if i were queen...

edict #5331: any company that lets you sign up for an automatically renewing, annually charged service on line, that company shall be required to provide a way to terminate said service ON LINE.

kostova's the historian

with much anticipation i began reading elizabeth kostova's the historian. i'd heard quite a bit of buzz about the book. i was hoping for a chilling tale of horror and suspense, but akmost half way through now, I'm pushing on only by dint of sheer will. there's a compelling story in there somewhere, between long conversations spent at cafes (which kostova does not bother to edit for us), over-described journeys across europe, and the convenient arrival of a new character. at one point, she tries to juggle three nested stories, and the book becomes as ridiculous as a recent simpson's episode, where lisa tells marge, homer, and bart a story about mr. burns telling her a story about moe telling him a story about a treasure. in the book it's hard enough trying to keep track of the three different "i's", and the style between the three narrators is so similar it's really impossible to tell who is speaking without looking for external clues in the text. character depth and development become lost in the jumpy narrative and in kostova's eagerness to unwind the plot. like brown in writing the da vinci code, she relies on cliff hangers to create suspense and danger.

but the book has some strong points, the largest of which is the fascinating details of vlad tepes's life and some of the tension between the ottoman empire and wallachia. and it does take you on a sweeping tour of europe, at times reading almost like a guide book. it's one of those stories which it almost hurts me to read, as i am forced to speculate how good it could have been.

the book exemplifies the danger of the "i" p.o.v., which i was warned against in one of my writing books (can't recall which one, at the moment). it's much too easy to fall into "i did this, i did that". i can't help but compare to tartt's book the secret history, a rivetting tale also written in the first person. tartt manages to take less scary material and bring it to life with suspense and intrigue.
she succeeds where kostova does not because she takes you by the hand, knows just when to paint in broad strokes or zero in to sharp detail. from the get go she seizes control of the story, and hence you, the reader, drives you relentlessly towards the conclusion of the book. never once does it get out of her hand. with kostova, i get the feeling the story leaked away from her, even as she hastened to contain the spill.

messiah season has started!

every year for about 3 hours at a time i suspend my doubts and become a devout christian. the vehicle of my faith is handel's oratorio, messiah. probably handel's most famous work, i will contend it is also one of the most briliant and powerful pieces of music ever written. legend has it handel wept while the music flowed through him onto his score. When he wrote it he was indebted, depressed, desperate, but he believed, as i do, that divine inspiration guided his hand through the notes.

it's become something of a tradition for me to listen to messiah every christmas, starting the day after thanksgiving. to me, it epitomizes the beauty of all the positive aspects of that religion through the retelling ot jesus's life, in verses taken from the king james bible. but i am sad to say that after 27 years, my most treasured tribute to handel, the annual sing-it-yourself messiah put on by the san francisco conservatory of music ended last year. smaller versions of the event abound, but pale compared to the majesty of over 1,000 spectators rising to their feet in the davies symphony hall to join their voices in the chorus glory to god in the highest. it doesn't take a pious heart to be moved to tears.

this year, i shall have to content myself with sitting patiently in the audience, watching and listening to the piece unfold on stage. please forgive me, though, if i hum along to a snatch or two here and there.

i hate harry potter

i know. it's almost a sin. especially for someone who likes fantasy. i went through a period of curiosity - cool, i thought, the series so many people have been raving about. i picked up the first book. meh, thought i. well, maybe the second book was better. they are easy to read, after all, and i borrowed them from people to avoid shelling out the $8 or whatever for the paperback edition. again, meh. i continued on to read the 3rd, by this point mystified by the amount of acclaim the books were getting. now, i've slogged through 5. i experienced a brief flicker of interest with book 3, though that quickly faded.

the thing is, i just don't get it. i suppose i'm happy that kids are reading these books, that fantasy fiction has experienced a flowering, etc etc. but i can't get past the fact that the books are just so poorly written. the prose is completely flat, the pacing atrocious, but worse of all, the characters are cardboard. i don't think i could create a more insipid character than draco malfoy. and by the fifth book, harry was swinging out of control, doing things and acting in ways that i couldn't understand because there was no flow or sense to his development. he was putty in rowling's hands, doing exactly what she wanted, when it was convenient and required for her to move the plot along. okay, now harry has to be mad at hermione. now he has to be apologetic. the effect: he just doesn't make any sense.

it makes me cringe to think there is a whole group of kids growing up thinking this is the greatest stuff around. it makes me want to vomit when people compare rowling to tolkien. but worse than that, it makes me very very depressed, since it seems success as a writer has very little to do with talent or skill. but maybe i should take comfort in that. after all, who am i to presume i have either of those things?

nanowrimo 2006

yay me! i finished today, at 50900-ish words. i told ryan in a way it felt anti-climatic. not having a job is part of it. but i also remember feeling so euphoric the first time (2002?) that i finished. i swear, i was on 7th heaven, couldn't stop smiling. now, yeah, i'm happy, yeah, i feel accomplished. but that's about it.

my story has some potential. there are bits i really like. a lot of it is crap. but nanowrimo for me is like novel seeding. you get it all out, follow a story line even if it doens't feel quite right. but i've also noticed that starting stories is easy for me. i have so many scenes and characters running through my head. it's taking up the story, crafting it, and keeping it going that's the most difficult. i have such vague ideas about what my story is about. "i want to write a story about the fight against good and evil, and how the characters come to terms with the fact god is within, not something external." okay, great, but how do i make that into a story that's fun to read?

for the nerds

this periodic table, from popular sci magazine, is pretty freakin' cool.

books books books

i need help. i'm addicted to purchasing books. odd, isn't it? it's not to reading them. more than half of the books on my shelves are unread. i purchase books when i want them, thinking i'll read them "someday". well, sure enough, someday never comes around. sadly, amazon.com goes far to facilitate my addiction. a trait i share with karl rove, according to newsweek, anyway.

i tried to put a moratorium on new books, telling myself, i shall read the ones i have before i order more. but sure enough, i catch myself surfing around on amazon digging up new books to order. what can i do? i know it's hereditary - my dad had the same problem. i remember my mom getting so angry with him when he would go out ad spend $100 on new books when we couldn't even pay the electricity bill. my dad was a powerful reader, though - i suspect he read all his books. i just have the purchasing addiction. my sister, on the other hand, is the reader. how does it happen that i just have one half of that? it doesn't seem fair somehow.

anyway, my dad was fery strict about books. he would get mad at us if we put them on the floor, saying we should show respect to them. i think he'd be appalled now at my library. i have books chaotically arranged pretty much anywhere, under the bed, stuffed into my nightstand, lodged behind the bookshelves. someday i'll have to purge all of them, decide which ones to read and which ones not to read. i guess while i still have them all i can at least pretend i'm a well read intellectual.

