Prop 8 info

Just as a heads-up to interested folks. (No, I haven’t gotten to work yet. Surprise!)

First of all, they’re still counting provisional/absentee/early/etc. votes, so the result is not official. However, it’s highly likely that the measure will pass.

But, its passage in the election isn’t the end. Lawsuits have already been filed. Short form, as I understand it, is that same-sex marriages were recognized in California because the CA Supreme Court ruled that opposing them was unconstitutional. Amending the constitution, according to more educated opinions than mine, doesn’t remove the conflict with Article I. So on legal grounds, the amendment itself may be struck down as unconstitutional. Getting around that would require revising the original text of the constitution, which is much harder to do.

Moreover, as that link points out, the CA justices said back when they made their decision that there were two ways to solve this problem. The easier one was to legalize same-sex marriage. The much, much harder one was to say, “to hell with this; civil unions for everybody, gay or straight.” Which in some ways I’m in favor of: I don’t think what the government says about a relationship and what a given religion says about it should have anything to do with one another. If we could actually push through a terminology change that would recognize the difference, I’d be in favor of it. But (as noted in the comments to that post) this creates a massive inter-state problem, since civil unions are not simply marriage by another name, not under the variety of state laws the U.S. has. So this may be more of a nuclear option than anything else: do all the people who voted for Prop 8 really want to go down that road?

Let’s be pessimistic, though, and say the amendment stands, and the legal fight continues. This analysis lays out the basics of how it would fare in the U.S. Supreme Court. Short form of that one is, this could be the queen sacrifice (no pun intended <g>) that wins the chess game. There’s a strong body of federal law and precedent and so on that can be mobilized to support gay marriage rights, and a Supreme Court decision in that direction would address this question in all fifty states at once. And while we may be worried about conservative justices, conservative or not, they have to respect the implications of the law. kittenrae suggests those implications would, in the end, be in favor of acceptance.

So: while the proposition will likely pass, the results may not be as bad as you fear. And the fallout from here will be interesting to watch.

(Links by way of zellandyne.)

aneurysm time

And now I have to disengage my brain from thoughts about modern America and participatory democracy and post-racism and the disintegration of the conservative movement and all that stuff, and go back to thinking about the philosophical underpinnings of seventeenth-century monarchy.

Brain. Hurty.

There are a lot of things to say about last night. Some of them I’ll have to wait on, since I want actual statistics to discuss, rather than exit polls (which are a statistical mess).

But a few scattered thoughts:

I’m glad Jon Stewart was the one to tell me. ^_^ (We were watching Comedy Central’s hour-long coverage special at the time.)

McCain supporters at the concession speech: not cool. Speech good, but I wish he had been a little more energetic in quieting the boos.

Part of me wishes I were still in Indiana, not only so I could be part of flipping that state blue — seriously, the results aren’t finalized, but it looks like it happened! — but so I would have had a real possibility of hopping in the car and driving to Chicago. Because a part of me really wishes I could have been there in Grant Park.

Sadly, my being in California does not appear to have made a difference in Prop 8. But there are already legal battles being prepared; we’ll get rid of that thing, and I hope sooner rather than later.

As moving as the headlines from around the country are, what get me more are the international reactions. Very nearly the entire world was rooting for Obama. And while he’s going to have a four-year uphill battle, trying to fix the many things that have gone wrong, the simple fact of his election is enough to make many nations look more kindly upon us. That alone is worth the weight of the White House in gold.

Now? The real work begins.

I am perversely disappointed that I did not have to wait in line to vote. ^_^

(It’s the advantage of being free to wander in at 10 a.m. Sadly, it is also the advantage of living in an affluent area. That latter point is one that really needs fixing; being poor has enough problems, without also meaning you have to stand in line for six hours due to insufficient voting equipment.)

Election Day

In a few hours, the polls on the East Coast will open for the 2008 United States election.

You may be tempted to stay home because you believe your candidate’s victory is a foregone conclusion, or because you believe his defeat is. Or because you look at the scale of a presidential election and conclude your vote does not matter. And the further west you live — as I’m realizing, now that I’m in California — the stronger that temptation becomes.

Get out there and vote anyway.

Vote because this is your first chance to elect someone other than a white man into the White House. Or if that isn’t your cup of tea, try one of these.

Vote because you can keep a good representative or senator in office, or dump a bad one.

Vote because you can do the same for governors, state legislators, mayors, judges, town councilmen, and dozens of other local officials.

Vote because you can change the laws of your state, county, or city.

Vote because you can.

One vote alone will probably not decide the next President of the United States. But we’re more than just our head; all the rest of the body matters, too. And you can always make a difference there.

