This has been a really transformative year for me, and I think it really deserves a look back.
At the start of the year, I was preparing to move to another country. I had already downsized my living quarters and started giving away all my non-essential stuff: books, DVDs, small appliances, collectibles, etc. Even if the job offer wasn't official yet, it was more or less a formality. I was apartment hunting in Bristol and SO excited.
As we all know, that did happen. I got the job (signed the contract and everything!), but due to an oversight by my new employer, found out that I couldn't get a work visa at all. I'd already quit my job here, terminated my lease cut and basically pried myself from my foundations here, but luckily, I was able to smooth all of that out and set everything to rights (except my dog, who had already been adopted by someone and I couldn't take back).
It really sucked, but the strangest thing was that I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. People around me kind of walked on eggshells for awhile, knowing that moving to England had been a dream of mine for half my life. While I was sad, I was far from devastated. I had an overwhelming feeling that it just wasn't meant to be, that I still had things to do here in Ottawa.
And I was right! And really, a lot of it has to do with cosplay.
Even though I didn't plan any major cosplays, because I didn't plan on going to any cons this year (because I was planning on being overseas) I did a couple of last-minute cosplays that, while not fancy, were good place-holders. And instead, I was able to focus on building up another cosplay areas instead: socializing. Being naturally introverted, cosplaying has always been about craftsmanship for me. But this year, I spent far less time crafting alone in my apartment, and much more crafting remotely with other cosplayers via an online cosplay hangouts, or with others at a secondary workshop (ie my friend's place, lol). And not only that, but I reached that point where I was seeing the same people at cons for the third or fourth time and deciding "Hey, maybe we should be friends!"
I realized at PopExpo in November that for the first time in a very long time, I was really looking forward to seeing people. Like, actual flesh and blood, in person, not just through a screen, IRL people. And not just that, people were happy to see me! Around every corner was a familiar face in glorious cosplay with a beaming smile and open arms for hugs (sometimes awkwardly, depending on the costume, lol). And I did wonderful things like plan a group cosplay and learn a new board game with two completely separate groups of friends (I was the little overlapping bit on the social Venn diagram, which was kind of neat). And even though it was a completely ridiculous environment (in the overall scheme of western culture), for once, I felt normal.
And of course, there's the fact that I did my first out-of-town cons this year - twice, in fact! I got to basically live my fantasy by being a booth babe for BioWare at Montreal Comiccon, as Commander Shepard, while hanging with my favourite characters from the game (ie. some AMAZING cosplayers), then being thanked by the Bioware crew and given some merch and invited to come back next year! *melt* Then, venturing a little further afield to Hal-Con in Halifax to spend some time at the con with my bestie who moved away last year.
And with all these new friends came new interests. I've expanded my hobbies into gaming and comics and I'm building a computer. I've added a handful of new fandoms to my repertoire, and opened my mind to dozens more that I wouldn't have considered a few years ago.
Ans as all this goodness was working on me, I was shaking the cobwebs out of my brain. I started thinking less about the things that were hurting me (which is pretty much just limited to my single-ness, but that's a big one) and more about good things, like how much I loved my new friends, and how maybe I was worth putting on a bit of makeup in the morning, and maybe my sexuality was a little more flexible than I thought, and that I really wanted to fit/look better in my costumes, so a personal trainer was in order.
That last one was a big one. I got a trainer in September, and I've managed to stick with it since then (for the most part, lol) . Four months of tracking calories, working out 5 days per week, and in the past month, adding more protein in the hopes of building some muscle. For cosplay, of course, ha ha! I have even signed up for a class for the first time in years! One that interests me, and is not too far away! So I start swordfighting in 3 weeks. ;)
2015 is the year of "The Force Awakens" and I think that's pretty appropriate descriptor of my life this year. This year, I feel like I'm starting to wake up. It's as if the failed England move was the shock to my system that was needed to jumpstart it. I'm motivated, happy, and I feel alive again after years of stumbling in a fog. My life took my arm, pulled me on the floor, and said "SHUT UP AND DANCE!!!"
And something tells me 2016 will be even better.... Happy new year everyone - see you in the future!
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Sunday, October 4, 2015
A Cosplay Love Letter
Last year on Valentine's day, I wrote "A Browncoats Love Letter" to express my affection and gratitude to my newfound friends of Browncoats Burlesque (and by extension, the burlesque community). And today, while my mind wandered on a long bus ride, I was thinking about how special my cosplay friends have come to mean to me as well, so I present "A Cosplay Love Letter"
Now, I've written many times about what cosplay means to me, and, being the introvert I am, the focus tends on myself and my own little world. But an unexpected byproduct of doing cosplay has been the people I've met at cons and cosplay events. For the first time since high school drama club, I started meeting people I had stuff in common with.
