Sunday, December 07, 2014

Snowpiercer Fight Scene

This, my first post in well over a year is not even a real post.  It is just a message for my friend the lovely Justina.  I couldn't figure out how to relay these images and story to her without putting it on a webpage.

Justina, here is the story of the Snowpiercer(tm) fight scene.

Background:  
Our heroes live in a dystopian future where climate change has made the earth uninhabitable.  It is brutally cold and all of humanity has died out save for a handle of people that survive by living on a train.  They didn't explain how living on a train is better than living in... well basically anything else.  I guess we are just supposed to accept it and move on.

The story takes place 17 years after everyone got on the train.  During this time a class system has developed where the people who live at the front of the train have luxuries and freedoms and the people at the back of the train have none.  It is explained that this is an extension of the original boarding passes where the first class passengers have more amenities because they paid more.  This class divide has gone to the extreme by years of enforcing it through violence and oppression.  Our heroes are the lower class schmoes at the back of the train.  The story is their struggle to move up to the front of the train.

The part of the movie I am going to tell you about is a fight scene shortly after our heroes break out of their confines and are making their way forward.  They hotwire a door, and it opens to reveal a squad of goons.


The sunlight hits only our hero's face as he stares them down.  The goons stare back.  I think.  You can't really tell.  Their eyes could be closed for all I know.


The goons, despite living in a frigid, ice-cold deathworld, do not appear to know how to wear balaclavas.  How did this even happen?
Goon 1: "How do we put these on?"
Goon 2: "Just put the eye-hole over the mouth part."
Goon 1: "Shouldn't we put the eye-hole where our eyes are?"
Goon 2: "We want to be able to talk, dur!"
Goon 1: "Makes sense."

So anyway, back to the story.  The goons all point their faces at our heroes, but might not even know they are there.  Maybe they just heard the door open and turned towards the sound.  Some of them adjust the shoulders their hatchets and pikes are resting on, but nothing happens.   Our heroes look back at the goons, slightly confused.  The music starts to rise.



Next, one of the goons from the second row hands something up to a goon on the front row.


The heroes look confused.  Is that a fish?


The front row goon displays the object.  It's a fish alright.


He doesn't say it, but you can tell that Sidekick is all like 'WTF?'  I was too actually.  The hero though just seems concerned for the well-being of the fish.  Don't hurt that fish you goon.



Do fish have necks?  The fishmonger sinks his hatchet into the neck-area of the fish.  Blood and guts spill to the floor.


Fishmonger hands the fish to his buddy.  His buddy hands the fish back to the second row.  I didn't hear anything, but I imagine he said 'Hey put this on the floor about ten feet back.'


Hero and Sidekick say double-wtf?




Now things start to heat up.  The music ramps.  After a few flinches and fake-outs, a legit fight breaks out.  The clamour and uproar of the battlefield, (I mean train car), is deafening.  It's a hectic, brutal, all-out battle for survival (on a fucking train car).  Hero yells, "Move forward!"


Then with the clang of a knife ringing in our ears, the tone of the image fades to something like sepia. The only sound we hear is the heartbeat of our hero as he chops his way through dozens of morons who are fighting with balaclavas covering their eyes. 


One by one they fall. Dead bodies cover the floor.  Fish guts cover the windows.


Hero sees someone.  It's the Fishmonger!  He sets his steely gaze on his target and makes his way towards him.  Seemingly nothing can stop this determined man.


Nothing perhaps, except a fish.  That cleverly placed fish.  Fishmonger is a tactical genius.


Whoopsie!  Fish are slippery.


Hero down!  He hits hard on the deck.


Fishmonger's fish hatchet swings!  Hero rolls to the side just in time.


Hero sweeps the leg. Fishmonger goes down.


Hero sinks his hatchet into the neck-area of the fishmonger, spilling blood and guts everywhere.


"Hooked ya!" the hero thinks in a moment of reflection. "I reeled you in." he adds to himself.  "You're a pain in the bass!"


"I got something on my face."


