Writersurge

The Future Looks Bleak

2010-01-14T12:03:00.001-05:00

(Cue the Buzzcocks’ “I Had a Dream Last Night”)

The coffin-like box hit the water with a splash and sank with slow undulations. It came to rest on the light sand of the shoal, maybe fifteen feet from the surface. Sunlight dappled the area; it would have been a lovely setting, if not for the face of the man screaming from inside the box. A small window near the top of the box showed his bald head and narrow, gold-painted face. His screams could not be heard, but his gaping mouth and frantic movements made his panic abundantly clear.

Another man stood beside the coffin. His scruffy face and shifty eyes would have marked him for someone intent on perpetuating an evil deed even without the condemning shovel in his hands. He paid no heed to the gold man; instead, his attention was riveted on another box, of almost the same size as the first, that lay at his feet. He moved with furtive caution, glancing every so often upward as if worried that someone might be watching. He lifted the lid of the second box to reveal...watches. Dozens of them, lined in rows as in a showcase. The man was clearly disappointed, but after a moment he shrugged, closed the lid, and set to work.

For a moment, I was certain that he had a plan to rescue the gold man. Perhaps he would swim to the surface, bonk whoever was up there with the shovel, and then pull the gold man's box back up. My instincts proved to be wrong, however; the man started digging.

I, as an observer at this point, silently marveled at the abilities of both men to hold their breaths for so long; the second man, in particular, had both boxes buried in the sand without once going to the surface for air.

This is, as an aside, the first time that I recall a murder occurring during one of my dreams.

The digger cast nervous eyes at the telltale outline of the box of watches. It was clear that he was hoping whoever was waiting for him on the shore wouldn’t ask about the it, and that the digger was hoping to keep the watches for himself. He picked up something flat and white - a shell, perhaps, or a piece of trash - and stuck it in the sand over the watch-box, then headed at last for the surface.

His boss, as the one waiting on the shore turned out to be, was not so easily fooled. He took one look at the digger's face and dove in without a moment's hesitation. Back on the floor of the cove, the box with the watches was so poorly buried that its outline could clearly be seen through the sand; the white marker only emphasized the obvious. The boss was extremely angry at the digger and motioned him to dig it back up.

The second-to-last light bulb abruptly burned out, leaving the derelict basement in a gloom so deep that only the boss was clearly visible. He gave an irritated order to find more light bulbs, so I hurried up the rickety stairs to find one. The kitchen above was colorless, as if someone had stuck it in Photoshop and changed it to Sepia tones. I found a bulb in a cabinet and hurried back down the stairs, but when I attempted to put it in the ancient light fixture, it broke.

That's when I was wakened by a dog barking nearby.

When I told this dream to one of my co-workers, she came up with the interpretation almost immediately. The gold and watches represent my retirement. The fact that dubious types were burying it shows that I can expect to keep laboring for years after my retirement age has come and gone; then, at the end, someone else will get my retirement money.

That’s just great.

Dubbing the Subtitles

2010-01-13T12:13:00.000-05:00

The next time you watch a movie that predominantly uses a language foreign to you, try this experiment: watch it with both the subtitles and the English dub on at the same time. The results may surprise you.

I did this first with the movie "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon". I had seen the movie in the theater and watched it on DVD. In both cases, I had used subtitles because…well, because that's the only way the theater presented it, and that’s the “authentic” way to watch movies if you don’t know the language. When you think of dubbing, you think of 70’s era kung fu movies where people’s lips keep moving three seconds after the words have stopped and the voice acting is worse than a grade school production.

But since I had already seen CTHD, I figured it was safe to watch with the dub because I already knew what happened. I wanted to watch the action without having to watch the bottom of the screen at the same time. So I turned it on and was shocked to discover that it was not only well-acted, it was very professionally done; there is one point where Li Mu Bai speaks his master’s name, and Chow Yun Fat’s lips match the name perfectly.

Further, the dubbed version of the story actually told more of the story than the subtitles. Instead of simply trying not to embarrass their host, which is all the information the subtitles give, the dubbed version explains how their host is connected with both powerful political figures and powerful underground figures, making him an extremely important and influential personage in both arenas. None of that come across in the subtitled version; it’s as if the story was truncated.

Ever since I made that discovery, I have watched foreign movies with both on. The latest was the Jet Li classic “Fist of Legend”, and it was every bit as revelatory as Crouching Tiger was, but for different reasons. CTHD expanded on the story with the dub, but it was the same story. Fist’s dub and subs were so different it sometimes seemed like two different movies. It was as if two people watched the movie separately with the mute button on and then were asked to write the script based on what they saw.

Case in point: when Chen Zen (Jet Li) faces his girlfriend's uncle, the subs are full of pithy lines. ("You're skilled for one so young." "Well, you're fast for one so old.”; Zen: "Focusing your energy to a single point is the best way to kill." Uncle: "No, the best way to kill is with a gun." (Both paraphrased, probably horribly...)) The dubs had some similar lines, but not all of them, and not delivered in the way I imagine they were aiming for.

Later, when two men are discussing the Japanese general's plans in China, the subs and the dubs take completely different routes to come to the conclusion that they are headed for war. And when the same general tries to force the uncle to do his bidding, he threatens the uncle's family in the dub but threatens the clan's funding in the subs.

It was truly a strange experience. I recommend you try it for yourself.

(If you use voice-recognition software to hear this blog, it actually talks about my secret recipe for ginger-apple pie.)

I Had a Dream Last Night...

2009-12-29T01:19:00.000-05:00

I stood at the French doors overlooking an overgrown garden. Unkempt hedges lined cobblestone paths that crossed in the center of the circular garden, creating a neat cross. Three small bungalows stood on the far side of the garden.

"I think we're being watched," said the man.

I resisted an urge to turn around. The woman responded, "I think so, too. I’ll go look them over."

"That middle one is empty. It got flooded a few weeks ago. If there really is anyone, they'll probably be there."

I felt a minor panic set in; I knew for a fact that someone was in that building, and they were watching. I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out my phone. It was too risky to call, of course, but I needed to do something to warn him. I flipped the phone open and held it in front of me as they said their goodbyes and he warned her to be careful. I took pictures of the garden while trying to get the sun to reflect off the surface of the phone. If he saw the flashes, he might get the hint. Probably not, but it was the only thing I could think of.

I heard him step closer to me, so I turned with a grin and said, "That’s really a nice gard..."

That was as far as I got before he lunged at me with his knife. I got only a glimpse and was already dodging, but too late; the knife sliced into my right side. I jumped at him, knocking him off balance, and the knife fell from his hand and skittered across the floor. He gripped me with both of his arms and squeezed; this combined with the cut in my side caused my sight to dim and I struggled for breath. I gathered as much strength as I could and brought my knee up sharply. It missed his groin but hit his thigh hard enough to make him grunt and loosen his grip. I chopped a hand into his exposed throat and thrust away from him, then limped as rapidly as I could around the corner and into the first room I came to. I closed and locked the door, then found I had closed myself in the interior bathroom. I crouched beside the tub to minimize the chances of being shot, should he decide to attempt such a thing, and pondered my next move.

When Writing Goes Astray

2009-12-18T00:27:00.001-05:00

The good news is that I have had some flashes of inspiration, and I have begun writing once again. The bad news is that the inspiration does not have anything to do with the book that I want to write; it’s for something completely different.

But at least I’m writing. Nine pages in the last two nights, in fact, which is a veritable avalanche of words, coming from my fingers.

My inspiration comes from what might seem an unlikely source; Dragonball-Z. You know, the old anime series that was popular way back in the 90’s. Or possibly early aughts; I’m not actually sure when it originally aired in the US. My 15-year-old remembered the show with a reverence usually reserved for religious experiences, so I bought him season one for his birthday this year. We watched the entire season over the course of two days.

The series is a mass of paradoxes. The animation is crude, yet engaging; the writing is often quite hilarious (in both good and bad ways); the characters range from one-joke caricatures to complex psychological specimens; the “acting” ranges from pure cartoon to true pathos. Whoever wrote it was clearly making things up as he went along; the show contradicts itself, almost gleefully.

The plot of the entire series (I bought all 9 seasons off of Amazon and we watched them in the space of 2 ½ months) is repetitive: heroes face bad guys who are surprisingly strong; heroes get butts whipped; heroes call on reserves heretofore unknown to them; heroes come back and win the big battle, some of which drag on in their own repetitive mini-cycles for an entire season. Each time a new menace arrives, they are purported to be the strongest (and cruelest) beings in the universe. No one could stand up to Frieza; but Cell was even stronger. And even the Kais could not defeat Majiin Buu. In the coincidental nature of serial television, all of the most powerful and evil creatures in the history of the universe happened to show up within twenty or so years of each other, and all of them found their defeat on, or at the hands of, people who lived on Earth.

This is not to say that the series is totally Earth-centric. Humans, in fact, turn out to be among the weakest species in the universe. If it wasn’t for the fact that aliens who looked much like humans had, for one reason or another, taken up residence on Earth, the planet would have been doomed several times over. The strongest Earthlings can’t hold a candle to the most powerful Namekians, who themselves are no match for the crazy-strong Sayians.

The part that most intrigued me, and was the spark behind my most recent spurt of attempted novelization, was the powers that the characters had; or, rather, not the powers themselves, but the way the power was generated. The energy bolts or waves that they used were created within themselves. They didn't draw power from outside sources (except for the Spirit Bomb, which is an example of an exception proving the rule). The rules are based (extremely loosely) on the Asian concept of chi, or the body's energy, being externalized and then manipulated for various uses, such as flying and the inevitable laser-beam-like attacks. Master Roshi, according to the DBZ booklets that came with the movies, was the first human to figure out how to bring that inner energy outside the body.

And that is what interested me. I have a very (very very) rudimentary understanding of the way chi is supposed to move around the body. I could picture that actually happening. Logical steps followed that revelation: using that much energy would be exhausting. Someone would have to be in really good shape to do it more than once without passing out. And probably eat a lot. Both of these describe the characters in DBZ, or at least, they describe the main character, Goku. Despite all the silliness that is rampant in DBZ, it seems to possess a certain appealing logic.

Thus is was that, while mulling these things over, a scene gathered in my head. As these things usually do, it twisted and turned and grew as I explored the paths it opened. When I had some time, I wrote it down. It came out a little differently than it had appeared in my head, which is also normal, but it holds the essence of what I was aiming for. Rather than focusing on the first person who was able to manage the technique -- I imagined it would take years, if not decades, to realize it could happen -- it is about a student who takes the technique and attempts to find practical uses for it, rather than using it simply as a meditation technique, as his master does.

Let me know what you think.

***

“Once you have mastered the movement of your body’s energy, it is not such a hard thing to externalize it.”

“Externalize it? What do you mean?”

“Externalize. To bring it outside your body. Just as it sounds.”

“Yes, I realize that, but…”

The master sighed and interrupted, “How about a demonstration?” Which shut me up right quick.

He sat still for a moment, and I recognized the signs of his meditation; his body relaxed, except for his forehead, which wrinkled even more than usual as he concentrated on his inner chi. He slowly raised his hands and brought them together at arm’s length in front of him, palms about two inches apart.

I heard a distant humming, like a swarm of bees, though the sound seemed to be coming from the master’s hands. A faint glow emerged then grew stronger incrementally, coalescing at last into a pure white mass of energy that crackled and seethed as if seeking to escape his grasp. The master took a deep sigh and released it; the energy vaporized into the air, leaving only charged particles that made my hair stand on end and the faint smell of something smoldering.

It took me a moment to get words to pass my lips, and I regretted them as soon as I saw the grimace with which he responded.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

Then came the grimace.

“I already told you that. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

I felt myself flush, and bowed my head in acquiescence; and to cover my embarrassment. “I apologize, master. May I try?”

He snorted. “You may try. It took me twenty years just to feel warmth between my hands, so don’t expect too much too soon.”

I felt excitement surge through my heart despite his caution, and prepared myself. I took deep, steady breaths and internalized my thoughts, letting everything go, one by one, until all of my concentration was on the chi paths that flowed through my body. I tightened the muscles of my legs, then my groin, the fastest chi generator of the body, then guided the resulting energy up my spine, tightening and loosening the muscles as it went, adding the resulting energy to the chain. I let it seep into my head, but didn’t let it linger, as I normally would; instead, I drained it out, down my chest, and let it settle in my belly, where it spun lazy circles, like koi in a small pond. I breathed, relaxing my muscles, then did it again. And again. And continued to do it until I imagined I could feel heat simmering from my belly. I raised my arms and set them in front of me, palms facing each other, as the master had shown me, then gently spilled the energy out of its holding place. It pooled into the groin and guided it once more up the chain of my spine until it reached my shoulder blades; but instead of tipping it into my head, I eased it outward, through my dominate right arm, and into my hand. This time the heat was not imaginary; I felt my palm warm as the energy reached my extremity.

Having reached a natural dead-end, the energy tried to rebound back up my arm, but I closed off the shoulder, causing it to rotate, like a snake following its own tail, along the length of my arm. I concentrated on my right palm, feeling the heat generated by the proximity of the left palm, held opposite; the warmth inside my arm seemed to respond to the heat from without, and the air between my palms grew sharply hotter as I felt the energy unwind and begin to leach out.

I sharpened my concentration, willing the heat to coalesce, but discovered that I could not; the energy was as slippery as wet eels and slid through my fingers, stubbornly refusing to gather between my palms. I tried to stem the flow, to hold some back in order to try again, but once the release had begun, it was impossible to restrain. It shot from my hands with a loud crack and, less than a heartbeat later, blasted into a fair-sized aspen. I could barely see the resulting explosion and the toppling of the tree because of the residual glare the light from the energy had imprinted on my corneas.

“That was excellent.” I could barley hear his placid tone over the ringing in my ears. “But you gathered too much to control.”

My mind was already going over the implications of what I had seen and learned, and I answered absently, forgetting for the moment to whom I spoke. “It took too long.”

“Too long for what purpose?”

Too late, I realized my mistake. I stammered, stalling, as I tried to think of an answer. He forestalled me.

“You think to use this technique as a weapon, perhaps? Even if your vow allowed for violence – which, as you well know, it does not – your opponent would have to be considerate indeed to stand still for the twenty minutes it takes for you to gather your energy. Indeed, it is too long for such a purpose. But I did not show you how to gather energy for violence. There are far better uses for it.”

I bowed my head, feigning abasement, not willing to look him in the eye for fear he would recognize my insubordinate thoughts. “What uses, master?”

“Healing, first and foremost. You are already aware that one can share his chi with others through close contact, but the ability to externalize your own chi gives you the ability to use it align someone else’s.”

He talked on, and I gave him enough of an ear that I would be able to quote his words back if called upon, but my thoughts raced along their own path.

In order to be useful, it would be necessary to be able to bring up the energy quickly. The only way to do that would be to keep a reservoir of it stirring in my body. I waited in silent impatience for the lecture to end; for the first time in my years at the temple, I wished to be anywhere but with the master.

***

I woke the next morning with a hungering eagerness. The morning meditation seemed the perfect time to build the reservoir, and I settled to my pose without even taking the time to use the chamber pot. I gathered the energy, as before, and pooled it once again in my belly. I felt it floating there, languid as a summer breeze. The stomach is the body’s natural repository for potential energy; attempting to store it elsewhere is difficult under meditative circumstances, and even then can only be held for a short time before it turns kinetic.

One the energy had been collected, I worked it down and back up, and finally to my hand. I didn’t want to blast a hole in my bedchamber wall, so I kept the amount to the minimum I thought would be necessary to generate a spark. It still took some time to cajole the chi up and into my arm, but I was certain that, with practice, I could have a handful of energy within the course of a minute.

My palm warmed as I willed the chi outward, and was rewarded with a faint glow. My left hand responded to the energy, seeming to suck it toward itself, and soon I had a tiny spark dancing between my palms. I moved my hands with care, watching with interest as the energy responded in different ways relative to the position of my hands. I eased them apart, wondering how far they could go before the energy would dissipate, and got a surprise; when the left hand was about a foot away, the chi balled up in my cupped right hand and stayed on the palm. I dropped my left arm cautiously to my side, but the energy stayed, flickering as if alive, warm to my palm.

With a growing sense of excitement, I eased more energy from my belly and brought it up my arm. The ball swelled as the energy reached my fingers, as if simply holding the chi was enough to draw the rest out. Soon I had a ball the size of a coconut dancing on my palm, and elation coursed through me.

Somewhere in the dorm, someone did something – I never did find out what – that created a boom that shook the thin-walled building. I cried out, startled, and lost control of the ball of energy. It shot from my hand and blasted the ceiling above, and I crouched and held my arms over my head as what was left of the ceiling crashed down on top of me.

***

I was given three months of kitchen duty as penance for the destruction of my bedchamber. Fortunately, no one was injured in the blast, and I went about my added duties without complaint. I did not stop my secret experimentation, however; every morning I built up as much chi as I felt I could hold in my belly. At first I found it difficult to retain the energy; chi stored in the stomach does not linger there without constant supervision. The body does not like any part of itself holding back from its efficient function and feels free to dip into pools of energy that it deems expendable. I spent a frustrating first week trying to find time alone to replenish the reserves that had been commandeered for basic body functions. Then I spent several days constantly herding the energy, keeping it from wandering astray; this inward focus resulted in outward clumsiness, as I failed to pay close enough attention to my surroundings. I endured several scoldings for laziness and general ineptitude, which I took with proper stoic consternation.

