Monday, May 15, 2023
Upcoming Events from Sephera Giron
Tuesday, February 28, 2023
It's Mandalorian Eve!
SPOILERS SPOILERS IN PICTURES AND WORDS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
SPOILERS FOR ALL STAR WARS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
SPOILERS SPOILERS IN PICTURES AND WORDS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
SPOILERS FOR ALL STAR WARS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
It’s Mandalorian Eve!
I’m quite excited for it.
SPOILERS FOR ALL THAT STAR WARS STUFF!
I’m not going to cheat by looking it up, but I believe in the actual Mandalorian show, the season ended when Luke came and took Grogu for training at the Jedi Temple.
I still remember those moments wondering if it really would be Luke or not who finally shows up as the Jedi Master. I’d been so disappointed with the new trilogy that I didn’t dare hope that it really was Luke. But it was. And I was like a kid again!
watched The Book of Bobba Fett which turned out to be The Mandalorian and a
bunch of stuff happened to the Mandalorian storyline, if I recall correctly.
There was Obi-Wan
which also did some this and thats to the overall Star Wars storylines but I
don’t think it did anything to The Mandalorian?
I spent the past few days trudging through Andor just in case I needed to know something for The Mandalorian. I didn’t. I think if I’d watched Andor on my own terms, I’d have enjoyed it more. I was looking forward to binge-watching it in December, but then I couldn’t focus on shows for a couple of months. I still wasn’t in the mood for it when I turned it on.
It was beautifully shot, the acting was fantastic, there were some good storylines.
It’s funny how on Rotten Tomatoes, a lot of the reviews talk about how Andor is “adult” Star Wars. It’s funny because for huge hunks of the movie, I felt I was in my Lego Star Wars game, building, screwing, flying, leaping, climbing, stacking, and so on. It made me want to play but I continued to watch Andor. I guess it depends what you’re paying attention to.
At any rate, I’ve been doing my best to stay away from reviews, trailers and episode guides for The Manadorian, Season Three.
I’m wondering how they’ll explain some of the stuff that happened NOT in TheMandalorian series but in other series. I guess they have to do a flashback “our story thus far” for all the viewers who didn’t know they had to watch other shows to stay up to date. They’ll have to do such things anyways for the rest of us who did watch but it’s been so long, we forgot it all.
At the end of the last episode, not only did Luke come for Grogu, Dinn Djarin was in trouble for removing his helmet. There was also a battle over the darksaber. And more that I forget right now.
Who’s excited for The Mandalorian?
The wait is nearly over. It felt like forever, but at last, here we are on Mandalorian Eve.
the new season bring?
Sunday, February 26, 2023
Sephera Giron is now on Substack
Sèphera Girón is now on Substack
Sunday, February 5, 2023
A Different Time for Others
A Different Time for Others
For those who don’t know, I’m still grieving for my dad, who died suddenly and unexpectedly in December. My mind is hyper-focused on him, my mom, who has late-stage Alzheimer’s, and the depressing insurmountable and time-consuming tasks that these life events bring. So, my thoughts may be jumbled, and I apologize.
However, it’s Women in Horror month, and the shit has hit the fan in the horror community (again). I’ve been following the latest scandal a bit and listened to the podcast where Brian Keene, Mary SanGiovanni, and Christopher Golden addressed the scandal and offered thoughts around it, their journeys through the horror field these past few decades, and shared distressed, conflicting emotions.
I’m from same era as they are, around the same age, maybe a few years older; we all began our careers around the same time, admired the same authors, and have had our mighty ups and downs; both in our personal lives and professional ones.
One thing about being around as long as we have is that we’ve seen A LOT. Both in society as a whole and in the horror community. The past few years are proving to be smackdown years as the genre evolves and grows.
Times have changed dramatically. And I don’t mean just going from writing on typewriters to home computers to cell phones.
The younger generations roll their eyes when us elders say, “It was a different time.” They need to understand it’s not an excuse; it’s a true fact.
I was a teen in the seventies in London, Ontario, Canada, not knowing at the time that I was one of the first generations to experience women’s lib, the pill, abortion rights, the sexual revolution, striving for equality in the workplace, saw Star Wars when it was Star Wars, and I experienced a whole world BEFORE Star Wars ever existed!
As I’m of a certain age, I can say without question that I’ve been sexually harassed (as it’s termed these days) at nearly every job I’ve ever had, either by customers or bosses. I’m from the days when if a manager in a bar was mad at the staff, they would wing trays around, smash shit, and scream. Bosses screamed at staff while actively working in the restaurant or store or office or theatre or or or. Teachers gave the strap, threw chalk and erasers, and slapped.