Vote even if they call the race when the East Coast polls close. Even if you have to stand in line. Be a part of this.

this week’s adventures of the Littlest White Belt

I tried kicking in sparring today. Nobody’s really taught me how to kick yet; I just monkey-see-monkey-do my way through it in movement exercises, based on a small amount of education in front and side kicks when I was twelve, and constant reminders to myself not to turn out and/or point my toes.

I am learning to kiai. But I’m still getting chastised for not kiai-ing sometimes, and I’m not sure how to explain those are the times when the rapid-fire neurons in my brain have already figured out I’m not going to connect. (Which is not a reason to swallow it, I suppose. But try telling that to my brain, which so far has only internalized “the punch doesn’t count if you don’t yell while it lands.”)

Not so good: I think I am too dependent on the mirrors. When we do movement exercises, we advance across the floor toward the mirrored wall, but then we turn around and go the other way and unlike every dance studio I’ve been in, there are no mirrors back there. (Though there is a barre. Which convinces me there should be mirrors, dammit.) Anyway, I’m pretty sure my form is better going forward than back, and I don’t think it’s a side issue, since half the things we do alternate sides naturally to begin with. So: dear body, please pay attention to yourself, and don’t depend on the eyeballs to do it for you.

My hip joints hate me. I’m thinking Thanksgiving break will be a good thing: a whole eleven days between rounds of dislocating my legs out of my pelvis. Maybe that will be long enough to get them to stop creaking like this.

Maybe.

dammit.

Madelyn Dunham just passed away. In all likelihood, she missed by one day the chance to see her grandson elected President of the United States.

I wish I had mailed her a postcard like I meant to, when various political sites posted an address for sending well-wishes to. Because that woman deserves recognition for her role in all of this.

Requiescas in pace, Mrs. Dunham. I wish you could have seen it come to pass.

your moment of zen

John Scalzi joked the other day that among the verified miracles of St. Obama is the simple fact that he’s a black man named Barack Hussein Obama who may very well be our next President of the United States. (Also, he not only heals the sick but springs for their copay.)

With all due respect to Mr. Scalzi, that doesn’t quite cover the full extent of the miracle.

There are white supremacist leaders supporting Obama for President.

Esquire did a piece quoting several such leaders — warning, there’s a lot of racist talk on the other side of that link. And certainly not all of them are in favor of a President Obama. But when the Chairman of the American Nazi Pary says things like “White people are faced with either a negro or a total nutter who happens to have a pale face. Personally I’d prefer the negro,” you really can’t help but feel you’ve entered the Twilight Zone.

That’s how weird of an election we’ve got here, folks. Guys who have made a lifelong hobby out of being racists are finding a way to reconcile that racism with the conviction that the black guy would be a better President. (And not by saying “he’ll screw it up and then everybody will see we were right all along,” either.)

There’s hope for this country yet.

A Modest Suggestion

Discussing a recent Podcastle episode over on their forums, and talking about how I end up not enjoying “realism with just a touch of the fantastic” stories as much if I go into them expecting more overt fantasy, I commented that I might appreciate a heads-up in the story intro, telling me what kind of tale I’m about to listen to. And then, because CYA and all that, I said I wasn’t looking for an actual metric or anything, just, y’know, a hint of what to expect.

But screw that. I want a metric! Should it be dragons? One millidragon for your average “is it fantasy or is this person just crazy?” story, one kilodragon for gonzo over-the-top magic everywhere you look. Or to hell with a metric metric; let’s embrace the irrational organization of imperial units and say there are twelve garcia-marquezes to a tolkien, and eight tolkiens to a gygax. Or whatever. Use the comment thread to suggest what our units of magical measurement should be. Show your work. Extra credit for plausible-looking equations.

via truepenny

Copy this sentence into your livejournal if you’re in a heterosexual marriage/relationship (or if you think you might be someday), and you don’t want it “protected” by the bigots who think that gay marriage hurts it somehow.

I don’t think Internet memes change anybody’s mind, but it’s worth taking a moment to publicly announce that I think any consenting adults who love each other one enough to make that kind of commitment should be allowed to do so. I’m glad to live in a state that has granted them the right, and I devoutly hope they still have that right a week from today.

blast to the past

So I went to my ten-year high school reunion last week.

The short form is that there isn’t too much interesting to say; there weren’t any CIA spooks or hired assassins after me, and the whole event was hosted at a club rather than at the school, so Grosse Pointe Blank hijinks were not terribly likely. There were some people there I was glad to see, a bunch more I would have liked to see but didn’t come, and (thanks to the size of my graduating class) a giant crowd of people I wouldn’t have recognized ten years ago, either.

