Erin Writes

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

Hey, I forgot to post my most recent lyrics. No video of this one, at least not yet. We performed it at FilKONtario. Those of you coming to ConCertino will have a chance to hear it this weekend.

(Storybook) Love Story

Music: “Love Story” by Taylor Swift

I'd torment you whenever I saw you

You were my farm boy and I was in love

I saw you there, sunlight dancing on your golden hair

What could I say, you looked just like a picture

I just pointed saying, "Fetch me that pitcher"

‘Twas foolish

But you said, "As you wish"

Then you had to go, you were seeking fortunes,

But you swore you would always make it back to me

Then I was kidnapped by some pirate

Why did you have to go?

And I said

Humperdinck took me, I thought you'd left me all alone

Now I’ll never doubt you; here they come, we’d better run

You'll be the pirate and I'll be the princess,

It's a love story, baby, just say Yes

So I ran out to the fire swamp with you

Tried to keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they knew

I’ll close my eyes; avoid the rodents of unusual size

But at the other end the evil Prince was waiting

Humperdinck said, "Get away from Buttercup"

But you were everything to me,

and I was begging him, Let him go

So I said…

Humperdinck, take me and leave him alone

I'll come quietly; promise you I’ll never run

You are my prince and I'll be your princess

It's a love story, baby, I’ll say Yes

Westley, please save me, I just don't know what to do

I don't love Humperdinck, I’m so screwed

I’m so afraid, will we make it out of this mess?

It's a love story, baby, please say, Yes

I got tired of waiting

Wondering if you were ever coming around

My faith in you was fading

Then I saw you in that bed, lying down

And you said

“Buttercup, gently, I've been mostly dead all day

I came for you, all you had to do was wait

Help me out of bed, this jerk has got to go”

You picked up your sword and stood on your own

and said…

“To the pain, Humperdinck / You warthog-faced buffoon"

The prince dropped his sword, he won't be getting married soon

We tied him to a chair and rode off in the sunset

That’s our love story, baby, we said Yes

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

A couple of weeks ago, I read multiple posts about the theory that the mother on How I Met Your Mother is dead at the point when future Ted is telling his children the story. (If you are a fan and have somehow avoided this theory? Congratulations&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;)

I was not, and am not, okay with this.

Part of what&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;s fueling these theories, apart from clues and odd moments in the show, are the tweets and posts and comments from cast members regarding the series finale. Cobie Smulders, apparently, said in an interview that she &http://eringoblog.net/#8220;immediately started weeping&http://eringoblog.net/#8221; after reading it. Alyson Hannigan tweeted a photo from the table read, consisting of her script surrounded by used tissues.

Today, I read an article on TV Guide.com titled &http://eringoblog.net/#8220;Does it Matter if the Mother is Dead?&http://eringoblog.net/#8221; The authors thesis is, of course, that it does not.

I am not okay with this.

I was okay with the finale of Six Feet Under being what it was, because this was a show about death and mortality. I was fine with the end of Breaking Bad, because really&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;how else would a show like that end? But How I Met Your Mother is a sitcom, and at its heart, a love story. A romantic comedy, if you will. I have certain expectations from a story like this. Yes, the show has had moments that were heartbreaking and poignant, but ultimately, I will feel betrayed by an ending that tears Ted&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;s true love away from him&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;one that we have all waited SO LONG to meet. (and don&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t even get me started on how I&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;ll feel if that happens and it leads to him somehow ending up with Robin after all. No.)

In the aforementioned article, the author says, &http://eringoblog.net/#8220;&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;sitcoms tend to feel forced to wrap up with a neat bow and rainbows and kittens because God forbid what would&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;ve happened if Rachel never got off the plane&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;&http://eringoblog.net/#8221;

 She got off the plane.

Yeah? So what? I will fully admit with zero shame that I would have been upset and disappointed if Rachel hadn&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t gotten off the plane. As I said, these are romantic comedies. In a romantic comedy, Rachel gets off the plane. In a romantic comedy, the mother doesn&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t die.

