Characters:
Bill Rafferty
Jay Bilas
Sean McDonough
Jimmy
Karl Ravech
Jason
Mike Brey
EXT. BEAUTIFUL REEFS. The camera...ah, who cares? It's freaking Hawaii!
INT. A BASKETBALL ARENA. Players in crimson and others in white warm up. The camera pans to three men in Hawaiian shirts. One is tall, one is funny looking, and the third can best be described as "a voice." They are the broadcast team.
Sean: Welcome etc.
Jay: Intelligent comment.
Bill: Thing that doesn't make sense.
Sean: Reasonable Commentary.
Jay: Insightful contribution.
Sean: Straight-talk about a good play.
Bill: (growls) NAME! UNINTELLIGIBLE WORD!
Sean: Jimmy has something for us on the sidelines.
Jimmy: I pestered the heck out of the coaches, and they told me "I'm tryin' to coach here."
Jay: I love Tom Crean.
Sean: Relevant pleasantry.
Jay: Excellent post play!
Bill: THING THAT'S ACTUALLY RELEVANT SHOUTED FAR TOO LOUDLY!
Sean: Stalkerish comment about player's family.
Guy at home: Harangody's mom is hot.
Sean: They're about to head into the locker room, Notre Dame with a 19 point lead. Jimmy's with Mike Brey.
Jimmy: How do you feel about this half?
Mike Brey: We're better than they are.
INT. A FUTURISTIC, DOOFISH LOOKING NEWS STUDIO. The camera focuses on two men, a self-important d-bag alongside your average sports anchor.
Karl: I'm important, and he's not.
Jason: Yes I am. Jerk.
Karl: Irrelevant side story to fill time.
Jason: Man I hate this job.
INT. THE BASKETBALL ARENA. Play resumes.
Sean: We're back.
Jay: Continued smart basketball point.
Bill: (mouth foaming) BUCKETS! ONIONS! BUCKETS OF ONIONS!
Jay: Homoerotic comment about players, or possibly Tom Crean.
Sean: Filler comment to distract from boring, lopsided game.
Bill: (emits gurgling sound, then) LITTLE KISS! NAME! BASKETBALL! STRANGE NOISE THAT MIGHT BE A WORD!
Jay: Bill, the game's over.
Bill: Buckets?
..scene..
Monday, November 24, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Some quick writing practice
I recently discovered the six-word memoir, here at Smith Magazine. I suppose I can quote myself here, since the site says I keep the copyright but anyone can quote me for non-commercial use. Anyway, here are my inaugural entries:
Six Word Memoir:
"Who needs money? ...guess I did."
"Wondered why. found answer. I forgot"
On Love and heartbreak:
"We thought not, yet still were." (this one I'm proud of)
All are attributed to Benjamin D. Plume, aka me.
I just hope I don't end up accidentally plagiarizing. At only six words, it seems that would be easy. I would think a lot of entries end up at least very similar without one stealing another's work.
Six Word Memoir:
"Who needs money? ...guess I did."
"Wondered why. found answer. I forgot"
On Love and heartbreak:
"We thought not, yet still were." (this one I'm proud of)
All are attributed to Benjamin D. Plume, aka me.
I just hope I don't end up accidentally plagiarizing. At only six words, it seems that would be easy. I would think a lot of entries end up at least very similar without one stealing another's work.
Monday, October 20, 2008
File Under "NoYDB"
Or, "None of Your Damn Business." Rather, none of our damn business. For once, I am in support of an action taken (or in this case not taken) by Sarah Palin.
I'm sorry, but this is supposed to be private.
Voters need to be informed regarding who they're voting for in a democracy, but no one should be asked to release their medical records to the public.
I'm sorry, but this is supposed to be private.
Voters need to be informed regarding who they're voting for in a democracy, but no one should be asked to release their medical records to the public.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Top 10 Sci Fi shows
This isn't based on anything, or for any particular reason. I haven't blogged in a while, and I was watching Babylon 5, and it got me thinking about my all-time favorites. so here we go:
10 Alien Nation
9 Futurama
8 Star Trek: Voyager
7 Babylon 5
6 Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
5 Buffy the Vampire Slayer
4 Star Trek: The Next Generation
3 Angel
2 Battlestar Gallactica (new version)
1 Firefly
Not quite making the list were Sliders, Roswell, Andromeda, and Third Rock from the Sun...and the other two Trek Series. Again, this has no basis in objectivity, just what I personally found appealing. I would probably include the X Files had I ever really watched it.
10 Alien Nation
9 Futurama
8 Star Trek: Voyager
7 Babylon 5
6 Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
5 Buffy the Vampire Slayer
4 Star Trek: The Next Generation
3 Angel
2 Battlestar Gallactica (new version)
1 Firefly
Not quite making the list were Sliders, Roswell, Andromeda, and Third Rock from the Sun...and the other two Trek Series. Again, this has no basis in objectivity, just what I personally found appealing. I would probably include the X Files had I ever really watched it.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Science, politics, and stupid people
First, let me say, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhh. h. hhhh.
I am so tired of the refusal to accept scientific discoveries simply because they might alter the status quo. I am tired of closed-mindedness, and of people who blindly follow the wrong leaders in their thinking. I am tired of politicized science, and yes I admit that it happens on both sides of every issue. Would you like to know what I'm talking about? Browse there, and read some of the links. Fascinting stuff.
To the sheep, I raise this question: whom do you find more trustworthy? A politician whose job requires dissembling and dishonesty, and often open lying...and a majority of whom use their clout to get away with violations of the law? Or a scientist motivated by a desire for knowledge, whose job requires by its very nature honesty, open-mindedness, and clear reporting? Of course of late the line has been blurred, as both left and right have dipped their hands into science, using money, power, and threats to coerce scientists to manipulate results.
Still, if a staggering majority of the scientific community holds a similar position on something it seems only reasonable that they are correct, especially at times when the opposite view is held by a majority of elected officials (see: climate change from 2000-2004). It would seem to me that the majority of political influence on science would have to come from the party in power. If that is still not enough to tip the scales, don't you think the position of the scientists is the stronger?
Both scientists and politicians are often brilliant, but the former are brilliant at discovery while the latter are brilliant at manipulating human minds. Again, which do YOU find more credible?
Here is a brief and incomplete history of political (and religious, which really amounts to the same thing) opposition to science. Let's see if there is a trend.
Heliocentrism: Philolaus hypothesized in the 4th Century BC that the Earth moved. In 1543 Copernicus's work was published (posthumously) even then it was forced to contain a preface stating that it was merely "mathematical convenience" and not reality. It was not until the 17th century that it was accepted by the church (and hence, the western leaders) as correct that Earth revovled around sun. So, 2000 years...I don't have that kind of time to wait for people to admit truth, and anyone who fails to do so is an enemy of knowledge.
An intersting fabrication, not so much of science but of history, is this. Man, I was taught in school, as an undeniable fact, that the Catholics thought the world was flat...how unbelievably depressing that truth can be shunted so easily...
In 1543 Vesalius counted ribs in men and women, and was met with fierce controversy...shouldn't men have one fewer than women if God made Eve from Adam's rib? Anyone want to count now? Why was this one even a problem? I mean, even for literal-minded morons it would seem to make sense that Cain and Abel would be born with the normal number of ribs.
King James I said the following in regard to smoking: "A custome lothsome to the eye, hatefull to the Nose, harmfull to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and in the blacke stinking fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomelesse." It took until 1964 for the Surgeon General of the US to point out how bad it was. Even then the tobacco industry and its stakeholders tried to convince the public otherwise.
That last link also mentions the 10-year delay of plate tectonic theory, because it was "classified military information" relevant to "underseas warfare."
I could go on, but the idea is that there are always those who would oppose new science for selfish reasons, or to preserve the status quo, and those fools are at last proven dramatically and completely wrong. Does anyone (sane and reasonable) now dispute the Solar system, human rib count, the hazards of tobacco, or plate tectonics?
Now, two major controversies of science face us. Both have obtained scientific consensus, although opponenets deny the existence of such a consensus in either. One is opposed politically, the other religiously. They are climate change and evolution. The arguments against scientific consensus come from people who do not know what the phrase means.
I will not go into the details of why either of these theories is clearly correct. The point here is that history is on the side of the scientific community. Why can't we accept science now, so that those who worked for it can realize its benefits, instead of rationing those benefits only to their distant descendants?