For the first little while, I did cosplay completely on my own. Like most of things I do, I just naturally did it alone and without help or company. I made it up as I went along. Then at every con, I met more people, more cosplayers. For a long time, I never wanted to go out anymore, and the idea of being around other people scared the bejeezus out of me because I had gotten so used to being poked fun of and even ridiculed for my hobbies and interests. But going to cons and meeting the wonderful people there made me actually WANT to go out to see them more.
And now, half my friends list is other geeks/cosplayers, most of whom I met in the past year or two. And the friendship I've been able to cultivate with many of you over Facebook and a few conventions per year has been immeasurably precious to me. I love having people that love the things I love, who understand my obscure nerdy jokes/references, and who joyfully celebrate weirdness in all its forms. And the cosplay community is so wonderfully open about sharing is wealth of knowledge that I went from my first con where I went in MacGyver-ed papier-maché armour to Masquerade Best-in-Show in just one year.
Words cannot express how amazing it feels when I'm wandering around a con floor and I run into someone I know in an ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR new costume. And I feel so much pride when I see one of my buddies winning a Masquerade prize or getting public recognition for their cosplay greatness that my heart just about bursts.
It means so much to me to have a group of people who not only won't judge me for my fandoms, but will most often than not, be there right along with me, jumping up and down and clapping like an excited 5-year-old. Your acceptance and kindness had become so much a part of who I am that I can't imagine doing cosplay without you now. Y'ALL ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY INTRICATELY CRAFTED COSPLAY WINGS!!!! Your talent keeps me striving for greater cosplay goals and your warmth and genuine camaraderie keeps me sane.
And I love each and every one of you! <3
Now, I've written many times about what cosplay means to me, and, being the introvert I am, the focus tends on myself and my own little world. But an unexpected byproduct of doing cosplay has been the people I've met at cons and cosplay events. For the first time since high school drama club, I started meeting people I had stuff in common with.
For the first little while, I did cosplay completely on my own. Like most of things I do, I just naturally did it alone and without help or company. I made it up as I went along. Then at every con, I met more people, more cosplayers. For a long time, I never wanted to go out anymore, and the idea of being around other people scared the bejeezus out of me because I had gotten so used to being poked fun of and even ridiculed for my hobbies and interests. But going to cons and meeting the wonderful people there made me actually WANT to go out to see them more.
And now, half my friends list is other geeks/cosplayers, most of whom I met in the past year or two. And the friendship I've been able to cultivate with many of you over Facebook and a few conventions per year has been immeasurably precious to me. I love having people that love the things I love, who understand my obscure nerdy jokes/references, and who joyfully celebrate weirdness in all its forms. And the cosplay community is so wonderfully open about sharing is wealth of knowledge that I went from my first con where I went in MacGyver-ed papier-maché armour to Masquerade Best-in-Show in just one year.
Words cannot express how amazing it feels when I'm wandering around a con floor and I run into someone I know in an ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR new costume. And I feel so much pride when I see one of my buddies winning a Masquerade prize or getting public recognition for their cosplay greatness that my heart just about bursts.
It means so much to me to have a group of people who not only won't judge me for my fandoms, but will most often than not, be there right along with me, jumping up and down and clapping like an excited 5-year-old. Your acceptance and kindness had become so much a part of who I am that I can't imagine doing cosplay without you now. Y'ALL ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY INTRICATELY CRAFTED COSPLAY WINGS!!!! Your talent keeps me striving for greater cosplay goals and your warmth and genuine camaraderie keeps me sane.
And I love each and every one of you! <3
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
On Sensory Deprivation
So I tried out a sensory deprivation tank last night, and a lot of people have asked me how it went, so I decided to document my experience here!
I went to Tank Action at 1663 Carling Ave in Ottawa ON. They have two tanks available, and the owner, Ryan is super nice. And the really awesome thing is that you can book your appointment and pay for it online. No fuss!
Here's their website: www.tankactionspa.com
The Basics + Pregame:
When I got there, I filled in my personals and signed a basic medical waiver. Then're I was escorted to the tank room. There was a rainfall shower (God, I love those), complete with shampoo, conditioner and shower gel, a table with various sundries (earplugs, moisturizer, qtips), towels, and hooks for my clothes. I was given a quick rundown of the process (shower, float, shower), the timer was set, and I was left to my own devices.
One really nice thing is that I was able to set the mood right away by shutting the lights off while I showered. The room had a few dim blue LEDs and the showerhead had blue and red LEDs that were just light enough to make my way around. It's relaxing and (I think) helps ease the transition into the complete black of the tank.
I knew I had product in my hair, so I quickly washed it, popped in some earplugs (optional, but I don't like water in my ears) and headed over the the mystical tank
The Tank
The tank itself was 8'x5'x5' with a hatch on one end (picture above - pic taken from the Tank Action website) and filled with body-temp, ultra-salted water. What I didn't expect was that the water was SO salted that it could scarcely be called water anymore. It was a little slimy, but so pleasantly warm that I didn't even care. I climbed into what was about a foot of water (maybe a bit more?), and shut the hatch.
Objective Experiences
I say "objective" here because, I think they are what most people will experience if they do this.