But it does encourage a bit of reflection. I don’t think I’ve changed very much in ten years, you see. Not so much because I’m still invested in who I was in high school — at least I don’t think that’s the case — but rather, I figured out quite a long time ago who I wanted to be after high school. What’s happened since then is, I’ve gotten better at being that person. I liked fantasy novels: my taste in them has improved. I liked certain kinds of art: I have the money to buy nicer examples of it now. I wanted to be a writer: I have three books in print. Music (in the performance sense) has sadly left my life, as has dance, but there’s no sense that I’ve “outgrown” them; the love is still there. I’ve gotten back into fencing. My hair is still long. <g> I’m just better at being me.

I can live with that.

Anybody have exciting high-school reunion stories? Did any of you rush off to reinvent yourselves after you escaped the madhouse?

pre-recommendations

I went to bed last night with that conversation rolling around in my head; I woke up to discover that Abyss and Apex has decided to buy the most ridiculously-titled short story I have ever written, “Letter Found in a Chest Belonging to the Marquis de Montseraille Following the Death of That Worthy Individual.”

***

So, you all know I like doing recommendations for good books I’ve read lately. Unfortunately, I don’t have as much time to read as I would like, which means that the recommendations lag way behind all the cool stuff I see coming out. To that end, I’m going to start putting up the occasional plug for books I think look cool and am putting on my own TBR list.

First up is Elizabeth Bear’s All the Windwracked Stars. It’s a steampunky cyberpunky post-Ragnarok Norse fantasy-type-thing, and the sample had my Norse-geeky self squirming in glee. It just came out this week, I believe, and while I don’t have my copy yet, that’s more attributable to the fact that I haven’t left the house than anything else.

The other pre-rec for now is Diana Pharaoh Francis’s The Black Ship, second (but mostly stand-alone) installment in her Crosspointe series. I confess to a bit of jealousy here; the setting resembles the Changing Sea, home to a sailing-fantasy novel I want to write someday. But jealousy also translates to interest, so here’s a brief interview with Diana:

(more…)

conversation with the brain

Conscious Mind: <singing> Revise, revise, revise the book . . . .

Subconscious: Oooh!

Conscious Mind: Yes?

Subsconscious: This is what the book’s about!

CM: Yes, we know that.

SC: Nononono. I mean, yes, but think about this.

CM: I did. Months ago. And that’s about as far as I got.

SC: Get ready to go farther. What if [spoiler]’s motivation was Y, not X?

CM: !!!

SC: Uh-huh.

CM: OMG. That works. So well. And it fits with the —

SC: Uh-huh.

CM: Not sure where to first bring it up, but we can totally work that here, and all through this bit, and —

SC: <preens>

CM: . . .

SC: What?

CM: Except that we resolved that conflict based on the assumption of Motivation X. Just how is this supposed to work out if it’s Y instead?

SC: . . .

CM: C’mon. You got me started down this road; you finish it.

SC: <ninja vanish>

CM: I hate it when she does that.

the other political post

This article on Rwanda’s government is kind of awesome. (Go to Bug Me Not for a login to use on the WaPo site.)

Short form: 56% of Rwanda’s parliament, including the Speaker, is female, making them the only majority-women government in the world. They’re systematically dismantling the laws that hold women down, encouraging them to move into the common workforce, and making an organized effort toward community-building throughout Rwanda.

The pessimist in me — which might also be the realist in me — says it can’t last. They’re not exactly surrounded by stable governments, and I’m sure there are tensions and conflicts within Rwandan society that might break them apart from within before these changes can become habit. It’s also not cheerful news when you figure that the reason Rwandan women can do this is that they made up 70% of the population after the genocide. But for all of that: dude. Women are now 55% of Rwandan society, and 56% of its parliament. How many countries in the world can claim such equality of representation?

Only Rwanda. Out of curiosity, I looked up figures on the United States Congress. 17% of the House is female, and 16% of the Senate. (A little more than 19% for the British House of Commons.) Not so great for us — especially when you figure that we still haven’t managed a female president or vice-president, and only one and two substantial candidates for those positions, respectively.

(If there’s one thing I regret about this election season, it’s that the Democratic party had to choose between the African-American candidate and the female one.)

(Then again, if there’s one thing I love about this election season, it’s that the Democratic party got to choose between the African-American candidate and the female one. <g>)

Anyway. Go Rwanda. Go Kagame, for pushing a vision of equality and harmony. I wish them all the good fortune in the world, and hope America can aspire to do half so well.

historical thoughts

I’m randomly on Wikipedia, reading the entry on the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and it’s sparking some interesting thoughts.

