To Serve Men

I like to cook stuff and I like to watch cooking shows. This, inevitably, leads me to want to cook almost everything I see on TV.

I don't, of course. My kitchen has no room. The counter-space in nonexistent. To do any real chopping I use a table thing on wheel my mom bought for me about six months after I move up. It's not perfect (and it now has a box fan on it), but it works.

Still, I can't really do, at least well, the things I see on TV. I don't have a food processor or blender, see the no room thing, since I don't even have cupboard space to store them, nor do I have a standing mixer. Someday, though, I will. I'll have room and some of the simpler gadgets that aren't necessary, but really great to have.

Anyway, yesterday I was watching Rick Bayless's show on PBS. He was making carnitas. First he used pork and then he used duck.

My entire being wanted to rush out to and buy a boston butt, or two, and start roasting. I didn't. I mean, what would I do with that much meat. I couldn't eat it and my fridge/freezer isn't very large.

His food looked so good. I swear I could smell it through the TV.

In the end, as with, it seems, every episode of his show, he had a dinner party to serve what he cooked to his friends and family.

And here's where the "dream" (for lack of a better word) falls apart, for me. I want to cook the large quantities of food. I want to roast the boston butt, cook massive amounts of chicken and rice over an open fire on a giant metal platter, and bury a whole pig in a pit to cook all day. I want to do that and I want other people to eat it and enjoy it. I just don't want to be with people as they eat and talk and whatever.

Yeah, I want to do everything that Mr. Bayless does on his show. Except for that last part. I could do without that.

Here's Something:

Apparently, it's so ingrained in me that I am an asshole, that I'm an asshole even in my dreams.

All this week, I've made people I care about cry, in my dreams. Three different people in three different dreams last night.

And, in my dreams, I revel in my asshole-ish-ness. In my dreams, I enjoy being an asshole to the people I care about.

Of course, it probably doesn't help that I've spent a large portion of the last two weeks obsessing over an e-mail I sent out about 23 months ago. Yeah, now that's healthy.

Dear Friend,

Since I'm going to be __ ______ on ___ _______ and you're going to be having ____ ________ a bit later __ ___ _____, I've been thinking about ____ __ ___ ___.

It's been hard.

So hard, in fact, that went back and skimmed almost everything you've blogged. And you've been blogging for a while.

I need an ____, though.

The problem is that we're adults, you know. Not just adults, but adults who are __________ ______-_____. You can pretty much go out and ___ ____ you ____, you know?

And then there's the fact that you have ____. You put ____ first, which is the way it should be. Still, you fill your ______ ________ with thing that you ____ ___ ____. But what do ___ ____?

I thought I'd get some ideas by reading what you were thinking _____ _____ ___. You were thinking things that I was thinking, which isn't _________ _ ___ ___ ___.

See, the problem is that I ____ __ ___ you _________ ___________. Something _________. My first idea fell though. You ____ ___.

I'm sure I'll figure something out. I usually do.

Your pal,

ticknart

Transparent Eyeball?

Have you ever had a moment of realization where you know, KNOW, something, good or bad or neutral, with complete and utter certainty? How did you feel? Relieved? Good? Bad? Confused?

I had one, a neutral one, about forty or fifty minutes ago while responding to an e-mail from my brother.

I've been awash with a million variation of nearly every emotion since then. It's almost overwhelming. My head feels stuffed with cotton or wool.

It's doubtful that anything good will come and I'm not sure if knowing is good. It's just what it is.

The Return

This morning TMSV went around asking people, "What's the good news?"

All I could think of was, "Jesus is coming back!"

I didn't say anything, though.

Nothing and Death

Time is encroaching on me. Soon my workday will be over and then I will not have time to write this. Not that I have any sort of goal in mind as I start tapping my chubby fingers on the keyboard. Whatever, right?

There was some sad news this morning. Harvey Pekar died. He was the guy who wrote the American Splendor comics. He also co-starred in the movie based on the comics. The best post that I've read about him today is this one here. I haven't read nearly enough of Pekar's stuff to feel like the Ferret, but I've read enough to know that Pekar's writing is something worth aiming at.

The BASTARD's Posting More About Fan Fiction

It's been nearly 11 months since I started on this most recent fan fiction bender. In the past, the benders only lasted three or four months and then I'd move off of it. This time, though, I see no end in sight. Probably because, this time, I'm doing most of my reading in between the pushing of paper at work.

Anyway, there's a site I can get to while here at work. It's full of lots of fan fiction based on Daria, and the guy who writes it is one of the muchly better writers of fan fiction to boot. (My biggest qualm with his stuff is that he has the characters hug and say, "I love you." too easily. It may just be my problem, though.) As I'm working my way through his stuff (copy/paste into Word and read from there) I've started to wonder about fan fiction writers, in general and this one in particular, and their need to take the characters they love and place them in other times, other worlds, and such and, quite often, changing the character in probably unintended ways.

This fan fiction writer has done this sort of thing several times: In one he has the Cuban Missile Crisis lead to war, although he doesn't explore what happens after the first day and it's really about the childhood of a parent. In another, Charles Manson's dream sort of comes true. Siblings and a ghost. A girl out of time, think The Flight of the Navigator. In the mid-40s, two girls bond over rockets, not yet finished. And a Daria who knew of the girl who hated Mondays moves to Lawndale, after attending an "alternative" school, in 2007. All of these are quite good and very interesting. All of them have characters that are similar to their TV show counterparts, but often not the same in important ways.

(I'd like to be clear that I'm not writing about crossover fan fiction. That's a whole other beast.)

There are always "logical" reason for the differences -- age, zombie white people, a death, aliens, war, Brenda Spencer -- but it's still jarring, to me. And the fact that the changes are often jarring leads me to wonder: Why make these stories, which are in so many ways different than the TV show, into fan fiction? Why not make them wholly original stories with original characters?

Okay, so some are challenges: "Take a character and drop him/her into D-Day." or whatever. But to write an 85000 word novel seems overkill to me.

I suppose people could say it's done for the love of writing:

"its fan fiction. It's not going to be published. I did it because I love to write."

Couldn't you still love writing and use original characters for this original plot?

"But I love these characters."

You altered the characters so much that really only their names are the same.

"I had to change the characters some. A war's on. They wouldn't be the same people in 1944."

But why'd you have to kill her sister? Getting rid of that relationship alters a lot about the main character.

"It increased the drama and let her show her emotions more than she did on TV."

Wasn't the fact that she held onto her emotions with an iron grip part of the reason you love the character, though?

"Yeah. So?"

I could be wrong about that whole conversation, but I don't think I am.

After writing this and forcing myself to think about it, I bet the real reason this kind of fan fiction is written is because putting labeling as such ensures it'll be read. It ensures some kind of feedback.

You won't always get that writing for the love of writing and then posting it somewhere or sending it out to an editor or an agent. And there's no way to track how often it may have been read.

I think a hugely important part of fan fiction, for the writers, is knowing that, no matter what's written, it'll be read by people who will, in some way, appreciate it. Even if it's only because the characters share names and appearances with characters who appeared on TV, or in a movie, or in a book, or on stage, or where ever.

There are always "logical" reason for the differences -- age, zombie white people, a death, aliens, war, Brenda Spencer -- but it's still jarring, to me. And the fact that the changes are often jarring leads me to wonder why make this stories, that are in so many ways different than the TV show, into fan fiction? Why not make them wholly original stories with original characters?

Okay, so some are challenges: "Take a character and drop him/her into D-Day." or whatever. But to write an 85000 word novel seems overkill to me.

I suppose people could say it's done for the love of writing:

"It's fan fiction. It's not going to be published. I did it because I love to write."

Couldn't you still love writing and use original characters for this original plot?

"But I love these characters."

You altered the characters so much that really only their names are the same.

"I had to change the characters some. A war's on. They wouldn't be the same people in 1944."

But why'd you have to kill her sister? Getting rid of that relationship alters a lot about the main character.

"It increased the drama and let her show her emotions more than she did on TV."