"It's Fishmonger's blood!!"


"Oh wait no, it's just fish guts."


"On the the next kill."


As the hero goes on to kill more goons, Sidekick looks on in awe.  "That man is a hero."


#trainlife



So that, Justina, is the story of how Captain America avenged a fish in a world so frozen we can't live anywhere but on a train that never stops, but we somehow have access to decent sized trout.


Saturday, March 23, 2013

Breaking the Silence


Today I spoke at the Breaking the Silence conference at the University of Saskatchewan.  This is what I said:

Hello,
My name is Sarah Mathiason, and last year I was the president of the Saskatoon Roller Derby League.  Through my association with roller derby I'm known as Mega. Without a doubt, more people call me Mega than Sarah, and I'm kinda proud of that.  

I am here today because one of the themes of this conference is about 'removing homophobia from the locker room'. Since I am a transwoman roller derby player, it seemed to fit.  Unfortunately, I don't have any tips or hints about how to get past homophobia. None at all.  If you're an LGBT individual, I don't know if there is anything I can tell you that you don't already know.  Homophobia, and non-acceptance in general are tough to deal with.  It's sad actually, that a lot of us have such inner torment, that is unnecessarily caused by outside pressure.  I wasn't unhappy about being a transgirl, until I learned that it was "wrong".  I was still a kid when I learned that being trans was going to ruin my life and the lives of the ones I love.  A psychologist said that when I was 13, and I believed it.

I suppressed my feelings for a very long time.  I can't remember far enough to when my first trans-related feelings were, but I kept it a secret from everyone but my parents until I was 34 years old.  That is a 30-year secret.  That takes a toll.

Even when society began to ease up, I still had my early life lessons ingrained so deep in me, that I kept on suppressing my true self likely far longer than I needed to.   So as for tips about how any transwomen out there can deal with homophobia, I can't really say, because for most of my life, I hid from it.  

So instead, I'm going to talk about roller derby.  Actually, what I want to talk about today is probably best heard by your sports associations, by your coaches and captains and your teammates.   I told my league that I was coming here to gush about them, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.  I'm here to talk about my experiences in SRDL, and how I think roller derby as a whole has removed homophobia from the locker room by being a community.

I want to tell you a little bit about myself.  I am a 41 year old, male-to-female transsexual.  Growing up, I had a great family but I was a very reserved and introverted child.  I didn't really know how to be a boy, and society didn't seem willing to let me be me, so I coped by withdrawing.  This continued as I grew into adulthood. I rarely had more than 4 friends at one time.  At my lowest point, right before I transitioned I was so withdrawn and depressed, I was in danger of losing all my friends entirely, if not more.

Thankfully, that changed when I transitioned. I was 34 and I came out to a mostly positive and happy reception.   I lost a couple of friends during the process, but their negativity wasn't welcome anyway.   In general, I was a happy new woman, and my social circle swelled to 6. 

A few years later I became interested in roller derby.  I had just seen the movie Whip It… and something about it really spoke to me.  Before I looked into joining Saskatoon's league, I did some research into gender policies. Only one league, the Bay Area Derby Girls from San Francisco, had a policy published online.   It stated essentially what Easy Break* spoke of earlier.  We had to be "hormonally female" and be able to provide documentation if asked.  I set off to my first practice with that policy printed out and my last blood work results in my bag, just in case there was a problem.  I just want to mention that it's been over three years since that night, and there hasn't been a single problem yet. 

As I pulled up to the practice venue, my heart was pounding. 
I hadn't participated in sports since elementary school, so I was pretty nervous. 
On top of that, I was a transsexual, about to join an all-female sports league. My stomach was churning.
Worst of all was the nagging thought in the back of my mind reminding me that I had no fucking clue how to skate. 

I was a nervous wreck that first night, but I made it through, and I kept on showing up for practices and felt myself getting better, stronger, and more confident.  I was so concerned with improving my skills that I forgot to worry about any trans issues at all until one night, two months after I started, I was asked to play in a bout.

