Praise for The 100

Let me preface this with: I don’t like sci-fi. I am just not a science fiction kinda gal. I think I have a total of two or three books that are sci-fi and I cannot tell you the last sci-fi movie I watched (I think it was Star Trek: Into Darkness).

What I can tell you is what sci-fi show I watched last: The 100.

Now, seeing a title like that doesn’t really explain much. One hundred what? Balloons? Monkeys? Tanks? Bananas? We just don’t know! It’s a mystery!

So with nothing more than a “YOU SHOULD WATCH THE 100” I dove right in.

And discovered this little gem of a show (can CW shows be called little? I think the biggest show for it is the Vampire Diaries followed by Supernatural and maybe Reign) about one hundred seventeen and under year olds being sent to Earth.


Basically, humans done fucked up, nuked the hell out of Earth, have been circling in a large space station called the ARK for ninety-seven years, and there are problems with the ARK. The government in place decides to take all the prison inmates (which all under the age of 18 because of laws in place) and send them – you guessed it – Earth.

Because what could be better than sending teenagers to a potentially hazardous place? I dunno, maybe have planned better for the future?

So right out of the gate we meet an inmate named Clarke – who is not a Griswold, dismayed as I was to learn – and is actually female. She’s basically a traitor to the state spaceship because of parental ties yadda yadda yadda she’s in prison, she gets sent to Earth.

Now like I said, I don’t do sci-fi. It is not a genre I particularly enjoy. Space is not my cup of tea and I’m good with that.

Two headed deer, however, totally are.

Thaaaaat’s right! Life on Earth, save plants which seem to have not evolved, is starting to change due to the conditions, which really is something, considering there’s supposed to be an ass ton of radiation there. So the first animal we see? A buck with a face growing… out of his face.

And it didn’t look cheesy. You’d think that in 2014, when season 1 first came out, we’d have great special effects, but not so much (there’s so far only one instance where the CGI has been absolute crap, but I won’t tell you where). I’m happy to say that the camerawork and the effects are delightful. In all their weird, gory, radioactive ways. And by that, I mean, it’s not bad, as far as I can tell, but I’m not a film student.

The most impressive part to me, so far, is that the acting is actually really good. There are actors out there that just cannot act their parts, and it’s annoying (cast of Glee) but I feel that the characters are believable; there’s no true good or bad person (except for Murphy, that crappot) in this show, and I think that so far, the only role that’s showing up for anyone is Clarke being the Healer.

I also like the story-line. There’s so far no extraneous multiple story-lines that can’t be solved within one episode (*cough* Supernatural *cough*) and I could actually believe that the people would react how they would in the different situations they have to go through.

So once the 100 reach the Earth, it becomes a matter of survival – I mean, really, what the hell are you gonna do in an unknown place that no one has lived in for the last 97 years? – while the people in the ARK are racing against the clock to survive.

I kind of feel like this is a G-rated sci-fi version of Game of Thrones, but less incest. I’m only on episode 8 of season 1, but maybe I’ll update how I feel once I hit season 2!


Judgy McJudgerson the Judge

To be honest, I wanted to write a series of posts that would appear weekly on your dash about several television shows I really, really, really hate. Then I thought about people who like those shows and how they’d react to someone dissing their favorite characters and the situations they have to go through. How would they judge me? (There goes one of my New Years resolutions…)

Isn’t it interesting? The whole judging thing?

We’re always told not to judge a book by its cover; Christians (I don’t know about other religions, if someone could give me any information about this, that would be fantastic) are taught that the only being who can judge a person is God themself. So why don’t we try to live like this? Why do we constantly judge people around us?

I’ve caught myself so many times judging another person, that automatically, I now tell myself, “Hey, it’s their decision, I am not in their shoes.” Afterwards, I feel kinda bad. Even if it is something that might be natural or innate to do.

But what is it that causes us to judge another person? A lack of self-confidence? Second-hand embarrassment? An evil personality trait inherited from our great-great-great-great cousin twice removed on our maternal grandmother’s great aunt’s side of the family?

So how do you react when you catch yourself judging someone else? What causes it? How do you feel afterwards?

The Gator, the Duck, and the Pebble

I started writing this before NaNoWriMo 2014, and I just went back to it, to look it over. I thought I’d share what I had with you! Please enjoy my first – and only – attempt at the ‘hardboiled’ genre.

