cowboysandindiekids:

I got a fancy tablet! 
I still might prefer markers!

I have had a serious thing for Detective Lennie Briscoe since I was a little girl. 

Welp. I hope you like it. 

ANIMATED TELEVISION LIGHT

HOW

Identity is a strange thing, far more amorphous and metamorphic than we would care to believe. There is an imminent threat of irrevocable change, out of my hands, apart from my control, feeling years of work slipping from my fingers at the cost of legal jargon but the further it slips from my grasp the more liberated I feel. I’m reassured of the ridged awaiting landscape, the drive of cicadas and the hum of prairie locusts a meditating calm against the brewing storm. I feel empowered and powerless all the same. My language is tied. It’s been a good run if, in the end, that’s all this ends up being.

Identity is a strange thing, far more amorphous and metamorphic than we would care to believe. There is an imminent threat of irrevocable change, out of my hands, apart from my control, feeling years of work slipping from my fingers at the cost of legal jargon but the further it slips from my grasp the more liberated I feel. I’m reassured of the ridged awaiting landscape, the drive of cicadas and the hum of prairie locusts a meditating calm against the brewing storm. I feel empowered and powerless all the same. My language is tied. It’s been a good run if, in the end, that’s all this ends up being.

date night with a bag of pretzel sticks, a jar of peanut butter, and my one true love

netflix

asapscience:

Brings a tear to our eye. 

asapscience:

Brings a tear to our eye. 

(Source: thedailysnooze)

Tags: mylife

rejectedprincesses:

