The young man hesitated. "You're dead, you know."
"Yeah. I figured."
The new guy sighed in relief. "Good. Some people have such a tough time with that."
George continued looking at him impassively. "I'm sorry," he said, though he wasn't, "but who are you?"
"The young man gave him a sparkling grin and replied, "I'm Peyton. I'll be your guide."
"Mmm. Where am I?"
Peyton shifted, grew a laconic grin. "Well, like I said, you're dead. But first, I've got to ask you a question." He paused, pursed his lips. "Have you ever heard of Amway?"
George's eyes bugged, then Peyton laughed and made a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just kidding," he said. "What do you feel right now?"
George blinked. "I don't see how that's any of your business."
Peyton let out an exasperated breath. "C'mon. If I'm going to be your mystical spirit guide, you've got to trust me at least that much."
George pursed his lips. His options were pretty limited. Might as well trust him this far. "I feel...nothing."
"All right. Good. You'll fit in well with us."
Finally! I have this page displaying properly in both Opera and IE. <sarcasm>Can't wait to test it on Safari....</sarcasm>
Ghost Story, part 2
He glanced around for a tunnel of light, but there was only the dark, sparse apartment, illuminated dimly by the Swedish lamp in one corner.
He looked back down at Donna, who was in turn staring down at his slumped body. He knew he should be feeling something right now—anger, remorse, fear—and he made a supreme effort to feel something. But nothing came.
Great, he thought. Even death doesn't cure depression.
This little fling with Donna, in fact, had been an attempt to lift his spirits three months ago. Well, he realized, looking down at his stiffening body, that clearly hadn't worked out.
He felt a tingling then, in the back of his mind. He glanced around.
A few feet to his right, a green form flashed towards him and coalesced into a young man wearing the indistinct, ghostly equivalents of a vest, a bead necklace, and shorts. A shock of hair topped his smiling friendly face. The new guy's eyes flicked up and down George's hovering form as he smiled tentatively and said, "Hi."
George was not about to trust just anyone, though his options seemed limited at the moment. He regarded the young man for a moment, then replied, "Hello."
The young man looked down at the bed and arched an eyebrow. Donna had covered her face with her hands and was hunched over, rocking to herself, though she was making no noise. George's eyes roamed over her naked, curled body and reflected that she looked pretty sexy. Then shook his head and reminded himself that she had just murdered him.
The young man looked back at George. "Nasty business."
"Yeah."
More to come....
In other news, the WSJ today reports that intel.jwire.com is the most comprehensive search engine they found for WiFi hotspots. Just wade through all the Centrino ads....
Ghost Story, part 1
The last thought that flashed through George Hatterly's mind before he died was where Donna had hid the knife while they were having sex.
The knife sunk into his sternum up to the hilt and the life drained from his eyes.
And he blinked.
Because suddenly there, below him, a naked forty-year-old man was slumping backwards, a knife protruding from his chest. Donna was just taking her hand off the hilt, the murderous rage in her face giving way to, ironically, surprised horror. And, of course, the dying man was him.
He groaned inwardly. He looked down at himself, which was transparent and colored a sickly green, like a bad Hollywood special effect. He was a ghost.
How inconvenient.
More to come....
I don't know what it is about alternative operating systems that attract me to them. I love playing around with these weird little OSes.
Perhaps part of it is the "Big Fish, Little Pond" syndrome. With a little alt.os, I can have a big impact on its community just by writing a comparatively straightforward application or writing a few documents.
So I've recently become re-interested in Syllable, which is a nice little GUI OS with lots of potential. No apps, but lots of potential.
Which, of course, means nothing unless that potential is realized. I have my thoughts.
- An alt.os cannot survive without attracting lots of developer attention. To do this, the OS must have high-quality development tools. Typing "gcc" in a terminal window simply won't do. In fact, decent development tools won't do. The tools must inexorably pull developers from their current development environments, and to do that, the tools must be first-rate.
- Assuming the developers come, the OS needs to be able to handle MS Word documents. Note: I don't mean that it needs a word processor, though it does. A word processor is of minimal value unless users can actually open and save Word documents with it. It's amazing how many people say, "I'd love to try that OS; can I use Word documents on it?"
I addressed the first issue with Juggler, but now realize that my simple IDE was insufficient. Syllable needs something more like the modern IDEs such as Visual C++.
Eh. My half-cold gave me a good swift kick before leaving, so yesterday I was completely unable to do much of anything. Not even a journal entry.
I think I was subconsciously saving my energy for that evening, and the next step of the familial crisis. As seems to be common with such things, it didn't go quite as expected. I think we resolved the issue, but I'm not sure. We'll (hopefully) get confirmation today.
I went to a birthday party afterwards, for a friend of mine I met through the Redemption Club. He has four children, all boys; the oldest is 11. And they're all technologically inclined. Their basement is a tech holding pen.
It was fun, though I ended up spending more time with the kids than I did with the adults. This was partly due to timing; when I got there, the only people there were kids and adults from the other side of the family who didn't speak English very well, so I followed the kids into the basement for some Godzilla action. And once you've settled into one group in a party, it's awfully hard to uproot yourself and insert yourself into another group. Especially when you know everyone in your group.
But I had a good time anyway. I guess I'm perverse like that.
Here's the next bit of the VR story. It should kick into high gear with next week's entry.
"What's this file you want?" Thomas asked.
The avatar visibly relaxed -- prematurely, to Thomas' mind -- and replied, "It's a program I wrote; a simulation. It's very important to me. I worked on it for years. But when I went in to work on it a few days ago, it was gone from my cube."
"And you know who took it?"
"Not exactly. But I know it must've been one of my co-workers."
Thomas shook his head. "You need a hacker, not a detective. It may not even be in the system by now."
"No!" The avatar began agitated gesticulating. "I know it's there. I heard somebody bragging about working on a new simulation, but I'm not sure who it was."
Thomas didn't like it. This didn't sound right. And breaking into a corporate system meant risking jail time, which was very bad for business. Still. Ten thousand dollars.
"I'll do it," he said.
Please note, dear reader, that I have never suggested that Thomas wasn't greedy.
I drove to my parents' house Tuesday evening after work. I had planned to bake a ridiculously over-the-top cake on Christmas Eve, so we'd decided I'd get there the day before and be able to spend all day Christmas Eve there.
However, I was fighting off a cold by that point, so we decided to chill out instead. We watched Rush Hour, which we all enjoyed greatly, then I screened Once Upon a Time in China for my Mom, which she appreciated. Two good flicks there.
My sister and her family (husband and four children) came over during the evening on Christmas Eve. The kids were great; high-energy and high-maintenance, but pure and enjoyable. We opened each other's presents, then they all went home.
Christmas Day was a low-key affair; my parents and I opened the rest of our presents, then we spent the rest of the day playing the board game Reminiscing, which is essentially Trivial Pursuit with historical questions.
On Friday, I felt well enough to attempt the cake. And, to my satisfaction, it turned out well: three layers of cinnamon and ginger spice cake, sandiwching a peppermint white chocolate mousse and a mini chocolate chip white chocolate mousse, smothered in decadent chocolate ganache and covered with dancing gingerbread men. It looke dimpressive, too. Unfortunately, my camera lost its battery charge and my parents were out of batteries, so I couldn't take a picture.
On Saturday, I left my parents, did some errands, and returned to my apartment. It was a wreck; I'd left it in quite some disarray as my cold was building up and I couldn't summon the energy to straighten up. So, I rolled up my sleeves and tucked in.
There's something immensely satisfying about the act of putting something in order. That's what I felt as I assembled lamps, put out several bags of garbage, tossed laundry into the washing machine, and vacuumed. It felt good.
It felt even better to pop open my laptop and write some more of Seeing Things Invisible. I didn't even write much, and what I did write I'll probably never use (the scene I finished just doesn't further the story much, and I can reference it in other scenes without describing it directly). But I wrote something.
And now, energized, I'm ready to rock.
First, for perhaps the first time, Tolkien gets more credit than he deserves, rather than less.
Spent last night curled up in bed, watching MST3K and anime.
The MST3K was The Hellcats, an incomprehensible film about wild 1960's biker culture, impressively padded with shots of people riding bikes and tense confrontations that are resolved with feats of manliness and have no impact whatever on the plot.
Then came two episodes of Please Teacher!, an anime which every reviewer seems to describe the same. It's a silly, horny teen comedy in which is embedded an amazingly strong romance. The protagonists stumble through an increasingly complicated relationship, doing their best to do the right thing by each other. Interspersed with "Oops, I grabbed the wrong person's breast" scenarios. Oddly enough, it works.
Then I tried two episodes of One, an anime OVA that I picked up fansubbed because it looked interesting. I can only assume it's based on a dating sim; it has that classic "tons of cute girls all interested in the same mysterious guy" plot. The mysterious guy is even drawn half-shadowed a lot of the time, which is common in dating sims.
The plot of One is completely incomprehensible at this point, though I think that's intentional. Apparently, a bunch of girls all knew one guy at various points in their lives, but their memory of him has been erased some time in the past year. He's entering their lives again now, and they're beginning to remember their histories with him.
Unfortunately, the director favored extremely lengthy shots in an apparent effort to make it more moody (and pad the anime); I shouted "Do something!" at the screen a few times. Worse, the animation is often inept; a character will shrink way too fast as she runs away from us, or a character's hand will leap all over a violin as he plays it. Still, it's an interesting little show.
In other news, I'm somewhat depressed. This is due mostly to an ongoing crisis with somebody close to me. I'm not directly involved, but it's still a weight on my heart.
As a result, I'm not writing. I haven't written a thing since Friday, despite my commitment to write 300 words a day. Well, no writing over the weekend was understandable, but nothing yesterday? This is bad.
On the other hand, what would I write?
There's something about the holidays that simply warps time and space. Everybody's really busy, at a level beyond typicaly day-to-day busy-ness. This means that events are in flux; there are lots of concerts and plays to see, and regular weekly meetings are cancelled.
I had a good weekend. Saturday was spent shopping, mainly. I spent Sunday morning and early afternoon at a party my parents held, then drove straight to a nearby church to meet with some friends to talk about our writing projects. We had a good time and discussed our current writing problems, though it was a bit awkward to do so in the middle of a busy cafeteria, with people chatting and toddlers rushing by.
I'm back at work today, and will be here tomorrow as well. I'll come back on Friday, and probably Saturday as well, since I'll be taking off all day Wednesday. We'll see.
Wednesday night was to be a free night. This was not altogether ideal; my wonderful art teacher cancelled due to a rather bad cold, with the knowledge that I won't be seeing here again for several weeks (she's going home for the holidays). She's a good friend, and I'll miss her.
But I knew I'd have the evening free. I planned to bake some cookies, write, and do a bit of reading. I'd even bought a few new books for the occasion: a complete collection of Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy novels, and Joseph Heller's Catch 22.
I batted a .333; after dinner, I cracked The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy compilation and didn't stop until I reached page 275 (all the way through the original Hitchhiker novel and within thirty pages of the end of The Restaurant at the End of the Universe), at which point an alrm whimpered in the back of my mind that maybe bedtime was near. It was 11:00 p.m.
I half expected Hitchhiker to be a mind-blowing, brilliant novel. It wasn't. Instead, it was a consistently funny, simply entertaining book. Which is exactly the kind of book I tend to gravitate towards these days.
But perhaps that style is remarkable in itself. It can be awfully hard to write a tale that's simply fun. The temptation to become the next Hemingway sneaks in with alarming ease.
In other news: new poll. On the right.
Saalon is sadly mistaken. t.A.T.u. Paragate (however you capitalize it) will be a plotless, pointless anime with weird pseudo-sexualization but no overt sex. This, I foretell.
I still want to see it, though.
And, hey, Texhnolyze (the latest ABe/Ueda/Konaka project) and Kino's Travels (by the director of lain) are coming out in a couple of months. Can't wait.
Blast. Blast, blast, blast. The internet connection at work died intermittently yesterday, preventing me from posting to this journal.
So, here's my response to the writing challenge (the 500-word monologue); feel free to post your own response.
And without further ado...
To one side of the avatar's window appeared a dark green rectangle containing public-key encryption data. Thomas arched an eyebrow. This guy was either paranoid or part of something really big. Thomas enlarged the encryption window and touched the glowing "OK" button. It disappeared, as did the avatar's window. A fraction of a second later, the avatar's window re-appeared with a red border.
The avatar nodded in satisfaction. "I need you to access this system and find a particular file." As he spoke, another window appeared next to his, containing connection data for another VR system. Thomas squinted at the text."It doesn't even have a domain name?" he asked, incredulous. "Whoa. Is this a workplace? I don't root around in places that can put me in jail."
"But I reallly need you to find this file," the avatar whined. "You don't understand. This is important."
"I'm sure it is," Thomas replied. "Not interested. Bye."
He motioned with his right hand to close the connection as the avatar blurted, "Ten thousand!"
Thomas paused. "What?"
The avatar fidgeted. "I'll pay you ten thousand dollars."
Thomas was many things. He was addicted to the seductive immersion of VR. He tended to overeat. He was very smart. And he was very, very curious. These qualities combined to make him one of the best VR detectives in the business. And right now, this potential client held Thomas' curiosity.
Well, I'm back.
I had an amusing weekend. On Saturday morning I swapped my truck for my parents' SUV and drove about five and a half hours to Saalon's, where we spent the weekend hanging out. Lumix joined us to watch some anime (Interstella 5555 and Whisper of the Heart). I had a great time, as usual, just chatting with Saalon about everything from film to our current projects to the nature of the Gundam franchise.
We woke up Sunday morning to four inches of snow and a heavy snow fall blanketing the hills to the horizon. I e-mailed work, warning them that I may not be back on Monday. Saalon and I kept an eye on the weather reports, and I waited until the snow fall had tailed off, then headed home. By then it was 5:00 p.m. I was making good time, until I came to a halt on the highway, and spend an hour and a half creeping forward one foot at a time. Some major accident had completely closed the road.
The road cleared out and I pushed through, pulling to a stop in front of my apartment at 1:00 a.m. Ugh. I crashed into bed and didn't wake up until almost noon on Monday. I decided to stay home, finishing up the chores that I normally do on weekends. I did make it out to Monday Group, where four of us had a good time talking about the nature of power in relationships.
In other news, I'm maintaining my commitment to write 200 words a day. I've written 200 words a day every day for the past week, except for Sunday. I'm actually finding that 200 words a day isn't quite enough. It's an awkward amount of writing; only enough to fill maybe a third or a quarter of a scene. I'm now aiming for 250 words a day, increasing it until I'm writing a significant but not overwhelming amount every day.
Regarding the current writing challenge: I'll delay it a few more days, so I can return it to its schedule.
And I agree with Brennen that this is an excellent NY Times article about, roughly speaking, fundamentalist Christian separatism. It's an impressively balanced article.
GAINAX shows are like snowglobes: pretty and diverting, but ultimately pointless.
The site on which I host my writing challenges is currently down until Brennen gets stun-software.com online. I've completed my 500-word monologue, though. Have you?
My art teacher came down with something nasty and so didn't come over for my drawing lesson last night. So I took care of a few things around the apartment — washing the pile of dishes, taking out the trash — before plopping down in front of the TV to watch a little anime.
I had made it a third of the way into the 90-minute Barefoot Gen, the chronicle of a boy living through the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. I managed to get through another thirty minutes of it last night before turning it off. It was horrible, though necessarily so. The horror is the whole point, really; the film's saying, "This is what happened. It was hell. Let's not forget it." It reminds me a bit of the 9/11 tributes which used footage of the actual attacks. Yes, it's painful. It's supposed to be, as a remembrance.
So, I switched off the movie after seeing as much as I could handle, and after pacing my apartment for awhile, popped in the disc for Interstella 5555: The 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem (ahhh, I do love that title), the hour-long Daft Punk/Leiji Matsumoto music video. I was amazed. The movie certainly goes in directions I never would have expected, but ends with a refreshingly mature finale. Matsumoto's 65, after all, and he brings a certain gravitas to this action/adventure tale.
I then further unwound with an episode of Earth Defence Family, which is the epitome of everything that attracted me to anime in the first place. In the middle of silly, over-the-top action, the show will drop in a touching character moment. It's incredibly fun, and yet it's about things. I love it.
After that, I watched the first episode of Macross Zero, which is pretty much everything I'd hoped it would be. I'd say it's as good as the first episode of Macross Plus, which actually isn't saying all that much. I'm reserving my opinion until I've seen more of it. It certainly seems more serious than Macross Plus. And it doesn't have Sharon Apple, which is a shame.
In other news, John C. Dvorak has a cute rant about uniformly beige/cream/black technology. Why?!
My depression is lifting. My thanks to those who offered their sympathy.
Just to change things around a little bit, here's the beginning of a bit of story. I'd like to post a bit more of it every Wednesday, like Saalon's Half-Tail stories.
Grothnir raised his blood-encrusted battleaxe above his mighty mane of golden hair and, with a roar, was about to bring it down on the grizzled head of the hapless guard before him when, suddenly, his beeper went off.
Grothnir paused just long enough for the guard to whip out his glistening sword and hold it with two shaking hands in front of him. Grothnir sighed. He didn't have time to finish this.
"You're lucky," he said to the quivering guard, and disappeared.
Thomas Aznable frowned into the dark grey void of inactive VR; he was clsoe to levelling up Grothnir to level 10, which was the practical minimum before anyone would really talk to you in the Lotharian Nights. Client B was anxious for progress in the Case of the Two Missing Swords, and he was the nervous type, always wanting a status report. Still. The beeper meant new business.
Thomas made a few hand gestures to pull up his main interface, then touched the pulsing red box as it appeared. A large, green-bordered window appeared before him, and within it, a male avatar. It was a stock Japanese model; a dark grey high school uniform hung perfectly on a late-teen body which was topped with an atttractive, bland face and a mop of short black hair. Thomas frowned again; he had little respect for people who couldn't even bother to customize their avatar.
"Hello," the avatar said in a high, whining man's voice. Sounded like a forty-year-old obese science fiction fan. Probably wanted the bra size on the latest Japanese pop idol. Though considering how young they were getting these days....
Thomas pushed that thought away; this was business. "Yes?" he replied, trying to be courteous despite his mild annoyance.
"I...uhhh...I understand you...find things," the avatar said, fidgeting slightly. This was why Thomas loved virphones; they provided such a rich library of body language. And you could have the body of a ten-foot demon, if you wanted to.
"Yes," he replied, keeping his voice cool and neutral, "on any non-restricted vir system. What do you want to find?"
The avatar fidgeted. "I need you to switch to a secure connection first."
Not feeling particularly well. I've been rather depressed for the past couple of days, actually.
New anime didn't even do much to help, though it was a temporary psychological lift.
Yes, my Bootleg Anime Extravaganza package came yesterday, complete with Turn-A Gundam, Earth Defence Family, the first volume of Macross Zero, Barefoot Gen, and a few random things that looked interesting. I watched the first episode of Turn-A Gundam, which was excellent, and Earth Defence Family, which was also fabulous (and perhaps the most lavishly-animated anime I have ever seen).
I did talk to my boss yesterday, and he agreed to start getting me involved on other projects here at work. It'll be relief to be away from B-1's deathmarch.
Ugh. This sounds like I'm reciting in in a monotone. I'm not that bad, really; I'm just...not really present. It's like my mind is separated from my body, and I'm going through the motions of day-to-day living.
I'm sure it'll pass, given plenty of food and some exercise, which I plan to get tonight.
Our server was hacked into last week, so we decided to wipe it clean and restore it from backup. 'Twas the only safe course. The various sites hosted on the server have been coming back online steadily for the past few days, thanks to Brennen's hard work.
The anime music download link is down, since we decided not to restore all my anime mp3s. I'll begin re-uploading them this week.
Friday night was an absolute blast. Old Man Winter was angry and poured half a foot of snow on us&rare for this area, so early in the season—and people reacted predictably, with complete panic. The church where I lead the Friday night card game was closed for the night.
I wasn't informed of this, however, so I carefully packed up equipment and snacks, hauled them over to the church, and parked before discovering that the church was locked.
Worse, I knew that some folks were already on their way, and there was no way I could reach them. So I made an executive decision: we'd all meet in the parking lot and then head over to my apartment. And we did, smoothly enough.
The actual tournament was a real party. Everyone had a great time (except for one little girl who took her loss very hard), and the adults remarked that we should do this every week. Heh. I think not.
Saturday was not as productive as I'd hoped, though that's hardly surprising considering that my new Saturdays-off routine is barely a week old. I did write most of my Christmas cards and plotted the immediate future direction of Seeing Things Invisible. And baked a batch of M&M cookies, and did laundry.
So, really, I did quite a lot. Just not what I wanted.
Last night, instead of our normal Monday Group, a few of the regulars went out for sushi at a local restaurant. I had a great time, eating plain octopus and a delicious salad.
Y'know, just six months ago, I would've been terrified of this. Let's run down the list:
- I was feeling a bit under the weather, thanks to some mild food poisoning.
- I'd never been to the restaurant before.
- I didn't have much time to get there. As it was, I barely had time to get home, sort through my mail, and change.
- I'd have to hold up a real conversation with other adults.
But I've gotten over all that. Part of it's a realization that none of that really matters. I mean, so I don't have much time. So what? So maybe I'll get there a little late. Nobody will die.
We left early, by Monday Group standards: 9:35. I got home with an hour to spare before bedtime, and spent it reading more of E.E. "Doc" Smith's wonderful Lensman trilogy.
I've marvelled at how much of science fiction grew out of Smith's work, particularly Star Wars. Well, I had confirmation of that when I flipped a page and saw:
THE QUARRY STRIKES BACK
Chills ran down my spine.
Now, I don't know if Lucas snagged that for the title of Star Wars: Episode V. But I wouldn't be surprised, given Lucas' professed love for such things.
I woke up on Saturday morning with that wonderful feeling that comes from knowing that you have nothing planned for that day.
Of course, with me, I never have nothing planned. Saturday was my opportunity to write.
Up until a few months ago, I would've pushed myself to write all day, and been disappointed with myself if I hadn't. Now, I had enough inner grace to give myself plenty of leeway. I realized that this would be my first opportunity in years to have a full day to devote to writing, and that I shouldn't expect myself to leap into it with all the gusto of an over-sugared eight-year-old.
After waking, I went on a three-mile run around the neighborhood. The air was cold, and the wind rushing down the street knifed through my running suit, but it was invigorating, and I enjoyed it. Even the third mile was good, despite a mild stomach upset.
After a hot shower, I sat down at my desk, fired up Navi, and began work on my writing challenge for the week: an extended monologue. It ended up as a thousand-word monologue about the history of anime. I'm rather proud of it.
I tried my hand at some of my other writing projects—Seeing Things Invisible and the ghost story—but nothing came. I just wasn't ready to write them yet.
Ah well. Instead, I began my Christmas baking. By the end of the weekend, I'd baked a loaf of pumpkin bread, reverse chocolate chip cookies (white chocolate chips in chocolate dough), gingersnaps, and peanut blossoms (peanut butter cookies with a Hershey's kiss on top). They all turned out well, except for the gingersnaps which were way too dry.
I woke up on Sunday with an upset stomach, so I skipped church but entertained my parents with lunch. I wanted to show them Memories, but they had to get home, promising that we'd watch it another time.
Memories is possibly my favorite Jackie Chan film. It's set in the roaring 20's, complete with gangsters and tommy guns. It features some of the best fighting scenes I've ever seen Jackie perform. It's also the most lush of Jackie's films; it uses a lot of huge steadycam and crane shots. Sure, it's eye candy; but it's beautiful eye candy. And all too rare in kung fu films.
I ended the weekend watching a lot of anime:
- The last twelve episodes of Dai-Guard, which is partly an anime spoof and partly just plain fabulous anime. As Dual! Parallel Trouble Adventure is a parody of Neon Genesis Evangelion and its ilk, Dai-Guard is a parody of the "team of youngsters pilot a giant robot" genre. And not only is it hilarious, it's a strong story with incredibly strong characters and a jaw-dropping finale.
- Another episode of the original Mobile Suit Gundam. Most anime only tries to be this good.
- Re-watched Animation Runner Kuromi, which is just as funny as it was the first time I saw it.
- Re-watched a few episodes of Kodomo no Omocha, which is even funnier than it was the first time I saw it.
My cold is clearing out.
I spent much of my illness laying in bed and watching movies and anime. The list? But of course! I shall share my obsessions with total strangers.
- Children of Dune, a surprisingly impressive rendition of the second and third Dune books. The actors were quite good (mostly; Susan Sarandon was unexpectedly mediocre).
- Earth Defence Family, which I believe I've effused about on this journal enough. The ending lived up to the show's established brilliance.
- Quiet Country Cafe. A beautiful, quiet show that has a lot of fans. It's the anime equivalent of a secretive woman — coy, fascinating, and a complete mystery.
- Turn-A Gundam, which continues its political and character-driven musings. It emphasizes the human character development of the Gundam universe, rather than the typical mechs-and-explosions aspect seen in, say, G Gundam.
- Last Exile, a fusion of early-20th-century German technology, American Revolutionary War-era battles, and an adventurous sci-fi anime story, seasoned with deep characters. Tech TV will be airing this show in a 6.5-hour marathon of the first thirteen episodes on March 14th.
- Witch Hunter Robin, which is just plain serious adult anime. It's essentially The X-Files (at that shows' best); it just happens to be animated. The characters manage to not be annoying.
I also re-watched a few MST3K films, as I usually do when I want to be comforted, and re-re-re-re-watched that wonderful anime adventure film The Cat Returns.
On a side note, I see that CD Japan has started a new column called The Collector's Den, where an American recommends cool products available on the site. A good opportunity for English-speakers to taste the delicate stew of Japanese pop culture. At the moment, there are only a few columns, and they concern themselves with some basics — Studio Ghibli releases, Toho releases (Godzilla et al), etc. — but even those offer some delights, such as the recently re-mastered soundtrack for The Castle of Cagliostro.
Also in other news, Yo Saalon! Gundam Seed will air in America on Cartoon Network April 17th, or so says this report.
Ick. I caught a nasty cold on Sunday, and I'm still suffering from it.
Oh, now this is interesting. I'm updating this page through my Treo 600 PDA/phone. It's awkward and slow, but then wasn't the web in the early days?
I'm finding the primary inefficiency in this to be the difficulty in typing the < and > characters that HTML requires. But even that is getting easier with time. WikiTextFormatting would actually be very useful here.
In other news, I'm sick with a cold. I probably caught it at the boys' sleepover Friday night (which went surprisingly smoothly).
Blast it! Been extremely busy for the past few days, and unable to spare time for this journal. And just when I have a new theory about the future of computing hardware. :grumble:
Things are going pretty well, all things considered. I have a lot planned for the next few days.
I took yesterday off so that I could relax a bit. It definitely helped; I met and talked with my parents for a couple of hours, and I did some errands. I bought a ridiculously expensive chess set, too; partly as a comfort, I think. And the store was going out of business, so it was less ridiculously expensive than it otherwise would have been.
Which reminds me: I've replaced my dying Handspring Visor and my old celphone with a new Handspring Treo 600. Yes, it was expensive, but it does everything I want it to do, and it consolidates my Palm device with my celphone in a nice package.
I'm happy with it.
VR story will be posted later today, when I get a chance to type it up.
Thomas pulled up a menu and pointed at the item on the bottom. It was a shortcut he'd made earlier, to a special program he'd bought from a spiky-haired seventeen-year-old, then extensively modified. He cycled through its potential avatars and found a plain cube, which he immediately chose, then placed the object into the middle of the room.
He pulled three cameras away from their positions and pointed them out the door, looking down the hallway. Empty. He couldn't be too careful about this. He took a breath, then touched the cube.
Flickering beams of light shot out from the cube in all directions, some existing for only a fraction of a second. A few turned bright green and stayed, locked on their targets. Thomas waited. More beams flickered out, some locking on. Thomas began to get antsy, even though it had only been a few seconds. He now counted seven green beams. Eight. A few seconds later, a ninth and a tenth locked on, then they all disappeared and the cube itself glowed green. Thomas waited for another moment.
Then he cursed himself. He hadn't checked a single security access point since he got here. He pulled up a blue window, touched it to acivate it, and began typing on the virtual keyboard that immediately appeared below it. A few moments later, he retrieved basic status from the security system. No alarms were active, at least. He pulled up a menu and pulled out of it a small, multi-tentacled, blue Cthulu head, and pulled one of the tentacles onto the window. This was a common VR tool; as soon as it touched the status commands on the window, it copied that behavior, scanning continuously.
An alarm blared, pulsing the Star Trek "red alert" sound into Thomas' ears. He swore. Someone was querying him. THe sysadmin was clearly on duty, and must have noticed Thomas' entry into the security access point. Thomas immediately grabbed Cthulu and waved at it, canceling its behavior. It disappeared.
A window appeared nearby, asking him how to respond to the query and counting down eight seconds before sending an automatic response. He thought furiously for a moment, then paused the countdown and composed a quick, plain-vanilla response, then sent it. The alarm stopped.
Thomas began to dance.
I'm in a good mood today.
I can't help being in a good mood today.
Two days ago, a few bootleg anime DVDs arrived. "Oh, fine," you say, "You watched and enjoyed some new anime." No, this goes far beyond that.
One of those DVDs contained the first four episodes of the new remake of Astro Boy. Oh, how I wish there were more on that disc.
I watched two episodes Wednesday night, and another two last night. And...oh, the joy I felt. Oh how wonderful this series is.
First and foremost, it is Astro Boy. It is a consistent execution of Osamu Tezuka's vision. It is bright and cheerful and deep and complicated and spiritual. It explores issues of purpose and prejudice.
The animation is also stunning. Absolutely stunning. Each episode cost a quarter of a million dollars. To put that into perspective: most anime series are made for far less than a million dollars.
The theme song is running through my head right now. I am happy. I have seen a thing that is real anime.
I am thrilled we're making plans to return to the moon.
Why? Lots of subtle reasons. Space is far more than the "Earth's backyard" that a lot of people seem to think it is. It's not just another place to explore.
As Solomon Short wrote, "Space is not the final frontier. The final frontier is the human soul. Space is merely the place where we are most likely to meet the challenge."
As James Lileks wrote, "Not because it is easy, but because it is hard and expensive and boring and lethal and just might – might – give people something to watch that's more important than Paris Hilton pitching a fit because she chipped a nail."
In other news, I was endlessly tickled when I flipped open my copy of The Wall Street Journal this morning to see Astro Boy on the front page, at the bottom, with a reference to page B1. And on page B1 was a huge, full-color action shot of Astro Boy zooming through the air, accompanied by a solid article about the anime industry.
How nice of them.
I've been working on the VR story over the past few days, partly because I'm rather unhappy with what I've posted here so far.
It's moving along very slowly, and I find it somewhat boring. The mundane details of conversations take up too much space in this sort of format. I need more action.
So, I followed some writing advice (I think it was from Orson Scott Card): When all else fails, have two thugs with guns burst through the door.
So. Literally, two thugs with guns burst through the door.
And it worked. The story is rushing forward now. It's stumbling a bit at this unaccustomed pace, but it's definitely moving forward fast.
Funny how simple advice like that can work so well.
Also, ironically, we're a long way from that point. We have another four or five entries to go before the two thugs with guns burst through the door.
In the meantime, what I post here will be good build-up to the background of exactly why the two thugs burst through the door, which I don't know myself yet for sure.
Thomas stopped. Ah. There was Client D's office, barely a minutes' journey away at his current speed. Thomas decided to increase his pace somewhat; his nerves were already humming, and he wanted to finish this job sooner rather than later.
He made it to his client's office without bumping into anyone or anything. This was expected, as Client D had said that everyone would be out of the office at a party by this time. However, the silent, drab emptiness only served to increase Thomas' nervousness. He'd spend some time in khakis and a tie; this place was not altogether alien to him. It was one of the reasons why Thomas was now a VR detective, to escape places like this.
The office itself was bare, also as expected. The VR world has no need of workspaces in the physical sense. Your VR office is simply a convenient representation of a conduit between you and data. While in your office, you could summon any sort of data and it would appear there, hanging anywhere within the confines of the office walls. Of course, the higher up you were in the organization, the larger youf office, because of the larger amounts of data you have to access. An executive's office might be littered with hundreds of windows and deeps1, providing a dizzying cacophony of status and progress in a dozen different ways.
And so, in the digital world as well as the real one, your status is determined by the size of your office.
1 Deep — short for "datapoint," normally represented by a small cube in VR space. A deep can be manipulated to express data in a variety of three-dimensional (and other) forms not easily expressed in a flat window.
If you ask people about software development, they'll tell you that software development is like gardening, baseball, writing a novel, a jigsaw puzzle, the stock market, a rock-climbing team, war, blacksmithing, a game of Kerplunk, farming, baking a cake, art, digging a hole, archery, or the oil in your car.
Actually, it's none of these things. Software development occurs entirely in the design/development phase. You aren't actually making the product until you burn the CDs. Coding is a process of creating, testing, and refining a design. The source code is the design for the product that you will create.
It took me quite awhile to realize this.
Well. I've fixed the CSS for this journal. It's not quite as pretty as I'd like it to be, but it renders properly in IE for Windows now (at least, my copy). Which, let's face it, has most of the market share.
2:44 p.m.
The internet is a World of Ends. You can apply it to your blog with interesting effects, I think. I'm still absorbing this.
Stephen writes, in part: "Expose continues to be the best thing to happen to GUIs since the WIMP (Windows, Icon, Mouse, Pointer) mangement concept."
Well...no. I've been using Expose for awhile, and it's a nifty way of navigating from one window to another. But it's essentially another utility for navigating windows, joining the group that includes the dock/taskbar/etc. and Alt-Tab window switching. And I find it a lot quicker to Alt-Tab between applications than to use a key/mouse combination to choose windows.
Don't get me wrong; Expose is an impressive innovation, so impressive it was immediately cloned for Windows (with no mention of its Apple inspiration). But I don't think it's that big of a deal.
In other news, I'm feeling better. My sleep patterns are returning to normal.
I had a rather stressful Sunday. I'm taking over the 5th and 6th grade boys' class at my local AWANA club, as the previous leader of that group was transferred to Hawaii. That was a bit worrying, as I've never had that much responsibility, and there's a lot to keep track of — records, notifying the kids of upcoming events, and keeping order. The night went reasonably well; the kids were a bit loud and raucous, but no worse than they are on many nights. It's early days yet.
But I came home to a truly amazing comfort meal: hearty macaroni and cheese, good thick white bread with a thick layer of sweet butter, a tall cold glass of milk, and chocolate chip cookies; all homemade.
Sometimes, all that homemaking really pays off.
My sleep patterns have deteriorated. I suspect I know why, but the details are too private to post in an online journal such as this. Suffice to say that it's rather depressing.
I feel like the protagonist of Fight Club. I need a Fight Club right now, something to do. I do have Redemption on Friday nights, which is surprisingly like Fight Club, in a way; a close-knit group of friends who engage in mock combat for no real reason other than to prove that we can fight. And win.