Wasn't the fact that she held onto her emotions with an iron grip part of the reason you love the character, though?

"Yeah. So?"

I could be wrong about that whole conversation, but I don't think I am.

After writing this and forcing myself to think about it, I bet the real reason this kind of fan fiction is written is because putting labeling as such ensures it'll be read. It ensures some kind of feedback.

You won't always get that writing for the love of writing and then posting it somewhere or sending it out to an editor or an agent. And there's no way to track how often it may have been read.

I think a hugely important part of fan fiction, for the writers, is knowing that, no matter what's written, it'll be read by people who will, in some way, appreciate it. Even if it's only because the characters share names and appearances with characters who appeared on TV, or in a movie, or in a book, or on stage, or where ever.

Eight Sided House

Stumbled on this website today.

It chronicles a family building an octagon house.

There's a floor plan, although they exclude the basement. (I wish they hadn't. Having grown up in CA I've only ever seen on house with a basement, and it was pretty creepy/disgusting. I'd like to see what they did with theirs, though.) There are tons of pictures. The guy did a journal of building it.

The whole thing's just fascinating and turns out quite lovely in the end.

I think I'd like to live in a house like that when I grow up.

In the Time of Minimum Wage

I got my eyes checked yesterday and then ended up spending more than $200 on a pair of prescription sunglasses.

You know what I learned?

I learned that getting polarized lenses costs an extra $85. That's $10 more than my vision plan covers to get new glasses.

Of course, I did get the polarization. The girl helping me didn't even have to go into her spiel about how its better for the eyes and blocks out stuff and such. I knew all that before.

Here's to hoping my prescription doesn't change much in the next five or so years.

From 25 to 0

Today was okay. I wasn't feeling great, but I wasn't feeling bad either. I was just doing the stuff I needed to do and the day was moving along at a reasonable pace.

After lunch, as I set my book down on the desk, I noticed a largish pile of ratings for me to mail out and scan. "Okay," I thought, "but where are the medical reports and requests?" The rater used to, a long time ago, keep the reports and requests and toss them in her To Shred box. Then the PJ decided that individuals should be responsible for their shredding and not the clerks. (Apparently one of us shredded something that wasn't supposed to be shredded even though it had been tossed in the giant box by the shredder that we were supposed to periodically clean out. Of course it was all our fault. We should have known better than to shred the stuff that was in the box full of paper to be shredded.) After he made that decision, the Rater started sending me all the crap that needed to be shredded by including it with actual ratings. So, I saw that there was no crap to be shredded, something's up.

I looked at the top rating. The injured worker lives in Marysville. Marysville is north of Cowcity. Not our venue. I leaf through the pile and notice that none of the ratings are going to our venue. In fact, all of them are going to the same venue. A venue we were doing ratings for last month for overtime. Overtime which has been canceled because the state still has no budget.

Now, lucky me, I get to do the serving and the prepping and the scanning and the completion and the checking to make sure that all the fucking documents went in the right case or any case at all during my normal hours because, as the PJ said, it was put on my desk to do. That's 90 to 150 minutes of work time, depending on how well the systems work.

It's not that its using up my regular work hours, which it is, that bothers me. (And, yeah, I get the irony of me wasting work time writing this.) I can get over that. I know how to adjust my processes to make up for the extra work and get myself caught up by the end of the week. What bothers me is that it's up to 2.5 hours that I could (should!) be getting for overtime. I feel cheated out of that little bit of extra money.

Also, I'm pissed at the PJ being an asshole. Doubt he'd do some other venues work if it showed up on his desk and was obviously not ours. Bet he'd send it back to that venue and tell the PJ there to go fuck him(or her)self.

Yeah, the day's not so okay anymore.

Nashville is 35

Jim Emerson takes a look at the crowds of Nashville.

Nashville's one of those movies that blew me away when I first saw it. I saw it in a film class when I was 18. I immediately rented it and watched it three more times in the two days I had it.

Emerson says:

This is a movie about the crowd, spectatorship -- about watching, and watching the watchers watch what they watch -- and these faces have become familiar acquaintances, like those kids you saw in the hallways at school but never really knew. One of the glories of "Nashville" is that you imagine the movie could have followed any of these folks and added their lives to the tapestry. As a wise man once said, god is in the details.

And he's so damned right.

I wish I owned it so I could look at it again. (...and again and again and again...)

Because I have (soon to be) family to tell me.

So, I see this blog post (Thanks Google Reader Explore!) and have no idea what it's about. I assume it's a protest. WebSense blocked Google from translating the page, so I had no idea what's going.

Then I turn to someone who can tell me what's going on, my brother's fiancée, who's from Beijing. I ask her if it's a protest and what the protest is about. Here's what she sent me:

hahaha! it is not a protest! it is an art thing! for the fun of it. It's dorm in Beihang University. These are all bed sheets~

it says as such: 

Dear security aunt we miss you. (funny casual sarcasm: security women guards are usually mean women that would do such things as snap at young couples if they kiss or hug.... we tend to not like them and call them aunt in a teasing way... Well sometimes there are good motherly ones too, so maybe this one is real that they do miss her.)

also, 

Any girl that would take me home? 

or,

I walk away with hurt eggs (eggs referring to balls). 

or 

Beihang girls only marry Beihang boys!

or 

goodbye Beihang we love you

Some jiberishes too for fun... I don't see any signs of protest..... why do you think this is protest?

Obviously, I'm a reactionary, ethnocentric American who assumes other cultures don't have a sense of humor.

Fun stuff, though, even if I am an idiot.

MINIMUM WAGE! Heyah!

The court has made a decision!

Of course I expect another appeal to come by Tuesday.

It's the uncertainty that's the killer.

My (lack of) Comments

One of the problems with this Websense things is that there are times, although rare, when I can get to a .blogspot.com page. When I can get there I can read everything and comment and all that. When I can't get to the page, I can't comment on other people's blogs.

I can, however, get to mine. Most of the time.

One of the things I can see in my Site Meter info is out clicks. Sometimes, when someone clicks to post a comment that link will become an out click and then I can get to the comments and add my own. Recently, though, they haven't been coming up.

Such is the stupidity of whatever.

My Bad, We're Getting $7.25 and hour

Something from the Sacramento Bee Article:

Roughly 200,000 state workers will receive minimum wage paychecks next month under terms of an order issued Thursday by the Schwarzenegger administration.

According to a letter delivered to Controller John Chiang in late afternoon, July pay for most hourly state employees will be withheld to the minimum allowed by federal law – $7.25 an hour – and then restored once there's a budget.

So, this happened to us a couple of years ago, too. The Governator sent out a letter telling the Controller to pay us minimum wage, which was $6.75 back then. The Controller didn't. The Controller says he won't do it this time, either. However, two years ago the Controller was sued over his decision and lost. That decision was appealed and the appeal was heard about two weeks ago. Who knows when the judge will give his decision on the matter.

People are freaking out. The union I'm in doesn't have a deal and they're telling us, via e-mail,  that it's "fear tactic" and a "bargaining ploy." Well, duh.

I figure I'll wait to freak out after the appeal's finished.

Smiles, everyone.

Some Good and More Bad

Furloughs are officially over.
That's good.

The Governator wants all state employees to start getting paid $6.75 and hour starting today.
That's bad.

Because the Controller defied the minimum wage thing last year, the whole idea's in court and if it's not decided on by the 23rd, or so, we'll get full pay.
That's good.

If we get full pay, odds are furloughs will come back.
That's bad, but better than federal minimum wage.

We, who work for the state, are once again caught in the time of uncertainty.
That's bad.

The budget was due on June 15th so it could be put in place when the new fiscal year started at 12:01 this morning.
That's bad.

Assembly members and Senators went home.
That's bad.

I am a petty, petty guy.

There was a "party" at lunch today. I didn't go.

When I've written about work parties in the past, I wrote that I thought they were stupid and I didn't want to go, but I have always gone. I'd grab a plate of food. I'd sit out of the way. I'd eat, quietly. I'd wish I wasn't there. But I'd go to the stupid party.