Since the water is so salty, my body immediately floated. I had to starfish to brace myself against the sides until the water settled, but once it did and I let go of the sides, it was a pretty neat feeling. It also took a couple of minutes to find the right arm position. The owner had made a few suggestions earlier, but eventually, I settled on hands interlocked, cradling the back of my head.
Since the water and air is body temperature, once the water stops moving, you feel weightless. Gravity no longer exists. Now, this is taking into account that I was able to relax fairly quickly, which some may not be able to do on the first go. Apparently, some need a of couple tries in the tank before being able to fully relax. I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess?
So once my body was sorted, I looked to my senses:
Sight: sight was right was out - I eventually opened my eyes and there was zero difference (though mentally, there was, which I'll touch on later).
Smell: There was a slightly unpleasant smell due to the salt, but you get used to that pretty quick and it becomes a non-issue.
Touch: as long as you stay still and don't touch the sides of the tank, you feel absolutely nothing. It's both eerie and fantastic. And funny thing: you don't want to touch anything either. The need vanishes.
Taste: Don't do it. I accidentally got a drop of it in my mouth. Blech.
Sound: The only sounds are the sounds of your own body, which become intensely loud. Your breathing, heartbeat and in my case, occasional tummy gurgle, can become a point of focus, or even a distraction.
Subjective Experiences:
This is where it gets weird.
The thing about sensory deprivation is that it basically strips away your senses - your body - and the focus is solely on your mind. And everyone's mind is different, so everyone's experience will be different is that aspect.
I went into this thinking it would either be really relaxing, or very trippy. And it was both.
I was in the tank for about 75 minutes. But to me, time turned all wibby-wobby. Sometimes it felt like I'd been in there forever, and sometimes, time didn't even exist.
A lot of things happen when you're alone with your thoughts without the distraction of the physical or, you know, time itself. So here is a collection (in no particular order) of things that I remember doing, thinking, feeling or seeing/hearing(?) while I was in the dark:
-focusing only on my breathing or heartbeat (okay this was actually the first thing I did, but it didn't take long for my mind to take over)
-being at the dawn of the time in the "primordial ooze"
-floating alone in the middle of the ocean
-the song "Bodies in Space" from Hair
-hearing a voice speaking to me in my mind - well, not "a voice", it was my own voice. My own voice speaking to me, giving me advice, both general life advice and romantic advice (heh, heh)
-the sensation of slowly floating upwards, but not being able to go further than the ceiling of the tank and a fleeting moment of frustration when I felt like I was pressed against the top of it. Also at this particular moment, the feeling of having a veil being over my face and wanting it to be pulled away, like there was something/someone important to be seen on the other side.
-travelling through a starfield
-often I would just marvel at the inky vastness of what I was feeling, particularly when my eyes were open. When my eyes were closed, I felt like I was bodiless in my own mind. When they were open, I felt like I was a body and mind in infinity.
-twitching my arms and legs from time to time just to ensure that they were, indeed, still there
So yeah, there was a lot going in my mind during that time. A lot or weirdness. But it was never frightening. It could be that I've always been very comfortable in my own mind, though.
The Aftermath:
The beeper on the timer went off, and I heard it from inside the tank, so it was SUPER loud when I opened the hatch. Which sucked. I was really glad I decided to turn the light off before getting in, because I think the loud beeping PLUS harsh lights would have seriously damaged my calm.
The first thing I noticed was the cold, so I hurried into the shower, the glorious rainfall shower and stayed there probably longer than I needed to, but whatever. It felt so good. I washed all the salt out of my hair, dried off and went back to the lobby. The first thing I noticed was that I felt SO RELAXED.
The owner asked how it went, and I didn't even want to speak, just smile dreamily, but I forced myself to speak. Noticing that I was far less enthusiastic as my usual self... I was. Just. So. Mellow. Outside, on the busy street, the sounds of traffic seemed deafening, much it was a minor annoyance. My whole body was ultra-relaxed - let the world worry for me for just now. Even witnessing an arrest on the bus home couldn't shake my calm. It was handled appropriately and professionally, so no worries....
All in all, it was a great experience that I would definitely do again. So whether you're looking for relaxation or meditation or just a neat experience, sensory deprivation tanks have my seal of approval!
I went to Tank Action at 1663 Carling Ave in Ottawa ON. They have two tanks available, and the owner, Ryan is super nice. And the really awesome thing is that you can book your appointment and pay for it online. No fuss!
Here's their website: www.tankactionspa.com
The Basics + Pregame:
When I got there, I filled in my personals and signed a basic medical waiver. Then're I was escorted to the tank room. There was a rainfall shower (God, I love those), complete with shampoo, conditioner and shower gel, a table with various sundries (earplugs, moisturizer, qtips), towels, and hooks for my clothes. I was given a quick rundown of the process (shower, float, shower), the timer was set, and I was left to my own devices.
