bowtrunckle: (volcano)
1.  I knew that the SPN community on LJ has been in decline for a while, but I just about choked when I saw the most recent spnnewsletter.  A total of 8 items posted in the last day, 3 of which are fic?  Really?  I can't help but wonder if posts from some comms accidentally got left out, but somehow I'm inclined to think that it may be due to an overall lack of fannish inspiration.  Is this what happens when a show gets a little long in the tooth?  :(

2.  Who else is watching Kripke's "Revolution" on NBC?  Anyone?  Bueller?  Is it bad that I keep inserting Sam and Dean and thinking, "This would be so much better if there were Winchesters," or imagining that it's really SPN's 2014 post-apocalypse universe and expecting Dean and his thigh holster and stoner!Cas and his sandals to pop up from behind a bush, or saying out loud that "Revolution" needs a toilet-paper hoarding character like Chuck.  Bargh.  Apparently Show has ruined me for all other shows.

3.  I finally watched "The Hunger Games".  I know, I'm totally behind in pretty much everything (Don't even ask about my clothes.  I now understand those mom makeovers whereas before I always wondered how the heck someone could let themselves wear such clothes and look so ... mom-ish.  If I ever want to be stylish again, I'm going to have to go back to working outside the home so I have an excuse to literally buy an entire new wardrobe.  Yes, it's that bad.).  Now I'm going to have to actually read the books.  Wish me luck.  I haven't had the attention and time to read a published book since T was born.  Does anyone know anything about the "Hunger Games" fandom?  Active?  General demographic?  Super wanky and/or irrationally shippy?  LJ communities, yay or nay?

4.  How scary is "The Walking Dead"?  Like nightmare worthy or just-jump-around-in-your-seat-then-laugh-at-yourself scary or I'm-never-going-into-my-garage-at-night-EVER-AGAIN-EVER scary?  I watched a webisode series quite a while ago and cried the whole time because I was freaked out (OK, not cry cried, but apparently the flight and fright part of my lizard brain is hot wired to my tear ducts, I know, WEIRD).  Now I want to watch it because ZOMBIES *makes a zombie face*, but I'm afraid I'm just going to be a freaked-out teary mess who goes through a box of Kleenex every episode and then never goes into the garage at night EVER AGAIN EVER.

5.  Boston, you're in my thoughts tonight. 
bowtrunckle: (Dean big cheeks :D)
“As Time Goes By” (8x12) was Serge Ladouceur’s, SPN’s Director of Photography, first solo directing gig.  I thought it was well done.  Not only was it filled with pleasantly surprising choices but also showed an understanding of how to exploit the camera to tell a complimentary visual story to the scripted story, making it feel like he really understood the dramatic purpose behind the scenes and manipulated the visual elements effectively and accordingly.  There are four notable examples that stood out to me that I’m going to geek out talk about below.

Wherein I go crazy with screencaps. )

bowtrunckle: (OMG ONOZ)
Really? )
bowtrunckle: (Sam laughing)

Apparently this is what happens when an episode (8x10) leaves me making my bhuz face and saying, “Really?” at the TV

It's all about familiarity and liking what we know we like. )

SPN 8x12

Jan. 31st, 2013 01:58 am
bowtrunckle: (Default)
So I said that I was going to be hanging out on LJ more.  Well, this is what you get...

Train of thought blatherings and this is how I am at 2 am )
bowtrunckle: (Jumping on the beach)

The last year and a half has been tough.  Pregnancy-induced anemia, baby #2 and the whole newborn and prolonged sleep deprivation hullabaloo, an Autism diagnosis for kid #1, a new house, moving into the new house, all on top of regular life and adjusting to having two kids under the age of 3 running around.  During that time free time was a rare luxury and, out of necessity, any surpluses of mental and emotional energy was allocated to decompression personal time, family, and RL friends in that order.

My fannish online time consisted of flyby speed reads of my flist and maybe leaving the occasional emoticon as a sad excuse for a comment.  And even though I would’ve liked to engage in thinkiness and many of the interesting discussions I’m sure were circulating, I couldn’t read anything more than a couple of paragraphs of text because I was mentally and emotionally overwhelmed and exhausted.  But more worrisome, my sense of humor divorced me and my dorky, geektastic, silly self retreated to a dark corner of my brain and decided not to come out until I stopped playing emergency grown-up.  In short, real life kidnapped me and didn’t bother leaving a ransom note at my LJ.