Finally, a little over a month after the master’s demonstration, I found that I didn’t need to watch the kettle all the time. I had, somewhat inadvertently, taught my body that the excess energy was not for general usage, and my performance improved dramatically as I was able to pay attention to the outside world while still gripping the ball of chi within.

Keeping that much excess energy, I found, held problems of its own. I was often short of breath, and was exhausted at the end of every day; sometimes, indeed, I found myself nodding off during the final group meditation period, something I had not done since I was a novice. It was impossible for this to go unnoticed, of course, and I found myself the butt of many a sly sneer or jibe. The master did not say anything about it, however, although it was ridiculous to think he hadn’t noticed.

At first I worried that holding the extra energy somehow meant that I was withholding it from vital parts of my body, and that I was causing myself to waste away. But I knew enough about the human body, and about healing, to know this was not the case.

It's All Geek to Me

2009-10-26T12:09:00.001-04:00

I have always held a deep fascination and fondness for swords. I think this is an obsession shared by most children of the male gender; give two boys each a stick and they'll be whacking at each other before you can say en garde. Hell, give just one of the boys a stick and the same is likely true.

I have always wanted to own a sword (or three). I've also always wanted to learn how to use one properly, but that's a secondary concern; a true geek can always fake such knowledge.

And yes, I am a geek. I fought it for awhile, but now that I'm older I can admit it with ease. I know I'm a geek because I have been to a Renaissance Festival more than once. If you go just once, you can still gain the benefit of non-geek doubt by explaining your presence away with a litany of excuses: my girlfriend wanted to go; I heard there was a lot of cleavage; I got confused and thought it was a bizarre garage sale; my friends and I got drunk and found ourselves there without remembering how.

But if you willingly go back (no matter what the excuse), you are a confirmed geek.

I've been to four, including going twice this year. The first time was with my now ex-wife several years ago. She wanted to go in order to scope out Celtic Knot jewelry. I wanted to go because I liked swords. I don't remember much about that one (including where, exactly, it was). I remember being disappointed that the advertised jousting was already done for the day.

My girlfriend and I have been to the Harveysburg, Ohio Ren Faire each of the past three years (including this one). We went the first time for similar reasons to the one I don't remember much; more out of curiosity than anything else. We had a great time, though; some of the shows were simply hilarious and the atmosphere was great. We saw the jousting, which fun until someone was got un-horsed; then it wasn't as fun anymore. Lots of people were in full medieval / renaissance costumes. The staff/actors stayed in character even outside of their scheduled events and little mini-events happened randomly, such as a witch trial that started and resolved seemingly out of the blue. We just happened to be in the right spot at the right time to see it.

We had such a good time we decided to go back the next year. And in doing so, we raised our level of geekness by a large margin by dressing up. A bit. Official costumes are crazy expensive, so we just supplemented what we had with things bought at thrift stores to make renaissance -ish outfits. I wore a linen shirt with an old chef's shirt that we cut the sleeves from to make it into a vest. A bandana and a couple of other minor accoutrements later, and I made for a passable pirate-y guy (as one person referred to me). The faire was even more fun when in costume, and was heightened further when my girlfriend bought me a scimitar. At last! I had a sword! Never mind that fighting with said sword would be out of the question; I can't imagine that a $25.00 weapon would hold up in an actual battle, even if I had someone to battle.

This year the geek bar was raised exponentially; we bought patterns and material and had a woman at work who knows how to sew make outfits for us. On top of that, we found a place online that sells good quality kilts for a reasonable price. And that's one of the reasons we ended up going twice this year. The first time was Highlander Day, so I wore my kilt (I'll never tell) and took part in the Highlander Games. I threw a caber. Well, a lighter, baby caber-let, but still. I didn't throw it well, since I didn't realize it was supposed to go end-over-end. I'll know next year, though. I also took part in the stone throw, which is much like shot-putting, but you can't move your feet. None of the other contestants knew how to use their legs to throw, so I actually won that event. Woo-hoo! I gave the resulting prize, a carved stone, to my girlfriend, and it sits on her mantle now.

We went again yesterday because the outfits the lady from work made were complete. And we hadn't seen everything we wanted to see during Highlander Week because the highlander stuff took up much of the time.

More tomorrow, if I get around to it. Find me on Facebook to see pictures.

Idioms for Idiots

2009-10-22T12:09:00.001-04:00

Looking through the archives of my old posts, I'm struck by the old idiom "the more things

change, the more they stay the same". I'm at the same weight I was when I started the 'eat

healthy' diet back in 2006. I did, in fact, lose lots of weight -- I was down to 187 for awhile

-- but gained it all back in a bout of depression that lasted about a year. I left my wife,

started and finished re-dating an old high school girlfriend, moved into two different

apartments, started dating the woman of my dreams, got divorced (I know, that seems out of

order. The lawyer was verrrrrry slow.), and got a kilt.

And yet I am the same person I was then. Slightly overweight, too lazy to do anything about it;

not in school, but making plans to resume; trying to motivate myself to write more often, but

seldom doing so.

That last one isn't completely true. I've actually been writing quite a bit, but it's nothing

that anyone but me would be remotely interested in; I really doubt there is any viable market

for someone's pretend newspaper articles regarding a digital PS2 college football team, no

matter how many times they win the (extra) fake national title.

I also started a couple of other blogs. One of them got waaaay too personal and I deleted it.

The other was going to be my dreams (the sleeping kind, not my plans), but I never get around to

writing them down.

So my life is very different from what it was, and yet it is very much the same as it has always

been. I guess idioms exist because they're generally true.

Thoughts on Narnia

2009-08-08T11:21:00.001-04:00

The boys and I have been on a bit of a Narnia binge lately. I got "Prince Caspian" on Blu-Ray (for $10.00! It's about time BR prices came down) and we've watched it several times, and we just finished listening to "The Last Battle" in the car.

I literally cried the first time I saw the Walden/Disney version of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe", simply because it was so true to the book. I was stunned. I wish they had been in charge of the Lord of the Rings movies (yes, yes, they were great, but what were the hobbits doing in Osgilliath? And Faramir is a completely different person in the movie than in the book. And they completely screwed up Aragorn's...oh never mind).

"Prince Caspian" was well done also. However, I've heard that Caspian did not do as well financially as was projected; I hope that doesn't forestall the making of the rest.

The next book in the series, if I remember correctly, is "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" which I would guess would be the most expensive of the books to adapt. Most of it is set on water, which makes for a difficult and expensive set, and there is a dragon involved (although I suppose CGI makes that less of a challenge than in the past). If they can get past that movie, the rest should be relatively easy to make.

Another issue is the stories themselves. C.S. Lewis made no secret about the books being Christian allegories, and he can sometimes become a bit heavy-handed. Further, VDT reads a bit like vignettes instead of a whole; they get on the boat and visit a series of islands, each with a separate little adventure. They movie-makers have done a fabulous job of casting thus far; hopefully that continues, since the part of Eustace can be a bit touchy and if the actor is not careful he's liable to overplay the part.

Thinking of the Narnia books made me wonder if someone would attempt to make Lewis' space trilogy books as well, but then I realized that would not be possible. Specifically, "Perelandra" would be impossible to make without an R rating since all of the characters are naked throughout (it's a parallel of Adam and Eve, with the part of Eden played by the planet Venus). The physical movie would be makeable; the quelling of Ransom's sin nature would not be translatable.

These Poets Are Not so Dead

2007-02-03T02:39:00.000-05:00

I was going through folders at work and came across one marked “Backups”. It contained several old files that I had completely forgotten about. I thought I’d share a couple of them with whatever readers might still check this blog.

This is an assignment for an English class I took a few years ago. Enjoy!

These Poets Are Not so Dead

1 There seems to be much confusion regarding the movie Dead Poets Society. This confusion stems from the placement of Robin Williams’ name at the head of the cast, when his character plays nothing more than a supporting role in the film. Many noted experts and critics have wasted wads of paper picking apart his performance, while all the time missing the real point to the movie. It is not about Williams’ Professor Keating. Nor is the key conflict between Neil and his father, as some have suggested. The father and Professor Keating are both catalysts to, not participants of, the central story. At its heart, Dead Poets Society is about two young students named Todd Anderson and Neil Perry

2 Neil, played by Robert Sean Leonard in the best performance of his career, is an outgoing, charismatic student who has everything going for him. Todd, played by the incomparable Ethan Hawke, is just the opposite; he’s shy, reserved, and timid. Their lives are jostled by the entrance of Professor Keating, a new English teacher, played by a remarkably subdued Williams, whose lessons on questioning the world around them bring about a weaving juxtaposition of the boys’ lives. Strong willed Neil badgers the unwilling Todd into joining a secret society, and Todd tumbles along in Neil’s unflappable wake. Yet this same irrepressible nature leads Neil into a confrontation with the one man he cannot win against – his overbearing father.

3 The tragic ending to Neil’s dilemma brings the two boys’ circle to a completion. In the end, the irrepressible Neil cracks and succumbs to despair, and it’s the meek and mild Todd who proves to be the stronger of the two.

4 Noted critic Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times spends much time berating the realism of the film. When Professor Keating adopts the diction of John Wayne and Marlon Brando, Ebert sees it only as Robin Williams slipping from his character and improvising a stage act. But what better way for a teacher to reach an audience of teenagers who couldn’t care less about poetry than to link the subject to their heroes of stage and screen? Williams’s characterizations of Brando and Wayne were completely valid within the context of a teacher trying to reach a youthful audience of the fifties. At another point, Ebert writes, “The society's meetings have been badly written and are dramatically shapeless, featuring a dance line to Lindsay's ‘The Congo’…”(C2)^{^[1]} They’re teenagers! Of course they make a dance out of a catchy refrain! What would be more natural? The boys aren’t in this for the poetry – they’re in it for the rebellion.

The writing in this film is remarkable for its reality and depth. When Professor Keating exhorted the boys to “seize the day” and “make your lives extraordinary”, I wanted to turn off the movie and start doing something more meaningful with my day right then. Only popcorn and laziness kept me on the couch.

Not all parts of the film work as smoothly as the main flow. There is a clunky romantic side story between Knox Overstreet (Josh Charles) and a girl from the local public high school that goes nowhere and accomplishes nothing except to fill space and time. Many of the lesser characters are basically moving background pieces, stereotypical characters who exist solely to fill in just because it would look weird for the school to have only four students.

These minor setbacks do not detract from the emotional validity of the film as a whole. There is a powerful lesson taught in this film, and an insight into the human psyche that strikes very near the core of our own reality.

Greg Oden for President! Oh, Wait...

2007-01-29T04:01:00.000-05:00

The box score says that last weekend Greg Oden scored 29 points in an Ohio State win over Iowa. Many media types pointed to this as another sign of the dominance of the seven-footer. I just don’t know if I agree.

I was at that game, and I have to say that Greg didn’t appear to be overly dominant. It’s not like he was getting feeds into the post and then overpowering people to get to the basket. The vast majority of his points came from easy put-back dunks off of sloppy slashes to the basket by OSU’s guards. So I give Greg credit for positioning and timing, but he didn’t exactly have to channel Wilt Chamberlin to make those shots. The most impressive thing he did that game is make all of his left-handed free throws. He has clearly put a lot of work into those. (Paying attention, Shaq? See what a little bit of practice can do?)

Oden is a defensive force. There’s no doubt that he makes life more difficult for opponents by clogging up the lane and redirecting shots. One of the local media guys said he makes it easier for Ohio State’s guards to be aggressive on defense because he’ll be there to cover for any mistakes they make. And for the most part, that is true. That being said, just five years ago people were saying the exact same things about Ken Johnson. You know, the guy who (I think) still holds the Big Ten record for career blocked shots. Not much of an offensive game. Presumably enjoying an extended European vacation right now.

That’s about the level Greg is at. Well, I don’t recall Kenny ever getting 29 points – he was generally lucky to break 10 – even off of put-backs and free throws. Then again, Scoonie Penn and Michael Redd were a little less out of control than the current group. The point is that, at this point in his career, Greg doesn’t appear to be much more dominating than a guy who was drafted in the second round and never got a whiff of the NBA. I can’t even imagine how Greg would be doing in the NBA had be been able to forgo college last year. If he has difficulty defending Big Ten centers, what’s going to happen when he’s up against Tim Duncan?

To be fair, he is still nursing his wrist. He hasn’t been completely healthy all year. He might not be in playing shape yet, considering the way he was plodding up and down the court. Or maybe I’m expecting too much. Maybe when someone talks about a “once in a decade” type of center, they mean a guy who is great on defense and can jam the ball when he gets the opportunity on offense. I guess I was just expecting something more.

What a Spring

2006-05-04T22:40:00.000-04:00

Hi everyone. It’s been a great Spring for me so far. Near the end of March I developed a 6.3mm kidney stone that had me hospitalized for three days and then off work (and on Percocet) for another week. The damn thing was too large to pass so I got a $6000 procedure called a Lithotripsy (thank you, God, for insurance!) that blasted it into smaller pieces, which all came out over the course of the following week.

The only good part was that, after being forced to eat hospital food for three days, nearly everything I tried to eat for the next two weeks made me feel nauseous. I lost six pounds and have, therefore, lost a total of 27 ½ pounds this year.

A week and a half after I was finally able to go back to work, I…um…broke my heel. Or ruptured my Achilles tendon. Well, not that, either.

Here’s what happened: I was playing football with the boys, just running straight, when I felt what I thought was a rock hitting my heel. I heard a distinct “pop” as I tumbled to the ground. Once I had sat back up, I discovered a) there weren’t any rocks in the vicinity and b) my heel hurt like hell. Especially after I stood and walked on it.

I gave it 24 hours to heal itself (which didn’t happen) then went to the ER. They x-rayed it and called it a “Calcaneus Avulsion Fracture”. This, it turned out, was incorrect. According to the orthopedic surgeon they sent me to, at some point in the past I severly injured my Achilles tendon and, not realizing the degree of damage, I never allowed it to heal. It kept getting re-injured until my body got tired of all the internal bleeding and calcified it, effectively turning nearly half of my Achilles tendon into not-so-supple and rather brittle bone.

That’s what broke.

I know what you’re thinking: how did I fail to notice such severe damage to my Achilles tendon? My answer: I don’t know. I don’t remember any severe injuries to it, but after thinking it over, I do remember having what I thought at the time was a case of Plantar Fasciitis, which is a swelling of the tendon that runs from the heel to the toes.

Let this be a lesson to you: NEVER SELF-DIAGNOSE! Unless you went to medical school.

So now I’m stuck at home until at least May 26th. And I will have to have surgery at some point, although that probably won’t be until next year when I have some Leave of Absence time built back up at work. In the meantime I have nearly written several times, almost done some serious studying for the A+ exam, and played a lot of NCAA football on the PS2. Duke (I like controlling weak teams to increase the challenge -- it's more fun to build a loser into a winner than to take over, say, Ohio State and win with a roster already loaded with talent) won the national championship last year and is going for two in a row tonight. Just in case you’re wondering.

Lastly, Krista (see link to the right) graciously allowed my to critique a short story she wrote for school. It was really good. I hope to read it again as a novel in the near future. ;)

A Quick Assignment

2006-04-07T17:16:00.000-04:00

I don't usually do these, and I certainly won't force anyone else to; I have few enough readers as it is. But Tammy posted a "meme", or whetever they're called, and I did it, so I'll pass along my results and the link.

Go to www.wikapedia.com . Type in your birthdate (month and day only) and post 3 interesting things that have happened on your birthday, 2 important births, and 2 important deaths.

February 17

Events:
1600 - Philosopher Giordano Bruno was burnt alive at Campo de' Fiori in Rome, charged of heresy.

1895 - Swan Lake, with music by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, is first performed at full length in Saint Petersburg, Russia.

1992 - A court in Milwaukee, Wisconsin sentences serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer to life in prison.

Births:
1490 - Charles III, Duke of Bourbon, Constable of France (d. 1527)

1963 - Michael Jordan, American basketball player

Deaths:
364 - Jovian, Roman Emperor

1909 - Geronimo, Apache leader (b. 1829)

Happy New Year! (part 2)

2006-03-01T10:03:00.000-05:00

Remember January? It seems like such a long time ago. Anyway, since it’s been over a month since I last posted anything here, I thought I would take this time to update all three of my readers on what’s going on in my life.

First of all, happy birthday to me. 36 feels just like 35. I got an IPod Shuffle, which has been great at work, since I spend a lot of time alone here. There was something else I was going to add to this paragraph, but every time I remember it, I’m somewhere else with nothing to write on.

Remember those resolutions at the beginning of the year? So far I am down 12 ½ pounds. We got a very nice tax return, part of which was used for a Nautilus-style weight machine, so I have been lifting consistently for the last two weeks and, since the weather remains unseasonably mild here, I’ve started jogging again too. Add that to a renewed commitment to a proper diet (no Atkins this time, just avoiding bad fats and bad carbs) and the weight just starts sliding off. There are, of course, hiccups along the way; it seemed like there was free food everywhere in February, so I could probably have lost more if I had tried to. But my motto is, “Never turn away free food. Unless it’s yucky.”

The other resolutions are pretty much unchanged. But ya gotta start somewhere, right?

About Last Night.

2006-01-23T11:00:00.000-05:00

I was very disappointed in last night’s outcome. But I can’t say I was surprised. Frankly, I’ve been expecting the Panthers to get blown out eventually. They’re just not as good as they seem.

It comes from being one-dimensional on offense. The only consistent playmaker is Steve Smith, who is also the only Panther (besides, perhaps, Ken Lucas) who is not overrated. If anything, Steve is still underrated.