In other news, oh how I want the new iLife.
I couldn't go to sleep until quite late last night, but at least I didn't sleep a huge amount. My sleep patterns seem to be returning to normal. The new Aerobed may indeed be helping.
More on the VR story:
Thomas appeared in a rat's maze of grey cubicles and beige walls. Fortunately, this was an off-the-shelf low-res world; everybody and everything was an abstract shape, designed by a committee sipping bad coffee at some monolithic IT company.
This was fortunate because it meant that nobody was pariticularly distinctive. In a VR world with full-body avatars, everybody gravitated towards certain social norms. It was basic human nature, and it was different from world to world. Even corporate worlds were like that; a suit-and-tie outfit might attract attention. And the last thing Thomas Aznable ever wanted was attention.
As soon as the world resolved around him, he put out eight invisible cameras, all ringing him at a distance of one meter and facing outwards. He couldn't really juggle that many; four was his practical maximum. But he needed as much advance warning of...anything as possible.
He began to drift forward, simultaneously pushing his forward camera away from him by another meter. Meanwhile, he was furiously arrangin ghis camera windows into a four-by-two grid at the bottom of his display. Once they were in place -- more or less -- he began glancing all around him, giving himself no more than one second on any view.
He recognized the world; it was by Halversson Inc., and common in large companies with lots of money to burn on overpriced software. He began to make fumbling motions with his hands, trying to remember half-forgotten commands. He managed to pull up a map of the place just as he reached the end of the hallway and turned right. He continued moving forward, at a leisurely but not overly slacking pace, as his eyes raced around the map, zooming it and re-centering it furiously.
I seem to have solved my sleep problems last night, at least for the night. I went to bed a little late, after taking some sleeping pills, and put my wheezing Aerobed on top of the cushions, so I'd at least have a comfortable bed for the first hour or so. I also practiced a few Tai Chi forms before going to bed and prayed a bit, which I think calmed me down.
I'll try that again tonight and see if I can replicate last night's success.
I felt like a spoiled child when I thought of going to Monday Group yesterday; I didn't wanna. No reason. But I went anyway, and ended up bringing much of the food. We had a good time, just catching up with each others' lives of the past month. They're good people, and I'm reminded of the importance of good friends.
I'm doing a pretty good job of writing every weekday and Saturday. My goal is to write 200 words every weekday, plus 1,000 words every Saturday. I'm writing the 200 words consistently, but I've needed time to adjust to writing 1,000 words on Saturday. Which is fine. I'm not going to beat myself up because I didn't immediately leap into professional-level writing.
Couldn't go to sleep until 2 a.m. last night. Slept through both my alarms. Woke up at noon. No idea why.
This has been going on for awhile, and I brainstormed it with my parents yesterday. We thought it might be my bed—my normal Aerobed got a slow week and I've been sleeping on couch cushions for the past week. But I slept on the (slowly deflating) bed last night, and it didn't seem to help at all.
I plan to try some Sominex tonight.
Worse, this makes me feel...off. Like I've either gotten too much sleep or not enough. Everything feels a little dull and grey.
On the other hand, it's a rainy day, so everything is a little dull and grey.
Anyvay. Been powering through Turn-A Gundam (I watched episode 10 last night), which is intriguing, fast-paced, and intricate; and Earth Defense Family, which may become one of my favorite anime series of all time. It's got great comedy, and great drama, and great action. All at the same time.
I baked my first loaf of bread last night; a plain loaf of white bread. It turned out surprisingly well. The crust is firm but not too crisp, and the inside is nice and thick and doughy. And it was pretty easy, too. I'm looking forward to getting used to making it; I think that, once I'm familiar with the rhythms of the dough rising, I'll be able to make bread pretty often.
Ugh. I simply cannot wake up at a decent hour anymore. It started on Monday; I slept through my alarm and awoke at noon. Of course, my body wouldn't go to sleep at the regular time, so I ended up tossing and turning until 2 a.m. Lather, rinse, repeat. This morning, I slept through two alarms, despite going to bed at a reasonable hour the night before. I'm hoping that this is the end of it.
I stayed home on New Year's Eve. This usually elicits an "Awww" from those to whom I tell it, but I frankly don't care about New Year's. It seems like an empty reason to celebrate. "Yay, the world hasn't ended!"
This week's writing challenge: Choose an occupation of any kind (programmer, mother, hobo, etc.). Integrate five stereotypical elements of that occupation into a character description. Then integrate five highly non-stereotypical elements of that occupation into the same character description. Purpose: Improve your ability to create a non-stereotypical character. Discover ways to "de-stereotype" a character.
And I'll leave you with a writerly quote:
Sorry for the lack of updates recently; work's been amazingly busy lately.
Life news: I've made an appointment for laser surgery on my eyes this Friday.
Am I the only one who thinks that this
I suspect/think the average bizguy has a lot more in common with the average hacker than we might think. Both enjoy figuring out and playing with rules systems. The problem is the direction we take it in.
Hackers like to figure out rules systems and play with them, andmanipulate them to achieve elegant solutions. For hackers, the groove is in elegance. It becomes part of our nature (sometimes to a fault), like water to a fish. The more systematic and elegant the rules system, the more easily we comprehend it and manipulate it. But we get obsessed with it, to some degree of "when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail." The classic story is the hacker preferring the elegant solution tomorrow over the keeps-the-company-in-business solution today.
Bizguys like to figure out rules systems and work them to advantage. For bizguys, the groove is in winning. This, too, becomes part of their nature (sometimes to a fault), like water to a fish. Systematic and elegant is not necessarily beneficial; it makes the rules easier to understand and figure out, and it leaves fewer points of leverage for them to exploit. Plus, systematic and elegant is not often (or maybe often not) relevant; the world is a messy place, and the underlying elegance and symmetry are hard to see, hard to apply directly to problem solving.
And now, we return to the VR story, already in progress.
"You Thomas Aznable?" asked the man on the left in a low, slurred voice.
Thomas gulped. He was pushing his brain to think of a response, and it kept replying, "Pistols! Pistols!"
The man on the right grunted. Thomas' lack of an immediate denial was all the answer they needed. "Nothing personal," said the man on the right.
A black-clad figure flashed like a ferret into the room and punched both men as they were turning towards the intruder. They both stiffened, grimaced, then fell like oak trees to the ground.
The intruder held a tazer in each hand, which she quickly slipped into what looked like holsters underneath her black vest. She was dressed like Trinity's punk younger sister — sleek black pants and a black pullover shirt hugged her body, plus a black leather vest that hung loosely from her rather thin frame. From black roots sprung short purple hair. She looked at Thomas and grinned a crazy grin.
His brain was just now managing to get off the subject of pistols, but unfortunately was mostly distracted by this girl's body. She was probably sixteen or so, and Thomas couldn't help noticing that she had an amazing figure, which her outfit only accentuated. He wasn't undressing her with his eyes, exactly, but it was a bit like glancing at a t-shirt that has something undeniably rude on the front; you can't help staring at it for a moment to verify what you saw.
She leaned forward and grabbed Thomas by the arm. "C'mon," she said. "We can't stay here."
I've been thinking a lot lately about how great art is made.
When I was young, I thought great art was made by Artists (not artists; Artists). Artists spent their days wandering around in verdant woodlands or flower-filled meadows, possibly while pressing their nose into a leatherbound volume of Sartre. They might possibly talk to passing animals. Then, suddenly, Inspiration would strike, and they would hurry home to pull out a quill pen or a curvy palette with a hole in the middle, and would write or paint or compose or whatever. And they'd create the whole work in one go, or at least large segments in one go. And, if they ever had to revise, they merely moved a word here or shifted a note there.
But the more I read about the circumstances in which great art was made, the more I found writers who were churning out a thousand words a day, or painters who didn't really like their great art but hey people like it and I'm not going to argue about the money, or composers who wrote song after song after song after song. I realized that great art comes from everyday art, that the great works are just part of the process of consistently and diligently creating more and more work.
After I accepted that fact, I turned my attention to the attitudes of the artists. What separates the great artists from the artists who create one brilliant work and then fade back to banality?
The answer to that question came yesterday as my small group discussed Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. I realized that great artists do not worry about what their work will do for them. I do not mean that they are detached from their work — far from it — I mean that these artists have successfully thrown off the fetters chaining them to their work. They do not seek prestige with their work. They simply place their work in front of the public, and walk away.
I also do not mean that these artists do not want their works to succeed. Far from it; many great works of art have been created out of dire financial need — Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings partly to capitalize on the financial success of The Hobbit — but the great artists don't seem to worry about any personal fame that their art might bring them. They are content simply to create.
Warning: Today's entry is a boring retread of my weekend.
Shadrone writes that he doesn't eat as well as he'd like, since he's so busy. I was reading recently of an overweight programmer determined to lose weight, and his solution was to cook up a lot of stir-fry every Sunday, then dump it all into individual containers and take two to work every day. Makes a lot of sense. I'm think of doing this myself, since I'm getting tired of PB&J's pretzels for lunch every weekday.
In other news, my weekend increased exponentially, so to speak. Saturday was quiet, in fact, quiet enough that I managed to read the entirety of Terry Prachett's Moving Pictures. But then I hosted a Big American Party starting at 7:00 p.m. A tiny party, it turns out; only one person made it (Shadrone, as it happens). We had a good time, though, playing Tokyo and watching Macross Plus and Gasaraki.
I woke up late on Sunday, as usual, dropped by my parents' house for a few hours, then went to my writing group. That's a blessing, really. I was completedly blocked on two of my four writing projects, and they gave me solid new directions for both of them.
Then, AWANA, which is getting more and more fun as I get more used to my new duties. We played trivia games and I showed them a bit more of Princess Mononoke (by popular request!) at the end.
I finished up the night with another friend, who came over for a few hours. He whipped me in a game of chess, then blew me away in a game of Tokyo. It was good, though; we got to talk about our plans and lives. Good times.
Okay, everyone, gather around! It's story time.
The simulator where I work has to recognize NavAids, which (from what I understand) are basically transmitters tucked into the ground at various points around the globe. When flying, the plane monitors the distance to each of these NavAids, and because it knows the actual location of those NavAids, it can triangulate with them to find out where the plane actually is.
Except that sometimes the NavAids don't show up when the simulator is running. Thus, our intrepid programmer Chris was brought in.
Chris found that our simulator has a list of NavAids. When the simulator starts up, it reads the NavAids list from a file into memory, then as it flies, it uses that list to find the NavAids around it. Or, it's supposed to; clearly, that wasn't happening quite right.
Chris looked at the file which contained the NavAids, and discovered that they were not sorted. Or, at least, it seemed that way. After a bit of digging, he found out that the file's structure had never been documented, so some poor soul had had to figure out how to generate those files essentially blind. And that soul had never figured out what order the NavAids were supposed to be in. Dead end.
So Chris looked at the code which searches the NavAids list for a NavAid. To find the NavAid, it takes the NavAid's frequency (f) and the number of NavAids in the list (n) and performs the following calculation to get the NavAid's number:
(f - n * (f/n) ) * 3
Don't run screaming into the night; I don't like algebra either, but this is very straightforward.
Okay. Let's look at the middle of this calculation, which is the part calculated first:
n * (f/n)
Any number is the same as that number divided by one, so the above equation is the same as...
(n/1) * (f/n)
...which is the same as...
(n * f) / n
n
divided by n
is 1, so we can safely eliminate it, to get...
f
Now, let's plug that back into the full formula:
(f - f) * 3
Any number minus itself equals? Zero! 5-5=0, 27-27=0, etc. So, this complicated formula always evaluates to 0. Well, 0 times 3. Which is always zero.
But wait. It gets better.
Chris figured that maybe this was all a mistake in coding the formula. This C code was originally written in FORTRAN, so he looked at the original FORTRAN code and found the exact same formula. Weeeeird.
After banging his head against this problem for awhile, Chris started talking about it to some co-workers, one of whom, John, had been working with FORTRAN for years. John looked at the code and almost immediately said, "I know why it's doing that."
It turns out that FORTRAN's implementation of division has a unique property: when performed in a particular way, you get the remainder of the division, not the quotient. This formula was set up in that particular way.
Suddenly, everything came together in Chris' mind. The original FORTRAN programmers had stored the NavAids in the list using the remainder of the division of the NavAid's frequency by the number of items in the list. Then they'd used this hack to calculate that number and retrieve the appropriate NavAid from the list. Without explaining this anywhere.
When the code was migrated from FORTRAN to C, the formula was copied over exactly. And it compiled and worked perfectly. But the C compiler happily calculated the actual quotient, not the remainder. The hack no longer worked, so the formula always equalled zero.
Meanwhile, because the file was now being generated by a program that didn't know how to order the NavAids, they weren't being put into the list in the order that the formula expected them to be.
So finally Chris understood the problem, and went back to fix the code.
The moral of this story? Ask for help. Your co-workers can often save you days' or weeks' worth of pain and suffering.
And never use hacks.
So. AWANA.
Describing AWANA is kind of like describing the stock market. What approach do you take? Brokers? The trading floor? Shareholders?
Conceptually, AWANA is a church-oriented club where boys and girls can come, play games, and learn about the Bible.
Organizationally, AWANA is a weekly hour-and-a-half club meeting that's divided into three main periods: Game Time, Handbook Time, and Council Time. The kids play physical games during Game Time, they study Bible verses and moral issues during Handbook Time, and they listen to a mini-sermon and receive awards during Council Time.
This can all be very heavy-handed, if done wrong, of course. The goal is to provide a structure that doesn't restrict the kids. It's meant to be organized, but not oppressive.
(Heh. "Whereas OUR boys-and-girls club is meant to be oppressive!")
Anyvay. The club is subdivided into smaller clubs by age and sex. So, for example, I'm now in charge of the 5th- and 6th-grade boys mini-club, which is called the Pioneers. Which is apt, considering my personal theme song is I Am A Pioneer. Anyvay, I'm in charge of them during Handbook Time and Council Time.
Handbook Time is fine, because there are me and three other adults to which the kids can recite verses and try to annoy (both of which they do equally well). I have to keep the records straight, but that's just a matter of getting used to it. It's Council Time that's the real problem, as I have to come up with something to talk to the kids about.
I try to avoid Big Sermons, because A) they don't work, and B) I don't like them. I fall asleep while giving them; imagine how an eleven-year-old would react.
Instead, I've been playing snippets of anime or reading a Bible passage and asking the kids moral questions. It's worked well; the kids really get into it, and so do the adults. It's a good thing.
And now, more of the VR story.
Thomas' brows furrowed. His toolset was professional enough to keep out spam, so this was a real message. He pointed at the window and circled his arms in several broad swaths. His system was good enough to interpret large body movements, but nothing so fine-grained as finger gestures.
The system resolved the address of the unknown sender. It was Client D. He immediately punched at it twice with his right fist, and it popped open. Text only.
hi! how's it going?
Thomas narrowed his eyes. How annoying. Of all the people he felt like talking to right now, this was the last one.
As he stared at the IM, his lips curled in a frown, and a small flicker of anger flared somewhere deep within him. The more he stared at those four words, the more the anger grew, spreading wider and wider and hotter and hotter, until he shook his head and flipped a gesture at the computer. A circular keyboard glowed to life on top of the cylinder.
As he reached down to touch the keys, he heard people scuffling rapidly down the hall. As he turned, the door to his apartment slammed open and two very large Asian men wedged their way into the apartment. Each held a large pistol aimed at Thomas.
He turned to face them.
"Ahhhh," he said.
It was all he could think of to say. He knew he was supposed to make a witty remark at this point — "I knew I should have invested in a better lock," or "Make yourself at home." But the words refused to come. His brain had become exceedingly distracted by the pistols and refused to comment beyond that point.
I normally type up my entry during lunch, but today I have to pick up my parents at the airport at that time. So, an entry will be coming later today, including the next bit of the VR story.
Oooh! Now you too can own actual video footage of an alien encounter! Really! It's on eBay, so it must be true! And the video only costs $1.3M. For the first bid, y'know.
Here's the auction. Including a puff of smoke that's actually a "preSumer Naggas." There's a role-playing scenario in here somewhere, I just know it....
Okay. I'm feeling better today, thanks to the support of my Monday Group last night.
Katsucon was indeed fun. I bought a bunch of DVD's cheaply at the Dealer's Room, as well as models of the Turn-A Gundam and SUMO Mobile Suit from Turn-A Gundam. Until recently, I never saw any appeal in models, but after trying out a 1/144 scale Wing Gundam model and discovering the amazingly high level of detail and articulation in these models — and how easy they were to assemble to a former Lego Maniac like myself — I've begun appreciating the attraction.
I watched the first two episodes of Tenchi Muyo! GXP, which I enjoyed. The series has a wonderfully absurd sense of humor as it follows Seina, a young man with literally the worst luck ever. The show manages to keep this funny without turning it into a painful cliche.
And AWANA is going well. I'm becoming more familiar...hmmm. As I write this, I realize that my comments will make little sense without an explanation of the organization of the AWANA club. Perhaps I'll write that another time. Suffice to say that I am easing into my duties, and finding ways to accomplish them well.
Tog has a great new article titled "Top 10 Reasons To Not Shop Online," which highlights all the ways that internet buying can be inferior to brick-and-mortar retailing.
That's it from me today, alas. I had a relatively good time at Katsucon, though I'm still dealing with a pretty strong case of loneliness blues. I just can't bring myself to write today.
Steven points out that he prefers iTunes to Magnatune. I understand why; iTunes is a great solution, too. I just can't get used to buying music through an application. I prefer buying music off of a website. It seems less restrictive, somehow.
I'm...well, yesterday I was having a really bad time. A number of bad things have converged to suck the happines out of my life. I wasn't horribly depressed; just low. But for some reason, I got into work this morning and started organizing a few things, and now I feel fine.
I think part of it comes from my working a bit on the Syllable User's Bible, which needs a good reorganization. Though working on Cronan last night didn't help. Don't know.
Enough of this. If you like electronica/techno music, you might enjoy Cargo Cult; I'm currently listening to its album "Alchemy," which I bought yesterday for USD $10. You can listen to the entire thing online (hi-fi or lo-fi).
In other news, I've been using Mozilla Firefox at work, and I'm extremely impressed. The only feature missing is the ability to rearrange tabs. I also installed the mouse gesture module, and I must admit it's a killer feature. Very very cool. You right-click, move the mouse, and release the right mouse button. And voila — forward a page, back a page, reload document, close tab...it's all there.
Magnatune is a new record label with a simple catchphrase: "We are not evil."
Here's why the label was founded; essentially, it's an attempt to create a sane, good record label for the New Musical World. Half of all music revenue goes to the artist. You can buy and download the music directly off the site (in MP3, OGG, WAV, FLAC, or MP3-VBR), and you choose how much you want to pay for each album ($5 minimum; $8 recommended).
(One nice freebie with this system is that it solves a problem seen on sites like CD Baby — physical inventory and CDs that go out of print. With Magnatune, artists and distributors don't need to keep physical product, and there's no need to "retire" an album because it's not getting enough sales.)
I find it interesting that the tide of public opinion has turned so completely against the maisntream recording industry that the main record labels are literally considered evil. I recognize that that term's at least slightly ironic, but still. Wow. The record labels are mishandling things that badly.
They are. Really. The first thing I do with new CDs is to rip them to MP3s. My music collection is now digital; the CDs are just backups. And yet the recording industry seems to be fighting tooth and nail to minimize the use of digital music files.
It's too late. I don't know if Magnatunes will live long enough or sell enough music to prove that there's a new solution, but I hope it does. There has to be some solution.
New poll. Do you read the VR story?
I watched Jungle Emperor Leo last night, which is a brilliant film with a tortured history.
After kicking off the anime genre with Astro Boy, Osamu Tezuka created the first color anime series, Jungle Emperor (known as Kimba the White Lion in America). In 1966, they even retold several major events of the series in a feature film, Jungle Emperor Leo.
A few years after Tezuka's death, Disney released The Lion King, which is suspiciously similar to Jungle Emperor (even the titles). I say Disney lifted the characters almost whole, and about half the plot.
A few years after The Lion King was released, Tezuka Productions released a big-budget remake of Jungle Emperor, which clearly reflects certain aspects of The Lion King while telling a different part of the Jungle Emperor story. For example, the opening sequence — while apparently remaining true to the manga — is visually reminiscent of the "Circle of Life" sequence from The Lion King. In a later sequence, when a human doctor is innoculating a number of animals, the last two that he innoculates are a meerkat and a warthog (hinting at Timon and Pumbaa).
I feel like the Tezuka team decided to respond to The Lion King with animation rather than litigation. They could've sued Disney, and probably would have won. Instead, they competed on an animation level. And, frankly, Jungle Emperor Leo gives The Lion King a run for its money in terms of visual beauty and powerful storytelling.
Thomas closed his eyes and popped off his visor, then kept his eyes closed as he stripped off the rest of his VR gear. He opened his eyes slowly, to adjust to the harsh flourescent light of his room.
He sighed and tossed his two hundred-pound frame onto the frayed sheets of the metal bed that was shoved up against one wall of this fifteen-by-fifteen foot room. Three of the four walls were papered with posters for various singing idols—some of them real, some CG—in various stages of dress. He liked the CG idols for their sheer kitsch. The fourth wall was plain white. Stacks of magazines and papers created a miniature cityscape on the floor, with one wide boulevard leading from the front door to the bathroom, and a large space cleared in the corner where his VR gear was now laying. He sighed again, deeper and with more force this time, and stared up at the square of flourescent light beaming down from slightly off the center of the ceiling.
This was bad. It was so bad, it had never happened to him before. Then again, he had always been careful before. Nothing illegal. Well, nothing against which there was a specific law. He may've taken a few liberties with his access to peek around a few times, but never anything like this. Never anything that might put him in jail.
He swore to himself that this was definitely not worth ten thousand dollars.
A blue light began to pulse insistently on the two-foot cylindrical compuer that was standing at attention near the middle of the room. He frowned at it for a moment, as if blaming it for his recent troubles, then heaved himself out of bed and brushed a hand over the top of the cylinder. Infinitesimal beams of light glittered onto the white wall, creating a small window near the bottom, which read:
Pending Instant Message from (Unknown)
The difference between a bad blog and a good blog lies in commitment and purpose.
Some bloggers blog daily, and it seems to be natural for them to do so (see Lileks' Bleat). Some blog at least a few times a week. But most bloggers are wildly inconsistent. Why?
I think it's partly a matter of commitment. Most people aren't committed to their blogs. That's fine; bloggers don't have to be committed to their blogs. Chastising bloggers for a lack of commitment is like chastising kids because they don't play board games every day.
But then there are the folks who insist that they want to blog more often, but don't. Why don't they?
I think that's partly a matter of purpose. Some folks have blogs mainly because everyone blogs and they think it'd be cool if they blogged. Which is fine, but if that's the only reason you blog, what sort of content can you generate consistently?
Once I determined that I would use this journal as a daily writing exercise, I became much more consistent. But without a vision the people perish, to quote Hawaii's state motto.
That's why I think that the difference between a bad blog and a good blog lies in commitment and purpose.
What separates good entertainment from great entertainment?
I pondered this as, this weekend, I watched Animation Runner Kuromi 2, which is a comedic anime about the production of anime. It's by the brilliant director Akitaroh Daichi, who also created the fan-favorite spastic comedy Kodomo no Omocha and the powerful SF drama Now and Then, Here and There.
In ARK2, Kuromi is doing her best to juggle three production schedules, when the president of the studio hires an actual producer to take the pressure off Kuromi. But the producer is more interested in efficiency than creating great anime, and his actions culminate in a downgraded level of quality in the series.
The tension between artistic integrity and production schedules forms a common thread in the ARK films. In anime, you can either accept low quality and go home at a reasonable hour, or go for high quality but work nights and weekends to get it done in time. The ARK films prize the latter choice; you do what you need to do so you can create good entertainment.
So Kuromi eventually rebels against the producer and goes searching for the studio's director, who's taken a vacation. At one point during her search, Kuromi pauses, looks out over the city, and murmurs to herself, "I will create Japanese anime."
That moment surprised me with its power. I felt Kuromi's determination, and the underlying meaning of her words: anime has meaning. It's important. It's not just ink on paper; it's a work of art (at its best).
How did Daichi imbue that moment with such power? Setup, probably. He'd established all these pieces beforehand. But I'm not sure; I can't see the entire puzzle. I need to ponder this more.
Quick update: the Rintaro lecture was great, and a little surreal; one of anime's greats talked about anime and Japanese art for 2 hours, right there in front of me. Wow.
Well. After feeling rather down yesterday at work, I got home and had the best evening I'd had in weeks — cleaned dishes, did a load of laundry, wrote 300 words, added a feature to Cronan, and watched more of my MST3K collection ("Hamlet," in this case).
There's one unfortunate aspect to the MST3K collection, namely, each movie is introduced by Mike Nelson. But each introduction is about fifteen seconds long and Mike is apparently wearing no makeup since he looks frighteningly old. So here's this nice guy who barely has enough time to say, "The next movie you're about to see is <Movie Name>, and I laughingly remember that we used one character's name as an epithet ever aftewards. So, here's <Movie Name>." I want to ask Rhino, why bother? Was tape so precious you couldn't spend a few minutes filming Mike reminisce about the episode, or just some aspect of creating the show?
In other news, I'm excited about tonight — I'll be attending a lecture given by Rintaro (director of the anime version of Metropolis, among others). I have to take the subway in to D.C., which concerns me a bit, but I'm thrilled about the opportunity to listen to an anime great.
I'm in a bad place right now.
I don't know why. I think my cold set everything up: I'm constantly tired, and I can't stop an annoying cough. This has left me without the energy to write, which depresses me every time I think about it.
On the other hand, I only woke up two hours ago, and I'm still not quite awake yet (again, I blame my cold).
Last night, I stopped by Suncoast to buy some anime. And, I just realized, completely forgot to use my coupons, which is why I went to Suncoast in the first place. Arg. But anyvay, I picked up more Figure 17 and The Muppet Show and MST3K and Last Exile and the Trigun manga. All good picks. Also grabbed the latest Newtype, which contains a fascinating interview with Yoshiyuki Tomino (creator of Mobile Suit Gundam) about Gundam SEED, Turn-A Gundam, G Gundam, and others.
The MST3K I bought was specifically the 4th DVD collection, which contains 4 films. I watched the classics Overdrawn at the Memory Bank and Space Mutiny last night. As good (err, bad) as I remembered.
And that's it from me for today.
Instead of writing about Janet Jackson (and her now-legendary right breast bared in the Superbowl halftime show), I'm going to write about her brother Michael.
I have a theory about Michael Jackson. I think that his fundamental problem is cluelessness.
I mean that in a nice way. I think Michael is quite out of touch with mainstream society. Whether or not he's a pedophile, I think he literally doesn't see why anyone would think it odd for a grown man to share a bed with a bunch of kids.
Have you ever met someone who was judged guilty for something even though s/he was innocent, and literally cannot understand why? Some people act as though they expect that the truth is transparent and obvious to everybody. Sadly, it's not. I think that Michael Jackson is like that; he's convinced that what he's doing is okay, and can't see why anyone would misunderstand that.
This is what's meant by the phrase "perception is important." Even if you're right, people can reasonably assume you're not. If you don't think accordingly, you can get into very serious trouble even though you've done nothing wrong.
Thomas began to dance.
A person interacts with VR primarily with hand and arm motions, pointing at objects and gesturing in a particular way. Different gestures spark different responses. In fact, a major feature of teen chatrooms were hand-crafted objets that only responded to rude and obscene gestures.
Interacting with multiple objects is difficult, as each one may require a completely different gesture. As a result, manipulating several objects at once requires a complicated and delicate set of motions, as well as intense concentration. If someone is very good at this, these motions resemble a dance.
Thomas was very, very good at it.
Cartoon characters winked in and out before him. Windows sprang into existence, grew, shrank, and were gone. He began to sweat with the exertion. He was thinking several commands ahead so he could transition from one gesture to the next with minimum effort and motion, and waste no time with actions he could combine or prioritize more efficiently later.
Then the world disappeared, leaving a few dull green windows glowing in the inky black void. Thomas froze. Nothing moved for several seconds, and he lowered his arms.
He'd been shut out.
Saturday was completely unexpected. I'd intended to catch up on my writing, since my cold had kept my brain fogged all week. But my landlady lent me Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and after cracking the cover at 2 p.m., I didn't put it down until I'd finished it.
Which is not to suggest that The Order of the Phoenix is a mind-boggling book of staggering genius. It's definitely good, though; a rolicking adventure that deviates enough from the established Harry Potter formula to be interesting. There are several surprising revelations, with hints of more to come (I'm betting there's more to be revealed about Aunt Petunia). And Harry is very, well, very fifteen. A bit of a jerk, really, in the way of teenagers who are under a lot of stress.
I spent Sunday at my parents' house watching the Superbowl. I have only an intellectual interest in the game of football; I'll watch it to observe the strategy and tactics of the game, which are admittedly complex and fascinating at a level I don't see in other sports. But I only watch the Superbowl with my Dad, as that's an opportunity for us to do something together. Since our interests don't really match up, we have to find chances like this to bond.
And now I'm back at work, and a bit discouraged about my apparent inability to write on Saturdays. I'd planned to write 200 words a day on the weekdays and 1,000 words on Saturdays. I have no trouble with 200 words a day; I'm averaging more like 300. But Saturdays just aren't working, so I think I may switch to (at least) 200 words every day, including Saturday and Sunday. I don't seem to benefit from taking a day off from writing, so that would at least make up a bit.
200 words a day is about 70,000 words a year. Not bad. On the other hand, that doesn't include editing, it's not quite as much as a full-time fiction writer's output. On the gripping hand, I'm not a full-time fiction writer. 70,000 words is pretty darn good.
As reference: I wrote 6,800 words in January (and that's with six sick days off). If that rate holds, I'd write over 80,000 words a year.
The image accompanying today's entry is Harry Potter fanart from Ayne's Harry Potter Gallery, which is worth visiting just for the title image, which is a striking shot of the three heroes ready to kick some tail.
Wow. Neil Gaiman links to Ghost Town, a photo journey through modern Chernobyl. To quote Gaiman, "Without the photographs it would be like reading a piece of post-apocalyptic 60s or 70s SF. With the photos, it manages to become a journey into hell that I wanted to go on too." [sic]
All my regular journals haven't seen an update today (except for Lileks, of course, but even his update is a shockingly brief two pages), so I spent a few minutes browsing Lileks' photo archives. Jasper is just too cute.
As usual, I'm feeling better today. Mondays and Tuesdays are bad, as I have to deal with the Sunday-Monday marathon of church–parents–writing group–AWANA–work–Monday Group.
But last night I relaxed with another MST3k flick (The Girl in Gold Boots), and primed another book case, and wrote. More of that on my writing journal.
Now, more of the VR story (I'm going to save this, type up the story, and post it).
They slipped through dark alleys and along empty streets to a cheap little motel tucked away from the main roads. Doodlehopper took charge and checked in as Mrs. Alice Konaka and her husband. The mummy of a man behind the counter didn't even bat an eyelash at them, despite their age difference; he just wanted the room fee up-front. Thomas reflected that this looked like the sort of place that got a lot of older "husbands" and suspiciously young "wives" for the night.
Doodlehopper plopped herself down on the worn comforter of the first bed in the room, threw her arms up, and arched her back. Her vest hung loose from her shoulders and her curves seemed ready to burst through her black pullover. Thomas pointedly looked away and walked past her towards the only chair in the room, a thin, rickety thing of rusty aluminum.
He didn't bother to sit; he let himself fall into the chair, half-surprised that it held his weight, and massaged his temples for a moment. He opened his eyes to question the girl, only to find her sitting cross-legged with her hands in her lap, staring at him.
"You aren't gonna try to jump me, are you?" she asked suddenly.
"Err...what?"
"You know. You're not gonna try anything, are you?" she persisted.
He arched an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you break my arm if I tried?"
Her mouth curved into an impish grin, and she relaxed slightly. "I would, actually. But I didn't know if you knew that."
His pride made him smile now. "I'm a detective," he said. "Only in VR, but I'm still a detective. And I can tell that you not only have the muscles of a screeching kung fu star, you move like one."
His smile faded. "But seriously," he said, "you said you'd talk. What's going on?"
She gave him a perfect nonchalant Gallic shrug. "Can't say much, really. Somebdoy big wants you to die. I've been hired to make sure you don't."
He arched an eyebrow again. "Hired?"
She nodded "You're a VR detective, right?" she asked. He nodded, and she grinned. "I'm the real-life thing, baby." She put a finger to her lips in a Marilyn Monroe parody of thoughtfulness. "Well, that's not quite right. I do lots of other stuff, too. Like this, which is really more like babysitting when you think about it." She paused. "No offence."
Writing Thoughts
Wai wai!
I had a goal for this month's writing: to beat my past record of words written per month. I've only been keeping such records since December, and the most I'd written in one month was 6,800 words.
I am proud to report that, as of yesterday, I wrote 7,300 words in the month of March. And that's with ten days unable to write after eye surgery.
The Exorcist in 30 seconds, re-enacted by bunnies.
3:08 p.m.
Just updated my links page with links to various weblogs and Mac-related sites I visit, among other sites. I also updated a number of URLs on my anime art links page.
2:39 p.m.
Hmm. Telltale Weekly is sort of an audiobook version of Project Gutenberg . Recordings are available in MP3 and Ogg Vorbis formats, with one-minute previews. You have to pay a small fee for each recording, until the recording's been around for awhile or gotten a significant amount of cash. It's a great idea. I'm considering recording a story for it.
Wait...what? You want actual updateage? Oh, all right, if you insist. One moment while I set down the Proust and finish the glass of whiskey and soda....
See, that's funny, ha ha, because I've just had a pretty darn rough weekend. Saturday was a remarkable day full of activity; I'd filled up my to-do list and just hacked away at it like a jungle guide with a machete. I was busy from the moment I got up until two hours before I went to sleep.
This was good, but Sunday was busy as well with out-of-the-house duties — church, writing group, AWANA. And then the bomb fell; three of the kids in my group just wouldn't stop distracting each other and chatting while they were supposed to be studying (or at least keeping quiet so others could study). I made the mistake of allowing this to continue for far too long, then I told them they wouldn't be getting any candy rewards that night. That worked. But it was dispiriting. I hate having to do that sort of thing, and I wish I hadn't waited so long to introduce some sort of (ideally, milder) punishment.
Monday morning, I made another mistake: I worked through breakfast, then had a big, greasy lunch. I could barely focus on the computer screen all afternoon. Then I had to run to the grocery store to get supplies for Monday Group, then took the subway in to D.C. We had a good time, both relaxing and thought-provoking, but I didn't get home until midnight.
So. Today. I'm not doing badly, really; I don't feel like chewed gum like I often do on Tuesdays. But I do feel battered, like an old ship that's creaking and groaning from overuse and in need of a rest and a refitting.
So, even though I'm low on hours this week, I think I'm going to go home early today and rest up. I need it far more than I need the money at work.
