I have codes.   I'm screening responses.  Leave me an E-mail address.

It has been a busy, busy week chez Jonquil and I had downloaded and transcoded Children of Earth but not yet watched.  Thanks to the unanimous opinion of my friendslist, that's five hours of my life I can spend elsewhere. 

P.S.   I'm retreating into comfort TV, the perfect examples being Poirot and Midsomer Murders, which are 90% about the decor and the dialogue; nobody you care about dies and everything turns out well-ish in the end.   This week's Torchwood, I am told, fails to qualify.

I recently had the occasion to write a sample TV column, so I figured I would post it here for your reading pleasure. I may do more in the future.

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“Virtuality” (8 PM ET, June 26th on Fox) is exactly the kind of show you would expect as a follow-up from Michael Taylor and Ronald D. Moore, the brains behind some of the most arresting moments on “Battlestar Galactica”.

The two-hour pilot is a visually stunning sci-fi character drama that questions the complex nature of reality – which is why it flat-out sucks that we’re not likely to see more of it in the future. While they’re airing the pilot, Fox has no plans to buy the series; a tragedy in my mind, but we’re at least afforded a brief glimpse into a show that-might-have-been.

“Virtuality” follows the twelve-member crew of Phaeton, a multi-billion dollar interstellar craft on a ten-year journey to the star Epsilon Eridani. Though the mission was intended to seek out signs of intelligent life, massive global weather changes on Earth have made Phaeton ‘the last, best hope’ for the fate of humanity – who watch their every move via the reality-show-within-a-show ‘Edge of Never’.

No pressure.

To give the crew much needed downtime from the tedium and tension of long-term spaceflight (and each other), they escape into virtual reality modules, allowing them to experience anything they can imagine. While computer whiz Billie becomes a rock-and-roll superspy and tough pilot Sue rides waves and mountains with equal aplomb, others use VR to explore their deepest desires and regrets.

As they reach go/no-go, the point where they must decide to continue on or turn around for home, one of their number turns out to be seriously ill, the mysterious ‘Consortium’ behind the reality show has started making vague threats – and a ‘glitch’ in the VR modules has begun to stalk them.

“Virtuality” uses its gorgeous visuals to emphasize the boundaries between the worlds the characters inhabit – hyper-real views of space, hand-held and surveillance footage for reality TV, and starkly surreal skies in VR. Though the ensemble cast allows for few characters to really shine in the pilot, the actors should all be commended for making the crew’s relationships seem authentic across the board. Psych officer/reality producer Roger Fallon is a standout; James D’Arcy treads the line between cutthroat and caring deftly, and Roger’s gift for rationalization marks him as bound for total insanity down the road.

An intriguing combination of science fiction, thriller, and ensemble drama, “Virtuality” has me dying to see what happens next. It’s a shame we’ll never know.

Bring on the fanfic!

 Via the Angry Black Woman.  Go, read about what could happen to any American.

We'll leave in the next few minutes to take Mandy to her adoption meeting. She's currently having her last romp around the house. I'm really gonna miss that pushy, mouthy little girl.

The good news is, Merlin has a forever home as well! And he'll stay with Mandy! The family that is adopting Mandy has decided to take him as well. He's not yet ready to go - he's still too little to be neutered - but as soon as he is, he has a home lined up.

Buster and Bobby are ready to go - they're going back to the shelter on Monday to look for forever homes. The Power of Pounce has compelled them to seek it out anywhere it can be found, even if that means no longer being afraid of those human folks. They have taken to launching full-blown invasions of the lap of anyone with food. They hang on the bars of the cage and beg to be let out and held and cuddled.

In just a couple weeks, we may not have any more kittens! (Yeah, right - like there won't be any more fosters coming in - but still! :P)

http://www.bigfatblog.com/will-drop-dead-diva-live-hype

Like it or not, fat people have been making it onto prime time television. The Biggest Loser proved to be ratings gold, inspiring multiple seasons and a veritable franchise of products. Two more fat exploitation reality shows have hit the airwaves this season-- Dance Your Ass Off and More to Love. So Margaret Cho understands why people in the size-acceptance world might be a little skeptical about her new show Drop Dead Diva which premiers on Sunday July 12 at 9pm on Lifetime. But she thinks this show gets body acceptance right.

Thanks to CarrieP and withoutscene, I was able to attend a meet and greet on behalf of BFB with Margaret Cho and Brooke Elliot, the “plus-size” star of Drop Dead Diva. It was a fairly intimate group of bloggers, and I even got some one-on-one time with Margaret. When I asked what attracted her to this project, she told me, “This is a show for those of us who struggle to be visible. It treats body image with dignity and hope. I think it will create a new sex symbol…a new ideal.”

Drop Dead Diva is billed as a “dramedy.” Here's the set-up: Shallow, size-0 Deb and fat, brilliant attorney Jane end up at the entrance to heaven at the same time after simultaneous accidents. In a twist of fate, Deb ends up being sent back to earth, but accidentally lands in Jane's body. Comedy ensues... or does it?