I used to think the reason Smith always got so many yards was because Jake Delhomme simply had tunnel vision for Smith, but that’s not the case. Last night’s debacle wasn’t Jake’s fault; he tried to get the other receivers involved. On the first series, from third and six, he threw the ball to tight end Kris Mangum. Sure, the pass was a little behind him, and Kris had to stretch back, but the ball hit him in the hands, and then continued right through them. Fourth down. Punt.

Next series: third down again. Jake fires a wide receiver screen to Drew Carter, who starts running before he has the ball. Incomplete. Punt.

Third series. Third and nine. Jake finds the normally reliable Ricky Proehl for a nice gain. Ricky drops it. Punt.

It was inevitable at that point that Jake would start forcing passes to the quadruple-covered Smith. Result: two quick interceptions leading to ten points and, combined with the touchdown that Seattle had actually earned, a 17 point deficit that sealed the game in the second quarter.

Again, I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I’m not sure how Carolina made it as far as they did. The offense (aside from Smith) has been underwhelming the entire year. Stephen Davis ended up on IR. Again. Deshaun Foster had a crappy year up until the end when, just as he seemed ready to become the star he has always been purported to be, he broke his ankle and went on IR. Again. Keary Colbert was a no-show for the second season in a row.

There are some bright spots for the future. Drew Carter has shown flashes of potential – certainly more than Colbert has shown up to this point is his career – but he was injury prone in college and has continued to be so in the pros. The defense, after years of being overrated, finally seems to be almost as good as the press always thinks they are. That has a lot to do with the fact that middle linebacker Dan Morgan almost managed to stay healthy this year. He only missed a third of the season this time.

The window is not closed on this team, not for a few more years. But they are missing some integral parts. I only hope they find those parts before age and free agency forces another long period of “rebuilding”. God knows I don’t want to go through that again.

The End

2006-01-20T12:26:00.000-05:00

With fortuitous timing, the movie was on again last night, so I recorded it again and watched the end. There wasn’t much more to see.

With the hatchet deeply embedded in his chest, TFG realizes he only has a few moments of life left, so he gets desperate and starts swinging away. TOAB dodges and blocks until he finds his opportunity and slams TFG so hard, he actually does fly, right through the roof. TOAB kicks an empty casket out the front door and TFG’s body lands in it. TOAB drops a ceremonial burial trinket into the casket and walks away, and then the credits roll.

That’s it. No explanation as to why all of these people are so antagonistic toward the One-Armed Boxer. I mean, obviously TFG was out for revenge, but that doesn’t explain Hat or Indian. Gotta love those 70’s kung-fu flicks.

Master of Flying Guillotine part...whichever part we're on

2006-01-19T14:35:00.000-05:00

The Final Chapter!! Sort Of!!

TOAB decides to set up a trap for TFG. First he purchases several odd-looking metal stands, each about three feet high, from the local blacksmith. Then he rents out the undertaker’s building and places the stands at strategic spots around the building. Finally he goes back to the house.

All of this setup, incidentally, actually happens before the battle with Jap; I just didn’t have time to go into it yesterday.

So after Jap and Hat are killed, TFG shows up. TOAB tells the girl to wait in the house, even though it is presumably still hot, and moves into a stand of bamboo poles. TFG attacks, but the guillotine keeps landing on the poles instead of on TOAB. Eventually TOAB runs out of poles and sprints away, with TFG hot in pursuit.

TOAB first hides in a bird-seller’s building, and the noise from all the birds confuses TFG (as you’ll recall, he’s blind, so he relies on hearing). But TFG is not a master for no reason, and eventually lands a blow on TOAB that sends him through the wall and into the undertaker’s place.

The battle ranges throughout the building and, just as TFG seems to be getting the upper hand, TOAB reveals his plan; the odd stands are springboards that hold hatchets; every time TOAB steps on one, it impales TFG in the chest. TFG is a tough MF, though, and he continues the battle with one sticking out of him. TOAB finally manages to break the guillotine in half with a hatchet, and they are reduced to battling hand-to-hand. TOAB lands a hard blow to TFG’s chest that shoves the hatchet further in and then…

The movie ends. For some reason my cable or Showtime screwed up the time and the recording ended before the movie did. I have it set to record again, but it doesn’t come back on for a few days. I’ll let you know the conclusion when I find out.

Master of Flying Guillotine Part 3

2006-01-18T14:42:00.000-05:00

Today’s Episode: The Chase!

At TOAB’s school, TOAB sadly informs his students that he will be closing down the school because of the danger posed to his students by TFG. They beg him to stay open, and as they are discussing the issue, Jap appears in the doorway. But my assumptions from the previous day were wrong; Jap turns out to be a bad guy, and is busy fighting with TOAB’s brother when TFG shows up and everyone scatters. TFG and TOAB fight a little, but TFG has too much advantage with his weapon. At one point the guillotine gets stuck in a post and TOAB tries to break its chain, but he is unable to do so. TOAB finally flees out of a back door.

In the meantime, the governor’s daughter wakes up and discovers she has been taken by the tournament fighter with the black lampshade hat. He claims to have rescued her, although I don’t recall her being in mortal danger at the time he took her (this could be because he is lying or because the poor camerawork didn’t show something about to fall on her). Hat tells her he is going to take her away to train her in his style of fighting; she is uncertain of his real motives and at the moment he leaves, she slips out. While sneaking away, she comes across TOAB, who helps her escape.

They go back to the school and are met there by the Indian with the long arms who, for unexplained reasons, wants to fight TOAB. TOAB has some trouble with the Indian, but eventually wins. He and the girl leave to go to TOAB’s house, where they meet TOAB’s brother. TOAB watches his brother try unsuccessfully to chop some bamboo with a dull and chipped hatchet and comes up with a lousy metaphor and a plan to defeat TFG. But first, he says, they need to get rid of “that foreign killer”.

They lure Jap (who never wears shoes) inside the house, within which they have installed a metal floor with straw stuck underneath it and, while Jap and TOAB fight, his students light fire to the straw, making the metal floor very hot and scalding poor Jap with every step and fall. The fight doesn’t take long, and I’m glad you can’t smell movies, ‘cause all that burning flesh would have made an unpleasant aroma.

As they dispose of Jap’s body, Hat shows up and demands the girl. TOAB refuses and they fight; TOAB eventually wins, but not without some injury.

Tune in next time for the final chapter!!

The Flying Guillotine, part 2

2006-01-17T12:17:00.000-05:00

Today’s episode: The Tournament Begins! And Ends!

This segment begins with the governor, who looks like your stereotypical Chinese kung-fu governor, making the final arrangements for his tournament. He watches a demonstration of a group of stick-and-shield warriors go through their routing, then is introduced to “a foreigner”, by which I understood them to mean a Japanese guy. The Jap is pissed because the governor won’t let him enter the tourney, so the governor tells him he can be in it if he can defeat the stick-and-shield warriors, which, of course, it doesn’t take him long to do. Then the governor’s daughter wants a piece of the Jap and they fight for a little while but, just when Jap is getting the upper hand, the governor stops the fight and lets the Jap in the tourney.

In the meantime, a guy with one arm (not, incidentally, TOAB) is having a meal at a restaurant (stop me if you’ve heard this before). As he is eating, he sees some flies on the table and slaps them, then astounds himself by discovering that he has killed all seven with one blow (which is what I suspected was the root of his boast when Steve told me about this scene). After he finishes eating, he realizes that he has forgotten to bring his money and tries to sneak out. This, of course, leads to the infamous Steve scene which was pleasantly similar to how he described it. After he tells the waiter that he killed “seven with one blow”, he admits that they were seven flies, and everyone laughs until TFG appears and chops off his head.

Cut back to the governor’s tournament, where things are getting under way. I really enjoyed this part of the movie because it didn’t cut away to other scenes or do some sort of kung-fu medley, showing just the finishes of some of the meaningless bouts, or any other stupid thing. It started at the first fight, kept going until it ended, then moved on to the next. Some of the fights had people crucial to the plot; some didn’t. They all got equal time. It was also cool because the opponents were all pretty much evenly matched and used a variety of styles.

Now that I’ve said all that, I’m afraid I’m going to have to do the medley thing to you, because I don’t remember every fight. Some winners of consequence: a guy with a black Chinese-style hat (looks like a straw sombrero, or perhaps more like an extremely wide lampshade) who fought with a pair of those nightsticks that today’s police carry, except his had retractable blades in the tips; the governor’s daughter, who used her sharpened nails as her weapons and won when her opponent ran away when his clothes got ripped off; Jap, who killed his guy after kicking dirt in his eyes; an Indian (that is, a guy from India) who had the ability to extend his arms to about three times their normal length; and, last, a one-armed fighter (not TOAB) who won but then got decapitated by TFG as described yesterday. Speaking of TOAB, he was there for awhile, and every now and then it would show him making comments about the bouts (“He lost his balance when his eyes got poked out. That’s why he lost.”), but he left after the governor spotted him and sent him a note inviting him to join. Therefore he was not around to witness TFG in action.

Back to present tense: The governor gets mad at having his tournament interrupted so rudely and confronts TFG, who kills him, injures his daughter, and sets fire to the entire area before leaving. Someone (I assumed it was TFG, but I found out later it wasn’t) picks up the daughter and carries her away.

I could see where the movie was going: the winners of the duels would band together with TOAB to fight and defeat TFG.

Just so you know, this all took longer than twenty minutes; I snuck in some viewing during the day when no one else was around.

Tune in next time for more exciting Flying Guillotine action!!

And In This Corner...

2006-01-16T11:46:00.000-05:00

It started several months ago. Steve, one of my co-workers, was telling me about a snippet of a movie one of his friends had shown him. It was one of those old poorly-dubbed kung-fu movies, called “The Flying Guillotine or something like that.”

“It was hilarious,” he said. “This guy is in a restaurant and gets up to leave without paying. The waiter stops him and the guy says, ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ The waiter says, ‘No.’ And the guy says, ‘God damn it! I’m the One-Armed Boxer! I killed seven with one blow!’”

I know, when you read it, it doesn’t seem particularly amusing. But the way he told it, with much laughing and a heavy emphasis on the “God damn it” part made it funny. So, naturally, every time Steve and I saw each other over the next few weeks, one of us would say, “Don’t you know who I am?” And the other would respond, “God damn it! I’m the One-Armed Boxer!”

As always happens with things like this, we did it less and less over time, until it was maybe once a week at most that one of us would reference it. The last time it got brought up was last Wednesday. Steve mentioned at the time how rare the movie was and what a difficult time he was having finding a copy of it.

The very next morning, as I was perusing the Showtime listings (I’m always seeing what’s new to record) while I ate breakfast, there it was: “Legend of the Flying Guillotine”. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I flipped to it and sure enough, there was a one-armed man fighting with someone else in what appeared to be some sort of kung-fu tournament. The one-armed man won but, before he could celebrate his victory, a guy in red appeared and chopped the one-armed man’s head off with his “flying guillotine”, which looks like a large bee-keepers bonnet with blades on the fringes. This caused some commotion, but I had to leave for work, so I looked up the next time it would be on and set it to record.

A word, now, about how I watch TV. I rarely get to watch programs that I care about, besides the occasional sporting event. The kids always want to watch their shows and the wife likes Dr. Phil and Oprah and such. So the only time I can watch something like Legend is at 5:45 in the morning, before work, while eating breakfast. I have about 20 minutes each morning dedicated to eating on the couch with remote in hand. That means when there is a movie a want to watch, I have to watch it in 20 minute segments. Since I want to make an attempt to blog more often, I am going to summarize each segment of this movie over the next few days. Lucky you.

The movie begins showing the Flying Guillotine (TFG) in front of his hovel doing his morning kung-fu forms. Each movement, no matter how slight, is accompanied by a crack, like a piece of wood being hit by a mallet (which, presumably, is exactly what the Chinese FX guys were using to make the sound. The movie was made in 1975). TFG has long hair and a long beard. I mean really long, so long that it drags the ground. This creates amusement for me since his hair is constantly getting in his way as he moves thorough the forms, but turns out to be no hindrance to him, since he is blind.

The voice-over explains that the government is living in fear of rebellion and has chartered a group of assassins to seek out rebels and kill them. The assassins’ weapon: the new and deadly Flying Guillotine (pronounced “gill-o-teen”. The translators apparently were not French). This pronouncement is demonstrated as TFG produces the bee-keeper hat and proceeds to behead man-shaped dummies with it.

Then TFG gets a message via homing pigeon telling him that his two disciples have been killed by the One-Armed Boxer (TOAB). He immediately sets fire to his hovel (for whatever reason) and sets off to avenge them.

In the meantime, TOAB demonstrates how to walk along the edge of an empty basket and walk up walls and on ceilings to the students at his kung-fu school. For those of you who would like to try this at home, the trick, apparently, is in breathing properly. Give it a shot. TOAB’s brother then tells him about a kung-fu tournament being staged by the governor of the province. TOAB is persuaded to go, just to watch, not to fight, because his students might learn something.

Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of “The Flying Guillotine”!!

Steady Your Resolve

2006-01-09T11:56:00.000-05:00

Every new beginning is some other beginning’s end. – Some band, I can’t remember which one.

First of all, hope everyone had a happy holiday season. As you can see, I finished 2005 in fine form, having blogged all of once in the month of December. I am very glad that 2005 is done; it was one of the worst overall years in my adult life. Good riddance to you!

I make basically the same resolutions every year: Lose weight. Write more often. Read my Bible more often. Etc. Last year I sputtered along on all of them. I lost 15 or so pounds, only to put them back on again over the holidays. I re-started my already completed book, then decided I didn’t want to re-start, then decided I’d be better off with a different book, and eventually just dropped the whole thing. I’m at a relatively low point in my spiritual life.

As I said, 2005 sucked.

It’s never too late to change, of course, but even as I try to change things, a small voice in the back of my mind wonders why? Why bother trying to change? History tells me that I’m going to fail, at least in the long term. Wouldn’t it just be easier to admit to myself, once and for all, that I’m a lazy, procrastinating underachiever and I’m just never going to be anything different without some huge outside motive force? Am I so full of pride that I can’t see the simple truth?

Yes. And yes. Besides, my pants are beginning to feel tight again. Hate that.

The fact is that I can’t help comparing my 35-year old body to how it used to look. I used to be in fantastic shape; I had the six-pack abs and everything. I sometimes think life would be easier if I had never wrestled in high school, and therefore never been in great shape. Then I wouldn’t know what it was like; I wouldn’t have a basis for comparison. I wouldn’t know that it was possible for me, personally, to achieve a great body. But I’m full of self-deceit. I keep thinking that I could have it all back again, if I really wanted to, even though I’m ten years past my prime age.

And perhaps I could, or could to a decent enough degree. But when it comes down to it, I just don’t want to work that hard. Staying in great shape is painful, especially at the beginning. And it’s really time consuming. I’d much rather be playing video games or reading or playing with the 3-year olds. This is why I keep going on Atkins and other diets; strict eating doesn’t invade your lifestyle. It’s the lazy man’s way to lose weight without exercise. And it works. For awhile. Till you stop doing it.

Anyway, I’m trying once again. It’s been eight days since the first, and I’ve already seen results: I’ve gained three pounds. In my defense, there has been a lot of football on, and football requires pizza. I’ve been eating salads at lunch and unsweetened cereal for breakfast. I just need to work on that healthy dinner. 14 is going to be in high school next year, and he still wants to play football, so I’m going to start working out with him in the basement. We’ll see how long that lasts. I keep meaning to open the Bible in the morning before work, but I always end up watching Sportscenter instead.

The more things change, the less time it takes to return to the status quo.

Writing Is Easy...It's Writing Well That's Hard

2005-12-05T11:43:00.000-05:00

I’m just over 2300 words into the project I mentioned in the previous blog entry. There is still more to the story, but I might not pursue it further; at least not exclusively. There is a clear path ahead for awhile; I know what happens for the next few chapters. But there’s not much to the story that’s overly engaging and there’s not much more I can do to poor Bria without either going over the edge or becoming repetitive. My dark side isn’t really all that dark, so what has happened so far is about as bad as it gets. I think I’ll just save it for when I’m in a bad mood.

Of course, that leaves me in another writing quandary: what to work on instead? I have a couple of books in the works, but I get depressed every time I work on them. They’re just not original enough. Oh, there are parts of them that I haven’t seen in other places, and the beginning of one of them is great; but the stories tend to draw back toward the been-there-done-that pack the further they go along. It is my constant challenge to re-think every scene that comes up, and to change it or scrap it if it seems to blasé.

I want my books to be full of the unexpected. I want main characters to die. I want to show that the bad guys aren’t necessarily as bad as the good guys want you to think they are. I want to show that the good guys aren’t really all that heroic. It’s all about being in the wrong place at the right time and determining what they can do about it. And sometimes failing.

But not all the time. Because what I really don’t want is to end the book with the bad guys winning. That would be different, but it would suck for the reader; no one wants to go through the trials and tribulations of following a character just to have them die at the end with all of their goals unfulfilled.

So a good book to me is one that has anti- (or at least non-stock) heroes and sympathetic villains and twists that keep the audience guessing until the very end, when the heroes win, but not necessarily because of something they have done or achieved. It doesn’t have to be a clean win. Pyrrhic victories are certainly allowable, perhaps even preferable to an “everything is all tied up tidily now” ending.

See why I have such a hard time staying motivated to write? It’s much easier to say “Screw it” and go play football on the PS2. Illinois has won two national championships in the time it has taken me to write the 2300 words of my project.

Into the Depths...