“Others” were mocked, the scapegoats. Arstsy fartsies, effeminate people, nerds, clowns, and so on.
Even if you had something to say, (and some did have something to say over the years), a seeming voice of reason, the majority mocked or ignored, especially if you were “others.”
So, you blend in, playing chameleon. As most did. There might be whispers about the mighty gatekeepers, for in those days, there were always gatekeepers. Many gatekeepers were also “others,” but many were not. There was no internet. No way to know who shared your thoughts or experiences. Was it cultural? You knew the Emperor Had No Clothes, but you’re trained to blend in, don’t make waves, or all the gates slam shut.
And in those days, there were not a lot of gates if you had specific goals. Especially in the arts. Especially in the horror community.
The gatekeepers, if we’re now focusing on the horror community, weren’t necessarily editors and publishers themselves. Still, the gatekeepers rubbed elbows with all those who had various powers to find the keys that opened the gates to the kingdom.
People from around the world have different world views, and so kingdoms and gatekeepers and the gatekeepers’ gatekeepers are different as well. In Canada, the general stereotypical regard, especially back in the eighties, was that Americans are brash and rude. They push the envelope; they say stuff out loud that most would never say. They bark loudly but are usually harmless, and most mean well. So, I watched, giving a wide berth for “other cultures” in case I wasn’t “getting it”.
Being a bit cowed when I was younger, before the travails of life made me snarky and outspoken (as happens with crones), I saw many words and actions that I considered to be anything from demeaning to shocking to cruel and rude. I stood by not doing what I should, not fighting the fight and sometimes even piling on. I, too, have been the asshole. Absolutely.
In many areas of my life, I’ve been quiet when I should have stood up for myself or someone else. We’re the product of our choices and the good thing about life is that you can make new choices if the old ones don’t serve you. We have the ability to transform our thoughts and behaviour. We can learn how to “judge” in more gentle, sympathetic and empathetic ways.
And maybe that’s why “the kids these days” don’t understand “why didn’t you speak up against this or that?” or “why didn’t you report it?”
The younger generations may not realize that things like human resources departments only really came about in the nineties and beyond. Even into the 2000s, there were no real rights at jobs, at being human. There was no manager to talk to at all about anything. You just had to shut up and suck it up. If you complained about something you heard/saw to the wrong person, it could get out, and you’d never enter the kingdom. There was no one in charge, and self-policing groups for behaviours that weren’t outright assault or stalking weren’t really a thing yet.
There are masks. There are different personas for different people. Not everyone sees a person’s every side. We all have different sides, I would think. Especially if, over the years, we’re on various medications, drugs, alcohol, are in a cult, abusive relationship, someone died, and so on. Some people change over the years. Some for the worst. Some don’t change at all.
If there were words or actions that felt wrong, who did you tell back then?
With no internet or mass communication, there was no way to know that others felt it too.
But now we do have mass communication. Sometimes, too much.
I truly admire the newer generations pointing at infractions of humanity, grievous infractions that many had slipped past, denied, ignored, placated, or shrugged off.
Many elders like Brian, Mary, Chris and myself are listening and learning. We’re learning that being silent did no one any good. We now have our eyes open that allies fighting for what’s just common decency are in full view and in great numbers. We don’t have to make nice anymore. We can call it as we see it, and people will back us up.
This has been a great awakening for me these past few years. I’m hoping to find my own strength to call out that which isn’t right. And I sincerely apologize to those I let down or didn’t protect. I’m working harder all the time to be better. A few years ago, I began making a YouTube theme of “Writers Behaving Badly” in an attempt to uncover some of these things but then stopped when the depression of lockdown and such kicked in.
My dad was an immigrant, part of a boatload of children from Spain sent to the States as “orphans” to start a new life. His life was a series of horrors; racism, religious abuse, physical abuse and more for being “others”. Yet, for my whole life, he judged people by deeds and character and devoured history about all cultures, races, genders and sexuality, always trying to understand why humans are so horrible to each other. He shunned all organized religions, believed they were invented to control others, and that you don’t need a religion to be a decent person. He was a humanist.
I miss my dad.
But I know, parents die, and I was lucky to have him in my life for sixty years. I credit him and my mom for making me more focused on character and deeds and to be curious about how we historically got here from all cultural, religious, and racial aspects. My whole immediate family is prone to giving people “the benefit of the doubt,” and I’m learning as I age that there’s no law that says we have to do that. That was from the “don’t make waves” generations. We don’t have to be that anymore. I’ve felt distressed for decades about some things I’ve seen and heard in many areas of my life, and regret rarely doing much about but, usually, because I didn’t know what to do.