Today, I sat at my desk. I didn't get any food and, other than the potato chip I ate about three minutes ago, I didn't eat anything.

This party was to celebrate the worst person here and his thirty-some odd years of employment with the state. Today is is last day, and I refused to go to his party.

Many people in the office can separate the idea of the party from the person it's celebration. I can't.

The guy is so horrible to the people he's supposed to work with that about 10% of those who have dealt with him in the past have refused to go to him again. He has reduced, probably already stressed out people, to tears by refusing to acknowledge their questions. He doesn't listen to anybody. He just assumes he knows what's going to be asked. He tells these long stories that end with a point, but have never been relevant to the actual question or conversation. He's yelled at injured workers in the lobby and refused to take injured workers into a more private setting because it would be invading his space. He sends people away because the woman in the office who speaks Spanish is at lunch or out for the day because he doesn't want to use the over the phone translation service. He's an asshole.

At least he's that way at work. I can't say what he's like outside of the office. He may be the kindest person imaginable. He may sit and listen to the problems of his family and friends completely before offering advice or an opinion. He may respect the privacy of those in his life. He may.

I don't know, though. I only see him being a useless asshole of a human being. Within my first month working here, I knew who the person in this office was that give truth to the lazy, self righteous, arrogant, state employee cliché.

Now, if they'd thrown a "good riddance, make sure to help the door hit him on his ass on his way out" party, I would have gone.

Well, as long as he didn't go.

Gunkanjima

Off the coast of Japan, there's an island with an abandoned and crumbling concrete jungle. And there are lots of amazing pictures at that link.

It's like a bazillion post-apocalyptic science fiction stories brought to  like. It's almost exactly how I imagined Castledown in The Voyages of Jerle Shannara books.

Pictures of Oil on Pensacola Beach

From Tampa Bay's blog.

This is a link to my favorite picture. Its description says, "A trench dug by a group of USF geologists shows a continuous layer of oil approximately six inches beneath the surface of Pensacola Beach..."

A while ago, I posted a picture that showed the oil moving through the Gulf and said I thought it was beautiful. I still think that. I think some of these pictures a beautiful, too.

Even in disaster, even in disgust, even in horror, there's beauty.

I'm not trying to dismiss what's going on out there in the Gulf. If I never saw the images coming out now, I'd have been perfectly fine with that. Since I have, though, I'm not going to deny what I'm seeing on TV and how it takes my breath away not just because I hate it, but because I like what I'm seeing, too.

I'll leave you with this quote from under this pictures:

Footprints are left on Pensacola Beach on June 23. Signs on trash cans at at the beach ask that visitors leave only footprints when they depart. Overnight, tides left the beaches strewn with tar balls, oil mousse, and sludge from the Deepwater Horizon oil spill.

A Response

Found via galadarling.com. Google reader's explore button is fun! (Also, I didn't see a link to the original letter, so, there you go.)

A Letter To Men by Christina Hendricks

We love your body. If we're in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you're insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you're not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it's you.

I'm going to start off with the "we" thing. You, Ms. (or Mrs. or Miss, or whatever you prefer) Hendricks are not all women. The Lorax may speak for the trees, but that's only because they don't have voices of their own. Women have voices, and typing fingers all of their own.

I understand you're trying to make a point and say that women in general don't think like men think they do. I get it, but really, you're just speaking for you and the subset of all women who think in a similar way to you. I also get that the word "we" makes more of an impact on a readership that the word "I" does. It's harder for people to brush away a group than it is to brush aside an individual. Still, I want you to realize that I know you're really just talking about your preferences.

Also, I'll only be speaking for me, not some mythical "all men," many of which probably disagree with my musical lovin' self in many, many ways.

On to the body thing, it's confusing. Are you allowed to feel insecure about your hips and thighs and lips and breasts even though I say I think you look great, but I'm not allowed feel insecure about my belly or pecs or hairy shoulders or balding head when you tell me you think I look good? As an insecure guy, those moments I choose believe you when you say you like my appearance, I feel really good about myself, but I can't promise that I'll believe you all the time because those insecurities are so deep in my being it's easy to dismiss the things that don't fit my self image. Understand, it's not usually about you when I don't believe your words, it's about selfish old me and my wandering mood; I can go from zero to self loathing just as fast as you can.

Speaking of your body, you don't understand the power of your own smell. Any woman who is currently with a man is with him partly because she loves the way he smells. And if we haven't smelled you for a day or two and then we suddenly are within inches of you, we swoon. We get light-headed. It's intoxicating. It's heady.

I assume, though, that you still want me to keep showering in the morning, right?

I feel the same way about your smell, too. Don't cover it up with heavy perfumes. A little goes a long way and a small touch of the right one can add an accent to your natural smell that makes me melt inside.

Really, for me, I prefer it when you have a nice smelling shampoo and I can smell it and you together at the point where your neck curves into your shoulder. It's a spot I could breathe in for the rest of my life.

We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive — could be someone in the office, a woman on the street, a celebrity, any woman in the world, really — your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We will file the comment under "Women He Finds Attractive." It's not about whether or not we approve of the comment. It's about learning what you think is sexy and how we might be able to convey it. It's about keeping our man by knowing what he likes.

It's not just "about keeping our man by knowing what he likes" if this sort of crap gets dragged out during fights.

I look.

I comment.

You store and then you whip it out during a fight like it was an awful thing to do, three weeks ago; that's your choice, but don't tell me that you only file it away only for personal reference. You remember EVERYTHING. At the time, you may not consciously plan to fling it back in my face, in fact, I doubt it's ever planned, but you always seem to pull it out to clobber me with it when we're angry with each other. I'm not asking you to change that about yourself, just be aware, be honest with yourself and with me.

We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad. Doesn't matter if it's a compliment. Could be just a comment. Those things you say are stored away in the steel box, and we remember these things verbatim. We remember what you were wearing and the street corner you were standing on when you said it.

Yeah, don't I know it. See that comment about the fight up above. Strange, though, you rarely, if ever, bring up those times I said how wonderful parts of your body are, just the negative things we said.

Never complain about our friends — even if we do. No matter how many times we say a friend of ours is driving us crazy, you are not to pile on. Not because it offends us. But because it adds to the weight that we carry around about her.

If you don't want me to complain about your friend, in front of you, then you have to promise to never ask me my opinion of them. Yeah, usually know better than to just blurt out what I think about them, but there are always those moments where I'm distracted by the TV or even the cereal box and you ask and I tell you the truth.

If you really, really, really do want to know if I like your friends and I say I don't, don't ask me to tell you why, because I will. It's not (often) about hurting your relationships with your friends, but it's about being honest with you in our relationship. I'll put up with your friends that I don't like when I have to, and I'll do my damnedest to keep quiet about it, but when you ask, I'm letting go and you're going to get an earful.

Sorry.

Remember what we like. When I first started dating my husband, I had this weird fascination with the circus and clowns and old carnival things and sideshow freaks and all that. About a month after we started dating, he bought me this amazing black-and-white photo book on the circus in the 1930s, and I started sobbing. Which freaked him out. I thought, Oh, my God, I mentioned this three or four weeks ago and talked about it briefly, but he was really listening to me. And he actually went out and researched and found this thing for me. It was amazing.

I'll try to remember, but make sure that you don't fake that you like it. When I buy you a frog on a bicycle because I remembered when we were walking through a craft fair, or something, and you comment on how cute a frog dressed as a little boy was, but you don't really like frogs, it's cool if you pretend to like it in the moment because I don't want to be hurt as much as you don't want to hurt me, but make sure to tell me before the next gift giving time, otherwise, I'll probably get you another frog. I don't want to turn you into a frog lady if you don't really like frogs, don't let me. Be honest with me.

We want you to order Scotch. It's the most impressive drink order. It's classic. It's sexy. Such a rich color. The glass, the smell. It's not watered down with fruit juice. It's Scotch. And you ordered it.

If you really want me to order it, I will, but do I have to drink it? Oh, and if you really wanted it for yourself, order it for yourself. I think that women who aren't afraid of ordering what they want are sexy.