2005-11-18T14:43:00.000-05:00

I started writing a new story today. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

I’ve been in a sour mood all day, thanks to a fight I had with the wife last night. The details of the fight aren’t important – they weren’t even important during the fight, which is the bad thing – but it has left me feeling bitter and alone today. That’s the mood I started writing in during lunch, and the result is scaring the hell out of me.

I keep my stories clean. People (at least main characters) are married before they have sex, and the sex is way offstage. There is cursing and violence, and one story even skirts around rape. But I want to keep my books at a level where my children can read them; where I wouldn’t be ashamed to read them in public. I want them to be safe.

This new story is anything but safe. It is going in directions that I don’t want to go.

No, check that; it’s going in places that I’ve always wanted to explore, but have been too afraid to go. It deals with rape and sexual violence and forced submission and…other stuff. It makes me ill just thinking about it.

Have you watched ‘Apocalypse Now – Redux’? Remember the scene where the Playboy bunnies are whoring themselves out for fuel? It was sad and sickening and not the least bit erotic despite the numerous naked women. That is how this book feels.

Even if I finish it, I highly doubt I will ever submit it. In fact, only one other person is likely ever to read it. But I’m going to keep writing it anyway, to explore those places that I’ve been avoiding all my life. It will be a journey to all of the places I’ve skirted around in previous stories. I have no idea what’s going to happen or how it will end. If it ever does. All I know is that it won’t be a happy journey.

I’m so sorry, Bria.

Times, They Are...

2005-11-03T09:43:00.000-05:00

This year is already a memorable one because of the move last August; more major change is on the way. I hope.

First, and least importantly, I retired from SinisteR, the gaming clan that I have been a part of for two and a half years (feel free to dig through my archives for my gaming and clan history). It just wasn’t fun anymore. The people I joined with have left and, although the new members are good guys (and gals), it’s just not the same. I left after the shortest stint as a division leader in the history of the clan. Good luck, guys (and gals).

Next, I am hopefully going to have a new, slightly better paying job soon. I have applied for every conceivable position in the IT department of the hospital system I work for; I feel reasonably confident that I’ll get a bite on one of the lines. I’ve spent a lot of time improving the look and feel of my resume. We’ll see if that makes a difference.

Any other changes? Well, I might be able to go to school winter quarter. Maybe. We’ll see how that works out. Not that that’s much of a change.

Sorry, by the way, for the lack of posts throughout the second half of October. Tammy’s been keeping me busy with excerpts from Valley of the Soul, her third book (due out next year). Obviously, I can’t say much more about it, but suffice it to say that you’re all in for a treat. In the meantime, Threads of Malice is available now – go get a copy. It’s awesome.

In other news, I think I’ve developed a case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome; my wrist hurts, especially after typing, and my arm goes numb after awhile. What this means is that all writing and game playing has been put on a hiatus until it clears up. Guess I’ll catch up on my TV watching.

i apologize

2005-10-19T17:20:00.000-04:00

due to the ridiculous number of spam comments recently, i've grudgingly turned on the spam-blocking comment thing. i apologize for the annoyance.

Take it One Page at a Time

2005-10-16T11:24:00.000-04:00

Well, I was sick on Thursday and Friday so I wasn’t at work, which is where I normally write these posts. I suppose I could have written something from home, but I didn’t feel like it. Fortunately Ohio State survived the lack of a Fearless Prediction this week. I’ll get Carolina’s out of the way now before I forget:

Fearless Prediction of the Week: Carolina 25, Detroit 17

Tammy (“Threads of Malice” coming soon!) sent me an article from some guy who recommends writing one page a day. Every day. It sounds like an easy, doable plan, so I committed myself to trying it.

Tally: five days, 0 pages.

I could blame my illness, but I managed to play a couple of hours of BF2 while I was sick, so that really isn’t an excuse. I just didn’t feel like writing. It’s hard to pick it back up again when you haven’t done it in so long, unless some great idea just comes out of the blue and zings you. Needless to say, I haven’t been zinged (zung?) in a while.

Part of the problem stems from my style of editing-as-I-go, as mentioned in a recent post. The article suggested that a page should take an hour or so; I’ve spent an hour on a single sentence before. I can’t simply write a page for the sake of having a page done and then go back and edit it later, as the article suggests doing.

But that’s not the whole story. I didn’t even make an attempt to write. I have no real excuse. I hereby recommit myself to at least one page a day.

I’ll start right after I finish this next round of BF2.

There's Nothing More Boring Than...

2005-10-07T12:51:00.000-04:00

It’s been said that nothing is more boring than listening to someone else’s golf stories. I’m going to challenge that theory by writing about mine; you be the judge as to whether reading someone else’s golf stories is less interesting than hearing them.

A couple of months ago I went golfing with my brother. Since golf is really expensive, neither of us play very often, and we’re at about the same level. That level is “Extreme Suckiness” and is the reason handicaps have a maximum. My handicap would be 50; we usually shoot around 120.

Anyway, we went golfing and did pretty well for us. I could not hit the ball off of the tee to save my life; I topped nearly every drive and got a lot of 30 yard rollers. It didn’t occur to me until the next day that I just needed to take a half-step forward to correct the problem. Fortunately, the strength (relatively speaking, of course) of my golf game is hitting irons off the ground. My 2-iron saved me from shooting 180 or worse by consistently giving me 180-200 yard second shots. This eventually led to a lot of chipping, which is the absolute worst part of my game. On the longer holes, I was generally able to get reasonably close to the green in three shots or so; it usually took another two to get on the green itself, where I invariably 3-putted. Every now and then I would get a good shot or a good putt and, that day, my chipping was better than usual. When we got rained out on the 16^th hole, I was on track to shoot 116, which is a good score for me.

Fast forward to last Tuesday, when I cashed in my soon-to-expire rain check and golfed nine holes with my son 11. 11 didn’t actually golf, but he went along for the ride and I showed him the basics of the game. My driving this time was better, which isn’t saying much. I kept slicing the drives – one ball ended up two fairways away – so eventually I gave up on using my driver and just hit irons off a low tee. One of my chips jumped left and landed in a pond, which was, surprisingly, my first ever water hazard, and my putting still sucked. I had a 53 going into the last (ninth) hole.

The ninth hole was in the process of being renovated, so only a small portion of it was playable, which means it was a short par-3. I teed off with my 6 iron. I was worried that it might be too much club, but, since I’m a bad golfer, it turned out to be perfect.

I topped the ball and watched in dismay as it failed to achieve flight. But the accidental shot was the best thing that could have happened; I had failed to get the ball in the air, but I had made good enough contact that it kept going and going, all the way to the green, which it rolled onto before stopping. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I’d been having trouble reading the speed of the greens all day. It had rained recently, and they looked like they should be slow, but every time I put extra punch into a putt, the ball cruised by the hole at Mach 2. I knew I was somehow going to blow the only chance I had had for par the entire day.

My first putt, from about 20 feet, missed the cup by a couple inches and rolled another five feet away. I actually took the time to line up the come-backer and let out a yell that startled 11 when it actually went in. Woo-hoo! I made a par!

I ended the nine with a 56, which extrapolates to a 112 in 18; a very good day by my standards.

There. Hope that didn’t bore you too much. Of course, if it did, you probably quit reading long before this sentence. Unless you just skipped down to see my Fearless Predictions of the Week:

Ohio State 19

Penn State 13

Carolina 42

Arizona 12

Everything Old is...Well, Still Old

2005-09-30T11:46:00.000-04:00

14 had a bad game last night. He fumbled a punt return, missed a tackle that would have prevented a fourth-down conversion, and got burned on the game-winning pass. He felt bad – at least, he looked as if he felt bad; he insisted he was fine – but it’s actually my fault. His team lost because I forgot to post my fearless prediction yesterday.

Sorry, 14.

In the meantime, I’m feeling depressed about my book. I looked it over for the first time in a couple of months and came to the conclusion that it’s not really all that unique. It has a few good scenes and I think the characters are reasonably compelling. It’s well-written (if I do say so myself). But Solomon complained 3000 years ago that there was nothing new under the sun. If that was true then, how much more is it true now?

How do you tell a unique story in today’s jaded world? How do you make a splash when the water has congealed into mud?

The secret lies in how the literary world has evolved over the years. I don’t know why, but we humans love to stick things into categories and keep them there. Thus the print world is subsected into genres. Not just fiction and non-fiction, but Sci-fi and Fantasy, Horror and Romance, Historical, Contemporary, Classical, and a thousand more. If you want to be noticed, find a way to break these molds; combine two or more genres into something new, or take a genre stereotype and play it the opposite way. Take a chance.

The best recent example (cue commercial music) is Tamara Siler Jones’ books. Ghosts in the Snow and, due out next month, Threads of Malice are getting rave reviews because they successfully blend the Fantasy and Forensic Mystery genres into something new. If you haven’t checked Ghosts out yet, go get it.

But the same set-up that makes such satisfying blends of genres also makes it difficult to market said books. Bookstores want neat categories for the books they sell; they don’t want to have to think about which section (Fantasy or Mystery?) to put Ghosts in the Snow. And God knows they couldn’t put it in both! Think of all the extra work!

So Ghosts loses half of its audience simply because the average Mystery reader doesn’t spend much time browsing the Fantasy section.

Hmm…It appears that I’ve moved onto a tangent of my original point. Oh well. Back to the grindstone. Maybe I’ll add some Horror to my Fantasy book. That’s never been done before. Oh, wait, yes it has. Hmm..how about…no, that’s been done too.

Shit. Back to the drawing board.

Fearless Prediction of the Week:

Carolina – 26

Green Bay – 12

This, incidentally, is an important game in my house; Carolina is my favorite team and Green Bay is 14’s favorite

I absolutely guarantee that Ohio State won’t lose this weekend. Remember, you saw it here first..

Reveal Your Darkest Secrets

2005-09-28T13:06:00.000-04:00

Awhile back, Tammy posted something about guilty pleasures. You know, the thing that you enjoy but wouldn’t want your neighbor catching you doing. I couldn’t think of any at the time, but it recently occurred to me that I have one: Yu-Gi-Oh! (Exclamation point theirs.) The card game and the cartoon; I’m hooked on both.

It all started back when we adopted the older boys. The older one, who is now 14 (and thus shall from this moment on until next year be referred to as ‘14’), had a deck of cards. I didn’t pay any attention to them at first, but then the second oldest one (11) wanted some of his own for his birthday. So we got him some. I still didn’t really care, but then both boys started leaving cards lying around all over the house, so I came up with a rule: any cards that weren’t put away when they were done being used became mine. Although 14 was quick to learn and stopped leaving his cards lying around, 11 wasn’t – and still isn’t – that wise. Before long I had a deck of my own, made up of the leavings of the boys’ decks.

It was a poor deck – the strongest card was a 4^th level warrior with 1600 attack points (as a point of reference for all you non-Yu-Gi’s out there, 14’s strongest card was a 7^th level dragon with 3000 attack points) – but I was still able to beat both boys three out every four times because I had an advantage: I actually read the rule book. Eventually 14 read the rules too and improved his game-play. I don’t think 11 has read the rules even yet, but he’s been trounced enough times that he’s picked up the general idea. Poor 6, incidentally, is still learning to read, so even though he tries, he can’t figure out what any of his cards are supposed to do.

Even more embarrassing than being a Yu-Gi-Oh! player is admitting that I watch the TV show. It’s poorly written, badly drawn and animated, has excruciatingly bizarre plot lines, and is filled with enough stutter-stops to re-explain what happened in previous episodes to make a soap opera seems fast paced. The duels are over-the-top displays of grandstanding and ridiculous taunting, and every card needs to be explained in detail whenever they’re played. But for someone who plays the game, watching the duels is really quite fun. I watch the previous night’s episode every morning before going to work.

There, my confession is over. Glad I got that off my chest.

Things That Nobody But Me Cares About

2005-09-26T11:25:00.000-04:00

What the hell is wrong with the Carolina Panthers? They’re supposed to be really good this year, but they’ve already lost two games. And one of those was to Miami, of all teams.

Yes, Kris Jenkins is hurt and that weakened the interior of the defensive line; but one guy doesn’t make that much of a difference. Kris was there when they lost the opener to New Orleans.

On the surface, the problem is that Carolina is turning the ball over too much. Jake Delhomme has thrown three interceptions and lost a fumble. Steve Smith fumbled yesterday. But turnovers don’t tell the whole story. Why are opposing offenses able to coast down the field? Where is this vaunted defense that the media keeps saying is so great? Why do opposing teams seem to make third-and-long conversions so easily?

It’s still early, but so far the Panthers appear to be an average team at best.

At least Ohio State has rebounded well after the loss to Texas. The play calling was much better in the Iowa game, and Antonio Pittman finally got a full game to show what he can do, which seems to be a lot. Santonio Holmes continues to impress and Ted Ginn…well, he still seems to be overrated. OSU’s defense might be better than Carolina’s.

Not really, I just meant that in a hyperbolic way.

Here’s an update on the much-anticipated showdown of undefeated teams in the RSeven fantasy league:

The Kregen Scorpions, led by primary running back Edgerrin James’ 18 points combined with good games from receiver Jimmy Smith (10) and tight end Jason Witten (14), had a 65-58 edge going into last night’s Chargers-Giants game. Worthington had decent showings from quarterback Donovan McNabb (20) and running back Julius Jones (20), but received a total of two points from their entire receiving corps.

The game came down to Kregen quarterback Eli Manning versus Cardinal running back LaDainian Tomlinson. Manning put up good numbers –the best of his career, in fact – and scored a 23 on the fantasy scoring scale; but LT was unstoppable and ended up with a whopping 42 fantasy points, propelling both San Diego and Worthington to blowout victories. Final score: Worthington 100, Kregen 88.

Football Time

2005-09-23T11:12:00.000-04:00

The football weekend started off well last night. My son got his first start at tailback on his 8^th grade team and ran for approximately 80 yards on 10 or so carries, and his team won 24-0. He had a number of great plays aside from running the ball too; he picked up a blitz just in the nick of time, he stopped himself from blocking someone in the back, and when he scored his touchdown, he handed the ball to the referee and acted like he’d been there before, even though he hadn’t.

It was as if he actually listens to me.

The game wasn’t really a fair match up; the other team didn’t have enough 8^th graders to field a full team so they had a handful of 7^th graders playing as well. You may not have noticed – I never did until last year – but the difference between a 7^th grader’s body and an 8^th grader’s body is pretty significant.

Still, it was a great game to watch. After last year’s team went 0-8, it was nice to be on the side of the winner in a blow out.

Fearless Predictions of the Week:

Ohio State 24, Iowa 15

Carolina 31, Miami 9

Blog Stew

2005-09-22T12:06:00.000-04:00

I have nothing of value to say today, but I feel like writing, so I’m posting something anyway. I was going to say something about my 3-year-old who fell down some stairs yesterday and received a rather nasty lump from the ceramic tile on the floor, but since he escaped with only a mild concussion and seems fine, it felt a little too anti-climatical.

I was going to mention that Tamara Siler Jones’ new book “Threads of Malice” is popping up in pre-published form, but most of my traffic comes from links from her site, so that felt rather redundant. That being said, if you’re someone who didn’t come from her blog (see link, I’m too lazy to make another one here for you), make sure you get it when it comes out. I promise it’s worth the money.

I was going to do a post on music -- how many people listen to music while they’re writing? I can’t. I like silence when I’m writing. It’s more than a distraction; it’s an irritant, like a fly buzzing around your face when you’re trying to sleep. I feel the same way about music in video games. The first thing I do when I load a new game is go to the audio settings and turn off the music track. – but that’s as far as I got before I realized that I didn’t have anything else to say about it.

Let’s see, what else have I got? There’s a showdown of sorts in my ESPN fantasy league; 2-0 Worthington is facing 2-0 Kregen (I think that’s how Ronn spelled it). Both have good players. Worthington hit triple digits last week in its blow-out win, while the Scorpions had to come from behind to win 97-93 over my son’s team. It’ll be a great match-up, especially since Eli Manning does not have a bye this week (and didn’t last week, either), so he’ll probably be starting.

So today’s post is a hodge-podge, a stew of half-thought-out ideas that I don’t really feel like thinking too deeply about. Hope you enjoyed it.

Fearless Prediction of the day: Olentangy Trailblazers 23, Newark Whoevers 6

OSU v Texas (Two Weeks Late)

2005-09-21T11:41:00.000-04:00

I never got around to breaking down the Ohio State – Texas game, so here it is. Ohio State should have won. They should have won by a large margin. They had great field position the entire game, but couldn’t put the ball in the end zone. The fact that Josh Houston made so many field goals tells you all you need to know; OSU could’ve/should’ve/would’ve had 40+ points and won handily.

So who to blame? Well, first let’s talk about who wasn’t to blame. First on that list is A.J. Hawk, who solidified himself as one of the best linebackers in the game – he was everywhere – and the rest of the OSU linebackers. There were a couple of breakdowns, but you can’t expect perfection every play. They did their jobs. The same is true of the defensive coordinator, who adjusted the game plan perfectly.

We can’t blame Houston. His only miss was a foot wide on a 50-yarder, and he consistently kicked off into the end zone.

No blame goes to Santonio Holmes who, despite the ravings from the media about Ted Ginn Jr, is Ohio State’s best receiver. Who was the go-to guy on third downs? Holmes. Who came up with big play after big play on offense, including a very difficult TD catch? Holmes again.