I am so tired of the refusal to accept scientific discoveries simply because they might alter the status quo. I am tired of closed-mindedness, and of people who blindly follow the wrong leaders in their thinking. I am tired of politicized science, and yes I admit that it happens on both sides of every issue. Would you like to know what I'm talking about? Browse there, and read some of the links. Fascinting stuff.
To the sheep, I raise this question: whom do you find more trustworthy? A politician whose job requires dissembling and dishonesty, and often open lying...and a majority of whom use their clout to get away with violations of the law? Or a scientist motivated by a desire for knowledge, whose job requires by its very nature honesty, open-mindedness, and clear reporting? Of course of late the line has been blurred, as both left and right have dipped their hands into science, using money, power, and threats to coerce scientists to manipulate results.
Still, if a staggering majority of the scientific community holds a similar position on something it seems only reasonable that they are correct, especially at times when the opposite view is held by a majority of elected officials (see: climate change from 2000-2004). It would seem to me that the majority of political influence on science would have to come from the party in power. If that is still not enough to tip the scales, don't you think the position of the scientists is the stronger?
Both scientists and politicians are often brilliant, but the former are brilliant at discovery while the latter are brilliant at manipulating human minds. Again, which do YOU find more credible?
Here is a brief and incomplete history of political (and religious, which really amounts to the same thing) opposition to science. Let's see if there is a trend.
Heliocentrism: Philolaus hypothesized in the 4th Century BC that the Earth moved. In 1543 Copernicus's work was published (posthumously) even then it was forced to contain a preface stating that it was merely "mathematical convenience" and not reality. It was not until the 17th century that it was accepted by the church (and hence, the western leaders) as correct that Earth revovled around sun. So, 2000 years...I don't have that kind of time to wait for people to admit truth, and anyone who fails to do so is an enemy of knowledge.
An intersting fabrication, not so much of science but of history, is this. Man, I was taught in school, as an undeniable fact, that the Catholics thought the world was flat...how unbelievably depressing that truth can be shunted so easily...
In 1543 Vesalius counted ribs in men and women, and was met with fierce controversy...shouldn't men have one fewer than women if God made Eve from Adam's rib? Anyone want to count now? Why was this one even a problem? I mean, even for literal-minded morons it would seem to make sense that Cain and Abel would be born with the normal number of ribs.
King James I said the following in regard to smoking: "A custome lothsome to the eye, hatefull to the Nose, harmfull to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and in the blacke stinking fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomelesse." It took until 1964 for the Surgeon General of the US to point out how bad it was. Even then the tobacco industry and its stakeholders tried to convince the public otherwise.
That last link also mentions the 10-year delay of plate tectonic theory, because it was "classified military information" relevant to "underseas warfare."
I could go on, but the idea is that there are always those who would oppose new science for selfish reasons, or to preserve the status quo, and those fools are at last proven dramatically and completely wrong. Does anyone (sane and reasonable) now dispute the Solar system, human rib count, the hazards of tobacco, or plate tectonics?
Now, two major controversies of science face us. Both have obtained scientific consensus, although opponenets deny the existence of such a consensus in either. One is opposed politically, the other religiously. They are climate change and evolution. The arguments against scientific consensus come from people who do not know what the phrase means.
I will not go into the details of why either of these theories is clearly correct. The point here is that history is on the side of the scientific community. Why can't we accept science now, so that those who worked for it can realize its benefits, instead of rationing those benefits only to their distant descendants?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Just a couple of random colliding brain cells
1) Now that so many documents require only the last 4 digits of a SSN, in an effort to tighten securtiy, won't that just make the last four a coveted piece of information? Now one can be scammed with only 4 digits, instead of 9.
2) Any job worth doing may be worth doing well, but when you find yourself forced to a task not worth doing, you might as well half-ass it. Then you'll save energy for those worth doing.
2) Any job worth doing may be worth doing well, but when you find yourself forced to a task not worth doing, you might as well half-ass it. Then you'll save energy for those worth doing.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Nomenclature
In a fit of inspiration (or silliness, depending on your point of view), I decided to rename my blog. For one thing I was never satisfied, even remotely, with the "Deep and Shallow Waters" moniker. For another, I wanted the title to speak at least in part to what this blog is about. Since it wasn't about much of anything except a collection of thoughts, this was no easy task.
The significance of the new name is this: As a collection of my thoughts, this blog is nothing more than personal reflection. Of course everyone's reflections are unique, but I feel that mine are often further out of the vein than most. That isn't to be a braggart, but it has been observed that my mind is a little strange. Too true. Everything that bounces around in my head certainly comes out at a different angle, redirected by my sense of humor, my cynicism (which isn't ever-present but can be strong), my tendency to search for middle ground, the war between my realist and idealist sides, or one of my other many eccentricities. Since thoughts are reflections, and reflections bent are refractions, then what are skewed thoughts but refractions? Hence, I unveil "Reflections are Refractions."
The significance of the new name is this: As a collection of my thoughts, this blog is nothing more than personal reflection. Of course everyone's reflections are unique, but I feel that mine are often further out of the vein than most. That isn't to be a braggart, but it has been observed that my mind is a little strange. Too true. Everything that bounces around in my head certainly comes out at a different angle, redirected by my sense of humor, my cynicism (which isn't ever-present but can be strong), my tendency to search for middle ground, the war between my realist and idealist sides, or one of my other many eccentricities. Since thoughts are reflections, and reflections bent are refractions, then what are skewed thoughts but refractions? Hence, I unveil "Reflections are Refractions."
Monday, July 28, 2008
Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time
Specifically, The Eye of the World
I just finished my fourth (it might be fifth) reading of this book, and I have to say that I am now more impressed with it than I had been in previous reads. I thought it was pretty great before, so that's no small praise.
There are, of course, the things the book was acclaimed for: a rich world full of deep characters moved by exciting events. The pacing in this one is very brisk, unlike some of the later installments (which I still like, but after about Book 6 they lack the same punch). Jordan really seems to do a good job with his female characters, for a male writer. He comes at it from both sides on likely gender issues in a society with that level of technology. The Tolkien elements are there, but fresh and sometimes hard to identify as such because he managed to stick to the formula but be unique.
What impressed me the most, though, was how thoroughly planned Jordan's Third Age world is. In book one he foreshadows events and themes from books 2-11 (and things we haven't even seen yet), and the manner shows that he didn't just retroactively decide to use things, in most cases. To any WoT readers who stumble upon this blog (an unlikely ocurrence, I suppose) I strongly recommend reading the series once, reading This FAQ, and then starting again with Book 1. I know this seems like a lot, and it won't make sense to do it this way if the series is complete by the time you finish, but I feel that it is the best way to get everything out of the experience.
What follows has what some might consider spoilers, so if you don't like those stop reading. Besides, this won't make any sense to you if you haven't read the books yet anyway.
Did you stop reading yet?
Are you sure?
One more warning!
I lied, here's another:
SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
OK, so below is a list of things I hadn't caught before that are part of the impressive, if sometimes smart-alecky, foreshadowing that goes on.
Mat, before leaving Emond's Field: "battles interest me!"
The chapter where Padan Fain shows up has a Dragon's Fang as its icon. This should tell you something is up with him from the start.
In Rand's first dream, I believe we get a glimpse of "The Song," but Rand forgets. This leads me to believe Rand will find the song, along with the circumstantial evidence that he is the prophesied one for the regular folk, the Aiel, the Seanchan, the Sea Folk, so why not the Tinkers? Sure some of the other people are reborn heroes, but Rand is the only one we know has Age of Legends memories bouncing around in his skull, even if he is insane.
With the information that the dude claiming to be Ba'alzamon in Rand, Mat, and Perrin's dreams is actually Ishamael, it becomes pretty obvious that he was loose during the whole third age, and responsible for the Trolloc Wars and for the bad parts of Artur Hawkwing. Sounds like that "doom yet to come" is the Return, and is supposed to tip the scales in the Last Battle.
I am just, in general, impressed with how many of the little quirks of the way the WoT world works that show up before you know what they are. Unless you have one heck of a memory, you won't remember them all for what they are later without a second reading. For example, all the little ta'veren pulls that show up, tel'aran'rhiod and its connection to the "wolf dream," not just Min's visions but her attitude, what Bayle Domon has floating along in that boat of his (not to mention all the things in the world he described, we still haven't seen that island with a humming web over it), and how the myths of Randland are the realities of our world and vice versa, demonstrated from the very beginning.