Stand up, open a door, offer a jacket. We talk about it with our friends after you do it. We say, "Can you believe he stood up when I approached the table?" It makes us feel important. And it makes you important because we talk about it.

I'm glad you told me this, but I make no promises.

If it's cold, I expect you to bring something warm. I'm not giving up my jacket if I'm cold. We can do the whole you-tucked-up-against-my-body-under-my-jacket thing, but I don't like to reward stupidity for looking classy, or whatever.

On the door thing, I'll try. I'm pretty good about holding doors to buildings open for everyone. If I'm the one who's driving, and can unlock your side without having to go to the driver side first, there's a good chance I'll open that door for you, but when we're getting out of the car I'll expect you to know how to pull the door handle thing all on your own. You're a big girl, you know how.

As for the standing thing, that depends on my mood and how long I've known you. If I'm in a bad mood, I won't stand for you. If I've known you for a while and am comfortable with you I'll probably stay sitting because you, hopefully, know me better, too.

No shorts that go below the knee. The ones almost like capri pants, the ones that hover somewhere between the kneecap and the calf? Enough with those shorts. They are the most embarrassing pants in the world. They should never be worn. No woman likes those.

Done. I don't like 'em myself.

Also, no tank tops. In public at least. A tank top is underwear. You're walking around in your underwear. Too much.

Also done. Never liked tank tops.

No man should be on Facebook. It's an invasion of everyone's privacy. I really cannot stand it.

Personally, I don't think anyone should be on Facebook. I don't like it those sorts of sites that seem to be so much about popularity, where you get nasty e-mail, or whatever, because you don't want to be "friends" with someone who was in you third grade class.

Since it exists, though, I don't think it should be limited by sex. Sexism is sexism no matter which sex it's aimed at. If it was aimed at just kids, that's cool, but unlikely since there's no good way to prove your age online, yet.

Also, if you see it as an invasion of privacy I hope you're not on it. Or is it okay for you, but not me?

If this is more about me checking up on your Facebook status, well, that's a different story.

You have to realize, though, if you're on Facebook, it's not private. Strangers, male and female, are constantly looking at it. Is that more comforting to you, knowing that strangers are looking at your pictures and reading your thoughts than knowing that I'm looking and reading? What does that say about us and our ability to trust each other?

You don't know this, but when we come back from a date, we feel awkward about that transition from our cute outfit into sexy lingerie. We don't know how to do this gracefully. It's embarrassing. We have to find a way to slip into another room, put on the outfit as if it all happened very easily, and then come out and it's: Look at me! Look at the sexy thing I've done! For you, it's the blink of an eye. It's all very embarrassing. Just so you know.

You know what I like, I like to participate in the undressing more than I like the sexy lingerie. If you want to play dress-up, okay. If you have to step out of the room to put on the sexy dress-up underwear, fine, go for it, but know that I like fumbling at your tiny buttons while we're close to each other.

Hell, on the nights I'm not getting lucky, I like to watch you pull your shirt over your head, revealing your curves in all their spectacular glory. There's seduction in simplicity.

I like you to feel sexy, so, when you need to, I'll let you do what you need to do.

Panties is a wonderful word. When did you stop saying "panties"? It's sexy. It's girlie. It's naughty. Say it more.

Really? Sexy? It's not silly or childish? Really?

Okay.

About ogling: The men who look, they really look. It doesn't insult us. It doesn't faze us, really. It's just — well, it's a little infantile. Which is ironic, isn't it? The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we're attracted to.

Yes, it's infantile, and I do apologize for doing it.

But, you see, there are these moments where it's like I'm 10 or 11 again and I'm just discovering the wonders of cleavage or that place where thigh meets butt and I stare. It's one of those moments where there's not a thought in my head. I'm just reacting.

There are better words than beautiful. Radiant, for instance. It's an underused word. It's a very special word. "You are radiant." Also, enchanting, smoldering, intoxicating, charming, fetching.

Better than beautiful? Or do you really just want me to vary the words I use?

I don't want to use some of those words to describe a person, but understand how you don't want things to be stuck in a rut. I'll do my best to change it up.

Marriage changes very little. The only things that will get a married man laid that won't get a single man laid are adultery and whores. Intelligence and humor (and your smell) are what get you laid. That's what got you laid when you were single. That's what gets you laid when you're married. Everything still works in marriage: especially intelligence and humor. Because the sexiest thing is to know you.

I disagree, marriage changes a lot.

We may still be who we were, but now we're really in this together. We depend on on another. There' s no more "your stuff" and "my stuff," it's now our stuff.

Before marriage me blowing $500 on a new phone or a new TV or something without consulting you maybe wasn't totally okay with you, but you can easily look past it. Me spending that much on something without talking to you about it after we're married becomes an unavoidable conflict. Same goes for you spending that much money without including me. Because after marriage the future becomes much more real.

The future's a lot more abstract to a single person. It's always tomorrow and tomorrow rarely comes. Until it comes it's only something that vaguely has to be worried about.

When you're married, though, the future's always there. Possible babies, a probable house, life insurance, work, and money, money, money are always there staring you in the face. In a marriage, the future is always now because life's not only about one person anymore.

Marriage may not change the people, but it changes nearly everything else, and that's a lot.

I LOVE getting these kinds of e-mails.

They make me feel so special!

From: Mr.Anthony Martin Esq <blahbhlahblah@live.com>
Re: Second Notice

Greetings,

 I understand that through Internet is not the best way to link up with you because of the confidentiality which my proposal demands.

However, I have already sent you this same letter one month ago,but I am not sure if it did get to you since I have not heard from you, hence i am constrain to reach you through the Internet which has been abused over the years.

 I wish to notify you again that You were listed as a Heir to the total sum of (Three Million Six Hundred Thousand British Pounds) in the codicil and last testament of the deceased.(Name now withheld since this is our second letter to you). We contacted you because you bear the surname identity and therefore can present you as the Heir to the inheritance funds.

 Please indicate your interest immediately for us to proceed. I shall feed you with full details of this transaction upon receipt of your reply towards this proposal.

 All the legal papers will be processed in your acceptance. In your acceptance of this deal, we request that you kindly forward to us your letter of acceptance; your current telephone and fax numbers and a forwarding address to enable us file necessary documents at our high court probate division for the release of this sum of money.

 I look forward to hearing from you.


Mr.Anthony Martin Esq.
Clive Fullerton
Trevor Smyth & Co
Chester House, 13 Chichester Street,
Belfast, BT 1 4JB
Private Telephone +4470111 83445

Things I really like:

• The grammatical and formatting errors
• That the name is withheld because "this is our second letter"
• The fact that they don't have my info in the will, but it had my e-mail.
• How my name's not actually used.
• That the return e-mail address is at Live.com and not at trevorsmyth.com.

Awesome.

Why...

• ...do I know what a perogi is?
• ...do I want a plate of them right now?
• ...am I the only one who seems to write it as "omigod" anymore?
• ...don't I hear "valley girl" speech much anymore?
• ...aren't there more hot air balloons out and about?
• ...does she go on a week long vacation in Monterrey while saying she may not make rent next month?
• ...does it seem so many IT people are arrogant jack-asses?
• ...do people seem to freak out when women get a buzz cut?
• ...must they make crappy movies out of decent TV shows?
• ...can't they stay true to the books when making movies out of them?
• ...is The Hobbit being split into two movies?
• ...was the finale of Lost so good and bad at the same time?
• ...won't they open the roof and the windows in the morning?
  
• ...be a completest even when parts of the whole suck?
  
• ...don't they just hand me a huge check?
  
• ...aren't I just blowing my overtime money?
  
• ...would it matter if I was broke?
  
• ...do I feel like I shouldn't get involved?
  
• ...won't they commit to Thanksgiving plans?
  
• ...are video games about "trophies" and "achievements" rather than finishing the game?
  
• ...haven't I bought some pizza even though I've wanted some for like a month?
  
• ...am I so mean sometimes?
  
• ...do I worry about my blog numbers so much?
  