At the time our league had one team.  Oil City was coming in to play us and they wanted to bring two teams, so we were scrambling to fill a second roster.  When asked to play, I accepted the request immediately, and then immediately after that, anxiety began to rise up in me.  I had never asked what my league's policy was.  Dozens of "What ifs" played out in my head. 
"What if they actually have a policy against it?" 
"What if they don't let me play?"
"What if I have to argue and fight and risk losing my new friends in order to get my way?" 
"What if I get kicked from the league?"

It weighed heavily on my mind, but I'm a habitual procrastinator, so I waited until about a day before the roster was to be submitted before I spoke to Bonehawk, the president of the league.  I said, "I just want you to know, I'm transgendered.  I hope that doesn't cause you any problems." 

She replied "I know.   I read your blog."  It turns out she had read it weeks earlier, so all that anxiety was for nothing.  Bonehawk added something that I won't soon forget: "Roller derby is for women of all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life.  You qualify.  You're welcome to play with us any day."

After that talk, my anxiety faded.  When I started with the league, I tried to keep my gender situation stealthy, but that's just not me.  Bonehawk's comments made me feel free to just be me - and once I felt free, I started to make some seriously good friends.  Eventually the particulars of my gender situation became known to the entire league, and beyond.  It didn't bother me one bit, nor did it bother anyone else. 

Time went on, and  I didn't think I could have been happier with the league.  Then I got a call from my surgeon.  It was time to go in for my orchiectomy, which if you are not familiar it means "ball chop". I was laying in a hospital bed, feeling a bit sad because the rest of my team was in Calgary without me.  Then the messages started coming in, wishing me well and congratulating me on the surgery, saying they wished I was there, but understood the importance of that operation.  The feeling of inclusion and acceptance really struck me.  I'd heard the phrase "roller derby community" before, but suddenly I felt it.  I wasn't the self-imposed outcast I used to be. I had friends, I had support, I was loved, and I was important.

Over the years, roller derby has brought me a lot of experiences.  I've felt what it was like to be part of a team.  I have competed, travelled, won and lost.  I have appeared in televised games, been interviewed by reporters,  and once had a section of fans cheering my name in unison.  I've had some great times.  I sometimes wonder what that scared little closeted transkid I used to be would have thought if she knew her future self would someday be elected president of a women's sports league.  After everything I experienced though, none compare to the fact that I found a group of people I can call my own.  We lean on each other, we help each other out. I found a second family.  I truly believe the most important thing about derby is being part of the roller derby community. 

There is just something about our community.  Bonehawk hinted at it when we spoke years ago, but I didn't really hear it because I was too focused on myself.  I know now what she was talking about.  She was saying that no matter who you are, what your background is, religious beliefs, what you do for work, or what you do in the bedroom, there is a place for you - but not because we're just so open-minded, and not because we think we have a superior attitude than the rest of society, nothing like that.  This might seem circular, but there is a place for everyone in our community simply because we decided there should be,  and its our sense of community that prevents us from ever changing that decision. 

Thanks for letting me share this with you.


* Easy Break Oven, a transwoman from the Oil City Derby Girls presented earlier, and spoke about the WFTDA gender policy hormonal requirements.


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Give Her a Tip


On July Friday the 13th my derby wife had her 30th birthday party.  She called it the "Pants-off Dance-off".  No pants allowed.  I wore a skirt.  Most people wore shorts.  Some misunderstood entirely and showed up in their underwear.  As it turned out the title “Pants-off Dance-off” was likely named for the entertainment. 

Gin’s husband is in a band, so when we were told there was going to be entertainment we expected live music.  We were wrong.  We were herded into the basement, but the band was not there.  We patiently waited in the semi-dark a while, chatting and joking, when suddenly a blonde woman shouted “who wants to see some tits?”  Everyone looked at her like who is this weirdo? and so she had to shout “Serious, who wants to see some tits??” then she started dancing and the clothes started to come off.  Not meaning to sound lewd, it was really entertaining to watch.