I get that there&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;s a place for tragedy. I do. I get that people don&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t always get to live happily ever after, and that in real life, loved ones die. But I respectfully disagree that all of our art needs to reflect reality. I know where to go for reality; I want stories that offer hope. I want Ted to get married and raise his children and grow old with the woman he loves. I want Ross and Rachel to find their way back to each other and finally make it work. I want Harry and Sally married and talking about their wedding cake at the end. I want Lloyd and Diane holding hands on the plane, heading off to England ready to defy the odds against them. I want Westley and Buttercup literally riding off into the sunset together.

Wuv. Twoo wuv.

And I just don&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t get what&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;s so terrible about that.

I don&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t know if this has always been the case, but there seems to be this persistent idea that what makes for good writing is subverting expectations. (In this case, the expectation that the audience expects Ted and the Mother to have the happy ending I described above.) There&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;s also a persistent idea that the best love stories are the most tragic ones. I&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;ll bet you aren&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t surprised by this, but most of the time, I kind of hate tragic love stories.* 

I&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;ll never let go, Jack&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;

(Side note&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;don&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;t you dare even try to bring up Romeo and Juliet. If you think &http://eringoblog.net/#8220;tragic love story&http://eringoblog.net/#8221; is the point of Romeo and Juliet, well&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;that&http://eringoblog.net/#8217;s a whole different rant.)

My bottom line is this: we have enough heartbreak and sadness. In this sea of portrayals of bleak desolation, of horror, of darkness, of anti-heroes, and of tragedy, this show has been one of my bright spots. Over the course of this season, I have fallen in love with Cristin Milioti and her beautiful portrayal of the mother, and I have forgiven Ted for his past douchebaggery. Over the course of the past nine seasons, I have laughed and cried and loved with these characters&http://eringoblog.net/#8230;

Is it really to much to ask for it to not break my heart at the end?

*I still harbor some resentment over the way the movie Once ended. Seriously, ask my husband. 

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

So, last year I blogged about my and Rand’s concert at FilKONtario. Well, I recently got that DVD of the concert that Tom promised, and I managed to get some video posted on YouTube over the weekend.

Here’s a link to the playlist I made, which includes five of the songs we performed.

And directly embedded above is “Cliffs of Insanity,” our Princess-Bride themed parody of “Green Hills of Harmony.” (lyrics at the link)

Enjoy!

So, Seanan wrote this post yesterday, which you should totally read (if you haven't already), and as I commented on it, I realized that I had a lot more to say than would fit in a comment. And then vixy wrote this, and the thoughts started bouncing around in my brain some more. This has been in my head since I first heard about this video (The Doubleclicks, "Nothing to Prove"). I had wanted to submit something, but I couldn't figure out what I wanted to say.

I haven't always identified as a geek, but I've always been geeky. My dad was always a fan of fantasy and SF. He introduced me to Lord of the Rings and Star Trek (he taped every episode of TOS on VHS). I was a regular fixture at my local public library, and I burned through the fantasy section (I don't have a clear memory of everything I read back in those days, other than there being a lot of Piers Anthony...). I wore out a VHS tape of The Last Unicorn, and when I saw The Princess Bride for the first time, it promptly became one of my all-time favorite movies. But with the exception of a couple of good friends I could occasionally geek out with, I didn't really travel in geeky circles as a teen.

I didn't read comics. I didn't play video games. The internet didn't even exist until I was in college.

(Once the internet existed, though? I was all over it.)

After college, I started to really embrace my geekiness, little by little. I got into geeky TV shows, like The X Files and Buffy.I discovered Harry Potter. I made friends with some fabulous geeky ladies in an online writing group (which later led to Toasted Cheese).

But it wasn't until much later (2004, to be exact) that I really got introduced to the whole idea of fandom. That happened when I met my husband. (If you click the link, the one on the left is mine.) He read comic books, and played music at science fiction conventions, and was part of this thing called filk (which, I should add, I had been introduced to before meeting him, by way of one of my Toasted Cheese friends). He started bringing me with him to filk conventions in 2005, and I kept going back.

It might be because of Rand, or it might be that I don't go to large gen cons like SDCC or DragonCon, but no one has ever asked me to prove myself, or questioned my credentials as a geek girl. Still, whenever this topic comes up, I can't help but feel a little bit anxious.

Because I'm afraid, if questioned, I would fail.

I read some comics, but I haven't read all the comics. I haven't seen all the right movies, or all the right TV shows, or read all the right books (some I'm interested in and just haven't gotten to them yet; others, I'm simply not interested in at all). And there's a little tiny part of me that wonders if people think I'm only part of this world because of Rand.