One really nice thing is that I was able to set the mood right away by shutting the lights off while I showered. The room had a few dim blue LEDs and the showerhead had blue and red LEDs that were just light enough to make my way around. It's relaxing and (I think) helps ease the transition into the complete black of the tank.
I knew I had product in my hair, so I quickly washed it, popped in some earplugs (optional, but I don't like water in my ears) and headed over the the mystical tank
The Tank
The tank itself was 8'x5'x5' with a hatch on one end (picture above - pic taken from the Tank Action website) and filled with body-temp, ultra-salted water. What I didn't expect was that the water was SO salted that it could scarcely be called water anymore. It was a little slimy, but so pleasantly warm that I didn't even care. I climbed into what was about a foot of water (maybe a bit more?), and shut the hatch.
Objective Experiences
I say "objective" here because, I think they are what most people will experience if they do this.
Since the water is so salty, my body immediately floated. I had to starfish to brace myself against the sides until the water settled, but once it did and I let go of the sides, it was a pretty neat feeling. It also took a couple of minutes to find the right arm position. The owner had made a few suggestions earlier, but eventually, I settled on hands interlocked, cradling the back of my head.
Since the water and air is body temperature, once the water stops moving, you feel weightless. Gravity no longer exists. Now, this is taking into account that I was able to relax fairly quickly, which some may not be able to do on the first go. Apparently, some need a of couple tries in the tank before being able to fully relax. I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess?
So once my body was sorted, I looked to my senses:
Sight: sight was right was out - I eventually opened my eyes and there was zero difference (though mentally, there was, which I'll touch on later).
Smell: There was a slightly unpleasant smell due to the salt, but you get used to that pretty quick and it becomes a non-issue.
Touch: as long as you stay still and don't touch the sides of the tank, you feel absolutely nothing. It's both eerie and fantastic. And funny thing: you don't want to touch anything either. The need vanishes.
Taste: Don't do it. I accidentally got a drop of it in my mouth. Blech.
Sound: The only sounds are the sounds of your own body, which become intensely loud. Your breathing, heartbeat and in my case, occasional tummy gurgle, can become a point of focus, or even a distraction.
Subjective Experiences:
This is where it gets weird.
The thing about sensory deprivation is that it basically strips away your senses - your body - and the focus is solely on your mind. And everyone's mind is different, so everyone's experience will be different is that aspect.
I went into this thinking it would either be really relaxing, or very trippy. And it was both.
I was in the tank for about 75 minutes. But to me, time turned all wibby-wobby. Sometimes it felt like I'd been in there forever, and sometimes, time didn't even exist.
A lot of things happen when you're alone with your thoughts without the distraction of the physical or, you know, time itself. So here is a collection (in no particular order) of things that I remember doing, thinking, feeling or seeing/hearing(?) while I was in the dark:
-focusing only on my breathing or heartbeat (okay this was actually the first thing I did, but it didn't take long for my mind to take over)
-being at the dawn of the time in the "primordial ooze"
-floating alone in the middle of the ocean
-the song "Bodies in Space" from Hair
-hearing a voice speaking to me in my mind - well, not "a voice", it was my own voice. My own voice speaking to me, giving me advice, both general life advice and romantic advice (heh, heh)
-the sensation of slowly floating upwards, but not being able to go further than the ceiling of the tank and a fleeting moment of frustration when I felt like I was pressed against the top of it. Also at this particular moment, the feeling of having a veil being over my face and wanting it to be pulled away, like there was something/someone important to be seen on the other side.
-travelling through a starfield
-often I would just marvel at the inky vastness of what I was feeling, particularly when my eyes were open. When my eyes were closed, I felt like I was bodiless in my own mind. When they were open, I felt like I was a body and mind in infinity.
-twitching my arms and legs from time to time just to ensure that they were, indeed, still there
So yeah, there was a lot going in my mind during that time. A lot or weirdness. But it was never frightening. It could be that I've always been very comfortable in my own mind, though.
The Aftermath:
The beeper on the timer went off, and I heard it from inside the tank, so it was SUPER loud when I opened the hatch. Which sucked. I was really glad I decided to turn the light off before getting in, because I think the loud beeping PLUS harsh lights would have seriously damaged my calm.
The first thing I noticed was the cold, so I hurried into the shower, the glorious rainfall shower and stayed there probably longer than I needed to, but whatever. It felt so good. I washed all the salt out of my hair, dried off and went back to the lobby. The first thing I noticed was that I felt SO RELAXED.
The owner asked how it went, and I didn't even want to speak, just smile dreamily, but I forced myself to speak. Noticing that I was far less enthusiastic as my usual self... I was. Just. So. Mellow. Outside, on the busy street, the sounds of traffic seemed deafening, much it was a minor annoyance. My whole body was ultra-relaxed - let the world worry for me for just now. Even witnessing an arrest on the bus home couldn't shake my calm. It was handled appropriately and professionally, so no worries....
All in all, it was a great experience that I would definitely do again. So whether you're looking for relaxation or meditation or just a neat experience, sensory deprivation tanks have my seal of approval!