Good luck on Wednesday, Chris!
It's a beautiful day. It's the sort of day you expect for the benevolent return of Christ — the first day of the year when pants are just too hot, really.
I'm only working half of today, since I put in quite a few hours earlier in the week. And, no, I won't exult that it was worth it; those times stuck in the office, blearily banging on the keyboard, sucked. Was four hours of drudgery worth four hours of time off? I honestly can't say.
Besides, I'll be spending this afternoon running errands. I'm buying toys for my AWANA kids to reward them for finishing their workbooks, and I need to stop by the bank, and I really need to stop by a net cafe so I can take care of some online business through my laptop.
All that work will be worth it if I can finish all my errands today, so that I can stay home all day Saturday and just enjoy the day. I treasure my free Saturdays now.
...Erm. And I've just run dry, so I'll stop here.
OK, lots to talk about today.
First up, The Passion. I haven't seen it yet, but I'm amazed at its ability to create soapboxes. Every review and article I've read about The Passion is a commentary about some aspect of the movie; I have yet to find a straight review of the film as a film, comparing it to Mel Gibson's intentions. People seem intent on seeing it exclusively through one particular lens.
Case in point: an article in The Wall Street Journal in which several scholars complain about various aspects of The Passion. In the scene in which Jesus is being questioned by the high priest, Diane Wudel (New Testament scholar at Wake Forest University Divinity School) says that the viewer gets "an altered question, an answer from Mark, a trial from Luke and a dialogue from John."
Well, um, which one of those books is the authority on that trial, Prof. Wudel? Do you read only the Luke account and reject the others? Or do you acknowledge that each is a perspective on events, and that the exact wording and exact order of events are not as important as the truths underlying the story?
Bill Leonard, dean of Wake Forest, an ordained Baptist minister and Baptist historian, complains, "When you limit the gospel story only to the crucifixion—when you don't have the story of the prodigal son, the words of the Sermon on the Mount, it doesn't tell the story that Jesus shows us waht God is like. The love of God is not simply revealed in the brutality of the cross."
He's absolutely right. But that's not the point of the film.
It's not called The Life of the Christ. It's not called The Resurrection of the Christ. It's about the Passion, the days leading up to and including the crucifixion. Maybe some of these folks have forgotten their ecumenical terminology and assume that the word "passion" is just a neat word and not a specific term.
How does the film work as a film about the passion? From what I hear, it works pretty darn well.
Meanwhile, the magicians are in a huff (surprisingly, the full Wall Street Journal article is available here, thanks to MLive.com).
Essentially, a small Houdini museum in Houdini's home town of Appleton, Wisconsin is putting up an interactive exhibit of Houdini's "Metamorphosis" trick. This is the illusion in which the magician is wrapped in a sack, then placed in a large padlocked box which is checked by volunteers, and then after a few moments behind a curtain, swaps places with the assistant outside. The box is then unlocked and the assistant is found inside, wrapped inside the sack.
The illusion is, like most illusions, quite straightforward once you realize where the illusion really is. The illusion lies in believing that the person in the box is still wrapped in the sack the whole time. As soon as Houdini was locked in the box, he got out of the sack, ready to get out of the box. Of course, the box had a cleverly concealed trap door. When the curtain concealed them, Houdini would slip out the trap door and the assistant would slip in. Houdini whipped the curtain aside while the assistant was still wriggling into the sack, and she had plenty of time to do so as the padlocks were removed from the box.
But the magicians have rabbits coming out of their ears in horror at the idea of a secret of magic being revealed to any old passers-by who pays the fare. Nevermind the fact that the trick is a century old, of course.
Like any good magic trick, there's more to this story than meets the eye. Over the decades, "Metamorphosis" has become a rite of passage for magicians. Once a magician has successfully staged his or her own version of "Metamorphosis," s/he is generally considered to be a pro. Thus, as everyone sees how "Metamorphosis" is done, a significant bit of the magicians' internal culture is wiped away. The audiences will yawn at this one; they know how it's done.
The real problem here is that the magic community has stagnated. There was a day when magicians invented dozens of tricks by themselves, and were constantly wowing audiences with novelty. In fact, one of the reasons why the great magicians like Robert Houdin were so popular for so long is the fact that they'd keep introducing new illusions into their acts, so patrons could return the next year and find new delights to amaze them.
But the magic community has lost its edge. Now, magicians learn a bag of existing tricks, and make little (if any) effort to invent anything new. When was the last time you saw a magician who wasn't dressed in something like a tuxedo?
I spent a good amount of my childhood reading up on magic. I have a few books of magic tricks at home. The last time I saw a magician, I recognized
every
single
one
of his tricks.
This is like a band that only plays other bands' music. It's pathetic.
Light. I feel like a grunge band. All anger and frustration. Sorry about that.
So I'll end with a light item, followed by a link. First up: India and Pakistan.
No, really. There's a big cricket match going on right now between India and Pakistan, and it's being held in Pakistan. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, what with their nuclear bickering being only the largest of many looming points of contention.
But it's going great. The Pakistani crowds have applauded the Indian team when it's doing well, and the entire situation has thus far been an entirely civil affair. To quote The Wall Street Journal:
Thousands of Indian fans, armed with special short-stay "cricket visas," have traveled in the past 10 days to Karachi, Rawalpindi, Lahore, and even Peshawar—only a missile's lob away from the lawless tribal regions where Pakistani soldiers are gunning it out with a Taliban/al Qaeda rump. They've painted their faces in India's national colors, waved the Indian flag under the very noses of Pakistanis, and cheered lustily for their team in Pakistani stadiums—where they have been vastly outnumbered, naturally, by the home supporters.
...the Pakistani public has extended such a warm embrace to fans from across the border that many Indians—according to reports in the Delhi newspapers—are finiding it difficult to encounter restaurateurs and taxi drivers who will accept their money. "You are our guests," they've been told, again and again. "We cannot charge you."
And finally, ever wished that somebody who understood poetry, really understood it, could sit down with you and explain how it works, as best anyone can tell, and maybe even inspire you to write some? He did, and it's on the web.
I've surprised myself by being rather alert today. Considering that I've spent a grand total of maybe four waking hours in my apartment over the past three days, I'm impressed with myself. I should be one of the walking dead right now.
Work continues to go well, now that I'm not starting it off with more fun personal pursuits. Brief though they might be each day, they set a tone. Now, working all day isn't a Herculean effort.
I've spent a few hours over the last two days working on a clone of the flagship product made by my last company. I never did understand why it took them so long to develop it. Actually, I think I do: they pre-optimized everything, which slowed down development drastically. Everything had to scale enormously, and speed suffered.
Anyvay, my clone is now feature-complete. It certainly doesn't do everything CrossPoint did, but it does the basics: Entering tasks, moving them around, updating percent completes, and having all the parents' percent completes update appropriately.
Pretty cool.
He hit the ground floor with both feet, then stepped forward to give her room. She landed like a cat, light and graceful, then zagged past him and yanked open the heavy steel door that led outside.
They crept out into the brisk air of early autumn and the chorus of man-made noises that peremeates the modern city. Thomas shivered for a moment, then found himself sliding to his left and stumbled to the cold pavement. He threw a hand out and managed to catch himself on the rough brick of the apartment complex, and only half-fell to the ground. His eyes were unfocused, and his breath came only in deep, ragged gasps.
Doodlehopper was by his side in an instant, her face clouded with concern as she peered down at him. "You okay?" she asked. "Went too fast on the stairs, huh?"
He shook his head, but couldn't catch enough breath to answer just yet. She stayed motionless, waiting patiently. A small part of his mind wondered why she wasn't impatient to keep moving.
After a few moments he had enough breath to say, "Can't...take it all...in." He looked up at her, his expression like that of a child who's just realized he can't find his parents. Openly scared and confused. "What's going on?" he asked.
The girl's face broke into a compassionate smile. "C'mon," she said. "Let's find somewhere to hole up, and I'll talk."
I've been going through quite a lot in the past couple of days. After an intense weekend, I had an immeasurably more intense Monday Group. Two of the folks in the group are having a really rough time right now. We ended up just talking about what we want and need from each other, as a small community, to support each other and build each other up. It was good, but powerful and spiritually exhausting.
I've also been making some changes at work. I used to check my personal e-mail first thing, so I could get it done with and out of the way. But I've realized that I tended to get distracted by personal business as a result, and had trouble getting back on the ball with work.
So now, I wait until lunch to do my e-mails. That's working pretty well thus far; with a couple of hours of work under my belt, it's easier to return to work after a brief e-mail excursion.
That's all for now.
I literally cannot write a long entry today; I had a wonderful but jam-packed-full weekend, and now it's the end of the day at work and I really need to get home in time to pick up my materials and head out for Monday Group.
Briefly: I had my 10,000th Day Party on Saturday, celebrating ten thousand days alive. I had a great time with about twenty friends, who all chatted and ate. We had glistening ham, a variety of good hearty breads, a lovely smattering of cheeses from Colby to Brie to some sort of odd paté, dozens of cookies, and good strong wines and ales and liquers and even several bottles of mead.
I crashed at my parents (which is where the party was held; my apartment wasn't nearly large enough) for the night, then zipped by my apartment with barely enough time to breathe before driving to church, then to lunch with a friend, then to my writing group, then to AWANA. I got back home and, after eating a late dinner and writing a paltry few hundred words, collapsed into bed.
As a result I overslept this morning, and worse, I had an appointment with my eye doctor in the middle of the afternoon. So I've only spent half a day here at work. Blah. Tuesday through Thursday are going to be looong days, since I have another eye doctor checkup appointment this Friday. At least my eyes are doing better; they're just healing at the pace of 33-degree blackstrap molasses.
Instead of a real update today, I'll summarize a few things that happened to me yesterday. Which, now that I think about it, is a real update.
Yesterday I had a post-post-post-post-post-op appointment at the Lasik Vision Institute, where they checked on my azure blue orbs (thank you, Jim Theis). But not until they'd made me wait for an hour. Oh well; the Highlander series was on the waiting room TV, and that's always an entertaining way to wile (sp?) away an hour. Highlander is like surprisingly good generic brand chips; they don't take the place of truly great stuff like Doritos or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but before you know it you've eaten the whole bag, and darn it if they didn't taste pretty good.
My eyes are fine; I just have "the slowest-healing epithelial layer in the universe," according to the surgeon. As a result, I have to keep the eye extremely well-lubricated with lots of drops and even a gel I get to smear onto my inner eyelid every night. But I am healing, and my eyesight is improving. I can drive at night now, for example, without the headlights looking like marine flares.
I had to work late to make up for the long doctor visit, plus getting in an extra hour so I could take off early on Friday, so when I got home I was exhausted. I ended up popping DVDs into my DVD player and watching 'em all night.
I finished watching the first five episodes of Tenchi GXP, the new spin-off series in the Tenchi universe. It's genuinely new and entertaining, and it's clearly steeped in the Tenchi universe, with multiple references to previous Tenchi works in every episode (the female head of the GP Academy casually mentions that she's Yosho's wife). It's directed by the director of Excel Saga, and it shows; GXP is tilted more towards comedy than previous Tenchi works.
I then popped in a DVD of Snake and Eagle's Shadow, one of Jackie Chan's first starring films. And discovered that I'd been boondoggled. While the packaging suggested that this was Jackie's film, it's actually a sequel that contains a few scenes of Jackie Chan fighting from the previous film. No Jackie Chan to be found anywhere in the main film. I was irate.
So I popped in Jackie Chan's Gorgeous, which immediately soothed my rage. It starts out like a Studio Ghibli film; a young dreamy girl finds a romantic message in a bottle and on impulse follows it to Hong Kong. After discovering that the message was intended for a guy instead of a girl, she rescues a dashing businessman (Chan), and begins to pursue him. It's a much less zany film than most of Chan's adventures, partly because his character is suave and sophisticated, so there's very little bumbling tomfoolery. Also, Chan's primary antagonist is an incredibly fast-moving American kickboxer, so the two big fights contain less acrobatics and more straight punching and kicking than usual. I liked it, as a pleasant (and very pleasantly filmed) change from typical Jackie Chan fare.
And that's all for today. Toodles!
And just to show you what happens when anyone can self-publish: Strange Comes the Emissary.
1:36 p.m.
I thought of a great subject for a journal entry yesterday. And today, of course, it's gone.
Had something to do with Gundam, though, I think. And yes, I remember that I wrote a pitifully short review of it yesterday.
Hmm. Umm.
I wrote some yesterday. That's not news, except for the fact that I wrote 800 words in the past two days. I can normally only eke out 200 a day or so.
What's led to the increase in writing productivity? An outline. Years ago, before the Great College Writing Drought, I used to write everything according to an outline of some sort. I didn't finish anything, but I think that was due more to procrastination than a fault with the outlines.
In the past few months, I've been able to write, but I've had trouble finishing anything, I think primarily because I haven't known where I was going in any of my stories. Now I've brought the outline back, and it seems to be improving my productivity drastically.
Now to see if it will continue.
Lileks is the only blogger I know who could turn a castoff 60's pen into an idea for a novel (except maybe Neil Gaiman).
I finished watching the original Mobile Suit Gundam series yesterday evening.
It was quite a journey. I was frankly blown away at the mature storytelling in Gundam — and it's not "mature" in the sense of blood and guts. Mobile Suit Gundam is about war, in all its folly and nobility. The other Gundam series are clearly doing their best to live up to the original Gundam, and I don't think any of them have come close to equalling it.
The series excels in practically every area except perhaps animation quality ("perhaps" because it was, after all, made twenty-five years ago; there wasn't all that much one could do with animation back then) and directing style. I'm incredibly impressed.
And now, on to the VR story, where the girl Doodlehopper has managed to save Thomas and they are now fleeing his apartment.
She hissed and yanked him into a side hallway, then shoved him into a doorway and slammed herself into the meager cover it allowed. She slipped her right hand into her jacket and held it there, and for a moment only breathed. Thomas decided it wisest to press himself against the door and stay just as silent as her.
Footsteps thundered down the hall they'd just vacated. They sounded like linebackers charging a quarterback. They ran past the side hallway within which Thomas and the girl were barely breathing, and Thomas could only see nondescript jeans and sweatshirts hanging off massive bodies. These guys could withstand some serious punishment. He wondered why they needed to.
The thundering pack had barely passed their hallway when Doodlehopper leapt forward, pulling Thomas with her, bolted towards the intersection, and ran down the hallway away from the Linebackers From Hell. He glanced back over his shoulder, horrified that they might notice the escapees, but he could see those huge shapes retreating down the hallway without so much as slowing down.
They approached the elevators at high speed, but Doodlehopper veered away and slammed her body into the door leading to the staircase, banging it open. Thomas winced in sympathy, but far from seeming hurt, she gathered up the force of his piling into her body and redirected it, pushing him towards the top of the stairs.
He took the first few steps one at a time, then she pushed him again and he found himself falling more than stepping down the stairs, barely keeping himself on his feet as he leapt down three or four steps at a time. And she was right behind him.
My eyes are continuing to improve, though it seems to be going slowly. On the other hand, what else should I expect? Immediate, perfect vision? I must learn more patience.
I cleaned for most of last night, after figuring that a dusty apartment probably does my eyes no good. I enjoy cleaning, in a way; it's a straightforward job that makes my environment more enjoyable.
I wanted to finish watching Mobile Suit Gundam last night, but my eyes only allowed me to watch one episode with five remaining. Frustrating. It's a brilliant show, and I can't wait to find out how it ends.
I'm gearing up for my 10,000th Day party this Saturday, celebrating my ten thousandth day alive. I've invited practically everyone I know, and I have 22 confirmed attendees thus far. I hope it'll be fun.
That's all I can make myself write at the moment, I'm afraid.
Seth Godin relates Janet Jackson's appearance on Good Morning America to branding. This is why I like reading his blog: always on-topic.
Mesa back.
Well. That was an ordeal. I damaged my left eye last Wednesday, which prolonged my recovery by about a week and a half. My right eye is now about 20/30, but my left eye is still very blurry. But at least they're both recovering; my eyesight is getting better every day, and I can work now.
But it's been a long, discouraging road. Last Wednesday, I regretted having the surgery. It wasn't worth the pain, inconvenience, and doctor visits when all I'd had to do before was slip on my glasses in the morning.
But now, as my eyesight improves, I'm excited about it. There's something new about it. It's as though a new phase of my life is opening before me.
Now, to work.
The Hacker's Diet is not a joke, and my cursory scan makes it look quite sound. The frames-based version is much better than the non-frames version.
My eye surgery went relatively well, but due to a minor eye condition, my eyes are much more delicate than the average person's, and are healing much more slowly than most peoples' eyes. Fortunately, I can stay at my parents for the duration.
I'm frustrated, though. I was expecting to be able to drive the next day; I still can't ee straight, and my eyes have occasional lances of pain. If I didn't have my parents to talk to and read to me (Jackie Chan's and T.E. Lawrence's autobiographies), I'd be thoroughly depressed. As it is, I'm just annoyed and somewhat impatient.
QUEEN AMIDALA SHAREHOLDER steps up to the podium and clears her throat.
I call for a vote of no-confidence in Chancellor Michael Eisner.
Approximately 43 percent of the audience rises to its feet and cheers.
I'm reading a neat book called Atlantis Destroyed by Rodney Castleden. It's essentially a search for the historical Atlantis, canvassing historical civilizations for reasonable candidates. It's a solid, rigorously fact-based book, though sometimes to a fault; Castleden's style tends towards the ponderous academic. But I find it an exciting subject, and Castleden retains a sense of adventure in his writing at the best of times.
And now, more of the VR story. Oh, and VOTE! On the right.
"What?" said Thomas, blinking, as they stumbled forward into the hallway. He cursed himself. He was not being the suave, sophiticated James Bond type here.
"We can't stay here," she repeated matter-of-factly, stopping at the door to glance up and down the hallway. "There will probably be more of them."
"More of who?" Thomas asked, endeavoring to be polite to the girl with a vise-like grip on his forearm.
She gave a frustrated sigh, pulling him behind her as she made her way down the hall and glanced every which way except at him. "They wanna kill you. And we can't have that, now can we?"
As smart as Thomas was, it took him a moment to process this, but quickly enough he wholeheartedly concurred. The poor man was a bit out of his depth. He could handle online adventures of practically any type; real men with real guns were rather more than he was used to.
"Excuse me," he said, still endeavoring to be polite as he was yanked down the hallway of the partment complex, "but who are you?"
"Y.T.," she said.
He blinked. "No," he began.
She grinned, still not looking at him. "Nah, just kidding. Online, I'm Doodlehopper."
"Doodlehopper?"
"Yeah!" She seemed to pull harder. "So, it's a little...juvie. Whatever. I've had it forever. Four years now."
Thomas' thirty-four-year-old inner wisdom groaned at this, but he thought it wise to let it pass.
I played hookie from Monday Group last night; 'twas psychically exhausted. Don't know exactly why, either. I haven't been particularly busy lately. Perhaps it's my upcoming laser eye surgery on Friday.
But instead I laughed 'till I coughed at selected episodes of The Critic. The entire show is available on DVD for a manufacturer's suggested retail price of USD $50.
I had forgotten how hilarious this show is. The humor zips by so quickly, I was grateful for the DVD as I could rewind and play some jokes again.
Huh. This looks...oddly...familiar.
In other news....
There are certain books that either you read at a certain point in your childhood and becomes a sparkling treasure you hide in your heart which shapes the rest of your life, or you read it later in life and completely forget it within six months.
It seems to me that The Broothers Lionheart falls squarely into this category. And, since my childhood is over, you can probably tell I'm not amazingly enthused by it.
Which is not to say it's a bad book. It's the story of two boys who die in this world and find themselves in the fantasy world of Nangiyala, which begins as an idyllic land but is soon thrown into chaos by an evil king whom the boys must help to vanquish.
The book is by Astrid Lindgren, the author of Pipi Longstocking, among other stories. She weaves a delicate tale, which certainly has heart to spare; it's an emotional ride as the protagonist (the younger of the brothers) observes the world around him. It's a good object lesson in the true nature of heroism; the protagonist has an understandably immature view of heroism, and the author does an admirable job of making the reader almost want to scream corrections at him.
But underpinning all of this is a disturbing philosophical system. Besides sending the reader through the depression of two boys' deaths, the end of the book seems to encourage suicide as an escape from loneliness to a better world. It seems strange that a book which prizes self-sacrificing heroism suggests that, when you're not fighting for ideals but are personally hurting, you should just give up and die.
Ah well. That aside, The Brothers Lionheart was a good book, with good adventure and a good heart. Overall, I would recommend it, with certain philosophical reservations.
Been a bad week for journal updates. As usual, this is because (A) it's really been a bad week, and (B) I haven't actually been busy, per se. I usually post when I'm most active and busy.
So. What has been going on, you ask?
Work's sucked. I'm trying to get a feel for the amount of documentation work left to do, and some of the developers are a bit prickly about providing exact estimates. Ironically, after baring their prickers, they then give me excellent estimates. :sigh:
This, of course, affects everything else. I come home feeling like a wet dishrag after a day of dealing with this. All I want to do is watch MST3K and The Critic.
However, I've been paying better attention to the role of rest in my life, and as a result I've kept up with chores and writing.
Even so, this weekend will be a major relief.
More of the VR story:
They stopped and Thomas replied to absolutely nothing, "This is a friend. I want to show her around, nothing more. I think she would be useful."
Doodlehopper shot him a look that managed to combine worry and annoyance, but he grinned and waved it away. The air was still, but Thomas didn't move forward and Doodlehopper was following his lead.
"No," the voice intoned. "You are still new to this world. You may stay, but she must go."
Thomas worked his jaw for a moment. He hadn't thought about this. They were a clannish bunch. His mind sought desperately for alternatives, but he could think of nothing.
"Please?" he said, finally settling on simple honesty. "I really, really need her along with me."
They heard a sonorous, rather impressive, but melodramatic sigh. "Oh come on," the voice said, losing some of its depth and gaining a nasal tone. "These are the rules. This isn't a democracy, you know. We make the rules, you abide by them. Do you want to get in, or not?"
"Look!" Thomas exclaimed, desperation creeping into his voice. "I'm in a lot of trouble, and I need you—"
He felt something tug at his temples, and suddenly he was looking at Doodlehopper, who was giving him the most outraged look he'd ever seen as she held the VR goggles she'd torn from his head. They were back in the hotel, disconnected from the VR world.
They then had a fight which was too ugly to record here. She could hardly believe that he would blab to a group of strangers that he was in trouble, and he couldn't see why she was so dead-set against getting help from a group of strangers.
Their fight was mercifully interrupted by an impatient blue light that flashed on the wall, next to the VR jack. They glanced at each other, then Thomas slipped his goggles back on to see that they had a message.
Sorry about that. We'll help.
...Tanjit! Forgot to post a VR story entry today. I should be able to do that tomorrow.
It's been a bear of a day at work; a co-worker's comments completely dispirited me. But, after some time spent driving around and arguing with him in my head, I don't feel upset anymore. Everyone on this deathmarch is stressed.
Magnatune just added a few new artists. Beat Under Control plays excellent "jazz/dub intense electro funk." As weird as that sounds, it works. Meanwhile, Rob Costlow's piano pieces sound like professional movie scores. Both highly recommended.
Had a good day at work today. I normally start the day with personal e-mails, but found that this ruins my work attitude. I just can't start working if I've started on my e-mails. So, I eschewed personal e-mails until late in the day, and by golly it worked; I've been quite productive all day.
Which is good, because I'm in the middle of a mini-crisis at work. One of the higher-ups shot out a horrified e-mail complaining about the current documentation status...just before leaving on vacation for a week. I replied in a way that should calm him down, but meanwhile some of us sat down and brainstormed ways of representing ourselves better.
It's a common business problem: How do you let everyone else know what's going on, in a way that makes sense to them?
Our solution is to beef up my clone of Intersect's flagship product, CrossPoint (please forgive the turgid marketing speech on that page; I didn't write it). Instead of tracking tasks by "percent complete" (which can change its meaning depending on how complicated the task is) to "hours". We'll track how many hours each task will take, and the number of hours worked on each task per week. We can calculate the real percent complete from that.
This will bring my application ever closer to its eventual adoption by the entire company, and a pay increase with it! Muahahahaha!
Anyvay. On top of this, I discovered that one of our customers completely misunderstands certain MS Word features we're using in our documentation, and I have to figure out a way to explain this to her gently in a way that doesn't suggest that she's an idiot, or that I'm a know-it-all who's trying to force her to use these features.
But I'm feeling better, overall. I'm eager to write more of the VR story, despite the fact that it's the least "marketable" of all my stories. That is...well, it's a reprint. But I won't get into that story today; I've written enough for now.
Yes, yes, I need to write a good journal entry. For now, I'm going to post this quote while I write something wortwhile:
'Twas going to post a long, rambling screed about me and what's going on with me.
Then I read this Washington Post report:
The House of Representatives passed a measure Thursday to ensure Congress can continue its work if many lawmakers perish in a terrorist attack. But opponents warned that the bill would not prevent a power vacuum at a time the country could least afford one.
In other words, opponents complain that the bill would not prevent a power vacuum if many lawmakers died suddenly.
Um, duh?
What do the opponents want? A law that legislates normal operations of government after a nuclear strike?
There's a quote attributed to Voltaire that applies here: The Best is the enemy of the Good." More accurately, the quest for perfection usually precludes work on a solution that works now.
From what I can tell, lawmakers passed a reasonable law, essentially calling for special elections within 45 days of a massive death toll (defined as at least 100 dead out of the House's 435 members). Not that we couldn't anyway, but this provides a battle plan: if a bunch of representatives snuff it, we all hold special elections in a month and a half to elect new ones.
Are there potentially better solutions? Sure. Opponents suggest the immediate instatement of temporary replacements. But even that is at least questionable — who picks these people? I can easily see a Palpatine taking advantage of this sort of situation to choose a lot of convenient replacements who can enact some very nasty legislation within 45 days.
Anyvay, the point is that the opponents appear to want to wait until somebody comes up with the best possible solution, rather than adopt a reasonable solution now.
I say: No. You deal with your current situation as best you can. And if your solutions don't work in the future, you fix them.
Good entry on Whatever about writer's workshops, particularly regarding a tiff within a Gene Wolfe workshop.
Arrrrg. Started writing a journal entry yesterday, and my computer froze before I saved it.
My eyes have continued to frustrate me. I still hold the record for slowest-healing eyes in the universe, and that's impacted darn near everything in my life. I can't work, or read, or write for more than half an hour at a time now, as my eyes get tired quickly.
And it's pushed me into a blue period for the past couple of days. I'm not depressed, really. My brain is processing a lot, so I've been emotionally okay, just distracted and only partially engaged in whatever I'm doing.
But these periods are best met by recognizing them and responding to them, finding new ways to deal with changes, and using them as whetstones to sharpen ourselves on. So, I'm working and reading and such in smaller chunks now. Seems to be working.
He blew out a big sigh and looked around, squinting at the empty azure sky. "Not quite. Hack-and-slashes are games. This is more of a shared environment. But it's not just any shared environment; it's the oldest and most respected one out there."
"So what?" she asked, looking back at him with real curiosity.
He turned his back to her. She could not see him grin as he explained, "Only the best play here."
She rolled her eyes.
"Not just in terms of experience," he added quickly. "To play here, you have to be smart, and you have to have been around awhile." He paused. "Just my kind of people."
"Do you have to walk everywhere in this world?" Doodlehopper asked, scuffing her feet as they strode over the gently rolling emerald hills towards one particularly high mountain.
Thomas grinned. "Actually, yes."
She scolwed and glanced behind them for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I don't like it."
Thomas looked up at the cloudless sky again, then down at the small clusters of daisies that grew in patches in the grass. "I kind of like it," he said.
She threw him a questioning glance, and he explained, "They want you to experience this world. Everything here is so carefully crafted. Hey, look up."
He pointed at the blue sky above them, where they could just make out the dot of a bird leisurely wheeling hundreds of feet in the air. "Most games," he said, "will put birds in the sky. Some games will create birds that circle realistically. But here...if you stayed here and just watched that bird, you'd be able to follow it back to its nest. It would have a nest. It might have a mate, and it might be raising young. That's the kind of detail they put into this place. This isn't just the background for a random monster fight; this entire world is a home."
She had nothing to say to that, and they continued in comfortable silence for a minute or so, until out of nowhere a sonorous, bell-like voice called out, "One of you is recognized. The other is not. Explain yourselves."
(In other news...tanjit, two new blogs to add to the daily roster: Patricia Nielsen-Hayden's "Making Light" and John Scalzi's "Whatever". "Whatever" includes a brilliant article, Even More Long-Winded (But Practical) Writing Advice.)
I need to write a letter to Ray Bradbury.
Just, in general.
Imagine, just out of interest, spidering Microsoft.com for Microsoft Word documents. Then, keep only the documents that have Track Changes (a feature where old text is kept within the document, and you can see who's made what changes). Then, turn the Track Changes on, and look through those documents to see what's changed in them.
Here's the result. There have been some interesting changes to various press releases.
Well. I'm feeling better today, somewhat. It's more a matter of having a good day in the midst of bad ones, but at least it's a good day.
And, in terms of weather, it is a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky, a warm sun, and an occasional bracing breeze. Mmmm.
I watched Katsuhiro Otomo's Memories last night. It's a set of three short films strung together as a theatrical release. The first is a weird and haunting piece written by Satoshi Kon (Perfect Blue, Millenium Actress, Tokyo Godfathers), the second is a fun little comedy about a walking biohazard, and the third is a unique, experimental short about a Soviet-like society of constant, grinding, pointless military production. They were all excellent, in their own way.
Only the third was actually directed by Otomo (creator of Akira), and ironically, I liked it least. It was much more experimental than the others; it felt like a student film full of long, sweeping shots, minimal dialogue, and (purposefully) ugly character designs.
Within the goggles, he saw he stood in the center of a rectangular grey room, about twenty feet square. Of course, the goggles were cheap, and didn't completely enclose his eyes, so he could still see their motel room at the extreme top and bottom of his vision. But the eye is easily fooled, and Thomas knew that after a few minutes of staring at the image that dominated his vision, his brain would automatically block out the "superfluous" bits of reality at the edges.
He realized then that he needed the gloves that still lay in the drawer. The girl watched him. He tried to maintain his dignity by reaching in for the gloves without moving his head, but his hands couldn't find them, and he ended up fumbling around in the drawer until bumping up next to them, then he peered around the edges of his glasses and awkardly manhandled the gloves on.
Doodlehopper smirked as she whipped out her own gloves and slipped them on, then slid on goggles.
Finally, his gloves were on. He wiggled his fingers for a moment, an unconscious gesture he always made when first jacking in, then touched his fingertips together in a rapid succession of twitches.
He stood on a square stone platform. Four large granite pillars stood guard at each corner of the square, and gentle rolling hills stretched towards jagged purple mountains all around them. Overhead, the sky was clear and blue.
Next to him stood a stunning young woman, wearing what amounted to a purple-and-bronze bikini on her chestnut skin. Her body was covered in white marks and her hair was the same light purple of the mountains.
She looked at him and burst out laughing. He arched an eyebrow at her. "What?" He asked, shrugging his seven-foot form, completely enshrouded in a black cloak.
"You look ridiculous!" she hooted, then looked down at herself. "Ugh!" she exclaimed. "This isn't one of those hack-and-slash games, is it?"
And hell just froze over (see the final paragraph). I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins after seeing this announcement.
I finished watching Turn-A Gundam last night.
Turn-A was the 20th anniversary Gundam series, and as such, it is itself a commentary on the Gundam franchise. The creators seem to be saying, "Look, we've been showing you the horrors of war for twenty years. When are you going to get the point?"
It's a remarkably well-balanced series, too. The plot's always moving, and the characters are developing, and there's action and comedy and drama. And none of this overshadows any of the rest.
But what impresses me most, really, is the ending. It's a perfect ending.
Many Gundam series end with most of the characters dying. I don't think I'm spoiling much by revealing that this is not the case with Turn-A. Most of the characters survive, which is even harder than killing off the characters, since you have to find endings for all of them.
I cannot image better fates for these characters. Some of these fates are bittersweet, because of the characters. They don't all deserve to live happily ever after, and they all don't.
I'm looking forward to the next time I experience this series again. I will benefit from re-watching it.
...and I just realized that I wrote six short paragraphs about my reaction, without a word about what Turn-A really was. (Ugh. Please forgive my bloodied massacre of the English language there.)
It's about memory and hope. About remembering the past, seeking to recapture it, and finding...something else. And that that's okay.
It's about government and leadership, oddly enough. Gundam is usually more interested in the soldiers on the front lines; Turn-A asks, "What about the generals? Don't they have lives and decisions and fears, too? Don't they sweat through battles like the men with helmets?" They do. And they bear the burdens of millions.
Saturday I saw Hellboy, which was quite good. It was exciting, and funny, and thought-provoking. Unfortunately, it also had some comic characters who were a bit too fantastic for live action. There are certain things that just don't work when you see them on film. And, ironically, Hellboy himself wasn't one of them. The main evil villain was essentially Snake Eyes from G.I. Joe, and it just didn't work.
The film was also weak because of lack of character exposition, ironically enough. There was a lot to these characters, which the film could only hint at. Perhaps the characters would have seen stronger if I'd been able to see them build over time.
I also read Orson Scott Card's Hart's Hope. It's only the second Card book I've read (the first was his amazing SF novel Ender's Game). I was blown away, mainly because I've never read anything quite like it. Which, ironically, is something I don't say much about fantasy.
In Hart's Hope as in Ender's Game, Card showcases his abilty to write about truly horrible things, without either sensationalizing it or trying desperately to make a Point. He simply portrays these acts as horrible, and leaves them as they are. Which, in a way, shows tremendous respect. He lets those acts speak for themselves.
I very much want this t-shirt.
Writing Thoughts
Lots to talk about, but I'm not really in the mood to write. I haven't been in the mood to write all week, really. So I haven't.
This causes the Gurney Halleck in me to rage, "Mood?!? Mood's a thing for cattle and love-play, not writing!" And, yes, it's important to write even when you're not in the mood. But not every time you're not in the mood.
I think it comes down to distinguishing between genuine laziness and genuine burn-out. Sometimes, I just want to really rest. Pushing myself to work at those times is unhealthy.
And I think that comes down to respect. Respect for myself, and my body, and my work rhythms. Recognizing that I need time to rest and recharge. And accepting that I can write next week just as easily as I can write this week.
Congrats, Chris!
And now, more of the VR story.
He waved it off and massaged his temples for a moment before asking, "Who hired you?"
She shook her head. "Whoever it was didn't want me to say anything about that. I just know I'm being paid a lot of money to keep you alive." A sly grin stole over her face. It made her look quite pretty. "You better not die," she finished.
He grunted, and remained silent for awhile. She continued to study him, like a small child studying a stranger.
He let out a deep breath, then stoood up and studied the room. She followed his gaze. "What?" she asked, genuinely curious.