A second dancer came out.  A brunette.  She was entertaining in a different way.  The blonde woman was very athletic and strong and I appreciated the muscles under her skin. The brunette woman was fascinating because of just how well she knew how to… be a stripper.  She looked like she was having the best night of her life with her favorite people in the world. I couldn't take my eyes off her if I wanted to.

Brunette brought out a chair, pulled Gin onto it, and started giving her a lap dance.  Gin was laughing and having a good time. I envied that. I was thinking about how uncomfortable I would be in that same position.  As if Gin could read my mind, she said something to the woman on her lap and in unison they both looked directly at me.  My heart sunk. Seconds later, the two of them took me by the arms.  Before I knew it, I was sitting on that chair with a fully naked woman writhing all over me.  Sensing my discomfort she put her arms around my neck, pulled herself close and whispered in my ear, "don’t feel weird, just love it."  Despite the advice, that moment was probably the most awkward I had felt in a long time… until about 30 seconds later when something far far far more awkward happened.

The dancer was doing her thing when suddenly she arched her back across my lap.  I raised my hands to support her.  I don't think I was supposed to touch her but she just really didn't feel stable. I like to promote stability in the naked women whose weight is on me so I put my right hand under her shoulder blades and my left hand under her ass.  She obviously accepted that offer of support because I felt her weight come down on both hands.  Then without warning she raised her right leg straight up in the air. 

With her right leg up like that, her butt cheek completely changed shape and position. I no longer felt any weight on the fingers of my left hand.  Without thinking, I allowed them to curl up for a better grip.  I swear, dear reader, that I had no idea my pinky finger was so close to her vagina.  

When I curled up my fingers I was shocked to discover that I had just made intimate contact with her lady-area.  When I say intimate, I mean penetration.  Pinky-in-the-pink.  I was told that the look on my face at that moment was "priceless".  The people watching all gasped and pointed and laughed. I felt more "horrified" than priceless as I sat there at the focal point of a group of on-lookers;  naked woman on my lap,  damp fingertip.  

Twice in my life I've had a group of people cheering my name in unison.  Once was during the "Mindfox vs Ladykillers" game, and the other was Friday, July 13th 2012, shortly after I put my finger in a stripper. 

~~~

The entertainment stayed at the party after they finished performing.  They (put on clothes and) hung out, drank and mingled with us.  I brought the brunette dancer a Palm Bay - "Official drink of the SRDL" - and I sincerely apologized for the poke.  She said that it was hilarious and I shouldn't worry about it (and that I had beautiful eyes).  Bella von Bastard walked over and said "You know Mega, you should probably give her a tip." Then she held up her hand, fingers curled in except her littlest finger, "I mean like money, not your fingertip again."

Tuesday, October 02, 2012

Epidemic

On Friday I was making kisses noises at Buddies. He considers this a prelude to an attack so he was frowning, his crest was slicked back, and his beak was open and ready to strike. Just before he lunged at my face, he rapid-fire sneezed three times. Bird snot speckled my face but my puckered-up lips bore the brunt of it. Now today I have a cold. 

It sucks, but it is looking like I am patient-zero for the bird flu. Sorry about the epidemic guys.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Random Act


I was sitting at my computer trying to determine what Chinese food to order when through the blinds I noticed something colourful outside the window, moving towards my back door.

I got up and went to the back door. When I arrived I saw a kid standing there.  He was about 11 or 12.  Short brown hair, green shirt.  Oh, and he was holding 5 helium-filled balloons.

He knocked. I opened the door.  He didn't say anything, and neither did I.  We just looked at each other for a few seconds.  Then he held out the hand that was holding the balloons.  I took them from him.

The kid turned around and walked slowly down the driveway.  He didn't look back. He made a left at the sidewalk and disappeared out of view.

I looked at the balloons.  Two blue, a pink, green and a yellow.  The yellow one has Mickey Mouse on it.  All five were tied to a piece of paper that said "COURTESY OF A RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS"