capri0mni | Random post is random: (Reply)

So, since it had been quiet for over a week, I went ahead and made that post about Geordi La Forge in starbase_idic. I was originally going to post about how invisible his disability was, in terms of relevance, and how this is an extension of the Christain trope: "When the Kingdom of God is on Earth, the lame shall walk, the blind shall see, the deaf shall hear, and the lepers shall be made whole," especially since, in the Trek universe, the Future is Closer to Paradise than we are.

Then, I read his "Official Bio Page" on StarTrek.com, and realized that the invisible blindness was only the tip of the Iceberg of Fail, regarding Geordi La Forge. So the post kind of went in a different direction.

Had a weird dream this morning (when does anyone have a perfectly logical dream, anyway?), right before I woke up. In the dream, I came to consciousness in a hospital ward and the doctor congratulated me because I'd just given birth to a beautiful baby daughter, and that she was in another room, down the hall with the nurse/aide/wetnurse who was helping to take care of her, because I was not lactating. Then followed the usual wandering-down-the-maze-of-identical-corridors and getting lost as I tried to find my daughter.

Meanwhile, I was really confused, because I couldn't remember ever actually having sex in the last nine months (much less with whom), so how the hell did I get pregnant? When I finally found the room with my baby and my aide (who was, naturally [/sarcasm], a tall, willowy, athletic blonde), I discovered that the baby was at least already three months old, so maybe the reason I had absolutely no memory of the father was because my daughter had been in the womb longer than nine months, and my memory doesn't go back that far. So I studied the palms of my daughter's hands, to see if she'd inherited any line patterns different from mine that might remind me who the father was, so I could try to contact him.

I've given up trying to write a Christmas novel for my New Year's resolution, by the way. My heart and my ethics are no longer in it, since the author is now an atheist by virtue of disbelief, and at least one person on the gift list is an atheist by virtue of Hating God with a Passion. So Santa Claus story just seems to be made of wrong, somehow. I've not given up entirely on the idea of writing a book as a gift for the family, though. But I'm still flailing about trying to think of a substitute idea.

Instead of getting the exciting finale (Episode Six) of Seeds of Doom, last night, my PBS station aired Episode Five again. I hope we get episode six next week.

There are random moments when I want to write an LJ post gushing and squeeing about how The Winter's Tale is one of Shakespeare's Greatest Plays, and how horrid it is that so many literary critics pan it as one of his worst. But then, I'm stuck because hardly anyone knows the play (because it's been panned by "experts," so it doesn't get taught or performed very often). So I get stuck wondering how much I can gush or squee without Spoilering it to High Heav'n. So it keeps rattling around in my head, and I never post it.