He saw what he was looking for, and headed towards the lopsided nightstand that squatted between the two worn beds. "I need to jack in," he stated flatly.
"Oh, no you don't," she said as she sprang to her feet. "Why don't you just set up a flashing neon sign above the motel saying, 'BAD GUYS COME HERE'?"
He rolled his eyes and looked back at her. "Give me some credit," he said. "I'm a VR detective. I spend more time awake in VR than I do in my apartment. I'm not going to wander around like a complete moron."
She chewed her lip, her eyebrows scrunched up in concentration. That made her look pretty, too. After a few uncomfortable moments she nodded, but her expression didn't change.
"I'm going in with you," she announced.
"Okay," he replied. Just as long as he could get in and get some answers....
He strode to the nightstand and managed to manhandle the poorly-made drawer open. Inside was what looked like a large folded pair of sunglasses. He withdrew them and turned, holding them up to Doodlehopper to show her that there was only one. She was already holding a slim pair of her own, an inexpensive type that folded down and could be kept in a pocket.
His lips pursed slightly, then he resigned himself. He pulled a thin cable out of one end of the folded pair of VR goggles and pushed it into one of two small, off-kilter black jacks that protruded from the wall above the nighstand.
She strode to the nighstand, swishing her hips, then gave him a playful grin and jacked in next to him.
He was looking into her eyes, trying to see if she was really up to this. Her green eyes were happy and oh so big, like an excited girl on her first day of school. This worried him, actually, as he thought of the trouble that could be caused by an excitable girl hanging over his shoulder.
On the other hand, he reflected, she had saved his life.
Still looking her straight in the eyes, he flipped open the goggles and slipped them over his eyes, then slid his thumb along one edge until he found a slight bump, and pushed it.
...and I just noticed that The Brunching Shuttlecocks have put up the absolutely perfect Geek Hierarchy Chart. As Neil Gaiman puts it, it's "almost too accurate to be funny. But it's still funny."
5:13 p.m.
There's a new blog, called Worthwhile, which posts entries from a handful of highly-respected business writers. It's sort of a cross between a blog and a magazine (mlog?); it's nicely laid-out and offers posts from a set stable of authors, but it has all the features of any blog (live updates, easy comments, trackbacks).
And here's what I love about blogs: Check out comment #4 on the Deep Tycosis article.
Anyvay, lots of really really good stuff here. I particularly like this entry, by David Weinberger:
Interestingly, the name "Worthwhile" is not a joke about this blog's worth in the presence of two million whiny LJ users; it's the whole point of the site. It asks the question, "What is worthwhile in the business world? What goes beyond merely making a profit to making a difference?"
I'm feeling somewhat better today.
I made a ridiculously simple vegetarian chili last night, which turned out well except for the now-limp vegetables. I may have to tweak the recipe, which requires a long time for frying the veggies.
I'm increasingly interested in learning how to cook rather than how to follow a recipe. I want to know how to make chili in general, not just a specific chili recipe. As such, I'm focusing on the ingredients involved and the general process. It certainly makes cooking more interesting.
Well. This has been a bad week, really.
Mainly, I've felt lonely, which was exacerbated by my requests to have my friends contact me. But they haven't. Not a single phone call or e-mail.
:sigh:
Also, my eyes are frustrating. I have to put in a lot of drops, and I was told at my last eye doctor appointment that it'll be months before my eyes are fully healed. So I'm staring down a long road, full of hourly eye drops and gels.
Worse, I have no energy or enthusiasm for work or writing. When I'm at work, I have trouble making myself work, and when I'm home, all I want to do is re-watch MST3K episodes.
OMFG FIRST POST AHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAAA ROFLOL!!!!11!1
...Ahem. Sorry.
No post today. I was kidnapped by evil wombat-like aliens and had all memories of the last twenty-four hours removed in a highly painful operation. Luckily, I was able to find one of their many escape pod mecha and blasted off for earth. Of course, I then had to save the universe in between moments of hilarious romantic comedy and deep personal angst. But I eventually got back all right.
...Ahem. Sorry. Again.
Quick plug: Daring Fireball has an excellent article called Ronco Spray-On Usability that responds to an Eric S. Raymond article about UIs and usability.
Congrats, Saalon! Everyone, go read Daemonsong.
Does anyone else find that the amount of verification required on most banking sites is rather too much to deal with? Why does the bank insist that I enter the city I live in when registering? Isn't that in their records? And, really, if I'm spoofing somebody else's identity and already have their street address, I probably have their city name too.
I'm all for privacy and ensuring that the right person is logging in. But at some point I have difficulty caring.
Part of the problem, actually, is that my needs for online banking are simple: I want to be able to see my account history. I don't want complicated registration/login procedures for that. I don't care if m0nk3yb()y in Topeka can figure out a way to see the size of my last paycheck deposit.
Perhaps some gradation in login would work. Imagine registering on your bank's website and getting a form: "How would you like to register? You can register for a basic online account, which is simple and lets you see your information only. Or you can register for a full online account, which requires more verification and lets you do practically anything with your account."
I dunno. I'm just frustrated because I can't access any of my credit cards or banks online due to overly complicated verification systems.
I've been reading a lot of good books lately. One of the latest is Dan Simmon's Hyperion.
While I was discussing it with Brennen called the universe of Hyperion one of the best space opera universes he's ever come across (or words to that effect). I actually disagree at this point, as what I've read of Hyperion isn't much of a space opera according to the standards that I know of. Hyperion is big and epic, but it's the grand scale of a Shakespeare play rather than that of a Republic serial.
Essentially, this book is sort of a futuristic Canterbury Tales; a mysterious, quasi-spiritual creature is on a killing spree on the planet of Hyperion, and six travelers are journeying there together. Some want revenge, others want answers; they all are tied to Hyperion and the creature in some personal way. This novel tells their stories, while (I understand) the sequel, Fall of Hyperion, tells of their fates.
Each story is fascinating in its own way, and impressively distinct. One is a religious/moral tale, another is the autobiography of a poet (told with appropriately vivid words), another is a hardboiled detective story, another is a bit of military SF, and yet another is a heartrendingly simple rendition of a couple losing their only daughter, and the final story is in the tradition of SF's golden age, a tale of the end of a world's way of life, and the consequences of man's common blindness to the vastness of life.
The stories' variety kept me interested and intrigued despite the length of the book. It's really six novellas and short stories strung together with a common theme and the meta-plot of the six pilgrims making their way to Hyperion. This deepened my appreciation of the characters, though it's a shame that the payoff won't come until the sequel. Still, the device worked. There are still moments of the book that haunt my memory.
Which is an impressive statement for any book, really.
In other news, as part of a very busy weekend, my Mom and I braved the oddball weather (beautiful one moment, spitting rain the next) and saw Shrek 2.
I don't want to write much about it, because any discussion of it will necessarily spoil a good amount of the humor, and I want any readers who haven't seen the film to walk into that theater without preconceptions or expectations.
I will tell you that I found the film brilliantly funny, so much so that I didn't hear a few of the lines because I was laughing so hard. The film maintains and enlarges on the spirit of devil-may-care fun in the first film. Moments like the fried bird's eggs in Shrek—which were actually quite rare when compared to the time spent on the plot—are everywhere in Shrek 2, which is stuffed with cultural references and little gags.
But that's icing on a solidly plotted cake (if I may mix my metaphors). There's a good, solid story here, which is pretty predictable but nicely done.
I'm experimenting with a new work schedule. I'm getting in to work around noon and leaving between 6:00 and 8:00 p.m., then doing a few hours' worth of work at home. I'm trying this because, for the past couple of months, my body has been refusing to awaken at 8:00 or 9:00 a.m. And I'm a big believer in reality, so I decided to fact reality and arrange my work schedule around my body's actual sleep patterns.
I tell you, I felt odd typing away at my Syllable computer last night, glancing at the clock as it passed midnight, 1:00 a.m., and 2:00 a.m., knowing that this was okay. I'd have plenty of time to sleep in the morning.
And I did. I woke up refreshed and energized, like I used to. I'm not at 100% yet — based on past experience, that'll take a week or two — but I sure feel a lot better.
And now, more of the VR story:
Thomas began considering options for escape. He glanced around the dingy room; the only thing near him was the nightstand, on which sat the flimsy VR goggles he'd used the night before. They hadn't brought any extra clothes or luggage. He wondered where Doodlehopper had put her tazers. But they didn't help either; Thomas was propped up on one arm and the sheets were twisted around him. He'd be hopelessly tangled before he got three feet, and that pistol was aimed straight at him.
He realized that the first thug was cringing. Heh. Thomas wished he could hear the reaming the guy must've been getting from "Boss."
"Well, I wanted to know, Boss," the thug said in a quiet voice, "should we shoot 'em now, right here?" He paused. "Yeah, it's a motel room." He looked around. "Yeah, pretty crummy."
His attention returned to Thomas, who didn't like the hardness that came to the thug's eyes. "Okay," the thug announced. "Yes. Roger. Thank you, Boss. Over and out."
His eyes fully focused back on Thomas. "We need to get out of here," the thug said. "Come along quietly."
Thomas gambled. What if they couldn't kill him there? "And what if I don't?"
The thug's mouth twitched down slightly in annoyance. "We don't have ta do it someplace else."
Thomas lsot. He sighed, and made slow movements to get up.
The first thug motioned his pistol towards Doodlehopper's sheet-covered form and said to his companion, "Karl, get him up." Karl sidled over to the bed and gripped the bottom of the sheet.
There was a sudden swirling of sheets, a couple of yelled oaths from the thugs, a blur of black and skin, a low hum, and the sudden acrid smell of ozone. Thomas managed to kick off his sheets and curl his body forward on the bed ready to leap off as the two thugs slumped to the floor like tipped sacks of coffee.
Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
No, seriously. Had a good weekend, all things considered — Saturday was spent mostly powering through a daunting list of chores in time to entertain my parents and grandmother at my place. We had a straightforward dinner but it ended with a fabulous dessert: Chocolate Cranachan, a parfait of whipped cream and whisky combined with layers of a mixture of chocolate, oats, and hazelnuts. Worked really well; everyone loved it. Heck, they stayed for over four hours.
But then I couldn't go to sleep that night. No particular reason that I could see; I just wasn't sleepy. After staring at the ceiling for two hours, my mind wandered to the movie Tron and I realized I hadn't seen it for awhile. So I popped it in and re-watched it, then reviewed almost all of the supplemental materials.
I'd almost forgotten how brilliant Tron really was. It was so incredibly visionary, and it was so complicated to make, and it actually worked. Did you know that the glowing circuit effect had to be hand-painted on every single frame of the film where it was used?
Anyway, I finally got to sleep a little after 5:00 a.m., then slept until 1:30 p.m., then headed over to my parents to help them set up their computer. Then went to work to finish up a few things, and back home. At least I made it to sleep with enough time to wake up in the morning and make it in by 10:00 a.m. — not as early as I'd like, but better than 1:30 in the afternoon.
In other news, I finished reading H.P. Lovecraft's short novel At the Mountains of Madness. It's the first Lovecraft I've ever read, and I'm very impressed. He's obviously one of the great horror writers, and like all great horror writers, he only drops hints. He explicitly avoids any descriptions of blood or gore. But it's the hinting that bring the hairs on the back of your neck to attention. Great, great stuff. And a bargain, too.
Sorry for the lack of an update yesterday; I had the worst day EVAR. Briefly:
Tuesday evening, I was supposed to take care of my parents' dog, but forgot about it. So I drove there late at night to discover the dog had left a large present on the foyer carpet. Joy. I got to clean that up.
I got home and decided to take a sleeping pill, hoping to get a reasonable night's sleep. Oh boy did I get sleep. That pill knocked me dead for twelve hours.
That means I woke up at 11:30 a.m. And I had to go take care of the dog again, who by this point was nervous and annoying, running in front of me and just generally being a nuisance.
I didn't get to work until 1:00 p.m. I arrived to find an e-mail from my boss that informed me that he's not my boss anymore; he's going to be the boss of another group and now someone who (AFAIK) doesn't even work in this state is now my boss.
Plus, the sleep was the sort of sleep that left me feeling drugged all day. And, because I woke up late, my eating patterns were all out of whack, so I was hungry and not hungry at weird times.
So, yeah. That was my Wednesday.
Thomas awoke with a bang.
Literally. The thin door to their room slammed open with such force that dust drifted from the ceiling. Thomas started up in bed, the tangled sheets coiling themselves further around his body. He blinked to clear the haze from his eyes.
Two very large Asian men, wearing business suits, strode into the room. Each had a pistol, one leveled at Thomas and the other at Doodlehopper's bed. She was still curled into a ball under the sheets. Thomas continued to blink, his brain still a few subway stops behind.
"You're Thomas Aznable," one of them stated. The events of the past twenty-four hours poured back into Thomas' mind, and he let out an amazed breath.
"You two again?" he said.
Both intruders shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well," the first one said, jerking his head towards Doodlehopper's bed, "we didn't expect him last time. You covering him, Karl?"
Karl nodded, his gun aimed straight at the curved outline of Doodlehopper's body beneath the sheets, and his face showing intense concentration. Thomas' brain — which was still a bit dreamy from sleep — vaguely wondered if the thug was trying out some sort of mental powers, or was just that stupid. He figured it was the latter.
His mind had recovered sufficiently to realize that they thought Doodlehopper was male. He filed that way as potentially useful.
"Boss?" asked the first thug, still looking straight at Thomas.
Thomas blinked back at him. "Me?" he asked.
The thug gave him a disgusted frown. "No, not you, you idiot. I'm trying—no Boss!" His eyes grew wide with panic, and he straightened his spine but he continued addressing Thomas. "I was talking to someone else Boss! I'm sorry Boss!"
Thomas realized the thug must be wearing a mobile phone with a wire thin enough to be taped to his neck and made essentially invisible. Thomas felt himself frown slightly. He hated it when people did that.
"It's the guy, Boss!" the thug said, his voice as excited as a kid in a toy store on delivery day. "We found him! And he's with...the...other guy!"
Thomas was not typically a man of action. He preferred to use his brain, which was his excuse for not exercising. But it was true; he simply didn't have a "bias for action," as he'd read of in a self-help book once.
But he was learning.
A retrospective on BookFinder.com's first five years in business.
I seem to be recovering from my long "blah" period. And I now actually have some time to write a decent journal entry! Yay!
Much of my frustration and mild depression lately has come from a basic question about my quality of life. Do I love my life?
Obviously, just living where I am, I'm tremendously blessed from a global perspective. I can eat whenever I want, I sleep in a comfortable bed, I live in a large apartment, and I'm pretty healthy.
From a social perspective, I'm doing well. I make about $60k, I live in a good middle-class neighborhood, and my job is interesting and ever-changing. I also have good friends and family.
But do I love my life? Not really. I appreciate my life. I enjoy it; it has its fun moments. But I really don't love it. I don't open my eyes in the morning and think, "God, I can't wait to get started with the day."
Much of it comes down to my job, I think. I really want to spend my time at home, writing and making animations. But my job keeps me from having the time to really do enough writing and animation to spin up and make enough money to support me.
On the other hand, perhaps I need patience. Perhaps it's natural for this process to take a long time. Maybe I should just do as much writing and animation as I can outside of work.
But no. That doesn't seem right to me. I feel like I'm sacrificing myself and my dreams for a desk and a job. This doesn't feel right.
But I can't bring myself to quit my job, or go part-time. Perhaps that's just weakness on my part?
I don't know.
Oh! Um. Yes. Must update.
Briefly: Spent most of the good, if somewhat tiring weekend shopping. Ended up with some more anime (Angelic Layer and Kaze no Yojimbo) , a new CD rack, some kitchen utensils, and some cookbooks.
I could write a few paragraphs about each of the above, but frustratingly, I have to leave work in a few minutes to pick up my parents at the airport.
I was able to finish reading all of the Edward Tufte books I got at his course last Wednesday. Very informative. I've begun using his advice at work, charting our documentation progress using small multiples.
Small multiples are essentially several diagrams all arranged next to each other, usually forming a sequence. Here's an example:
It's a surprisingly powerful visual technique. Clustered diagrams invite comparison and contrast, which are essential to good information design.
>Writing Thoughts
After a long slump, I finally managed to write a little something over the weekend. Just a few hundred more words of Seeing Things Invisible.
I also assembled all my STI writing and VR Story snippets into a complete website, which I intend to use to replace my current writing website once everything's moved over to the new server.
See, I've been demotivated for awhile, and I've had no problems with story, or characters, or forcing myself to write. The journey's not a problem. It's the destination.
I've had nowhere to put any of these stories. STI might've been a book, or a webdrama, or a series of short stories. But after awhile I couldn't keep writing it while it stayed in limbo.
So finally I decided, screw it, I'm going to post all of this. My "publication" will be posting it all to the web. Who knows? Maybe I'll get some readers. And maybe I'll be able to sell paper copies that way.
ExtremeTech has posted a slideshow of Windows Longhorn. I'm not impressed.
A few issues, off the top of my head:
- I'm disturbed that buttons and menus now have no visual cues to tell you that they're buttons or menus. This is a good example; what's clickable, and what's just a static text label?
- The new ALT-TAB feature is an improvement on the current little popup window in Windows, but it's nowhere near as useful as MacOS' Expose, for example. With the new ALT-TAB, you can't see all of every window; you just see a slice of the left-hand side of each window. With Expose, you see all of every window. Think it doesn't matter? Okay, imagine that you have three terminal windows open. You hit ALT-TAB, and you see the left 80 pixels of each window. It's a lot easier to remember the visual layout of all the text on each window rather than having to squint and read the text on a small visible slice of the window (if it's even readable at that size). Check out the DOS windows in the screenshot.
- There's an awful lot of different colors used in the interface. I count four different background colors on this screenshot alone; white, pale yellow, light grey, and dark grey. Granted, this is a very early alpha. But then, if it's an alpha, why are they putting in lots of different colors? I'd expect there to be very few colors in an alpha.
Sure, it might get a lot better as time goes on. But this is a public release that Microsoft made available to ExtremeTech. If this isn't representative of their interface, why are they letting ExtremeTech show it off?
And now, more VR story, as promised:
Mother blew out a breath, then looked around at the others. Everyone else was quiet, but obviously intrigued. "Right, right," she said. "Who wants to get together to help these two?"
Most of the people there raised their hands; after a moment, even Panic raised an armored fist.
Mother regarded Thomas and Doodlehopper silently for a moment, as if weighing them in her mind, then shook her head. "Okay," she said. "But with this crew, you might live to regret it." She knocked her head to one side and grinned. "On the other hand, with this crew, you will live to regret it."
Thomas spent the rest of the night exchanging encryption keys, plans, ideas, addresses, anonymizers, and all the mundane details that were part of this sort of endeavor. The group from Fortis was an eclectic bunch, and while Thomas felt that worked in their favor, it also menat that each member had his or her own perspective on the whole situation and wanted to approach it from a unique angle. That meant having to satisfy a dozen different idiosyncratic cracker geniuses at once.
Doodlehopper spent most of the evening on the bed, listening to music via small wired nodes that stuck temporarily to the skin behind her ears, sitting upright in a position vaguely similar to the lotus, her eyes closed, and her head swaying slightly. What little time Thomas had to think about her was spent impressed that she was so calm.
Late in the night, as Thomas was collecting the last sets of data from the new eager participants from Fortis, Doodlehopper unfurled herself from the bed, slipped the nodes into a jacket pocket, strode over to the other side of the room, and began a series of stretches. Thomas kept glancing at her form as she pulled her limbs into what seemed like highly pinaful contortions, all without noise or a change in her neutral facial expression. She then began to move her body through some form of martial arts forms, though Thomas didn't recognize them. Whatever it was, she had complete control over the forms she practiced that night, never wavering a muscle or seeming off-balance.
The each slept, clothed, in a separate bed. As Thomas lay in the dark, pushing himself to sleep and failing miserably, he couldn't deny the sexual tension between them. And it wasn't a chemical attraction; it was the uncomfortable tension of two people who recognize their sexuality but don't want to act on it. Thomas had to admit to himself that he wanted her, but he knew that getting involved was a bad idea, especially right now when a bunch of very serious, very deadly men were trying to kill him. And the girl definitely didn't want any physical attention from him. Thomas reflected that she probably wanted someoone much younger htan he, closer to her own age. She was probably fifteen years younger than him. She could almost be his daughter.
He knew where this line of thought was going, and pushed it away before it turned to his pathetic love life. He threw himself onto his side, pulled the thin, uncomforting sheets around him, and forced himself to think of nothing until he finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Thomas awoke with a bang.
(More VR story later today.)
Well, that was interesting.
I'm writing this a few hours after returning home from a course by Edward Tufte, who has written a lot about information design.
What is information design? It's the study of information presentation, really. How can information—data, numbers, trends—be presented in a way that accurately reflects the information itself? In other words, if I've found out about an outbreak of cholera, and I've found that it's related to a particular water source, how do I show that relationship to people in an umambiguous way?
(I do it like this:)
The course came with all three of Tufte's books, as well as his pamphlet denouncing PowerPoint (except as a computerized replacement for a static slideshow). I've skimmed or read all of them, and they're all excellent—informative, dense, witty.
Incidentally: I'll be at an Edward Tufte course all day tomorrow, so no VR story snippet until Thursday.
3:49 p.m.
A friend suggests I might feel better if I ranted here.
Ironically, everything I need to rant about has been improving a bit over the past couple of days. But, I don't need to let that stop me.
Sleep. Sleep's been a big weight on my mind lately. I've been unable to fall asleep until after midnight, then I've woken up groggy and exhausted. Repeat. And it's kind of amazing how much of an impact that's had on my mood. I've tried everything I can think of, including sleeping pills, and nothing's helped.
Then, I was completely unable to sleep Saturday night (but at least I finished the first of Dan Simmon's Hyperion books, which was brilliantly written). This was the cap to an amazingly busy Saturday. Sunday, I went to church then spent the afternoon with my Mom, and after she left I fell asleep and didn't wake up until late Monday morning.
So, that's left me dazed and feeling out-of-sorts.
Then, the alien parasite illness of last week prevented me from doing pretty much anything productive, and I'm still recovering from that.
So, I'm mildly frustrated and annoyed.
Ummm. There we go.
I just wish I had done something in the past week or two. I feel like a drain on society right now; passively consuming but creating nothing.
Yes. Yes. I know. No updates in practically forever, other than anaemic posts Thursday and Friday.
To be honest, I'm just not feeling like it. Work is stressful, and my sleep patterns have become all wacky again, to the point where I have very little time at home when I'm not either asleep or trying to go to sleep.
So. My apologies, and I suggest that you expect a Week of Suckage here.
Whatever this illness is, it feels like some sort of alien parasite from a bad Star Trek episode. Normally, I get these things and I suffer through them and then I'm okay in a couple of days. This is day number six and counting. I'm not nearly as bad as I was on Sunday or Monday, but I'm still coughing and wrestling with an upset stomach. Blaaarrggh.
Anyvay. I've spent much of my time just lying in bed, doing very little.
I did watch a fair amount of anime this week, though: Last Exile volume 2, Texhnolyze volume 1, Tokyo Godfathers, and Angelic Layer volume 2. I also saw the first twelve episodes of the Clone Wars animations, which left an odd taste in my mouth.
I can't summon the energy to write up my opinions on these, except that they were all good in their own ways. Except for Clone Wars, which was frankly just a really poor choice of animation and direction style.
I'm not dead yet.
Just sick. A nasty cold grabbed hold of me on Sunday and wouldn't let go.
More VR story:
He put one thumb underneath the goggles and pushed them up onto his forehead, and arched an eyebrow at Doodlehopper.
"They want to help," he said, and he couldn't help smirking. Doodlehopper just gave him a sour look.
They stood at one end of a Greek theater, and Doodlehopper was trying valiantly not to look fed up with the proceedings, and failing miserably. She was not impressed with the large granite stage on which they stood, backed with twenty-foot stone arches that framed the faded indigo mountains and blue sky in the distance. She was less impressed with the granite seats carved into the living rock in front of them, creating enough room for hundreds of spectators. And she was least impressed with the handful of people that were either standing around them or seated at the first row of stone bleachers in front of them.
She reflected that her attitude may have been caused partly because the person inspecting them most closely was wearing dull green space armor, and she'd never like scifi games. She'd dated a few scifi freaks, and they'd all been a little too obsessive about their back issues of Starlog for her tastes.
"I don't trust them," announced the man in space armor, straigtening up and walking back to the stands.
"Panic doesn't trust them. What a surprise," muttered a waifish teenaged boy wearing a white, Greek-style tunic.
"I don't need to hear anything from you, Side," said Panic, rounding on the teenager.
"OKay, okay, enough, you two," said a middle-aged Caucasian woman in green adn brown Renaissance peasant garb. She stepped forward from her place a few rows back, stepping up onto the stage to stand before Thomas and Doodlehopper.
"So what do you need?" the middle-aged woman asked.
Thomas threw a searching glance at Doodlehopper, who returned it with a look of stone. She was not happy, and this made him more uneasy that he liked to admit to himself. He reflected that it probably wasn't a good idea to piss off the person who'd just saved your life.
He picked his words with the delicacy of a chef shopping for ingredients. "Some people in meatspace seek to do me physical harm. Possibly kill--OW!"
Pain spread like fire through his right shin. The crowd leaned forward; Doodlehopper hadn't moved at all. "Just a second," he announced as he slid off his VR goggles and looked down.
In the dingly light of the motel room, Doodlehopper was just withdrawing her foot and placing it back on the floor. Thomas blinked for a moment, his brain unable to understand this, until he realized: somehow, the girl had turned off her system's physical feedback without disconnecting her from VR. And all while she'd been standing right next to him. Slick.
"What're you trying to do?" she hissed at him, still wearing her goggles. He was momentarily amused by her sightless head thrust out at him.
"What?" he asked. "I have to tell them what's going on."
She blew out an exasperated breath. "If you tell them that someone's trying to kill you, that'll tell 'em exactly how deep in over your head you are. You're in enough trouble without scaring anyone away."
He pursed his lips. "You're right," he admitted, and slipped his glasses back on.
"Sorry," he said to the crowd, which had resumed a conversation but now turned its attention back to him. "Hit my leg. I'm being pursued. I need to find out who they are, and get some protection."
Panic was shaking his helmeted head. "You need the cops, man, not us."
Thomas paused purely from dramatic effect. "The cops might be in on it, for all I know."
Side leaned his thin body back, smirked, and said, "Interesting." He turned to look at the middle-aged woman, whose face was clouded with worry. "Whaddya think, Mother? Let's vote."
And here's an item from Lileks:
An interesting story from the AP - but only for the headline. Read the story. Read the headline. Find the concerned analyst.
Books-a-Million had a big sale this weekend. This is dangerous for me, because almost every time I enter a bookstore, I leave with some books. This is not an exaggeration; nine times out of ten, I cannot simply browse a bookstore and leave.
Partly this is because I love books. I own over six hundred of them, and they span a wide variety of genres—well-bred classics, rich historical references, lavishly illustrated cookbooks, cheesy mysteries, grand old comedies, straight-laced business how-to books, daring science fiction, dry computer guides, wild fantasy epics, and even wilder Japanese manga.
Since everything in the store was at least 20% off, I ended up buying nine books: Mike Nelson's satirical novel Death Rat, Sara Douglass' fantasy The Wayfarer Redemption (which sounds oddly like the title for a certain prison movie...), Christopher Paolini's young adult fantasy Eragon, Roger Ebert's The Great Movies, Robert Rodriguez' diary of guerilla moviemaking Rebel Without a Crew, the "How to Draw Manga" book Making Anime (which guides the reader through the production process at AIC, the anime studio that made Tenchi Muyo!, El Hazard, and many other anime classics), the Berlitz Self-Teacher for Spanish (because, frankly, a working knowledge of Spanish can be exercised almost daily these days), and a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's works.
By the time Saturday was over, I'd read Ebert's The Great Movies and most of Rodriguez's Rebel Without a Crew. The former is a very handy reference to classic films, why they're classics, and their relevance for modern film viewers. It's also wonderful to have all the cross-references that Ebert sprinkles throughout to various films made by the films' casts and crews.
Rodriguez wrote a simply inspiring book. Most of it is simply his diary as he wrote, filmed, edited, released, and shopped an action film called El Mariachi at a total production cost of $7,000. The rest is a personal note to the reader, a "Ten Minute Film School" that provides some very basic information about film cameras, and repeatedly exonerates the reader to just go out and film something. His theme is that ordinary people can make good-looking movies without spending their life savings, and that it's not about the tools. It's about just going out there and doing it, finding ways to make it look good and sound good. He demonstrates that practical, real-world experience is much more important than theory.
(For the record, Desperado and Once Upon a Time in Mexico are both sequels to El Mariachi.)
And now, more VR story.
Thomas flexed his fingers, feeling the luxurious slip of the black leather gloves caress his hands. The gloves were heavily wired, but the wires were so well-integrated that a casual observer would think they were work gloves from ten paces.
He sighed in contentment, smiling at the gloves. This felt good. He was back in his chosen environment.
A fringe of blonde hair leapt up from behind a nearby cluster of servers and routers, followed by the head and shoulders of a teenaged boy. He had the desperate energy and rapid, bird-like moves of a young man who loved where he was and lived in constant fear he'd make a wrong move and be sent away.
"So, ya like it?" he asked, his words coming in machine gun bursts as he ran his fingers over various switches and scanned blinking lights for a dozen different power-up sequences. "It's all the latest. Yaguchi, ARM, you name it. This is some top-of-the-line stuff." He giggled. "Nothin' like the best."
Thomas grunted. Youngsters like this one just annoyed him. This kid was probably the persona behind a hundred different forum hacker aliases and script kiddies.
Doodlehopper walked up, cradling a mug of something hot between her hands, her face doing a poor job of masking worry. Now she was Trinity crossed with Florence Henderson.
He didn't want to ask why she hadn't volunteered to go in with him. It was odd. But he knew that if he asked, and she'd simply forgotten, then she'd insist on going in. Best to let it lie.
He looked over at the teen, who was now squinting into the screen of an ancient cream-colored laptop and beating an uneven staccato beat on the keys. "Hook me up," Thomas said.
Too tired to write a full update, and it's late. Nothing to report since yesterday. I have a few things written, which I'll try to upload soon. Finished reading Mike Nelson's Death Rat last night, which deserves a review lasting more than a few words. Short version: It was as funny as I'd expected it to be. Very much a first novel, but a highly respectable first novel.
Saturday was Otherspace Productions day, sort of. Both the animators—the in-betweener and the CGI artist— came over for the afternoon. The in-betweener showed me a sequence she'd completed, but pointed out that it needs to be re-drawn. The original keys are inconsistent, and fundamentally don't look right. For example, lain's trenchcoat doesn't move at all in the keys, but it needs to billow around her. The animation would work from a distance, but not at the sort of distance I need for the establishing shots.
So. What to do? The key animator is currently on vacation, and I want this fixed. So, I had the in-betweener start work on re-drawing the first key herself. She borrowed my lain art books as reference and did a good job, which I think will be end up looking a lot better.
Meanwhile, the CGI artist punched up the opening scene with a road and more buildings in the background. I confess I'd been mentioning the need for lots of background buildings for awhile, to the point where she reassured me several times that there would be plenty of buildings. Just before she left, she showed me how she'd added dozens of buildings, and we laughed as I agreed that that looked good.
We all had a pretty good time. We spent a fair amount of time chatting, a fact that I felt ambivalent about for a little while. I wondered if I should be pushing them to return to their work after five or ten minutes of discussions about manga and video game consoles. But, no. I certainly have long chats at work myself, and I consider that a reasonable aspect of doing a job. Humans talk, and I'm perfectly willing to let them (and myself). I'm reminded of a scene in the Animation Runner Kuromi anime series, in which the studio president enters the main production room to see a chaotic but energetic crew working, trading paper, and resolving mini-crises. He smiles and sighs contentedly. I think that that's a good perspective.
On the other hand, I have realized that I'm already spending a lot of money on this. Even paying these artists minimum wage for part-time work, I've already spent $291 on matrix experiments lain. I'd hoped to make it for under $500.
The CGI is the main expense. The CGI artist is spending a lot of time on the shot. This is not a condemnation of her; I can watch her and see that the assembly of all the elements takes a lot of time. I'm planning to call her and explain the situation and ask if there's any way to speed up the process. In fact, I may just tell her that I'll pay her through Saturday, then we'll pause work on the CGI shot until I've paid for more of the animation.
You know a piece of music is good when you can listen to it in a variety of different circumstances, and it fits all of them.
In other news: Otherspace Productions is killing me. When the animators return to my apartment tomorrow (for an extended period of work, no less), I will have had animators there doing one thing or another for four out of six days. It's fun and exciting to see my dreams materialize on a monitor or a drafting table six feet from my eyes, but I didn't expect it to require quite this much time.
And it doesn't even take up much of my time. Mostly, I get to putter around my apartment while the animators frown at the paper or screen. But I haven't gotten used to this, so my mind stays in Animation Company President mode. I might be able to do a few little chores, but it doesn't feel right to switch on the PS2 and play some Final Fantasy while these animators struggle with an expression or a camera movement.
Oh, yes. I bought a PlayStation 2 last weekend. I still don't know quite why. I've been thinking about buying a console for awhile now, but couldn't make myself spend the several hundred dollars. So when I went in to Best Buy to look at their selection of DVDs (they often have a few good films at a steep discount), I never planned to buy a console. But I wandered over to the games, and browsed the different games and systems, and suddenly realized that I was going to walk out of the store holding a console and a few games.
I went with the PlayStation 2 mainly because it's the primary system for the Final Fantasy games, and seems to have a solid lock on a lot of good games. I'd rather not give Microsoft any more money than I have to, and the GameCube's selection seemed paltry to my eyes. So, what the heck. I'll buy a GC if I need to.
Otherspace Productions has been taking up a lot of my time lately.
My CGI artist came over Wednesday morning, where she showed me her work and began integrating lain herself into the animation. It's a shame I don't have more time to devote to animation; I can only spare a few hours in the morning, and even that requires me to wake up early.
But it's fun. Don't get me wrong; this is not a situation where I can shift from complaining about work to complaining about animation. Animation gives me real joy.
Now to deliver.
Thomas gave Dana his best Sherlock Holmes indulgent smile. "You have enough processing power here to map the human genome." More than that, he thought. "I look around and the people I see are all hackers. Young. Stereotypically, loners. Not the types who normally stay together in groups this large, not for long."
She shook her head, still smiling. "This is sort of a convention," she said. “We all know each other online, and we've gathered here for a couple of days' worth of harmless fun."
He snorted, but kept his own smile pasted on his face. "In a giant warehouse?"
Her smile was turning into a newswoman's plastic smile. "It was available."
He struggled to keep the contempt out of his voice, but failed. "And you all just happen to drive large, unmarked moving trucks?"
She tried to spit out a comeback, then turned and furrowed her brows further. Thomas was impressed with himself. He had her completely on the defensive. This was working.
