The Penitent Blogger

I am afraid I need to apologize.  Publicly.

I have felt guilty since the moment I published my last post.  It's been bugging me.  So I thought I should repent and say how very sorry I am.

In a moment of hyperbole, I implied that I hate Stephanie Meyer.  I do not.  I have never met her.  I am sure she is a very nice person.  A very nice, 14-year old girl stuck in a woman's body, with a serious unfulfilled bad-boy fantasy, and in need of lots of therapy.  I apologize for judging her the way I did.  It was unfair.

There.  I feel so much better.

Another Reason to Hate Stephanie Meyer

As if you needed another reason.  As if the swooning teen girls (and far too many of their mothers) were not reason enough.  As if rewriting the myth of vampires to suit her needs was not enough.  As if the fact that her shallow and salacious writing gets compared to -- I'm so ashamed to even say this -- Harry Potter with all its depth and development and, um, intelligence was not enough.

May I just say that even with all of that, I think there is a more important reason to feel disdain and loathing for the woman (or maybe it's her people, but still her fault).

She and the Twilight franchise have completely and unabashedly hijacked the red-black-white color scheme.

These used to be classy colors.  Colors you wear to a formal ball.  Colors of a contemporary wedding reception.  Even really hot lingerie.

But not now.  Now red-black-white means vampires.  Mainly one vampire trying not to eat his girlfriend, the love of his life.

"When he looks at me with those eyes, and I know he wants to kill me but won't, that's how I know he loves me."

Come on!  Really?  This is love?

I'm not going into a full rant about Twilight here.  There's just not enough time or exclamation points for my true feelings.

But I will not surrender red-black-white to her.  I will not let those colors make me see the black cover, pale hands, and red apple (as in forbidden fruit -- duh).

When I see those colors I am determined that I will see Victoria's Secret on Valentine's Day.  And I will feel good about it.  So there.

My Name is Robin and I'm a Trekkie

All chorus, "Hi, Robin."

"It's been a week since my last episode.  It might have been two or three episodes.  Okay, it was lots of episodes and a movie.  I'm so ashamed!"

*sobs into cupped hands*

Sometimes I'm a social Trekkie; others are watching and I find myself watching with them.  Other times I'm a closet Trekkie.  I watched all 172 episodes of Star Trek: Voyager in a two week period and no one knew.

Not really.  I mean, I really did watch all of Voyager in a two week period, but people knew.

I am a Trekkie, but I am not really ashamed of it.

Compared to "normal"  people (non-Star Trek people; the Star Trek version of a muggle) I would be considered pretty geeky.  I own all of The Original Series, The Next Generation, Voyager, the movies, and one season of Deep Space Nine (this one didn't grab me as much).  I own a bunch of action figures.  I own the customizable card game.  I own a plethora of books, because when they aren't making any more shows you get a "new episode" fix in a book.

But compared to Trekkers, the more serious end of the spectrum, I barely qualify as a Star Trek fan at all.  I have never been to a convention.  I have not staged a recreation of a Star Trek scene in any form:  live action, clay, action figures, pets.  I have never named a child or even a pet after a Star Trek character.  I have never written an episode or fan fiction.  And I do not have the schematics of any version of the Enterprise memorized.

But I do like Star Trek.  I like its hopefulness about the future.  I like the way it tackled tough social issues.  But mostly, I like it because it makes me think.  I don't like entertainment that is just fluff.  I want to think.  I want to puzzle.  I want to have a challenge to solve.  I like figuring things out.

And I like imagination.  Star Trek is nothing if not imagination.  (Sorry, Trekkers.  It's not real.)

I am exposing my children to Star Trek and will let them choose for themselves. (Choose wisely, little ones.)  I will hold my head up high and proclaim myself a Trekkie for all to see. 

Let the mocking begin!