• ...should I care about 'em?
• ...not learn to waltz?
  
• ...be a dick?
  
• ...not be a dick?
  
• ...are they so few answers?
  
• ...are the right questions even harder to find?
  
• ...not stare, even when its rude?
  
• ...won't I tell that fan fic author I think his stuff sucks even though it seems like everyone else likes it?
  
• ...give anyone the "benefit of the doubt"?
  
• ...not use "air quotes" more when talking to people?
  
• ...don't people like it when you narrate your life?
  
• ...do that hate it even more when you narrate their lives?
  
• ...did I say "no"?
  
• ...couldn't a fan do the prequels?
  
• ...do I stay where I am?
  
• ...is it that I shouldn't want what I want?
  
• ...can't I think of anything else to really want?
  
• ...don't I think others know better?
  
• ...bother thinking I know better?
  
• ..."are you so far away from me?"
• ...is that the song that's stuck in my head?
  
• ...do so many people think famous better than rich?
  
• ...can't they see that famous rarely leads to rich?
  
• ...can't those corn dogs be healthy?
• ...is it him and not me?
  
• ...is it me and not him?
  
• ...was I compelled to do this?
  

A Scientist is...

Who's the Scientist?
Seventh graders describe scientists before and after a visit to Fermilab.

They also drew pictures.

via Geek Feminism Blog

Double Ewe-Tee-Eff!?

Got an e-mail from my supervisor this morning letting us know who's out today and, as far as she knows, tomorrow, which is great, because she's been forgetting to do that lately. It also included this:

On another note:  In coming to the end of the furlough program and the uncertainties of what lies ahead for our contracts, I want to remind you that although the governor does not show his appreciation for your services – the public we serve certainly does.  I realize we may be coming upon even further difficulties in our financial lives and the frustrations that mound may seem to be infinite.  Please remember that we are lucky to have our jobs, the current unemployment rate in California nears 13%, one of the highest in the nation.  I want to encourage you to keep a positive attitude as much as you can, and try to enjoy your job.  You are a great team, each and every one of you has a special role in keeping this office one of the most productive and inspiring district offices in the State.  You have so much to be proud of!  So thank you all for the hard work you do – and keep up the good work!

Here's the part that pisses me off;

Please remember that we are lucky to have our jobs, the current unemployment rate in California nears 13%, one of the highest in the nation.  I want to encourage you to keep a positive attitude as much as you can, and try to enjoy your job.

What the FUCK is that doing in there!?

What the FUCK!?

I just... I'm having trouble putting into words why these two sentences bother me so much.

Telling me that I'm "lucky" to have a job because others don't? You know what, even if I quit, no one outside of state service could fill it. My job would be dead and gone until budget woes settle down. At the rate CA's economy is improving that means my empty position wouldn't be able to be filled for at least two more years. And yet I'm lucky to have a job where my hours and my pay are jerked around. I'm lucky because I don't know if I'll be working full time next week or if I'll still be forced to take Fridays off or if I'll have my pay cut to $7.25 per hour. I'm lucky to have a job that leaves my ability to pay my rent, which is more than a third of my current take home pay, at the beginning of September (I have some savings, thank you), in question. I'm lucky because 13% of the estimated workforce in the state is reporting to unemployment that they want benefits and I have a job.

I'm lucky.

Whooptee-doo.

Lucky isn't just having a job with an uncertain paycheck. Lucky is having a job that you actually love to go to, despite the crap that goes on there, despite possible losses in pay, despite lack of respect. That's what lucky is.

Just having a crappy job that you do only for the paycheck in a crappy economy isn't lucky, it's adequate. It's sufficient. It's what has to be done.

And then she has the nerve to say "keep a positive attitude" about this shitty job? I can't have a positive attitude about this place, not anymore. Any positive attitude that I may have had about this job died two years ago come August 25th. That was the day they introduced the bullshit "paperless" system which has made all of our jobs harder and more stressful to do. That was the day that this department proved how little it actually wants to achieve the goals it was created to achieve. Why should I ever have a positive attitude about a place where the goal was getting things done to a place that's become more about the shitty process?

Fuck your positive attitude, bitch. Take it and ram it up your nose.

Fuck those two fucking sentences and fuck you, too, with one of those South African toothed female condoms, only, you know, turned inside-out.

For those upset at the wait for the next "Song of Ice and Fire" book.

I give you a song: George R.R. Martin is Not Your Bitch.

It's true.

Me Pilgrimed

A link to my Scott Pilgrim Avatar!

Are any of you as excited about this movie as I am?

Scott Pilgrim Avatar Creator!

Destro
The Baroness

I made one, too, but stupid WebSense and Gmail won't let me post it!

Go, make yours, now!

A Little Waltz

This morning I've been obsessing over "L'Autre valse d'Amélie" a bit of music from the movie Amélie, which I still haven't seen. I love this short waltz, though. The way it starts with only two instruments and then when the phrase changes a new instrument is added. It's lovely, but way too short.

Is the rest of Amélie's soundtrack this dazzling?

"The Butterfly Gown" is my favorite.

Amazing paper art work.

This one, I can see. Too bad I can't post a picture from it.

Frustration in Not Knowing What I Don't Know

From The Anosognosic's Dilemma: Something's Wrong but You'll Never Know What It Is (Part 1):

I can readily admit that the "everyday Scrabble player" has no idea how incompetent he is, but I don't think that Scrabble provides an example of the unknown unknowns.  An unknown unknown is not something like the word "ctenoid," a difficult word by most accounts, or any other obscure, difficult word. ... Surely, the everyday Scrabble player knows that there are words he doesn't know.   Rumsfeld could have known about the gaps in his intelligence information.   How are his unknown unknowns different from plain-old-vanilla unknowns?  The fact that we don't know something, or don't bother to ask questions in an attempt to understand things better, does that constitute anything more than laziness on our part?  A symptom of an underlying complacency rather than a confrontation with an unfathomable mystery?

I found myself still puzzled by the unknown unknowns.  Finally, I came up with an explanation.  Using the expressions "known unknowns" and "unknown unknowns" is just a fancy — even pretentious — way of talking about questions and answers.  A "known unknown" is a known question with an unknown answer.  I can ask the question: what is the melting point of beryllium?  I may not know the answer, but I can look it up.  I can do some research.  It may even be a question which no one knows the answer to.  With an "unknown unknown," I don't even know what questions to ask, let alone how to answer those questions.

It's all about how the incompetent can't know they are incompetent.

I Miss Posting To What's Distracting Us

Two more things that I would have posted to that other blog, with freakin' pictures instead of just links:

1. Skeletons of Cartoon Characters
2. Lots of Gorgeous Black and White Photos

Stupid Websense keeping me from posting things where they belong.

This Would Have Been On That Other Blog, With Pictures

Forbes has this cool interactive map that shows, by county, where Americans moved in 2008, within the US. Just click on the county you're curious about and watch for the lines.

I wish it had some basic statistical data listed on the side of the map, like total inbound/outbound numbers, but it's still fascinating.

We Can Sing Together

One man, with the power to kill the internet:

A new U.S. Senate bill would grant the president far-reaching emergency powers to seize control of or even shut down portions of the Internet.
...
The idea of an Internet "kill switch" that the president could flip is not new. A draft Senate proposal that CNET obtained in August allowed the White House to "declare a cybersecurity emergency," and another from Sens. Jay Rockefeller (D-W.V.) and Olympia Snowe (R-Maine) would have explicitly given the government the power to "order the disconnection" of certain networks or Web sites.

Now, to the tune of The 1812 Overture:

No no no no no no no no nooooo
NO
No no no no no no no no nooooo
NO
No no no no no no no no no no nooooo
NO
No no no no no no no no no no nooooo
NO
No no no no
No no no no
Nooo nooo nooo nooo nooo nooo nooo nooo nooo nooo no
No no no no no no no
No no no no no no no
NO

It's not that I don't trust Obama, although I don't, but I sure as hell don't trust the next guy, or the guy after him.

Or the guy after him.

Do you?