She turned back to him, her eyes dark and furious. "Listen," she growled. "We took you in, and we're giving you free access to our net. Why? Because we trust Doodle." She jabbed a finger at his chest. "Don't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs."
Thomas gulped and nodded as Dana whirled and stalked off. Thomas wondered if he'd made a mistake. And he suddenly remembered another bit of the Art of War: He wins his battles by making no mistakes.
Doodlehopper sidled over to him, a playful smirk on her face now. He tried to let it lighten his mood, but Dana's reaction had jangled his nerves too much.
"So," she said. "You really showed her, huh?"
He gave her a sidelong look. But he found himself chuckling, and then the tension eased out of him and he was able to laugh. She laughed too. And it made her look pretty.
Okay. Okay okay okay. No updates except for the weird one on Friday. Yeah.
I don't really want to apologize for this, because as I see it, I'm not posting these journals exclusively for readers. Obviously, I want people to read it—otherwise why would I put it online?—but this journal is only a part of my life, and sometimes I don't have much time for that part.
The in-between animator came over on Monday, and that went perfectly. She drew for a couple of hours while I caught up on my cooking for the week (stir fry and cookies for meals at work). She did a great job, considering that this is her first experience in animation, drawing three out of her shot's four drawings in 2.5 hours. And all of those drawings were exactly correct, as far as I could see. She plans to return on Saturday to do some more work.
Meanwhile, my CGI artist e-mailed me today to let me know that she's "stopping by the studio" (ha!) tomorrow morning to show me what she has thus far for the opening shot. Very very cool. This is working.
So I'm feeling good. My full-time job is a bit stressful at the moment, but not too bad; I just have a lot to do.
Yeah, yeah, this has been another Week of Suck when it came to updating my journal. In many ways, the week was uneventful; I worked, I came home, I exercised, I wrote a bit, I watched anime.
In other ways, this was a momentous week. I hired two animators this week, one to do in-betweening and another to work on the CGI intro shot of Matrix Experiments Lain. It scares me, frankly. I'm going to have to meet with these people, and figure out how to explain things, and pay them money, and avoid frightening them with any of my geeky ways.
For example, one female animator will be coming over to my apartment this Monday morning to work. I'm worried about the impression she might get about working in a basement apartment, alone with a guy, the heavy door closed. But I insist on having the animators physically work with me, if at all possible. I've had too many artists working from home flake on me.
Also, I have very high standards. I don't know if these people can do it, and I don't know if I'll be able to explain to them exactly what I want. This is all so totally new.
So, I'm scared. But then, I'm pursuing my dream. I'm willing to experience a little fear to make that happen.
Anyway, here's this week's bit of the VR story (which I'd really like to name one of these days):
"He's a client." It was Doodlehopper's voice, a warning growl from off to his left.
"So?" asked one of those holding a shocker. "Could still be dangerous. Might've tricked you."
Thomas felt sweat pop out on his forehead. If any of those shockers touched him, he'd be in serious pain. Worse, if they decided to be nasty, he could be dead. He'd seen videos of gangs jabbing captured victims with shockers. After thirty or forty shocks, the nervous system gives out.
A husky, older woman's voice came from ten or twenty feet in front of Thomas and said, "Let him go. We can trust Doodle."
The neon spears drew back and away as their holders slipped back into the shadows of the warehouse. For that's what it was, now that Thomas' eyes had adjusted to the light. He could see the outlines of large moving trucks huddled all around the floor, and nearby, literally tons of computer equipment stacked in seemingly haphazard piles.
And now he could see the people, dozens of them. About half were sprawled in small knots of two or three, occasionally swigging from a can of beer or biting into a microwaved snack before setting it back down on top of a server or router. The rest of the occupants were dancing, swirling, gesturing, and enrobed in VR gear. First-rate VR gear from what he could see.
Doodlehopper grinned at him from where she was standing, arms crossed against her black vest, watching him. "Welcome to Safe House," she repeated.
"You can stay here for the next twenty-four hours," said the older woman, a chestnut-haired scowler named Dana who hadn't lost her beauty as she aged into her forties. Thomas frowned as the ancient microwave chugging away on the floor near him went silent. His eyes clouded, and he absently pulled open the door to carefully remove a steaming Asiabowl.
"Whatever you say," he replied, trying to keep his voice calm, ripping the top off and taking a whiff of the food inside. You had to check for freshness when dining with Young Hacker Types. It smelled very good, though he knew that was partly because he hadn't eaten much lately. He nodded at the folks around them. "Can I ask you about this place?"
Dana smirked, but without humor. "You can ask."
He willed himself to stay calm and grabbed a pair of chopsticks from a bunch sticking out of a Styrofoam cup. He stirred the cooked tofu and rice as he composed his thoughts. He recalled the Art of War. The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on him.
"What is your purpose?" he asked, almost casually, his eyes on his food.
Dana's eyebrows furrowed for a second, then she gave him a broad smile. This had as much humor as her smirk. "Why do you think we have a purpose?" she asked, spreading her arms.
Doodlehopper shot Thomas a worried look over her plate of noodles.
Maybe it's obvious. But it made me laugh. From TNH's blog:
Gandalf: What happen?
Samwise: Somebody set us up the orc.
Pippin: We get signal.
Gandalf: What!
Pippin: Main seeing stone turn on.
Gandalf: It's you!!
Saron: How are you Fellowship!!
Okay. You're a massive entertainment company. You have a new TV show that's generating significant critical acclaim, airing on two networks. One network—for whatever reason—decides not to air one episode. What do you do?
You stream it on the web for free, of course.
That's exactly the situation Geneon Entertainment is in with their anime series Koikaze. It's a drama about a very depressed young salaryman who suddenly runs into his younger sister after a long period of separation, which dredges up all sorts of memories. Geneon could have simply clammed up about it. They could have released a regret-drenched press release that blames the network for not showing it. Instead, they made sure their customers got their show.
A round of applause for Geneon, please, in celebration of at least one company that gets it. Thank you.
Quick link: Zeyad just posted part 1 of an article about Iraq's tribal history at Healing Iraq. Informative, deep, and just plain fascinating, this part of the article discusses the distant past, particularly the psychology of the Arabian tribes who have influenced Iraqi life so much.
I'm beginning to agree with Something Awful. The internet makes you stupid.
...And whoops! Almost forgot to upload another VR snippet. Here we go....
He waited for a few more moments, looking around at the scenery. There wasn't much to see. A thin strip of blue sky peeked out above the buildings around them. The buildings themsevles looked like warehouses or converted office space, just like a thousand other buildings in the city. Which might be why Doodlehopper's stopped here, he thought. Perfectly anonymous cover.
"TK421," Doodlehopper murmured, loud enough for Thomas to hear. He looked at her, debating whether to ask what she meant, and saw that her head was turned towards him but she was staring down the street. He looked in that direction; nobody was there.
"The color of television, tuned to a dead channel," she said, still looking at nobody. He must have given her a weird look, because she flashed a grin at him and made a motion with her hand to ignore her.
"Home seems about right," she said, then arched her back, levering herself off the concrete and standing upright without using her arms.
"What..." Thomas began. Doodlehopper grinned at him again, then turned 180 degrees and bowed, gesturing at the wall. "Welcome to Safe House," she said.
The concrete wall which she'd been leaning against promptly melted away, revealing an entrance as black as a monolith. No light penetrated. He realized—late enough to make himself feel like a fool—that Doodlehopper had been reciting passphrases to the door.
Doodlehopper sauntered into the light-swallowing doorway. Thomas hesitated, then followed. As he stepped through the doorway, his eyes were assaulted by a sparkling array of lights, some distant and some close, most blinking or shifting in the electric life of a psychedelic dream. The lights barely illuminated a few feet of wall, so he felt rather than saw the high ceiling and figured that the entire building was one big warehouse.
But once his dazzled eyes had a second to adjust, his attention was immediately draw to the large streaks of light hovering in front of him, and a second later he realized they were the ends of shockers. Each had been modified to glow a bright color, one candy-cane red, another banana yellow, and the third a hideous neon lime green.
He gulped and halted, straining his eyes to see beyond the shockers at the people wielding them, but the lights were too low and his eyes couldn't yet adjust from the morning sunlight outside.
And if you e-mail me with the correct source of all three passphrases, I'll e-mail you back with a sneak preview of an upcoming VR story snippet. Here's a hint: They're all from science fiction.
Also, the VR story will be getting back into VR eventually. I've written it. We just need to get Thomas into real safety.
Okay. So. I'm meeting with three potential animators this Saturday morning.
This makes me feel...weird. Oddly elated. Tingly.
Arg, I'm not communicating this well at all. I feel joyful. Energized. I'm actually doing it.
A small voice in the back of my mind wonders if I won't be just as tired of this animation business in a few years as I am with technical writing now. But somehow, I can't make myself believe it. This is exciting in a way that programming or tech writing never was.
Now that I'll be meeting with them, I suddenly realize I should have some sample artwork for them to look at, so I need to print out a sample booklet. All of a sudden, there's stuff to do.
'Twas going to post something about my hunt for a condo to buy, but instead I stumbled across Seth Godin's wonderful entry for today, Needles, haystacks & magnetism. A quote:
He's right. I'm currently looking for animators for Otherspace Productions. I browsed several dozen resumes recently, some of them resumes that were sent directly to me in response to my job posting. Some of these resumes listed waitressing and secretary work. Why on Earth did they list, on a resume which specifically states that they want a graphic arts position, that they once had a job at Applebee's?
More telling, perhaps, were the resumes sent to me electronically through a job service. Each resume had to be accompanied by a brief "cover letter." One was blank. The second stated, "I saw your job posting. I would like to work for you. Here is my resume." (My internal response to these has become, "That's obvious. That is also obvious. That, too, is obvious. You just wasted 200 bytes of hard drive space, fifteen seconds of my time, and several minutes of your time."). The third said, "I've done some animation work, and I love anime. I want to work for you."
Guess which potential animator I'm most anxious to meet?
I really should describe my absolutely horrible Thursday. But, you know, sometimes the combination of distance and pain makes an experience even harder to discuss than normal. I recall someone describing their memories of the Holocaust by saying, "As time went on, it actually got harder to talk about it. I just wanted to avoid dredging up those feelings again." I understand.
Not that my Thursday was anywhere near like a Holocaust; it was just a very bad day. I'll explain my two chief experiences briefly.
1) My boss (who was my boss, then wasn't my boss, and is now my boss again...all in the course of the past two months) informed me of a potentially significant problem with my hours here, which he asked me not to reveal the details of for certain sensitivity reasons. Suffice to say that somebody acted like a jerk.
My boss assured me that he (my boss) was perfectly okay with my hours, and that I can continue with my hours for at least the next couple of months, by which time this will probably all have blown over. But that was demoralizing.
2) When I got home, I began baking a cake for a going-away party the next day. I'd used the same recipe a week previously, to ensure that it would work. Everything went perfectly. I put the first two cake layers into the oven, then after about fifteen minutes swapped them. They seemed...odd. So I checked the recipe.
I'd forgotten to add sugar.
So. That was ruined. I was extremely frustrated and just threw myself down onto my bed, gritted my teeth, and just let myself be frustrated for a while.
After a few minutes, the new motto I've been adopting floated into consciousness: Embrace Change. I knew I wanted a cake. Okay, so I'd have to change my plan. How else could I have a cake in time for the party? Easy; just go to the store.
It wasn't as special as a home-made cake. But it was a cake, and it was there, and we had a great time sending off Sasha.
The weekend: I spent much of Saturday online, taking care of a bunch of Syllable things, and shopping for new summer clothes. Sunday was mostly a time for condo hunting, meeting with my parents, and cleaning up some bits and pieces here and there. Seeing other peoples' messes while condo hunting inspired me to clean up my own.
I did manage to write some more of the VR story, though. Which is pretty cool, as I haven't been writing all that much lately.
Well. Apparently, I now maintain a porn site. The page is safe to view; it just includes links like "lesbian videos" and "free cartoon sex".
Background: I created a website that lists hardware compatible with the AtheOS operating system. I called it Azaka and registered www.azaka.org. I then left the community and handed over the reigns on that site to somebody else. The domain name lapsed, and it got bought out by somebody who copy-and-pasted the basic HTML (not the stylesheets that made it look pretty) onto their own server and added links to various porn sites. But they kept my "This site maintained by Brent P. Newhall" notice at the bottom.
I've e-mailed the registrar, asking them to take my name off within a week. If they don't, I'll try calling them. They included apparently valid information in their registrar information. This could be entertaining.
Forgive the stilted phraseology of this post. After I get home from work each day this week, I do more work to finish up one particulalry onerous document by the end of the week. The result: I can barely make myself write these journal posts, much less write anything like the VR story.
I've discovered that Buster Keaton is indeed God.
I'd read that this was true, mainly from Chynna Clugston-Major in The Kids Are Alright. This weekend, I sat down with two Keaton films: The General and Steamboat Bill, Jr. Remember Walt Disney's first cartoon? Steamboat Willie? Yeah, it was a reference to a Buster Keaton flick.
Keaton's brilliant, and not in the way I expected a silent film star to be. He's a master of economy; he never moves except when needed to enhance the comedy. This is not to suggest he's minimal. It's just that when he does move, every muscle is part of a comedic action. He can perform acrobatic stunts as well as anyone I've ever seen, Jackie Chan included.
He's also one of the first "lovable loser" characters in film. He manages to pull it off perfectly, which is particularly difficult considering that one essential characteristic of the lovable loser is his/her ability to pull through in the end. The character must be truly heroic, eventually. And here again, Keaton delivers; his characters literally throw themselves into danger when the time comes.
I also finally saw all of Charlie Chaplin's film The Great Dictator, a devastating spoof of Adolf Hitler (and made when Hitler was still alive, in 1938-1940). You wouldn't think anyone could make Hitler funny (ther was "Springtime for Hitler" in The Producers, but that was absurdity as opposed to true parody), but Chaplin made me laugh out loud at the furious arm-wavings of the self-important dictator Adenoid Hynkel. And my throat tightened at an amazing shot as a Jewish barber watches his shop be torched and burned by the SS. And then came the abrupt but fabulous speech at the end, which clearly comes straight from Chaplin's heart.
And now, more VR story. Boy, I'm glad I'm ahead on this; there's no way I'd be able to write more this week.
Doodlehopper stood up from between them, a tazer in each of her hands. She was wearing only a black sports bra and black panties. She looked like an Amazon warrior rising from her kill, glorious and proud and beautiful.
She looked at him, ensuring he was okay, and he realized he was staring at her body. He looked away, blushing slightly, knowing that that was not a road he wanted to travel.
Doodlehopper grinned like a wolf at him, then turned and walked into the bathroom. "Get dressed," she said as she pulled her clothes on.
Thomas nodded to himself. Yes, clothes were a very good idea right now.
They slipped through grimy back alleys and slunk across intersections still empty in the pale, ghostly grey of early dawn. They paused occasionally to warm themselves on plumes of warm steam that bellowed from the grates that punctuated the pavement. Once, they stepped into a coffee shop and bought oversweet donuts and coffee that tasted like thin crude oil. And they continued to run.
Thomas let the girl lead, though after an hour or so of following her zig-zagging path across the city he began to wonder if she had any specific destination or was just wandering.
"Where are we going?" he finally asked.
"Safe house," she replied over her shoulder, and kept moving.
They crept along an alley that was so narrow it was dim as a cave despite the morning sun. On either side of them stood grim concrete buildings, their lowest floor covered with riots of graffiti and their upper floors studded with grim little windows that seemed to begrudge the light.
Doodlehopper stopped halfway down the alley and laid one hand on the concrete wall next to her, almost casually, then turned and leaned her back against it, folding her arms against her chest and glancing up and down the alley.
Thomas stood next to her for a few moments, listening to the buzz of traffic in the distance, then said, "Um, what are we waiting for?"
She continued looking around, but grinned. "Can't tell you," she said. "Just wait."
(Yay! Now I'll get lots of hits from perverts searching for "panties"!)
This is some sort of lineart manga thingie. It tells a story, without words. Odd and somehow engaging. The artwork is alternately crude and nuanced.
...While, if you want to book a flight somewhere, you might (not) want to try SkyHigh Airlines, a perfect parody of airline companies. "Flying is expensive. Let us cheapen the experience."
I'm working on another new writing project: an audio drama.
Why another new writing project? I crave variety. I want another adventure to write, other than the VR story. But most of all, this gives me the opportunity to write something that I'll be performing. There's something very different about the spoken word than the written one. The words come out differently. I want to play around with that.
I wrote the first part of the story a few weeks ago, and finally recorded a decent performance last night. I don't want to post it until I have a few more queued up, though.
The story is set in a Jules Verne universe where English gentlemen take rockets to the moon and fight off little green savages. It's fun to write—though difficult, because the basic form is so new to me—but I worry that it won't quite work. Audio drama seems a very hit–and–miss proposition to me. Sometimes it's engaging, sometimes deathly boring.
Well. I'll never succeed it I don't try, right?
Here's an attempt at describing my life for the next few weeks:
Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
25 July | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 |
1 August | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
22 - 28 |
So. Yes. I feel like the robots in classic Star Trek who were given a set of logical impossibilities. "Every-thing you say is false...but if that is true...then it can-not be true...il-log-i-cal...il-log-i-cal...."
Owning a home has become a big part of American culture. Note Fannie Mae's radio ads, fashioning itself as a pillar of the American economy (an ad campaign that happened to start just after the Justice Department began investigating them for massive fraud on a scale that would impress Enron execs, but I'm getting off-track). A touch of awe enters peoples' voices when they tell their children, "Some day, you'll grow up, and you'll own your own home."
Homes are massively expensive. My knees get weak at the idea of a $10,000 plasma screen TV; my townhouse will cost twenty times that. It's an astronomical sum.
So, I guess I'm justified in being blown away by this whole process.
In other news, I watched the first disc of the new Ghost in the Shell TV series last night. I hoped it would blow me away; it was "merely" entertaining. Perhaps this was simple too-high expectations. This is a huge property, and it has some of the best staff in anime, from Masamune Shirow to Yoko Kanno to Production I.G. I expected brilliance.
I got a good techno-thriller. It's essentially a cop show set thirty years in the future, where the world was created by a real futurist. This is a believable future.
The protagonists are the members of Section 9, a "grey ops" team that's heavily armored, amazingly skilled, and charged with the most delicate of missions, from defusing hostage situations to investigating rogue robots. The series keeps the strong cast from the manga, but chooses very odd voices. The leader of the team is the tough-as-nails pragmatist Major Kusanagi, but they gave her an almost silky, Madonna-like voice. Togusa is the newbie to the group, a fantastic shot but unsure of himself. His voice is deep, mature, and confident. The others don't suffer as badly, but the voices just don't match the characters.
On the other hand, some series need a few episodes to establish themselves, so this one may improve as time goes on.
Um. So. I don't really have time to write an entry that fully describes my experiences today, but I did want to record this:
I now own a townhouse.
Well, I don't exactly own it yet; we won't close on it until mid-August. But I've signed the contract, and the seller's signed the contract. Everything looks golden.
I don't really have an emotional reaction to this yet. I'm overwhelmed. It all happened so fast; I saw this place for the first time on Saturday, and four days later I essentially own it. I've committed to a $200,000 mortgage. Eep!
But I know that this is the right thing for me to do now. I need to be putting my money into equity.
And now, more of the VR story:
Thomas grinned and walked over to where she sat with two others, a man and a woman who both looked him up and down. They had very young faces, and lacked the casual grace of most of the others here.
"Coaching more newbies, eh, Surge?" Thomas said, straddling a bench.
She beamed at him; the others looked slightly embarrassed. "They're coming along," she said. "Sharky here's really good." She cocked her head at Thomas, arching an eyebrow. "I haven't seen you in a long while. Good to find you back in the game. Take out a few more Itharlik for us." Thomas took a breath to correct her, but her face darkened and he let her continue. "We've been losing a lot of pilots lately, Deathshead."
He waved it away; this was the nature of space combat flight sims. The game must've just gotten harder, he figured. Surge's eyebrows drew together, and she leaned forward like a conspirator from a paperback thriller. "No. It's not like that," she said, her voice low and insistent. "It's...."
She glanced at the newbies; the girl was looking alarmed, while the guy seemed politely bored. A frown flashed onto her face and was replaced with a bland, professional smile. "I think you two need more flight time," she said. "Go sign up for a mission. Something routine. You can't handle a pack of F.B.s just yet." The guy looked disappointed, but they both agreed and left through a side door.
"Hey, wait a minute," Thomas said, and pulled his hand away. He had been yanked around by far too many women lately. "I need to talk to you."
To his surprise, she turned and nodded, desperation in her eyes. "C'mon," she said. "Privately. In my quarters."
He blinked. This was...unusual. Was she asking him back for sex? It was fairly common for pilots to simulate "close quarter combat" in these games, though the games never had full-contact hookups to allow for actual physical stimulation. But her eyes weren't shining with lust. It was more like fear.
He briefly debated with himself about leaving now. He had a lot of other contacts to meet. But something about her expression melted him. Maybe, he reflected, he was becoming soft. Not good for a man in his position.
Confusion blossoming in his mind, he nodded and allowed her to lead him out of the mess hall.
Yes, yes, no updates. Much wailing and ululations of reprobation. I'm a baaad blogger.
Much going on in my life. For one, I'm buying a townhouse, which scares me cold. I'm going to have to pay several thousand dollars just to perform the financial transaction. That's without actually paying for the thing. And I feel bad when I spend more than a hundred bucks on anime.
I know that this is the right thing for me to do right now, because for months now I've been unhappy with the fact that my rent isn't really getting me anything other than a roof over my head. I'd rather that money go into a mortgage on a property, which I can always sell and at least get the money back.
I'm overwhelmed at the enormity of it. I have to spend several thousand dollars, which I don't really have. I'll have to deplete my savings. Fortunately, my parents can loan me the rest, but still....This is the biggest financial transaction of my life.
Pretty cool, really.
For the past several months, I've been reading Aaron Copland's What to Listen For in Music. It's a difficult book to read in one sitting, as it cover so much musical territory. I finally pushed through the last half of it this week.
It's an amazing work, really. Copland manages a concise overview of many major classical music styles and a guide through the process of musical composition. But running throughout every chapter is a constant thread of the lay listener's reaction to all of this. Copland is always answering the question, "How can the lay listener better appreciate and understand music?"
For example, his description of the rondo form (which, using letters to denote each distinct musical section, might be written as ABACADAEA...), is accompanied by exhortations to listen to rondos with this form in mind, to hear exactly how the composer is using the form. Understanding the underlying form gives the listener a fuller understanding of exactly what the composer has been able to do with the form.
And fortunately, Copland also encourages the reader to listen to new types of music. Rather than disparaging new and experimental styles, Copland points out that any dislike of a musical style is usually caused by insufficient exposure to that style. One must spend time listening to electronic music, for example, becoming used to its forms, before one can judge it.
He repeats the importance of listening to music, too, and the fact that nothing can improve our appreciation of music more than that practice. So, I've begun integrating that into my life, spending a little time each week listening closely to a classical piece. No distractions. I listen for the instruments being used at any given time, the overall melody being played, the accompaniments that bolster the melody, and the overall melodic line of the piece. And it's exhausting. I listened like that to Beethoven's first symphony, and had to stop after fifteen minutes, overwhelmed with musical input.
A little knowledge can change everything.
(Sorry I've been forgetting to post the VR story. I plan to start posting more again next week.)
Wow, are my legs and feet sore. But, y'know, it's a good kind of sore. (Cue the Far Side cowboy punctured with about two dozen arrows who, in a daze, is saying to his partner, "Yeah, Clem, it hurts, but y'know, it's a good kind of hurt.")
Tuesday night, I decided to act on some information I'd read in Runner's World about running barefoot. Apparently, a lot of current research suggests that the benefits of running with shoes aren't significantly outweighed by the benefits of running barefoot. And the benefits of running barefoot? Our feet were designed to provide us with a lot of feedback, and shoes muffle that feedback. As a result, it's much harder for our feet to tell us when we're running in a way that's damaging to our knees or legs.
And you know all those African Olympians who run barefoot? Apparently, they have don't get knee problems or leg problems nearly as much as those who run with shoes.
So, I figured that running barefoot was at least worth a try. I stripped off my socks and shoes, changed into my running outfit, and hit the pavement for a two-mile jog.
The sidewalk was mostly clear of debris, so my sharp eye was enough to keep me away from twigs and fallen nuts. For the first few minutes, I put on quite a spectacle for anyone watching at such a late hour, as I was practically prancing from one foot to the next. I wasn't used to it, so I placed each foot with the care of a wary deer.
But after a few minutes, I settled into a natural gait that was fairly similar to my regular running gait, and after about ten minutes I was really jogging. At that point, I began to appreciate the sensuous pleasure of every footfall, feeling the texture of the sidewalk. Some bits of concrete were slightly rougher than others. A few steps onto the cool wet grass was like a mouthful of whipped cream, delightfully smooth and refreshing.
By the time I returned to my apartment, my feet were complaining as though I'd been whipping them, and I headed straight for the shower. To my surprise, upon inspecting the bottom of my feet, I found that they were merely dusty. There were no blood-filled cuts or cratered gouges in my skin.
After a few hours of rest, my legs are still very sore, although that must be partially due to a general soreness in my legs over the past few days. My feet are a little sore, too, but considering the sensations I experienced tonight, it was well worth this.
I don't know if I'll run barefoot every time I run, but I certainly can't wait to do it again.
One of the great advantages of moving out of one's parents' house is the ability to go back.
My parents hosted a neighborhood party on Sunday, and I decided to go. It was a fun opportunity to see neighbors that I hadn't talked to in years. And, I could bring deviled eggs.
The eggs were a bit of a chore, as I've been working for awhile to perfect a system of baking the eggs instead of boiling them. I could put them on the racks of the oven (which was set for 325 degrees Fahrenheit), and they'd cook fully, but each had two large brown marks where the egg had rested against the grill. I finally solved the problem by stopping after fifteen minutes, five minutes, and another five minutes to rotate the eggs slightly. After the last rotation, five more minutes in the oven (thirty minutes total) cooked the eggs through. Then it was just a matter of tossing them in cold water and peeling them. Two of the eggs burst in the oven, but one was okay so I ended up with ten deviled eggs. Mixing mayonnaise and sugar with the yolks to taste was all else I needed to do.
Then, after arriving early and helping my parents get ready, I chatted with old neighbors for several hours. It was great. When we moved in twenty-five years ago, most of the families had young children, so I was used to hearing the shouts of kids playing as I grew up. As time went on, they all grew up and the new families were either much older or much younger—new couples who didn't want children—and the shouts of children faded from the streets. But a few families with children have moved in recently, so I had the pleasant experience of chatting with joking acquaintances while children roamed the property, shouting and squealing to each other.
Afterwards, I stopped by Blockbuster's and rented The Maltese Falcon, as part of my program to watch Ebert's Great Movies. I watched it almost immediately after returning home.
The Maltese Falcon was completely different than I'd expected. It's amazing how much I thought I knew from short clips and sly references.
For one, Sam Spade is incredibly slick. As someone in the film puts it, he has a fast mouth. He's not necessarily smart, but he can always come up with some explanation or justification or line of questioning on the spot. That's probably what elevates the character into greatness; he has a unique power.
Morever, Spade—like every other character—has strange, hidden depths to him. I was never quite sure what was going on within each character's head. Even at the end, characters betray surprises about their motivations.
John Huston did a masterful job with the camera, zooming in or out—sometimes just slightly—to emphasize a plot point or keep the actors in the frame without resorting to a cut. It's the sort of camerawork that's often overused in Hong Kong filmmaking, where the camera will rapidly zoom in on a character's face from a long shot, to heighten tension. In Hong Kong, it was exaggerated; here, it is used with supreme finesse.
Overall, I was as impressed as I hoped I'd be for a Great Film.
Lileks agrees with me about Spider-Man 2's music:
Otherspace Productions is going well. I had three folks over at my apartment on Saturday: an in-betweener (who was actually redrawing one sequence to fix some errors in the key cels), a CGI artist, and a background artist (who was also the CGI artist's boyfriend and is helping her significantly with the CGI).
I've discovered that CGI is quite expensive, partly because of audience expectations. CGI is supposed to be intricately detailed and relentlessly realistic. We're used to excellent CGI, really.
The other problem with CGI, though, is its elasticity. It's so easy to change things that I can always find something to tweak, something to improve. I could spend the next six months adding detail and otherwise changing this one shot. Meanwhile, it's costing me hundreds of dollars.
But we're making solid progress; the shot is beginning to progress from good to jaw-dropping beauty.
After the animators left, I went out to see Spider-Man 2. I liked it, though it didn't live up to my friends' reviews, most of which claimed it was better than the original. I still like the original a bit more, mainly because this film seemed more muddy. The plot is straightforward, and a lot of scenes drag on for quite awhile with no real change coming about as a result of them. The film was never boring, but it was often ponderous and sluggish. I'm reminded of a quote, "Any work that aspires to greatness should carry its justification with every line." Spider-Man 2 was a very good film, but it didn't reinforce its justification often enough.
I'm also disappointed with the music, though this also applies to the first film. When I listen to a piece of music from Star Wars or Lord of the Rings, I can often identify the exact scene it accompanies. I can recognize individual characters' themes. I can't do that with Spider-Man music. Spider-Man's music is a series of horn trills, of music that accompanies the film but does not flesh it out or make it any more alive. It's like playing Rhapsody in Blue on a kazoo; yes, the melody is still there, but it doesn't have the full force it deserves.
I was not disappointed, as some of my friends were, with the obviously CGI nature of the later action sequences. I was thrilled with them, actually, because they were actually able to portray a big comic book fight. Comic book characters don't look real when they fight. The fights are supposed to look larger-than-life and impossible.
I also simply must point out my favorite shot in the film. When Doctor Octopus is going nuts in the operating room, one of his victims dives for a chain saw. It's a shot that would be right at home in Evil Dead 2 (from what little I've seen of it) or Army of Darkness, which is by the same director. Hilarious.
I'm feeling a little better today, especially as my deadline at work was pushed back two weeks. Yay! I can go to Otakon guilt-free!
A few words on Mike Nelson's Death Rat, as promised:
I'd hoped the book would be gut-wrenchingly funny, but assumed it would be just a solid, fun book. It definitely fell into the latter category. It reminded me a bit of Terry Pratchett's early Discworld novels, actually; off-kilter and unique comedy combined with an intricate plot involving several very unusual heroes and antagonists.
The story features a "snowball" structure—the protagonist makes a bad decision, and things snowball into wilder and wilder situations. In this case, a middling historical author named Pontius Feeb decides to write a silly beach novel, but publishers are interested in writers that they can send around on book tours, and they certainly can't push a nervous old man in front of an audience to read from an adventure novel. So Feeb gets a strapping young friend of his to pretend he wrote the book. And things snowball from there.
One of the things I really like about the book is its focus on the upper Midwest. It's a part of our country that gets far too little exposure in the literary world, and I enjoyed getting a glimpse at the hardier peoples of Minnesota. These are sensible people—just as likely as any others to be prejudiced and stupid, but they have a simple certainty about themselves. If they indulge in trifling hobbies, it's not because they're desperately struggling for a sense of identity.
And it's those sorts of touches that make for enjoyable reading. I enjoyed it because of what Nelson brings to the book as his own unique person. As it stands, Death Rat was a heck of a lot of fun, and the sort of book I know I'll enjoy reading again.
As expected, I'm in a fairly dark place right now.
This is expected because I've now lived long enough to have learned that – simply because of regression to the mean – emotional high times in my life are usually followed by relatively low times. The high time, in this case, was my week with Saalon, which was a joy and fulfilling on several levels. He was great, and I loved hanging out with his friends. It was one of the best weeks I've ever experienced.
My current low is related to this. I've realized recently that I have a paucity of real friends around me locally. The solid friendships I've made recently with people in this area have melted away as my friends have moved away for other jobs or opportunities. Those I have left are separated by emotional and ideological gulfs that prevent us from delving deeply enough to establish truly deep friendships. Sometimes, I haven't made much of an effort, but this goes beyond that. There are some people that you just hit it off with, and those are the people I miss. I love my more casual friends – they're great people – but I don't have the same emotional connection with them as I've had with those who've left.
Meanwhile, I felt like I hit it off with the folks up at Saalon's. I want to hang out with them as often as possible, to see movies and go drinking and sit around and shoot the breeze for hours and days and months and years. But they're all hundreds of miles away. I miss them, deeply. I live in Washington, D.C, where nobody stays long, and I'm used to people coming and going. But this separation affects me deeply.
Moreover, this comes at a time when I'm at a tough spot at work. The real deadline is very soon – a week from Monday, probably (it might get pushed back a week or so). I have a lot of work to do by then. Not too much, but a lot.
The problem is that I have absolutely no drive to do any of that work. I look at my to-do list – with a full understanding of the impending deadline – and I'm about as interested in work as I am in tractor pulls.
This lack of emotional reaction worries me. I'd rather be scared and working like Paul Bunyan on crystal meth than uncaring as I am. This makes it all the harder for me to actually do the work, and at this point I'm afraid that I won't have the gumption to actually do all the work that I need to do.
Which means that I may have to work quite a bit of overtime over the next few weeks. While I'm mildly depressed and need as much time off as possible to recover; otherwise I'll slip further into depression, which will further feed my apathy at work, and here we go 'round the mulberry bush....
I've filled my spare time with activities that are both fun and important to me – reading, baking, cleaning my apartment a little (for the psychological boost of exercising control over my environment), exercising, watching anime. But they don't help to banish the depression; they merely keep it from getting worse. I need to have the time to let the depression pass. And work is denying me that time, for several weeks at least (once the deadline hits, I'll spend two weeks with the customer as they review the documentation).
I wish I had a satisfying, pithy end to this entry. I don't. I just have me, and I'm feeling open-ended right now.
I intend to post a full entry today; I just wanted to put that up before I forgot.
Okay, I'm back. And doing my best to return to normal.
Though, of course, our lives never return to a true, indefinite equilibrium. If history teaches us anything, it's the constancy of change and the vast variety of human nature. Living a "normal" life implies an average, which simply isn't meaningful when it comes to living life.
But I am trying to re-establish my routines, and find better ways to live. I had my animators over on Saturday, and spent Sunday afternoon with my parents, as usual. I thrive on routine.
My newest new organizational tool is a weekly to-do list. This list contains all the things I'd really like to do frequently, but often forget about. I print out a new list every week and put it on my desk where I'll see it every day, and I use it to remind myself of my priorities. Here's the list (unordered):
- Faith-building exercise
- Pray for ____ minutes (one more each week)
- Rent (and watch) one Great Movie, from Roger Ebert's list
- Watch one current movie in theaters
- Watch anime
- Read up on jazz
- Read up on techno
- Listen to a classical piece
- Read a book
- Read a long stretch of the Bible (multiple chapters)
- Work on a Syllable application or tutorial
- Call friends (Saalon, Brennen, others)
- Practice piano
- Practice violin
- Compose some music
There's also space at the bottom to add items that only apply to that week (like, this week, capturing the behind-the-scenes video footage I taped last week and storing it on a backup external hard drive).