So sorry, flist, for being MIA for … years.  :(  I can’t promise I’ll be as active in fandom as I was back in the S2-S3 era of supersonic fangirl squee, but I’m finding that I’m feeling more energetic and inspired and itching for some fannish projects and good old discussions.  I’ve got a couple of posts brewing that I’m jazzed about, including some thoughts about why I feel like SPN is backwards and inside out this season, a visual meta about the influence of Gothic literature in SPN circa “Playthings” (2x11), and some blabberings about the writers’ execution and the audiences’ perception regarding supporting characters.  It feels good to have extracurricular thoughts again.  :)  For a while I thought my brain was permanently stuck on RL mode.  But most of all I’m feeling excited about just being here again.  *looks around and makes victory arms*

So cheers to 2013 and hopefully some extra time to get reacquainted with you, my flist!  You can expect more updates from me, personal and fannish.  And even though I may not have anything intelligent or worthwhile to say, you may be seeing me pop up at your journals more often.  Watch out!  *hurkie jumps and pompoms and manic smiley faces*

bowtrunckle: (Sam laughing)

I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed how awesome the Sam-and-Dean-stalk-around-the-warehouse scene was.  It was visually the most memorable of the episode not only because it was Sam and Dean and their badass selves stalking around a warehouse but also because it was *dramatic* looking.  But what does dramatic mean exactly?  How do you define it visually?  And how do you make a scene look dramatic using camera, lights, and actors with rubber knives tiptoeing around?  There’s not a single answer for any of that as, I think, most of it’s contextual, but here’s an attempt to breakdown this scene to see some ways it was made to look so badass cool and *dramatic*.

Read more... )

If you're interested in more nerdy camera talk for this episode go here.


Nov. 6th, 2012 11:24 pm
bowtrunckle: (*YAY*)
bowtrunckle: (Dr. Horrible Whoohoo!)
While I put K down to sleep for the night, I watch parts of mindless TV shows on Hulu on my computer with my headphones.  Tonight I was watching short clips from some of this weekend's ComiCon panels when I stumbled upon a mention of a 10th Anniversary Firefly Panel and promptly and silently (because, you know, drowsy baby in lap) freaked out.  Then, of course, being that I have no self control, I watched the entire 55+ minute panel instead of doing laundry (yes, I do laundry at night) or dishes (ugh, dishes) or helping my husband put T to bed even though I could hear them singing songs and someone jumping on the bed on the other side of the wall (shhh, some nights it takes a really long time to put K to sleep *nudgewink*). 

But, wow.  If you've ever wanted to see Nathan Fillion grab wads of Kleenex and cry (multiple times) or Joss Whedon get verklempt and teary while making impassioned speeches (multiple times), now's your chance.  I've never seen such an emotional or passionate panel.  And what amazes me even more is that this was for a show (and subsequent feature film) that aired a decade ago and was only 14 episodes long *boggles*.  Talk about resonating with fans.  It's hard to imagine what kind of following and response Firefly would've received if the show was allowed to fully develop or even finish out a full season or two.  Two thumbs down FOX executives.  I bet they've been eating their hat(s) for the last decade.  Booya! 

So for all you Browncoats still out there, watch this.  Don't forget your Kleenex. :')

bowtrunckle: (Sam the Geek Boy)

This originally was intended to be a small comment for [ profile] spnematography’s episode discussion for “Reading is Fundamental” (7x21), but it grew into something bigger and took me too long to post in a timely manner for the discussion prompt.  So, weeks months later, here it is.  Whoops, deadlines.

The meta fairy visited... )
bowtrunckle: (Dean easy tiger)

An article was posted about how JA and JP approach their craft and the story behind the camera.  The second paragraph of the article discusses JA’s directorial choices.  It reads:

Yay! )
bowtrunckle: ("Haha ... No")
Edlund leaving SPN.

What?!??!!  Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.... *crumples to the floor*

My inner fangirl is in a tizzy )
bowtrunckle: ("BWAH?")

Huh.... )
bowtrunckle: (I'm online cat)

Hello virtual world!  *waves with both hands*  I don’t know if anyone is reading this journal anymore but I thought I’d jump in and babble for a while since the stars have aligned and K is actually NAPPING.  OMG.  A miracle.  *pees pants out of excitement*

Nattering about TeeVee and potties and much needed vacations )

bowtrunckle: (unicorn fart)
In which there are a lot of pictures )
bowtrunckle: (Default)
I'm so articulate ... whoa intense.  Maximize the screen, turn the volume up and put on your headphones for these.