A Moment of Hubris

Long before work decided that I, and everyone else in the department, spent too much time fooling around on the innerwebs, I joined a "write-off challenge" on the forum I'd still like to frequent. I was put in the fourth challenge group. After the boot, while visiting my parents in May, I wrote to the board and said I'd have to withdraw because I had no 'webs connection. One of the nice people there offered to act as go-between and send me the challenge prompts and post my short-short stories. (Oh, it's some of that fan fiction stuff for that cartoon thingy, you know.)

The first week in June the first prompt was sent and received. I stayed up too late that Sunday writing my story and sent it off Monday morning.

When I logged into Gmail this morning I got a note from the kind person that told me who "won" the first of the three writings (no one, really, since the other person didn't send a story) and the new prompt.

Along with the prompt, she sent some of the positive thoughts that others wrote. One is something that I'd love to see, with my real name in place of my handle, as a blurb on my book one day: "Like a lot of ticknart's writing, lately, this has a reflective voice and seems mild enough, till one finds oneself lying on the floor, with smelling salts being applied."

While I'd edit out the "lately" part, I really like the rest. It makes me feel nervous, but in that good way. Someone got what I wanted them to grab.

I'm going to copy and paste that line again, without the one word, and make it bold and a little bigger. I figure I should really earn the title of this post.

"Like a lot of ticknart's writing ... this has a reflective voice and seems mild enough, till one finds oneself lying on the floor, with smelling salts being applied."

Yeah, that's the stuff.

Winter is Coming

Saw the teaser for The Game of Thrones (Could download it through the reader. HA!), which'll be coming to HBO next year, and it shows nothing. NOTHING!

Okay, that's not quite true; there's a forest and a flash of horse riding and a crow and Richard Stark with Robb(?) and some scuffling and a scared kid.

Yes, I'm eager for the show to air so I can spend way too much on the DVDs after reading all the spoilers from the 'nets, but the teaser doesn't make me excited.

Sleepy Feeling

Woke up too early this morning and stayed up too late last night. Damned Tony awards.

I wasn't going to watch it, I swear. Just the opening song and dance stuff and then a bit of the beginning to see if the host was any good. Then, during the opening, Green Day was on stage and performed "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and "Holiday," not necessarily in that order.

The performance was really good, but my favorite part was the mixed reaction from the audience. A few people were really excited; there was one lady who had a giant grin on her face as she clapped along with the music. Most were politely clapping in time. The rest looked baffled, annoyed, and a bit scared, all at the same time. That made me laugh.

The rest of the show was entertaining. Lots of spectacle, some seemingly odd winners, and a some laughs.

Now I sit here, yawning, with the ever so light touch of a developing headache, singing and re-singing Julia Nunes's "Maybe I Will." (You should really go watch the YouTube video. Sorry I can't link you to it.) Yes, I have an ohrwurm. And it wasn't even the last song I heard before I turned myPod off.

Stupid Song That I Like Listening To

"An Old Fashioned Love Song"
Whether it be Three Dog Night or Paul Williams singing it, I enjoy the hell out of it.

I post because it just started playing on myPod and wanted to share with all y'all.

Oh, Websense, how you vex me!

Via Topless Robot:

When the original Pinafore was first performed in 1878 as a comic opera, it had enough mirth and silliness to sink the Titanic. It was conceived as a loving satire of the British royal navy -and, more matter-of-factly, the English system of social class. In this adapted version Jon Mullich places our team of players on a spaceship like the Enterprise of Star Trek, which is the most beloved sci-fi show in American television history, a true-blue institution, open to as much criticism as our democracy itself. In the chain of command how commandants like to step on captains and captains on lowly TARs (that's Transport Assistant Repairmen)! We may not be privy to class distinctions, but we certainly understand what it means to be rich and lofty versus poor and lowly. The adaptation fits the satire beautifully!

The plot remains unchanged in the new version and the quick-paced, upbeat score as well. Only some lyrics have been altered to suit the new venue. An example would be "He Is an Englishman" is now "He Is an Earthling Man". A great addition to the list of characters is Dick Deadeye, a lizard-like alien who stands apart as ugly and undesirable, making marriage to him seem utterly impossible.

No fucking access! Can't buy a ticket!

GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

When It's Right It's Sooooo Good

My current at work book is Star Trek Online: The Needs of the Many, by Michael A Martin. (My mom bought it and didn't enjoy it so I adopted it. Besides, if I'd seen it at the grocery store I probably would have picked it up since the cover claims it was co-written by Jake Sisko.)

For the most part, the books done in an interview style. Jake asks a question and the person responds. Obviously, it's aimed to be a science fiction Studs Terkel sort of thing (to whom the book is dedicated), the thing is that Mr. Terkel always seemed to try to take himself out of the prose of his books. Yes, you can tell that Mr. Terkel asked questions, but he didn't include, or rarely included, his questions (at least in the books that I've read/perused).

The Star Trek book would have been better if it left most of Jake's questions out and let the interviewee's words read like a long thought. More like what World War Z did. That book was a great example of the Terkel style used in horror.

So, what do I mean by the title of this post then? Mr. Martin has, so far, consistently nailed the characterizations of the people Jake interviews. His Janeway was so exceedingly sharp I didn't want her section to end. Vic Fontaine, who many other writers don't really capture, had all his swagger and understanding. The best, again so far, was Garak, another hard characters for writers to nail, except for the one who played him on TV.

Here's where I knew he'd nailed Garak:

"Nuclear Winter." With the human propensity for such elegant turns of phrase, one would expect Earth to have produced a great deal more interesting literature than it has. Forgive me -- I'm digressing again.

 
There's a backhanded compliment and an insult and an apology, but not for the insult, all coiled up in in delicious language.

It's much easier to read when I just think of it as an extended character piece.

Well Dwelt

A few of months ago, on that forum I used to frequent, a guy wrote a really long rant about how frustrated he was because of crap that was happening on another message boards he liked.

What had happened was that he got tired of people there using the word "gay" to mean "bad." He told them that they thought it was wrong and they should stop because, and I'm paraphrasing here, being gay isn't wrong or bad. The 'Nets being what it is, the people started to call him gay. He got upset and told them he was not homosexual or bisexual, but 100% straight. Of course, the people kept on calling him gay. Thus, the rant.

What I've been dwelling on, which others may not care about at all, is the fact that the ranter got upset about being called gay when he said that being gay isn't wrong or bad.

Am I the only one who doesn't understand his point of view?

He's human, probably, so I get that he's like everyone else and is a hypocrite and full of contradictions, but it bothers me that after trying to convince  people to not use "gay" in a derogatory way, he gets offend by it being used to describe him.

Knowing that it disturbs me I've been trying to figure out why.

Mostly, I think it's the hypocritical nature of the whole thing, but it's also because I've sort of been in that situation.

I know, with a certainty, that there are people who think I'm gay.

I don't talk about any sort of love life, past or present or future.
I have a high voice.
And I'm very willing to discuss my affection for musicals.

Seems totally gay to me.

The times I've been "accused" of being gay, in person since I don't remember it happening online, I just said, "Okay." and moved on with my life.

I knew that I was supposed to get offended (and that if I didn't I'd just "confirm" the "suspicions"), but I never saw a reason to get offended. Homosexuality is a state of being, it's not bad or good, it just is. Why should I let it bother me any more than being called a "hantmek" would?

Maybe growing up fat helps me to let insults roll off of my back. Maybe that guy from the forum didn't grow up with "insults" to his face or behind his back or constantly imagined like I did.

Still, his reaction to being called gay after saying there was nothing wrong with "gay" bothers me.

Websensed!

Well, Hotmail and Yahoo!'s e-mail have been blocked by Websense as "general e-mail."  How much longer until Gmail is blocked, too? Days? A week? Longer?

I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

This Came In Friday

From the union:

In the event a state budget is not in place by June 30, the California Superior Court has granted the governor the authority to impose federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour. The pay reduction, if ordered by the governor, would be reflected in the Aug. 1 paycheck for most state employees. The appeal of this ruling will be heard on June 21, in the 3rd District Court of Appeal.