Thursday, July 9, 2015
On Cosplay Identities
Now that I've been cosplaying for a couple years, I'm starting to see a trend in my choice of costumes: Brienne of Tarth, Ronan Dex, Starbuck, Commander Shepard...
Elsa was a bit of an outlier, but more on that later, ha ha.
But first, let's go back a little further back
I started making costumes in Jr High. It started with Halloween: Dad said I was too old for him to buy me costumes, so I said "Fine! I'll make my own!" It started with ransacking my Mum's choir robes and old bridesmaids dresses, them moved on to Value Village runs....and as soon as I learned now to use a sewing machine in high school, Bouclair became my mecca.
I fell in love with historical costuming. I wanted to wear dresses with long skirts and corsets. Why? Because they made me feel pretty in a time when I didn't really feel pretty. Costuming filled a void in my life. it allowed me to feel glamorous and elegant for a brief time when I usually felt awkward and plain.
When I discovered cosplay a couple of years ago, I didn't really think about what I was choosing. I would just see a character I related to and then make that cosplay. All my cosplays are really an expression of myself, so when I wanted to channel the spirit of a character I admired, I had the chance to become them.
Elsa was the only cosplay I made purely to see if I could win the Ottawa Comiccon Masquerade. I chose it because I thought it would be popular and the judges would like it. Well, I was right, because I won best in show with it. But the funny thing is that I never felt completely at ease when I wore it. I'm already kind of a Disney princess in real life, so dressing as one didn't give me any satisfaction. BUT, it did give me the opportunity to learn that when I really apply myself, I can achieve great things. So there's that.
But what I really want to focus on is the overwhelming trend that I'm seeing in my choice of cosplay when left to my own devices. Because to me, cosplay isn't about winning awards or recognition (although I do try to make my costumes to high standards so that if I do compete, I can put up a good fight, ha ha ha!). To me, cosplay is about being able to channel a persona that I wish I was.
What do Brienne, Ronon, Starbuck and Shepard, have in common? It's pretty obvious. They're warriors. They're fearless. And in some key aspects my life, that's what I desperately wish I had.
Now, Commander Shepard is my very favourite cosplay. I wear her and it feels so natural, like I'm not wearing a cosplay, but just another version of myself. And I feel different when I'm in that N7 armour. For example, *I* wouldn't have the courage to tell a boy that I have feelings for him, but Shepard would have NO such troubles, now would she? Of course not! She saved the galaxy from extinction and romances whoever she wants and everybody loves her (except for a few batarians, maybe).
So for a couple hours at a convention, I can pretend that I'm not the awkward introverted girl who can barely talk to men in general, let alone to a guy she's attracted to, and instead become someone with courage and conviction, and who can kick ass if someone wrongs her. Not just that, but someone that others admire, rather than "that weird nerdy girl" that people point at and laugh.
My cosplays are so intimately linked to who I am now. I mean, being a part of a group cosplay is a different story. That's just for funsies. But when choosing my own solo cosplay, it's really about becoming someone I wish I could be, and hoping that some of that badassery will rub off on me.
And I love it when I see other cosplayers who have the same connection with their cosplays. Some people are incredibly talented and make impressive costumes and props, but they still look like people in costumes. And others, I wonder if they feel the same as I do, that their cosplays are an extension of themselves, because they look like they belong in their cosplays, like they *are* they characters, regardless of their actual craftsmanship.
Yes, my cosplay identities are a way to cope with my own little insecurities, but at the same time, they allow me moments of power that I carry with me long after I've left the con and put away my armour.
Elsa was a bit of an outlier, but more on that later, ha ha.
But first, let's go back a little further back
I started making costumes in Jr High. It started with Halloween: Dad said I was too old for him to buy me costumes, so I said "Fine! I'll make my own!" It started with ransacking my Mum's choir robes and old bridesmaids dresses, them moved on to Value Village runs....and as soon as I learned now to use a sewing machine in high school, Bouclair became my mecca.
I fell in love with historical costuming. I wanted to wear dresses with long skirts and corsets. Why? Because they made me feel pretty in a time when I didn't really feel pretty. Costuming filled a void in my life. it allowed me to feel glamorous and elegant for a brief time when I usually felt awkward and plain.
When I discovered cosplay a couple of years ago, I didn't really think about what I was choosing. I would just see a character I related to and then make that cosplay. All my cosplays are really an expression of myself, so when I wanted to channel the spirit of a character I admired, I had the chance to become them.
Elsa was the only cosplay I made purely to see if I could win the Ottawa Comiccon Masquerade. I chose it because I thought it would be popular and the judges would like it. Well, I was right, because I won best in show with it. But the funny thing is that I never felt completely at ease when I wore it. I'm already kind of a Disney princess in real life, so dressing as one didn't give me any satisfaction. BUT, it did give me the opportunity to learn that when I really apply myself, I can achieve great things. So there's that.
