s). If you can’t state your difference of opinion in a grown up manner, or at least in a respectful manner, then do what your mama should have taught you: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything.

The sense of entitlement absolutely baffles me. Emailing, tweeting, commenting, or otherwise harrassing an author because you don’t like how their characters are turning out. This whole faceless, nameless air of unaccountability sucks.

When I read Ilona’s comment in Gordon’s post about Curran and the hot tub, telling people to be nice to her husband, or else, it elicited a heartfelt “woo and hoo” from behind my laptop screen, followed closely by, “what the fuck are people thinking?”

The Curran POV’s that Gordon writes are bonus material, brilliant bonus material. They provide the much desired Curran thought process from key scenes of the novels. (For those that have not read the books, they are written in the first-person, from Kate’s point of view, which is why the Curran POV’s are in such demand) They are the absolutely guilt-free treat that you crave, be it a chocolate cupcake, or triple fudge sundae with sprinkles, or whatever floats your boat. And they are so totally worth the read.

Suffice it to say, I know that in our very liberal, open-minded, talk-about-anything household our kid, who was reading Maria V. Snyder’s Poison Study series when she was 10 can safely pick up any one of the Kate Daniels novels and not have her synapses fried on pointless, mindless, story-filling sex. Everything that our daughter has read, one or both of us have read first. There have been a couple of times where we knew something was borderline, but we also knew that she would ask us about it. Sure enough, she did. And we sat down with her and talked about it.

In some of their blog posts, Ilona and Gordon have had to put their foot down and tell people to settle down with regards to sex (or lack thereof) in their books, and hating in general. I mean, really, what’s the point of writing an author to say “I hate your books, I wish you were dead.”? Seriously people? Don’t like it, don’t read it anymore. Same as TV: don’t like the show, change the channel.

Side note to Illona and Gordon: For every one person that says they’ll never buy another one of your books, I’ll be the one buying two copies. One electronic, one paper. Secondly, every person that I have introduced to the Kate Daniels series has become a rabid fan. And about 80% of those people are buying electronic and paper copies, too. So, I think we’ve got you covered here in Canada. 😉

At the end of the day, I think the internet’s zero accountability is largely to blame for these hateful behaviours. I’m not suggesting a Big Brother society, but people really do need to treat others with respect and courtesy whether it’s face-to-face, or miles away via electrons.

We touched on a few points here, so let’s summarize (in no particular order):

  1. Stop hating on authors. If you don’t like what they do, vote with your wallet and don’t buy or read any more of their books. If you think you can do better than them, step up to the plate and prove it. Otherwise, shut the hell up and keep your hate to yourself.
  2. I think it’s pretty obvious we’re fans of Ilona, Gordon, their books, and their partnership. I’m absolutely willing to let them babysit my 13-year-old in the form of a book, and that’s saying something, as I’m fussy about who watches over our kid.
  3. Fans/Readers have the right to their enjoyment of a book or series, but do not have the right to demand the author(s) write in a specific manner. Many times the characters have their own voice and will tell the author their story. A good author will write that story out, tidy it up a bit and send it out into the world. It’s not your story. They aren’t your characters. You’re along for the ride. As the bumper sticker says: Sit down. Strap in. Hang on, and shut the hell up!

At the end of the day my gateway drug to the world of Kate Daniels and the writing of Ilona Andrews was Magic Bites. By her own words, she felt the book wasn’t that good as it was their first, and they were inexperienced. I liken it to sake: after 3 cups you are hooked, giddy, intoxicated and have no choice but to go along for the ride. And the ride is totally worth it.

February 12, 2012
Filed Under (Family, Good Times, You don't say...?) by svana

I suspect that I’m one of those really, really lucky women who is very loved by her husband, and knows it.

The other day, I sent a message through MSN to my spouse, saying…”Don’t fuss about valentines day”. To which I received the stunned response of, “ummmmmm?”. This small exchange sparked a discussion over whether or not Valentines Day is important to me.

When I consider all the things, large and small, that he does through the year and over the years that we have passed through…Valentines Day seems pretty insignificant. Not to mention that any guy would be tickled pink to get a pass on the most expensive, commercial day of the year short of Christmas.

