Sprinklers in the Rain Blog

Kiksuya is the best of Westworld S2 yet

I’m going to be honest: season 2 of Westworld has bored the hell outta me.

At this point, I feel like they’re being confusing just for the sake of being confusing. I can’t make heads or tails of anything going on. Is this scene now? Is that scene the future? Are they in the past? WHY are they being so vague about everything? I’ve felt like I’m watching a magician who, after pulling off a moderately surprising trick in the first act, continues to try to outdo himself to no avail for the rest of the show. And for my next trick…

To be honest, I could probably figure it out if I actually cared to do so. That’s just the problem: I don’t. The character arcs seemed to reach a satisfying peak in season one, and now they just seem to be running off the rails. Dolores & Co are just rampaging robots, out for revenge. They’re windup toys, let loose only to fall off the edge of the table. Is that really the best you’ve got?

But this week’s episode was a HUGE step in the right direction for me. Kiksuya appeared to be a filler episode, something I wouldn’t be interested in watching at all. What would an episode about one of the Ghost Nation have to do with anything?

kiksuya - westworld

Y’all, this episode was AMAZING. It did so many things right, and is hands down the best of this season so far.


Reading roundup! May 2018


Lots of great books this month, as well as a few… uhh duds. Standouts for the month definitely being Jemisin’s Broken Earth trilogy, and I’ll Be Gone in the Dark – Michelle McNamara’s obsessive and tragically unfinished profile of the Golden State Killer. Scroll down for the summary!


Reading Roundup! April 2018

Well, this is just pathetic. Three books for the month of April – two of them being audiobooks. IN MY DEFENSE, I’ve ended the month reading all sorts of things at once that will fall over into next month’s reads. May is gonna be great!

Also, The Fifth Season was one of those books you just kinda need a moment after reading.


The End of an Era

George RR Martin's new Not a Blog

I’ve always admired George RR Martin’s stubborn refusal to move on from Livejournal. When the world moved on to MySpace, then Facebook, he just kept plugging away in the corner. Any time someone longingly reminisced about the good ‘ole days of LJ, someone would always say, “Well, Martin’s still using it. There’s nothing stopping the rest of us from going back.”

Of course, none of us ever did. Sometimes I would go back to my friend’s page to see if anyone was still using it, but it was just Martin post after Martin post. Trust him to keep that poor page active. The man single-handedly kept the world from forgetting that LJ ever existed.

And now, it’s gone.

Today, he ditched his Livejournal for a self-hosted blog. I admire the lengths his webmasters went in creating an experience almost identical to the old format. The man has userpics, alien moods on every post – the works! Can someone convince them to do what they’ve done there to bring Livejournal back for the rest of us? Please?

I can’t think of anyone even half as prolific still using the platform, so I guess that’s that. We’re off life support – it’s finally time to pronounce Livejournal dead.

Will there ever be another as great? Let us commemorate this passing by going through our embarrassing LJ posts still just sitting there for anyone to look at.


Drinking to medicate social anxiety, and The Mourning After


I went drinking last night. Today, I have a hangover of the mind.

People talk about hangovers. They talk about feeling sick in the morning, or the headaches, or thirst. I can deal with that. Those are things you can take care of. A tall glass of Emergen-C. Excedrin. A greasy breakfast packed with enough carbs to knock you out for another three hours. Water, and lots of it.

But there’s another sort of hangover I can’t deal with: the dread. Hangxiety. Shame shudders. THE FEAR. Whatever you want to call it, it’s killing me.

I used to only get it occasionally, but lately it’s happening every time I drink. Deep in my chest, it feels like it’s constricting my heart and I can barely breathe. An intense feeling of guilt and regret, for no reason other than existing. When I pull the blankets over my head, it’s not because I’m sick and the light hurts. I’m hiding.

See, the physical hangover goes away. The mental one does not. Long after the headache has dulled, I reel in self-loathing for days. Conversations from the night before play over and over in my head. I pause them, zoom in, analyze reactions and find everything I did wrong.