melagee

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Farscape Fan Music Videos

Posted by melagee on October 26, 2012

I’m going to be super fangirly right now.

Back at the turn of the century, when Farscape was on television and I was loving every moment of it, my roommate-at-the-time found these fan made music videos and we would watch them over and over. They are every bit the epitome of cheesiness now, but back then I thought they were amazing. To be perfectly honest, the beginning of My Immortal still makes me choked up, but that’s really more about the fabulousness of Farscape than anything else.

At any rate, without these fan vids I never would have discovered the beauty that is Tom McRae, so I am sharing these wonderfully cheesey things with you.

Spoilers for all seasons, but not for the Peacekeeper Wars.

Also, if you haven’t watched Farscape yet, good god get to it.

 

A video about John and Aeryn ❤

The two Crichtons.

sigh.

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Some Thoughts on Being Fat

Posted by melagee on October 15, 2012

My friends are so beautiful, and it makes me horribly sad to see them hate on themselves. I understand the feelings – I empathize with them. I have spent so much time hating various parts of myself, and learning to love me has been and continues to be an uphill battle. I hope that someday I and every one of the wonderful people in my life know what it’s like to fully love every part of ourselves effortlessly.

Once I wrote a blog about trying on a bra, and at the risk of repeating myself, I am going to tell a similar story.

This past weekend I went to a clothing sale at Cherry Velvet Plus. They are mostly an online retailer selling pretty dresses for plus sized ladies. Because they’re not an actual retail outlet, the changing areas are really just portable screens, and don’t necessarily provide the full amount of coverage that you might like or expect. I was down to my underpants, wiggling into pretty dresses, and I was only hidden from about half the room. At one point the designer asked if I would mind if she came over to my side of the room for something, and I said “Sure. I don’t mind if other ladies see me in my underpants.”

This is true. Well, it’s mostly true. It’s about 80% true. But the part of me that said “Noooo, she will see how fat I am!” was squished down by the part of me that is stubborn and knows better and refuses to be cowed. The fact is, I know I am fat, and the dress designer knows I am fat, and everyone who meets me knows that I am fat. Whether another person sees me in my underpants or not makes no difference in how fat I actually am. Whether I see the photos taken of me or not, whether I allow photos to be taken, it doesn’t change who I am and what I look like. And I am okay with that.

Well, I am about 65% okay with that. But only because I know that trying not to be fat only makes me more miserable. Depriving myself of the things I enjoy, or forcing myself to do things I hate: that is not the way I want to live my life. I would like to get my emotional eating under control, but that is because I want my mental health to be strong, not because I want to be thin. What I want, more than anything, is to accept me for the way I am, whether it is fat, REALLY FAT, or not so fat. And I cannot reconcile being okay with my body with also trying to lose weight. I can’t. Maybe other people can, but I cannot. So I am making no effort – ZERO EFFORT – to be thinner or lose weight in any way. I am taking effort away from spin classes and dieting and putting it into convincing myself not to give a fuck if I take up more than my allotted space on the bus. I am telling myself that I can have back fat and cellulite and still wear nice things and be pretty. I am doing this, and I have been doing this, because I love the person I am inside my body, and I want to love who I am all over. And I deserve that, and fuck it even if people think I don’t deserve it I WANT IT and I will have it.

I’m not going to spend the rest of my life trying to change who I am. I’m not going to wait for life to begin. My life is happening right now, and I’m determined to enjoy it as much as possible, which leaves little-to-no time for hating.

I will still hate horrible people, though.

My friends are lovely and wonderful, and I want them to see that I understand how they feel about themselves sometimes, and I want them to see how I am fighting it, and I want them to fight it too, and maybe if we all fight it together, (in whatever way works for you) it will be so much easier.

I am full of optimism.

xoxoxoxoxo

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Some Brief Items About Europe (Mostly London)

Posted by melagee on July 18, 2012

I paid extra for my flights to and from Europe, and it was completely worth it. It wasn’t the fanciest class (premium economy), but there was lots of leg room and really yummy food and free champagne and wine. Also, we get a little kit with a blanket, eye mask, neck pillow, socks, a toothbrush, and ear plugs.

~

People told me Brits think peanut butter and chocolate is weird and you can’t find it except in specialty stores, but I saw Reeces Peanut Butter cups in every convenience-type store I went into. MORAL: People are big liars.

~

I do not understand why people take photos of museum artifacts. I went to the British Museum and admired the Rosetta Stone. I stood there for about 15 minutes while small children crowded around in that obnoxious way that only small children can really master (I assume their brains have not developed the ability to not be assholes), and I didn’t take a single photo. Flashes went off all around me, bouncing off the glass  case in which the stone sits.

Hey, look what I found:

Language slab.

It’s a photograph of the Rosetta Stone! Taken by a professional photographer! Without a pane of glass in the way! Shocking, right? I found it on google. It took me about five seconds. It was the first result. Now if I want to remember my time spent looking at the Rosetta Stone, I have this google image to help me. Why on earth would I or anyone else want to take a photo of the stone in the museum?

~

I went to the theatre many times in London, and so did every other north american tourist. Here are the shows I saw:

  • Singin’ in the Rain (magnificent!)
  • Top Hat (very good)
  • Sweeny Todd (well acted)
  • GATZ (8-hour production of the Great Gatsby; worth it in the end)
  • Henry V (actually left half-way through. not one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, and I really just wanted to see the Globe)
  • 42nd Street (so boring)
  • Wicked (love it, always)

~

I went to the cinema three times while in Europe. We saw Prometheus (awful) and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (hilarious) while in Belfast, and the popcorn was HORRIBLE. Stale, old, awful. But we went to a cheapy theatre, so maybe the popcorn is better at a higher class establishment.

In Amsterdam we saw The Amazing Spider-Man, which I liked but I remember liking the Sam Rami Spider-Man more, so take that for what it’s worth (a lot). The popcorn at this theatre was boxed and put out for people to pick up. I saw people walking along grabbing handfuls of popcorn out of the open boxes. It was gross.

~

When I die, please cremate me and put me somewhere in Highgate Cemetery. I suggest putting me in the side with Douglas Addams and Carl Marx, because that side is free and you can come visit me whenever you want (+ cost of airfare to London). Also, I am really doing you a huge favour, because the cemetery is near a really fantastic pizza place called Al Parco, and you will love it.

There are also some cats wandering around the cemetery, and it was the first time in two weeks that I had the chance to pet a kitty (not a euphemism).

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Based on a True Story

Posted by melagee on July 10, 2012

ME: (searching bags and pockets) Have you seen my dinosaur?

HIM: (pointing to chocolate dinosaur lollipop) Is that it?

ME: No, the other one.

HIM: (pointing to rainbow t-rex hoodie) That one?

ME: No, the other other one.

HIM: (pointing to dinosaur wall stickers) Those?

ME: No! My tiny t-rex!

HIM: (pointing to stuffed t-rex)

ME: Okay, now I feel like you’re just trying to make a point.

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Happy Station

Posted by melagee on July 2, 2012

In Amsterdam right across from the train station (Amsterdam Centraal) there is a tiny little ice cream shop called Happy Station. One day when it was ridiculously humid and I had walked 40 minutes through mobs of sweaty people, I met Daniel at Centraal (where he had just come off of an airless train filled with sweaty people) and he said to me, “How do you feel about ice cream?”

First, that is a question that never needs to be asked. Second, I feel pretty good about it. Third, I would go to a place called Happy Station if all they were selling were used socks.

This is a cup of ice cream from Happy Station:

Contains actual Happiness.

The actual ice cream is hidden from you, because you could not handle the sight of its deliciousness. But let me tell you something, people, it is delicious. They make an ice cream concoction that is something like a blizzard or a mcflurry, but instead of filling it full of chocolate and caramel and freeze dried fruit (all fairly tasty things in their own right), they fill the ice cream with fresh fruit!

…okay, and chocolate and sprinkles and stuff, if you actually want it. Whatever, there’s fresh fruit and it is magnificent. I was in Amsterdam for five days, and I went to Happy Station three times. Each time was happier than the last. My only regret is that I never had the opportunity to try the fresh pineapple. Also, that I did not go about ten more times. Also also, that I could not take it home with me. Also also also, that I do not have a pony.

 

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I Rode a Bike!

Posted by melagee on July 2, 2012

Listen, have we met? Do you know me? Because if you know me at all, you probably know that I am kind of afraid of bicycles. I don’t think they’re going to come to life and try to eat me, I’m just afraid of falling off of them if I try to ride them. I rode a bike when I was a wee girl, but as I got older my balance started to go to pot, and I became more afraid of smashing my teeth on the pavement or cracking my skull on the curb, so I stayed away from the things. I have always thought that I would be willing to ride a tricycle, though, as they have their own built-in balance.

It was with that thought that Daniel and I went into a bike shop in Amsterdam(ish) and asked if they had any trikes. The shop owner was nice enough not to look at me like I was insane, but he said no. However they did have a bike that was built low to the ground and with the pedals slightly forward, like this:

It’s called a “crank forward” bike. No, really.

I tried it out and Holy Crap, I could ride this bike. My feet could easily touch the ground, so if I started to tip one way or another, I could just plant myself and stay upright. So we rented the bike and I RODE. Brother, did I ride. We were riding bikes for about 3-4 hours.

I was crazy! I started out all shaky and nervous, but by the end of the day I was all turning corners and avoiding cars and people, and being my badass self on a bicycle! I had went up hills (and down hills), and tiny dirt paths, and on the street! Where the cars go! Me! On a bike!! It was amazing! I was amazing.

That afternoon gave me a horrible sun burn, awful aches in my arm muscles, and the first really good reason to live in Amsterdam. The infrastructure for bikes there is unbelievable; I think there are more people riding bikes than are driving cars. There are dedicated bike lanes Everywhere, often with built up dividers between the bikes and the cars. Daniel told me ahead of time that bikes were so very very commonplace in Amsterdam, but it really didn’t prepare me for the reality of it. The idea of being able to ride a bicycle anywhere you want and not worry about being mowed down by traffic is awfully appealing. I think about riding a bike here in Vancouver and I am terrified at the thought of being caught in traffic. And if you think it’s no big deal, then hooray for you; to me, riding a bike in Vancouver traffic is a big deal. Riding a bike in Amsterdam traffic is carefree and liberating. It is a supremely tempting thought.

As a side note, Daniel’s house is actually in Bussum, a lovely little town about a 30-minute train ride from Amsterdam, and that’s where we rode our bikes. Riding in Amsterdam proper would have been a little scarier,  but only because it’s so much more dense (with bikes). Bussum is delightful, and I liked it much much more than Amsterdam.

Another aside, I named the bike Paul. If you know me at all, you’ll know why.

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