The younger generations are giving me the strength to see that something CAN be done about a lot of things.
This is eye-opening for so many of us. Sometimes evolution and revolution are good things.
To a very few, I’d like to suggest that instead of shaming and blaming and JUDGING us with “how could you not know?” or “why didn’t you report it?” why not be patient and teach us how to be better at fighting it? One day, you too will be of “a different time.”
These days on social media, there are witch hunts for the witch hunts and I’m not sure that’s any better than the original issue. Digging into people’s privacy (spying on who is “friends” with someone, for instance) and dictating your personal beliefs on how things should be handled (unfriend or else…!) is just as bad as being the misogynist, racist, homophobic asshole you’re complaining about, in my opinion. So to those few, I suggest you focus on getting your own life straight and do your part to fight the fight, which doesn’t include shaming and blaming other people for their own choices in how they handle a controversy if they even know about it. Not everyone spends their time online sucking up your drama.
|See how much we've learned since this ad ran in the sixties?!?!|
And to everyone and especially to those who feel like they’re on the outside looking in, “others,” let’s keep fighting and learning and growing together. There is room for every human being at the table in every house in every kingdom. Claim your spot!
Happy Women in Horror Month!
Books from Tales
Let Us Burn is finished and up.
Dearly Departed came out in late 2022! Have you picked up your copy yet? Lots of horror shorts in this collection by Andrew Robertson and myself from The Great Lakes Horror Company!
Saturday, January 21, 2023
My Dad, Arsenio Giron, has Died
I’m not at the profound reflection stage of grief yet. I’m still in the early stages of shock and perhaps a bit of denial.
My dad died suddenly in December of heart failure and undiagnosed bowel perforation, and though I was with him, somehow, and am grateful I was there with him when he died, the flashbacks are overwhelming at times.
As anyone who has lost a parent knows or understands, so many pieces float through your mind; the good, the bad and the ugly.
Right now, I’m living in a cloud, a fog, a sadness that I’m not sure I’ll ever overcome, but I guess I will with time. Others who have lost parents tell me that time will help.
Coupled with that, my mom is in late-stage Alzheimer’s, and though she still knows me, her oldest daughter, the rest of her life is a foggy blur that she can’t navigate.
My parents both began life with horrible childhoods, and the end of their lives is awful too, and it devastates me, even when dad was still alive.
They had a rare love story and in finding so many love letters in the house, it breaks my heart even more.
They were perfectly suited for each other, bonded in their tragic beginnings and their passion for music. Dad wrote music that mom played on piano in concerts for decades. He’s a recognized Canadian composer. Mom was a beloved piano teacher. She’s not touched the keys in years. Dad was composing even the day before he died.
They lived for their summers in Maine in the cabin that dad built by hand. They were married not far from where they ultimately built their cabin. This last summer, they made the journey after several years of lockdown, and it sounded like a hellscape experience, but at least they got one last moment.
Mom still lives, but it’s a wretched life, and I had to put her in a home as I can’t manage the wandering and the incontinence plus, I live in a tiny studio apartment. We’ve not told her that her beloved husband has died as we are sure the shock would kill her. I think she knows on some level as the sadness when we visit not only emanates from us but from her as well. She doesn’t dare ask for him; I’m sure she thinks he abandoned her as she had greatly feared when Alzheimer’s began its grip on her. I want to tell her that he didn’t leave her, he never wanted to leave her, he couldn’t even face putting her in a home though she should have been in one a couple of years ago for both of their safety and peace of mind. But there’s no way to explain any of it as she’d be devastated only to forget a moment later…or would she? But why bring such pain to her when her life is so horrible right now. And it will be horrible until she dies too.
I can only hope that dad is with her somehow, to comfort her in her dreams. I hope they can ultimately be reunited with each other, their parents and dad’s brothers, dad’s beloved dog, Mixie, somewhere, somehow. I carry some of dad's ashes in my purse, especially when I visit mom in the hope he’s saying hello somehow. Magical thinking, yes, but it gets me through the day.
Yes, I’m a horror writer, and it’s in writing that I try to battle my demons. My father was one of my biggest fans and cheerleaders. And I’m beyond devastated that he left me so suddenly and completely with no chance to ease into the idea that he would be here no longer on this earth.
Rest in Power, daddy.
I need to write a better obituary at the funeral home, but I don't have the strength yet.
I need to organize a memorial service for my dad, but I can't face it yet, nor can my brother.
We need to find out what to do with hundreds of dad's music manuscripts, most written by hand. Does the University of Western Ontario Music Department want them for the archives? I don't know where to start, and every time I begin an email, I collapse into tears and can't do it.