Petra Herrera, the Soldadera Princess
Ladies and gentlemen, today we fight for Pedro. I give you Colonel Petra “Pedro” Herrera, Mexican revolutionary, demolitions expert, and leader of a battallion of an all-female brigade that boasted hundreds of women.
Oversimplified, glib background: Mexican Revoliution. 1910s. President Diaz was being shitty. Revolutionaries (Pancho Villa, Zapato, others from the “bad boys of the revolution” calendar series) pop up and say, “hey, stop being shitty and step down already.” Bam, war. The armies engulf huge swaths of Mexican people, including many women.
Most of the embedded women (soldaderas) were covering the minutia that the let’s-go-fight-already soldiers hadn’t thought through — like, you know, eating. With the war swallowing up town after town, more and more women (and children) joined up with the growing armies, although, some of the forces straight-up kidnapped them (and worse). The result of the whole thing was that the armies of the time looked like a giant block party (a journalist at the time described the revolutionary Carranza’s camp as appearing like “an immense picnic”). 
Petra Herrera, though, was not about to cook or clean. Petra was there to kick ass.
DIsguising herself as a man (Pedro) in order to be eligible for battlefield promotions — a commonplace tactic among female soldiers of the time — Petra established her reputation with the revolutionaries through solid leadership, good marksmanship, and, you know, blowing up bridges. Eventually, she became so popular (rebel brigades: “you’re cool! come work with us!”) that she dropped the “I’m a man, no really” pretense (rebel brigades: “oh thank god we’re not gay”), started wearing braids, and fighting under her own name. By 1914, she was a captain underneath Pancho Villa, leading 200 men into battle.
Her crowning achievement was to sack the city of Torreon, which is a big freaking deal. Taking Torreon — in the biggest fight in the war to that date — gave Pancho Villa access to heavy artillery, a half million rounds of ammunition, armored rail cars, the works. And yet, Herrera was not given much, if any, credit for her work in the massive fight. Now, mind, she’s not mentioned in the official papers on this, so take it with a pinch of salt, but according to another soldier in the battle, “she was the one who took Torreon, she turned off the lights when they entered the city.” Still: she received no promotion to general afterwards.
In response, Herrera said “I’m out.” She left Villa’s forces and made her own — an independent all-female brigade. By the end of the war, was estimated to comprise around 300-400 women, down from (possibly wild) estimates of 1,000 at its peak. She looked after her women like a mama bear armed with a rifle. She wouldn’t let men sleep in her camp, and enforced that rule by staying up late and using any wayward male soldier that tried to get in as target practice.  
At the end of the fighting, she again requested to be made a general and remain in the military — but in return, she was only promoted to colonel, and her brigade was disbanded. What happened to the women of her brigade afterwards is unknown. 
Sadly, Petra met at ignominious end soon after. Working as a spy for Carranza’s forces in the role of a bartender in Jimenez, she was shot three times by a group of drunken men, and later died of her injuries.
And here’s the thing — as cool as she was, Petra was not unique in being an amazing soldadera. She wasn’t even unique in being an amazing soldadera named Petra who went by the male name of Pedro. There were so many awesomely distinguished women in the Mexican Revolution, it was hard to pick just one. Some others include:
Petra Ruiz (who also went by Pedro). She was nicknamed “Echa Balas” (Bullets), had a bad temper, and was so skilled with knives and guns that other soldiers would just let her have her way. One account tells of some soldiers arguing who would be first to rape a young girl, when Petra shows up, demands the girl for herself, and then, winning her through intimidation, lets her go.
Rosa Bobadilla, who, when widowed by the war, took up arms and fought in one hundred and sixty-eight battles — surviving them all to die at the age of eighty-three.
A woman named Chiquita, who rode into an enemy camp, saying she was a trained nurse. Hours later, she was fleeing town after having stolen papers, documents, and maps.
A 13-year-old girl named Elisa Grienssen, who, when US President Wilson sent an army into Mexico, rallied the women of Parral to kick them out. They surrounded the American commander (who was apparently already leaving, but taking his sweet time with it), throwing rocks and sticks, shouting “Viva Villa, Viva Mexico!”
Unfortunately, for most of the post-war history, soldaderas were largely memorialized through folk songs that, to my mind, didn’t quite do them justice, the most famous of which being La Adelita. In the song, the eponymous Adelita follows the army because she is in love with the sergeant. Although certainly that sort of thing happened, love wasn’t exactly the prime motivator for Petra “make me a fucking general already” Herrera.
Other portrayals of soldaderas, especially early on, tended to play into sexed-up gender stereotypes. Los de Abajo, a novel serialized in newspapers beginning in 1915, was a war novel that had two female leads: Camilla, the maternal, demure girlfriend, and La Pintada (the Painted One), who, though an excellent soldier, is portrayed as vulgar, out of control, and generally monstrous. She ends up stabbing Camilla out of jealousy and being exiled. Lame.
Art notes
Because Petra dressed as a man for much of her career, she is seen her in a period-accurate officer’s outfit. She has an officer’s sword, characteristic ammo bandolier, and is unfurling her braid from her hat, in a nod to her “guess what, I’m a lady” reveal. Her revolver is a copy of the one that Emiliano Zapato used (a Mexican S&W replica).
The soldaderas below her are in outfits more typical of the standard soldadera representation. I gave them each different tones that together comprise the colors of the Mexican flag. 
The woman in green is based on this picture. Just look at this lady. Holy hell.
The woman in the picture is carrying a Winchester rifle — a rifle which carries with it a history for another quite interesting woman.
The setting is an actual Mexican bridge that was around at the time, but it was clear on the other side of Mexico from where she operated (mostly Durango and Chihuhua). Still, I liked the visual, and it’s hard to find accurate pictures of bridges that were blown up a century ago.
Citations
Battleground Women: Soldaderas and Female Soldiers in the Mexican Revolution by Andres Resendez Fuentes
Soldaderas in the Mexican Military: Myth and History by Elizabeth Salas
Bookkeeping
I added more info (citations!) to the Nzinga Mbande entry. Still doing research to uncover the basis of those rumors, though!
Still working hard on figuring out how to make an RP book happen. These things take time. If you want to be kept in the loop, though, there’s a mailing list!
Next week on Rejected Princesses
Giving the people what they want: 90 cats from a cloud.

Are you guys following Rejected Princesses? Because you should. 

rejectedprincesses:

Petra Herrera, the Soldadera Princess

Ladies and gentlemen, today we fight for Pedro. I give you Colonel Petra “Pedro” Herrera, Mexican revolutionary, demolitions expert, and leader of a battallion of an all-female brigade that boasted hundreds of women.

Oversimplified, glib background: Mexican Revoliution. 1910s. President Diaz was being shitty. Revolutionaries (Pancho Villa, Zapato, others from the “bad boys of the revolution” calendar series) pop up and say, “hey, stop being shitty and step down already.” Bam, war. The armies engulf huge swaths of Mexican people, including many women.

Most of the embedded women (soldaderas) were covering the minutia that the let’s-go-fight-already soldiers hadn’t thought through — like, you know, eating. With the war swallowing up town after town, more and more women (and children) joined up with the growing armies, although, some of the forces straight-up kidnapped them (and worse). The result of the whole thing was that the armies of the time looked like a giant block party (a journalist at the time described the revolutionary Carranza’s camp as appearing like “an immense picnic”). 

Petra Herrera, though, was not about to cook or clean. Petra was there to kick ass.