But what I really want to focus on is the overwhelming trend that I'm seeing in my choice of cosplay when left to my own devices. Because to me, cosplay isn't about winning awards or recognition (although I do try to make my costumes to high standards so that if I do compete, I can put up a good fight, ha ha ha!). To me, cosplay is about being able to channel a persona that I wish I was.
What do Brienne, Ronon, Starbuck and Shepard, have in common? It's pretty obvious. They're warriors. They're fearless. And in some key aspects my life, that's what I desperately wish I had.
Now, Commander Shepard is my very favourite cosplay. I wear her and it feels so natural, like I'm not wearing a cosplay, but just another version of myself. And I feel different when I'm in that N7 armour. For example, *I* wouldn't have the courage to tell a boy that I have feelings for him, but Shepard would have NO such troubles, now would she? Of course not! She saved the galaxy from extinction and romances whoever she wants and everybody loves her (except for a few batarians, maybe).
So for a couple hours at a convention, I can pretend that I'm not the awkward introverted girl who can barely talk to men in general, let alone to a guy she's attracted to, and instead become someone with courage and conviction, and who can kick ass if someone wrongs her. Not just that, but someone that others admire, rather than "that weird nerdy girl" that people point at and laugh.
My cosplays are so intimately linked to who I am now. I mean, being a part of a group cosplay is a different story. That's just for funsies. But when choosing my own solo cosplay, it's really about becoming someone I wish I could be, and hoping that some of that badassery will rub off on me.
And I love it when I see other cosplayers who have the same connection with their cosplays. Some people are incredibly talented and make impressive costumes and props, but they still look like people in costumes. And others, I wonder if they feel the same as I do, that their cosplays are an extension of themselves, because they look like they belong in their cosplays, like they *are* they characters, regardless of their actual craftsmanship.
Yes, my cosplay identities are a way to cope with my own little insecurities, but at the same time, they allow me moments of power that I carry with me long after I've left the con and put away my armour.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
On Fathers - Part II (Daddy and Papa)
I couldn't let Father's Day go by without giving a honourable mention to two very special fathers in my life.
It takes a lot a courage to ask a woman to give up her eggs for an altruistic egg donation. It's basically saying saying, 'Hey lady, can I have your kid, but you can't raise it? And you will potentially watch me raise your kid?" It has the potential to go very badly. Not just that, but to then turn to another woman and say, "Hey, can I just...borrow your body for 9 months to incubate my baby?"
My friend had some serious cojones when he decided that he wanted a baby. Your average straight couple doesn't think twice when planning for a baby: barring any fertility issues, sex = baby. But for a single gay man, shit gets complicated. When he asked if I would consider donating my eggs, I didn't even have to think about it. Of course I could! It's not like I'm using them!
Of course, we subsequently went through all kinds of discussions and psych/legal counselling at the fertility center before everything was finalized. But in my mind, there was never any doubt that I wanted to help. Nor was there every any doubt about how much he wanted to be a father.
I was a fairly gruelling process from what I heard and I was only a small part of it (hormones, blood tests, hormones, blood bests, hormones, blood tests, suck the eggs out, BYE!). It was expensive, he had to organize the reproductive cycles of two different women in two different cities with the fertility clinic in a third city, and still carry on with his own day-to-day as the owner of a business. Struggles that the majority of baby-making couples can't even begin to comprehend. But not only did he do it, he did it cheerfully. Every time I jokingly asked "So, it it worth it?" He enthusiastically replied with a resounding YES!!!! Especially when my egg donation resulting in a staggering number of fertilized embryos (12 in total from 20 harvested eggs) AND the implantation (with a single embryo) took on the first try.
So his courage and perseverance paid off, because now, his dream is a reality, and he's got the child he so wanted. And so, I think that Father's Day has an extra-special meaning because it's wasn't just a matter of sex = baby for him. His son is, I think, cherished all the more for the fact that he wasn't so easy to bring into the world. And that deserves celebration, because as long as I've known him, he's always been a passionate career man, but I think being "Daddy" is the best job title in the world in his opinion :)
But I can't talk about "Daddy" without mentioning "Papa." I don't know my friend's husband quite as well. They met while the IVF process was underway, but by the time I met him, they were in a serious relationship, and I was glad to know that the wee one would have even more love surrounding him. And soon, boyfriend became fiancee, and a few months after the birth, husband.
Biologically, this kid is my son, but I'm not his mother. My friend's husband is not related to the baby in any way, but he is, *without a doubt*, his father. And I think this is what being a parent truly is.
Fatherhood is not what's on your birth certificate, or what's encoded in your DNA. A father is who tucks you in, reads you bedtime stories, protects you, teaches you, provides for you. And so, Daddy and Papa, you embody what it is to be a father, regardless of DNA. And for that, I'm grateful, both for myself, and for the precious little one that you brought into the world.