throw it all away!

i reread some of the early chapters of my book and i was pretty tempted to throw it all away, in one dramatic sweep into the trash can. i take solace in the fact that i'm not the only writer to have felt this way. the task of rewriting feels overwhelming. all the plot threads that i left behind because i wans't quite sure about them, well, it's not time to deal with them, weave them into the fabric or just pull them out. all i can think is how long and how painful writing it the first time was - how can i possibly rewrite it now? i knew this day would come, but now that it's here, the reckoning seems much mroe than i'd anticipated.

so i've lost a little hope, and a lot of courage. i'm not going to give up. i've come too far for that. but i do feel as if i've bitten off way more than i can chew, and rather than swallow it, i'm just going to choke on it all. i don't want to compromise on my novel, but i'm so exhausted, i'm not sure i have what it takes anymore to get it up to snuff. maybe i'll let it sit and age for another 5-10 years.

so you think you know your geography?

i came across this game, the ultimate geography quiz. you're given a city name and a country, and you have to pinpoint it on the map. you can pit your wits against another person, if you dare.

geosense.

because there are no rivers, and only the largest lakes visible, it can be really tricky to pinpoint cities in some of the amorphous countries. like salt lake city.

i got to within 40 km accuracy. not bad, i guess. the game points out how woefully ignorant of all the countries in africa or those of the former ussr.

i miss latin

yes, i studied it for five years. yes, it's a dead language. no, i don't consider it a waste of time.

with my knowledge of latin i can:
1. hold a coversation with the pope, with minor changes
2. exorcise demons
3. read the aeneid

i love latin. the language is really unlike any other, even the other "romance" languages. the key to understanding and appreciating it lies in the declension. the nouns and adjectives have a different ending, specific to its role in the sentence. if its the subject it has one ending, another if it is the object or possessive - this is like english and other language pronouns, but latin also has the dative and ablative cases, indicated movement or reference to the noun, taking the place of prepositions. the result: you can scramble words around, allowing for that glorious iambic pentameter. by placing words next to each other, too, you can imply a relationship, though the adjective would technically refer to another noun. i wish i could come up with an example. i'll try to find one.

anyway, i've noticed that my study in latin affects the way i write. there are certain grammatical patterns that i've picked up and deploy. i put down a sentence and it just feels latin, the formality, the placement of the words. again, the lack of example is making my case weak here, but i'm not so good at providing on demand.

suffice it to say, the study of any language, even a dead one, is never a waste of time.

cool free games

okay, since i'm unemployed, i play games to amuse myself. also since i'm unemployed (an just 'cus i'm a penny pincher in general) i don't want to fork out a alot of dough for games.

fortunately for me, there's a wealth of free games out there! the ones i like best are browser based.

anyway, here's one of my favorites:

Psychiatrie fur misshandelte kuscheltiere.
Don't worry, there's an English translation for the game: Asylum for Abused Stuffed Animals.

This game just stole my heart. I still think about it, though it's been a good two or three weeks since I've played it. You're a psychiatrist in training, filling in for the doctor while he is on a trip, at the mental institute for mishandled stuffed animals. You're job is to rehabilitate them, by recommending treatment and slowly coaxing the past out of each of four stuffed animals, using a combination of dream therapy, drugs, play therapy, and other options. It is simply quite adorable and also poignant. I was amazed too, by the complexity that went into it, both in thought and in execution.

Bottom line: You will never look at stuffed animals the same way again.

too big for their britches?

i've noticed google's been having problems lately with their service. the chat on gmail is frequently unavailable, at least once or twice a day now, and i've been getting more server errors when i try to log into my gmail. furthermore, on sites that use google ad sense, the loading of the ads can be prohibitively slow... it's made me give up on a couple sites because the ads were taking forever to load.

i guess i can't complain too much - after all, it's all free. but it's frustrating, too. perhaps they need to invest in more hardware and infrastructure.

my darlings

"I cannot stress this enough," my professor said. Thin and wirey, with a crest of wild grey hair, she could command our attention with a lifted eyebrow or a narrow-eyed glance. "This is the most important thing you will ever learn." She dropped her voice low.

We leaned in close. This, The Secret of Writing, was what we were all here to learn.

"You must be ruthless and 'murder your darlings.'" She'd said the last words so deliciously, as if savoring every syllable, then peeled her lips back into a grin.

I thought she was crazy then. Now I'm beginning to realize how right she was. Her words aren't unique - she was quoting some famous author. Since that time I've come across those words again. When writing, we become so in love with our prose, a well crafted scene or a clever turn of words, that we fail to stay true to the bigger picture of the story. I've caught myself doing this over and over again as I rewrite my novel. I frequently find myself hemming and hawing - but, but, I love this scene, where the character does this, and it's just perfect! Then I realize it breaks the pace, it doesn't quite fit, the character's actions don't really make sense in the greater scheme of things.

I can't quite get myself to delete it, so I cheat. I make a copy of it and stick it in a folder. I can always go back to it, I tell myself. I can always copy and paste the scene or phrase in later, when it might be appropriate. I've discovered I seldom do so, however, almost always prefering the revision to the original.

Another excellent piece of writing advice handed down to me from one of my favorite editors, from his editor before him. It's the same advice a mother would give to her daughter before her big debut: put on all your jewelry, then start removing them, one by one. when you think you have just the right amount of jewelry, go back to the mirror, take a good long look, and remove one more piece.

I admit, I lay description, analogy, and metaphor on thick. Probably too much. I'd like to tone it down, so that's what I'm working on now, going through my prose, picking out the stuff that works, the stuff that doesn't, and the stuff that even though it does, is just too much. It's painful, because ultimately, writing is such a display of ego. And as my characters develop and adopt egos of their own, I discover my professor wasn't exaggerating - it really is like murder.

reasons

browsing through row upon row of new fiction, i am drawn by alluring covers - a sillouhette of a woman's face, lips parted, another black and white picture of a woman bent over to wash her hair with a hose. i wonder, how can my book compete? what can i hope to offer the reader that these sexy, evocative, and soulful titles can't?

maybe it doesn't matter. i know now why i want to write. i want to create magic, to transport the reader to a world of my imagining. this is also why, try as i might, i can't get away from fantasy fiction. i've tried writing down "straight" story lines, but i can't help it. fantasy weaves its way in. i might as well embrace it.

commercial wars

there's nothing a day-time t.v. addict such as myself enjoys more than a juicy commercial war. there are, of course, the stupid, blatant ones ("better than the other leading brand!"). but the jewels are the clever, witty ones. most recently, the geico-ais war. geico's mascot is the gecko (why he speaks with a brittish accent, i have no idea). recently, ais (auto insurance specialists) ran an ad with the tagline, "a more evolved choice," indicating their web site offers advanced options for "those with opposable thumbs." they show a picture of a gecko eating the aflac duck and a moose (elk? deer? not sure whose maskot that is).