When I pause and consider all those things that are so easily overlooked…how much that people take for granted, I understand why they need a day to say “I love you”. Love, unless nurtured, appreciated and fed, fizzles out. Will one day a year ignite the same feeling you beheld when you realized you were in love? In my opinion, it won’t. As I type this, I’m reflecting on all the lovely, simple things that my spouse does…day in and day out.


Watching the same movie over and over with me until I get it out of my system…without complaint.

Getting up before the alarm goes off in the morning, and making me a beverage that I can enjoy before my feet touch the floor.

Leaving little love notes hither and yon, so I might discover them when I really need to.

Bringing me cold packs when I’ve used up every single one in the blessed hospital…for that matter, answering my damn text at 3:00 in the morning, when he should be sleeping.

All the times he held me while I grieved over the loss of a friend or family member, four legged or otherwise.

The cup of tea to settle my stomach before or after a seizure, and the regulation two advil if requested.

Being reasonable when I can’t.

Holding my hand at the birth of our child and better…holding my hand while I slept in the birthing tub, and not letting go when I rose out of the tub like a vampire from it’s coffin, hollering “I’ve gotta PUSH!”.

For always kissing me goodnight.

Talking me through my fears, over and over again.

Supporting me through my spirituality, even if he doesn’t believe. More to the point, if he doesn’t believe…he never ever shows it.

For checking my blog posts to ensure I’m not looking like a total boob.

Painting my toe nails horrific colours…and adding emoticon expressions free hand.

Putting up with my tantrums when all the electronics in the house have decided to rise up and stage a mutiny against me.

Telling me I’m beautiful, and helping me see it…even at my worst.

Humouring me when another stray shows up on our porch and welcoming them into our home.

For holding my hand as we fall asleep, every night.

These are just a few of the things that my husband does that tell me he loves me, without benefit of the yearly reminder of Valentines Day. I’m pretty damn grateful that I don’t need to rely on a Hallmark Holiday to know, from the top of my head to the tips of my hideously coloured toenails, that I am loved.

I wish that every person was as blessed as I am…I love you, Spouse…every day, not just on February 14…and I hope you know that.

January 29, 2012
Filed Under (You don't say...?) by svana

Recently, I’ve been watching a series called Slings & Arrows. A brilliant production set in a fictitious Canadian town. Sadly, it seems to be only three seasons long. Centered around a struggling arts festival theatre and the works of William Shakespeare. I think William had a grasp of how the universe plays with us like a cat with a catnip mouse, or rabbit-fur mouse, take your pick.

This morning, because it is in the wee hours, it is not me typing this, but dictating it to my Beloved Blog Bitch (Hello, Spouse!) because the right side of my body decided it was going to be unresponsive. That’s not to say I have been drinking heavily, nor have I indulged in strenuous sports-like activities. Nope, I had a seizure. It sucks.

You may be wondering what the hell a seizure has to do with a TV series. It’s my opinion that the irony of many of the situations found in this series are not unlike what we deal with day-to-day, but fail to notice. We notice the irony in a TV series, because we are capable of watching it at a distance. We laugh at these poor characters as they tumble through various situations that can only be found in one of Bill Shakespeare’s plays, which they are trying to produce.

The similarity between watching this series and watching myself post-seizure allows me to identify the irony in my own life and to highlight it with a bright pink highlighter. I hate the colour pink.

The irony of my current circumstance is that I can complete a regular sudoku puzzle 10 seconds faster post-seizure with my left hand. I can complete a “nightmare”-level puzzle in 9 minutes post-seizure with my left hand. I am right-handed, folks. Seems to me that my brain works better after a little natural electroshock therapy, and that is how the universe fucks with me.

I don’t think that I would have recognized and appeciated the irony if it were not for Slings & Arrows. Nice skull, Oliver. If anybody wants to know, they can look it up. Better yet, watch the series.

P.S. Another irony to ponder: The war cry goes up for intelligent television. Why is it all the intelligent programming gets cancelled after only 1, 2, or 3 seasons? Another way the universe fucks with us. All the good shows gets cancelled because demographics show that people want to watch train wrecks like “Jersey Shore”. It’s bloody incomprehensible to me.