Also interesting that he begins to establish, all the way back here, the relationships between Aiel, Tinkers, and Ogier...and the Seanchan to Artur Hawkwing, and the way male/female channelers can work together assuming they both exist.
It's also interesting that the other boys joke about Mat being Aemon reborn when he starts shouting in the old tongue...it seems that Mat is someone else from Manetheren reborn, rather than the king himself, but it is also a healthy little bit of foreshadowing.
END OF SPOILERS
I guess the most impressive thing is that he weaves over 150 named characters, and the number of unnamed folks with something to say or do probably brings the total over 200, into the tapestry of eight major characters, all while describing so much of a vast world, without ever really seeming overwhelming. Unlike LOTR, which just has a list of Kings and Dwarves and lord knows what all else, each character is identifiable and you can tell which ones are significant and which ones you can relegate to unimportance. I mean, 150 names! but there still is little trouble keeping them straight, and when any show up later in the series it's easy to pick them out. This gets harder in later volumes, because you end up with hundreds and hundreds of names, spread out over 15 or so nations, Aes Sedai (split into two major camps), the Kin, Sea Folk, Aiel clans, Whitecloaks, Asha'man, good guys/bad guys/indeterminant guys, etc.
OK, I realize that at this point I am rambling solely out of boredom, and my efforts would better be directed elsewhere.
I just finished my fourth (it might be fifth) reading of this book, and I have to say that I am now more impressed with it than I had been in previous reads. I thought it was pretty great before, so that's no small praise.
There are, of course, the things the book was acclaimed for: a rich world full of deep characters moved by exciting events. The pacing in this one is very brisk, unlike some of the later installments (which I still like, but after about Book 6 they lack the same punch). Jordan really seems to do a good job with his female characters, for a male writer. He comes at it from both sides on likely gender issues in a society with that level of technology. The Tolkien elements are there, but fresh and sometimes hard to identify as such because he managed to stick to the formula but be unique.
What impressed me the most, though, was how thoroughly planned Jordan's Third Age world is. In book one he foreshadows events and themes from books 2-11 (and things we haven't even seen yet), and the manner shows that he didn't just retroactively decide to use things, in most cases. To any WoT readers who stumble upon this blog (an unlikely ocurrence, I suppose) I strongly recommend reading the series once, reading This FAQ, and then starting again with Book 1. I know this seems like a lot, and it won't make sense to do it this way if the series is complete by the time you finish, but I feel that it is the best way to get everything out of the experience.
What follows has what some might consider spoilers, so if you don't like those stop reading. Besides, this won't make any sense to you if you haven't read the books yet anyway.
Did you stop reading yet?
Are you sure?
One more warning!
I lied, here's another:
SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
OK, so below is a list of things I hadn't caught before that are part of the impressive, if sometimes smart-alecky, foreshadowing that goes on.
Mat, before leaving Emond's Field: "battles interest me!"
The chapter where Padan Fain shows up has a Dragon's Fang as its icon. This should tell you something is up with him from the start.
In Rand's first dream, I believe we get a glimpse of "The Song," but Rand forgets. This leads me to believe Rand will find the song, along with the circumstantial evidence that he is the prophesied one for the regular folk, the Aiel, the Seanchan, the Sea Folk, so why not the Tinkers? Sure some of the other people are reborn heroes, but Rand is the only one we know has Age of Legends memories bouncing around in his skull, even if he is insane.
With the information that the dude claiming to be Ba'alzamon in Rand, Mat, and Perrin's dreams is actually Ishamael, it becomes pretty obvious that he was loose during the whole third age, and responsible for the Trolloc Wars and for the bad parts of Artur Hawkwing. Sounds like that "doom yet to come" is the Return, and is supposed to tip the scales in the Last Battle.
I am just, in general, impressed with how many of the little quirks of the way the WoT world works that show up before you know what they are. Unless you have one heck of a memory, you won't remember them all for what they are later without a second reading. For example, all the little ta'veren pulls that show up, tel'aran'rhiod and its connection to the "wolf dream," not just Min's visions but her attitude, what Bayle Domon has floating along in that boat of his (not to mention all the things in the world he described, we still haven't seen that island with a humming web over it), and how the myths of Randland are the realities of our world and vice versa, demonstrated from the very beginning.
Also interesting that he begins to establish, all the way back here, the relationships between Aiel, Tinkers, and Ogier...and the Seanchan to Artur Hawkwing, and the way male/female channelers can work together assuming they both exist.
It's also interesting that the other boys joke about Mat being Aemon reborn when he starts shouting in the old tongue...it seems that Mat is someone else from Manetheren reborn, rather than the king himself, but it is also a healthy little bit of foreshadowing.
END OF SPOILERS
I guess the most impressive thing is that he weaves over 150 named characters, and the number of unnamed folks with something to say or do probably brings the total over 200, into the tapestry of eight major characters, all while describing so much of a vast world, without ever really seeming overwhelming. Unlike LOTR, which just has a list of Kings and Dwarves and lord knows what all else, each character is identifiable and you can tell which ones are significant and which ones you can relegate to unimportance. I mean, 150 names! but there still is little trouble keeping them straight, and when any show up later in the series it's easy to pick them out. This gets harder in later volumes, because you end up with hundreds and hundreds of names, spread out over 15 or so nations, Aes Sedai (split into two major camps), the Kin, Sea Folk, Aiel clans, Whitecloaks, Asha'man, good guys/bad guys/indeterminant guys, etc.
OK, I realize that at this point I am rambling solely out of boredom, and my efforts would better be directed elsewhere.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Two posts in one day? Absurd!
And yet, it is so! This one will be short, though...
...and the kitten, after weeks of struggles to express itself, finally exclaimed to the world, "I've found my mews!"
...and the kitten, after weeks of struggles to express itself, finally exclaimed to the world, "I've found my mews!"
The Great Leap Forward
Or is it a tiny one?
I'm not sure, but I recently had a eureka moment in the writing project that I've devoted the most time to of late. I previously had a protagonist, an outcome, and a few situations to get there. Each piece was coming along well, but there wasn't much substance. I thought there was enough for a short story, but I was caught trying to unify the concepts into a single moving story while keeping the length down.
The epiphany came after, when watching a movie, I came up with an idea for another story, and quite a few details from an antagonist's point of view. As this concept began to take shape, I realized more and more that this antagonist and his actions were the perfect counterpoint to my hero's story. With only a few additional pieces of characterization, I had a sort of dark twin.
Now, I've only written about 600 words of this new addition so far, and the similarities in the characters are not quite so clear yet, but the foundations are there. I don't yet have the flow that will weave all the scenes together, or a definite placing of each situation in relation to the others. I do think, now, that I finally have enough material to seize and turn into a novel-length tale. It remains to be seen, though, how it all comes out on paper and if I can produce a coherent sequence. For the moment, optimism reigns!
I'm not sure why I feel inclined to post to my blog about this, when I should be writing further. I suppose in the past reflections on my writing process have helped me to focus. It certainly doesn't hurt to evaluate my strengths and weaknesses periodically. Yet somehow this always seems like a waste of valuable time.
I'm not sure, but I recently had a eureka moment in the writing project that I've devoted the most time to of late. I previously had a protagonist, an outcome, and a few situations to get there. Each piece was coming along well, but there wasn't much substance. I thought there was enough for a short story, but I was caught trying to unify the concepts into a single moving story while keeping the length down.
The epiphany came after, when watching a movie, I came up with an idea for another story, and quite a few details from an antagonist's point of view. As this concept began to take shape, I realized more and more that this antagonist and his actions were the perfect counterpoint to my hero's story. With only a few additional pieces of characterization, I had a sort of dark twin.
Now, I've only written about 600 words of this new addition so far, and the similarities in the characters are not quite so clear yet, but the foundations are there. I don't yet have the flow that will weave all the scenes together, or a definite placing of each situation in relation to the others. I do think, now, that I finally have enough material to seize and turn into a novel-length tale. It remains to be seen, though, how it all comes out on paper and if I can produce a coherent sequence. For the moment, optimism reigns!