More VR story:
"Done," the boy murmured, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Put on your eyes, man, and go."
Thomas flipped over the goggles in his hand and saw that there was indeed a picture on the inside. Doodlehopper hid a smirk by sipping from her mug. Thomas chuckled at himself, then slid on the goggles. He twiddled his fingers, and....
He stood in the battered, dingy pilot's mess on the I.S.S. space carrier Tiger's Fang. It was a large grey chamber, evenly punctuated with metal tables and benches, and occupied by about twenty young, clean-cut men and women. The only ways to tell them apart in their grey flight uniforms were their skin color, hair color, and height, as well as the most important: the trim of their uniforms, in auburn, royal blue, and hunter green. There were only three uniforms with hunter green in the room, and their owners were all being treated like great samurai. Which, in this world's way, they were.
One whole wall was taken up by a vidscreen, on which was a list of about fifty names, with statistics for each. As he glanced, one name blinked out from a dirty green to a dim grey; a pilot had just died. He was the only one who'd noticed.
A couple of people turned when he arrived, and one attractive young woman surrounded by other pilots lifted an arm and yelled to him, "Oy, Deathie! C'mon over here! Haven't seen you in awhile."
I should explain that I'm going to be out of town for all of this week. I'm up in Pittsburg, helping Saalon film his latest independent film, Dreaming by Strobelight. It's a really incredible experience, frankly. I'm helping him build sets and hold the microphone and just generally provide a helping hand.
He's got an amazing group of actors, too. I've read the script, and they all fit their characters perfectly.
So, I probably won't post any more until next Monday. I plan to squeeze in a posting of the VR story on Wednesday, but no promises.
(Sorry for the lame writing today, but I'm laying on an Aero bed at Saalon's at 1:52 a.m., and we got up at 8:00 a.m. last morning to start shooting. We filmed basic friend scenes, some cool hallway scenes, and an incredibly funky action scene that's set inside an insane dance club. I'm too tired to write evocative prose.)
As I mentioned in an earlier journal entry, I'm condo-hunting.
I'm perfectly happy with my current basement apartment. It's spacious, the rent's only USD $700 a month, and I can decorate it however I want. If I move, I'll need to get at least one roommate to cover the mortgage, taxes, and condo and homeowner's association fees.
But right now, I'm tossing $700 out the car window every month. If I buy a place, I'll have hundreds of thousands of dollars in equity (over time). My monthly mortgage payment is money I can get back any time I want to, simply by selling the condo. And considering how property values are increasing every day, the odds that I'll ever lose money are very low.
The main difficulty lies in the price. I believe in buying only what I can afford, e.g., I want my expenses to be low enough that I'll be able to afford to pay it all even without any renters (even if it's financially straining to do so). At that rate, I can afford about $1,000 a month, which translates to roughly a $200,000 mortgage. And around here, there are very few condos or town houses that are that cheap (and are in decent neighborhoods, and aren't falling apart). I and my agent chatted with a young woman while looking at one condo; she complained about how difficult it is for someone who's just starting out to find a place to live. She has my sympathies; I'm lucky in that I have a relatively high-paying job.
There's one other aspect to condo hunting that's proving to be my central concern: Do I love the place? I've found condos that I like, and where I wouldn't mind living. But I haven't really fallen in love with any place yet.
On the other hand, I only started looking a couple of weeks ago. I have nothing pushing me to move. I can afford to take my time.
There's a big gulf between thinking "I could live here" and thinking "I want to live here."
Reviewed the townhouse again last night. There's a lot to be done.
For those unfamiliar with the process, here's a quick overview of the steps required in buying a home:
- Look for homes that are being sold. You can do this through an agent, or not. The standard trade-off applies: If you use an agent, you have have to pay him/her fees when you "close" (more on that later), but the agent does a lot of footwork for you, finding homes within your price range, talking to the homeowners, etc. My agent was great, and well worth her commission. I just told her when I could go looking, and when I arrived at the office she'd have a list of a dozen properties that matched my criteria. Cost: None.
- Visit homes that are being sold. At this point, you're looking at major factors: Is it big enough? Do the appliances look new or old? Do you like the layout? You're not inspecting the plumbing under the bathroom sinks. Cost: None.
- Put a contract on a home. This is not purchasing. This is essentially a document that prevents the seller from selling the property for the time being. It's a way for the purchaser to state his/her intention to buy the property. The buyer can still opt-out later. If you're going through an agent, the agent will charge you fees to set up the contract. In my case, it was $3,000.
- Buyer Walkthrough. The buyer "walks through" the house, almost always with an accredited home inspector. The inspector's job is to inspect everything in the house, from the insulation in the attic to the heat pump in the basement, in detail. Ideally, the inspector will explain every test and result to the buyer during the walkthrough. Either way, the inspector then gives the buyer a complete list of "walkthrough items" that needs repair or improvement. For example, in my townhouse, the inspector discovered that one circuit breaker was overloaded with two wires—not imminently dangerous, but a violation of county codes—and that the fan in the upstairs bathroom didn't work, along with numerous minor details. Cost: about $150
- The buyer gets a mortgage. A mortgage is essentially a big loan, which is calculated so that it'll be paid back after a few decades. Most mortgages last for thirty years. However, with many mortgages, you can pay it off early. So, for example, I could sell this townhouse in two years, and use that money to completely pay off my mortgage (assuming I sell it for at least as much as I paid for it). I'm not locking myself into make mortgage payments for the next thirty years of my life. Cost: $3,000, in my case.
- Settlement (a.k.a. Closing). The buyer and the seller sit down with a title officer (not sure of the exact job title), who explains all the details of transferring ownership and provides the paperwork that both parties need. The buyer and seller sign the appropriate paperwork, and the title company transfers ownership of the property from the seller to the buyer. Done!
Note: Some mortgages require a down payment, which is a small chunk of the loan that the buyer has to pay immediately. A down payment is required if the buyer has insufficient credit; it's a way for the mortgage company to be sure that the buyer is really serious and actually has access to significant money. The down payment is usually 5% or 10% of the full mortgage amount.
There are a lot more details involved, but I think I've covered all the major points.
In other news, I finished watching the first disc of Gundam SEED yesterday. The first few episodes were just okay, but it's improved steadily by the end of the disc (episode five). It's got a solid cast of interesting characters, in the best Gundam tradition.
They're also raiding the weirder bits of original Mobile Suit Gundam for concepts, which they've reworked beautifully into items like the Mu La Flaga's mobile armor. From what I can tell, they took the ill-fated G-Armor, which was a clunky fighter/bomber that docked with Gundam to protect it and add firepower, and added the separatable gun pods seen in later Zeon prototype mobile suits, and combined them to create the blazingly fast mobile armor. All of the coolness, none of the drawbacks.
Well, that's it. I closed on a townhouse this morning. I now own a home, as much as anyone actually owns one.
Amazingly, I'm not a complete basket case. I'm pretty calm about it. This was a decision I came to slowly and deliberately. This feels right.
More VR story coming later today.
I read Donald Norman's The Design of Everday Things last week.
I expected a set of case studies in product design. Perhaps each chapter would be devoted to a particular modern appliance or tool — the teapot, the toaster, the microwave oven — and illuminate its faults and successes.
The book does study various everyday things, but it's much more of a manifesto than a set of case studies. It's a call for reasonable design. It pleads with designers to ask themselves, How will our users use this? What do your users need? Make it easy for users to do what they need to do.
Norman uses the phrase "it probably won a design award" disparagingly, as he points out that the profession of design often rewards aesthetic balance more than practical usability. For example, glass doors with no handles or plates, so you have no idea where to push or pull them. As you approach them, you wonder, Are they automatic? Do I push the door on the left side or the right?
Fortunately, he recognizes the inherent difficulty in achieving good design. He illustrates this with airplane cockpit design. A physical dial that shows altitude is more difficult for the brain to interpret than a digital readout, but a digital readout can fail while a dial will continue operating. Which is better? The decision isn't easy or obvious.
But many design decisions aren't that difficult, and Norman provides an excellent overview of the problems involved and the need for simply usable design.
This past week has been a complete blur of work.
The customer came in to audit our documents. This translated to half a dozen folks sitting in front of computers in a conference room, electronically reviewing documents and writing up "Formal Action Items" if they found anything wrong. A Form Action Item is essentially a description of a problem that needs to be resolved before the customer will accept the documents.
Unfortunately, the customer was there from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., and I had to be there at the same time. Because of my late-night sleep patterns, this wrought havoc on my body. I was exhausted all morning, and by the afternoon I'd been forcing my body for so long that I never felt 100%.
So, it was a tiring week. But the customers only wrote twenty Action Items, all of them minor, and they seemed content with the documents. It's always a bit hard to tell, as they're reluctant to praise.
On another positive note, despite my tiredness, I still completed over half of the items on my weekly to-do list. And some of the completed items were fairly time-intensive, like watching a Great Movie and assembling a new BeOS machine to replace the one that died.
This is on top of a week that included the roller coaster ride of my mortgage. First, the underwriters wanted very specific documentation about a line of credit that I have with my Mom and Grandmother, and it took several phone calls to various people to satisfy that requirement. Then, the underwriters wouldn't approve me for a loan with no down payment; they insisted on 5% down. But I don't have that kind of money on hand, so I had to arrange a quick loan from my parents.
Just to make sure I understood everything properly, I called my loan officer on Friday. She told me that I'd need to bring to closing the down payment ($10,000) plus $3,000 for closing costs (taxes, title insurance, fees). On Saturday, I received the estimates in the mail, and according to them I needed to bring the down payment plus $6,000. A worried call to my loan officer this morning revealed the situation: the mailed estimates were the first estimates we'd done on the property, and to be safe the loan officer had written in the highest possible amounts. We now have much more accurate estimates, which are indeed $3,000. Whew.
This whole mortgage issue has been quite a headache, actually. If nothing else, I'm annoyed at the number of hoops I've had to jump through and the confusing terms used to describe the money I need to pay. If a firm were to provide the same service in a package that eliminated all the jargon, I imagine they'd have a lot of happy customers.
Anyvay, I still have quite a bit to take care of: I called an insurance place to get some homeowner's insurance, and they're setting up a policy for me now. I need to call about buying a parking sticker. I still need to withdraw the cashier's check for closing on Wednesday. And I haven't even bought the place yet.
I look forward to the day when I'm at least somewhat familiar with this process.
It's been a looooong week.
But at least I have my weekend free. Saturday afternoon will be spent working on Otherspace Productions animations. In fact, I assembled a rough version of one shot last night.
It's an odd emotional experience, assembling animation. I envisioned this thing months ago, and I saw it clearly in my mind, but that's all that existed. Thoughts. But last night, I clicked "Render" in Premiere, and lain walked towards me. A lain that I had created out of a random idea. I dreamt it, and now it's happening.
Meanwhile, my pending mortgage continues to be a thorn in my side. The underwriters are asking for all sorts of documentation, from detailed bank statements to money down. But it looks like everything is calmed down to the point where I know exactly how much I'll need to bring to closing ($3,000 for all the various fees, plus a 5% downpayment of $10,000), and all the underwriters need now is a detailed statement from one of my accounts, which they should be getting today. So it looks like I may actually be able to buy this townhouse on Wednesday.
In other news, I've been watching a ton of anime lately, trying to get through my stack of twenty or so anime DVDs to see. This includes .hack//Sign, .hack//Legend of the Twilight, Gundam Seed, and Angelic Layer, all of which I'm enjoying on various levels. I'll post more detailed reviews once I've actually had a chance to get through a disc or two.
Forgot to mention: a couple of weeks ago, I went out with a friend to see I, Robot. I liked it. I'm a major Asimov fan, too, so this may surprise some people.
The fundamental plot of the film concerns the Three Laws of Robotics, which are essentially a straightforward moral code for robots, and their potential for mis-application. This is a theme explored in Asimov's book I, Robot, which is really a compendium of short stories dealing with early robot development and various interpretations of the Three Laws. In all cases, the robots follow the Three Laws, but some robot models apply the Laws more liberally and some more conservatively.
In the film, this leads to an apocalyptic ending that is far too action-packed and melodramatic for Asimov's cerebral style. But the basic story does follow the pattern laid down in the I, Robot book, and there is nothing in the movie's philosophy that fundamentally disagrees with Asimov's futuristic beliefs. This is not an anti-robot film, or an anti-progress film. It's a film about the dangers and limitations of an exclusively logical approach to human problems.
Now that might have gotten Asimov's beard in a twist, as his books expressed his aggressively Carl Sagan-like belief in the ultimate superiority of the human brain to solve all problems. The greatest weakness of Asimov's characters is their tendency to analyze and talk about everything. Many of his books are little more than long conversations between characters. Anything could be solved if simply thought about for long enough.
The film of I, Robot points out the weakness of that approach, though again never in a way that undermines Asimov's stories or faith in the future. In fact, the film is an ironic pointer to the flaws in Asimov's characteristic approach to problem-solving (namely, extensive analysis and dialogue), demonstrating that that often isn't enough to solve difficult human problems. No amount of analysis can prove the existence of a soul.
I seem to be recovering, according to my normal schedule (fine on Monday, dive on Tuesday, plateau on Wednesday). My mortgage continues its rocky road; I now may need more money than I expected. I can't really think about it enough to write about it, though.
For now, here's more VR story:
Kino blinked at Karl, then looked back at the three old men. The silence was so heavy Kino had difficulty breathing, and his pulse pounded loud in his ears.
"You have a third opportunity," said one of the old men. Kino felt his body sag in relief, but pulled it ramrod straight. "We will send an assistant. Go."
Kino and Karl turned, and froze. At the other end of the room, next to the doors, a man hung in chains, his head bowed to the floor. They pushed themselves forwards, out of the room, but kept their eyes on him. He had long white hair, but the body of a forty-year-old, clad in a long black trench coat. A strange, elongated bird perched on his shoulder and stared at them as they passed. The man in chains did not move, and they could see that his eyes were closed. Kino wondered if he was still alive as the door closed behind them.
As soon as they were safely out of earshot, Karl stopped suddenly, his eyes on the floor. Kino stopped and looked at him, then Karl looked up, straight at Kino, his eyes still reflecting determination.
"Kino," Karl said, "we're going to need guns." He paused to think, then continued, "Big guns."
Kino felt himself smile.
Surge pulled Thomas into a cramped room covered with bright posters that he didn't have time to look at; she immediately closed the door and began talking.
"It started a couple of weeks ago. Or, I noticed it then. Pilots were dying, and they weren't coming back." She folded her arms under her breasts and frowned deeper. "You know what this game's like, Deathshead. People may wander off after awhile, but we don't lose week-old players."
He felt himself gaping, and quickly wiped his expression clean. Surge never talked out-of-character; she always acted as if the game were real. Not that she really believed that, of course, but it helped preserve the game's believability if players avoided talking about it as a game and treated it as real combat.
"I did some checking," she continued. Her eyes met his, and fear shone out of them again. "They haven't been online since they died here. Not at all. I had some friends check, too, and they're thorough, Deathie. Real hackers."
I am exhausted.
It's day two of the customer audit at work. Half a dozen people are here, reviewing my documents. It's hell, not because of their personalities (they're great), but because I'm getting up at 7:00 a.m. every morning to get in here on time. On Monday, I had to get up at 5:00 a.m. to print off my materials, after discovering over the weekend that the print servers were down.
And that's all I can force my fingers to write.
In other news, The Register has an excellent article on the recent webloggers attending the Democratic National Convention. I'll quote a bit of a thought-provoking post by Seth Finkelstein quoted in that article, which neatly sums up the problems of attending a conference of 15,000 journalists while thinking that you're there to reinvent journalism:
Okay. Okay okay okay. You all deserve some kind of explanation for this week.
Monday I drove back from Pittsburg, getting in around 5:30 p.m. And then I went to work. I felt like a sack of wet beans, and that was the start of my week.
Tuesday is a vague blur. Nothing much happened, that I can recall.
On Wednesday I woke up early to attend the walkthrough of my townhouse. For those not familiar: This is where the buyer and an inspector rigorously test the house to ensure that it's in good shape: all the electrical outlets work, the dryer actually switches on, etc. This is not to see if the house is a lemon; it's to ensure there are no surprising details that the seller forgot to mention. In my case, the dryer ventillation hose wasn't actually attached to the dryer. There were a handful of other trivial issues; nothing major.
I then spent the rest of the day at work. And by that, I mean that I left work after midnight. My deadline looms.
Thursday, I woke up early to meet with one of my animators, who stopped by to show me the work she'd done this week—coloring several cels and fiddling with the CGI shot. Then, after barely two hours at, work I had to drive out again to meet with the key animator.
That's another story. Briefly, the key animator's been vacationing for much of the summer. But our animation work has been ramping up, so I've wanted to meet with her to talk about increasing her workload. This was the first time in about two months that she's been available to meet. Frustrating, though it's nobody's fault. I told her when she started that nobody else was working on this, so she could take her time. Now, there are five other folks working for Otherspace (not counting myself), and much of it is dependent on the key animator's work.
I then took my work home and worked on that until 1:00 a.m.
Friday, today, I woke up early to meet with my loan officer, to finalize the mortgage on my townhouse. That went reasonably smoothly, though I've just been notified of a slight problem I need to clear up.
I'm literally exhausted. My brain feels like cotton gauze, and my body responds like a golem's. I was hoping to work at least a little this weekend to completely catch up, but I physically can't.
I physically need rest.More VR story. Too tired to write more about my own life. Extremely busy week.
"We're dead, aren't we Kino?" said Karl.
The two thugs stood before a pair of massive red doors, each door fifteen feet high and five feet wide. On either side stood guards, dressed in business suits just like the thugs were. The guards held Uzis. Casually.
Karl nodded miserably and gulped. They heard a thunk that made them both jump, then the doors began to swing open, squeaking like a tortured rat.
They walked through the doors and down to the other end of the chamber, whose high ceiling seemed hundreds of feet above them. At the far end of the chamber was a raised dais, on which sat three ancient men in Chinese robes. The two thugs came to a reluctant stop a respectful distance from the dais. Kino flicked his imploring eyes from one stony face to another. Karl simply stared at the floor, like a child called before the school principal.
"You were ordered to kill Thomas Aznable," rasped one of the old men, his voice slow and precise. "You had two opportunities. Why did you fail?"
Kino spoke with the care of a soldier walking through a minefield. "He was being guarded, Boss."
"By whom?" said another figure with a voice indistinguishable from the first.
"He surprised us both times, Boss. Stunned us before we could see who it was."
They were silent for a moment, unmoving. One of them said, "Why should we give you a third opportunity?"
Kino was silent. He wracked his brains for an answer, but everything he could think of sounded pitiful. He couldn't have a reason.
"Because we won't get a fourth one," said Karl, raising his gaze to look at the three old men. His eyes no longer reflected fear; they reflected the determination of a creature that can see its own death and chooses to face it and go down fighting.
In other news, DDR is tough.
I'm at work at the moment, trying to finish a document and completely overwhelmed by it. I'd hoped to be able to finish it today, but it's too big and I'm too tired.
ANN's right. This is is the greatest online poll ever. If you're not familiar with Tenchi Muyo!, you won't get it.
Updating this journal has felt like a futile exercise lately. Writing well is rarely easy, but for the past few weeks it's been a Herculean task.
Problem is, I want to write journal entries that are well-formed and entertaining as well as revealing. I can splatter my life's ephemera all over these pages, but do I do so in a way that's clear and interesting to my readers?
That may sound like a mere whining fear, but it's not just that. I've realized recently that my journal writing could be much better formed. I want to write well. If I can write well, why not do so?
This came primarily from my recent purchase of Strunk & White's The Elements of Style, which prizes clarity and simplicity. Which is not to suggest that all writers should write like Hemingway; merely that writers should avoid unnecessary or unclear words. The written word should burst to life in crystalline clarity.
To completely change the subject: I'm back today from a wonderful weekend at Saalon's, attending the wrap party for Dreaming by Strobelight. I had a great time with the fifteen or so attendees, eating Lumburgers and drinking sake and playing DDR. I want to move up there even more now.
My book o' the week of about a month ago was Joseph Lowman's Mastering the Techniques of Teaching, written primarily for college instructors but aimed at anyone who has to present material to a group over time.
I found it a bit difficult to read, despite Lowman's straightforward English. Mainly, it's because I'm not a college professor, so I don't have to worry about establishing office hours or determining course objectives.
But to be fair, the book's not about office hours or course objectives; it's about improving teachers' skills. The book advocates a holistic approach, encompassing the students, the environment, and the teacher itself.
Ironically, Lowman proposes that the best way for teachers to improve is for them to focus on their students. But understanding students' perspectives and problems, the teacher can present the most effective material in the most effective manner.
I found the section on student types most interesting, as it listed a handful of common student attitudes so that teachers can better empathize with them. The attitudes are:
- "The typical compliant student is notably teacher dependent, conventional, and highly task oriented. Unlike other types, tehse students are comfortable with being dependent and are content simply to learn what the instructor wants them to know. Compliants speak in class most often to agree with the instructor or ask for clarification. They rarely pos problems or question the teacher's control."
- "Anxious-dependent students...can be spotted early by their excessive concern about grades. Like compliant types, anxious-dependents want to learn exactly what the teacher wants them to know—but these fear that they will miss something....[they] distrust teacheres and expect trick questions or unfair grading practices. Their combination of high ambition, anxiety, and suspiciousness suggests that they feel angry about having less power in the educational setting than they would like."
- "Discouraged workers...make comments in class that communicate a depressed and fatalistic attitude towards themselves and their education....Some may have worked so hard to earn high grades in the past that they no longer find learning pleasurable; they have burned out. Often they are older students coming back to school...who find it hard to regain their youthful enthusiasm. Some have jobs or families...."
- "Independent students take what instructors have to offer and pursue their own goals in equal measure. They are comfortable (perhaps even detached or aloof) in doing what is asked of them...high participators, make friends with instructors easily, and identify with them to some extent, much as many graduate students relate to their professors."
- "Heroes...lack the detachment of the indpendents, and seem anxious to make the teacher notice immediately what great students and interesting people they are. Most critically, heroes routinely fail to deliver on their initial promise. They are the erratic, optimistic underachievers who initially excite an instructor with their intensity and grand plans for independent projects, only to disappoint later with poor execution."
These are all presented in the spirit of identification, so that teachers can recognize the dynamics of the class early. None of these types are flawless, and of course there are innumerable variations on each.
Lowman does not focus exclusively on the students, though; a full forty-five pages are devoted to the instructor's craft. How can the teacher most effectively utilize the drama inherent in lecture? The lecture hall is a dramatic stage, after all. Lowman spends twenty pages answering that question.
So, overall, it's a good book. If I were a professor, it would be my bible; instead, it's a solid discussion of a complicated subject.
Had a pretty good night last night. Didn't write a thing, but I did manage to exercise and paint some more of my bedroom. It felt good to get something done. It always does.
Now, more VR story:
Thomas pulled up a window, typed a few commands, and closed his eyes. He ignored the growing sounds of creaking wood and horse hooves on cobblestones, giving himself room to be calm. He always had difficulty with social games.
He opened his eyes to find himself in an eighteenth century coach, surrounded by dark woods. Rich curtains hung, swaying, from the windows. He was momentarily thankful that VR couldn’t fully convey a sense of motion, as the coach bumped along its way.
The muffled clip-clop outside slowed, then stopped, and the coach came to a halt. The door opened, and Thomas unfolded himself into the night air. He stood before a large manor house, every window lit with candles, casting a warm glow on the black shadows of towering oaks around it. He strode inside, barely glancing at the scenery.
Within, a pastel kaleidoscope of skirts swirled and swayed and filled a large ballroom with the titters and murmurs of a hundred young gentlemen and ladies all vying for the next great dramatic moment. A string quartet at the far end of the room played Mozart.
Thomas ground his teeth together. He hated this place. The poseurs of VR all gathered here. This was a magnet for all the bored housewives and snobbish retired old men who didn't have the imagination for a fantasy game and instead vied for positions on the social ladder of a long-dead but longed-for society. Half of them were or had once been politicians, and that should tell you something.
He put on his best Mr. Darcy face and scanned the crowd. The quartet finished its precise rendition of Mozart—it was just a music file being aped by computer-rendered musicians—and the crowd paused and broke into polite but disinterested applause. And there she was, in a gold dress that glistened with jewels like dewdrops in the light of a hundred candles, her auburn hair made up in fanciful curls, just turning her pretty little head from the bland, beaming face of her dance partner to glance in Thomas' direction.
Huzzah! Thanks to Brennen's tremendous work over the past few weeks, this journal is back to normal. I can post like usual again. Thanks, Bren!
In other news, I've been feeling rather blue for the past couple of days. I suspect I may be fighting off an illness.
The weekend was a bit of a dud. Saturday was unexpectedly busy; I spent it driving all around the area doing various errands. One annoying thing about the D.C. area is that it's so spread out. You can't just walk to the local grocery store. Old Navy? Sure, half an hour away....
It's particularly annoying when you want to buy, say, a dual 2.0 Ghz Power Mac G5 with 1.5 GB of RAM. Like I did.
Ahem.
Okay, I'll stop being coy. It's amazingly fast, yes, but I'm not geeking out about it. Really. To be honest, it's an Otherspace Productions computer. I bought it specifically so that we can render video and do other animation-related tasks rapidly. I can already tell that it'll speed us up. Heck, it's already sped me up in terms of being able to generate sample animations. So, the computer isn't my toy as much as it is a company resource.
Not that that will stop me from installing Neverwinter Nights on it, probably.
My slight shade of blue is due partly to my parents being out of town, which means I've had to take care of one of their dogs, and check in on my grandmother every day. Both of whom have been great; they're just extra gravitational stresses that have pulled me off-orbit. (Wow. Pardon the needlessly confusing metaphor.) They're both distracting in the same way that a low-level background process eats up processing time for a computer. I can still function; I'm just not totally here.
My little motivational intentional living thing has been working out well, though. I have kept up with it, so far. I'm running and performing strength training according to schedule, I'm writing every weekday night, I'm reading the Bible consistently, and I've been keeping up-to-date with Otherspace Productions responsibilities. It's been amazing to see that defining specific personal goals has an immediate practical benefit.
And in closing, if you ever get a chance to see it, Mezzo TV will kick your tail from here to Mars.
When am I going to have time to get out in the garden?
I've been a lot more responsible lately.
For example, last night I put the last dish in the sink, looked down at it, and though to myself, I want to have a clean, empty sink. So I cleaned all the dishes, gave the sink my Chlorine Enema™, and wiped it down with Clorox. And afterwards I felt good.
This is in contrast to my attitude at my old apartment, which I can summarize as "Eh." Picture a Gallic shrug to accompany it. It's not that I hated cleaning; I just had no particular desire to do so, and afterwards I felt no better than I had before.
This may be a result of my personal intentions, which I've been satisfying every day this week. And boy does that feel good. I'm really accomplishing things that are important to me.
Here's the townhouse that's receiving the benefits of my increased responsibility:
If you walk in the front door, you'll come into the living room. I took this picture just before I moved in. There's a lot more furniture now.
If you were to walk all the way back to that stepladder and turn around, here's what you'd see:
Then if you went upstairs, you'd come to a bathroom and two bedrooms. Here's the front bedroom:
It's a nice little townhouse, really. It's just too bad that nothing works....
Apparently, summer has grumpily decided to play ball once again. Temperatures were back in the 80's on Tuesday.
I had a tough time concentrating at work on Tuesday. I had a good day; more productive than almost any other day in months. But Monday was better, and I'm probably a bit worried that my initial enthusiasm is already waning. I was tired and generally a bit bored with documentation work. Hard to blame myself for that, really, and I shouldn't expect a good system to completely and permanently revitalize my work attitude. It's a work in progress.
I left work mercifully early to meet with my art teacher, who has returned from a summer of rest to her teaching. We worked on charcoal sketches of a skull, which was great, messy fun. There's something satisfying about messy art; perhaps it reminds me of very early days of finger-painting and pastel chalks, when art was messy and joyful and nobody minded.
I came home to my list of personal improvements, which I now realize I haven't explained here. I've chosen five areas of my life that I want to focus on improving: my body, my spiritual life, my job, my writing, and my animation company. I wrote goals describing how I want to be in those five areas a year from now, and what I need to do in the next three months to move towards those goals. Most of that ended up being daily activities, such as writing two hundred words of fiction a day.
I achieved all of them, including a twenty-minute run, a fifteen minute Bible reading, and a writing session that got out of hand and I didn't stop until I'd written six hundred words. There's an auspicious start to my personal improvements, I must say.
Unfortunately, I got almost nothing else done; for some reason I cracked my copy of Watchmen and couldn't put it down until I'd read half of it (to the point where Rorschach had just finished describing his genesis). What a depressing, frustrating, discouraging, bleak, brilliant book.
Now, more VR story:
He frowned. "What would happen in a player's death on this game that would keep them totally offline?" he asked. "Have you died recently? Have the deaths changed?"
She looked away, seeming a tad embarrassed. "Nothing's changed. I...well, I have to be honest with you Deathie, I haven't died since then. I mean, I haven't gone on any real dangerous missions. I just...haven't really wanted to for the past couple of weeks."
He felt himself gape again, and allowed himself to, partly to show her he realized the importance of her admission. Surge's full name was "Surgeon," and she'd earned it after so many players had described her nearly miraculous aim as "surgical." She was one of the best pilots in the game, she'd been on hundreds of missions, and she was always one of the first to volunteer for another one. And now she was so frightened she was avoiding combat?
She looked back at him. "I just had to tell someone. Sorry to dump on you." She forced a pathetic laugh. "Didn't mean to freak you out. It's probably just all my imagination anyway. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff outside of here. You know."
He nodded, slowly, his head spinning. He pulled himself together and looked her square in the face. "Listen. I'm in trouble. Somebody's after me...outside. I don't know why. Has anyone here been sniffing around?"
She shook her head. "No, nobody. Though it might've slipped by me, frankly. Are you in trouble, Deathie?"
His avatar gave her a sardonic grin. "Apparently. I don't know why they have a problem with me, though. But listen, Surgeon, you have to keep quiet about this. I know I can trust you. Don't tell anyone that anything out of the ordinary is going on. If anyone asks about why I logged in, tell 'em I just wanted to check in with you. And tell me. Okay?"
She nodded and said, "I promise." He breathed a relieved sigh. He knew several hundred people seriously in VR. He trusted perhaps five of them. Surgeon was one of those five.
Sunday, fall arrived like a hammer blow. I woke up to a 70-degree house and that nip in the air that can only be found in fall. Spring can be cold, but it's a gentle kind of cold. Sunday morning hinted of falling leaves and leather jackets.
Sunday was pretty much perfect. I woke up at noon, which negated my morning but left me completely rested, so I figured that was a net plus. I then drove to my parents' and gave them their birthday presents—Dad's birthday was last week and Mom's was that day—and a plate of gingersnap cookies. We sat in the side garden I planted and simply enjoyed its lush elegance, now overflowing with plants that Mom planted. We then drove to Clyde's for a lovely dinner on the brick sidewalk, next to a sparse Oktoberfest tent from which emanated the sounds of a band playing everything from Edelweiss to Bad Bad Leroy Brown.
We then walked around to the movie theater to discover they their showing of Hero had started nine minutes previously. After a moment's deliberation, we decided to go for it, and slipped into our seats just as the final preview was ending. Huzzah!
Hero was brilliant. It's in the same visual and stylistic vein as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, though of course the story and the spine were completely different. Hero is about larger aspects of courage and dedication to an ideal, while Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon focuses on aspects of maturity.
Hero is certainly a gorgeous film, filled with imagery that is clearly meant to be simply visually beautiful. I was tickled to see that CT,HD has spawned this new style of Hong Kong film: epic, bold, and beautiful.
(I was also tickled to see Donnie Yen, a personal favorite Hong Kong actor of mine.)
Then I returned home, to run stress tests on the Syllable file system and climb wearily into bed. A good day.
I slept late Monday morning, which is common for me. After stopping by Starbuck's to check my e-mail (which is a good example of why nobody can predict the future—imagine ten years ago predicting the trend of ubiquitous wireless internet access in coffee shops), I went to work and began using a time log.
The time log is a sheet of paper on which I note what I'm doing throughout my day. It's inspired by one of the articles at dexterity.com. The idea is to measure your time at work, to see what you're spending your time on. I began doing this last Thursday, and was shocked to discover that I was only spending 35 to 45 minutes a day actually working. The rest of the time was escaping out the valves of co-worker chats, e-mail, snack breaks, etc.
As I began keeping my time log on Monday, I discovered it was motivating me to think about what I was doing. I was much more conscious of my time. As a result, I spent three and a half hours actually working on Monday, about a six-fold increase. Excellent. I would like to eventually more than double that, of course, but it's an excellent start.
Monday night I went to a writer's group that meets once a month at a local Barnes & Noble. We critiqued two stories, and I handed out excerpts from the VR story (which I do intend to start posting again, now that I'm a little more used to the foibles of the new server) for critique. I'll be very interested to hear people's thoughts next month.
I've talked about life balance before, I think. Balance says that you should find a way of doing everything in its proper proportion. It says that, in a given week, you'll always be giving a certain percent of your time to work, another percent to your family, another percent to your friends, and so on. It says that you should seek a way of serving all your needs and goals essentially at the same time.
I think this is wrong.
I think that life changes too much to allow that. I think that sometimes we have to give 100% to work, to the exclusion of the rest of our lives. I think that sometimes we should sacrifice everything for a friend. I think that we should let our lives be unbalanced.
This is not to suggest that we shouldn't pursue all of our goals, or that we should let one thing dominate our lives. But I think a lot of people are pursuing an empty dream of balance, a goal that can never be reached.
A personal example: This past summer, Saalon needed an extra pair of hands in making his latest movie, Dreaming by Strobelight. So I took a week off work, drove six hours to Pittsburgh, and assembled sets and hauled props for sixteen hours a day. A very unbalanced thing to do. I had to put the rest of my life on hold, too. But it was one of the grandest experiences of my life. I would gladly pay to experience that week again.
How to summarize the last few weeks?
I've moved in to my townhouse. That took quite a while, actually, about a month's worth of trips to and from my old apartment. I just have so much stuff; computers, musical instruments, clothes, books, CDs, DVDs...and none of it is easily trashed.
I'm not truly settled in yet, though. I still feel like I'm living in a hotel. I want to feel settled, like this is home, but I suppose I shouldn't expect that when I've only been sleeping here for a couple of weeks.
Work is interesting. I should write a full entry about that. I had my performance review, which went well; my bosses generally praised me but raised a few challenging issues. I need to change. And I'm changing.
Meanwhile, I bought Neverwinter Nights a week ago, and have been playing it regularly. It's quite addictive. They designers made the smart choice of littering the world with quests; my character can hardly move fifty feet without bumping into somebody who needss a hero. And because the quests don't need to be solved in any particular order, there's always something else to do. If I get tired of one quest, I can always work on another.