Geico's response: so easy even the caveman can do it. i absolutely love their commercial. a caveman dressed in jeans and a hip sweatshirt is at an airport on one of those moving walkways. he passes a number of billboards, including geico's, depicting a caveman in front of a computer. the camera stops on the the image, and a moment later, the caveman comes walking back, takes a second look at the billboard, nods, and smiles.

paced to norwegian electonic-pop band röyksopp's remind me, the commercial comes off cool, collected, and clever.

temper-pedic mattress

i'm intriged... i hate my mattress. i hate mattresses in general. they wear out too quickly, they aren't exactly enviromental, and, well, i can never afford the really comfortable ones. partly because of all the commercials, i'm intrigued by the temper-pedic, the form-fitting foam. my last experience with a foam pillow was negative - it stank so badly of chemicals i had to get rid of it. the temper-pedic looks pretty comfortable.

but i have to ask... how is it for sex? its not somethign they address in the commercials, obviously, but if you're sinking into the foam... well, you can probably figure out what i'm getting at.

there's a new judge in town...

this season they've messed with some of my court t.v. shows, to which i've become addicted. i don't know why, exactly. many of the cases are repetitive (come on, how many land-lord tenant cases, or "it was a loan, not a gift" cases have i heard?) but i still enjoy watching them. much of it depends on the judge, of course, and the qualities they bring to the show. their interaction with the bailiff, too, is important to the success of the show.

the newest addition is judge maria lopez, former massachusetts supreme court justice who resigned after her conduct in a child molestation case was questioned. with a sultry, husky voice and a hot temper, i can see how she might be a perfect fit for t.v. i see her as judge marilyn milian (of the people's court) taken one step further. lopez is from cuba, milian is from puerto rico. both have brown hair, are in their late 40s/ early 50s, and are tough women. i like milian better - she doens't have a chip on her shoulder like lopez seems to (lopez can be overly aggressive, as if she feel she needs to play the role of the latina judge she's been give), whereas milian seems more compassionate, wittier, and more insightful. of all the judges, i'm most confident in milian's ability to get to the truth, whereas with the others, sometimes i wonder.

judge mathis is "one of the people". he was a juvenile delinquent, but decided to change his life around when his mother developed cancer and he had to help take care of her. he likes to tease people, making fun of them, because ultimately, it's true, coming to t.v. to solve your legal problems is a big joke. i get the feeling he experiences the success of his show with a certain amount of wryness. he also likes to say it like it is, cutting through the crap: "a person who takes a lot of crack is a crack head. what, you think i should mince words or clean it up?" he banters about with doyle, a towring, kind of goofy looking, young red-headed sheriff, who seems almost the perfect foil for mathis's hard hitting cracks. in one episode, the defendent is a hypnotherapist who claims to have made a woman in her thirties experience her first orgasm. "oh i've done that too," jokes doyle with his goofy grin (coming from anyone else it would have been crass). mathis is probably the most entertaining of the lot, and out of all of them, he makes me laugh. he puts people on the spot, helping them realize the stupidity of their ways by joking with them or teasing them, instead of lecturing them, something most of the other judges revel in.

milian, too, has a young bailiff, douglas, a tall, black man who's usually very quiet but will occassionally break into a quick grin.

judge joe brown (of texas justice) is much more of a gentleman. i get the feeling that he's a hard core republican, though he takes issues of people's sometimes bizzare and shocking alternative lifestyles gracefully in stride. he's not as interesting to watch, though he has a certain dignity. not surprisingly, he usually has a female bailiff. it used to be "miss holly", a short-haired blond in her thirties. this season it's someone new - dark haired, thin lipped - and i don't know her name (yet).

i don't like judge judy - she's a witch! she's quick to judge people and is very disdainful and snooty. occassionally she impresses me, but over all, i find myself talking back to her. "well, you dismissed his entire testimony withot even letting him finish!" or, "no, his testimony does make sense, you just didn't pay attention to what he was trying to tell you!" watching her frequently makes me either sad, because i don't see justice meted out, or just annoyed at her grating manner.

there's also judge alex, who is so incredibly boring i don't even bother with him. and "an eye for an eye", which is a little more creative - people undergo some sort of embarrasement or discomfort to make up for what they have done, rather than receiving a monetary settlement. for instance, two ladies who accused the other's cat of peeing on their car's upholstry, when neither's case could be proven, were ordered to go througha car wash together... in the end they had a good laugh through their shared misery and their friendship was restored.

judge hatchett can be fun - she's very compassionate, and her big motto is "think of the children!" she frequently sends kids out of the courtroom so they don't have to experience the unpleasantries that testimony can frequently result in. she used to be a family court judge, hearing custody, divorce hearings, or cases of parent vs. child, but since then she's expanded into all kinds of small claims.

then, of course, there's divorce court, which used to be heard by judge mabeleane ephram, but i think she has her own show now, and its lynn toler, who has a spicy attitude just like ephram had, but there's something about toler that i like better. she seems warmer, and is willing to depricate herself to make a point. in a case where a man wanted to leave his wife because she had gained 140 pounds, toler offered an anecdote: one day she was getting out of her car when she happened to look down at her thigh and noticed how big it was. she asked her husband, "honey, have i always been this big?" and her husband told her with a kiss and a smile, "you were big when i met you and you're bigger now, but i still love you." her point, the husband seeing weaknesses in his wife when he should have been looking for the weakness inside himself.

as you might imagine, i could happily watch court t.v. all day. of course, the first show, judge maria lopez, doesn's start until 10 am. but with the reintroduction of perry mason, one of my favorite shows since i was a girl, my 9-10 am block is set! i think ive probably seen most of them, at this point, but i still like watching them. and yes, i know they're fiction!

kitties

much as i like to complain about them, i adore my kitties. there are few things more heartwarming and adorable as a bundle of sleeping cats.

must. be. productive!!

or not.

i have to say, the episode entitled "Mr. F" in season 3 of Arrested Development (nicknamed "AD" in our household)is one of the most brilliant moments in t.v. and comedy. it had me literally holding my sides with laughter, not just on the first watching, but on the second as well (and alcohol was only involved in one of the viewings). i admit when i started watching the season i was a little dissappointed - it was slow to get off the ground. but i remember now that's the genius of the show. it takes a while to set itself up and then *kaching*! it cashes in all the jokes. Mr F was one of those payoff episodes. theres so much double meaning and so many puns that aren't cliche, but are so artfully executed. the whole bit with the japanese business men and tiny town was just pure gold (this part, of course, is why i loved the episode so much).