I'm not sure why I feel inclined to post to my blog about this, when I should be writing further. I suppose in the past reflections on my writing process have helped me to focus. It certainly doesn't hurt to evaluate my strengths and weaknesses periodically. Yet somehow this always seems like a waste of valuable time.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Caution: Rant ahead
Worst. Commute. Ever.
A commute that usually lasts approx. 40 minutes took me 1:25 this morning. Absolutely unacceptable. A small part was due to my lack of observational skills when reading, but that should've only cost me five minutes. The breakdown that follows is why I was 45 minutes late and very frustrated.
First, I just missed a train at Silver Spring. Should've been no big deal, right? Well, it's true that the next train was only two minutes behind, but it kept stopping between every station because of delays with the train I missed. Now, I realize that the train I didn't catch was delayed as well, but mine was delayed even further because of the cleanup after those delays. So that's that piece of brilliance.
So, I arrive at my customary transfer station, Gallery Place - Chinatown, just a bit behind schedule. Again, no big deal, right? Except. Always except. It turns out that the yellow and green lines were also experiencing delays (which it sounds like I would've outpaced on the train I missed), in both directions, for some such malfunction or other. So I waited patiently, thinking "oh well, at least I'll get a few more pages read while I wait." This next part is what was my fault, though. Usually, what happens here is that the first train after I arrive is Green Line, which I don't want. This was, as expected, the case. Also usually, though, the following train is Yelow Line, which I do want. I guess today they added an extra Green somewhere to help clear the delay, but I didn't notice this due to my book and my autopilot. I usually am anal retentive about double checking, but today I was already mildly aggravated so I just leapt on.
This also should have caused only minor problems (or none if I caught the mistake before Le'Enfant Plaza). What happens, though, is that when the Green and Yellow Lines split you end up one stop out of your way. So, when this happened I immediately got off, crossed the station, and got on the return train that was just arriving. Should've been no problem, right?
Here's another except. Except, the delays in the other direction were still happening. So the train moved about three feet, and then came a message about a dozen times about how sorry they were, and thanking all of us for our patience. It didn't help that the gentleman operating the train 1) didn't know how to accelerate or brake properly, with all the stops and starts and 2) was apparently a mental midget as all of his apologies were stammered and stuttered and clipped. This did not enhance the experience.
Success! The train was moving. The operator announced that Le'Enfant Plaza loomed ahead. But the train stopped again. The operator began "I'm sorry but...we appreciate your...We've been asked to make an announcement...I apologize..." I think it took him three or four more intros like that to get to "We're experiencing another Yellow Line delay due to a sick customer on the train at the sation ahead. Personnel are on the scene."
This was the last straw for me, but apparently not for the cosmos. Once I disembarked to turn back around toward my destination, I sped over to the opposite platform in anticipation of a train. Of course again the next two were Green Line, useless hunks of metal and plastic and humanity. At last the proper train arrived, and angels sang (or at least laughed at me melodically). I sat down, and we were away. Of course this didn't stop them from stopping between every station, again. I'm not exactly sure why, either, since the previous yellow line train left Le'Enfant at least 6 minutes before.
At long last, I arrived at Crystal City. The trek was finally at its end...or was it? Not before, of course, the requisite crowd of the morbidly obese blocking the escalators and gates. Also not before the large crowd of other delayed persons caused me to miss the first two elevators, and after the third stopped on all 7 floors before mine.
OK. I am now calm. but, one last thing.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!
A commute that usually lasts approx. 40 minutes took me 1:25 this morning. Absolutely unacceptable. A small part was due to my lack of observational skills when reading, but that should've only cost me five minutes. The breakdown that follows is why I was 45 minutes late and very frustrated.
First, I just missed a train at Silver Spring. Should've been no big deal, right? Well, it's true that the next train was only two minutes behind, but it kept stopping between every station because of delays with the train I missed. Now, I realize that the train I didn't catch was delayed as well, but mine was delayed even further because of the cleanup after those delays. So that's that piece of brilliance.
So, I arrive at my customary transfer station, Gallery Place - Chinatown, just a bit behind schedule. Again, no big deal, right? Except. Always except. It turns out that the yellow and green lines were also experiencing delays (which it sounds like I would've outpaced on the train I missed), in both directions, for some such malfunction or other. So I waited patiently, thinking "oh well, at least I'll get a few more pages read while I wait." This next part is what was my fault, though. Usually, what happens here is that the first train after I arrive is Green Line, which I don't want. This was, as expected, the case. Also usually, though, the following train is Yelow Line, which I do want. I guess today they added an extra Green somewhere to help clear the delay, but I didn't notice this due to my book and my autopilot. I usually am anal retentive about double checking, but today I was already mildly aggravated so I just leapt on.
This also should have caused only minor problems (or none if I caught the mistake before Le'Enfant Plaza). What happens, though, is that when the Green and Yellow Lines split you end up one stop out of your way. So, when this happened I immediately got off, crossed the station, and got on the return train that was just arriving. Should've been no problem, right?
Here's another except. Except, the delays in the other direction were still happening. So the train moved about three feet, and then came a message about a dozen times about how sorry they were, and thanking all of us for our patience. It didn't help that the gentleman operating the train 1) didn't know how to accelerate or brake properly, with all the stops and starts and 2) was apparently a mental midget as all of his apologies were stammered and stuttered and clipped. This did not enhance the experience.
Success! The train was moving. The operator announced that Le'Enfant Plaza loomed ahead. But the train stopped again. The operator began "I'm sorry but...we appreciate your...We've been asked to make an announcement...I apologize..." I think it took him three or four more intros like that to get to "We're experiencing another Yellow Line delay due to a sick customer on the train at the sation ahead. Personnel are on the scene."
This was the last straw for me, but apparently not for the cosmos. Once I disembarked to turn back around toward my destination, I sped over to the opposite platform in anticipation of a train. Of course again the next two were Green Line, useless hunks of metal and plastic and humanity. At last the proper train arrived, and angels sang (or at least laughed at me melodically). I sat down, and we were away. Of course this didn't stop them from stopping between every station, again. I'm not exactly sure why, either, since the previous yellow line train left Le'Enfant at least 6 minutes before.
At long last, I arrived at Crystal City. The trek was finally at its end...or was it? Not before, of course, the requisite crowd of the morbidly obese blocking the escalators and gates. Also not before the large crowd of other delayed persons caused me to miss the first two elevators, and after the third stopped on all 7 floors before mine.
OK. I am now calm. but, one last thing.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Get 'em, Slick
Slick Phalanges exited Rhipauff's executive conference room without exiting his world of confident bliss. Not only had all the praise for the deft exploitation of Alley Girl gone to him, he'd managed to steer the new single decision so that the windfall would go straight to his cronies at MediaFarm. When he owned half the globe, he thought, he might look back on today as the ultimate scale-tipper. Calculating his next dozen or so moves, he held the door open for the Executive Director.
"Hey, Slick...bounce up to my office in fifteen!"
At that request, the next fourteen passed in a haze of euphoria. This was absolutely the day. In a way that was a shame, because he'd really hoped more...experiments would be necessary to get the big break. Well, even from the top there were always reasons to get one's hands dirty. So it was with great anticipation that Slick arrived, one minute early, at the office of Lee Quiggsley Dastard, CPA, DDS, MPA, XYZ PDQ, Executive Director.
"Come in, come in," began Dastard. "We have much to discuss." If you've ever seen a creationist propelled through time to a dinner party with H. Erectus, then you know the look that crossed Slick Phalanges's eyes. Otherwise, just accept that it was not best pleased and very confused. For on Dastard's desk perched a lovely family portrait, next to which rested a striking still image of a bread-knife beheading. Phalanges goggled into a distressingly clear image of his own eyes.
"Yes, quite grisly, isn't it. It's such a tragedy that we were unable to identify the fellow with the cutlery. Of course, you've been called here to discuss matters of a much more pleasant nature." With each word Slick's devious mind spun faster and faster, finally coming to rest with its little clicky flag stuck on the tine between "internal maniacal laughter" and "celebratory cash register noise." He wasn't quite out of trouble, but this was something he could work with.
"Of course, sir. What are your needs?"