It takes a lot a courage to ask a woman to give up her eggs for an altruistic egg donation. It's basically saying saying, 'Hey lady, can I have your kid, but you can't raise it? And you will potentially watch me raise your kid?" It has the potential to go very badly. Not just that, but to then turn to another woman and say, "Hey, can I just...borrow your body for 9 months to incubate my baby?"
My friend had some serious cojones when he decided that he wanted a baby. Your average straight couple doesn't think twice when planning for a baby: barring any fertility issues, sex = baby. But for a single gay man, shit gets complicated. When he asked if I would consider donating my eggs, I didn't even have to think about it. Of course I could! It's not like I'm using them!
Of course, we subsequently went through all kinds of discussions and psych/legal counselling at the fertility center before everything was finalized. But in my mind, there was never any doubt that I wanted to help. Nor was there every any doubt about how much he wanted to be a father.
I was a fairly gruelling process from what I heard and I was only a small part of it (hormones, blood tests, hormones, blood bests, hormones, blood tests, suck the eggs out, BYE!). It was expensive, he had to organize the reproductive cycles of two different women in two different cities with the fertility clinic in a third city, and still carry on with his own day-to-day as the owner of a business. Struggles that the majority of baby-making couples can't even begin to comprehend. But not only did he do it, he did it cheerfully. Every time I jokingly asked "So, it it worth it?" He enthusiastically replied with a resounding YES!!!! Especially when my egg donation resulting in a staggering number of fertilized embryos (12 in total from 20 harvested eggs) AND the implantation (with a single embryo) took on the first try.
So his courage and perseverance paid off, because now, his dream is a reality, and he's got the child he so wanted. And so, I think that Father's Day has an extra-special meaning because it's wasn't just a matter of sex = baby for him. His son is, I think, cherished all the more for the fact that he wasn't so easy to bring into the world. And that deserves celebration, because as long as I've known him, he's always been a passionate career man, but I think being "Daddy" is the best job title in the world in his opinion :)
But I can't talk about "Daddy" without mentioning "Papa." I don't know my friend's husband quite as well. They met while the IVF process was underway, but by the time I met him, they were in a serious relationship, and I was glad to know that the wee one would have even more love surrounding him. And soon, boyfriend became fiancee, and a few months after the birth, husband.
Biologically, this kid is my son, but I'm not his mother. My friend's husband is not related to the baby in any way, but he is, *without a doubt*, his father. And I think this is what being a parent truly is.
Fatherhood is not what's on your birth certificate, or what's encoded in your DNA. A father is who tucks you in, reads you bedtime stories, protects you, teaches you, provides for you. And so, Daddy and Papa, you embody what it is to be a father, regardless of DNA. And for that, I'm grateful, both for myself, and for the precious little one that you brought into the world.
On Fathers - Part I (An Open Letter to My Father)
Dear Dad,
This morning, I saw this video:
I won't lie.... It made me cry a little. Mostly because it's an emotional little video, and I'm pretty sure that was the intended response. But also because it made me think about the fact that today is Father's Day and I've felt a little father-less the last few years. I miss you!
But let's start with the video - it's encouraging kids to tell their father's why they're grateful. I know that a normal kid would just pick up a phone and call. But let's face it, I'm not a normal kid. I'm not so good with words when I talk, and I feel like I can better express myself through writing, and I want to do this justice.
First of all, I'm grateful for your strength. It's a quiet kind of resiliency that carried us through what I'm pretty sure was a terribly turbulent family situation. I'm still not completely sure what happened through those rough years, first when you and Mum were going through stuff, then when we were not terribly stable financially....but that's the point. You carried that burden and didn't, as some weaker parents do, try to unload their problems on their children. We were vaguely aware that times were tough - just enough to know that we couldn't have brand-name clothes or the newest greatest thing - but as children, we weren't subjected to adult problems. I'm so grateful that you took on those problems and let us be kids.
I'm grateful for your particular brand of morality. While we don't always agree on everything when it comes to world views, you raised me to have a strong moral compass. And you did it without forcing religion or political views on me. You taught me that knowing right from wrong, common sense, respect, critical thinking, and just plain being a good person trumps any dogmatic affiliation. Your own religious and political views were set and never changed as far as I know, but you encouraged me to explore, and blaze my own path. Oh sure, you made fun of some of my flakier claims, but it was never real ridicule, but a challenge to think critically about what I was claiming to believe and how it would affect me and those around me. You didn't seem to mind that I had my head in the clouds, as long as I kept my feet on the ground. And for that, I thank you.
I'm grateful for your cooking. I'm really sad that I don't get it on the regular anymore. I know that you gave us the recipes for Christmas, but it's just not the same as when you cook it. It was cooked with love.
I'm grateful that you didn't raise us as girly-girls. You once apologized to me for not teaching us more about makeup and clothes and boys when we were growing up. You compared us to our stepmother's girls: pretty, social, stylish and never lacking for male attention, and felt bad that we didn't have the same chance to shine in those areas. But instead, you taught us to be independent, resourceful, self-assured, and creative. Sure, I'm not the most stylish girl on the block, but I win awards at costume competitions! And my everyday makeup game may not turn the boy's heads, but I make jaws drop on the burlesque stage. Sure, there were a few years where I grumped when I couldn't have the latest fashions, but I'm grateful that you taught me that what I look like is not what defines me as a person.