I suspect Americans have a hard time grokking the UK system of government because to us, it looks kind of haphazard. The government of the United States was designed; if you sit down with the Constitution and read the first three or four Articles, you know more or less how we work. The UK Constitution isn’t even a document; it’s a collection of documents and conventions and general force of habit, accumulated over the centuries. You could graphically represent the difference by putting maps of Washington, D.C. and central London next to each other. One of these was planned; the other happened by accident.

So you can’t easily say who the first Prime Minister was, because nobody ever sat down and created the office. Walpole kind of was, in terms of the power he held, but people fought about the term for over a hundred years, and apparently no two lists of PMs are alike, because the criteria for inclusion vary. It’s interesting to me, though, that the office grew out of the Treasury. I suspect — and this is probably me re-inventing the wheel of some Marxist branch of historical study — that you can view the growth of modern democracy as a process wherein the root of political power shifted from control of armed force to the control of money. (And there’s probably an interesting comparison in there somewhere, between the West and Third World military dictatorships. I’m beginning to feel like I ought to have majored in history after all.)

It makes me realize, too — given the season we’re in right now, over here in the U.S. — how amazingly stable our government has been. I don’t hold with whatever dude it is who declared that history’s over, that we’ve arrived at the final, triumphant form of government; democracy on this scale is still the new kid on the political block, and might not have as much staying power as that guy thinks. There are dynasties that lasted longer than the United States of America. But when I compare the succession of U.S. presidents with that of monarchies or Prime Ministers, it’s kind of impressively . . . boring. In a good way. The biggest weirdnesses we have are: FDR with his four terms; Grover Cleveland with his non-consecutive terms; a small handful of male relatives who occupied the same office. A couple of assassinations and deaths in office, whereupon their successors picked up and kept going. And the Civil War, but even then, all that happened politically was that part of the country seceded and formed its own country. I don’t think we’ve ever had, say, two rival Presidents running around, both claiming their Cabinet and Congress are the real ones. Or anything to even approach the Wars of the Roses.

(Yes, most of my comparisons are to British history. For obvious reasons. But I’ve studied other countries, too.)

(Okay, my brain just offered up Emperor Norton. Who is entertaining, but not exactly mainstream American history.)

So, yeah. As contentious as our elections have been lately, and as freaked out as some people are by the possibility of a black man* leading our country, on the whole? We still have an awfully rational and stable thing going on over here.

I have other, unrelated political thoughts to post, but it occurs to me that if I put them here, one half of the post or the other will probably get all the attention in the comments, so I’ll save it for a separate entry later on.

*By which we signify a half-Kenyan black, half-Kansas white guy born in Hawaii and raised partly in Indonesia. Don’t you love how modern American society still boils everything down to one-word reductionist evaluations of skin shade?

think fast!

I need to figure out what I want for a karate icon.

My trial period is over; I’ve decided to join the dojo for real. To that end, I bought myself a pair of gloves, and sparred for the first time yesterday. (I kind of sort of sparred last week, but it was more like a set of sparring drills; when it came time for people to do scored bouts in front of the teachers, I was never called up.) They paired me against one of the black belts — all of whom, from what I’ve seen so far, are good people who understand that nobody benefits if they just wipe the floor with the little baby white belt. I “won” our bout, because she decided my lesson this week should be learning to attack: she launched the occasional strike at me, but mostly baited me forward, luring me into, y’know, doing something.

Which was both familiar and strange. I’ve sparred in fencing, but bare-handed combat is new to me. It’s a lot closer-range than I’m used to; the black belt kept beckoning me in, while I floated out at something more like blade length. On the other hand, since I don’t have to control a heavy piece of metal — and if you think rapiers aren’t heavy, you haven’t tried to wave one around for very long; they gain a pound with every passing minute, I swear — I was able to follow through much more cleanly when I saw an opening. Which my sparring partner even praised after class: the fencing experience means I do see openings. (I see them in fencing, too, but when I try to exploit them my point goes haring off god knows where, because my wrist strength crapped out three passes into the bout.)

Now, if I can get more than basic punches and some half-assed what-block-was-that stunts into my repertoire, I might get somewhere.

I also need to learn to kiai. Since apparently a point doesn’t count if you don’t yell when it lands. Just wait until I start doing this in fencing: the peril of pursuing two martial arts at once.

Wednesday . . . is gonna hurt. Because if I try to come down into the straddle splits from above, the way we do in class, it strains my hips without actually stretching me, so yesterday I did it the way I used to in dance: start on the floor, then roll forward into it. Their way, I’m a foot and a half off the floor; my way, maybe four inches. But it isn’t a method that lets you ease gradually into anything, so I fully expect my inner thighs to stage a violent protest come tomorrow.

When I will make them do it all over again.