Dastard rose, and strolled around to the front of his desk. He leaned back, ankles crossed in a casual pose and lifted the greusome image gently. "Well, Slick, you've shown some real ambition lately. You certainly went for the throat on this Alley Girl situation, and that's something we need here at Rhipauff Records. It seems that as a direct result of your employment here, things have come to a head, through your ability to cut through some of the issues holding us down. Your recent decisions have shown real resolve and achieved immediate results. That's why I'm promoting you to Assistant Executive in charge of Special Operations. I'd like to give you manus liberi, but please understand that if results change we may be forced to...reevaluate even your early decisions." Slick was too deserving of his own name to miss the poignancy with which "throat," "head," and "cut through" were said. This was a good deal, and he was in a position where he'd have said yes to even a terrible one. Dastard deserved his name, too.
Slick shook Dastard's offered hand. "Sir, I believe we can work together here. I'll take everything you've just said straight to heart." As he pranced out through the opaque glass doors, he added to himself "yours, of course." Now that Lee Dastard was firmly on his experiment list, the day truly couldn't get any better.
"Hey, Slick...bounce up to my office in fifteen!"
At that request, the next fourteen passed in a haze of euphoria. This was absolutely the day. In a way that was a shame, because he'd really hoped more...experiments would be necessary to get the big break. Well, even from the top there were always reasons to get one's hands dirty. So it was with great anticipation that Slick arrived, one minute early, at the office of Lee Quiggsley Dastard, CPA, DDS, MPA, XYZ PDQ, Executive Director.
"Come in, come in," began Dastard. "We have much to discuss." If you've ever seen a creationist propelled through time to a dinner party with H. Erectus, then you know the look that crossed Slick Phalanges's eyes. Otherwise, just accept that it was not best pleased and very confused. For on Dastard's desk perched a lovely family portrait, next to which rested a striking still image of a bread-knife beheading. Phalanges goggled into a distressingly clear image of his own eyes.
"Yes, quite grisly, isn't it. It's such a tragedy that we were unable to identify the fellow with the cutlery. Of course, you've been called here to discuss matters of a much more pleasant nature." With each word Slick's devious mind spun faster and faster, finally coming to rest with its little clicky flag stuck on the tine between "internal maniacal laughter" and "celebratory cash register noise." He wasn't quite out of trouble, but this was something he could work with.
"Of course, sir. What are your needs?"
Dastard rose, and strolled around to the front of his desk. He leaned back, ankles crossed in a casual pose and lifted the greusome image gently. "Well, Slick, you've shown some real ambition lately. You certainly went for the throat on this Alley Girl situation, and that's something we need here at Rhipauff Records. It seems that as a direct result of your employment here, things have come to a head, through your ability to cut through some of the issues holding us down. Your recent decisions have shown real resolve and achieved immediate results. That's why I'm promoting you to Assistant Executive in charge of Special Operations. I'd like to give you manus liberi, but please understand that if results change we may be forced to...reevaluate even your early decisions." Slick was too deserving of his own name to miss the poignancy with which "throat," "head," and "cut through" were said. This was a good deal, and he was in a position where he'd have said yes to even a terrible one. Dastard deserved his name, too.
Slick shook Dastard's offered hand. "Sir, I believe we can work together here. I'll take everything you've just said straight to heart." As he pranced out through the opaque glass doors, he added to himself "yours, of course." Now that Lee Dastard was firmly on his experiment list, the day truly couldn't get any better.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
On Music
Was it the segment - on Sesame Street, I believe, though my memory has unified the television of developmental years into a single mosaic - proclaiming "rhythm is everywhere"? Was it the intoxicating transcendence attached to singing in church? Correct in belief or not, there is power in a hundred voices melodically affirming faith. Was it theme songs, Disney movies, lullabies, ad jingles, Christmas carols, kum-ba-yas, or parades? It certainly wasn't singing "ta, ta, ti-ti ta"" with my grade school music teacher. Her methods might have been generally proper but they sure didn't make me want to learn music.
Something, including any, all, or none of the above, switched on the music in me. From the beginning of memory and presumably before I have craved music: to hear, to sing, to play (but not to dance, never that), and to feel.
Whatever chose my interest - God, god, or gods; the universe, fate, chance, biology, environment, the music itself, or me - was a fan of the underdog. I wasn't drawn in for my musical talents. I knew early that I didn't have perfect pitch, and it became increasingly clear that in one sense I am tone deaf. What I mean is that while I can recognize when two instruments are out of tune with one another, I am utterly incapable of determining which is incorrect and in which direction. This led to a lot of embarrassing moments of frozen terror while I pondered whether I was sharp, flat, or pockmarked with grainy bumps. This same embarrassment arose when after years of tromboning I still couldn't recognize the accuracy of pitch of one horn playing alone.
I was also ungifted in voice quality, lung capacity, and muscle memory. There are other areas of deficiency, but those sum the problem well. I suppose I did have the math proficiency requisite to success in music, and the ability to read and interpret symbols. I was also possessed of a certain amount of resourcefulness.
The lack of natural talents and abilities didn't deter me from blundering ahead. I discovered that while I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, I could send it where it needed to go with a system of pullys, levers, hoists, and boxes. I was never really able to "feel" the music, but this mental Rube Goldberg approach brought me to a respectable level of proficiency.
So far, the results of my duct-tape remedies have produced a competent trombone player and a nearly competent singer. I can read most music with at least an approximation of correctness, but to capture its style I must hear it once (or more). It continues to amaze me that the same rhythm and pitches can be played correctly many subtly different ways. I liken it to "finding the zeroes" in algebra. Upon sight reading, though, I always seem to pick the wrong interpretation .
I suppose full disclosure would force the past tense upon me, as I have allowed a year to pass since playing or singing music save sing-alongs with the radio or at concerts. I am not ready to believe, though, that my time as a trombnist has ended more than temporarily. I don't claim excellence, but I do claim competence and derive enjoyment from playing.
It's something of a paradox that I achieved even competence. Practice happened, but not with stunning regularity. I never studied music theory, so I didn't even try to compensate for my shortcomings by application of my strengths. Competent or not, it is clear that I am a member of a group or section and not a soloist. I was never able to acquire "my own sound," nor did I evolve the ability to maintain tone quality at great volumes. And dear lord, don't ask me to improv. To extend this truth to my vocal chords, I can read choral music and sing a part more or less properly, but my range is sorely limited in both directions and my voice just isn't that pleasant on its own.
So why all these ponderings on music? Mere reflection, perhaps, but also an acknowledgement of what music has always stirred in me. There are few things in life not improved by good music, and most are improved even by bad music. It was my privilege to learn this lesson early, and so my thoughts often turn to melody and harmony. I will close with a recollection regarding music's black-sheep cousin: dance. A friendly lady who was (and still is) active in my childhood churh had a great repoire with the children among the congregation, and was particularly prone to praise my achievements and helpfulness. She had several pet phrases at her command, such as "he's no flat tire." Her favorite, or at least the one I earned the most often, was "I'll dance at your wedding." Even then, I could only think "Good. That's one less I'll have to dance."
Something, including any, all, or none of the above, switched on the music in me. From the beginning of memory and presumably before I have craved music: to hear, to sing, to play (but not to dance, never that), and to feel.
Whatever chose my interest - God, god, or gods; the universe, fate, chance, biology, environment, the music itself, or me - was a fan of the underdog. I wasn't drawn in for my musical talents. I knew early that I didn't have perfect pitch, and it became increasingly clear that in one sense I am tone deaf. What I mean is that while I can recognize when two instruments are out of tune with one another, I am utterly incapable of determining which is incorrect and in which direction. This led to a lot of embarrassing moments of frozen terror while I pondered whether I was sharp, flat, or pockmarked with grainy bumps. This same embarrassment arose when after years of tromboning I still couldn't recognize the accuracy of pitch of one horn playing alone.
I was also ungifted in voice quality, lung capacity, and muscle memory. There are other areas of deficiency, but those sum the problem well. I suppose I did have the math proficiency requisite to success in music, and the ability to read and interpret symbols. I was also possessed of a certain amount of resourcefulness.
The lack of natural talents and abilities didn't deter me from blundering ahead. I discovered that while I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, I could send it where it needed to go with a system of pullys, levers, hoists, and boxes. I was never really able to "feel" the music, but this mental Rube Goldberg approach brought me to a respectable level of proficiency.
So far, the results of my duct-tape remedies have produced a competent trombone player and a nearly competent singer. I can read most music with at least an approximation of correctness, but to capture its style I must hear it once (or more). It continues to amaze me that the same rhythm and pitches can be played correctly many subtly different ways. I liken it to "finding the zeroes" in algebra. Upon sight reading, though, I always seem to pick the wrong interpretation .