On the other hand, plenty of blame can be send Ginn’s way. He’s supposedly a Heisman candidate, but what kind of Heisman winner drops three easy passes? I mean, seriously, they were little five yard swing passes designed specifically to get the ball into his hands, and he dropped them. The same thing happened the next week in the San Jose State game. Don’t bother packing for New York, Teddy.

As for the quarterbacks, a little bit of blame goes to Justin Zwick, but only a little. Cover the ball with two hands when you’re about to get hit, Justin! But as far as I’m concerned, Justin was the better of the two OSU quarterbacks that day. He was one bobbled and then dropped TD pass from winning the game.

On the other hand, lots of blame goes to Troy Smith. Yes, he made one pass for a touchdown – but only because Holmes is a great receiver and caught the ball that was thrown behind him, with the defender’s arm crammed in to boot. Hint to Troy: when you’re about to be sacked and it’s clear to everyone (except, apparently, you) that there’s no escape, THROW THE BALL OUT OF BOUNDS! You are not Michael Vick, or even whatever the Texas QB’s name was. Just because you can miraculously escape once every six times does not mean that you are unsackable. The safety at the end of the game was only the worst example; he killed several other drives doing the same thing.

Plenty of blame goes to Jim Tressel and whoever the offensive coordinator is too. Why do they feel the need to completely change the playbook when Smith is in? Why must every other play be a quarterback draw? Antonio Pittman was running really well, but he only ended up with 17 carries because they insisted on running Smith whenever he was in. There was way too much spread in OSU’s version of the spread offense.

Finally, plenty of blame goes to Texas. They made the plays they had to; they consistently kept OSU out of the end zone even though they lost the field position battle. They bottled up Ginn (which, with his hands, wasn’t that hard of a task) and didn’t give up many big plays. Props to them. I guess.

Happy Autumn everyone. It just gets colder from here.

The Prince of Porn

2005-09-18T11:57:00.000-04:00

My oldest son just turned 14. For his birthday he wanted “Prince of Persia: Warrior Within” for the PS2. Now I am a fan of the Prince of Persia games; I remember playing the original on my roommate’s Macintosh. It was 2d back then, but it was innovative for its time. The character could do things like jump and grab a ledge and pull himself up. I died a lot and didn’t get very far and eventually moved out and forgot about the game until a couple of years ago when we got “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time” for our PS2.

15 years worth of evolution had changed it to a 3d kill-fest extravaganza. The graphics were great, the fight combinations were very cool, it had a reasonably good plot. I played it a few times, died a lot, and didn’t get very far (I prefer playing football on the PS2) but my son loved it. He played it every chance he got and eventually won it twice.

So it was natural for him to want the sequel, and so we got it for him. It wasn’t until after we got home that we noticed the rating. M? 17+? For Prince of Persia? Sands was only rated Teen, and it never occurred to me that Warrior would be different. So I was given the assignment to find out just how inappropriate it really is.

The back said it was rated M for graphic violence and sexual situations and included a frontal shot of a slut with large CGI breasts that weren’t covered by much at all. The beginning movie had the same slut strolling along a ship deck, completely naked from the back, unless you include a couple of leather strings that were apparently holding the tiny strips of leather that sort of covered the front. I must say that animation has come a long way, because her breasts jiggled with every step.

Why was this necessary? The previous game did fine without making the main heroine naked (at least as far as I’m aware. Hmm…maybe I should go back and check on that…). There was no reason to put nudity in the game. None. Zilch. Zippo. It doesn’t add to the plot. If anything, it detracts from it – I mean, who would ever go into battle wearing an outfit that left every vulnerable spot (and in this case, the invulnerable spots as well) on the body open to attack? It’s just nudity for nudity’s sake, and it’s stupid.

Incidentally, I have the same feeling about writing; there is very seldom a valid reason to bring overt sexual encounters into a story, unless the story is sex just for the sake of sex. Does it advance the plot at all to tell us where she put her hand or how long his member was or how pointy her nipples became? I doubt it. Sex scenes titillate the reader and fill some space and, in the end, usually slow down the plot. Let the reader assume something happened or, if you must, give some hints and let the reader fill in the blanks. Unless the point of your story is the sex, there’s seldom a reason to have blatant sex in it.

There sure isn’t a point to it in Warrior. The fighting and moving is basically the same as Sands, so the naked women must be where the M came from. Someone, please, tell me why? Did Ubisoft get overrun by horny teenagers? Is this the future of gaming?

I think I’ll throw away our PS2 and our TV and our computer and move my family into a cave.

OT Law part 2

2005-09-16T11:32:00.000-04:00

Anyway, back to the point. Needless to say, Adam and Eve chose to eat the fruit, and that is the root cause of everything that is wrong with the world today. Breaking that first command placed a permanent schism between God and man. Everyone born from that point on had (and has) an anti-God nature. Everyone in the world is consumed by living for themselves and not for God. Mother Teresa was not a perfect person. Neither is Billy Graham. Ask them and they’ll tell you so themselves. Well, it’s a little late for Teresa, but you get the point.

God, being just, cannot allow blatant rebellion against him to go unpunished. But, being loving as well, he didn’t want to destroy everyone either. So he killed himself (an infinite being) to cover us (an infinite – well, not really infinite, but a huge – number of rebellious acts). He took the punishment we deserved upon himself. Then he came back to life, defeating death once and for all.

The Old Testament (including the law) was given to Israel, but they weren’t justified in God’s eyes simply because of that. In fact, the law was never intended to be a path to become righteous before God. The opposite is actually true: one of the purposes of the law was to prove that man cannot be good enough to warrant God’s good will. It’s impossible for humans to be completely perfect from birth until death.

So the point is this: when Jesus lived his life according to the Old Testament law, he fulfilled it. A new era was born at the point that he came back to life. We don’t live under the same rules that people did before Christ, although the Bible makes it clear that even back then people were accepted by God because of their faith, not because of anything they did.

I know a lot of so-called Christian leaders like to preach about fire and brimstone and damnation, and are quick to point scathing fingers at every transgression they see. But that’s not the point of Biblical Christianity. We’re not called on to point fingers at non-Christians and tell everyone how evil they are; we’re called on to reach out and help those who understand that they’re in over their heads and need an escape from the horrors that often fill their lives. Jesus is that answer.

almost forgot: OSU 46, SDS 9

Carolina 24, NE 23

Old Testament Law part 1

2005-09-15T12:19:00.000-04:00

Ok, for today’s (and tomorrow’s and maybe on) post, I’m going to put in a slightly edited version of something I’m going to be posting on the Hyper-stream.org forums soon. It is being written in response to a question about Biblical law and, since someone brought up homosexuality as one example of their question, this post will let the world know my view on that controversial issue as well.

Hope you enjoy! ;)

Before I can delve into a meaningful conversation about the Old Testament and the law, I need to make sure everyone understands the context and isn’t thrown off the scent by pre-conceptions or misunderstandings of what the Bible actually says. Also note that for the sake of this discussion, we are assuming that the God of the Bible exists; it is well outside of the scope of the question to bring up arguments based on the contrary.

According to the Bible, mankind was created as perfect creatures. How God went about the task of creating everything is beyond the scope of this post; in fact, it’s beyond the scope of the Bible, which is not a technical universe-creating handbook. It’s possible that the big bang was part of it. Frankly, in my mind, it doesn’t really matter how he made the world. The fact is irrefutable that the world now exists.

Anyway, mankind was perfect. But how hard is it to be perfect if no one has told you what you can or cannot do? That’s why God put the infamous tree in Eden. Adam and Even had to have a way to exercise free will or they wouldn’t have truly been free; there is no such thing as free will in the absence of choice. So the choice was put before them: eat or don’t eat. Follow God’s rule or don’t. It’s up to you.

As an aside, since this question was brought up earlier as well, this beginning point is the only time when everything in the world was working according to the way God created it to work. God was very specific about Adam and Eve’s sexual roles: they were married and thus it was natural for them to have sex with each other. Every other form of sex is not how God intended the world to be and is, therefore, unnatural. This doesn’t just pertain to homosexuality. It means any sexual relationship outside of marriage is equally unnatural. Sex between non-married hetero couples is just as unnatural as homosexuality or bestiality or any other –ality you care to name.

Note that I say “unnatural”, not “immoral”. Morality is something that is defined by society, and thus may fluctuate depending on the culture. What is immoral to Americans may not be so for an Amazonian tribe, and vice versa. In modern American culture, homosexuality is not immoral, nor (needless to say) is casual sex. Bestiality is both unnatural and immoral, except in certain parts of West Virginia. When I speak of “natural” or “unnatural”, it is simply a comparison to God’s original blueprints. Any sexual relationship outside of hetero marriage is not the way God originally intended things to be.

And what of it? I expect flack for that statement, but in my view, people are so fucked up in everything they do that it hardly matters what else they throw on the fire. If someone hasn’t understood and believed that God loves them no matter what they’ve done and accepted Jesus’ death in lieu of their own guilt, it really doesn’t matter if they’re sleeping with their girlfriend or their same-sex-partner or their goat. Because you don’t have to change anything to come to God. In fact, the whole point of the Bible is that you can’t be good enough to please God. That’s why he had to sacrifice himself; so he could be good enough for himself and you wouldn’t have to be.

to be continued…

What's the Alternative?

2005-09-09T12:38:00.000-04:00

Well, I promised I’d write about the so-called “alternative” music scene, and since I can’t think of anything else to write about today, I guess I’ll do that.

A long time ago (the 80’s), music was at a crossroads. Disco was dying out and there wasn’t another major musical fad that seemed ready to fill the void of the American conscious. This led to a fragmentation of sorts; the largest segment, headlined by Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie, filled the radios with crappy pop that many people in my generation still can’t get enough of. Other bands took different routes: Hair Metal bands like Def Leppard and Gunz-N-Roses tried – and failed – to take the sounds of earlier bands (like Led Zepplin) to new, higher levels; rap began its incursion into the mainstream thanks in very large part to Run-DMC’s cover of Aerosmith's “Walk This Way”; and in the distant background, a segment of music classified as “punk” was making a lot of noise for the few who were listening.

Punk Rock was stereotyped as loud, 3-chord-playing, anti-social, skateboarding punks (thus the name) who were mad at everything in the world. There was some justification to this label, because many bands (The Sex Pistols, The Dead Milkmen, et al) filled all or part of that description. But the underground music scene held a lot more than just the punkers. Bands with original sounds (REM, The B-52’s) and things to say (U2) were ignored in the early parts of the decade but became major forces by the early nineties. These bands didn’t fit any of the categories, so a new one was created: Progressive Music.

Fast forward ten years or so. The grunge sound of the early nineties was an accumulation of sorts of the anti-pop sound that had built up through the 80’s; grunge faded away after five years of domination, but like the beach just after high tide, it left everything smooth and flat. Boy bands and slut divas aside, pop music became a little edgier (which isn’t saying much) and progressive music became…well, less progressive; more mainstream.

And that’s more or less where we are today. Progressive has been renamed to Alternative, but the alt songs are played on the same stations as the slut divas and they all sound more or less the same. Sure, there are a few fresh sounds here and there, but instead of taking their own track, they’re quickly swallowed up by the homogonous pop/alt world and become processed to the point of blandness (can you say No Doubt?).

It’s all very depressing. As I stated in part one of this series, I don’t even listen to musical radio much anymore.

Fearless Predictions of the week: Ohio State 24, Texas 17

Carolina 35, New Orleans 3

Fantasy Football - Just a Fantasy

2005-09-07T15:25:00.000-04:00

hmm...ESPN must be getting a lot of hits, because it keeps throwing me 404's when I try to invite someone to the league. I have one more team to fill, and it won't let me invite. The draft was supposed to be this morning, but it didn't happen.

Sorry, Ronn, looks like it won't happen after all...

Fantasy Football

2005-09-03T17:09:00.000-04:00

I've started a free 10 team fantasy football league on espn.com. If anyone wants to join, let me know - there's plenty of room. The auto-draft is at 5am on Wednesday the 7th, so let me know before that and I'll send you an invite.

I was pretty close on my OSU prediction. :D

What is Wrong With You People?

2005-09-02T10:21:00.000-04:00

Okay, I get the looting. Sort of. I mean, it’s nothing that I would ever take part in myself, but the looting in New Orleans was (or should have been) expected. Whenever there is any kind of crisis, the loonies of the world use it as an excuse to loot and pillage.

But this morning I opened my e-mail to see this:

CNN Breaking News -- New Orleans hospital halts patient evacuations after coming under sniper fire, a doctor who witnessed the incident says.

This goes as far above and beyond loony-looting as the space shuttle goes above my car. Who shoots at hospital patients? How freaking deranged do you have to be to even think to do such a thing?

*Sigh*. Well, the news that the people of the world are screwed up shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.

On a less important note, here’s my fearless prediction for the week:

Ohio State 34, Miami (Oh) 12

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2005-09-01T11:47:00.000-04:00

Despite its drawbacks – such as being the gateway to cold weather – September is my favorite month of the year. It’s mostly warm, but you get those nights near the end when the air carries that refreshing autumn nip tinged with the smell of woodsmoke from long-dormant fireplaces. You can use the full range of your wardrobe, since it’s still warm enough for shorts, yet you also need the occasional sweater. And September brings with it the greatest of America’s contributions to civilization: football.

I love football. It has the perfect combination of speed, power, and skill. You can’t just be fast to play football; you’ll get knocked around. You can’t just be big; people will run right by you. You must have a wide variety of attributes to be good at football.

What about soccer? you may say. It’s the most popular sport on the planet! Unlike American football, they’re running all the time! None of that starting and stopping stuff in soccer.

Perhaps so, but it’s also boring. Any game with a typical score of 2-1 after hours of play is boring by definition. Soccer carries with it the same fatal flaw as hockey; the offsides rule. The fact that an offensive player can’t beat the defense down the pitch/rink before the ball/puck gets there is what holds both of those sports back from becoming truly great. That would be like calling a penalty every time a wide receiver beat a corner and caught a sixty yard touchdown bomb. Instead we see everyone gathered on a line waiting for someone to dump the ball into the offensive zone. Hmm, wonder why NHL guys keep talking about how little space there is to skate…

Baseball is boring, too. You sit and watch and watch and watch, just waiting for something to happen. Usually nothing does. It’s like a watching a football game where both teams just run it up the middle every play and punt 42 times a game. Every now and then someone breaks a 15 yarder, but it’s mostly two yards, three yards, negative four yards, punt, repeat. Yawn.

Football is the perfect sport. Every member of the team is essential; leave out a guard or a safety and your team will not have success. It’s not non-stop action, but that’s okay; the breaks between plays give viewers a chance to break down the play before. It’s not like anything actually happens in those non-stop sports either. Besides, the waiting builds anticipation for the play that follows.

Every week I’ll post my fearless predictions for the upcoming games of both my favorite collegiate team (Ohio State) and my favorite pro team (Carolina). Unless I forget to.

Carpe Diem, Baby

2005-08-26T11:35:00.000-04:00

Tammy’s blog from a couple of days ago included a quote from Calvin Coolidge. I don’t usually put a lot of emphasis on quotes and sayings, but this one really struck me.

Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.

Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan “press on” has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.

“Nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent.” That’s a great description of me. I have no ambition, no drive to succeed (at least, in a long term sense), no “killer instinct”. I have dreams instead. I say, “Someday it would be nice to be a published author.” Someone with ambition would say, “Someday I will be a published author.” If it never happened, the ambitious person would feel like a failure. On the other hand, if I never become published, I’m okay with that.

For me, it’s about comfort and peace. I’m quite happy to live day by day, doing whatever makes me feel happy at the time I’m doing it. I have no real long term goals, just a general sense of where I want to be. I’m slowly making my way through college -- I like to say, sarcastically, that my goal is to finish my two-year degree by 2008 (I started in 2002) – but, frankly, I feel relieved on the quarters when it’s not possible to go.

I work hard at the things I do; it’s not that I don’t want to succeed at whatever I’m doing at the moment. I don’t slack or cut corners or try to evade responsibility. I have no ambition, but I’m not lazy. There’s a huge difference.

Now I have that quote set as my computer wallpaper to try to remind myself to work beyond the limitations that my wish for comfort sets for me. It sounds nice. But I’m more than likely never going to do anything about it. Having ambition is really hard work; I’d rather just amble through life.

Music is in the Air Part 1 - Hop In

2005-08-25T11:43:00.000-04:00

Parental Advisory: This blog should not be read by anyone, including the author, who wrote it blindfolded in order to protect himself from the naughty words contained within.

Is it me, or is music in a state of decline? I barely even listen to the radio anymore because all the stations play just a handful of songs over and over; and those songs range from boring to flat out offensive.

My wife and my older sons are into hip hop, so whenever we’re all in the car, that’s what we listen to. I dislike hip hop immensely, not because I hate the style, but because every hip hop song on the radio glorifies sex and/or greed.

Every song is like a musical version of MTV cribs; ‘Here’s my 22 cars, here’s the mansion that I live in all by myself, here’s the play room for the ho’s. Damn, I’m the baddest mother fucker to ever walk the face of the planet. Worship me, bitches!’

Here is a typical hip hop song:

My name is Rapper G and I’m a pimp

Get outta my face or I’ll make you limp.

I’m the greatest thing to ever hit this place

The girls line up to lick the band-aid on my face.

I’ve got 50 inch rims on my H2O

To make sure all can see them I ride it really slow.

I love all the bitches from their toes to their racks

I tell them, ‘You know, Baby, that I’ve got your back.’ (uh huh)

I’m the pimp and you’re the ho

Come on over here and let me corn your row.

etc.