that's all. too bad it's canceled. sigh. well, genius is frequently misudnerstood in its time!

wino.... er, wineaux

in other news, the east bay express has introduced a column on wine. they've tried to coin the term wineaux, to describe people who have decent taste don't want to spend a lot of money. i guess we'll see if it sticks. being a spendthrift myself, i hem and haw over any bottle more than $10. yes, some more expensive bottles are better, but frankly, i don't want to spend that much on wine.

the column also seeks wines that are readily available (did you know costco is now the #1 wine cellar?) including at albertson's, safeway, and bev mo. i'm dissappointed they didn't at least mention oddlots - after all, it's a local paper, and at oddlots, virtually every bottle is around $10 or less. that, and the fact that they called 2-$ chuck drinkable brings a little suspicion to my mind. cheap as it is, i do not really consider that wine worth the $2!

time to pimp fall

i felt the whisper of fall last week as i was walking in the berkeley hills. today, i'm sure of it - fall is here. i wonder what triggers the knowledge - is the light just oblique enough for me to sense? or perhaps it's that heat in the air, twinged with a cool breeze. i can almost taste the pumpkin lying orange in the golden fields.

and, of course, there are the stores, already pimping fall. ryan often laments this. they lure us in with halloween. once you buy into that, of course you ahve to continue with thanksgiving, then christmas, then new years. it even drags on to valentine's day. now, ive noticed more general, harvest themed decorations in the stores already. when will it end? i'm surprised hallmark hasnt devised some "happy harvest!" cards that we're all supposed to send out! harumph.

i do celebrate the autumn equinox, however, with a special feast. i forget what i did last year... probably nothing, since i was in school in santa cruz. this year will be something special, if i can manage it!

I remember you

"God never calls us to do what we are capable of doing on our own. He calls us to do the impossible."
~ TMP, March 1946 - August 26, 2003

crack!

i think i experienced something of a breakthrough in yoga the other day. i'd been suffering from a tightness in the upper vertebrae of my back (something i inherited from my father). there's one stretch that we do where we lean forward, interlace our fingers, and bring our arms over our heads. well, i could only move mine a few inches above my back without experience a great deal of resistence. i kept at it, and then a few days ago, i tried it, and crack! i could feel my back crack, four times in a row. when i straightened i felt taller, the tightness was gone.

sadly, back cracking is addictive. though it's still much looser than it was, i feel i have to crack it every day now for it to feel right. but damn, it feels good!

a little help here, universe!

a few crucial things have fallen apart for me recently, nothing serious or dire, but things i've relied upon more than i at first realized. i've cast out my fishing lines for more opportunities, but they've come back empty, the lures untouched. i suppose lulls in life are to be expected, but it's frustrating, when you feel as if you're putting the energy out there and it's just dissapating into thin air.

back and to the left, back and to the left, back...

Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory Scienists cite new evidence to challenge the "single bullet theory" in the assassination of JFK, according to Betsy Mason's article in the Contra Costa Times.

trouble with time

i swear the space time continuum is bubbling and warping around me... last night i made popovers, set the timer to bake according to the recipe i've used time and time again. well, they were nearly burned well before the time passed on my timer (and yes, i set both the oven temp and timer correctly).

now, today, time. is. so. f-ing. slow!

ryan tate, anglophile

a witty commentary from ryan tate on his new favorite paper, the financial times (at least, the weekend edition).

i love it when all my mussels open

yesterday i made one of ryan's and my favorite dishes - pasta with mussels and white wine with parsley and garlic. it's such a simple dish, but i love the aroma that wafts into your face when you open the lid of the pan and take in that delicious ocean smell. and last night, perfectly, every singld mussel had opened.

ads

i'm sorry, i absolutely love the new milk commercials featuring the aliens and Da Iry. corny, i know, but it never fails to get a chuckle out of me.

on the other hand, the ford? gm? commercial where the man is singing some terrible song on a light up stage is just so pathetic (i'm not even going to try to find an on line version of that). leave it up to jetta, who recognize their market tends towards young and hip, to burst out of the pack with their startling crash commercials. I personally don't like these commercials - the last thing we need is sensationalization of ads - but i do appreciate their shock value.

not sure breakfast helps

having heard, ad nauseum, that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, i've made it a point to eat some before i leave the house. usually cereal and fruit or yogurt and granola and fruit.

i'm not sure it really helps. in fact, i think it makes me even hungrier. the cereal i eat is whole grain, hippie cereal, so i don't think it's a blood sugar spike issue. but not it's 10:30, i ate about 2 hours ago, and i'm so famished i feel as if i could eat my fist!

at least two more hours until lunch... sigh...

harumph

i thought macs were supposed to be more stable than pcs. well, this is the second os-x mac to crash on me.

okay, mac bashing will end now. i promise.

lessons learned

1. i do much better with deadlines. in fact, i'm almost worthless without them.

2. i really do not like macs. sorry, mac loving friends (you know who you are!)

see, high energy physics are good for something

here's a neat project from slac (oh, sorry, did i go all acronym? it's the stanford linear accelerator): the stanford synchotron radiation lab is using x-ray beams to decipher archimedes's ancient writings.

apparently, archimedes's works had been vandalized:

In the 10th century, an anonymous scribe copied Archimedes' treatises in the original Greek onto the parchment. But three centuries later, a monk "palimpsested" the parchment: he scraped away the Archimedes text, cut the pages in half, turned them sideways, and copied Greek Orthodox prayers onto the recycled pages. Adding further injury, forgers in the early 20th century painted religious imagery on several pages in an attempt to elevate the manuscript’s value. The result was the near obliteration of Archimedes' work, except for the faintest traces of ink still embedded in the parchment.

inheritance

my father was a fanatic about clean fingernails. he'd inspect them at dinner time and if they weren't clean enough, he'd send us back to the bathroom. i remember one time he pinned me down by the sink and took a nail brush to my nails, scrubing them to his satisfaction. clean fingernails commanded respect. dirty fingernails signaled a degenerate personality.

consequently, i'm super concious of my nails. the thing is, they get dirty so quickly. i usually clip them very short to avoid having the white parts get dirty or stained. i remember one time i used fresh tumeric for a recipe and was so ashamed of my nails i kept my hands in my pocket or my fingers tucked in whenever i could.

i guess i'd be a good candidate for a french manicure, if i could tolerate someone else fiddling with my nails (to me that's almost as bad as squeaking styrofoam). today, i'm wishing i'd given them a good scrub before i left the house. or trimmed them a little more. but a good nail brush is hard to find. my dad used boar bristles, but he had some sort of heirloom. boar bristles aren't so common any more - at least i've not managed to find one. most modern nail brushes are too soft or too stiff.