And every time I catch myself slipping into this line of thinking, I have to kind of shake myself out of it.

I am not a fake geek girl.

I am not a fake geek girl because the fake geek girl is a myth.

And I am a part of this community because I choose to be.

It may be true that, technically, I am here because of Rand (would I have found my own way without him? who knows...)--but I stuck around because of me.

Because, although I don't think either one of us really knew it at the time, when he brought me to that first convention...

...he was bringing me home.

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

This is probably going to be a long one, so prepare yourself! Get a snack; I’ll wait…

I’ve always been a performer in one sense or another. I had a not-insignificant role in my 5th grade play. I was in a community theater production of Annie when I was in middle school. I was a cheerleader (don’t judge me! And if a cheerleader hurt you in your formative years, let me apologize on behalf of all nice-girl-cheerleaders everywhere…)

I never really thought of myself as a performer in the musical sense. I had been scared off of singing by an experience in middle school (Even after getting a role in Annie, I was cut from the middle school show choir. I ask you, who does that? It was middle school, and it’s not like I went to a performing arts school or it was super competitive or anything…but I digress.) When I went to college, I joined a sorority that took music very, very seriously, and I declared myself a founding member of the “tone deaf club.” Now, to be fair, I knew I wasn’t actually tone deaf, because people who are actually tone deaf have no idea that they’ve hit the wrong note. For us, it was about being people with no musical/vocal training among people who had been singing in choirs their entire lives. I was intimidated. I wasn’t very good at harmonizing. And so, I went merrily on with my life, singing when I had to (at things like Greek Sing, or other sorority events), but otherwise, singing along with the radio or my CDs was about it.

Well, it’s probably no surprise that the longer I hung around in filk, the more people started to express an interest in hearing me sing (*coughdebbieohicough*). I protested at first, but little by little, people started to wear me down. The first time I sang at all was in a very tiny circle very late at night at GAFilk in 2007. I blame Amanda.

Amanda is one of my co-editors at Toasted Cheese, and the reason I sort of kind of knew what filk was before I even met Rand. We had been online buds since…ummm…I’m going to say 1999? But this was the first time we had met in person. Anyway, Amanda had written a short filk of “One Singular Sensation” and she asked me to sing it with her. We practiced it a few times, and then went looking for a small circle to sing it in. So, a handful of people in that room heard me sing that night.

I think it might have been the following year (at GAFilk again) that Rand convinced me to sing a bit of a Flaming Lips song with him–not “Yoshimi,” but “Fight Test,” which has a chorus with overlapping parts that becomes counterpoint at the end. The Flaming Lips are kind of known for having a singer who can’t really sing, so I figured it was pretty low pressure. (Actually, here’s a post I wrote about that.)

After that, he convinced me to try “Yoshimi,” which would have me singing lead. We worked on it, and I sang it in a circle at FKO in 2009.

(Photo by Brooke Lunderville)

People seemed to enjoy that, so I was encouraged. Rand and I kept singing “Yoshimi” in circles, but I was a little worried that people were going to start to get sick of hearing it, so I never really pushed for it.

In 2010, Rand and Adam were nominated for a Pegasus award, and Adam was unable to attend the convention to perform it. Rand asked me if I wanted to try to do it. “Um…” I said.  I agreed to work on it with him (and I think I only freaked out and had a meltdown once!) We went ahead and did it, and but for the fact that I was later informed that Rand’s microphone wasn’t working, I think it went okay.

(Photo by Walter Korynkiewicz)

Fast forward to last year, when Tom contacted Rand to invite us to be this year’s Filk Waifs. We started putting together a list of things we might be able to sing together, as well as ideas for songs (mostly parodies) that we might be able to write. I bought a ukulele last August, thinking that I might get good enough at one or two things to play it in the concert. (that…did not happen. It will, but I was more focused on the singing. Did I mention I was nervous about the singing? I ended up taking voice lessons from a former colleague, which was a HUGE help. Thanks again, Shelley!)