The trailer doesn't exactly set this show up to be the breakthrough that it claims to be. However, both Brooke and Margaret (who plays Deb/Jane's faithful assistant) were adamant that this was not one long fat joke à la Shallow Hal. While there is some awkwardness when Deb finds herself in Jane's body, Brooke explained, it's really part of a larger journey, and one that isn't completely focused on body size. “Deb starts realizing that her life as a thin woman wasn't exactly perfect, and that maybe she has some things to learn.” Brooke went on to say that she hopes "people will receive the show in the spirit in which it was intended. This is a delicate subject that hasn't always been handled well.”

Margaret Cho has long been on record as someone who has struggled with body acceptance and eating disorders, largely due to her early experiences in Hollywood. “I would never condone or be involved with a project that was about fat jokes. The reason I took the job in the first place was because it dealt with issues of body image with such respect and grace.” She hopes that this will be a show that women, especially mothers and daughters, will watch together, and embrace seeing a "more realistic" body portrayed on screen.

The writer and creator of the show, Josh Berman (who has written for CSI and Bones) had a real-life inspiration for the show. According to Margaret, he was significantly impacted by his grandmother, who in his words “was as wide as she was tall,” but never let her size interfere with living life to the fullest.

While I believe that the writers and stars of the show have the best of intentions, I did lament to the panel that this show required a gimmick to get a fat woman center stage...after all, this is the metaphorical “skinny woman trapped in a fat woman's body”--the mantra of dieting women everywhere. I would much rather see a show where the lead is a fat woman (in a fat woman’s body) who is empowered, happy and successful; that would be a true breakthrough. Brooke agreed, and said that she too--especially as a fat actress--hoped that this might be a launching pad for more diverse shows featuring fat women.

I guess the proof will be in the pudding. I'll be watching on Sunday, for better or worse, and hope to be pleasantly surprised.

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It's hard to believe that it's been a full week now since I lost Oscar. So many times, I've started to come here to write about him, or to write about something else, and just can't. It's like the words and the feelings are stopped up inside, and I just don't quite know how to express what he meant to me, or how much I lost.

He was my snuggle-bunny. My companion. My comforter. My confidant. My bed buddy. My baby. My nuisance. My best friend.

He was loud, obnoxious, scrawny, and spoiled rotten. parkrrrr used to claim that he wasn't actually a cat, but an alien that only had a vague notion of what a cat was supposed to look like. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, but he was cross-eyed as he could be. He howled. And he yowled. He'd walk around the house howling to hear himself make noise. If I called him from across the house, I'd hear him howling the whole way as he came running to me.

He was devoted to Rocky. They were my first two cats, and had been together for a very long time. When they were younger, Rocky would sometimes wander through the house calling for Oscar. Oscar would always respond, jumping up from wherever he was to go to Rocky. I truly believe that when Rocky died, Oscar stopped fighting, and went to be with him.

He was a fighter, though. He was sickly most of his life - his weight fluctuated drastically, but no one could ever figure out what was wrong. Even so, he hung on. It was only in the last two years that we figured out some of what was going on with him. He was diagnosed with cancer in January, 2008 - Dr. Fouty said that he probably wouldn't live longer than 6 months, at the most. But he wasn't listening - we had an extra year together.

Oscar had no dignity. Many of my friends heard tales of his sling - how I would drop him into a loop of fabric that I wore around my neck and shoulder, like a sling for a broken arm, and he would snuggle against my chest to sleep, purr, wash, and cuddle for hours at a time. I'd carry him like a baby, his gangly back legs sticking straight up in the air, or folded back over his body and head. He would cling to me so ferociously when I held him that I used to joke about having a baby spider monkey for a pet - there was a definite resemblance, with his long legs and tail.

He learned fairly early on that if he stood on his hind legs and pawed at a person, they would usually pick him up. Many visitors to the house experienced having their butts groped by an obnoxious, codependent Siamese cat.

He would sometimes "trance out", finding a spot to knead, and kneading for hours until he either tired himself out or was disturbed. One of his favorite things to knead was a soft fleece throw which I used to use at my computer. When he went to Georgia with us last Christmas, he spent much of the trip, coming and going, kneading that throw. When I buried him, I wrapped him in that throw. It seemed appropriate, since it had given him a great deal of comfort in life.

I'll never forget how he used to give me the "silent treatment" any time I was away for a night or more. He'd come into the room, but refuse to sit on me or look at me. Then he'd sit on me, but wouldn't look at me and would bite if I tried to pet or snuggle him. Finally, he'd relent and snuggle in, purring loudly. The entire process usually took a couple hours after I got home. He always forgave me in time for bed, though.