I suppose full disclosure would force the past tense upon me, as I have allowed a year to pass since playing or singing music save sing-alongs with the radio or at concerts. I am not ready to believe, though, that my time as a trombnist has ended more than temporarily. I don't claim excellence, but I do claim competence and derive enjoyment from playing.
It's something of a paradox that I achieved even competence. Practice happened, but not with stunning regularity. I never studied music theory, so I didn't even try to compensate for my shortcomings by application of my strengths. Competent or not, it is clear that I am a member of a group or section and not a soloist. I was never able to acquire "my own sound," nor did I evolve the ability to maintain tone quality at great volumes. And dear lord, don't ask me to improv. To extend this truth to my vocal chords, I can read choral music and sing a part more or less properly, but my range is sorely limited in both directions and my voice just isn't that pleasant on its own.
So why all these ponderings on music? Mere reflection, perhaps, but also an acknowledgement of what music has always stirred in me. There are few things in life not improved by good music, and most are improved even by bad music. It was my privilege to learn this lesson early, and so my thoughts often turn to melody and harmony. I will close with a recollection regarding music's black-sheep cousin: dance. A friendly lady who was (and still is) active in my childhood churh had a great repoire with the children among the congregation, and was particularly prone to praise my achievements and helpfulness. She had several pet phrases at her command, such as "he's no flat tire." Her favorite, or at least the one I earned the most often, was "I'll dance at your wedding." Even then, I could only think "Good. That's one less I'll have to dance."
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Peculiar
Minister: I now pronounce you man and wife.
New Husband: Well, you're going to have some awkward conversations in the future.
New Wife: Thank God for pre-nups!
Readers of this blog: wha?
New Husband: Well, you're going to have some awkward conversations in the future.
New Wife: Thank God for pre-nups!
Readers of this blog: wha?
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Kind of funny
I just received an email from the National Eagle Scout Association. Unfortunately, in my inbox the sender is abbreviated to "National Eagle Scout Ass." Perhaps someone should tell them.
Friday, May 23, 2008
I'm not surprised, but...
Drivers suck. I'm also not surprised that New York, Massachusetts, and DC are among the worst. New Jersey made it too.
Oh boy! I get to leave DC to drive to Massachusets through New Jersey and New York for Memorial Day weekend.
Oh boy! I get to leave DC to drive to Massachusets through New Jersey and New York for Memorial Day weekend.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Language laughs
Just a few little giggles from today, and a memory of a few weeks ago...
I received an email today, as a response to wishing someone a happy birthday and to enjoy the time off. It read "Thank you, I will defiantly enjoy some much needed rest." I'm sure the meaning was "definitely" but the mistake is strangely appropriate.
This reminded me of a few weeks ago, when I was preparing to send a very carefully worded email to a coworker named "Butch." Fortunately, I realized before hitting "send" that I'd spelled his name with an "i."
A quick swiftie, of my own creation: "You're giving me Whiplash," Tom said Snidely. I hope no one has beaten me to that one. I'm quite proud of it.
Finally, an observation: see what happens when you insert a Grand Pause between the syllables in "grandpas."
I received an email today, as a response to wishing someone a happy birthday and to enjoy the time off. It read "Thank you, I will defiantly enjoy some much needed rest." I'm sure the meaning was "definitely" but the mistake is strangely appropriate.
This reminded me of a few weeks ago, when I was preparing to send a very carefully worded email to a coworker named "Butch." Fortunately, I realized before hitting "send" that I'd spelled his name with an "i."
A quick swiftie, of my own creation: "You're giving me Whiplash," Tom said Snidely. I hope no one has beaten me to that one. I'm quite proud of it.
Finally, an observation: see what happens when you insert a Grand Pause between the syllables in "grandpas."
Friday, May 9, 2008
A True Challenge
As one beginning to write seriously, in hope of discovering whether my talent is useless, worthy of publication, or lucrative, I am engaged in constant discovery. My most recent breakthrough has been to identify one of the great mysteries of good writing. I have a good understanding of the rules and a head for when to bend or break them. My vocabulary is sufficient, and I possess the discipline to use unusual words only where they fit best. I am confident enough to push forward yet humble enough to seek constant improvement from within and without. Among my shortcomings, though, is the lack of an instinct for what is bold versus what is hackneyed.
The two are often distinguished by the finest of lines. The same turn of phrase may be hackneyed in one context yet bold in another. The context may be formality: The journalist can take fewer liberties than the novelist, who can take fewer than the poet. The context may also be genre. The same degree of liberties may exist from one to the next, but each has its own flavor of boldness. Inextricably linked to these contexts is another: audience. The difference between freshness and garbage is ultimately determined by perception and reception. If one's readers think it stinks, then it stinks. Finally (perhaps distressingly), recognition has become another gauge. A prolific author may come to define what is bold. A passage written by a literary giant may be received as bold. The same passage, were it written by a newcomer, might be considered trite. Perhaps established authors have earned that much leniency - I don't mean to imply that the quality of their work suffers. My theory regarding this is that editors become more reluctant to strike down dangerous phrases as authors gain prominence. No writer is perfect, and as fewer changes are recommended more "mistakes" make it to the public. Also contributing to this effect is the reluctance of readers to acept a new voice. Those with a name are more readily trusted to mold the language in the right ways. This is not a criticism, but an observation of an inevitible result of Western thought. Skepticism is prized, so credibility must be earned.
As a reader and as a writer, I have recently encountered perhaps two dozen passages that are either bold or hackneyed, but whose classification eludes me. This is a notable stumbling block, because ordinarily I find reading to be the cure for a difficulty with writing. My method thus far has been to simply include the questionable content, mark it for later editing, and move on. This will do for now, but eventually I must make the decisions. I have decided, though, that rather than allow frustration to settle I will view this with excitement. Understanding this challenge is a positive step in my writing, and I am optimistic that mastery of the situation will come.
The two are often distinguished by the finest of lines. The same turn of phrase may be hackneyed in one context yet bold in another. The context may be formality: The journalist can take fewer liberties than the novelist, who can take fewer than the poet. The context may also be genre. The same degree of liberties may exist from one to the next, but each has its own flavor of boldness. Inextricably linked to these contexts is another: audience. The difference between freshness and garbage is ultimately determined by perception and reception. If one's readers think it stinks, then it stinks. Finally (perhaps distressingly), recognition has become another gauge. A prolific author may come to define what is bold. A passage written by a literary giant may be received as bold. The same passage, were it written by a newcomer, might be considered trite. Perhaps established authors have earned that much leniency - I don't mean to imply that the quality of their work suffers. My theory regarding this is that editors become more reluctant to strike down dangerous phrases as authors gain prominence. No writer is perfect, and as fewer changes are recommended more "mistakes" make it to the public. Also contributing to this effect is the reluctance of readers to acept a new voice. Those with a name are more readily trusted to mold the language in the right ways. This is not a criticism, but an observation of an inevitible result of Western thought. Skepticism is prized, so credibility must be earned.
As a reader and as a writer, I have recently encountered perhaps two dozen passages that are either bold or hackneyed, but whose classification eludes me. This is a notable stumbling block, because ordinarily I find reading to be the cure for a difficulty with writing. My method thus far has been to simply include the questionable content, mark it for later editing, and move on. This will do for now, but eventually I must make the decisions. I have decided, though, that rather than allow frustration to settle I will view this with excitement. Understanding this challenge is a positive step in my writing, and I am optimistic that mastery of the situation will come.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Update on files situation
I'm proud of myself. I purchased a bargain machine from w00t, a refurb slightly better than what I'd have otherwise bough and for slightly cheaper. The real bargain was the $5 shipping. Rather than fix my old POS, I bought a case and turned my old hard drive into an external. I grabbed all the files I need, wiped it, and now I have an 80 GB dump drive! woohoo!
I have not yet purchased MS Office, however, so I'm still waiting to be able to use those files again. The part I was afraid would be complicated is done, and it wasn't. Soon I will have that list of 100 books, with the added ones I've read since and have been keeping track of with ink and paper.
In other news, after reading Stephen King's On Writing, I am more confident than ever that I will soon at least know whether I have any future in the field. I have purchased a copy of Writer's Market, which also has an excellent web version; and am in general more motivated and dedicated to finishing projects. Before, it was write for a while, get some promising passages thrown down, and maybe hashing out 1,000 words of first draft.