hopelessness

people tell me everything will be okay but i just can't see it. day after day, it's such a struggle, putting words together, putting the little steps together to form life. i've heard it a thousand times before, take it one step at a time, focus on just the next thing that needs to happen. but if we lose sight of the whole, what then? there's got to be something to work towards,right? something whole and worthy and good and not just a composite of all the little things day to day that we struggle to do. somehow i thought when i turned thirty i would be okay. but there's no guarantee of anything. there's no guarantee anything, ever, will be okay. when i should be reaching out i find myself simply retreating further and further away.

focus, focus

(obviously, i'm having problems today)

i sincerely believe anything is possible if we focus. focus is both a product of and an aggregator of will power (creating a positive feedback loop). the more will power we have, the stronger it is, the more we can exert that will power onto the world (through prayer, magic, whatever you choose to call it) and affect events.

but it all comes down to focus. i've got to learn how to discipline my mind. exercise is good for that. so is yoga. and meditation.

save yourselves!

normally, i'm not a doomsayer. i didn't stockpile duct tape and plastic or whatever we were supposed to have. we've only recently started a collection of "apocalypse food." but a recent conference, summarized in oakland tribune article, concerns me. regardless of the chances of bird flu arriving in the unites states (and depending on who you talk to its either a remote possibility or a sure thing) the take home message is the same: we are on our own. the goverment will not help us. and after the disaster in new orleans, i'm not sure we would want their assistance.

i'm not advocating panic or paranoia. i'm still skeptical as to whether the virus will be a problem or not. but it's a matter of analyzing the costs and benefits. though the chances might be slim, the outcome could be pretty devastating, preparation is a minimal investment, so better to be safe than sorry.

...

"and every day you gaze upon the sunset
with such love and intensity
it's almost...it's almost as if
if you could only crack the code
then you'd finally understand what this all means

but if you could...do you think you would
trade in all the pain and suffering?
ah, but then you'd miss
the beauty of the light upon this earth
and the sweetness of the leaving."

~ Jane Siberry

diction

Pippin: "I didn't think it would end this way..."

Gandalf: "End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path...One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all change to silver glass... And then you see it."

Pippin: "What? Gandalf? ...See what?"

Gandalf: "White shores...and beyond... the far green country under a swift sunrise."

Pippin: "Well, that isn't so bad."

Gandalf: "No...No it isn't."

Excerpted from the movie but the crucial phrases, of course, are all Tolkien's.

I've become extremely conscious of word choices recently. A good thing, I assure you. For example, in the previous sentence, is "extremely" necessary? Does it add anything? i think the answer is no. it adds an element of degree, but not much else. I'm learning a few well-chosen adjectives or just the right verb bring writing to life. And there's a certain art to passing on your meaning with as few words as possible, laying each one down with deliberate and precise meaning. Of course, one must balance leanness with rhythm and pacing, and sometimes that extra adjective just makes the sentence flow right - without it, the phrase would seem stilted and incomplete. I think most writers would agree grace should trump any grammatical rule.

Tolkien's phrases send shivers down my spine. In such few words, he evokes powerful emotion and imagery. How long did he sit and ponder his choices, trying diffent combinations until they rang true? Here's the original passage from the book:

And it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.

Grey to silver is a clever transition. Nearly the same colors, but each carries unique connotations. "Was rolled back" - passive voice, which we're taught - ad nauseum - to avoid, but deliberate here, implying events beyond Frodo's control (and again, for grace. Can you imagine rewriting this into active tense?). "White shores" is just beautiful. One could argue "far" is redundant. After all, if it's beyond, wouldn't it be far? But "far green country" is more graceful than simply "green country", and we realize here that "far" might convey more than just physical distance, but spiritual, too. And finally, "swift", the adjective that brings motion to the entire sentence.

(okay, better go back to work...)

six feet under

what is it about this show that just leaves you feeling empty inside? after we watch an episode, ryan and i just sit on the couch in silence, trying to reabsorb life. i started watching in the third season and got hooked. it's not that much better than a soap opera, but the characters are more real and quirkier and the storytelling compelling and creative. we stopped cable after season 4, so for the last year we've been hanging, desperately avoiding all spoilers. now, finally ,we've started watching the last season.

its strange that the show can be so addictive and yet so annoying at the same time. i swing from muttering in disgust and disdain at the characters and their stupidy, to clutching the couch cushions, thinking, oh no, poor nate!

at the same time, it makes me so happy for my relationship. i mean, heck, the people in the show are _dys_functional. by watching them do everything wrong, it shows me how we are doing everything, well, not completely right, but at least better than they are. the emptiness comes from witnessing people in relationships not act out of love and respect but out of resentment, fear, and anger.

if i were sony, i'd be pissed

popular science magazine titled sony's new e-reader "an ipod for your books".

at any rate, it's pretty interesting technology, though it can't compare to having a magazine or book to flip through on bart (which is something i'm getting used to now that i'm a working stiff!).

this is life?

so this is the 9-5 club i've been scrambling to join. while i was in school, i could think of nothing better than having a manageable, predictable work schedule, no homework hanging over my head, no hours until infinity. but now... well, the grass really is greener on the other side of the fence.

where's the time for life? in the mornings, by the time i get up, get ready for work, it's time to go. in the evenings, i come home, unwind for an hour or two (or more likely do chores and errands, like cleaning the house, shopping for dinner, etc). then i make dinner, and by the time we eat and clean up, look at the time! it's 10 p.m.! off to bed (we're both 30 or over now, after all), maybe to read or write for an hour or so, and then, that's it.

that's it?? and then on the weekends, we try to squeeze in the stuff we couldn't do during the week. more shopping for groceries, catching up on sleep, gardening, all the miscellaneous tasks.

the only way i can find to get more time is to sleep less (difficult to do) or make the days longer (impossible to do).

at least with school, i had one day off. of course, that was filled with stuff to do, or if i wasn't doing my homework, i was certainly stressing about it!

borrowed time

there are times when i want nothing more than to move out of this house. the windows that i put in with an ex trap me inside, yielding only dusty, cobweb strewn glimpses of the world outside. The walls crawling with mold and the leaking roof remind me i'm living beyond my means in a house i can't afford to keep. i've spent too long on borrowed time, letting the house depreciate little by little with deferred maintenance.

my sister says the house is a leash that binds me with responsibility. the rooms are packed with stuff that's not mine, but left here over the years by the residents that have come and gone. i've never decorated, never fully made this place mine.

now my hand might soon by forced. my sister doesn't want to keep the house, and while i'm conflicted, i don't feel i have the right to convince her otherwise. part of me aches like muscles stiff with stillness. at last, i think, i will be free. i'm itching to start a life with my dearest love.

but then my eye travels along the redwood fence, now silvered, that i built using only hand tools (i was too scared of the power tools to use them) and my mind lingers on the kitty graveyard on the side of the house, which holds the cats that have lived her as long as i have and i think of the cats living now, who know no other home.

the roses are in bloom now, i see. Lascivious and voluptuous things, their thorny stems sagging with the weight of their pendulous blossoms. I clip some and bring them inside, where their heady scent penetrates the room, and i remember how my mother would lean up on tiptoe with her slight frame, close her eyes, and smell them.