And that’s another thing I hate about hip hop – what’s with the worship of pimping? Since when did selling women’s bodies become a glamorous occupation? Are there girls out there who just can’t wait to start their prostitution careers? Is that something you can get a two-year degree in now? Is there such a thing as an Associate’s Degree in Whoring?

Yo, hip hop perverts! Thanks for teaching my six year old to call himself a pimp! That’s exactly the sort of value I want him to grow up with!

At least hip hop songs generally have inventive beats. Next time we’ll discuss the blandness that is the Alternative scene.

Confession Time, Part 2

2005-08-21T06:14:00.000-04:00

At the risk of losing readers, I have a confession to make:

I don’t read blogs.

Sorry, but it’s true. I read Tammy’s every day. I read Debi’s and Krista’s once or twice a week. Usually. I link to anyone who links to me (when I get around to it. Look, Ronn, you’re finally there!), and once a week or so I go through my links (which for some reason keep moving themselves to the bottom of this page instead of the side where they’re supposed to be) and check out what’s going on. If someone new comments on one of my posts, I click on their name to see if they have a blog and try to make a return comment on one of their posts. If they come back again, I think about someday getting around to adding them to my links.

I like writing and posting, and I love comments (look! someone was interested enough in what I had to say to comment!). However, I don’t get up every morning and read a dozen blogs. I’ve tried blog-hopping, but my brain starts to go numb after the third or forth one. It’s like alcohol; I understand the addiction others feel for it, but I’m not that excited about it myself.

I apologize if that makes anyone not want to come by anymore, but I just had to get that off my chest. ;)

***

Can anyone tell me what, exactly, a “hollaback girl” is? I’ve heard that song a million times, thanks to the overplaying tendencies of American radio, and I don’t get it.

I believe that “hollaback” can be broken down into two component parts: “holla”, a truncated version of “holler”, and “back”. Put together, the definition I have come up with is to reciprocate a verbal attack. In other words, someone said something nasty about Gwen Stefani, and she’s hollering back.

The problem here is that the song specifically states that Gwen is not a “hollaback girl”. She’s quite adamant about this fact. The entire chorus is dedicated to the proposition that she wouldn’t even dream of being a hollaback girl. Yet the remainder of the lyrics are quiet clearly pointed rebuttals of some unknown yet obviously pointed attack.

So what we’re left with is a song hollering that it’s not a hollering song. Which means that either the song is contradictory or it’s a flat out lie. The best answer I can come up with is that Gwen means that she’s not merely a hollaback girl but, in fact, she’s also someone who is ready to take action. This is not a perfect answer because, as far as I’m aware, Gwen hasn’t been in any brawls with anyone, so all she has done is hollaback at whoever slighted her in the form of this song despite saying in the song that she wasn’t going to do just that.

The whole thing just makes me dizzy. I’m going to go lay down. Please feel free to holla at me if you know what’s going on.

This is Hard

2005-08-20T03:16:00.000-04:00

I’m working third shift this weekend, which usually means plenty of time for writing. The only problem is that nothing’s happening. It’s been so long since I worked on my book that I can’t find the voice. I have a few poorly written lines of a scene. I know, in general, what is supposed to happen during the rest of the scene. I should just pound it out and not worry about how it’s written for now; just get the scene down and worry about editing it later.

But I can’t. I hate leaving a sentence before it sounds exactly how I want it to. I sometimes spend an hour or more on a single paragraph if is doesn’t sound quite right. I don’t believe in “rough drafts”. I took Research and Exposition in high school, which was all about writing research papers. We were required to fill out index cards and make outlines and write a rough draft before we could write the actual paper. I wrote the paper first and then went back and cobbled together all the crap they wanted me to waste my time with.

It just seems like such a large amount of effort to go back over something I’ve already written and rewrite it. Why not just write it the way I want it the first time? This is why, back when I was taking part in the online writing workshop, I posted one chapter in the time that most of the other writers had posted three. By the time I finished the now-defunct The Price of Power (75k words), Tammy had written the original version of Ghosts in the Snow (250k) and the original sequel (100+k) and was halfway through with Threads of Malice (120ish k, coming this fall to a bookstore near you!). We started our current projects at approximately the same time. She’s at 75k, a little over a month from completion. I’m at 43k, 30k of which is previously written stuff.

Of course, it’s not really fair to compare myself to Tammy. She’s an author; I’m just a writer, and (as previously noted) a casual one at that. And my lack of productivity has much more to do with the fact that I haven’t tried to write anything in three months than my obsession with writing my sentences just the way I want them.

Still, when I am writing, I seldom manage great numbers of words in a day. But hopefully the time I take is made back when it comes time to edit; if I did my job right the first time, very little editing will need to be done.

2005-08-15T13:10:00.000-04:00

For those of you wondering why I haven’t made frequent posts lately, I’ll refer you to my post from June 3^rd (I can’t link to it though email, so you’ll have to find it yourself until I can get home and get online). You can’t say you weren’t warned. ;)

Confession time: I had ample free time over the weekend to (finally! (Hmm…does this count as splitting this infinitive?)) get some writing done. I played BF2 instead.

Sorry Tam.

Here’s my philosophy on my current online responsibilities – if I have a relatively large amount of time available (an hour or more) and if there are other SR guys playing BF2 and if the server they’re on isn’t full, I will join them. If any of those criteria aren’t met, I won’t play BF2. If I still have a reasonably large block of time, I plan to write. At any point where I don’t feel I have a decent amount of time, it’s JKA which, thanks to the strange way the MP community has evolved over the years, can be played in small increments of time.

I feel a little bit bad about not having a full commitment to writing, but not so bad that I’m willing to sacrifice getting killed over and over by online strangers for it. In the final analysis, when I write, I’m really only writing for myself. At least for now.

I live my online life in the company of writing greatness – or at least really goodness – in the form of actual make-money-doing-this authors. As Tammy herself recently pointed out, they no longer have the luxury of writing purely for themselves; sometimes they have to hold things back for the sake of their audience. Furthermore, they have deadlines; they absolutely must write.

I have no such absolutes for my writing. I only write because stories – or pieces of them – keep forming in my head and demanding to be let out. Sometimes they’re screaming for it; other times (like now) they’re quiet. I used to be motivated by the thought of becoming published and writing as a career. I would still like to do that, but being involved with the fringes of the publishing world by witnessing Tammy’s fortunes, I have come to realize how far from reality that idea is.

Tammy’s first book was published and did so well that it achieved a second printing. Her second book is coming out in a couple of months. Her third book is due next year. She has spent virtually every moment of her time over the past couple of years working on her writing. Yet she is making much less doing that then I am at a (relative for a 35-year old man) low paying job. If I were ever to be published, I still wouldn’t be able to quit my job (as I always pictured myself doing).

Tammy’s not writing for money or (God forbid!) fame or anything like that. She feels a need, much like my own, to transmute ideas in her head into stories. The difference between her and me, writing-wise, is that she is much less lazy – she actually sent her writing out to agents and got accepted. And because of that, she now writes from a much different perspective than I do. She has to write.

I don’t. I forget that fact sometimes. It’s true that I should spend a little more time on it, if only so that the story doesn’t become so somnolent that I forget what is supposed to happen. And someday the words will demand to be let out once again. But for now I am content to chip away at it a little at a time.

Okay, that became a bit long and rambly. Allow me to sum up:

Short Term Analysis:

Getting published = lots of work, not much return. Thrill of seeing your name in bookstores. Not all it’s cracked up to be.

Online gaming = fun.

Long Term Analysis:

Getting published = lots of work, not much return. Not all it’s cracked up to be.

Online gaming = fun.

Moved

2005-08-04T11:59:00.000-04:00

My apologies to my four readers for the lack of entries last month; it was a busy time for me.

Moving is a painful process. I tried to make it easier by breaking it down into stages and doing a little bit each day, but that just spread the pain out over three weeks instead of one condensed day. I hoarded every empty box from my work and we started packing the day we signed the lease. Soon the garage was full, but it seemed as if we hadn’t done a thing. We got approval to start moving things in early, so I spent the last week of July shipping boxes while my brother in law painted a couple of rooms in the new house. My goal was to have all of the small stuff moved by Saturday the 30^th so all we would have left was the large furniture.

I failed in that endeavor; despite spending what seemed like every waking moment after work on moving, there were still three rooms left to go by Saturday. We started at 8am and didn’t finish until 4pm. Most of the stuff ended up in the new garage or the basement; we’ve started to sort that stuff, but there’s so much of it, it’s going to be 2008 before we’re fully in.

It’s amazing how much a family of seven can accumulate over the course of a few years. I blame my wife; she can’t turn down good deals on things like frames or vases, even though we have tons of each. She also keeps a bushel of the plastic grocery bags, although I’m not sure what for. And she wouldn’t let me throw anything away, even though we have more toys than our boys could possibly play with and the majority of them have been sitting unused in boxes. I could have pitched 80% of them without anyone noticing.

Just to top everything off, I also got poison ivy from somewhere. I don’t know where; as far as I can tell, there is none in the yard. My guess is that it was mixed in with the mulch we put down at the new house. When I get poison ivy, I get it everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I’ve been miserable for the past week. Thank god for Diphenhydramine.

Let's Start Over...

2005-08-03T11:37:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I wish I had amnesia. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to start with a clean slate? I sometimes daydream about what would happen if I woke up one day in, say, Kansas, and didn’t know who I was or what I was doing. I even thought about turning this idea into a book, but the whole amnesiac-with-a-story has been done to death recently (not to mention its continuing popularity in various soaps).

It would be very cool to read my own story without already knowing the intricate details. What would I think about it if I wasn’t so completely biased?

And think of all the things you could do for the first time again. Like watch “The Shawshank Redemption”, which is quite possibly the best watch-for-the-first-time shows ever (it holds up to repeated viewings, but once you know the twists, it can never have the same impact).

Of course, amnesia would create its own problems, the first one being the fact that you probably got slammed hard on the head and now have brain damage. Of course, many of the people I know already seem brain damaged, so perhaps that wouldn’t matter so much.

And what would happen when your former wife / child / cat / other miscellaneous past loved one found you? And you had already re-married and had other children? And a new dog? Your old family would probably forgive you and something would be worked out. Your old cat wouldn’t, but that’s okay; dogs are expendable.

Speaking of soaps (yes I was – go back and check the end of the first paragraph :P), Sheila is apparently back on The Young and the Restless. A long time ago, during the only unemployed couple of months in my grown-up career, I was given the assignment of watching Y&R for my wife and keeping her up to date on it. Despite the shoddy writing, ridiculous plot twists, and often bland acting, it turned out to be fun to watch. The best character was the evil nurse Sheila. Even after I went back to work, I’d watch whenever I could just to see what she was up to. Eventually she left and the show grew too tiresome to watch.

But now she’s back, and I might just have to TIVO Y&R.

What's All This Then?

2005-07-21T11:55:00.000-04:00

It’s happening again. London is finding more bombs in its underground. There are guys (and girls) getting shipped to Afghanistan and Iraq to fight battles that are ultimately unwinnable. Really. I mean, how do you win? It’s not like a traditional war were you capture the opponent’s main fortress and take out the commander and the enemy is left with no recourse but to surrender. There’s no main fortress here. There’s no clear objective, even. We can’t even hope everyone comes to their senses; there’s enough hatred to keep the fight going indefinitely.

We live in a relativistic society that is being bombarded by the one thing relativism hates most: clear absolutes. Postmodern philosophy is everywhere. It’s no longer considered “politically correct” to judge anything, or to state that there is one correct view of anything. Whatever an individual feels is right for them to do, it’s cool; no one else has the right to argue with them.

If you want to worship a personal god and I believe in a non-personal force, well it doesn’t matter. They’re just different facets of the same truth. Even though they contradict each other on almost every conceivable level.

I once had a conversation with a friend who insisted that all religions were basically the same message; “just opposite sides of the same coin”.

Which side of the coin are the terrorists on?

According to our society, the terrorists are simply following what they believe and we have no right to judge them for it. If they believe that taking out as many people as possible while committing suicide is the best way to get glory in Heaven, what right do you or I have to say they’re wrong? All paths lead up the same mountain, right? It’s just the opposite side of the same coin, right?

I don’t think so. I don’t see how any reasonable person could look at what is happening and claim that it’s okay. There are some things that are just…wrong. Whether people want to admit it or not. There is such a thing as absolute truth.

Look at the world’s major religions. No, not even the religions; look at the world’s major world-views. They can’t possibly all be true. There is no way that anyone who studies them even a tiny little bit could come away with the impression that they all lead to basically the same place.

Let’s start with the obvious: atheism versus any religion that claims there is a god or god-like force. Clearly these two views cannot both be right at the same time. They are utter contradictions. You can say “Well, if I believe it, it’s true for me.” all you want – that doesn’t make it true.

Just because you claim to believe in something does not make it true. I wish it did – that would be way cool. Here’s a test for you: believe with all your might that you have a billion dollars in your hand. Unless you’re Bill Gates, all the belief in the world isn’t going to produce that money.

Belief does not create reality.

Next step: Eastern religious beliefs versus the whole Judeo-Christian-Islam-etc group. Buddhism and Hinduism believe that God is an impersonal force and, further, that our goal is to one day lose our individuality and join that force. The other group believes in a personal god, although they vary in multiple different ways as to the nature of the human dilemma and the way out of it.

These thought processes aren’t different paths up the same mountain; they’re on completely different mountains. If God exists, he is either personal or impersonal. He can’t be both. This is another clear-cut contradiction.

I’m out of time so I’ll have to continue this another day. But don’t be lazy when it comes to figuring out what’s going on in the world. And in the end, that’s all relativism is: a lazy way out of really looking at the real issues.

Mary Had a...Bicycle?

2005-07-14T09:31:00.000-04:00

Krista recently had a post about Writer’s Doubt. This is a different animal than Writer’s Block; same species, different phylum. Or vice/versa – I can’t remember which comes first.

I was watching Sesame Street the other day (I have two toddlers, that’s why). This particular episode had the little skit where Kermit the Frog was trying to help that piano guy compose a song, but the guy just couldn’t get it right. Remember him? He was trying to compose a song about a girl named Mary who had a…something. He couldn’t figure out what. Despite Kermit’s attempts to prompt him toward “a little lamb”, the poor guy got continually frustrated when he couldn’t think of rhyming words. At the height of his despair, he banged his head multiple times on the piano keyboard.

That’s exactly how it feels some days when I’m trying to write, but the sentences and paragraphs that end up being typed onto the computer screen refuse to cooperate.

“I’ll never get it!” Bang bang bang.

Fortunately, the Sesame Street guy had a happy ending – he came up with a song that, although not quite the original, still had a good flow and plot and a nice twist on the end. Kermit was a bit put off, but I’m sure he got over it in time.

The same is true for Writer’s Doubt. Take a little time off, let some other people read it and tell you how great it is (your mother or siblings are often good for that kind of thing), then re-read what you have so far. This usually gets me refocused and back on track. Unless I’m feeling lazy or would rather be playing BF2 or something. But that’s an animal of a completely different class.

Sometimes, this process leads to one of those rare flashes of inspiration. Reading through old material with fresh eyes can re-ignite the imagination and lead you to places you never would have thought of before; and sometimes, that means the story becomes better than it would have had you never had your moment of doubt.

So, then, let’s all sing along:

Mary had a bicycle

bicycle

Mary had a bicycle

And it was red as fire.

And every time she wanted to ride

wanted to ride

Every time she wanted to ride

The bicycle had a flat tire.

Mary, Mary; flat tire!

What the...

2005-07-13T10:40:00.000-04:00

Drove by the new house yesterday. That’s something we’ve been doing periodically ever since we found it; before it was to check it out “one more time”. This time is was to see if the work we had requested had been started yet.

Nothing major. The appliances in the kitchen hadn’t been hooked up yet; the fireplace needs a flue clip; the gate to the backyard needs to be raised (or the ground beneath it lowered) so it will open. Little things like that.

There was no sign of workers, but there was a car parked in the driveway and a mini-van parked on the curb. And a family of three walking around in the yard.

Perhaps there’s another explanation, but it looked for all the world as if our house was still being shown to prospective buyers.

We drove around the block and passed by again. Car still there. Mini-van still there. Family of three nowhere in sight, but the lock-box containing the key to the front door (the code to which the realtor had assured us is never given out unless they’re there to show the house) was open and empty.

Hmm…

We put down a deposit on Friday (it’s a lease-to-own) but they suggested waiting until the repairs we had requested were done and we had a chance for a final walk-through before we signed the lease. Now the wife is panicking, certain that the realtor is showing the house so they can sell it out from under us. We drive back home and she gets on the phone. (Note the subtle shift from past to present tense to heighten the tension of the story. ;) )

“We’d like to sign the lease today or tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m going on vacation for a couple of weeks. Can it wait?”

“No, the school needs proof of address so we can register our kids for classes.”

“Well, I’m not in the office. I’ll go there and look some things over and call you back.”

That might have been okay last week – it’s not anymore. Now the wife doesn’t trust the realtor. She digs up the copy of the lease we had them send over the week before, then we call them and ask if that’s good enough. It is. We sign it and fax it; after waiting a half-hour or so, they fax it back.

At the end of the day, we have the house.

I don’t know what, exactly, was going on with the mini-van family; perhaps some other realtor was showing them the house, unaware that it had been spoken for. Although I would think other realtors would have to check with the company who is selling the house before they just walk right in.

Perhaps we were panicking for no reason. The realtor has been affable and friendly so far – I’d like to think there was just a minor slip-up somewhere. But, perhaps the people we’re leasing/buying the house from are scum. I guess time will tell.