DIsguising herself as a man (Pedro) in order to be eligible for battlefield promotions — a commonplace tactic among female soldiers of the time — Petra established her reputation with the revolutionaries through solid leadership, good marksmanship, and, you know, blowing up bridges. Eventually, she became so popular (rebel brigades: “you’re cool! come work with us!”) that she dropped the “I’m a man, no really” pretense (rebel brigades: “oh thank god we’re not gay”), started wearing braids, and fighting under her own name. By 1914, she was a captain underneath Pancho Villa, leading 200 men into battle.

Her crowning achievement was to sack the city of Torreon, which is a big freaking deal. Taking Torreon — in the biggest fight in the war to that date — gave Pancho Villa access to heavy artillery, a half million rounds of ammunition, armored rail cars, the works. And yet, Herrera was not given much, if any, credit for her work in the massive fight. Now, mind, she’s not mentioned in the official papers on this, so take it with a pinch of salt, but according to another soldier in the battle, “she was the one who took Torreon, she turned off the lights when they entered the city.” Still: she received no promotion to general afterwards.

In response, Herrera said “I’m out.” She left Villa’s forces and made her own — an independent all-female brigade. By the end of the war, was estimated to comprise around 300-400 women, down from (possibly wild) estimates of 1,000 at its peak. She looked after her women like a mama bear armed with a rifle. She wouldn’t let men sleep in her camp, and enforced that rule by staying up late and using any wayward male soldier that tried to get in as target practice.  

At the end of the fighting, she again requested to be made a general and remain in the military — but in return, she was only promoted to colonel, and her brigade was disbanded. What happened to the women of her brigade afterwards is unknown. 

Sadly, Petra met at ignominious end soon after. Working as a spy for Carranza’s forces in the role of a bartender in Jimenez, she was shot three times by a group of drunken men, and later died of her injuries.

And here’s the thing — as cool as she was, Petra was not unique in being an amazing soldadera. She wasn’t even unique in being an amazing soldadera named Petra who went by the male name of Pedro. There were so many awesomely distinguished women in the Mexican Revolution, it was hard to pick just one. Some others include:

  • Petra Ruiz (who also went by Pedro). She was nicknamed “Echa Balas” (Bullets), had a bad temper, and was so skilled with knives and guns that other soldiers would just let her have her way. One account tells of some soldiers arguing who would be first to rape a young girl, when Petra shows up, demands the girl for herself, and then, winning her through intimidation, lets her go.
  • Rosa Bobadilla, who, when widowed by the war, took up arms and fought in one hundred and sixty-eight battles — surviving them all to die at the age of eighty-three.
  • A woman named Chiquita, who rode into an enemy camp, saying she was a trained nurse. Hours later, she was fleeing town after having stolen papers, documents, and maps.
  • A 13-year-old girl named Elisa Grienssen, who, when US President Wilson sent an army into Mexico, rallied the women of Parral to kick them out. They surrounded the American commander (who was apparently already leaving, but taking his sweet time with it), throwing rocks and sticks, shouting “Viva Villa, Viva Mexico!”

Unfortunately, for most of the post-war history, soldaderas were largely memorialized through folk songs that, to my mind, didn’t quite do them justice, the most famous of which being La Adelita. In the song, the eponymous Adelita follows the army because she is in love with the sergeant. Although certainly that sort of thing happened, love wasn’t exactly the prime motivator for Petra “make me a fucking general already” Herrera.

Other portrayals of soldaderas, especially early on, tended to play into sexed-up gender stereotypes. Los de Abajo, a novel serialized in newspapers beginning in 1915, was a war novel that had two female leads: Camilla, the maternal, demure girlfriend, and La Pintada (the Painted One), who, though an excellent soldier, is portrayed as vulgar, out of control, and generally monstrous. She ends up stabbing Camilla out of jealousy and being exiled. Lame.

Art notes

  • Because Petra dressed as a man for much of her career, she is seen her in a period-accurate officer’s outfit. She has an officer’s sword, characteristic ammo bandolier, and is unfurling her braid from her hat, in a nod to her “guess what, I’m a lady” reveal. Her revolver is a copy of the one that Emiliano Zapato used (a Mexican S&W replica).
  • The soldaderas below her are in outfits more typical of the standard soldadera representation. I gave them each different tones that together comprise the colors of the Mexican flag. 
  • The woman in green is based on this picture. Just look at this lady. Holy hell.
  • The woman in the picture is carrying a Winchester rifle — a rifle which carries with it a history for another quite interesting woman.
  • The setting is an actual Mexican bridge that was around at the time, but it was clear on the other side of Mexico from where she operated (mostly Durango and Chihuhua). Still, I liked the visual, and it’s hard to find accurate pictures of bridges that were blown up a century ago.