(practicing in UT’s room Saturday morning. I’m playing a melodica–also known as a hooter. Photo by Allison Durno)

Fast forward again to the day of the concert. The Filk Waif concert is the first concert on Saturday. After having breakfast, Rand and I met up with UT to rehearse a song they were going to be performing with us, and we showed them a couple of other things we were going to be performing as well. It was really, really good for me to have a chance to warm up.  After that, there were a couple of workshops. I ran one on calligraphy and paper crafts. Tim Walker ran a percussion workshop at the same time, which I am super bummed I couldn’t attend! I’ll write more about the workshop later. After the workshop, we grabbed a quick bite to eat in our room, and then it was go time!

(Photo by Debbie Ohi)

Here’s the set we played:

• Star Wars That I Used to Know (parody of “Somebody that I Used to Know” by Gotye. Credits can be found at the YouTube link)
• My Baby Loves a Bunch of Authors by Moxy Fruvous
• St. Brendan’s Way by Lowest of the Low
• Actually Ironic (parody? sort of? of “Ironic” by Alanis Morrissette)
• Dear Seanan (parody of “Dear Gina” by Seanan McGuire written by me and Merav Hoffman. Video and lyrics at the link.)
• Crackstatic by Ron Hawkins
• Yoshimi/Space Oddity/Major Tom mashup (Flaming Lips, David Bowie, Peter Schilling)
• Cliffs of Insanity (parody of “Green Hills of Harmony” written by me with help from Rand and an assist from Amanda. More info in my previous post, linked.)
• Still Can’t Buy Me Love by Ookla the Mok (with Urban Tapestry)

If you’re interested in the lyrics (other than the parodies I wrote/co-wrote, which can be found at the links), they can all quite easily be found by googling. I’m tired.

I’m pretty sure it was a success. After we left the stage, Tim and Annie (who knew how nervous I was) ran over to us and gave us gigantic hugs, and everyone we talked to seemed to enjoy the performance. So…singing! Win! Right now, the “Dear Seanan” video is the only one I am aware of. I’m sure other things will appear eventually, and I’ll let you know!

Here’s Allison’s post about Saturday at FKO. I’ll have more later. Stay tuned!

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

This one is called “Cliffs of Insanity” and it’s a parody of “Green Hills of Harmony” (which is itself a parody of “Farewell to Sicily” (or “Banks of Sicily”) a Scottish song from WWII). Subject matter should be apparent. 😉 Lyrics are by me and Rand.

The lady is kidnapped and Guilder is framed
The six-fingered man haunts my subconscious brain
The rhymes of the giant drive Vizzini insane
And that word doesn’t mean what he’s thinkin’

And it’s sail, sail away from that sailboat
He may be gaining, but we’re not afraid
As we sail for the cliffs of insanity
All of the eels are shrieking

We don’t want to kill her, but it’s hard to avoid
Vizzini has told us we’ll be unemployed — >
Fezzik offers a peanut — Vizzini’s annoyed
When we get to the top, we’ll be leavin’

And it’s scale, scale, the side of the mountain
Hang on to Fezzik — the man in black gains
As we climb up the Cliffs of Insanity
All of the eels are shrieking

It’s time for a fight now, and well-matched are we
But I’m not left-handed, and neither is he
I have to admit that he’s better than me
And I’m knocked on the head when he’s leavin’

And it’s sleep, sleep, sleep off the headwound
I’ll wait for Vizzini — I will not be moved
And it’s fare ye well, ye cliffs of insanity
All of the eels are shrieking

Some fight for the glory. Some fight for the pay
But I am the Spaniard, and fighting’s my way
It’s a hard life to live, and a high price to pay
When the six-fingered man is still breathin’

Hello — My name is Inigo Montoya
You killed my father — Prepare to die
And it’s fare ye well ye Cliffs of Insanity,
All of the eels are shrieking

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

I wrote this a few weeks ago, after the Steubenville verdict and ensuing reaction from the press. I wrote it and I was afraid to post it here, choosing instead to hide it in some more secret, anonymous spaces. Well, today, I say “eff that.”

Because then I read this story (and others, but it was mostly this one). Every time this happens, which is far too often, I am heartbroken. Again.

I’m starting out leaving comments on but moderated, but I’ll close them if I feel I have to.

Soapbox on.

TW: discussion of rape and rape culture. not graphic

You’re fourteen, and you go with a friend to a party at some older kids’ house. One of the boys asks you if you want something to drink, and you refuse a couple of times before saying, “Okay, I’ll have a Coke.” They bring you the coke and it kind of tastes funny, so you take a couple of sips and leave it somewhere before slipping away.