Blowing on the steaming hot cup of Oolong tea, P.I. Gator wandered into his office. Despite the fact that he had been out all night, tailing the Mayor’s granddaughter, Gator still arrived promptly at seven am. Sitting in his big, comfy chair, he closed his eyes for a moment, hoping today would be easy.
                Letting out a sigh, he looked at his memos: there was something about a paper shortage, that the coffee machine was broken and… a new case. Gator kicked his desk; what were the higher ups thinking? He had more than enough on his plate already, why were they giving him more work?
                He dialed Sharon’s number, tapping his fingers angrily against the wooden surface of his desk. Sharon would most likely know why they’d given him this case – after all, Sharon Pachy was a wonderful asset in the personal assistant department as well as amateurish investigating skills. There was a click on the other end and before Sharon said anything, Gator demanded, “Why do I have another case? I’m already working on the Mayor’s case, which is hard enough as is; I’ve also got a stolen painting to locate as well as a cheating husband. What’s the big idea, eh? Don’t they know I’m –“
                “Sir, they gave you that case because they felt you’d do it quickly. In fact, the lady in your new cast just arrived. I’m sending her in now,” Sharon stated briskly. There was a click, and Gator dropped his head on his desk. Not how he envisioned how his morning was going to go.
                The door opened and there was a soft shuffling, before the door clicked shut. Stillness; Gator lifted his head and found himself looking at a fashionably dressed woman, nervously clutching her purse. She turned towards him and blinked, before asking, “Mister Al E. Gator? I’m Delilah Mallard. I need your help.”
                “I assume that’s why you’re in my office. Please sit and tell me why you’re here,” Gator snapped, rubbing his brow. Of all the broads that could’ve walked into this office, it had to be a Mallard. You’d never suspect it, but the Mallards’ were actually the top mob bosses in this city. There was something about a duck holding anything remotely dangerous that was quite unnerving. Also, getting hit by those wings hurt a lot.
                Ms. Mallard fluttered up, and made herself comfortable before speaking again. “I can’t go to the cops and I definitely cannot go to my family; if they knew, they’d kill me. Quite possibly literally,” she paused, squeezed her purse strap, then continued on, “I’m engaged to Stan ‘Big Stone’ Rockhopper; I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” Gator nodded; of course he had. Big Stone was the heir to a vast crime ring encircling the western hemisphere. It would only make sense for the Mallards and Rockhoppers to make an alliance, albeit a dangerous one.
                “So where do I come in? Am I looking for a mistress, are you in love with someone else? What’s this gotta do with me?” leaning back in his chair, Gator took a sip of his now cooled tea.
                Delilah laughed, “Oh heaven’s no! I couldn’t care less if he had a mistress; most of the men in the mob do. And I wouldn’t dare risk my life for some other man, are you crazy? No, I lost something and I need help finding it.”
                Gator leapt up, furious, “What do you mean you lost something? Do you know how busy I am?! I am not a… a… FINDER! I am an investigator and I have more important things to do than help some doe find a rock!”

2015 New Years Resolutions

I don’t normally give a flying rat’s ass about my New Years resolutions; it’s not something I’m interested in – usually. But to be honest, a lot has changed over the past year. I’m a little more interested in making some and attempting to keep them than not making any for this coming year.

So here’s a list, which I may or may not keep (hopefully I will; root for me, I need all the support I can get):

  1. Write – at least a paragraph, hopefully more. Keep those gears oiled.
  2. Read as much as possible; read new genres and new books – seriously, new books. You can do it, self, you can read new books. They cannot hurt you; it’s exciting to read something new.
  3. Continue Feathered – even if you don’t publish it, you can at least finish it. Prepare for NaNoWriMo.
  4. Be a lot more diligent about my health. This could mean losing weight, eating better, going to the doctor. For real, self, this is as good a year as any to be healthy. Doooooo iiiiiit.
  5. Forget about what other people think. If I want to dye my hair bright pink, I’m gonna damn well do it.
  6. As I’ve said before, continue to update this blog. I’m not letting its third year disappear with less than ten posts.

That’s literally all I can think of at the moment. As the night progresses, I fear I’m getting more sleepy. My brain is slowly shutting down – I’m sorry there’s not two thousand and fifteen resolutions for you to read!