"oh annie," she would say. "don't they smell wonderful?"

how can i give up those roses? how i can i ever entrust them another's care?

argh

how do i write something when i have absolutely no idea on how to write it? they always say, go with your instinct, what's interesting about something. well, i do think it's interesting, but there's nothing that new - my article is about a blogger. come one, people have been blogging for a while. true, this guy is interesting, but how do i convey that without dipping too far into touchy feely, definitely non-newsy writing?

a little advice

i overheard a snipped of advice passed between a professor and a medical student that i felt i could take to heart, too. the student was young, obviously very highly motivated and driven. she was explaining how she wanted to do all these things, study abroad, complete med school, finish some research, etc etc. the professor took her by the arm and sat her down.
"now, what is your goal?" he asked.
"i want to be a neurosurgeon," she responded without pause.
"no no, what is your goal?"
she stared at him blankly.
shaking his head, he said, "you want to happy when you're 65. _that_ is your goal."

i think this might be the key to life- to obtain and keep that kind of perspective.

them's crazy folk

a member of indy media spoke to us in class today about the role of "anarchist" journalism. i'm still puzzling over that word - it wasn't something he could really put his finger on either. something like anti-corporate, anti-capitalist, anti-government. but just a quick glance through the site proves that's not the case, clearly. not anti-goverment- in fact, indy media rages against the _lack_ of government regulations in many areas - environmental protection and social justice, for starters.

i would like to suggest "grassroots" journalism as an alternative. by the people, for the people. no corporate media. i'm impressed. there is clearly a role for such an organization. when an event happens, a protest, demonstration, these people are on the street, taking pictures, taking videos, recording people's voices. journalists at big-time papers get stories from the site. our professor, a star ap press reporter, confronted a mayor at a demonstration that denied allegations of police brutality with images clearly showing the opposite.

the indy media guy that spoke to us made no bones about it - the content is not edited for content or checked for accuracy. in away, that's cool. it's completely raw, unshaped. in another way, that's not so cool. it's pretty easy to fake something. hopefully no one is getting their news only from that organization or they are likely to have a very skewed perspective of the world. the content is pretty self editing- it's way left, and not a lot in between.

he threw around some orwellian phrases as well which i wish i could remember or had written down. let's just say i raised my eyebrow a few times. he kept trying to recruit us, too. while i see the value in what he and those like him do and apreciate it, i envision for myself a different role in journalism entirely.

things to do

here's my new agenda. it's filled with nice things. things that make me happy. things to look forward to in the near future.

1. first and foremost, kissing Ryan
2. horseback riding lessons
3. kung-fu classes
4. yoga classes with Jane
5. finishing my book, rewriting, then pitching it.
6. getting involved in video productions
7. working on the cheesediaries (i know, it looks like i've abandoned the site, but i haven't. it's just percolating!)

apologies...

dear faithful readers,

i'm sorry your comments haven't shown up- i guess i turned on some function and i had to moderate comments before they would show up. i was rather sad when i thought no one was commenting, and now i realize, you were all there, all along. i'm so glad to have you.

and now, on with the posts!

the saddest thiing to me about school is that i haven't wanted to cook, i'm usually too busy or too tired. ryan has been wonderful, taking extra care to make food for us. his creations are wonderful, tasty, innovative, and i love having him cook all the time. but cooking is also a way for me to demonstrate my love and to express my creativity, and the thing is, i really miss it. everytime i try to cook, though, i lack ideas.i've begun to rely on recipes, something i've seldom done in the past. i've begun to hate going to the stores without a list while before, i used to wander down the isles, picking whatever caught my fancy and putting menus together on the spot.

read read read, write write write, faster faster faster!!

those are the words the director of my journalism program passed on to us as the key to success in the field. i've only now come to understand the truth of it.

reading- you've got to keep up with what's going on in the world and you have to be on the look out for potential story ideas. if you're a freelancer, you've got to find out what publications are out there, what's been published already, what has room for a story for you to pitch.

writing- this goes without saying. in jobs, there's just a million stories to crank out. in freelancing, you're paid by the word, so the faster you type them, the more money you make. (the average ap reporter can type 100 words a minute).

making it fast- there's not enough time to do everything, but so much to do. so you really have to do everything as efficiently and as quickly as you can.

i keep waffling between freelance, featurey stuff and daily journalism. there's more room for style and creativity in feature articles, but there's a certain joy and empowerment that comes from knowing your beat, knowing your community.

friendships

i often wonder what i'm doing wrong with friendships. friends seem to fade so quickly from my life. i've never had that many, and the ones i do have i have a hard time keeping. i've considered the self-fullfilling prophecy phenomenon, that is, that i think they'll lose interest so then sooner or later, they do. but it makes me sad. i don't want to keep feeling as if i have to try try try all the time. when do i get comfortable with people? when do i know i'll have a friend for life? is such a think even possible?

since i've started school i feel as if i've lost a lot of friends. part of it is lifestyle differences- many of them are undergoing major changes in their life, and certainly school has taken up a lot of my time. but i always took it for granted then when i was done with school i could just pick up with them and resume where we left off. now, i'm not so sure. they've moved on, stopped including me in their lives, stopped taking an interest in mine. and it leaves me to wonder, what did we ever have, if it is lost so quickly?

marshmallows

yea, i'll admit it. i'm the girl that would eat both marshmallows at once. i don't have any self control, it's hard for me to think about long term investment, and i'd trade off instant gratification because i have little trust in long term payoffs.

it's a concept called emotional intelligence, popularized by daniel goleman in this book. emotional intellignece is a concept most commonly illustrated as what happens when you put a marshmallow on a child's desk and tell them that they are welcome to eat the marshmallow now, if they want to, but if they wait five minutes without eating the marshmallow, they can have two marshmallow. studies have shown that the kids who wait are the ones who succeed in school, tend to be more popular, are happier, and ultimately succeed in life.

so i guess i'm doomed. i get frustrated easily because i do want everything now. it's not greed, it's the inability to see into the future, to invest in myself. why should i? my whole live i've seen that i need to get things while i can, because people die, circumstances change, money and opportunities are lost. it's so hard for me to envision success in the long term because i have no assurance that i will be here in the long term.

hence learning is frustrating, because all of that is about thinking about the future and investing in yourself.