Citations

Bookkeeping

  • I added more info (citations!) to the Nzinga Mbande entry. Still doing research to uncover the basis of those rumors, though!
  • Still working hard on figuring out how to make an RP book happen. These things take time. If you want to be kept in the loop, though, there’s a mailing list!

Next week on Rejected Princesses

Giving the people what they want: 90 cats from a cloud.

Are you guys following Rejected Princesses? Because you should. 

My sister took some ridiculous glamour shots of me at our cousin’s wedding last weekend. 

FIERCE 

but my favorite part of all of these is my necklace; it’s the metamorphic stages monarch butterfly development — nerd fashion is the best fashion.

What The Balls is Fame

edwardspoonhands:

Hey there…let’s talk.

I’ve spent the last seven years having lots of people know who I am and say nice things about me and watch me every week on YouTube. I’ve played Carnegie Hall and started my own convention and LOTS of people have watched my videos. LOTS…just a VERY LOT!

But I’ve never felt famous…but then…how would I know if I felt famous? I don’t know what it feels like to be famous…is it pleasant? Is it terrifying? Is it a feeling of success or power? I don’t think you know unless you know…y’know?

But in the last couple of weeks I’ve felt a little bit famous, and I kinda hate it. Here’s what I think it is:

People appreciating me for my existence, not for my creations. Just the mere fact of me is enough to make people want to get my picture. Really it’s when people who haven’t watched a bunch of Vlogbrothers videos want to get a picture just because they know I’m the kind of person you should get a picture with…that’s what makes me feel “famous” and it’s not a feeling I particularly like. 

There’s also a bit of a conversion to my self as public property. Like, if you’re known by enough people, you eventually become (in a weird way) publicly owned. People are free to talk about you in the tabloids. What I might consider private time, like walking my dog or eating dinner or being in a public bathroom stops being private because it’s public and I’m public. I don’t begrudge people for coming up to me while I’m doing those things (well, if I’m having a fancy dinner with my wife and you come up for a photo…I begrudge that a little) but mostly it’s just wonderful to be appreciated.

Let’s get this out of the way as well…

I LOVE being appreciated for things I’m proud of. I make a thing…I like it…other people like it…they tell me they like it. That’s like, THE. FUCKING. BEST. THING. 

But here’s what I think happens. I think you start getting famous and you stop sharing what your life is like out of fear that people won’t understand. They’ll think you ungrateful for the success and importance that they have literally granted to you. You deal with the most first world of all first world problems (i.e. not how to pay for traveling the world, but how to avoid traveling the world /too much/.)

Let’s be honest, I don’t have to worry about money anymore…on the other hand I do have to worry about making sure I can pay the 22 people who work for me so that they can continue feeding their families and stuff. That’s not a problem that I feel like a lot of people can identify with. It’s a thing that stresses me out but maybe seems like “Well, whatever douche-pants, when was the last time you had to worry about putting food on the table.” And, yeah, that internal voice is /totally right./

But then do I look for other business-running people and only talk to them? Do I narrow my audience to just a few select people who do have direct experience?

Does there come a time where I can no longer be honest about my life? When I become extremely difficult to relate to because all of my problems are CEO problems and not real-person problems? And, when that happens, does the prophecy come true…do I just become a famous person? Appreciated not for what he does but just because he is? 

Do I just get used to keeping secrets? So used to it that maybe I make easy decisions that aren’t in concert with the values of Nerdfighteria instead of the hard decisions that are? Do I just become complicit in the secrecy of American corporate culture? Do I just become part of that culture?! UHGHGHGHGHGGGHHHHHH

I want to avoid that SO FUCKING BAD! That’s why I’m writing this. 

Check it:

I have four separate businesses, and when an employee from one needs to do work for another we set up a contract between the two different companies so one company can pay the other company for that person’s time. If we didn’t do that the government would yell at us for having an employee that doesn’t work for a company doing work for that company. That’s some of the weird shit I have to deal with that, like, no one fucking cares about. And I don’t expect you to care about it! It’s esoteric and boring and morally uncomplicated!

But maybe I do just have to tell you “Hey, check out this stupid shit I have to deal with…how dumb is that, right?” because otherwise, I’ll stop sharing things because I don’t feel like you’ll care or you’ll think I’m uncool because it’s so corporate and bullshitty and full of the ultimate in first world problems. But if I stop sharing…if I stop being open about my life, I am afraid I’ll stop being a person. And that terrifies me…so please

please

please

Don’t let me stop being a person.