Really, I am who I am because of you. Oh sure, I see a lot of Mom in me, too. But my core - my strength, resiliency, resourcefulness, self-respect, determination, and so much more - was learned from you. No father is perfect, but you are are absolute credit to fathers everywhere, and I hope that I ever marry and have kids, I can only hope that he's as loving a father as you.
I love you, Daddy!
Your eldest daughter,
~Leah
This morning, I saw this video:
I won't lie.... It made me cry a little. Mostly because it's an emotional little video, and I'm pretty sure that was the intended response. But also because it made me think about the fact that today is Father's Day and I've felt a little father-less the last few years. I miss you!
But let's start with the video - it's encouraging kids to tell their father's why they're grateful. I know that a normal kid would just pick up a phone and call. But let's face it, I'm not a normal kid. I'm not so good with words when I talk, and I feel like I can better express myself through writing, and I want to do this justice.
First of all, I'm grateful for your strength. It's a quiet kind of resiliency that carried us through what I'm pretty sure was a terribly turbulent family situation. I'm still not completely sure what happened through those rough years, first when you and Mum were going through stuff, then when we were not terribly stable financially....but that's the point. You carried that burden and didn't, as some weaker parents do, try to unload their problems on their children. We were vaguely aware that times were tough - just enough to know that we couldn't have brand-name clothes or the newest greatest thing - but as children, we weren't subjected to adult problems. I'm so grateful that you took on those problems and let us be kids.
I'm grateful for your particular brand of morality. While we don't always agree on everything when it comes to world views, you raised me to have a strong moral compass. And you did it without forcing religion or political views on me. You taught me that knowing right from wrong, common sense, respect, critical thinking, and just plain being a good person trumps any dogmatic affiliation. Your own religious and political views were set and never changed as far as I know, but you encouraged me to explore, and blaze my own path. Oh sure, you made fun of some of my flakier claims, but it was never real ridicule, but a challenge to think critically about what I was claiming to believe and how it would affect me and those around me. You didn't seem to mind that I had my head in the clouds, as long as I kept my feet on the ground. And for that, I thank you.
I'm grateful for your cooking. I'm really sad that I don't get it on the regular anymore. I know that you gave us the recipes for Christmas, but it's just not the same as when you cook it. It was cooked with love.
I'm grateful that you didn't raise us as girly-girls. You once apologized to me for not teaching us more about makeup and clothes and boys when we were growing up. You compared us to our stepmother's girls: pretty, social, stylish and never lacking for male attention, and felt bad that we didn't have the same chance to shine in those areas. But instead, you taught us to be independent, resourceful, self-assured, and creative. Sure, I'm not the most stylish girl on the block, but I win awards at costume competitions! And my everyday makeup game may not turn the boy's heads, but I make jaws drop on the burlesque stage. Sure, there were a few years where I grumped when I couldn't have the latest fashions, but I'm grateful that you taught me that what I look like is not what defines me as a person.
Really, I am who I am because of you. Oh sure, I see a lot of Mom in me, too. But my core - my strength, resiliency, resourcefulness, self-respect, determination, and so much more - was learned from you. No father is perfect, but you are are absolute credit to fathers everywhere, and I hope that I ever marry and have kids, I can only hope that he's as loving a father as you.
I love you, Daddy!
Your eldest daughter,
~Leah
Thursday, May 28, 2015
On The Friendzone
For the past 10 years, I've lamented the fact that I can't seem to find that sweet spot between one-night-stand and the friendzone.
I've been frustrated that every time I develop romantic feelings for a fellow, he never sees me as anything but a friend. And then I give up, because society tells me that once you're in the friendzone, you're SOL.
First of all, that's a problem, because it's robbed me of potentially good male friends (because I DO think men and women can be friends). But that's a discussion for another day....
More importantly, though, I've come to the realization that I WANT to be in the friendzone. I want to be friends before romance. I believe that it's so important to have that foundation of genuine companionship before adding sex into the mix.
Now, I think that attraction is there or not from the get-go, but I also think that romance doesn't need to be the focus for a relationship to develop. Is that the view of the population at large? Probably not. Are there others that think the same? There must be!
Now, you may be wondering why the sudden concern about the friendzone. Well, I was watching "Community" and thinking that my ideal relationship would be basically what Troy and Abed have, but with romance added in, haha!
And something tells me that I wouldn't be able to pick up some bro in a bar and invite him to build a blanket fort with me.
So rather than worry about being banished to the friendzone, why not embrace it? I'll make more friends, and eventually (and hopefully) find a guy with whom I can build blanket forts, go to InspectiCon, watch cartoons, and play in the Dreamatorium AND where he still wants to kiss me afterwards, ha ha!
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