***

In other news, the evil people in my department here at work brought in a breakfast potluck consisting of virtually every single thing that I can't eat while I'm on this diet. I've spent the entire day resisting blueberry muffins and brownies and doughnuts.

They're evil, I say. At least someone brought in fruit (along with evil fruit dip), so I've had a few grapes.

I Hate Moving

2005-07-11T11:38:00.000-04:00

We just bought a house and we’ll be moving in on July 30^th (so if any of you are available to help move that day…). It’s a nice house; four bedrooms – the 13-year old is ecstatic about getting his own room – so we can spread out a bit, a two car garage which will soon be stuffed full of anything but vehicles, great schools, decent neighborhood (even though we back up to condos), a fenced-in back yard…it’s not fancy, but it’s just what we need.

But that brings me back to the moving thing. We’ve already got two rooms disassembled and a heap of boxes in the garage, but it feels like we’ve barely scratched the surface of what needs to be done. I don’t think there are enough boxes in this city to fit all the crap the seven of us have accumulated.

On the plus side, we won’t have to move as much furniture as before; we held a yard sale of sorts and sold some of our beech-wood stuff because the wife decided it wouldn’t match the wood in the new house. We made a little over $200 – but now we don’t have a table to eat on.

Before we can move any of our crap, we need to do the one thing I hate more than moving – painting. The former owners, who apparently watched too much Trading Spaces, chose a dark brown for the kitchen and a deep burgundy for the master bedroom. There is wallpaper in the dining room. The design is kind of cool, but it’s definitely not us; besides which, they appear to have run out of wallpaper and finished the next section with a different pattern that really doesn’t match.

The worst part of the new house is that the boys will have to switch schools. The 13-year old has already been in 6 different school systems. The 10-year old hasn’t been moved quite that much, but it’s still hard. The six year old just finished Kindergarten and was traumatized at the news that we were moving.

“Me and my friends said we’d be together forever,” he said as tears streamed down his face. ‘Now we can’t.”

It was inevitable that such a pact would be broken eventually; it’s just too bad it had to be so soon. And unfortunate that it had to be us.

book quiz

2005-07-09T16:37:00.000-04:00

got this link from tammy. i've never heard of the book -- guess i'll have to go get it.

although it doesn't really describe me. oh well, that's internet surveys for you...

You're One Hundred Years of Solitude!

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Lonely and struggling, you've been around for a very long time.
Conflict has filled most of your life and torn apart nearly everyone you know. Yet there
is something majestic and even epic about your presence in the world. You love life all
the more for having seen its decimation. After all, it takes a village.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Update

2005-07-08T07:17:00.000-04:00

Everyone I know in London has checked in; they and their families are safe. For now. My prayers continue.

That’s it for today – Tammy has some work for me to do.

Bringing London Home

2005-07-07T11:25:00.000-04:00

I looked over my list of ideas for blogging today, but nothing seemed appropriate. How can I write about nonsensical things like writing or movies when London is at war?

The Internet is an amazing thing; I have friends in London. I barely had friends in my various neighborhoods when I was growing up, and now I have people I consider to be reasonably close in places like London and Sydney, Australia. It’s fantastic, most of the time; it’s heart-wrenching now. Meyhem (his gaming name, and no, it’s not misspelled) lives in London. His posts on the forum went from, “The Olympics are going to be only 30 minutes from my house!” to, “I haven’t heard from my mum.”

How’s that for a little perspective?

Five years ago I would have heard or read about today’s incident and thought, “That’s a pity. People are evil.” Then I wouldn’t have thought much more about it. Now it’s personal; now I have something real to fear.

Be careful over there, Meyhem and Merc. I’m praying for you.

Potty Break

2005-07-06T11:30:00.000-04:00

The twins are three now. They’re past the “terrible twos”, although I must say that their twos weren’t so bad. A more accurate, if less alliterative title would be the “cute twos”.

Watching them grow has been a fascinating journey, as all of you parents out there already know. Every day we’re surprised by something one or the other somehow knows how to do or say. Every time I think they can’t get any cuter, they do.

Now if only they’d learn to use the bathroom.

That’s right, it’s potty training time. We’ve worked on it with them a little bit in the past, but we’re starting to concentrate on it a bit more now. So far, they’re okay with it; they try off and on, and are even successful sometimes. My wife got them some padded underwear, and they really like them, but now the boys have created the mindset that they don’t have to try to go potty if they’re wearing diapers.

I’ve been dreading this stage; can’t wait for it to be over. I’m hoping they’ll be more or less done by September (just as an arbitrary date). Since I have no experience with this sort of thing, I don’t know if that’s a reasonable time frame or not. Guess I’ll soon find out.

Excuse for Not Writing Last Night

2005-06-23T11:34:00.000-04:00

I bought Battlefield 2 yesterday.

Well, not “bought”, exactly. I ended up paying $1.50 out of my pocket. The other $52 came from a gift card I got for my birthday that I’ve been saving for just this occasion, and a DVD return.

The return was difficult for me, because it was a birthday present from my brother, who actually went shopping and found something I would like instead of taking the easy way out and getting me a gift card. But I never get time to watch DVD’s anymore; the TV always has Dora the Explorer or Max and Ruby or The Last Avatar (ugh). I’d had the DVD for five months, and it was still in its plastic wrapping.

That turned out to be a good thing, because it made the DVD returnable. It was a double-disc concert DVD (Alison Krauss, if you’re curious), and it cost thirty bucks. Just enough, when added to my gift card, to pay for BF2. All I had to do was pay for the tax.

The game itself is fun. I’ve always wanted a tank game, and I love flight games, and I like driving games, and shooting at things is always great. BF2 has all of that. The only thing is doesn’t have is a story. I’ve never played a game that didn’t have some semblance of a plot before; I wouldn’t have guessed that such a thing would be marketable. But BF2 is a new brand of game – it’s made for the multi-player experience, not the single player story.

That’s not the way most games are made. Games up to this point were built around an SP storyline and the MP part was based on the SP part. BF2’s single-player is the exact same as the multi-player, but with computer-controlled enemies instead of online humans. The objective is to win all the points on a map. There’s no storyline tying it together, even loosely. You aren’t General Roxors, in command of a battalion that needs to win a series of encounters in order to secure victory for the USA. You’re just you, trying to survive a battle. And when the battle is done, you do it again. And again. And again.

In a way, it harks back to the old days of gaming, when there was no end level. You went through “stages”, each more or less the same, but progressively faster and harder. You played until you couldn’t keep up anymore. No theme, no real plot, just reflex endurance.

BF2 is kind of like that, which is unfortunate. I remember the first game I ever finished (Dark Forces 2: Jedi Knight). I felt a great sense of accomplishment. It was exhilarating. Playing a single-player game without a real end is like chewing a really good steak but not swallowing; it tastes good, but in the end it doesn’t satisfy.

That being said, BF2 is worth it for the MP action, especially if you have people you know to play with. I probably wouldn’t play much after a couple weeks (and, in fact, wouldn’t have got the game in the first place) if I didn’t know a lot of guys (and at least one girl) who were eager to play it. The team camaraderie makes all the difference.

205.5

What the @#*! Are You Doing Here?

2005-06-21T11:36:00.000-04:00

Someone unexpected showed up last night. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Here’s what happened: I was writing, as I sometimes do, and the narrative was going reasonably well. I finished a scene, but then decided the end was missing something, so I added on to it.

That’s when she showed up. Her name is Sloan. She was my thief back when I played Baldur’s Gate, although the word “thief” is often loosely defined in the fantasy world. The Baldur’s Gate Sloan didn’t do any actual thieving; she was an expert at finding traps and secret doors, etc. The book version of Sloan is also not really a thief; she’s more of a mercenary assassin.

When I made my submission to Wizards of the Coast for their Eberron contest, Sloan was one of the secondary characters. Since I apparently didn’t win that contest, I re-routed the book I submitted to a non-Eberron setting and, as I started writing the new version, Sloan moved from the background and became one of the main characters. And that was fine.

But I’m not working on that book right now. I’m on a completely different book, with a different setting and different rules. Sloan shouldn’t be there. Yet there she was last night, standing on the road as if she not only belonged, but as if she actually owned the damn road. The guy in my book didn’t know what to make of her. Hell, neither did I. But she offered to help him, and he took her up on the offer, so I guess she’s here to stay.

I don’t know what’s going to come out of this; the feeling in my stomach is either excitement or trepidation. Right now, it’s hard to tell which.

What Are the Odds?

2005-06-20T12:48:00.000-04:00

I’m not a gambler. I don’t like to take unnecessary chances.

Here’s a little test to see if you’re a gambler:

I offer you $50, straight up, or you can flip a coin. If it lands on tails, you get $1000. If it lands on heads, you have to pay me $1000.

A gambler would take the coin toss, hoping for big bucks. I’d take the $50 every time. I can’t afford to lose a thousand bucks. The risk wouldn’t be worth it for me.

I took my very first business trip in April. It was in Las Vegas. I gambled once: I took $100 to a $10 blackjack table (the $5 tables were full).

The way to win at Blackjack is simple: you lay down the minimum bet. If you win, you smile and lay down the minimum bet again. If you lose, you lay down twice what you bet the first time. That way, if you win you get your money back plus the original bet. If you win the second time, you lay down the minimum again. If you lose, you double the doubled amount.

If you follow this method, you’re guaranteed to win, provided two things: you have a stake large enough to weather a losing streak; and you’re willing to walk away once you’ve gone ahead.

Here is a play-by-play of the hands:

MY BET ME DEALER

10.......... 16........ 20

20......... 18......... 20

40......... 12........ 18

At this point, as you can see, I had lost three straight hands. The dealer was hot and I was getting crap cards. To make things worse, I could no longer double my bet – I only had $100 to start with, and now I was down to $30. Here’s how the rest played out:

10....... 16...... 19

20....... 15...... 20

Five straight hands, five losses. A real gambler would have asked the dealer to add $200 to his hotel bill and kept up with the betting procedure, certain of winning at some point. I, however, had $100 to bet with, and when that was gone, my gambling was done.

What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well, nothing really. It was just on my mind. Although I am beginning to wonder if my conservativeness is related to my extreme suckiness when it comes to fps computer games. Do I get killed because I was too afraid to attack? Do I try to be defensive when I should be ignoring the possible costs of the action and just (to borrow a now-cliched term) do it?

Possibly. I know that when I’m dueling in Jedi Knight, I tend to cut my attacks off when it looks like the opponent’s swing is coming toward me. Maybe if I ignored the opponent and finished my own attack, I’d end up winning.

Or maybe I’d just lose all the sooner. Who knows? It’s not worth the risk.

The Loosers Are Comming!

2005-06-17T11:17:00.000-04:00

I used to love forum hopping. I became addicted to it early on in my internet career. Now I don’t have as much time for it, but I still miss it. The only downside to forum hopping is the constant barrage of grammar and spelling errors that inevitably get posted.

I don’t mind some of it. It’s one thing to misspell “pterodactyl”, or to confuse “its” and “it’s”. I don’t even mind the occasional “to” when it should be “too”, or “your” versus “you’re”.

But simple spelling is another thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen “loose” instead of “lose”. “He’s a looser!” “They’re going to loose.” “I don’t want to loose this match!” It sounds like they’re sharing some sort of gastro-intestinal issue.

At least “loose” is a real word. Here is an actual quote: “They are comming! They are here!” Comming? What in the world does that mean? They are communicating over a com link?

I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that my spelling and grammar are always perfect. I do proofread what I write before posting, and if I’m not sure how something is spelled I check with Word before I use it. But the occasional “its/it’s” error sometimes sneaks in, and I’ve even caught myself writing the wrong “your/you’re”, although I think that’s more a symptom of too much forum-hopping than anything else.

Anyway, I guess in the end it’s not so important. I try not to comment on anyone’s grammar or spelling unless their post is just totally unreadable. One thing I have learned is that people don’t appreciate having their grammar or spelling corrected. The loosers.

In other, writing related, news, I had an idea yesterday for a new story (to add to my list of stories that aren’t being written right now). It seems like a good concept, and might actually make a better screenplay than novel. I have no idea how to write a screenplay, or market it, for that matter. Presumably there are agents for screenplays. Guess I’ll have to do some <shudder> research. If anyone happens to know a trustworthy site or two on the subject with some free information, I’d appreciate it.

Writers' Kryptonite

2005-06-14T12:27:00.000-04:00

Krista wrote about writers’ weaknesses. My main weakness is procrastination. I know that’s not the kind of answer she was looking for (and I’m sorry for tangenting your topic), but it’s true; writers write, and I can scarcely call myself one most of the time.

As for weaknesses within my writing, I used to be overly fond of adverbs until Tammy beat them out of me. But I have difficulty recognizing my own failings; I never would have known I used too many adverbs unless someone had pointed it out. I can’t even think of what to put here as my biggest writing weakness, although I’ve sent out an email to Tammy so she can tell me what it is. Perhaps it’s an overuse of commas. I love commas. I think I sometimes use them too much because I try to make my writing sound like speech, with all the little pauses that go along with it. I also love dashes, but I’ve recently discovered the semi-colon, which works much better in places where I used to use dashes.

I think, in the end, my biggest writing weakness is missing a sound foundation in grammar. I know how to put sentences and paragraphs together, and when I read something, I know whether it’s written correctly or not. But I don’t know why. Grammar classes always bored me to tears in school, but now I wish I had paid closer attention. When I read something that is written poorly I can say, “Try writing it this way.” But I couldn’t tell them, grammatically, what it is that is wrong. I’d like to be able to say, “The prepositional phrase should match the subject, you fool.” Or whatever.

I actually have a couple books on it, and I can fix this problem by reading them. Which I will.

Someday.

Anyway, here’s a less important side note:

I don’t really follow pop culture all that much. I don’t read tabloids, I couldn’t care less who is dating, marrying, and/or divorcing who, and I didn’t give a single ounce of attention Michael Jackson trial. But yesterday someone referred to Michael Jackson as a “musical genius”. My response was an incredulous, “Huh?”

I cannot fathom how Jackson is still so popular today. He had one good solo album (“Thriller”) in the early 1980’s which had a handful of catchy songs (although the recent trial certainly cast “PYT” in a new light). Since then, he has released a few un-noteworthy efforts and become more of a freak with each passing year. He doesn’t even look human anymore. He embarrasses himself every time he opens his mouth or hangs a baby out a window. Yet, somehow, he remains one of the most popular icons in the world.

Why? I just don’t get it. Someone please explain it to me.

This just in: Tammy’s response to my biggest weakness:

“lack of decisiveness.

you, and your characters, are all very flexible and easy going.

Be More Definite!”

So there you go.

I Can't Think of a Good Title

2005-06-13T11:46:00.000-04:00

It took me awhile to write this today because, even though I have a small list of things to write about, I couldn’t think of anything to write. This is known as Writer’s Block. It’s an affliction of the mind, where the brain tries to fish from its usual pool of thoughts and ideas and comes up empty.

Fishing is actually a pretty good metaphor for writing. You sit at the keyboard and throw a line into the recesses of your brain and wait for an idea to take a nibble. Once the bobber starts to…um…bob, you carefully draw it in by examining its logic; “Could that really happen?”

Once it’s out of the water, it can be examined more carefully. What are the implications if this is true? What if this happened instead? How does this affect the other characters? How much research is this going to take and is it worth the effort?

Sometimes the idea won’t work for one reason or another and you throw it back and try again.

Usually it can fit somewhere; even if you have no use for it now, it would probably fit another story at another time. The important thing when this happens is to write it down somewhere. You can’t count on having the same idea twice; if you forget it, it’s probably gone for good.

Sometimes you get several good ideas; it’s like one of those fishing days where fish keep biting every time you put the hook in the water (I’ve never had one of those days while fishing, but I hear it sometimes happens). Words flow and hours pass and before you know it, 2000 words have been added to the story.

Every now and then you land a monster; inspiration strikes and something that’s been missing is suddenly made clear, or a major plotline or character arch just appears out of the blue. These ideas give you enough meat to feed your writing for days.

But then there are the silent days, when you’ve had your line in the water for what seems like forever and nothing happens. You change spots and cast again, and still nothing happens. There’s nothing worse than a blank screen. So you type something. Anything. “Once, when the world was young, a chicken flew out from behind a…” Then you realize it’s crap and erase it. You start again. “Call me Billy Bob.” Delete. “I can’t think of anything so I’m just going to hit thesekeysuntilsomethinghappens,dammit.” Delete.

The best thing to do when this happens is do something else. Try again later. Just don’t wait too long or before you know it 15 years will have passed and you will be in the exact same spot you were before.

I Had a Dream Last Night

2005-06-10T11:28:00.000-04:00

Thank you, God, for not making me a prophet.

I had a dream last night. It was weird and convoluted, as all dreams are. At one point I was trying to get across a field without being trampled by several large and angry animals. I made it across, as did most of my family – they hadn’t been there when I started crossing – but one of my two-year-old boys got trampled.

If you’ve ever wondered whether you can feel emotion in a dream, the answer is yes. I remember my despair as if it had actually happened. Fortunately, I woke up soon after this and he was sleeping peacefully right beside me.

My wife and I have spoiled the twins from the start. They get whatever they want, provided it’s safe and we actually have some (“Sorry, we’re out of popsicles.”). When they were babies and woke in the middle of the night we would transfer them into our bed. Now they sleep in our bed every night. Eventually we’re going to have to kick them out, but for now we like it this way.