craft of story telling

i know i writer who likes to be satisfied as a reader. everything should be laid out for her, explained in detail, every scene closing neatly and completely.

i guess i'm a bit more chaotic. for me, the art of writing, the style and the craft of telling the story is yet another opportunity to manipulate the reader. if a scene feels unfinished sometimes it's because, yeah, i was sloppy, but other times it's because i want the reader to feel unsettled and unnerved. i don't want to break the pace of the arc by lingering too long at the end. and yes, i could have slowed the pace to linger in that moment, the most crucial moment of the chapter, but i don't want to becuase for the characters, it's unsatisfying.

my writing buddy has also been urging me to put more emotion into my characters. i realize sometimes they are rather distant, but other times, i like them that way. to a certain extent, the reader has to call upon their own experience to empathize. everyone has been jilted by a lover, an many have experienced that moment where they know their partner has cheated on them. sure, i'll show you how my character gets angry and sad or whatever, but to a certain extent, if the reader has sympathy for the character, they are going to feel it, anyway.

i've also noticed that people create rules about writing. show, don't tell, stay in one perspective, avoid adjectives and adverbs, etc. etc. but many of the great books i know break this rule constantly. tolkein, for starters. and tom wolfe, even john irving. in other words, it's okay. it's all about the art and craft of story telling.

most unsatisfying

nothing is better than a nap. you know, the kind where you wake up with drool on your cheek because you were sleeping so deeply. there's something indulgent, and uniquely refreshing about a nap, stolen in the middle of the day.

on the other hand, there is nothing worse than when you really really want to nap, but you can't. your eyes are droopy, you're suffering from food-coma, so you snuggle into your bed, anticipating a delicious sleep. but the buzzing in your head won't go away. sleep begins to settle, but like a defective sneeze, the sweet release into dreamland that you're seeking never quite comes to fruition. so you're left, like a refrigerator whose light won't go off when the doors closed, hovering just beyond the realm of refreshment.

finally, you give up, cranky and tired as ever. only now, your hair is all messed up.

flies

i hate flies. there's three of them, circling, circling, circling in my living room. i'm not quite sure where they came from. the windows are usually closed, and even when open, they have screens.

at least these aren't the noisy flies. and they're getting slower- they must be dying soon.

i'm giles

i can definitely live with that.

Rupert Giles 63% amorality, 45% passion, 72% spirituality, 63% selflessness

Utterly calm and resolute in the face of danger, utterly devoted to his loved ones and comrades in arms, and utterly willing to do what is necessary to ensure that good overcomes evil. Giles knows the score, he knows that sometimes virtue relies on good men getting a little messy, and he's willing to take that on himself, largely so that others don't have to. You might share some of that. You most closely resemble one of the most popular heroes in the Buffy universe. Congratulations! If you enjoyed this test, I would love the feedback! Also, you might want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in the following: Nerds, Geeks & Dorks Professional Wrestling Love & Sexuality America/Politics Thanks Again! -- THE 4-VARIABLE BUFFY PERSONALITY TEST

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 54% on morality You scored higher than 11% on repose You scored higher than 72% on spirituality You scored higher than 78% on selflessness

Link: The 4-Variable Buffy Personality Test written by donathos on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

i need a google function for my house

wouldn't it be great if all our items had rfids? then, when i'm looking for a specific book, i could just log onto my computer and run a google "my house" search on "keys". And a map of my house would show up, with my keys marked with a big balloon.

it's amazing how technology has changed the way we think.

blog junkie

so many blog ideas... so little time! i tease ryan all the time because he has a fetish for collecting domain names. i think he's finally pared them down a bit but he had quite a few (40 was it? am i exaggerating?)

but i'm a blog junkie. i love blogs. i use them like clothing, start one out, see how it feels. each one would reflect a different part of me, and i could click through them, like surveying the clothes in my closet.

crossing into the red

i've crossed into the red in three ways - one, i haven't paid my tuition yet because i don't have the money, hence, i've dipped into the red ink of debt. second, i'm interning at a public information office, dangerously close to public relations, the dark side of professional writing, to hear journalists tell it. and three, i'm working for the arch-enemy of my alma mater. those of you who know where i went to undergrad can figure it out.

so far, working for a public information office is fun, and frankly, i feel like i've learned more about journalism than i ever have at a newspaper. why? because people actually sit down and talk to me. within my first week i'd received more feedback about my writing than i had in five months of working at newspapers. all too often, editors seem just anxious to get the story and be done with it, so little mentoring is offered. so it's refreshing to know that people are actually aware you exist.

don't get me wrong, i miss newspapers. the hustle and bustle, the by-the-seat-of-your-pants comraderie, the endearing haphazardness, compared to the relatively well-oiled machine of an official communications office. and already, having to push the company line is annoying. people want to fix your stories, change their quotes. your ass, in other words, is theirs. you don't have a story - they do. your job is just to write it. that, and the kinds of stories you can do are pretty limited becuase they have to feature, obviously, the company you work for in some way or form.

but now i have a crystal clear knowledge of how information is transmitted. i've always wondered who writes those press releases. now i know. and it's kind of fun. i look at it as being an news assistant. everybody has a story inside them. we are all intricate, multi-layered beings, and my job is to tell their story.

not ready!

i'm not ready to go back to school yet! in fact, i missed my first day - it was supposed to be today, but i completely blanked out and thought it started thursday. i looked through the syllabus that my cohorts sent me. is it possible that i feel this stressed out before the first week of school already??
argh!

fat

... i am!
yes, it's true. much as my adoring boyfriend will deny it, it's time i faced the fact. i am overweight. the stress and time limitations of the past year have pushed me over the edge of deniability. none of my clothes fit me anymore. it's kind of depressing. no more excuses, i've got to move exercise up to the top of my priority list!

on another note, i will be _so_ glad when this low-rise craze if over. frankly, i'm tired of seeing everyone's asses hanging out of their pants. and with the popularity of thong underwear... it just makes me shudder. i don't need someone's butt crack smilingback at me.

seeking something

i've been lacking something in my life lately, a sense of higher purpose, maybe. my nose has been to the grindstone too long, i need to look out, gain some perspective. i've been feeling this way ever since my mom passed away a couple of years back. the sense of loss is profound and irrecoverable. true, time makes it less acute, but the pain and the emptiness are still there, the abyss is still there, unable to be closed or filled.

in the meantime, i've gotten indolent, unmotivated. in my school program, i'm just barely making it by. why? because i have a hard time convincing myself that i care about anything, about life, about living, about progress. on some level, i do know that i care, and there are brief moments when the clouds part and a ray of light shines down and i see, clearly, a bright future glimmering in the distance. and then the mist closes around me and i feel lost again, blundering through the world, blind beyond the sight of my two hands.