It’s mostly up to me, of course. And lots of people aren’t going to be reached by this kind of communication. But what’s important is that Nerdfighters don’t stop seeing me as a person. I don’t care if I’m famous…I care if I lose that connection to this community because, without it, I will feel like less of a human being. I will have lost something that is extremely important to me. Thank you all for allowing that connection in the first place.

I’m gonna go eat some cake now.

Byeeeeee

Yesterday I was standing in John’s office in Indianapolis, getting a quick tour of the other side of Nerdfighteria I’d never seen before. Inside of the door were two large white boxes from the post office overflowing with fan letters. The studio in itself was really surreal because each set is in the same room (so, like, Mental_Floss is in the corner across from the white Crash Course drop and in-between is Healthcare Triage) - but the most surreal thing was seeing John’s office. It had some artwork on the walls.. It was cluttered. There were Diet Dr. Pepper cans everywhere, and copies of The Fault in our Stars scattered about. There was an small bookshelf of copies printed in a multitude of languages with varying artwork, but for the most part I saw the white, blue and black clouds everywhere. 

I thought about all that these two brothers have accomplished, everything they’ve afforded me in the last year and a half. I thought about playing games at Hank’s house and was hit with a pang of nostalgia. I imagined at that moment John was probably on some red carpet somewhere, deservedly accepting the accolades for a job really well done. And I wondered for a moment if this could be real, solidly placed in reality, and for a moment I was in doubt. Then I noticed a granola bar wrapper shoved into the side of the couch between the cushion and the armrest. 

It was the most refreshing thing to see. 

I think I may be done.
It’s always difficult to say with paintings - in my experience, they tell you what they want before you’ve got any say in the matter. It’s not that you couldn’t do more, add more, paint in a cow or a fence or a road. But all of the sudden the atmosphere seems to sink into place, I can smell the autumn grass, feel the gust of wind. And that’s about it. 
Why a landscape? I’m homesick. This work provided me the opportunity to revisit areas I don’t give myself enough time to think about. In spending a few hours each weekend attempting to recall the movements in fields of wheat and the direction of speeding clouds in their atmosphere, I was able to stop and recall my own foundation. The storm is an obvious and recurrent metaphor in my work, a reminder that nothing stands in the way between tumult out of our control and our own resilience. This work is a sort of embodiment of my most honest dreams, which include moving back to a desolate area with the company of sheep and a chorus of cows, awaking to silence every morning, my only obligation a vegetable garden and probably a few stray cats. 
Thank you to everyone who’s followed the progress of this painting over the last six months - soon it’ll be shipped across the country to hang in someone else’s house, and I sincerely hope they enjoy what I’ve come up with. 

I think I may be done.

It’s always difficult to say with paintings - in my experience, they tell you what they want before you’ve got any say in the matter. It’s not that you couldn’t do more, add more, paint in a cow or a fence or a road. But all of the sudden the atmosphere seems to sink into place, I can smell the autumn grass, feel the gust of wind. And that’s about it. 

Why a landscape? I’m homesick. This work provided me the opportunity to revisit areas I don’t give myself enough time to think about. In spending a few hours each weekend attempting to recall the movements in fields of wheat and the direction of speeding clouds in their atmosphere, I was able to stop and recall my own foundation. The storm is an obvious and recurrent metaphor in my work, a reminder that nothing stands in the way between tumult out of our control and our own resilience. This work is a sort of embodiment of my most honest dreams, which include moving back to a desolate area with the company of sheep and a chorus of cows, awaking to silence every morning, my only obligation a vegetable garden and probably a few stray cats. 

Thank you to everyone who’s followed the progress of this painting over the last six months - soon it’ll be shipped across the country to hang in someone else’s house, and I sincerely hope they enjoy what I’ve come up with. 

cowboysandindiekids:

davestrider123:

Cuties

I got my first fan art! I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN. You guys should know I make a lot of fan art. 
This is SO EXCITING. 

I NEVER KNEW I COULD LOVE TC&SG EVEN MORE BUT NOW I DO

cowboysandindiekids:

davestrider123:

Cuties

I got my first fan art! I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN. 
You guys should know I make a lot of fan art. 

This is SO EXCITING. 

I NEVER KNEW I COULD LOVE TC&SG EVEN MORE BUT NOW I DO

cowboysandindiekids:

Tubby Cat and Surly Girl on their first big adventure!

For the record I am a fan of Zoos, field trips and the buddy system. 
Stay with your buddy. Do not take cats to zoos.

Hands down the best webcomic I’ve read since I became introduced to Hark, A Vagrant - Hannah Spry wins them all with this one. I’m proud to call her my bestie. <3