It's just a shame that the Mac version is so expensive compared to the Windows version. I'm paying $50 for just the game (new), and the expansions cost $30 each; Windows users can get NWN and one expansion for about $20 (used) on eBay.
Would I buy a PC just so I could play cheap games? Not a chance. Windows is not worth my time.
Okay, I seem to be having interesting problems with updating this journal, but at least it's back.
Short version of recent events: I'm fine, and my server is fine. It's taken an awfully long time to resolve a lot of weird little problems with the server, but on the whole I'm pleased with the server.
The new townhouse is good, though it's a lot of work. I'm kinda overwhelmed with everything there is to do.
More to come; I'm in a Starbucks right now and don't have time to write a long entry.
Just a quick update from a local web café: I had an amazingly productive day at work. This seems to be caused by what I did this morning: I wrote out what I planned to do today. It was a simple little list:
- I will work solidly all afternoon.
- I will clean my townhouse.
- I will write at least 200 words.
- I will watch some anime.
I did this yesterday, and I did everything on my list. I'm actually looking forward to completing the list above.
There's something about the process of physical writing that makes things feel more real, somehow.
Blah. I'm in a funk at the moment. It's a combination of things, really: Last week's cold is still hanging on with a few skeletal fingers, just enough to keep me down a little. I haven't exercised in nearly a week. I'm not going to sleep until 2-3 a.m. every night, and the alarm goes off at 8:30, so I'm tired. Work is uninspiring. I'm in the midst of figuring out taxes for Otherspace Productions, and keeping all the employees informed. Ick.
And here's where the VR story started to get really fun to write.
Doodlehopper stepped back, completely nonplussed, her jaw hanging open in shock.
"You couldn't tell me that you wanted to go along, could you? No, you had to protect me from myself, like you've been doing all along. I had to be rescued from my own apartment. I had to be dragged to Safe House. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being treated like a baby."
Doodlehopper spun to face the door and Thomas grabbed her shoulder and said, "Don't you run away—" But she was not running away; her every sense was attuned and pricked and straining. She turned and launched herself at Thomas, taking him down in a heap.
The shelves exploded in fireworks of brightly-colored shards of plastic and metal, glittering in the air amidst the fine dust of pulverized mass-market snack food. To Thomas, it sounded like an Apollo rocket was lifting off next door. His hands covered his ears as his eyes squeezed shut as he felt bits of shelving and less destructible foods bounce off his body.
The glass drink cases began to shatter and the bottles inside exploded in neon fountains of overpriced sugar water, flooding the floor in a sticky rainbow. The lights went next, each one shattering and sparking at random. Then, finally, the thunder of gunfire ceased.
On the street outside, three men stood in a line facing the store. Kino, the one on the left, looked nervously at the man in the middle. Karl, the one on the right, looked with awe at the man in the middle. The man in the middle wore a trenchoat which billowed in the wind, and in each hand he held a machine gun one foot in diameter. His muscles bulged, and his nasty grin twisted the nasty scar that ran from his right eye down to his chin into a serpentine shape.
The man in the middle stepped forward, his weathered military boots crunching on the shattered remnants of the convenience store's windows. He took a deep breath and yelled to the blasted wreckage of the store, "I am Grey Hackle the Heavy-Armed, and I have come for Thomas Aznable!"
I finally finished watching the animated Soul Music (one of Terry Pratchett's Discworld stories) Monday night. Oh boy was it bad.
It was particularly bad for me as a nascent animation director. So much of it was good that the bad aspects jumped up and down screaming, spoiling the rest of the show.
The character designs were some of the worst I've ever seen, managing to be both plain and ugly at the same time. Worse, many of the shots were drawn in a terribly conventional manner. How to portray an emotional argument between two professors at Unseen University? Animate one guy from the waist up, talking to the camera. Cut to the other guy animated from the waist up, gesticulating at the camera. Repeat until the scene is over. Ick.
Worse, the characters are animated in a stiff, wooden way that I can't think of a way to accurately describe. They often look like puppets, their legs and arms gesticulating akimbo as if barely connected to their brains.
But there were great aspects. It's a story about rock music, and the music was amazing — perfectly capturing the spirit of The Beatles or the Stones at various times. The direction had some good moments. And most of the cast performed perfectly, particularly Christopher Lee as Death (no surprise there).
So really it's a mixed bag. Some aspects of it are top-notch; others are quite poor. Unfortunately, it's the animation> that's poor, which is most difficult to forgive.
If only I'd had the opportunity to make it.... <sigh>
Normally, I enjoy Presidential elections. I find the give-and-take of public discourse, the unfolding drama of the race, the accusations, the presentations of evidence, all rather fascinating.
But this is the first year in which I'm honestly sick of the elections. I'm tired of reading political screeds on TNH's otherwise informative writing blog. I'm tired of folks ranting about Bush. I'm tired of people going nuts about every detail of Kerry's time in Vietnam.
I want to know four things:
- What kind of man is Bush?
- What kind of man is Kerry?
- What does Bush plan to do as President, specifically?
- What does Kerry plan to do as President, specifically?
That's all I want to know. Why are folks so focused on screaming about the other guy, and not praising their guy?
Feeling sick. Launched a new Otherspace Productions website and a subsite for Summer Storm. Actually getting a lot done because I don't have to go to work.
Yes, this orange to which I've temporarily set my journal is kinda ugly. But it celebrates Hallowe'en, and that makes me happy.
Hmmm. Forgot to write a journal entry last night.
Yesterday was a bit of a blur, actually. I made some stir-fry for work, I wrote a bit more of the VR story, I read a bit, and I went out running. Surely I did more than that. Can't think of it, though.
I've been rather frustrated with my lack of productivity lately, actually. I have a few major things on my to-do list: painting my townhouse, work on Cronan, and a number of updates to various websites (SUB, Syllable.org, Otherspace, and others). But I never seem to get any of that done; instead I watch MST3K or putz around the house.
Maybe I'm just ignoring my need for relaxation. Maybe I need to give myself some down-time when I get home, then push through some "productive work" later in the evening.
And now, more VR story.
He heard the scuff of boot on concrete and looked to one side to to see Doodlehopper walking towards him. She gave him a smile and leaned on a large rack of servers, her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket.
"Do you ever let me out of your sight?" he said, returning her smile.
Her face clouded and she nearly blushed. Her eyes went to the floor. "Gotta keep an eye on you," she said apologetically. "I'd be a pretty lousy bodyguard if I didn’t."
"I don't mind," he said, waving it away. "It’s your job."
She relaxed visibly, and the server rack groaned as her weight shifted. "That's good. I thought maybe you'd explode when you found out I'd followed you in."
"Followed me...." He was puzzled, but only for an instant. "You were with me in VR?"
She blinked. "You mean...you...I had to! It's my job!"
He flushed with anger. "You didn't even trust me in VR? Detective work in there is my job! What, did you think that if something happened, I'd be defenseless and you’d just jump in and rescue me? You think I'm as useless in VR as I am in real life?"
Her mouth hung open, her eyes wide. His words hung in the dry air. The microwave beeped.
Thomas scowled at it, then whirled and stalked away. Doodlehopper pursed her lips, then pushed herself off the server rack and followed.
Doodlehopper trailed Thomas out of Safe House, down several grungy back alleys that were still dim in the wan afternoon sun, increasingly convinced that Thomas had no idea where he was going. He didn't seem to care; just striding forward like Churchill with a stiff wind behind him. He finally emerged on a reasonably active commercial street and entered a convenience store as though seeking vengeance against the owner. Doodlehopper entered quietly, eager to avoid any outright confrontation with Thomas.
She sidled over to the magazine rack and watched Thomas as he picked up a bag of chips and began reading the back. She watched him read that bag for twenty minutes. He only moved to switch the hand holding the bag.
She passed through astonishment and disbelief quickly, settling into resentment and anger for over ten minutes until rage pushed her to edge over to him.
"Oh, come on, Thomas," Doodlehopper hissed. Thomas turned to study several identical — but colorful — sugar-filled drinks in a loudly buzzing refrigerator. "It's my job,” she continued. "I have to protect you."
He whirled on her, his face contorted into an frightening mask of anger and frustration. "It's your job to hide things from me? To go behind my back? To spy on me when I’m trying to do what I do best?"
Sometimes, I feel like I'd be a lot more productive if I threw out my projector and was unable to watch any DVDs.
I planned to do many things last weekend—paint more of my townhouse, read, bake—but, on Saturday, I popped in the Star Wars: A New Hope DVD into the DVD player and noticed a commentary track. Neat, I thought, I'll watch some of it.
By Sunday night I'd watched all three movies all the way through, with multiple pauses to think about what I'd just heard. Heck, Irving Kirshner's (sp?) commentary on The Empire Strikes Back was worth the price of the DVD set. Everyone involved reveals many fascinating aspects of storytelling. They explain their approach to the stories, how they resolved plot problems, neat moments that were though up while filming. I was entranced, and it was all very useful information.
But I got comparatively little done this weekend as a result. And, yes, it's good to have more information, but information without action is useless. Perhaps if I'd only watched one of the films....
I did meet with the animators on Sunday, and things are moving nice and quickly. I think we should be done within the next month or two. I've already begun pre-production on our next animation, which I hope to finish within another six months. Then, I can approach investors and try to get money so I can do this full time. That'll be scary.
I did have a problem: I'm kind of out of money. I paid up all my bills this week, but it tapped all my cash, and I had forgotten to fill up my Otherspace Productions account. So I had to hold back my credit card payment (I had planned to pay off a fair chunk of it; now I'll only be able to pay a little more than the minimum) and transfer enough money to cover this week's work. I hate being in that position.
But at least it's working. I am getting animations made.
Okay! Okay. So I forgot to post more of the VR story on Wednesday, and then completely forgot to update this journal yesterday. I'm a moran.
A brief aside: Some of my readers may have noticed that I regularly refer to this thing as a "journal," not a "blog." I do this because I'm 0ld sK00l; when I first thought about an online diary, "blog" was a contraction of "weblog" which meant a log of the web, literally a site where somebody would post links to new and cool things around the web, with minimal commentary. Plep is still like this. Sites that were primarily commentary or personal in nature weren't blogs.
However, the term "blog" has now come to mean "any site where people post updates in a journal-like way," so I'm thinking about relaxing my vocabulary enough to refer to this site as a blog. There's a certain satisfactory vocabulatory eliteness in knowing that I'm using the "proper" term, but it's kind of like grammarians who insist that you can never start a sentence with "and" or "but." We've outgrown that rule.
Anyvay, back to things. I've been watching a fair amount of anime lately, out of a desire to get through the several dozen discs that I haven't finished (or, in many cases, started). I watched the first disc of Chrono Crusade, which started out merely good and ended up quite impressive (as anime tends to be very good at doing). It's a fun series set in the Roaring Twenties, but with demons and nuns that pack heat. Underneath that, though, glimmers a heartwarming story in Rosette (the protagonist) and the kind demon that she's tamed.
I also watched the first episode of Gungrave, which is pretty much what I expected—slick and violent with a mysterious backstory, but nothing much beyond that. I don't enjoy violence the way I once did. That said, it was nice to see that the series copies Yasuhiro ("Trigun") Nightow's manga style more closely than Trigun did. Nightow has an almost dreamy, intricate style to his artwork that relies on incomplete lines and an almost sketchy feel that is lost when TV character designs go for simplicity.
Another aside: When an anime is made of a manga, typically a character designer is hired. The existing manga designs are almost always far too detailed to be drawn over and over again by animators. The character designer takes the existing manga designs and simplifies them, using fewer lines but retaining the essence of the artwork. This can compromise the artistic style somewhat.
I also popped in my disk of Neo-Tokyo, a.k.a. Manie Manie. I'd seen a fansub of this awhile back, and loved it; fortunately this was an excellent production. Every frame was intact, and the English voices are pretty much perfect. I was gratified to see that it was a Carl Macek dub; he's been redeeming himself impressively these days (especially considering his perfect dub of My Neighbor Totoro for Fox).
And now, more VR story.
He turned to her, lowering his voice to a whisper, and said, "That wasn't an act."
Her eyes widened. "What's the problem?"
"I don't know. Big guys keep coming after me. With guns. They're trying to kill me." He winced at himself for that, but even if Doodlehopper wasn't willing to trust anybody, Thomas was. "I've managed to get away from them so far, but my luck will run out eventually."
"Why?" she said, her voice perfectly composed but her expression intent on him.
"I don't know." She cocked an eyebrow and he said, "Honestly. My nose is clean." That made him uncomfortable, too. He was pretty sure this had something to do with Client D, but what good would that do for Bright to know?
"And you want me to look into it?"
He couldn’t help smiling. "You certainly are the quickest wit on this sim. Yeah. Do you know why anyone would want a VR detective dead?"
She shook her head. "I don't know of anything. VR detectives are, frankly, not worth the effort. A mistress, maybe. But your kind is too valuable to kill, and your associates are too nosy to let the disappearance of one of your own stay quiet." She frowned in thought, then rattled off a few unlikely scenarios which might explain his situation. He shook his head to each of them, explaining how they didn't apply. Finally she let out a frustrated breath.
"Well, I still can’t make heads or tails of this, but I'll look into it," she said, then grinned. "I won't even charge you for it."
He blinked for a moment, nonplussed. "Thanks," he said, suspicion laced through his voice. "No offense, but...uhh...why?"
She swept past him, towards the door. "Like I said," she replied, "Your kind is too valuable."
She opened the door, walked back out into the dance, and closed the door behind her. Thomas caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and glanced over to see a small tabby cat peer at him from behind one of the curtains. He grinned at it, then pointed at it and said, "That's two contacts, and two promises of help. Let’s see Doodlehopper complain about that!"
The cat meowed plaintively, and Thomas logged out.
Thomas peeled off his VR gear, handed them to the teen, and sighed and stretched, feeling his tendons pop. The teen turned towards a display and within seconds was back into a game of nethack, so Thomas wandered away into the depths of the warehouse to find something to fill his growling stomach.
It was like an odd sort of cathedral, where the thin light that filtered through the grimy windows above them cast deep, crossed pools of shadow in unexpected places among the random assortment of moving trucks, stacks of humming computer equipment, and plain cardboard boxes. And among it all, the blind and deaf worshippers danced to the internal lights and music of VR, oblivious to him and the few others who weren’t jacked in.
He discovered that the boxes were filled with supplies—food, soda, t-shirts (most of them illustrated with scowling Korean anime characters), even basic medical supplies. He grabbed a freeze-dried dinner and popped it into a random microwave, one of many scattered around the place.
I'm very proud of that next-to-last paragraph.
I've found that it's much easier to take on a big challenge if you're a member of a group that's all doing the same thing. Ever noticed that, when someone relates a successful weight-loss story, they usually mention joining a class or running with a friend or otherwise losing weight with somebody? Ever noticed how many successful CEOs are members of various sports or business clubs?
I'm taking this observation to heart by joining a couple of groups through Meetup.com. Tuesday evening I went to the first meeting of a science fiction writer's group. It was literally the first meeting; earlier attempts to organize a group had failed, so we were all doing this for the first time. There were only three of us; myself, a guy who's had one story published, and a woman who hasn't even submitted anything yet.
We chatted and read each others' work for an hour and a half, easily trading advice and stories. As we walked to our cars, we joked about a group photograph of us all literally tearing apart each others' manuscripts. It was grand.
And now, I want to write.
(And I did, writing nearly 500 words of animation script tonight, despite exhaustion.)
Why was I exhausted? Because I forgot to eat dinner before the writing group, only grabbing an energy bar before meeting. I went to the grocery store on the way back and picked up some Chinese food, but didn't eat it until 9:30 p.m. So of course my body was sated with food and crashed hard, but recovered and kept me up until nearly 3 a.m. Arg.
I should be writing right now.
I have decided to write at least two hundred words of fiction every day. If I ever want to be a published fiction writer—and I do, strongly—I need to write at least that much. And I'm generally most content with my writing when I write a little bit every day.
It's 12:21 a.m. Tuesday morning as I write this; my alarm will wake me in eight hours and nine minutes. I haven't written my two hundred words for the day yet.
The problem is that I have two major writing tasks. One is the VR story. I'm a bit dissatisfied with the VR story right now, though. It's hard to write. I feel like Paul Atreides in Dune when events became so chaotic that his vision of the future narrowed down to just the present, and he could no longer rely on his foresight. I've always had some idea of what to do next in the VR story, but right now I'm writing blind. It's an uncomfortable feeling, and I'd rather work on something else.
The other major writing task is the script for my next animation. That's even more difficult because I wrote the first draft, then received excellent advice from two folks. They suggested ways that I could re-think the script and strengthen the story. This will require a significant rewrite, but more than that, I'll have to approach the material from a different, better angle. It's always difficult to change your perspective from within yourself.
I could jump to another project. But that feels wrong, somehow. Instead, I think I should choose one or the other.
Because I haven't written my two hundred words for the day. But I will.
(Time passes...)
It's now 12:44 a.m. 213 words written on the VR story, and the first mention of our next villain, Zazun the Blade. G'night!
I'm back from a really nice weekend. I drove up to Pittsburg for a wedding on Saturday. The service was in an amazing Gothic cathedral-style church, and the reception took place at a wonderfully intimate country club nearby. I knew a few of the folks there, so it wasn't lonely at all. I just wish I didn't have a mild cold throughout the entire thing.
I then met with Saalon and stayed over at his place for the night. Had a great time, just chatting. Drove back yesterday and watched some R.O.D. the TV and Chrono Crusade. I'm happy.
I've posted the rest of my old short stories to my writing website.
Note that I just posted my journal entry for last Friday, which I forgot to post at that time.
Ack, I'm tired.
As requested by my boss, I'm trying to get in to work closer to 9:00 a.m. every day, rather than noon. The good news is that it's working; I'm waking up earlier and earlier every day. The bad news is that my body is still adjusting to comparatively early bedtimes. I'll be working just fine at night, then BAM the energy drains out of me and my body screams, "Time for bed!"
I really shouldn't complain, though; at least I'm getting onto a schedule that coincides with the rest of the world. It was frustrating to get the hungry at one a.m. and realize that nothing's open.
Quick status updates: Otherspace Productions is progressing nicely. Everyone's pretty busy. I'm writing at least two hundred words every weeknight, mostly on the VR story. I'd like to finish the VR story within the next six months or so (at least, this first draft). I'm reasonably productive at work, though not as much as I'd like to be.
And I'm increasingly settling into my townhouse. When I moved, I used the guest bedroom and the downstairs closet as a convenient place to stash miscellaneous stuff. I spent much of Sunday and Wednesday nights cleaning all that out, finally. Now the guest bedroom is mostly clean (all I have left in there is pieces of bed, the framed anime cels that I haven't hung in my bedroom yet, some old clothes I want to donate to the Salvation Army, a drafting table I have no other space for, and my isometric strength training device), and the downstairs closet is completely organized.
Of course, once the closet door is closed, I can't tell that anything's changed. But I feel good having done it, and now I feel that I won't be embarrassed if I show the bedroom to potential renters. Which I intend to do soon; an extra $700 a month would be extremely welcome. I just wonder how people will react to a living space with no telephone, no TV, no cable, no satellite, and no internet connection (intentionally).
Scott is a motivational speaker who decided to wear a nametag everywhere he goes, to see how people would react and to see if it would make people friendlier. It worked.
(I love the URL, too.)
I'm finding that starting a small business is one of the most difficult personal challenges I have ever faced.
Sure, it's expensive. It's unpredictable, thus frightening. It's also confusing, as I deal with interpersonal communication among colleagues who misunderstand an idea or a suggestion.
But the most difficult aspect of starting a business is the surprising amount of discipline it requires. If I don't call Jane, then Mary will have nothing to do when she comes over to work...woah, three days from now! So much of the work schedules me rather than my scheduling it.
This is in stark contrast to my regular job, in which I ensure that a large number of documents are updated by a certain date. I can arrange that work in whatever order I see fit. Not so Otherspace Productions, where a lot of the work won't get done unless I talk to thus-and-so today.
I've also been asking myself some philosophical business questions lately. What kind of company do I want to work in? It's not really my company in any exclusive sense; the animators are working as hard as I am and are just as important to the success of the animations. Do I really want the responsibility of being Head Cheese? Is a hierarchy the best structure for an animation studio? Could we get away with the kind of functional pseudo-anarchy of The Gore Group? Can I trust these people enough to give them some control over the company? Can I trust myself enough to give these people some control over the company?
So I wrote up a set of value statements that describe the kind of company I'd like to work for. I sent it to some of the animators for them to peruse and comment on. I'd value your opinions.
In the meantime, here's more VR story:
He stepped forward with the grim purpose of a rescue worker wading into a river to retrieve a struggling victim. And it was like wading into a river, the room was so thick with people, but it was easy for him. One thing people learned quickly in this game was how to read people, and a man striding purposefully through a crowd of debutantes is not a man to interrupt lightly.She had turned back to her dance partner and was tittering about God knows what when he came up behind her and, keeping his voice as flat as possible, said, "Miss Bright?"
She turned, a fake welcoming smile on her lips, until she recognized him. "Mr. Wainwright!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "How marvelous to see you again! I do believe it's been months since I last saw you. Have you been touring on the Continent?"
"We need to talk," he said, his eyes boring into hers.
She was perfectly still. Her banal dance partner looked shocked, and Thomas mentally scowled at him. Thomas had no time for decorum.
"I am afraid," she said, her tone icy, "that Mr. Hausen here has my next dance. If you'll only—"
Thomas stepped forward, gritting his teeth. "I'll be leaving shortly," he said, "and I may be unable to return." She didn't move. "I beg of you, just a moment of your time."
She turned to her partner and murmured, "Please do excuse me, it seems that Mr. Wainwright has a rather urgent matter to discuss." The man nodded dumbly, his eyes wide. A small part of Thomas wondered how this guy had ever managed to get as far as a dance with Miss Bright if such simple events left him speechless.
The musicians began another waltz as Thomas and the woman retreated through a small door into a green waiting room lined with bookcases and furnished with a few chairs and end tables. Floor-to-ceiling French doors opened on a balcony and a slight breeze of fresh night air that caused the heavy curtains to sway slightly like drunkards. He closed the door and she sighed in relief.
"Thank you for that little act," she said. "That Harry's a monster."
Props if you recognize the horrid little pun in the above snippet.
Well, I got home from a tiring day at work yesterday to discover that one of the books I'd ordered from Alibris had arrived. I microwaved a frozen meal and eagerly tore open the package to discover it was Brennen's recommendation, John Brunner's SF novel The Shockwave Rider. I began reading, and didn't put it down until I'd read the last page at 1:00 a.m.
I'm still unsure if I agree with it. In fact, there's at least one deliciously ironic underlying contradiction (or structural story flaw, at least). But on the whole I strongly agree with much of its fundamental premises—that modern people tend to put technology and social constraints ahead of others' humanity, and that society has taken a lot of wrong turns lately.
Though The Shockwave Rider takes the unfortunately common tack of making these problems into a black-and-white moral take of Good People versus Evil People. There's the wise college students sticking it to the evil military-industrial complex which is full of people who blithely hate and destroy. I'd have been a lot more impressed had the novel spent more time on everyone's propensity for good and evil, and for that whole idea of the road to Hell being paved with good intentions. I've observed that much of the evil in this world is perpetuated not by actively evil men but by passively indifferent ones, by generally nice people who spend time with their daughters and read self-help books and squeeze money out of the weekly budget for a local charity and then go into the office and find ways to avoid dealing with that uncomfortable e-mail from a subordinate.
But I shouldn't let my personal desires for a better novel detract from an obviously excellent novel, and The Shockwave Rider certainly is one. I was initially a little disoriented by the aggressive use of futuristic terminology and frequent leaps from character to character, but I soon got used to it. It's tightly plotted, the characters are intriguing and three-dimensional, and I was fascinated all the way through.
...Hmmm. Reading over that again, I realize that I have the grist for another journal entry: How my nonfiction reading skills have affected my SF reading skills. I wasn't reading that book right. But more on that later, if I can actually carve out some time in the evening to write journal entries.
Wow. Check out the top ten best-selling computers on Amazon.com. Six of them are Macs, and the top three are all Macs (iMac G5s, specifically).
On a completely different note, I can think of no better way to describe this than with the Fark headline, "This week: Sex advice from cosplayers. Next week: BBQ tips from vegans." Never thought I'd read about a guy who cosplays Squall from FF8 advising people to avoid using Naruto's bandana for bondage.
I didn't do much today, as I had a mild cold which sapped most of my energy.
- Looked into SD memory cards, as I can't put text files onto my Treo handheld unless I install one. They're fairly inexpensive; a 256 MB card costs about USD $30, and I can fit an awful lot of eTexts in that space. On the other hand, I could get a 1 GB SD card and put a bunch of albums on there, turning my Treo into a portable MP3 player. I might actually use it for that (even though 1 GB would "only" store ten albums or so).
- After discovering that packaged hot cocoa mix contains partially hydrogenated soybean oil (which sticks in your arteries for about seven years), I made my own hot chocolate mix: a cup of powdered milk, a third of a cup of sugar, three tablespoons of cocoa, and a dash of salt (makes three servings). I plan to take it to work tomorrow and try it out there. I think I should add some vanilla flavoring, but all I have is liquid vanilla extract. Any idea where I could find some powdered vanilla?
- Wrote 370 words of my short story "The Old Man," which finishes it. Or, at least, ends the story. It still needs revision, which I suspect will be severe. Perhaps I'll follow Neil Gaiman's advice and literally put the story in a drawer for a week or so.
- Assembled a list of cookies and ingredients for my yearly Christmas Cookie ritual. I plan to make up to ten different kinds of cookies this year, especially if I can devote pretty much all of Saturday to making most of them.
For the past few days, I've been testing a new format for this journal: a bulleted list of my accomplishments for the day. It pushes me to think of my days in terms of accomplishments, which I think is beneficial. It's also easy to do.
I write these entries at night as I go to bed, which means I don't post them until the next day. So, you'll be seeing yesterday's entries for as long as I use this format.
Accomplishments for today:
- I finished all of the documents that need my attention at work. I still have some more work to do, but I'm essentially done with my main project. This is a major turning point, and I'm quite relieved. Hmmm. Perhaps I should celebrate by going out somewhere.
- Because I'm getting tired of eating turkey, I made a quick turkey soup/stew for dinner. I simply boiled some water, then shredded turkey by hand and added that, and added some baby carrots. I added basil, thyme, salt, and pepper, and let it simmer for about 45 minutes. It would have benefitted from more simmering and less pepper, but it tasted good, and was a welcome change of pace. It's a good example of how cooking can be easy.
- Watched episode 23 of .Hack//Sign, which continues to be excellent. It's nice to see Tsukasa follow essentially the same path that Shinji Ikari should have followed in Neon Genesis Evangelion. While Shinji just repeated the same mistakes over and over, Tsukasa is changing and growing.
- Assembled a 1/144-scale model Zaku II. This is a giant robot from the Gundam universe; I bought one to complement two other Gundam models I bought. Unfortunately, the Zaku II model turns out to be at a smaller scale than the other models, so it looks completely wrong when posed with the other models. That's frustrating, but I am heartened to discover that it only took me an hour to assemble it.
- Wrote four hundred more words of "The Old Man," which is getting closer to a climax. I'm already 1,600 words in, though, which worries me a bit. I want this to be a short story.
- Reviewed my finances, paid a few bills, and worked out a schedule for paying some others. I've realized recently that I value stable finances. I don't like to juggle bill payments. So, now I'm looking for ways to make more money, and better manage the money I have.
- Reviewed Japanese.
- Reviewed my master mind map (more on that below), and assembled a preliminary list of my core values:
- Teaching others
- Learning
- Creativity
- Spirituality
- Security
- Financial security
My "master mind map" comes from an exercise in Leonard Gelb's How To Think Like Leonardo Da Vinci. It's a tool to help a person figure out who they are, and who they want to be.
You start by drawing a little insignia for yourself in the center of a blank piece of paper. Then, you think of parts of your life that are important to you—your job, your hobbies, etc.—and write down a word for each of those, emanating out from your insignia. Look, here's what I drew:
Later, you return and redraw this map, adding more words if you've thought of new things to add. Then you look at each of those words and think of ways to achieve them, and draw more words on the page to flesh out the mind map. Here's what I got:
The next step is to review this map to notice patterns, as I did last night. I noticed that several of my goals—writing, Otherspace Productions, drawing, and even cooking—are all manifestations of a desire to show others what I've learned. That's why "Teaching others" is on the top of my list of core values.
Accomplishments for Saturday, November 27, 2004:
- Ran in the morning. Man, am I out of shape; I walked half the time because I was so out of breath. On the other hand, that should improve within a week or two if I keep running every morning.
- I haven't uploaded any photos for nearly a year, but I finally got around to uploading four of the ones I've taken since then: Beware of Dog, Sunset at Work, Blue Sunset at Work, Red Sunset at Work, and Laputa Cloud.
- Hosted another Guy's Night Out, which was a blast. We watched Godzilla vs. Mothra, the MST3K episode "Space Mutiny," the first episode of Macross Plus, and the Cowboy Bebop episode "Ballad of Fallen Angels." Everyone seemed to have a great time, which of course was the point. One of the adults made milkshakes, which was a special treat beyond our standard fare of burgers and hot dogs and chips.
The adult who made the milkshakes stayed late and showed me most of Starship Troopers 2, a rather execrable movie. Phil Tippett (legendary special effects man) directed it, and predictably, the special effects sequences are excellent but that's about it. The entire thing was apparently shot with a handheld camcorder; the quality was low and the shots bounced around a lot. This made for an odd juxtaposition with the breathtaking shots of attacking Bugs.
On the other hand, it was an undeniably fun flick, even though part of the fun came from pointing out the stupidity of the characters and the convenience of certain plot devices.
Accomplishments for Sunday, November 28, 2004:
- After my morning run, I went to Leesburg Baptist Church, where the pastor gave an outstanding sermon. It was really two sermons in one; he began with a freeform talk about how important it is for us all to just stop and listen. Not to each other; to ourselves and to God. "Be still and know that I am God." In the second half of the sermon, he spoke about angels, and listed the ways in which angels speak in the Bible: They give messages of joy, they encourage, and they warn. I'm doing the sermon an injustice with this summary.
- Proofed another chunk of the novel I'm proofreading. I got up to page 102, which is the point at which I promised the author to send what I had so far. That's a good feeling. I still have another two hundred pages to proof, though.
- Tried to plant bulbs in my garden, but the ground is soaked after all the rain we've been having. The area I'm planting in is waterlogged, anyway. So instead, I trimmed some shrubs and raked the lawn, which is standard autumn garden maintenance.
- Made potato chips and fried turkey for dinner, during which I watched episodes 21 and 22 of .Hack//Sign. The story is definitely building up to a big conclusion, and wonderfully, it's all character-driven. What a rarity, and I'm thankful for it.
- Hopped online and uploaded the rest of the photos that have been sitting on my hard drive for almost a year: Dragon Trail at Sunset, Melted Gold Sunset, Paintbrush Sunset, The Grotto, Leaf Wallpaper, Leafy Bower, and Overshadowed House. I also found an Asian block print that I plan to paint on the wall of my downstairs bathroom (the entire room will have an Asian theme).
- Worked a little on my current short story, "The Old Man," but it's just not coming. The characters just aren't speaking to me; maybe I need to journal about them a bit.
- Replaced the air filter for my heating system.
I have a girl interested in renting my spare bedroom. That's exciting, if a little scary. I've never really lived with anyone before, so I don't know exactly what to expect. I think I could live with pretty much anyone, but I fear that my ignorance is feeding me a too-narrow definition of "anyone."
Accomplishments for November 26, 2004:
- During lunch at work, I met my parents at a local mall, then did some Christmas shopping. I now either have gifts or know exactly what I'll get for most of the people on my Christmas list.
- Found out how a toilet works, so I can figure out why my bathroom toilet doesn't always flush completely. Discovered that the flush valve closes completely as soon as the lever is released, and there's no other way to get water into the bowl. I think I'm still missing some piece of the puzzle, but for now I know that I need to keep the lever depressed for a few seconds, to let the tank drain.
- Wrote another 180 words of "The Old Man".
- Began work on my Christmas writing project, in which I write one-page tributes to various friends and family, to be given to them with their Christmas presents. I've wanted to make gifts for those close to me, but I have very little in the way of handcrafting skills. However, I can write, so I figure I can use that skill to create something unique for people.
- Went through my complete strength training regimen, except for my sit-up.
In other news, I made a pleasant discovery Thanksgiving morning. After putting the turkey in the oven, I took a long walk around the neighborhood. A rainstorm had just blown through, so the clouds were scudding across the sky like leaves in a river. I walked down to the end of my street and discovered a grassy hill, the perfect sort of hill for climbing. I ran up it and, from the top, I could see the whole world, just like Hazel and Blackberry in Watership Down.
Accomplishments for November 24, 2004:
- Awoke at 7:00 a.m. and, after an Instant Breakfast, walked and jogged briefly (about ten minutes). There was my exercise for the day. I also did some basic strength training with my isometric exercise device.
- At work, completed five formal action items. This is much less work than I'd like to have done, though I'm partly limited by a lack of other things to do.
- Wrote about 150 words of The Old Man, a Hallowe'en story about an old man and a young boy who are both lonely, and find temporary solace in each others' company. I think.
- Painted my upstairs closet door a section of wall in my upstairs bathroom. This completes painting of the upstairs bathroom. The closet door will need a third coat of paint.
- Read the last third of 1 Corinthians. It's remarkable how often I've been mis-taught this book. It's all about grace and getting along!
- Baked a pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving, as well as a batch of biscotti for tea. I also noticed a recipe for essentially cinnamon rolls in one cookbook; I might be able to make those for Saturday mornings instead of relying on Pillsbury. I also prepared the bread crumbs for the stuffing tomorrow, and noticed that I have no celery. Hmmm. Will the stuffing be okay without celery? Too late to buy any more.
- Reviewed my primary Japanese language book for a few minutes while waiting for the biscotti to bake. I'd like to spend a bit of time learning Japanese most days in the immediate future.
- Reviewed Don't Just Do What I Tell You! Do What Needs To Be Done, a business book with a lot of good advice. The advice is in the form of platitudes, but they're true platitudes which I would do well to follow despite their banality.
- While unable to go to sleep, I wrote one page of a Welcome document for new Otherspace Productions employees. I've found that I can't remember to tell each new employee everything that needs to be said. Hopefully, this Welcome document can introduce our values and culture clearly.
I couldn't get to sleep on time; I think I was too distracted by my Thanksgiving preparations. I've never done it before, and I get nervous whenever I do something for the first time, especially when I'll be doing it for an audience.
Chris asks: "If one does not have self confidence, how does one get self confidence?"
That's an excellent question. Fortunately, self-confidence is not a Boolean attribute. One can gain a little self-confidence, then more, then more.