I have not yet purchased MS Office, however, so I'm still waiting to be able to use those files again. The part I was afraid would be complicated is done, and it wasn't. Soon I will have that list of 100 books, with the added ones I've read since and have been keeping track of with ink and paper.
In other news, after reading Stephen King's On Writing, I am more confident than ever that I will soon at least know whether I have any future in the field. I have purchased a copy of Writer's Market, which also has an excellent web version; and am in general more motivated and dedicated to finishing projects. Before, it was write for a while, get some promising passages thrown down, and maybe hashing out 1,000 words of first draft.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Here's hoping they don't combine this with "Google Bombs"
This seems like an extraordinarily bad idea to me. Really, who thought this one up?
Enemies fleeing from you? Use new Google Refugee to kill every last one of the bastards!
Need better data on how to hit 'em where it hurts? Google Earth now features new Google Target logos pinpointing each food and health supply tent.
Perhaps next will be Google Counterintelligence or Google Troop Movements?
Enemies fleeing from you? Use new Google Refugee to kill every last one of the bastards!
Need better data on how to hit 'em where it hurts? Google Earth now features new Google Target logos pinpointing each food and health supply tent.
Perhaps next will be Google Counterintelligence or Google Troop Movements?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Inspiration!
Well, I'm starting to feel more confident about my writing (less confident, though, because I have this uncontrollable urge to start every blog post with "Well," or "So"). I do seem to be getting inspiration from all kinds of sources. Perhaps because I've been reading so prolifically lately, or maybe because I've been bored at work a lot.
That completely random story I posted here came from having a song stuck in my head. A recent character sketch came from a trip to Arlington National Cemetery. A pet project of mine got a bit of attention just because yesterday.
I still need to improve the writing itself (and will always need to, since there is no perfect writer), but when inspiration comes regularly it begins to lift the greatest hurdle for me, which is consistently spending time with the notepad or the keyboard.
That completely random story I posted here came from having a song stuck in my head. A recent character sketch came from a trip to Arlington National Cemetery. A pet project of mine got a bit of attention just because yesterday.
I still need to improve the writing itself (and will always need to, since there is no perfect writer), but when inspiration comes regularly it begins to lift the greatest hurdle for me, which is consistently spending time with the notepad or the keyboard.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Life
Wheels churn (or spin uselessly, with some things) and life goes on...
Visited the old homestead over Easter weekend. The puppy was excited to be out in the open air and have a huge yard to run in. It felt good for me to be outside a bit, too. It was great to see family and old friends. I got a chance to dig into my old kids' books as well, and made progress on my recent quest to archive all the books I've read. I realize I'll never get to 100% because of textbooks, research projects, trips to the library, and forgotten give-aways...but I'm trying to nail it down as tightly as possible. I'm at an estimate of 850 and counting.
I'm going to be the proud owner of a new Desktop soon. I'm tired of being reliant on my girlfriend's old, busted-up laptop. Tax refund = new machine. I also fully intend to recover the info on the old hard drive one of these days, but the most important things are backed up.
The job goes OK. Not exciting, and some days nothing happens while other days I'm going crazy to get things done. Not much in between. Still, it pays and isn't onerous. My 1-year contract expires in September. Will I stay on? Doubt it, but who knows. Will I go back to the temp agency? Maybe. Will I seek something else entirely? Probably. Editing jobs sound good, but so do a half-dozen other things. I think I want a private sector or non-profit job next, for comparison. I guess more school is in the cards in 3 or 4 years.
Then there's the stupid stuff. Gotta set up an appointment to switch auto insurance to MD, get the car inspected and registered here, get the new liscense...sigh. I found an insurance agent and DMV info, but haven't managed to get the appointment or paperwork yet. I need to find a dentist, and probably a regular doctor as well. Not like I'm in a real hurry for those. I also have to call my Canadian lawyer again and try to avoid getting the crap sued out of me for a car accident that happened when I was 17. RIDICULOUS! Why does everyone hafta be out to screw everyone else so they can get some money? It's little colorful paper that doesn't buy much of anything anymore anyway. Anywho...
Visited the old homestead over Easter weekend. The puppy was excited to be out in the open air and have a huge yard to run in. It felt good for me to be outside a bit, too. It was great to see family and old friends. I got a chance to dig into my old kids' books as well, and made progress on my recent quest to archive all the books I've read. I realize I'll never get to 100% because of textbooks, research projects, trips to the library, and forgotten give-aways...but I'm trying to nail it down as tightly as possible. I'm at an estimate of 850 and counting.
I'm going to be the proud owner of a new Desktop soon. I'm tired of being reliant on my girlfriend's old, busted-up laptop. Tax refund = new machine. I also fully intend to recover the info on the old hard drive one of these days, but the most important things are backed up.
The job goes OK. Not exciting, and some days nothing happens while other days I'm going crazy to get things done. Not much in between. Still, it pays and isn't onerous. My 1-year contract expires in September. Will I stay on? Doubt it, but who knows. Will I go back to the temp agency? Maybe. Will I seek something else entirely? Probably. Editing jobs sound good, but so do a half-dozen other things. I think I want a private sector or non-profit job next, for comparison. I guess more school is in the cards in 3 or 4 years.
Then there's the stupid stuff. Gotta set up an appointment to switch auto insurance to MD, get the car inspected and registered here, get the new liscense...sigh. I found an insurance agent and DMV info, but haven't managed to get the appointment or paperwork yet. I need to find a dentist, and probably a regular doctor as well. Not like I'm in a real hurry for those. I also have to call my Canadian lawyer again and try to avoid getting the crap sued out of me for a car accident that happened when I was 17. RIDICULOUS! Why does everyone hafta be out to screw everyone else so they can get some money? It's little colorful paper that doesn't buy much of anything anymore anyway. Anywho...
Friday, March 21, 2008
It has come to my attention...
...that the lack of an intro to my previous post left whatever poor sods stumble across this blog without a clue as to what was going on. Well, in a way that was intended, but in another it was assumed that those reading it would pick up on the gist of it.
It was my own work, and the little blurb was inspired by my having Seal's "Kiss From a Rose" stuck in my head. The goofy artist and song titles started piling up, and from there I decided to build a context for them just to get the wackiness on paper (or rather, in electrons). The commentary on the music industry was secondary-I wasn't looking for a way to attack it, but one came up and so I took full advantage.
I intend to use this blog on occasion to jot down wacky ideas like that...and who knows, maybe some of the characters will be featured. I don't know if that last entry will be a starting point for more or just an exercise.
It was my own work, and the little blurb was inspired by my having Seal's "Kiss From a Rose" stuck in my head. The goofy artist and song titles started piling up, and from there I decided to build a context for them just to get the wackiness on paper (or rather, in electrons). The commentary on the music industry was secondary-I wasn't looking for a way to attack it, but one came up and so I took full advantage.
I intend to use this blog on occasion to jot down wacky ideas like that...and who knows, maybe some of the characters will be featured. I don't know if that last entry will be a starting point for more or just an exercise.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Romantic action (preposition) flower
It was a busy day at Rhipauff Records. Three hundred demo tapes had arrived in the past week. Two hundred ninety-eight of them had been immediately burned, but the remaining two would take hours to review. About a dozen half-nude girls with guitars, violins, harmonicas, and in one case a comb covered in wax paper nervously waited in the lobby. Most of these had exchanged various deeds of lesser repute for promises of time in the recording studio, and each one's patron was heatedly arguing for why his charge's talentless keening would make the most money. The only actual musician within eleven miles was the houseless girl in the alley. You couldn't call her homeless, since she lived permanently behind the trash bin abutting the studio. She too was half-nude, but only because her possessions consisted entirely of a half-eaten sandwich, half a pair of shoes, half a blanket, a one-legged set of mens' trousers, a midriff shirt, a half-dollar, and a whole drum set. She spent most of her time playing a much-improved version of the In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida drum solo. A significant portion of Rhipauff's man-hours were devoted to hiding her from anyone who might recognize talent while assuring her that she was on the waiting list for Studio A.