bowtrunckle: (Andy Insanity)
Being a Mom? I quit. Seriously. That bullet train zooming between France and Britain, untouchable and buried under hundreds of feet of water and on the other side of the gigantic ocean called the Atlantic? I’m on it. It’s dark and quiet and I have my own music playing loudly and I have two free hands and I can sit on my computer and be a dork and drink coffee and wine (maybe even both at the same time just for the hell of it). But most of all I’m utterly and completely ALONE. There is no dinner to make, no laundry reproducing in the closet, no Little People or plastic potatoes waiting to ambush my feet on the way to the kitchen at 2 am, no Elmo stickers clandestinely hiding on the back of my sweater or my butt when I go to the grocery store. Nobody wants to suck on my boob or is crying because their banana broke in half. My showers don’t include a crotch-high peeping tom licking the shower door. My laptop is not playing Super Why or Elmo and Friends or The Wiggles. I can talk on my phone without it being commendeered for that talking, farting, cake-throwing cat app. My hair is styled in something other than a ponytail. I do not smell like baby barf. I’m blissfully unaware that newborn baby poop looks like mustard and cottage cheese had a wrestling match. I don’t have to make a plan of attack that would rival anything the Pentagon could draft and requires 6 trips from the car to unload 2 kids, a double stroller, a diaper bag, library books that only have cartoon characters on the covers, and groceries that always include toilet paper, laundry detergent, and macaroni and cheese. I am composed and unhurried and look calm and serene and smile at everybody. People think I’m awesome. I don’t have to wrestle anybody into their pajamas backwards at 3 pm everyday because they’ll strip naked and use their room as a toilet. There is no such thing as potty training. Or dirty diapers. Or diapers whatsoever. I can read the newspaper without it being ripped in half or chewed on or drooled on. I can sit and eat a meal without getting up once. My feet don’t stick to the dried applesauce on the floor. There is no applesauce on the floor. There is no food on the floor period. The toilet paper is on the dispenser. I’m not continually bested by baby gates, doorknob and outlet safety caps, and cabinet locks. Nobody hug-grabs my legs and sticks their head in my butt as I’m walking up or down the stairs. There are no claps or high-fives at dinner. No triumphant smiles and screeched HORRAYS while making Play-Doh pancakes. No sleeping milk-breath babies. No sneak-attack hugs or spin arounds in the living room. No singing Wheels on the Bus loudly in the car. No bubble chasing at the park. No Santa. Nobody greets me like I'm the best thing ever just happened. I’m not the best thing that ever happened. I’m totally awesome, but there’s nobody there to share it with.

Okay, I feel marginally better. Meltdown narrowly averted. I don’t think I’ll run away anymore. As you were. Carry on.

As you can see, RL is kicking my butt literally.  One day I hope to rejoin the world of fannish squee and silliness (because it's obvious I need both like whoa).  Pray for my survival.  *treads water and scans the horizon for the lifeboats*
bowtrunckle: ("Haha ... No")
There are very few things that make me get up on my soapbox and scream at the sky in frustration. It seems, though, that the news has decided it's about time for an all out scream fest (or has decided I should be enraged enough to vent at my hibernating journal). *raises fists* This past week I've run into more news articles that have my hackles up that I almost don't want to read anything else for fear that I'll run screaming into traffic.

I've mentioned my issues with girls' clothing before, so when I saw the JCPenney debacle resurface yet AGAIN, I stared incredulously at my computer screen. Really? Who are the people creating, sanctioning, promoting, and selling shirts with these kind of blatantly sexist messages on them? Not only do teenagers and tweens have to deal with being teenagers and tweens, but to have messages that tell them being smart is lame toted as fashionable and cool is wrong.  It's even more disturbing when that message emphasizes being pretty and having one's brother do their homework because one can't.  

Then there was a blatantly discriminatory bit of legislation passed in the North Carolina House of Representatives disallowing anyone to challenge the ban on gay marriage. So not only are gay marriages already illegal but the Republican-lead House is looking to make it impossible for judges to overrule the same-sex marriage ban on top of it. This is the state I now live in, and the state I'm raising my kids. How depressing. I'm now fully understanding the converstation I had with another woman whose life circumstances are very similar to mine who was desperate to move back to LA so she could raise her children "anywhere but here" (here meaning South Carolina, but close enough). The only marginally decent things associated with this is 1) voters will vote on this amendment in May and 2) the mayor of our town wrote an official and lengthy letter of non-support for this change. You better bet I already have my voter's registration card handy.

Finally, some of you may remember my long post last year about childhood vaccinations (specifically the varicella vaccine), so when Michele Bachmann began reciting a story about a women who had a daughter who suffered mental retardation as a result of the HPV vaccine on national forums, I buried my face in my hands and screamed. This propagation of misinformation, lies even, affects lives, and what's worse is that Bachmann refuses to take responsibility for her claims and instead reiterates that she was just reporting what a women told her. So now, apparently, politicians can make whatever claims they want and presumably affect policy based on anecdotal stories from random strangers. Nice job, America. 

Things like this make me wonder if the sky is going to fall in tomorrow morning because it sure seems like things almost can't get worse. 

P.S.  On a positive note, my youngest brother is now a daddy and I'm a new auntie.  Welcome to the great big world Nolan Robert.  I hope we can make it a place you can be proud to live in.  *kisses and hugs*

Also, one of these days I'm hoping to find the time/energy for a proper and overdue update with pictures.  Sorry for being MIA.


bowtrunckle: (Default)

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