You’re sixteen, and you’re with your boyfriend at a graduation party, and some of the guys are sneaking extra booze into that girl’s drink when she’s not looking, and they’re laughing and making jokes. You don’t think anything happened to her, but you’re terrified about what could have happened.

You’re eighteen, and you’re trying to break up with that same boyfriend. He threatens to rape you, because if you’re going to leave, you’re going to leave really hating him. You’ve never been so scared…but then he stops and begs you to forgive him. (And you do, sort of, because you’re not quite ready to get out of this mess yet.)

You’re twenty-five, and you’re on a beach vacation with your girlfriends. You and one of the other girls are dancing and having a good time, so you stay out while everyone else goes back to the house. The guys you’re hanging out with invite you to come back to where they’re staying, a few miles down the road. Your friend drives, and you follow them. The guy you’re hanging out with turns out to be very sweet, a total gentleman, and one of the last things you say to him is, “Thank you for being a good guy,” because you can’t stop thinking about how differently this night might have turned out.

You’re twenty-nine, and you’re going to meet a guy you’ve been chatting with on an online dating site. You tell your roommate where you’re going, like you always do, “just in case.” You make jokes about it, but deep down, you know you’re not really kidding.

A comedian makes a joke about a member of his audience getting gang-raped, and the Internet jumps to defend him.

A story breaks about the gang rape of an eleven-year-old girl in Texas, and the media writes about what she was wearing.

A story breaks about a gruesome gang rape in India, and the Internet won’t shut up about how we must do something about those horrible woman-hating rapists over there. People warn their female friends who are visiting India to be careful.

A story breaks about the rape of a teenage girl in Ohio, and even as evidence mounts against the rapists, people blame the victim. The rapists are found guilty, and the media wrings its hands about how those poor boys’ lives are ruined. They don’t say very much about the victim, except to point out, at every opportunity, that she was drunk.

Don’t wear a skirt that’s too short. Don’t get too drunk. Don’t let your drink out of your sight. Don’t walk alone at night. Don’t be a slut. (And don’t forget, you don’t get to determine what it means to be a slut. Everyone else does.) Don’t be out there looking to have sex, because everyone knows if you want to have sex with someone, that’s just as good as wanting to have sex with anyone.

Don’t get raped.

Because if you get raped, it was obviously your fault.

Because if we can believe that, we can believe that it won’t happen to us.

Because if we can believe that, we don’t have to do anything about this problem. We don’t have to try to do better.

Because we don’t have a problem, do we?

Some other good reading on this and related topics:

No, dude, it’s not bigotry

F*ck everything, let’s talk about rape

Laurie Halse Anderson (author of Speak) weighs in

UPDATE: this link is on the Laurie Halse Anderson post, but I wanted to add it here, too.

Donate to RAINN

Originally published at erin-go-blog!. You can comment here or there.

So as you may recall, I posted a while back about Rand and I being invited to be the Filk Waifs (aka toastmasters) at FilKONtario this year. Well, the big event is coming up–very soon! (April 19-21)

I kind of think of FKO as a home convention…because it’s so close, we’re pretty much there every year. I haven’t missed one since Rand first brought me in 2005.

If you come, you might get to see me play the ukulele. Here I am playing a chord!

Other exciting things you will see/hear at FKO this year include:

Tim and Annie Walker, all the way from England! They are fantastic people as well as fantastic musicians, and I’m so looking forward to spending more time with them.

Urban Tapestry in concert! (That’s them on stage in the first photo I posted.) Debbie, Allison, and Jodi are among my favorite people in the entire world, and they are always wonderful in concert.

In addition to our concert and other filk waifing duties, I’ll be offering a calligraphy and papercrafting workshop, and Rand will be hosting a found filk circle. (Visit the FKO website by clicking the photo at the top of this post for more info. And if you’re reading this and wondering “what the heck is filk? check out Debbie Ohi’s Filk FAQ. Also, at the end of this post, I included a description I wrote during a particularly awesome filk circle at GAFilk in 2006).

I’m so looking forward to seeing everyone there!

(Rand and I performing “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” in a filk circle at FKO in 2009. Photo by Brooke Lunderville)

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