January 09, 2012
Filed Under (The Happy Sad Things, You don't say...?) by svana

Yet again my technical ineptitude has hit an all time high.

Must be the lack of uterus. Yes, I do believe that not having a uterus is to blame. Never mind all the tripe floating around the internet about feeling like less of a woman because you’re missing a part of your body that defines you as being a “woman”. Honestly, I still have my damn ovaries and they remind me often enough that I’m still a woman….failing that, I have 9 cats that feel compelled to stomp on my breasts at 3:00 in the morning when they want attention… If that doesn’t cover my “woman-ness”, I have a husband who still, after 13 years, looks at me like I’m the next best thing to a grilled cheese. (I have been corrected, “A havarti and hot genoa salami grilled cheese sandwich”)

The last year was filled with all sorts of changes, some good and some not so good.

We lost our beloved fur person, Mousie and we lost our beloved Nanny. I’d like to think that the two of them are hanging out together somewhere, enjoying the sunshine.

We welcomed two new feral kittens into our home. We looked forward to new paths, new technologies and new addictions…like the App Store, iTunes and yarn. And damn if I didn’t misplace that pesky uterus somewhere in the vicinity of the hospital. If anyone sees it trying to find it’s way home…direct it south….way south.

I hope 2012 continues as it has started, filled with discovery, joy, laughter, family and dear friends…both four footed and two footed. I know irreverance is my reverance, and that is something that will not change. Love me or hate me, but Ruthless Compassion is back in business….and if you don’t like what I write, feel free to move along, this isn’t about you…it’s about me.

May 08, 2009
Filed Under (Profoundly Disturbing, You don't say...?) by svana

I enjoy taking a poke at people who shove their heads up their butts and walk on their elbows, and today’s lucky recipient is none other than Pat Robertson. You may know of this crazy kid; he’s a southern baptist, real name is Marion, a televangelist and prophet.

On my usual morning walk around the internet, I came across a clip of Pat sharing his views on same sex marriage. You would think that if this guy founded a University, he might take a moment to put the brakes on his mouth and really think about what he’s saying.

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February 26, 2009

I just don’t understand why people think actors are required to be anything more than what they are…people.

I popped on to today to poke about and saw an entertainment headline that demanded that one extra click of my mouse. “Brangelina get slammed for being smug!” I watched the video clip of a writer for the New York Post, Danica Lo, spouting off about the awards ceremonies and Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

Danica…with the biggest baseball bat wielded from me here at the wee Ruthless Compassion…pull your head out of your ass…It may help clear your vision.

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February 08, 2009
Filed Under (You don't say...?) by svana

December was a very odd month for me. Aside from the general holiday hustle and bustle, Christmas concerts…whoops, “Holiday Celebrations”, shopping and staff parties…then death paid a visit.

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September 02, 2008
Filed Under (Good Times, You don't say...?) by svana

It has been a very interesting summer, to say the least. Filled with laughter and the seemingly constant and endless cry of “ROAD TRIP!” My funny wee family has had a great time, and so have I.

I have learned so much in the process. I’ve learned that with the right person, clothes shopping can be a blast…even if I do wind up looking like a busty milkmaid. I’ve learned that there is a seemless transition between being friends and being family, when it is the right fit. I’ve learned to shut my mouth when I don’t have the right words. I’ve learned that my best friend is a Domme.

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August 21, 2008
Filed Under (You don't say...?) by svana

Last week, a client that I thoroughly enjoy came in for an appointment with me. I really enjoy my time with clients who are of like mind, and I’m a bit selfish when that happens. From time to time, a friendship grows and I am doubly blessed.

We got on to the topic of Facebook, MySpace, blogging and the like. I do not have a Facebook account, nor a MySpace account…so I am virtually invisible, and I like it that way. My friend asked me how blogging was going. My response involved a fair bit of aheming, blushing and the like…with the final response of…”I don’t really have much to say…” He fell off his chair laughing, and with a wicked grin and a sharp sparkle in his eyes he said, “You have loads to say…you just don’t want to share it.”


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