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home_and_awayWell.
Went in to have my hair re-purpled today... got it really well highlighted and faintly violet-reddened instead. Is still good, though, and still makes me smile and trill. We shall keep the Jonathan who doesn't question the trill and who offers hugs at just the right moments, and we shall keep the trendycool hair he gives us. We shall think of it as camouflage and thank him for taking good care of us.
Managed to stave off my boss's attempts at putting me in eye make-up. Particularly, rose-coloured eyeliner that made me look as if I'd been crying. Maybe it's further evidence that I'm cracked a bit--when the boss says "You really undersell yourself; we're gonna be bringin' sexy back with you. Here--you need to play up your eyes...", my head understands that she's attempting to bond with me like she's bonded with every other girl in the shop...but my gut says "Why? Is it against policy for your employees to not wear make-up? Where was that in the handbook? Is this another aspect of my personality that I'm going to have to check at the door?" (and anyhow, why do I need to sell myself that way? I'm happy with the me in the mirror without paint, and I've netted the most wonderful man in three states. Who else would be buying? As an MT, I don't want clients to be concerned with how I LOOK--I want people who're concerned with what I can DO. Our priorities are different, hers and mine. That's all.)
So I got to figure out a tactful way to say thanks-but-no to the eye pencil of doom, and then figure out how to bring this woman into my space carefully so we're less strangers to each other.
Came home, then, after four hours of being on the other side of the glass wall between employees and guests, and finished Stranger in a Strange Land.
...
...
Well.
Now I understand Mike a bit better. A good deal better, actually.
But I can't escape the feeling that I've spent the past three days being preached at by a fascinating set of puppets who had Heinlein's hand up their backs. Not many of them felt like more than window dressing to me--all a lot of patter and movement, not a lot of depth.
(then again, I could be reacting to the constant patting-of-women-on-the-head even while giving lip service to their strength and ingenuity, etc. etc...)
(says Mark from off camera: "D'you think maybe that might've been part of the point?" and I'm not entirely certain which "that" he had in mind, but I suspect he may speak rightly. It bears thinking about, in spare cycles.)
So there's that.
And as soon as I get my little boy down for bed, that'll have been my day.
Freaked out and weird, from start to finish.
Still not sure what to make of any of it.
Went in to have my hair re-purpled today... got it really well highlighted and faintly violet-reddened instead. Is still good, though, and still makes me smile and trill. We shall keep the Jonathan who doesn't question the trill and who offers hugs at just the right moments, and we shall keep the trendycool hair he gives us. We shall think of it as camouflage and thank him for taking good care of us.
Managed to stave off my boss's attempts at putting me in eye make-up. Particularly, rose-coloured eyeliner that made me look as if I'd been crying. Maybe it's further evidence that I'm cracked a bit--when the boss says "You really undersell yourself; we're gonna be bringin' sexy back with you. Here--you need to play up your eyes...", my head understands that she's attempting to bond with me like she's bonded with every other girl in the shop...but my gut says "Why? Is it against policy for your employees to not wear make-up? Where was that in the handbook? Is this another aspect of my personality that I'm going to have to check at the door?" (and anyhow, why do I need to sell myself that way? I'm happy with the me in the mirror without paint, and I've netted the most wonderful man in three states. Who else would be buying? As an MT, I don't want clients to be concerned with how I LOOK--I want people who're concerned with what I can DO. Our priorities are different, hers and mine. That's all.)
So I got to figure out a tactful way to say thanks-but-no to the eye pencil of doom, and then figure out how to bring this woman into my space carefully so we're less strangers to each other.
Came home, then, after four hours of being on the other side of the glass wall between employees and guests, and finished Stranger in a Strange Land.
...
...
Well.
Now I understand Mike a bit better. A good deal better, actually.
But I can't escape the feeling that I've spent the past three days being preached at by a fascinating set of puppets who had Heinlein's hand up their backs. Not many of them felt like more than window dressing to me--all a lot of patter and movement, not a lot of depth.
(then again, I could be reacting to the constant patting-of-women-on-the-head even while giving lip service to their strength and ingenuity, etc. etc...)
(says Mark from off camera: "D'you think maybe that might've been part of the point?" and I'm not entirely certain which "that" he had in mind, but I suspect he may speak rightly. It bears thinking about, in spare cycles.)
So there's that.
And as soon as I get my little boy down for bed, that'll have been my day.
Freaked out and weird, from start to finish.
Still not sure what to make of any of it.
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Re: How to grok RAH
Date: 2007-08-31 01:12 pm (UTC)And I'll freely admit, my library's pub dates start at 1970 (Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave), and most of the collection are authored by women, and almost none of it is even vaguely hard SF. You want a quick peek into Jess's psyche? Pick up Anne McCaffrey's Rowan , Damia, and To Ride Pegasus. I love the characters, but I honestly have no idea how accurately she writes men. And that's an odd thought to have now, because those books were formative for me. Read 'em when I was 6, 8, and ~10, respectively.
So here's to vintage SF from male authors, for perspective. I've got one by Ben Bova going now that was minted in 2000 but scans like vintage so far; I figure something by Asimov's next. Suggestions? Anyone?
Never thirst, Mike.
~*J.