The most critical decision of the day was which Single to produce from the list of carbon copy artist's they'd assembled this month. The closest they'd come was concluding that Manatee's "Humped by a Daisy" was right out. There was still a close battle raging among Sea Lion's "Violated by a Tulip," Walrus's "Tonsil-Hockey with Queen Anne's Lace," and Beluga's "Lovemaking of the Snapdragon." They were determined to ride the coattails of Sea Mammal's number one hit, "Affectionate Gesture from a Flowering Plant."
Amid all this commotion, Slick Phalanges was hunting the path to the top. The company's profit margin was higher than it had ever been, and ol' SP knew he could take all the credit with the right moves. It wasn't he who had taped Alley Girl's drumming and laid the track in sync with all the songs on Rhipauff's last several records, but only he knew who did. It had often been said of the real person responsible that he would forget his head if it weren't screwed on. Well, SP had tested that theory. Unsurprisingly, he learned that the head had never been screwed on at all, but rather attached by some elasticy stuff, some gooey stuff, and some chalky stuff. The real knowledge gained from his experiment had been which of those substances was easiest to cut with a dull bread knife.
The most critical decision of the day was which Single to produce from the list of carbon copy artist's they'd assembled this month. The closest they'd come was concluding that Manatee's "Humped by a Daisy" was right out. There was still a close battle raging among Sea Lion's "Violated by a Tulip," Walrus's "Tonsil-Hockey with Queen Anne's Lace," and Beluga's "Lovemaking of the Snapdragon." They were determined to ride the coattails of Sea Mammal's number one hit, "Affectionate Gesture from a Flowering Plant."
Amid all this commotion, Slick Phalanges was hunting the path to the top. The company's profit margin was higher than it had ever been, and ol' SP knew he could take all the credit with the right moves. It wasn't he who had taped Alley Girl's drumming and laid the track in sync with all the songs on Rhipauff's last several records, but only he knew who did. It had often been said of the real person responsible that he would forget his head if it weren't screwed on. Well, SP had tested that theory. Unsurprisingly, he learned that the head had never been screwed on at all, but rather attached by some elasticy stuff, some gooey stuff, and some chalky stuff. The real knowledge gained from his experiment had been which of those substances was easiest to cut with a dull bread knife.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Long time coming
There was a definite blogging drought in blogging from me. It wasn't for lack of desire to blog, or for lack of topics...well, at first it was for lack of topics. Then it was for business taking care of general life stuff, then it was the Holidays, then it was sports blogging (I'm pittbaster @ CBSSports.com). After that it was a new puppy, and work, and then it was a broken computer.
I hope to be back with a vengeance now. I had a list of the last 100 books I read all prepared, with recommendations and such, but I have lost (I'm optimistic about recovering it, I think my broken computer is fixable given time) the fancy spreadsheet that had it all laid out and my memory isn't good enough to remember all 100 in order. I suppose it's good news that I had backups of pretty much everything else important.
I hope to be back with a vengeance now. I had a list of the last 100 books I read all prepared, with recommendations and such, but I have lost (I'm optimistic about recovering it, I think my broken computer is fixable given time) the fancy spreadsheet that had it all laid out and my memory isn't good enough to remember all 100 in order. I suppose it's good news that I had backups of pretty much everything else important.
Democratic Primary Mess
I was bored here at work, so I looked at some election coverage and did some math to try to figure the whole mess out. Every way I can see it going favors Obama, but only by a very narrow margin. I made three scenarios, erring on the pessimistic side for the Obama camp, and in only one of them did he get the target number of delegates. 35 delegates went to Edwards and can't be reclaimed, and in my mock-ups it was close enough that that mattered. A lot of this was based on guesswork of who will win by how much where, but I think I made reasonable guesses.
For all scenarios, I awarded states yet to vote the following way (very rough guesses based on region/demographic/type of election):
Scenario 1:
So far -
After all elections, before remaining Superdelegates -
After Superdelegates -
So, seating the delegates from Florida and Michigan would not necessarily remove the problem of no candidate hitting the target number for a majority. There could easily be a contested race at the convention anyway.
Scenario 2: Florida and Michigan revote, and are seated at the convention. In this revote, I assumed that Clinton would win both states, Florida 55% and Michigan 60%. Under that assumption, Obama still picked up more delegates from these states and closed the gap percentage-wise.
After all elections, before remianing Superdelegates -
After Superdelegates -
So even in the revote situation, unless things change in those states, it may be that neither candidate can get to the "finish line."
Scenario 3: Florida and Michigan are not seated at all. This is certainly not a desirable situation, but I included it in case they can't figure something out. I read somewhere that since Florida's Governor is a Republican he flat-out refuses to use money from the State to fund another election. The Michigan folks say that it violates their State Constitution to revote a primary, but that they could do a caucus. What a mess...
After all elections, before remaining Superdelegates -
After Superdelegates
So, believe it or not, if my guesses on the States yet to vote are close to correct, the only way a candidate would get a majority is for Michigan and Florida to be denied seats.
In Summary: Unless Clinton surprises and wins some states Obama should, or really cleans up in the states she should win, Obama's lead should hold up, but only barely. I think my estimates were on the optimistic side if one is a Clinton supporter, as well. The biggest hole I can punch in my own argument (apart from the obvious fact that I don't really know how states will vote) is that there may be reason to believe that the Superdelegates would not continue to support Clinton at the same rate if Obama had the 50-100 delegate lead I'm projecting efore they cast their votes. It seems like the talking heads who are saying that no one can reach the finish line without Michigan or Florida are ignoring the fact that the target number gets higher when those states are counted.
For all scenarios, I awarded states yet to vote the following way (very rough guesses based on region/demographic/type of election):
Obama - North Carolina (55%), Indiana (60%), Oregon (55%), South Dakota (51%), Montana (50% [8-8 in delegates])
Clinton - Pennsylvania (60%), West Virginia (60%), Mississippi (51%), Kentucky (60%), Puerto Rico (60%), Guam (50% [2-2 in delegates])
I gave Clinton every state I thought she could win, except Montana which I have no idea about. I also awarded remaining Superdelegates at the same percentage as those already committed. One of the territories has 2.5 delegates as yet unawarded, I gave those to Clinton (making an even split for that election).
Scenario 1:
Florida and Michigan are seated as-is (I gave Obama the 40% of "uncommitted" delegates). This would push the number of delegates to 4361 and thus the target number to 2180.
So far -
Obama 1500 pledged, 205 super, 1705 total
Clinton 1393.5 pledged, 244 super, 1637.5 total
After all elections, before remaining Superdelegates -
Obama 1992
Clinton 1949.5
After Superdelegates -
Obama 2147
Clinton 2143
So, seating the delegates from Florida and Michigan would not necessarily remove the problem of no candidate hitting the target number for a majority. There could easily be a contested race at the convention anyway.
Scenario 2: Florida and Michigan revote, and are seated at the convention. In this revote, I assumed that Clinton would win both states, Florida 55% and Michigan 60%. Under that assumption, Obama still picked up more delegates from these states and closed the gap percentage-wise.
After all elections, before remianing Superdelegates -
Obama 2013
Clinton 1967
After Superdelegates -
Obama 2168
Clinton 2158
So even in the revote situation, unless things change in those states, it may be that neither candidate can get to the "finish line."
Scenario 3: Florida and Michigan are not seated at all. This is certainly not a desirable situation, but I included it in case they can't figure something out. I read somewhere that since Florida's Governor is a Republican he flat-out refuses to use money from the State to fund another election. The Michigan folks say that it violates their State Constitution to revote a primary, but that they could do a caucus. What a mess...
After all elections, before remaining Superdelegates -
Obama 1879
Clinton 1788
After Superdelegates
Obama 2034
Clinton 1979
So, believe it or not, if my guesses on the States yet to vote are close to correct, the only way a candidate would get a majority is for Michigan and Florida to be denied seats.
In Summary: Unless Clinton surprises and wins some states Obama should, or really cleans up in the states she should win, Obama's lead should hold up, but only barely. I think my estimates were on the optimistic side if one is a Clinton supporter, as well. The biggest hole I can punch in my own argument (apart from the obvious fact that I don't really know how states will vote) is that there may be reason to believe that the Superdelegates would not continue to support Clinton at the same rate if Obama had the 50-100 delegate lead I'm projecting efore they cast their votes. It seems like the talking heads who are saying that no one can reach the finish line without Michigan or Florida are ignoring the fact that the target number gets higher when those states are counted.
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