Lots of swearing has passed through my head, and will continue to pass through my head.

Their "Buffy"

Drawn and Quarterly posted a cover to a fake Gilmore Girls comic.

It's not going to happen, but I would so buy it.

via Robot 6 (in my feed reader!)

One more time!

Son of a bitch! I'd like this to work.
<img src="http://www.notablebiographies.com/images/uewb_05_img0355.jpg"
alt="Lena Horne">

I promise to stop after this try.

No, I guess you can't.

Let's try that again:
<img src="http://www.notablebiographies.com/images/uewb_05_img0355.jpg" alt="Lena Horne">

Once again TEST! TEST!

<img src="http://www.notablebiographies.com/images/uewb_05_img0355.jpg" alt="Lena Horne">

Can you see that picture?

Fudge

I can no longer get on to blogspot sites.
I can not look at sites that aren't in blogspot's domain but use Blogger.
I can comment on my blog because SiteMeter hasn't been hit by WebSense, yet.

Even more than I used to, I wonder what the fuck I'm doing here. And I don't mean the blog.

GAAAAAAAAH!

There's a new Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World trailer, and I can't watch it.

STUPID FUCKING WEBSENSE!

Another TEST! TEST!

CAN YOU SEE THE PICTURE?!

Rainy Days and Fridays

I like coming to work on Friday. Well, that's relative to the other days of the week, at least.

Since we only have one Friday a month during furloughs, there are no hearings. Most of the public doesn't know we're open, so only the ones who don't know about (or understand) the furlough program show up, but that's very few people. We get almost no attorneys or their assistants coming through our front door asking questions they've asked before.

The best days at work are the days where there aren't any people.

If I could move my work week to Friday through Tuesday in an office setting, I'd be so very happy.

Too bad that's not going to happen. At least not until the idea of a weekend is eliminated from the US workplace entirely.

Mouse

The thing we use to move the arrow we point and click with on our computers is called a mouse. If I have more than one, is it still called "mice" or is it "mouses"?

Also, it's a verb. I use my mouse to mouse. Theoretically, when we learn how to make vermin super intelligent, I could watch a mouse mousing with a mouse.

More On That Fan Fiction Stuff

A major problem with a lot of the better fan fiction out there is dialogue.

See, the thing is, the better stuff has the broad strokes down. The writers understand the characters enough that if they have them change, it's for a reason other than the-story-wouldn't-make-sense-without-the-change thinking. There's a plot, of some sort, or if there isn't the character study is interesting enough that plot doesn't matter.

Then, there's the dialogue. It tends to be stiff and unnatural sounding. It's like the words in the characters' mouths are how the writers think people should speak rather than how people speak.

One of the big things they do is drop contractions. Yes, Data from Star Trek: TNG doesn't (can't?) use contractions, but everyone else on the ship does. People in life tend to drop their contractions for two reasons: 1. It extends the time you can think about what your saying allowing for a better constructed argument. And 2. dropping contractions helps to put emphasis on certain words and makes meaning stronger. English, as it's spoken, is a language that gets slurred, a lot, it's probably where contractions come from in the first place.

The other thing that really jumps out at me is the awkward word choices, like having character saying "fled" instead of "left" or other words or phrases that aren't used much in regular life. If one character chooses to use more archaic (for lack of a better word) or Latinate words, that helps to define a character. Awkwardly phrased dialogue can be used to show a flustered character, if it's used in the proper context. If all the characters speak with that kind of language, it becomes cumbersome and boring and sounds totally false. (Even worse is when it's only the characters using that kind of language and the narration is written very conversational.)

I think that the reason those writers write such poor dialogue is because they aren't listening to what they're writing. I know, that sounds crazy, but there's music in spoken language and, in my opinion, writers need to try and transfer that music to the page so that as people read it they can hear the music in their head. Like music, spoken language changes over time, what sounded natural 100 years ago doesn't necessarily sound natural today. I wish they'd listen to the dialogue they write rather than just read it.

Part of the problem is that I only really notice it when the rest of the writing is strong. Like I wrote above, these writers are decent with a strong sense of character and a reasonable sense of plot. Also, they have basic grammar down. There's the occasional mix-up with homonyms (I'm sure I fucked up some theirs and theres and they'res in this post.), but everything else is strong. And that strength is what makes the stilted dialogue stand out, at least for me.

Since it is fan fiction, the better writers are going to have lots of stories, which is nice. The problem is that these writers, at least so far, don't seem to improve. You can read a hundred thousand words worth of stories and not be able to tell which ones were written earlier and which ones were written later. I'm not sure if these writers don't want to improve or what. It's a shame.

Just Don't

I shrugged into my sweatshirt, zipped it up, and waved good-bye to everyone.
As I turned to leave, the youngest, who can walk, told me to wait.
I stopped.
He hurried over to me, wrapped his arms around one of my legs, and said good-bye.
I hunched over, sort of hugged him back, and said good-bye.
He let go and so did I.
I turned and walked out the door and down the path to my car.
As I climbed in, I didn't feel anything.
I thought I should, but wondered what it should be.
I recognized the moment as touching.
He knows my name. He recognizes me.
I'm not around that much and he's quite young.
He choose to come close to say good-bye.

That River In Egypt

Normally, I'd post this on that other blog, but I can't get to Blogger anymore, so I'll put it here.

From NewScience:

Here's a hypothesis: denial is largely a product of the way normal people think. Most denialists are simply ordinary people doing what they believe is right. If this seems discouraging, take heart. There are good reasons for thinking that denialism can be tackled by condemning it a little less and understanding it a little more.

Different, But The Same

Got this on Monday:

May Revise 2010-2011: Employee Compensation

• Current furlough program scheduled to end 6-30-10.
• Components of 2010-2011 employee compensation savings:
• 5% increase in all employees' monthly pension contribution to CalPERS;
• 5% reduction in all salaries;
• Additional 5% reduction in all salaries in exchange for 1 day/mo. personal leave; and
• 5% departmental salary savings by reducing size of State workforce.
• The first three changes will require collective bargaining and/or statute changes.

Increasing Employees' Pension Contribution

• Increasing the employee's share of pension contributions will help lower the State's costs of providing pension benefits. This change will apply to all retirement categories (misc., safety, peace officer/firefighter, patrol, and industrial).
• Most State employees ("misc" retirement category) will see their monthly CalPERS payroll deduction rise from roughly 5% of salary to 10% of salary.

5% Pay Cut

• Applies to all employees in the Executive Branch, including civil service, non-civil service, and non-elected officers. (Elected officials' salaries are set independently.)
• Pension calculations will be based on this revised (lower) salary level.

Personal Leave

• Salaries will be reduced equal to one day of pay per month (roughly 5%). In return, employees will receive eight hours of personal leave each month.
• This personal leave will have no cash-out value, nor will it adversely affect any benefits such as health or retirement.

Capping the Size of State's Workforce

• Administration previously directed departments to implement plans to reduce their payroll an additional 5% effective 7-1-10.
• Departments may use employee attrition to achieve this savings target. If attrition will be insufficient to meet this target, the department must lay off employees to meet it.
• A department may continue hiring to fill vacancies if doing so does not cause it to exceed its "workforce cap."
• The Franchise Tax Board's direct revenue collection functions will be exempt from this workforce cap to avoid adverse impact on State finances. The Constitutional Offices will be exempted as those offices' budgets had a permanent reduction in FY 2009-10. 
  

All this means to me is that I'll continue to have the same pay without the days off. The funniest thing about this is that two of the things the Governator wants to do were in the contract members voted to support 18 months ago. (The contract had that unpaid "personal day" and a 5% increase to medical.)

Life sure is grand.

Look at the time, 1984 already.

(That is a quote from Daria, which is still a spectacular show, even though it's missing the music.)

Websense has entered the department here at work today.

I found it out a couple hours ago while trying visit PPMB to read what's goin' on... Wait, no, it was geekier than that, I was at the Daria wiki to double check an edit I made earlier this week and it the page was blocked. No social networking or message boards/forums or something like that.