it's a difficult situation to be in. i need to discipline myself, regain some of the will power that i've lost. some one once told me, "make your word count." i want to stand by that. i want to be able to say i'm going to do something, and then do everything i can to make it happen. i'm so far from that now that my word is a flimsy piece of foil that tears and crumbles easily with the slightest disturbance. but your word is the most direct link between thought and deed. if you want to pray for something, you have to earn, make the universe understand you deserve it, by first following through on your word.

move over, ny

more proof that we shouldn't be living in NY's food shadow any longer:

Bay Area nabs lion's share of Beard award nominations.

i don't have anything intelligent to post...

i just feel like writing something, anything undirected. i feel strange, a little hollow maybe - i can't quite put my finger on it. i've been thinking about the passage of time, growing older. and dreams, of course. dreams have to be good for something, right? they are powerful gifts bestowed on us by our subconscience. i can't ignore them, but i can't make sense of them in the light of day. so i incorporate them into my fiction. all my book ideas either stem from or contain a dream.

maybe that's why i like writing fantasy?

i have issues with reality

ryan and i finished watching one of my (if not my ultimate) favorite t.v. series _ever_, bablyon 5.

i cried, of course. i hate saying good bye. for the last 5 seasons, i've shared sorrow, joy, and triumph with the members of this space station. but more than that, at the end of the journey, i;m left feeling empty and lost. i will never be a hero like captain sheridan. i will probably never sacrifice my life for love or my country. i will never have to fight so tenaciously for my beliefs. so... what's there in life worth living for?

i know it sounds extreme. and it's not that i don't feel the value in my life, because i do. but on some level, i know i'm always going to end up little short. because the ruler i'm using doesn't have real markings on it - it's a fantastical ruler, and it stretches on forever.

sigh

okay, now i'm just procrastinating. i know it. you know it.

happiness is...

fiction writing. the more i do the other kind, the more i realize my heart lies in writing fiction. and no, it's not just because i get to make up facts, rather than having to seek them out!

i think i naturally have a fantastical mind. when my sister and i were kids, our papa would tell us tales after dinner, sometimes scary, sometimes funny, but always imaginative. in our room i remember we had a picture of a boy and a girl sleeping, and from their heads spilled images of knights, strange animals, explorers, boats, wars... and he would draw elaborate maps, a habit that both jane and i carry with us to this day.

i guess i like writing fiction because it reminds me of being a kid. i love taking real life things and seeing if i can give them a twist of sorts.

confusion

i;ve gotten confused with my writing lately. part of it is that i've lost some of my focus. but more than that, i feel as if i've got too much instruction in a way. my instinct for writing is gone, at least for now. i hope it comes back because i'm lost without it. i stumble around, trying one phrase after another, or sit in front of my computer wondering where the story is, and why i can't seem to find it and write about it.

it's alarming, really. and it's happened with my fiction work, too. i no longer feel like i know how to tell a tale. am i giving too much emotional reacitona bout my chaacter? is he philosophizing too much? am i firmly enough in his perspective, or am i floating somehwere above his head?

it's disconcerting. i hope it's a sign that i'm getting better as a writer, ut i'm not so sure. as long as i felt that my writing was bad, i felt that i was improving. but now, i just simply don't know. my judgement has vanished. i'm thrusting around with my pen, hoping somehow i'll manage to hit the paper and make my mark.

my new hobby

i'm not sure how it happened, but i've been getting into sports lately. it started out with a 49er game ryan and i went to last fall. at first i was very skeptical. i went because the tickets were free (though it turned out we had to pay $25 for parking!!!). i sat down with my free beer (provided by ryan's work, another incentive), arms crossed, a deliberately bored expression on my face. gradually, the game got into my skin. i started caring about what happened. and that was the beginning, and the end of it.
this weekend, i watched the nba all star game. and, well, i liked it. ahem.
but the point of my post is actually that destiny's child is simply amazing. during the all star game they sang the national anthem which, as anyone who has sung it knows, is incredibly challenging. it's got an extreme range and a good deal of notes to hold. but they sang it simply flawlessly, each note perfectly in tune, synchronized as if they were singing from one voice.
amazing.

writing binge

i knocked out almost four chapter in the last two days. maybe it's because i'm procrastinating my school work, but writing fiction has just come so easily for me recently. sure, it's a rough draft. sure, it's still got hours and hours to go before they are even close to being finished. but hey, they're written, sketched out, which is much more than i can say for some of my other projects.

including the durn 2,500-word article i'm suppose to have for school by next tuesday!!

which "lost" character are you?

heh! my fav character, too.


You are Locke. A mystery within a mystery. You're

a fountain of backgammon trivia and an expert

with knives. You might like pina coladas and

definitely like getting caught in the rain.

You prefer keeping to yourself mostly, but

you'll tell your secrets to the right person.

Are you evil? Your accompanying soundtrack

sure is sinister.


Which Lost Character Are You?
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okay, so seriously, of all the characters, locke is the most compelling to me. don't read on if you don't want spoilers!

the others have all done something wrong in their lives, are are inadequate in some way. charlie - er, sorry- jack has issues with his father, and probably with his wife, too (i haven't gotten that far yet). Kate, well, she's got a lot of issues - she's on the lam, for starters, and killed her best friend through carelessness, and sawyer is just, well, "screwed up" comes to mind. Even Saiid (spelling?) has something going on - he's responsible for the death of one of his close friends. they've all got some heavy burden to bear, some way that they are inadequate.

but not locke. he's different. he's there for a purpose, you see, and that purpose is to drive the other's development. in a way, he's the shaman, where the others are the vision questers. granted, this may change in the next season - i've only just finished season 1.

i also sympathize with locke. like him, i feel like i was put on this planet ill equipped to handle "ordinary" life. all my interests, many of my skills would be useful in a post-apocalyptic world. i think i could survive on an island, even kick some ass, if i dare say so myself.

blog hunger

okay, i really miss blogging. i have another blog but because of server issues i can't post to it until i figure out what's going on. and that could take forever.

i found a song the other day that i had lost 10 years ago. i loved the song, used to play over and over, and then one day, i misplaced the song and i couldn't find it again. see, i thought it was recorded on a certain tape, and when i listened to that tape years later, it no longer had the song. i figured i had accidentally recorded over the song (though somewhere deep inside i was convinced this was not so!!)

then my cd player in my car broke down, so i scrounged up a bunch of old tapes from storage. as i was driving to santa cruz the other day, i popped a random tape into my car's cassette player. and there was the song. i was flabbergasted, overjoyed. how had that happened? it seemed like a gift of serendipity.

anyway, the song isn't as good as i remembered it being. wouldn't you know it!

what up?

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