He slept for years snuggled against my chest, under the covers, me holding him like a teddy bear. If I turned over in the night, he'd get up, come to the other side of me, and paw at me until I stuffed him back in his spot under the covers. If he was locked out the room for any reason, he'd often sit outside the door (sometimes howling to be let in.) The moment it opened, he'd rush into the room, howling at the indignity of being locked out. He was my comforter. Nothing soothed me quite like burying my nose in his fur and feeling him purr in my arms. I can't count the nights that I cried myself to sleep in his fur - but he never seemed to mind. He was always there for me, and I usually felt better afterwards.

In a very real sense, Oscar saved my life on many occasions. During the lowest, saddest, and most desperate moments of my life, he was there with me. His love was unconditional. He loved me when I was unable to love myself or to imagine that another human being could ever be able to love me. He gave me something to live for. He reminded me that no matter how badly I'd been hurt, that I was still capable of love.

Since he's been gone, the house has been so quiet. So empty. He was a scrawny little cat, but his presence here in the house was enormous. I feel like I've lost a part of me, and it hurts so badly that it's almost numb.

I knew that one day, I'd have to say goodbye. I knew that it would hurt when I did. I don't think I ever realized, as much as I loved him, just how deeply he was entwined in my heart. I miss my boy.

Thank you, RTD, for *breaking* pretty much the whole of the Whoverse for me.

It's really appreciated.

No.

Really.

Also, in closing: fuck you again.

Still have the cold, which deducted a 2 hour nap from my afternoon. Managed 1,700 new words nonetheless. Should have time to wrap my weekly quota tomorrow. Tired of being sick.

Originally published at jlake.com.

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I have just had an e-mail exchange with a friend wherein I mentioned my impending birthdayness, he said he/they would have to remember to get me something*, I said I didn't mean to be hinty, and he said he'd prefer that I hint than that he forget.

People. You cannot forget my birthday. I don't mean you will remember. Noooo, I mean I will remind you.** Because I love my birthday. It is my favorite holiday ever except Christmas Eve and perhaps Lucia Day. I think everybody should get something nice on my birthday, ice cream or something. I have taken to responding to, "Happy birthday!" with, "Happy my birthday to you!" I am like the queen in this regard if few others.

I am still trying to work out the details of my birthday party. I'm having one, but I'm afraid it's going to be a much smaller one this year. This means many of the people who have enlivened past birthday parties will not be invited to this one. It's not because I don't like you any more, dear hearts. It's that I am pretty drastically short of energy. Last year it was extremely important to me that I have a big birthday party in the face of the vertigo. I don't have that much energy for grand gestures of defiance this year. I just...don't.

As I go backwards in my lj tagging past entries, I am struck by how much more mental and emotional energy I had for howling at the moon then. I thought 2008 was awful, but 2009 has taken the fight right out of me. I'm not giving up on the PT, and we're still seeing slow progress. I can do things I couldn't do this time last year. But also I admit that I am more resigned in some small areas. When I bruise myself, when I break things, when I can only enjoy part of something. I am frustrated when I have to say no to things that would be fun because I physically can't do them, and I'm particularly frustrated when I'm afraid that the friends I'm saying no to are getting the message that I don't want to instead of the message that I just plain can't. But the frustration is the small sigh, not the shower of tears.

I don't think this means I'm doing better with it. I also don't think this means I'm doing dangerously badly, since I'm still doing the PT etc., all the concrete stuff that will continue to make things better in measurable, concrete ways, and since the lack of emotional energy is comparatively limited. I'm still finding the energy and the focus to write, or rather I'm finding those things again after the early days of PT. And there's been a lot going on in my family lately, some of it really good but all of it pretty intense. I'm just...not long on cope right now, and it feels like vertigo-related outbursts will harm more than they help.

I thought about not mentioning the birthday party thing, but I've had so many years of "bring your neighbor's best friend's cousin if you like" sorts of birthday parties that I was afraid some of you would feel you'd personally offended me if there wasn't some kind of late-July/early-August invitation coming your way. And realio trulio you haven't, and I hope I haven't offended you, either, by bringing it up. I know it's not good manners to bring up parties people aren't invited to. But I am tired all the way through my bones, and I need to make my birthday party a little lower-key this year so as not to exacerbate that. I hope that's not hurtful to anyone.

*He is wrong. Remembering to get me something is strictly optional. I am extravagantly pleased with presents but not the least bit perturbed by their absence.
**July 26. Now you are reminded.

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Already there, actually. ;) Opening ceremonies at 6:00, a concert tonight at 11:00, a kids' concert at 1:00 tomorrow, and another set 1:00 Sunday. And I'll be selling out of my room (213). Sadly, two guests will not be here; Chris Christopher cancelled just this afternoon, and Artist GOH Darrell K. Sweet could not make it, as his wife had a heart attack earlier this week. She should recover; we wish them both well. Fortunately, the con got ahold of Beth Willinger to fill in, and her husband B.J. is coming along. I haven't seen them in years.

Who else is gonna be there? Or, if not, what are you doing this weekend?