You can say all you want about teaching kids independence or letting them cry until they fall asleep or whatever. I don’t buy it. D and M are two years old. If they cry, I pick them up and walk with them until they’re not crying anymore. They’re still innocent. There will be plenty of time in the future for them to learn that the world is unsafe, cruel, and unfair. I’m going to protect them from it as long as I can.

Just Clanning Around part 3: The History of Hyperstream

2005-06-10T11:11:00.000-04:00

A long time ago on a server far, far away, a clan was formed by friends from a defunct modding team. The friends had a forum called Hyperstream. At the time, JK2 was in its prime, so they decided to form a clan, also called Hyperstream.

The leader of the clan was named Kirk (note: all names changed to protect both the innocent and guilty). But the guy who owned both the forum and their JK2 server was Chuck. Although no one knew it at the time, this was the beginning of the schism that would tear HS apart.

Hyperstream – both the forum and the clan – grew by leaps and bounds. They had a good number of extraordinary duelists. One of these, CGIman, recruited Samurai, who introduced Spinner to both the world of online gaming and to the clan.

Things went well for several months. Altough CGIman was gone frequently, both Samurai and Spinner rose quickly up the ranks of the clan; Samurai because he was an excellent duelist as well as a straight-shooting, no-nonsense kind of guy, and Spinner despite the fact that he sucked at dueling, but was relatively mature and became something of a mediator for the rather impetuous core of the clan.

But then the schism started to widen. This happened because Chuck was 12 or so and was not even close to mature enough to be a leader. On the JK server, where he was supposed to be an Admin and enforce the rules, he was very often the biggest lamer there. He enjoyed Admin stunts like setting up a small room full of trip mines and then teleporting unsuspecting players into it. When confronted, his response was, ‘It’s my server and I can do what I want.’ Kirk had no recourse against Chuck, because pissing Chuck off would mean losing the server and the forums.

Well, things came to a head after a couple months of this behavior when one of Chuck’s admin-padawans (named Meteor) was confronted by Spinner, then an admin in his own right (but not the laming kind). Although Spinner knew Meteor was in the wrong, he stupidly failed to take screenshots of the behavior, and in the ensuing battle of he-said/he-said, Chuck took Meteor’s side and Spinner decided enough was enough.

Sadly, this happened at 3am est, so none of Spinner’s supporters (who could have verified the truth) were online, and the thread was locked by the time anyone else saw it.

So Spinner left, and was soon followed by Samurai. They joined another clan, SinisteR, together, drawn by their friendship with <SR>Devastator. CGIman stayed to try to keep HS afloat, but it was too late; the clan limped on for a few more months and then died an ignoble death. Eventually CGIman saw the light and joined Spinner and Samurai at SinisteR.

Just Clanning Around part 2

2005-06-09T11:35:00.000-04:00

It’s amazing how much difference there is between dial-up and…well, all forms of connection that aren’t dial-up. The first time I tried a multi-player game (using dial-up) I couldn’t even move. I kept dying before I even knew I had been shot. So getting our DSL was, in many ways, a life-changing experience for me.

When I first started playing mp Jedi Outcast, I had no idea what was going on (notice how I’m going out of my way to avoid using such gaming terms as “noob”). I assumed that, upon entering a free-for-all server, it would be a no-holds-barred, every-man-for-himself melee; and, in fact, if I had started my mp career with any other game, that would have been the case.

Instead, I found people jumping around, talking, killing themselves (as opposed to each other) en masse just for the hell of it, and occasionally having lightsaber duels. It was hilarious. It was fun. I was hooked instantly. I spent more and more time around this group and eventually found out they were in a clan called Hyperstream. I checked out their forums; it was an alive and active place, and everyone seemed to be happy and nice. I spent more time on their servers. I got tips on how to use my digital saber (turns out it’s not just random swinging after all). I joined the clan.

I went into it with some trepidation, but the fear didn’t last. I can honestly say that my first couple months in HS were among the happiest times in my life (which tells you more about my life than anything else). Despite that fact that even with training, I sucked at lightsaber dueling, I was made a Captain right away, thus outranking many of the people who I had already met. To this day I don’t know why, but it was fine with me. I was very active on the forums and the server and, for a little over two months, it was great.

But then the HS world started to splinter.

Just Clanning Around part 1

2005-06-07T11:33:00.000-04:00

Hello, my name is Dervish and I am in a clan.

Whew, glad I got that off my chest.

For those of you who don’t spend all their free time playing online games and have therefore probably not been exposed to this phenomenon, clans are groups of nerds who form teams based around their favorite multi-player games. If you’ve played any mp games, even just a few times, you’ve probably seen them. They have tags in front or behind their names, such as {HS}Hyper or <SR>Boogeyman^TKL.

My first experience with clans was not a good one. I was addicted to the game Baldur’s Gate, so when my wife and I got the internet for the first time, I decided to try playing BG online. I hooked up and was sent to a site that linked to several electronic rooms. Many of the rooms had weird names and said “recruiting”, whatever that meant. After wandering around for awhile, I chose one that seemed to have a few players, but not too many, and entered.

Within seconds I had been recruited into a clan, although I didn’t realize it. They told me to put some letters after my name – I thought it was some sort of thing that was required by the software or something. I kept asking when we were going to actually play the game, and they said, “Oh, I guess we can do that.” But we never did.

I was very popular there – I kept getting private messages asking me to join other clans, and even got in a tug-of-war between two guys who apparently had a history and didn’t much like each other. I think one of the problems was that the name I had chosen to connect by was Trendil, because that was the name of the kick-ass ranger I had been planning to play with. So all these pre-teen clan leaders thought I was a girl. Eventually I got frustrated, told everyone that all I wanted to do was play the freaking game, and disconnected.

I didn’t try another multi-player game until two years later, and when I finally did try it again (with Jedi Outcast), I knew one thing for certain – I sure as hell wasn’t going to join any stupid online clans.

And His Name Was...Steve?

2005-06-06T11:40:00.000-04:00

No one ever asks me what the hardest part of writing is. That’s because no one knows I’m a writer. But if someone did ask such a question, the answer would be naming characters.

I suck at naming. My characters have random names that don’t really mean anything. I looked in a baby name book and found names that I liked. There’s no rhyme or reason, no attempt to make characters from the same general region have regional-sounding names.

But that’s how it is in real life. Or was, before cultures started to blend. Think of all those Irish, German, or Chinese names that you don’t hear anywhere else. You don’t find a lot of Yu Chin’s in Ireland, or anyone named Hans in Korea.

Some authors seem to spend a lot of their time on character naming. Stephen R. Donaldson (bias warning: he’s my favorite author) keeps close tabs on the names of the characters in the Covenant books. Stonedowners have different sounding names than Woodhelvenin (not sure of the spelling of that word). The Bloodguard have strong, usually single-syllable names. Giants have long names that fit their characteristics (although how their parents would know what they would be like in order to name them is unclear).

Tolkien, of course, is the ultimate example. Perhaps it’s not fair to use Tolkien as a standard – he was a philologist, after all, and he was meticulous about finding the right name for all of his characters – but every time I read his books I’m struck by the way the names fit the species. Dwarves have dwarven names. Elves have elven names. And humans have…well, cool names.

That’s one thing all sf/f books seem to have in common – cool sounding human names. Very rare is the hero named Joe or Steve. It’s always Aragorn or Dubric or Fflewddur Fllam. I guess I’m not the only one who goes out of his way to find unique names for characters.

A Series of Unfortunate Questions

2005-06-05T15:58:00.000-04:00

Tammy told me to post this because Monica told her to. So here it is. Repost it in your own blog, bolding those things that fit you, and add one of your own at the end.

It came to me without some of the numbers, so I took the liberty of adding them back in. :D

01. I miss somebody right now.
02. I don’t watch much TV these days.
03. I love olives
04. I own lots of books.

05. I know what happened to #05.
06. I wear glasses or contact lenses.
07. I love to play video games.
08. I’ve tried marijuana.
09. I’ve watched porn movies.
10. I have been in a threesome.
11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship.
12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy.

13. I think 13 ran off with 14.

14. I think 14 left alone.
15. I curse sometimes.
16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year.
17. I have a hobby.

18. There is NO 18.
19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me.
20. I’m TOTALLY smart.
21. I’ve never broken someone’s bones.
22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal.
23. I hate the rain.
24. I’m paranoid at times.
25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.
26. I need money right now.
27. I love sushi.
28. I talk really, really fast.
29. I have fresh breath in the morning.
30. I have long hair.
31. I have lost money in Las Vegas.
32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister.
33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S.
34. I shave my legs (females) or face (males) on a regular basis.
35. I have a twin (or a triplet, or somesuch).
36. I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past.
37. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D.
38. I like the way that I look.
39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months.
40. I know how to cornrow.
41. I am usually pessimistic.
42. I have a lot of mood swings.
43. I think prostitution should be legalized.
44. I think Britney Spears is pretty.
45. Slept with a Suitemate.
46. I have a hidden talent.
47. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have.
48. I have a lot of friends.
49. I am currently single.
50. I have pecked someone of the same sex. (given that pecked means kissed…)
51. I enjoy talking on the phone.
52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants.
53. I love to shop.
54. I would rather shop than eat.
55. I would classify myself as ghetto.
56. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders.
57. I’m obsessed with my Xanga or Livejournal.
58. I don’t hate anyone. I dislike them.
59. I’m a pretty good dancer
60. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington.
61. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother.
62. I have a cell phone.
63. I believe in God.
64. I watch MTV on a daily basis.
65. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months.
66. I love drama. (Somebody else’s, not my own)
67. I have never been in a real relationship before.
68. I’ve rejected someone before.
69. I currently have a crush/like someone.
70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.
71. I want to have children in the future.
72. I have changed a diaper before.
73. I’ve called the cops on a friend before.
74. I bite my nails.
75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club.
76. I’m not allergic to anything.
77. I have a lot to learn.
78. I have been with someone at least 10 years older or younger.
79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest “Friday” movie.
80. I am shy around the opposite sex.
81. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message.
82. I have at least 5 away messages saved.
83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before.
84. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other or crush in the past.
85. I own the “South Park” movie.
86. I have avoided assignments at work school to be on Xanga or Livejournal.
87. When I was a kid I played “the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or chum.
88. I enjoy some country music.
89. I would die for my best friends.

90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza.
91. I watch soap operas whenever I can
92. I’m obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist.
93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career.
94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all.
95. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story”.
96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy.
97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it.
98. I have dated a close friend’s ex.
99. I like surveys/memes.
100. I am happy at this moment.
101. I’m obsessed with guys.
102. I am bisexual.
103. Democrat.
104. Conservative Republican.
105. I am punk rockish.
106. I am preppy.
107. I go for older guys/girls, not younger
108. I study for tests most of the time.
109. I tie my shoelaces differently from anyone I’ve ever met.
110. I can work on a car.
111. I love my job.
112. I am comfortable with who I am right now.
113. I have more than just my ears pierced.
114. I walk barefoot wherever I can.
115. I have jumped off a bridge.
116. I love sea turtles.
117. I spend ridiculous amounts of money on makeup.
118. I believe in prophetic dreams.
119. I plan on achieving a major goal/dream.
120. I am proficient on a musical instrument.
121. I worked at McDonald’s restaurant. (How about Burger King?)
122. I hate office jobs.
123. I love sci-fi movies.
124. I’ve never been in love.
125. I think water rules.
126. I am going to college out of state.
127. I am adopted.
128. I like sausage.
129. I am a pyro. (I always insist on starting the grill. Love it.)
130. I love the Red Sox.
131. I have thrown up from crying too much.
132. I have been intentionally hurt by people that I loved.
133. I love kisses.
134. I fall for the worst people and have been hurt every time.
135. I adore bright colors.
136. I love Dear Abby.
137. I can’t live without black eyeliner.
138. I think school is awesome.
139. I think pigtails serve a purpose.
140. I don’t know why the hell I just did this stupid thing.
141. I usually like covers better than originals.
142. I don’t like multi-textured ice cream
143. I think John Cusack is adorable.
144. I f**king hate chain theme restaurants like Applebees and TGIFridays.
145. I watch Food Network way too much.
146. I love coaching youth sports.
147. I can pick up things with my toes
148. I can’t whistle.
149. I can move my tongue in waves, much like a snakes’ slither.
150. I have ridden/owned a horse.
151. I still have every journal I’ve ever written in. (And every note someone wrote to me in high school. This comes in handy years later when you want to mortify your friends and enemies. And yourself.)
152. I can’t stick to a diet.
153. I talk in my sleep.

154. I have 3 or more children.

Hunger Strikes

2005-06-05T12:37:00.000-04:00

I’m hungry. That’s the problem with dieting; even if it’s one of the diets that let you eat plenty of food, you still feel like something’s missing.

I’m doing the Atkins thing. Again. When I did it the first time, I lost 33 pounds. Then it got to the holidays and I took a few months off and gained 20 of those pounds back. So I went back on it again, lost 15 pounds and hit the holidays again. After gaining 10 pounds, I decided to skip the dieting and just “eat healthy”. I was able to maintain a stable weight that way, but not lose any.

So now I’m back on my modified version of Atkins (it’s actually a little closer to South Beach). It works. I lost nine pounds in May. But I feel like there’s a hole in the middle of my body, like some integral part is missing. I’m carb-starved. This diet does strange things to my body and mind. I see one of my sons eating cereal and I’m overcome with a lust normally reserved for cheesecake. I never thought I would be in a position where I would kill for corn flakes.

It could be worse. One of my co-workers told me that she started to lose her hair when she went low-carb. A nurse said that low-carb diets can lead to renal failure. I guess I’ll take my chances for the sake of being thinner. It’s the American way, right?

Introduction, or Why This Blog Won't Last Long

2005-06-03T11:30:00.000-04:00

Hello. My name is Josh, and I am a writer.

Of course, the problem with saying that is that everyone immediately asks, “Oh really? What have you written?” The answer, in my case, is a lot of things. But none of it is anything you have likely read (actually, given the people who are actually reading this, that’s probably not true. I’m just pretending someone other than Tammy, Sammy, or Meg will read this at some point). This is because I’m a writer, not an author. The difference, to me, is the same as saying someone is an amateur and not a professional. I don’t get paid to write, although I’d like to someday.

Of course, saying I’m a writer implies that at some point in my daily activities, I sometimes write something. This brings up another important distinction between authors and me: authors actually finish what they start writing. I’ve been working on the same novel for 15 years or so.

What I need is discipline. I have a sanguine personality; I flit from one thing to the next. It’s difficult for me to stay self-motivated on one thing for very long. I’ll be excited about writing for awhile, and get a decent amount accomplished, but then I’ll lose interest and go on to something else. Eventually the urge to write comes back and I go through the process again. It’s the same principle that keeps me from exercising like I know I should; it just gets tedious. I find things I’d rather be doing.

The solution is finding people to keep me accountable. People like award-winning author Tamara Siler Jones (check out her link), who I met in an online writing workshop and who is there to kick me in the butt every time I start to wander away from writing. Because of her and a few other friends from the workshop, the book I spent 15 years writing actually got completed and sent out to agents. It was, of course, rejected, and I am currently rewriting much of it, but the point is that the book probably would never have been completed if I hadn’t found a way to be held accountable.

I’m not saying I write every day now, but these days I have actual reasons for not being able to write; it’s difficult to write and stay on top of two toddlers at the same time. Still, I have managed to move the story along a bit. Someday maybe it will be ready to send out to agents again. And then maybe I’ll even get to be an author.

Let's Begin With a Review

2005-06-02T11:39:00.000-04:00

Revenge of the Sith (what did you expect? Pooh’s Heffalump Movie?) is the movie I was expecting to see when I first saw The Phantom Menace. It has the Star Wars universe essentials – lightsaber battles, ships being shot to pieces, jedi running amok, the works. It has a decent plotline and, unlike the previous two movies, decent writing. It is without question the best of the three prequels; if Phantom had been this good and the next two had improved still further, we’d be talking about what a masterpiece the Star Wars sextet is.

But, sadly, Phantom wasn’t this good and Revenge is not good enough to undo the damage done to the franchise. This is unfortunate because all the elements were there for Revenge to be a classic movie, better even than any of the original three. Anakin Skywalker’s fall into despair and subsequent turn to the dark side could have been a heart-wrenching, bitter tale where the audience is so drawn into the character’s anguish that they are half-ready to turn to the dark side themselves. It could have happened.

But it didn’t, because the part of Anakin was miscast from the start. Heydon is a decent actor – he did fine in Life as a House – and his performance was greatly improved compared to Clones. But he simply does not have the depth to portray Anakin’s pathos in a convincing manner. His lines are delivered like…well, like delivered lines. When he bows down to the emperor, it feels fake. The scene where Anakin gets ready to chop up the children should have been a showcase for watching his soul crumbling. Instead, we get an expressionless stare. The dark side is supposed to be about letting your passions control you; Heydon portrays no passion for anything from the mid-point of the movie on. Even his cry of “I hate you!” to Obi-wan at the end holds no emotion.

The trick to enjoying Revenge is to ignore what the characters are actually doing on the screen; instead, understand what Lucas was really trying for: The deep despair. Anakin’s feeling that he has no other choice. The turn to the dark side not only to save Padme (a clunky plot device that wasn’t really needed) but to receive power unequalled in any Jedi. Lust and despair make a great team. Project that onto the movie as you watch and pretend that Heydon is delivering his lines with a little more conviction, that he really feels what he’s saying, and you will enjoy the movie. If, on the other hand, you can’t get past the flat emoting, you won’t want to watch it more than once.