Websense'd.

Checked the comics I like to read, none of them worked. The reasons, oddly enough, varied. Most were marked as entertainment, a few as forums, a couple as social networking, one as shopping. The shopping one was odd, so I checked and saw the Amazon was working just fine. Still does. Funny, seems to me that if part of its job is to block shopping sites, then shouldn't it block all shopping sites? Isn't this the sort of thing that the Net Neutrality hearings and such are about?

Oh, well, for today, at least, I can blog through my e-mail, since it's been up all day. Tomorrow, who knows. When I log in in the morning I may not be able to access my g-mail account. I can also read the feeds from Google Reader, but that may not last.

Oh, yes, it's an exciting time to work for the state.

TEST! TEST!

I may have tested this before, but now it's more important!

God speed, little e-mail.

Losing the Heights

In The Heights is in SF for the next couple of weeks. Its a show that I'm very curious to see. It won a Tony, so it's probably petty okay, even if it might not be great.

There are three problems with going to see the show:
1. The with work, cheapest ticket is $64 dollars, since it hast to be bought through TicketMaster, the fuckers.
2. Doing overtime, which is what will give me some extra money next month, I could only get into SF on a Sunday to see it.
3. The show is leaving on June 18th. That give me four Sundays, one of which I will not be here for and all of which are before the overtime check will be in my chubby hand.

*sigh*

Maybe I'll just wait and go see Young Frankenstein when it gets back to SF in July. That might be fun.

Interpretations, in the End

The first time I ever learned that there were people out there who didn't like the ending to My Fair Lady, I was in college. I was admiring a picture of Audrey Hepburn (I'm pretty sure it was from Breakfast at Tiffany's, but memory fades.) my friend had up on the wall of his bedroom and mentioned it to him.

"I love Audrey Hepburn," he said, "except at the end of My Fair Lady."

I didn't ask why. Although I wondered.

Years later, talking with another friend and her husband My Fair Lady was brought up (probably by me, but I can't be sure about that) and she mentioned how she preferred the end to Pygmalion. I asked about the difference since I hadn't read the play, and she said the difference was that in Pygmalion Eliza doesn't go back to Higgins.

I don't remember discussing it any more, but I do remember thinking that if Eliza didn't show up at the end of the movie then My Fair Lady would have to end either after Higgins sings (or "sings" when talking about Rex Harrison) "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" or after Mrs. Higgins says, "Bravo, Eliza." Both seem logical endings, with the former being much more sad.

I wondered, though, if something was wrong with me that I've never felt disturbed by the end of the movie/play. I can see why my friends would prefer Eliza not to show up in the study at the end: she's freed herself from a controlling, self-centered, arrogant, asshat of a man and taken her fate into her own hands. (If it had ended this way for my whole life, I would probably agree with them.) Most people who like the end probably like it because they think Eliza and Higgins are in love and now -- sigh -- they can be together, forever, and get married.

Me? Well, the more I've thought about it since that first time the more I realize that I like the end of the movie/play because Eliza has taken hold of her life and, frankly, I think she's chosen the best life for herself that she could find in early 1900s London.

She doesn't return to Higgins because she's in love with him. Yes, she cares for him a great deal, she probably loves him, but she is not in love with him, as seen here:

Higgins: In short, you want me to be as infatuated about you as he is, is that it?

Eliza: No, I don't. That's not the sort of feeling I want from you. I want a little kindness. I know I'm a common, ignorant girl, and you're a book-learned gentleman, but I'm not dirt under your feet.

What I done-- what I did was not for the taxis and the dresses, but because we were pleasant together and I come to-- came to care for you. Not to want you to make love to me and not forgetting the difference between us, but more friendly like.

The important bit again: "Not to want you to make love to me and not forgetting the difference between us, but more friendly like."

She cares about him, probably does love him, but Eliza Doolittle is not in love with Henry Higgins. I've always thought that she looked at him as the older brother she never had or the father she wished she had (although the father position is probably better filled by Pickering).

And Higgins isn't in love with Eliza. "I've Grown Accustom to Her Face" is a song about fondness. About how he likes that she's around. He sings, "I've grown accustomed to the tune that / She whistles night and noon." because it's part of the background of his life making what he thought was a nice life even better and more comfortable. "I've grown accustomed to the trace," he sings, "Of something in the air; / Accustomed to her face." She's made his life better in a smaller, simpler, and, perhaps, stronger ways than he made her life better.

Then why, if it's not love, does she come back to him, right?

Academics and economics.

When she first comes to Higgins she wants to be a girl in a flower shop. She wants to earn a better living for herself. She wants to move out of her social class and into a class that she sees as better. Eliza never expects to live with Higgins, though. She thinks she'd do it like her friend who took French lessons. She'd come to Higgins's house once or twice a week, clear up her accent, get a job in a shop, and move on with her life.

By moving into Higgins's house and working with him on a Daily basis, Eliza is pushed into the world of academia. As she speaks her vowels and practices her "h" sounds and says those tongue twisters she also overhears Higgins and Pickering discussing dialects and the human condition. It's easy to imagine that sometimes she might have even join in the discussions, once she starts to speak-up.

After the ball, knowing that the grand experiment is over, what's she to do?

Can she go on and work in someone's flower shop and be happy?

Can she really marry Freddy?

I don't think she can do either one.

Marrying Freddy's out because he's self-centered and an idiot. If there's any conversation to be had between the two of them, it'll be about him. (His song is about how he feels to be near her, which is sort of flattering, but I'd have more respect for him if he sang about how it felt to be with her.) It's like he thinks she's a trinket that he can put in a case and admire because it makes him feel good to know he has something so nice. There's only status in him, no vigor or life, no real thought. By the end of My Fair Lady Eliza learns how to think and isn't likely to marry just for money.

Working in a flower shop could be more likely, but where's the challenge to Eliza. She's been working and learning for months. Not only does her way of speaking change, but her view of the world (and the world's view of her). Before, she knew how to read and write, but that was all. After, she knows how to analyze what she sees and reads and use it to her advantage. The ball was where the audience sees her using the things she had been taught to her advantage: adapting as the situation changes, and letting the people think of her what they want. Working in a flower shop isn't a place where she could stretch her mind.

She couldn't marry an idiot (if she had, I would hate the movie/play with a passion). She wouldn't be happy simply selling flowers. What other choices did a woman, with no money, have in the early 1900s?

Eliza had another choice. Was it the perfect choice? No, but I think it was better than the alternatives.

Perhaps what really gets to the people who don't like the ending is that the last thing Eliza tells Higgins before showing up in his study at the very end is that she can do bloody well without him, but she, in the end, decides she does need him. I can understand how that could stick in their craws, but I still think that, for the time she lived in, she made the best choice.

Gulf Oil Spill

Sometimes, I think it's unfair that such a horrible thing can be so beautiful. Click for much bigger.

Taken from GeekDad.

Found:

A lost paper full of madness. (Click to make it bigger. You really want to click to make it bigger, trust me.)


If yours, please come back and explain the highlighting of the "a"s in the last paragraph and what the drawing is suppose to be.

Classic vs. Cliché

When it comes to the ending of a movie or a book or short story, how can you tell when the ending is classic (an homage) or cliché?

Example: Kid gets cool toy. Toy has artificial intelligence capabilities. AI is nice and helpful to kid. Kid helps AI to learn and AI helps kid get through problem, or whatever. In the end, AI ties up kid and kid's family. The end.

AI betrays its creator/master/friend is a "twist" that's happened a lot in science fiction. It's happened so much that when I read something that introduces an AI that's important to someones survival that I expect it to betray and when it doesn't (*SPOILER* watch the movie Moon *END SPOILER*) I'm surprised.

So, when is that sort of an ending a classic and when is it a cliché? Is it only a classic ending when I enjoy the story and a cliché when everything building up to it is boring and painful? Is it still a cliché even when I, or you, enjoy the story/movie/novel? Are all classic elements -- plots, character archetypes, endings -- of stories that keep getting repeated cliché, or are they something else entirely?