I know of two consistent solutions. The first is to start out by faking it. Pretend that you have self-confidence, and people will respond to that with respect. That can give you self-confidence.
Secondly, self-confidence can come from those around us. If you surround yourself with caring, nurturing people, they will give you self-confidence.
And now, more VR story:
Thomas allowed himself to straighten out, planted his left foot, and—barely noticing the sparks and shrapnel flying from the gunfire landing on either side of the store—pitched his triangular missile directly at Grey Hackle with a throw that would have made any pro baseball pitcher proud.
Grey Hackle's brain registered the bit of shelving half a second before it hit him in the stomach, which gave his arms just enough time to swing slightly inwards. Then it hit, and his body doubled over as his fingers clamped reflexively on the triggers of both guns, so that the pavement around him exploded in a Roman Candle of bullets. Kino and Karl dove away and scurried into a nearby alley, then Grey Hackle's body slumped and the guns went silent.
Adrenaline seared Thomas' veins as he drew in ragged breaths. Beads of sweat popped out all over him. He was staring straight at the huge trench coat-covered lump of Grey Hackle, as though boring a hole into him. He couldn’t quite believe that it was already over. He looked down at Doodlehopper.
She was still crouching on the floor, though now she was staring up at him with wide eyes, in total shock. For some reason, this annoyed him.
Suddenly she lept forward, past him, down the aisle, put one foot against a case and launched herself out of the store, now running with feline grace towards Grey Hackle, her eyes darting about as she zoned in on the dark alley and ran into it.
Kino uncurled from his fetal position and looked up just in time to see a lithe body overshadow him and the distinctive form of a tazer loomed towards him. He had just enough time to groan "Not agai—" before his body convulsed and he blacked out.
Interesting. Freehaven Station is a fun web-based RPG. I think there's real potential here. Sign up and you get plenty of free time to play.
And it has a neat subscription mechanism: You start off with 100 free "turns", which in this game refers to significant player actions. You can explore the environment forever without using a turn, but if you want to take an action that pushes you forward in the game (such as entering combat or healing yourself), you have to pay a turn. You can buy another 100 turns for 50 cents using BitPass.
A low comforter of grey clouds hangs over my townhouse right now. The trees are mostly naked and the lawns are turning that pale wintery color. It actually looks like snow weather, though a quick trip outside reveals temperatures in the 50's.
But it's beginning to feel like Christmas. There's one local radio station that switches over to 24-hour Christmas music for the entire season every year, and they've made the switch. The malls are completely decorated with Christmas lights and ribbons.
Oddly, I like it. I usually prefer to focus on Christmas for the last few weeks of December, but this year I want Christmas to start now. I want an early dose of cheer.
I suspect this is because of my two-month illness. It happens every autumn: I contract an ongoing, very mild cold for several months, punctuated with full-blown illnesses every few weeks. Which reminds me: I need more soup.
One of those punctuations occurred yesterday; I woke up with a sore throat and no energy whatsoever, so I spent the day doing laundry and napping and watching Russian animation (I look forward to writing more about that soon).
So today, I'm only at work for a few hours so I can take care of a few comparatively urgent matters. I want to go home and spend the evening curled up under soft blankets.
Brilliant: "Studios Sue Pixar, Demand Bad Movie". "The complaint alleges that with its sixth consecutive profitable and critically acclaimed film in 'The Incredibles,' Pixar is overturning a decades-long public relations campaign waged by Hollywood studios to convince the public that it's impossible to consistently make high quality films. 'If Pixar doesn't get with the program, we're going to have to fundamentally change the way we do business,' groused Paramount chairwoman Sherry Lansing, whose studio hasn't produced a hit film in several years. 'I repeat my recommendation to Steve Jobs that he pay John Travolta and Halle Berry $20 million each to provide voices for an effects-laden remake of ‘The Fox and the Hound.''"
Heh. The Twelve Stages of Macintosh Software Development.
Also, Websnark writes a cogent analysis of the failure of a comc strip, in "You had me, and you lost me: General Protection Fault". Fascinating.
I've had a long, tough week thus far. As I mentioned yesterday, I went through my finances on Monday night and discovered that I'm completely tapped out. I didn't know how I was going to pay for groceries until my next paycheck, though my parents generously helped out with that.
It pushed me into depression, though, knowing that I've bungled my finances so seriously. It's because of the new townhouse: I didn't realize how much I'd have to pay in closing costs, and I didn't count on all the end-of-the-year taxes that I had to pay in the last few weeks. I also didn't realize I'd be paying so much in utilities.
So, after climbing into bed and staring at the ceiling for awhile, I made a few resolutions: (1) I'm going to finish my current proofreading job, so I can get that money, and (2) I'm going to finish renovating the other bedroom in my townhouse and rent it as soon as possible. That will help my financial situation tremendously. I hope.
Maybe then I can start paying down my ridiculously high Visa bill.....
It's been a baaad couple of days. My finances are the worst they've ever been. I was mentally exhausted Monday and Tuesday. Basically, I've wanted to crawl under the bed covers and not come out for the next few months.
Depression kinda sucks. Well, by definition.
Now, more VR story:
Grey Hackle made another step and shouted, "Nobody's going to save you now!"
Thomas looked at Doodlehopper, examining her like a clue. Her body was taut, her eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Her face betrayed more than that; she was uncertain and she was afraid.
Thomas acted. He rolled to his feet and grabbed a piece of shelving in each hand.
Grey Hackle heard a scuffling near the center of the store and, a cold light appearing in his eyes, he swung his guns inward, his mind working at an unconscious level trained over decades of hunting men.
Thomas spun with every molecule of grace that he could pull out of his hunched, aging body and flung one shattered hunk of metal to his right.
Something clanged to Grey Hackle’s left, and without even thinking his left arm swung towards it and his left index finger squeezed its trigger.
Thomas pushed his body further into the spin, releasing the other hunk of metal to spin in the opposite direction towards a mostly intact glass case as he scooped up another piece of shelving—this one flat and triangular—in his right hand.
Grey Hackle heard glass smash to his right, and his right arm obediently swung in that direction and began firing.
And tanjit, why didn't somebody tell me there's a gorgeous, manga-style web doujinshi of The Powerpuff Girls with cameos and characters from just about every Cartoon Network show? And is actually dramatic?
2:48 p.m.
Brennen writes that he asked himself a simple question several months ago: "justify yourself."
I'm going to take this as a general discussion point, making clear at the outset that I'm not talking about Brennen.
I find that the idea of justifying onesself often comes from a pernicious devaluation of the human in our culture. Heck, my favorite book of all time, Dune, suggests that there are many homo sapiens who are not truly human, who do not match the standards we have set up for what makes a human. There is a certain truth to this, though I accept it in the sense that we have created very high standards for humanity in general, and few humans can actually achieve them.
But I think that generally, nobody has to justify themselves. What, exactly, are we justifying ourselves against? I think people are worthwhile simply by being who they are.
No, spammers, I do not want a Rolex watch.
It's been a long week. I was out every evening last week for a group meeting of some sort—writing group or book club or some such—with a "break" on Thursday to paint my townhouse. On Saturday, I helped my parents move my grandmother's stuff into her assisted living apartment. On Sunday, I spent six hours with my animators, working on Matrix Experiments Lain.
I even forgot to post more of the VR story last week, for which I feel bad. It's at a fun place, too.
But fortunately, this week should be relatively quiet, so I can finish some of my projects and generally relax. I need a lot of relaxation time.
Why are they trying to make the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory look like A Clockwork Orange? And why does the new Mozilla Thunderbird icon look like an anime haircut?
Anyvay. I had a long weekend, which started with a busy Saturday. My Dad is filling his retirement with home improvement jobs—wiring, putting up walls, etc.—and asked me to help him put together a lattice screen Saturday (for pay). We had a good time; Dad knows what he's doing, so it was just a matter of handing him a board here or holding something in place.
That evening, I went to the birthday party of a kid whose family I know well. We played a Godzilla game and ran around with water pistols shooting each other and ate cake and just generally did Birthday Things.
So Sunday, I came down with a cold. Spent Sunday and Monday at home. I did manage to watch some anime, though: Paranoia Agent (brilliant at a level very little anime reaches), Gundam SEED (fun and interesting), and Tenchi GXP (rather brainless but good entertainment). I also watched the first half of Lawrence of Arabia, which is an odd experience after reading his diary. It just didn't happen like that.
I'm back at work today, and back to something close to normal, though I'm still fairly tired. Writing group tonight, then back home to (hopefully) relax.
I've been relaxing a lot lately. Not pushing myself to work so much in the evenings. It's been surprisingly good. I want to finish up several projects that I'd promised others, now, so that I don't have to do them anymore.
I want free time, frankly, and I think I have to fight for it.
Now, more VR story:
Thomas' eyes snapped open. He was curled up in a pool of sticky liquid, in an aisle between two relatively sturdy shelves—both were only half annihilated, and offered about four feet of ragged cover above them. Doodlehopper crouched next to the remains of the opposite shelf, her arms outstretched and her hands flat against the floor, looking just like Julie Newmar. Her eyes were focused inwards, every other sense straining to detect their adversaries.
Thomas twitched, catching Doodlehopper's eye. He mouthed, "Is he crazy?" Doodlehopper made an impatient motion with one hand and looked away.
They could hear the crunch of glass beneath boot, and both stopped breathing. Outside, Grey Hackle advanced further, his grin widening into a skull's permanent rictus.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he shouted, stepping up onto the curb. "I'll find you soon enough. Why not be a man and at least show yourself before you die?"
Thomas' jaw set. This was not the first man to threaten him. VR was full of immature script kiddies who taunted improbable destruction at the slightest hint of provocation, but there were other, more dangerous breeds who could erase your existence—or at least make it very difficult to use your credit accounts.
Thomas had never had a hero. Even when he was a kid, he'd been in his share of fights and been threatened by his share of bullies. Nobody had ever stood up for him. He always did that himself. He could be immature, lazy, picky, quick to anger, and just generally a jerk. But he had always stood up to bullies.
I hate unproductive weeknights, and I'm beginning to think that my hate is wrong.
I crave productivity. I feel bad if I'm not making something all the time; say, keeping the house clean (thus making it look good), or updating a website, or at least reading a new book. Something. But as I think about it, I wonder whether that obssession is really healthy. Yes, productivity is generally good. I'm beginning to think that my need for productivity is mostly an internal drive to prove myself useful, though.
This may be partly due to last night. My stomach whined and complained all evening, making me so ill that I curled up in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and three Calvin & Hobbes collections. I read strip after strip of the two heroes laying out in the woods, as they enjoyed simply doing nothing. I wondered: Why don't I do that any more? Why do I sign up to do so many things? Even when I don't have things to do, I make up things to do. Why not just be?
Y'know, I wasn't going to vote for Kerry, but I saw someone out on a street corner waving a sign. Seeing somebody out waving a sign completely convinced me to vote for that person's candidate.
</sarcasm>
(For future generations who don't understand this: The 2004 American Presidential elections were unusual in that, for the first time in many years, a lot of people hung out on street corners waving signs in support of their candidate.)
I did very little today. Basically just took care of a few things online, and watched Hong Kong film and Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence.
I didn't like Innocence much, though that's mostly due to my love of the original characters from the manga, and the movie characters deviate very far from those in the manga. And I know that the director intended to deviate. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop comparing the movie characters to the manga characters, and the movie characters just weren't as interesting.
But that's part of the point of the movie, which is about humans and dolls. It's similar to the emotionally lifeless acting in 2001 which contrasts with the relatively human HAL; the humans in Ghost in the Shell seem more doll-like than the androids and dolls that have been created to reflect humanity.
But frankly, emotionless acting makes for pretty dull cinema. Combine this with a lot of visually pretty animation that frankly does nothing to push the story forward, such as the amazing parade that the protagonists pass by, and the movie turned into a series of yawns.
Now, that can be offset by good intellectual content, which Innocence does provide, but there's not enough of it. The main problem is that the movie doesn't provide a consistent argument; characters spout bits of moral philosophy and one-liners comparing humans to dolls, but we don't get a sense of progression or even much sense to any of it. Yes, there are many ways one can compare and contrast humans and life-like dolls, but so what?
Japanese is incredibly difficult to learn.
The main problem is that it's so completely alien. I took French for three years, and at least French is structured similar to English. Japanese is wildly different; the words are arranged in patterns that continue to confound me.
Which means that it can't be approached like a typical learning experience.
What do I mean by that? Well, most educational programs try to teach you by relating their subjects to things you know. Things are presented as extensions ("Calculus builds on trigonometry and algebra by...") or comparisons (my Calculus textbook states, "My educational philosophy was strongly influenced by attending the lectures of [two professors who] consistently introduced a topic by relating it to something concrete or familiar." — James Stewart, Calculus: Early Transcendentals, Third Edition). It's assumed you'll be able to build on your current knowledge.
But Japanese isn't like that. It doesn't build on any language I know, and it's not like any language or communication system I know (though I do detect the faint odor of a programming language). I can't relate it to my current knowledge.
The solution I've found is repetition. I don't worry about learning each lesson when I read it, but I read it again and again over the course of a week or so. The lesson sinks in on its own.
I've discovered that my comprehension of Japanese has increased dramatically since I've taken this approach to learning it. I pick out those Japanese words that I've read in recent lessons while watching anime in Japanese. It appears to be working.
Of course, the real test will come about four months from now, when I've reached the end of my Japanese language book (assuming I maintain my current pace). How much Japanese will I know then?
And now, more VR story.
Trouble was, Doodlehopper was in way over her head. She just knew what her Mum would say if she were here. "Why'd I have to raise a daughter who risks her life and limb to earn a dollar? Are you a hooker now? Selling your body for a few measly bucks?" All rational explanations were useless.
But no, she said to herself, she wasn't going to think about Mum right now. Too many other things. Like this damn stupid Thomas. She'd met some pretty thick guys in her time—had dated a few—but Thomas took top prize. Strutting around like he was suddenly Sherlock bleeping Holmes. She was glad to be rid of him. And back to less dangerous jobs.
Which was just when she noticed two very large men in trench coats standing on a street corner, their attempts to blend in to their surroundings making them stick out like an Uzi in a garden. She slowed, and cursed herself for not seeing them more quickly. She was way too distracted.
She had no trouble recognizing the two thugs. Her hands reached into her jacket automatically, but stopped halfway to the smooth handles of the tazers. The thugs were facing her, their hands were empty and outside their pockets, and they looked...hangdog. Like they wanted to apologize.
She approached them with the caution of two junkyard dogs meeting for the first time. They didn't move until she stopped moving, about twenty feet from them. One of them opened his mouth.
"We're sorry we tried to hurt you."
Doodlehopper didn't exactly decide to stay still; she was too shocked to do anything else.
"We were just following orders. Nothing personal."
She remained still, wondering if she was being taped for some TV joke show.
"Will you forgive us?"
This was the enemy. She may have been young, but Doodlehopper had been trained hard and well. This was the enemy, waving a flag of truce, and history showed that many times this was the most dangerous thing for an enemy to do. But...well...she tried to think of a reason not to accept their apology, and couldn't think of a thing.
"Okay," she said, trying to sound cool.
Both massive men visibly relaxed, the speaker especially. "I'm really, really glad you said that," he said. "Because, uh, we kind of have a problem."
It was the third most awkward cup of coffee Doodlehopper had ever had. The first was the one where her mother had suddenly asked if she was a virgin. The second was with a boyfriend who was not only eyeing every other girl in the place, but also commenting on how good they'd be in the sack. This one, sitting in front of two men who were acting like little kids in the Principal's office, wasn't nearly as bad. But the hairs on the back of her neck refused to go down. Her mind was screaming that these were enemies, not to be trusted, and what was she doing sitting here carefully sipping a bad cup of coffee listening to them?
Who was it who wrote that the secret of happiness lies not in having more but wanting less? It's so true.
I've been applying that principle to my daily dissatisfaction with my accomplishments. I tend to be frustrated with how little I get done despite the number of hours in my days. After thinking about this for awhile, I realized that I don't define my goals well, and when I do define my goals, if I accomplish them I just add more goals. So I'm never satisfied.
So, I've begun to write a little map of my daily goals, either the night before or the morning of each day. Once I leave for work, I don't add to that map. I've determined that, if I accomplish everything on my map, I'll be content with my day.
And I accomplished everything on my map today: I went to the bank, I got groceries, and I proofed another 25 pages of my big proofing job (I'm now halfway through the book!). So I'm content.
I also watched disc 3 of Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex, which is some of the best anime I've ever seen. Every episode was movie-quality. I was amazed, especially after the so-so first volume and merely good second disc.
It was interesting to see an episode that centered on a truly despicable act of psychological terrorism perpetrated by...Americans. I mean, the series went out of its way to make this as sick and twisted as possible, and approved by the U.S. military and government. It's the sort of thing that goes way beyond Abu Ghraib and even most of the Nazis' atrocities. Heck, I'd feel queasy about attributing it to any country or culture; it's a heck of a thing to suggest that a government might conceivably condone something like this.
Saalon writes:But how, exactly, do you write the first sentence?
Something feels so arbitrary about it. It's important. Vital to people continuing to read the entire novel. Yet every decision you make this early in the game smacks of guesswork. By the middle of the story, you've necessitated certain things occuring in certain ways. Your options are narrower. Choices can be weighed on the merits of how the interlock with the other things in the story. You've got context. At the beginning, you have none of that. You're guessing what you think you'll need for where you think you're going. How do you feel confident about a choice like that?
Yeah, you can go back. Yeah you can always change things. It's just that the idea of your first step being "Write throwaway first chapter which you will later scrap and rewrite specifically so you'll know you have to throw out said chapter and rewrite it," is kind of upsetting.
Saalon's suggesting a false dichotomy here: Either you write the perfect first sentence, or you write something that you know you'll scrap later. It's rarely that extreme.
Yes, it is guesswork. But it's the guesswork of an archaeologist. You come up with something that feels good to you, and you write it. Later on, you return and improve it. You may need to change a word here or a phrase there, and you may even need to rewrite a paragraph or a few pages, but at least you have something to work with.
I had intended to wake at 7:00 this morning, so that I could exercise and generally prepare well for the holiday. However, my recent troubles with my boss haunted me last night and kept me awake. When my alarm played "All the Way" at 7:00, I switched it off and slept for another three hours. Of course, my body undoubtedly needed it.
So I finally drove up my parents' driveway at about 11:30, carrying a platter mounded high with homemade Christmas cookies, gaily-colored presents, and a bag of overnight supplies. We then spent the afternoon enjoying martial arts flicks, from Shaolin Soccer to Jackie Chan documentaries. Mom dubbed it Kung Fu Christmas. And it was good.
One of our Christmas traditions is the opening of one present per person on Christmas Eve. We (it was just my parents and I) opened gifts from my aunt, who got us all excellent gifts. Mine was a home improvement book full of color pictures and explanations. Great choice.
Heh. I wrote on Sunday about my bout of nausea, and my suspicion that I was having an allergic reaction to milk. It turns out that I was just getting sick; I spent Monday and Tuesday quite ill.
I got back to work on Wednesday and had an incredibly bad day. I had a very unpleasant set of meetings with my boss, who basically wants nothing to do with me, rejecting all my attempts to connect with him. I was quite completely depressed Wednesday night, as you can no doubt imagine.
He had some worthwhile criticisms of my current job, though, so I've been thinking about how to improve myself there.
I returned to work on Thursday to the realization that I can do very little about this, as my entire floor is being renovated this week and the next. I knew this would happen, but I didn't connect it with my present predicament until I arrived at work in the morning and tried to make some inroads. I'll do the best I can, but that was frustrating.
I feel better now, though. It's been a very rough 36 hours, but thanks to a few answered prayers, I know I'll be able to get through this.
Now I'm simply looking forward to a visit with my parents; I'll be staying with them Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. At least I can completely chill out there. I'm lucky that ways.
On a side note, I took advantage of my illness to finish the entire Witch Hunter Robin, which I intend to review here soon. My overall reaction is a thumbs-up.
Today did not go according to plan.
I woke up a little late, so I had to miss Sunday School and went straight to church. I heard another great sermon, which I won't bore you with here. I got home and had some more of that amazing tart I made yesterday, along with a big glass of milk. Wonderful.
I then sat down and worked on taxes for Otherspace Productions, and made more progress than I thought I would. I think I have it well in hand now. It's actually not hard.
But then I got very tired and rather nauseous. I lay on my window seat for a while, then popped in some Mystery Science Theater 3000, and some more Mystery Science Theater 3000, and NausicaŠ of the Valley of Wind (will you think less of me when I admit that I teared up at the end?), and I suddenly made a connection (not between MST3K and NausicaŠ!).
For a long time, my Mom's suspected that I have a milk allergy. I tested this by swearing off milk for awhile, and didn't notice any particular change in my energy level or life. Nevertheless, today, a couple of hours after that big glass of milk, I felt nauseous, and it lasted for several more hours after that. I ate the same thing I ate yesterday, and yesterday I didn't feel nauseous.
While I lived at my old apartment in McLean, I had a lot of evenings when I'd come home, make dinner, then feel mildly nauseous and just generally blah all evening, and I'd end up watching MST3K as a comfort. And now I remember that I'd often have a big glass of milk with those dinners. A connection? I can't be sure, of course, but it seems likely.
I think I'm going to swear off milk for awhile, and see if this nausea re-surfaces.
Anyvay. After that, I returned to my "Old Man" short story (the one about the witch), but I just can't seem to end it. I need to get some reactions from my writing groups, but none of them will be meeting for at least a few weeks. Arg.
Accomplishments, in list form to encourage brevity:
Today was a day in which I had many plans, all of which were thwarted by good works.
I forgot that I promised a co-worker that I'd help her move a desk this evening. That was no problem; we hauled the desk into my truck, then chatted pleasantly in the truck as we moved it, and I ended up only spending less than an hour or so moving it.
I got home and microwaved some more of my homemade potato soup, then finished updating Matrix Experiments Lain, at which point I checked my messages and got a message from my Dad which...wow.
Suffice to say that my grandmother is being extremely difficult and has put my Mom in a bad position. So I called my Mom and spent about an hour getting the full story from her. Which was a good thing.
But at that point, I didn't want to do much of anything, so I ended up doing nothing and just went to bed. So the laundry list of Stuff To Do was pushed back yet another night.
:sigh: But I can't complain, because Matrix Experiments Lain is almost done and it felt incredibly good to realize that this thing that came out of my head is being birthed and it's even cooler than I imagined it. Pursuing your dreams? WORTH IT.
Now, here's more VR story. Doodlehopper's speaking:
"You know, when I got into this racket, somebody gave me some advice. He said, 'Honey, sometimes you'll work with jerks. And when you do, remember this: Just like they can fire you, you can fire them.'"
She let this sink in, and his eyes widened slightly.
"Now that you're so satisfied with yourself that you can pull a trick," she continued, "it looks like you won't be needing me anymore, now will you? 'Cause that's sure how you're acting."
And with that, she stalked over to the door, yanked it open, walked through, and slammed it shut behind her. He heard her receding voice yell, "You're not worth it!"
Well, thought Thomas, that certainly changed things.
He cast his eyes to the dull ceiling and began thinking about his options. Things seemed increasingly bleak as he ticked off possibilities. He couldn't go back to his apartment. He couldn't go back to Safe House. The cops were surely combing through the shattered convenience store by now, and he and Doodlehopper had certainly spent enough time standing in the aisles for the clerk to remember them. Thomas felt a flash of guilt at the cold shoulder he'd literally turned towards the girl, but that was quickly subsumed with a stronger flush of anger at her treatment of him, sneaking into VR and following him around VR like a spy.
He suddenly wondered just how she'd done that. It was difficult to track somebody on VR, especially when they're hopping from world to world like he'd been. A small corner of his mind murmured admiration, but his indignance drowned it out.
He deduced that the teen guiding Thomas in had probably helped her, attaching some sort of tracer to his session when setting it up then handing the output to her. Thomas mused that, for all he knew, she had charmed the boy into doing her a favor.
That same corner of his mind that was impressed with Doodlehopper now began to gnaw at him. Was it really right of him to dismiss her like this, so casually? Hadn't she saved his life? She'd been paid to do that, he countered. Even so, she'd been a genuine help to him, and a good friend. Had he ever had a better friend?
He pushed that thought away. He'd never had any close friends in the physical world. He'd never made friends easily growing up, and once he'd begun VR diving for hours every day in junior high, he'd spent too much time in VR to be able to make friends. He'd chosen his life, and he was comfortable with it, he told himself.
But was he? Hadn't he always been a bit disappointed with his lack of deep physical connection? If he was so comfortable, where was this disappointment coming from?
He opened his eyes, and stared up at the bland beige ceiling, and missed Doodlehopper. Sadness swept over him in a wave far larger than he had suspected possible, and he curled over in the bed as if to avoid it. He was alone, but worse, he was isolated, like a thick invisible wall surrounded him and blocked out the rest of the world.
And, suddenly, he was so very sick of being alone.
Doodlehopper strode down the street like a battleship at full speed. She had her hands jammed into her jacket pockets and barely noticed the streets as she carved a path through the fog and grime of the city. She was frustrated, she was angry, and though she didn't want to admit it to herself, she was exhausted nearly to the point of physical breakdown.
Two writing groups in two days! Now if only I had some fiction to write.
Honestly, I do have some fiction to write. I just need to extract some stories from my big fantasy world. And that's hard.
See, it's not enough to have a big story idea. Stories live and die by the depth of the reader's connection to the characters. If the reader cares about the characters, you can lead them through just about any plot. If the reader doesn't care, you're sunk.
So, how to make the reader care about the characters? The characters must be working on their own issues. Great literature almost invariably deals with characters that change, or at least characters that interact in interesting ways. The only way to do that is by having interesting characters, and putting them in interesting situations. To paraphrase someone in tonight's writing group, "It's okay to write a slice-of-life story, if you have the right slice."
And this is why it's difficult to write fiction. Many newbie writers have neat plot ideas. That's good, but a good story idea doesn't make a good story. You have to have interesting characters that are on their own emotional journeys to give flesh to that neat plot idea.
An example: A friend of mine is writing a story that upends a fantasy cliche. In her story, the grand prophecy of saving the world—which the characters naturally fulfill—was actually written down wrong by the bard to whom it was told. The steps they completed unleashes the doom of the world, not the savior of the world.
Neat idea. But my friend is struggling because the story doesn't go anywhere; it has no life. Why? Her characters aren't compelling enough to drive the story to that neat idea. She can think up stuff that happens to her characters, but that stuff manifests as bland obstacles. Since the characters aren't changing and aren't deeply affected by the events of the story, the reader doesn't care much about them, so the story meanders and flounders.
The solution is difficult, and requires a lot of hard thought. But it is necessary. Even stories that don't feature significant character development or emotional involvement by the characters—such as high-end space opera or hard-boiled detective fiction—involve characters who are deeply committed to their actions, and we appreciate them because of the strength of their convictions.
Monday was a clear, cold day, that reminds me of Russian novels. The wind could cut through solid oak. You step outside for a few minutes and you begin to realize that you simply couldn't survive this if exposed to it for a couple of hours. It's as if Jack Frost taps your shoulder and whispers poems about your mortality.
Monday's was a reasonably productive meeting; nothing of mine being critiqued, and the three excerpts we were reviewing I had either already provided my comments on or had been unable to read before the group met. I did get into a somewhat passionate argument with our resident curmudgeon, and I regret getting upset over it. I dislike hostility over writing, and I felt myself getting hostile over his persistent negativity towards the novel's protagonist.
In particular, the critiquer disliked how the protagonist takes no action until about fifty pages into the book, and explained that the protagonist needed to drive the story forward. I disagreed, pointing out books like Catch-22 in which the protagonist does very little to direct the plot. And I started to get flustered. Fortunately, the moderator pointed out a few things which gave us the space to cool off.
But I began to lose control there, and I still don't know why. Maybe I was fed up with the critiquer's behavior—and he's been doing this since I first attended the group about six months ago. Maybe I was being maternalistic towards this novel that I really am enjoying. Maybe it was just the culmination of a very, very busy week.
But it was definitely not cool.
Here's what I'm listening to right now, thanks to Toon Radio:
(Rainbow and Patty)Together forever the road never ends,
The first part of friendship is friends.
(Rainbow)
Where would I be with out you as my friend?
(Patty)
And what could I do without you?
(Rainbow and Patty)
Together forever the road never ends,
The first part of friendship is friends.
(Fades)
Clippity, Clappity, Cally, Calloo,
The best part of friendship is you.
The funny thing about it is that it's at least as insipid as most of the J-Pop I listen to; I just understand these words.
Anyvay. Been a very, VERY busy weekend. My attempt at potato soup on Saturday resulted in three-foot flames from a grease fire, so I had to toss my wok out onto the patio and clean the soot off the ceiling. Then I started again with a new pot and made some darned good potato soup.
Saturday night was Guy's Night Out. We watched Blade Runner, three episodes of The Critic (which none of the other three attendees had ever seen, to my delight and theirs), and the MST3K episode "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians." Lots of fun.
On Sunday, I awoke late and ran to Leesburg Baptist for an early small group lesson, which was really neat and interesting. Then, the regular service, and an amazing sermon on Little Things. Then, I was late getting to the Otherspace Productions meeting, which only one other person showed up to. Then I went to a book club meeting which nobody else showed up to. I hung around the meeting place and caught up with some folks there, then was late to my parents' house for dinner. Then I ended up staying with them until after 11:00 p.m.
So. I've had better weekends.
In other news, here's an excellent essay on essays.
Finally! More VR story! And posted on time!
Doodlehopper paced up and down the shabby motel bedroom like a general from a bad World War II movie. Thomas was sprawled back on the bed, his hands behind his head, watching her. He had a bemused expression on his face, and he really didn't know why. He was curiously detached from Doodlehopper’s anxiety. He felt relaxed, yet perfectly awake.
She glared at him. "That was crazy. Crazy in the head," she said, still pacing.
He reflected for a moment. "Yes. I suppose it was."
She glared harder. "You could have been killed."
His mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. "Yes, that was how things were going."
She didn't have an answer for that; she just paced faster, her eyes focused inwards again. Then she looked back at him, her face set and serious. “Don't ever do that again,” she said firmly.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Can't promise that. Neither of us knows what might happen next. Who else is lurking in the shadows?"
"Stop that, dammit!" she shouted, turning to face him, planting her feet. "Don't you care?"
"Yes, I care," he said, spitting out the words. "But it's my life, and I've just discovered something that I can do to defend myself. I'm not going to stop just because it gets your panties in a twist."
She snorted in frustration, then looked down, thinking. Then she looked back at him, her eyes searching him. Then her eyes hardened.
Meanwhile, Change This has a fantastic new PDF essay, How To Be Creative. It's mis-named, actually; it's more about how to live, practically, as a creative person. Tons of great advice in there.
Well, it's been a wacky couple of days.
I knew I'd have to wake up early on Monday morning, to attend the presentation of my high school friends on the book Gates of Fire. I also knew that, if I tried to sleep for only a few hours Sunday night, I'd end up sleeping right through the presentation.
So, when I was unable to go to sleep early, I stayed up all night, mainly reading the last half of Ender's Shadow. I attended the presentation and had a great time. But by 11:00 that morning, I was literally nodding off at my desk, in the middle of conversations with other people. So, I decided to go home and nap for a couple of hours.
Eight hours later, I woke up.
Ah well. I went to work Tuesday morning, apologized to everyone that I'd planned to meet with Monday afternoon, and got back to work. Had a good day at work, too, as there was a mini-crisis to occupy my time.
I snuck out during lunch hour and deposited my property tax refund into my Otherspace Productions account. I can get back to animation! Hurray! Then after work, I met with two different animators to collect their work on Matrix Experiments Lain. Man, we're getting reasonably close to finishing that.
I stopped by the grocery store on the way home and bought some reasonably healthy food—nuts, dried cranberries, frozen chicken, orange juice—then came home and pan fried a filet of tilapia (it's a kind of fish). Had that with a side of green beans, and man did I feel healthy. I finished off my meal with some dried cranberries (delicious) and honey roasted cashews (blah. I've always disliked the bland flavor of cashews, and the honey roasting didn't mask it). I find that eating healthy food significantly improves my energy level and my emotional level. I just feel more satisfied and ready to take on life if I've been eating well.
I spent the evening with my head buried in various projects: proofing a novel (someone else's; this is business), reviewing this week's Japanese lesson, skimming Kungfu Basics for some basic practice stances (Horse Stance, Bow Stance, and Cat Stance for now), and reading the final volume of the manga .hack//Legend of the Twilight, which was much more satisfying than .hack//Sign (the anime)'s ending.
I do like the fact that all of the .hack stories are about identity, but each approaches identity in a different way. //Sign asks, "What gives us identity, and what makes that identity worthwhile?" Legend of the Twilight asks, "Can we change our identity by force of will, and if so, how much and in what ways?" Shugo, the protagonist of Legend of the Twilight, wants to be a hero. Can he, just by wanting to? He certainly doesn't start out a hero. Can he force himself to become heroic? Is that truly heroism? All excellent questions, all of them explored to various degrees in the manga.
'Twas a fairly full day, which is appropriate considering the gorgeous weather. December and it's in the 60's? I'll take it.
- Went to Leesburg Baptist this morning, and heard another excellent sermon. A few choice quotes:
- "We have made antiseptic what God wants to make therapeutic."
- "God honors process."
- Went to my parents' house and hung out there for a couple of hours, then helped my Dad move some of my grandmother's furniture. We had a good time just chatting.
- Searched for a copy of Stephen Pressfield's Gates of Fire at three different book stores. At each one, their database insisted there was at least one copy on the shelves, but no copies could be found. And I need to talk about it tomorrow; who'd have thought it would be this hard to find. Oh well. I'll wing it. I did find a good book on kung fu: Kungfu Basics.
- Thoroughly cleaned the townhouse, top to bottom. I've been feeling sick off and on for the past couple of months, and while I'm sure that's due mainly to moving in to a new environment, I wanted to give my house another full-scale cleaning. I feel much better about the place now that everything's clean.
- Moved to my next Japanese lesson (#4). I find I'm learning it very well by reading the same lesson every night for a week. I don't have to concentrate as much time on it each night, and the repetition burns the words into my brain.
- Caught up with a few old online friends from the Sci-Fi Channel's chat server, who are now hanging out in a new IRC server. They asked what I've done since I left the server; I mentioned starting Otherspace, writing, and helping Saalon make Dreaming by Strobelight. The most that other folks there had done was enter college.
- Finished Orson Scott Card's Ender's Shadow, which impressed me. It's nearly as good as Ender's Game, and that's saying a heck of a lot. I'd like to write more about it, but at the moment it's 2:00 a.m. and I have other things to do.
Today was baking day. I made M&M cookies, mint chocolate chip cookies, reverse chocolate chip cookies, peanut blossoms, and spritz. In addition to the gingersnaps I made yesterday and the buckeye balls I made on Thursday, I've made seven different kinds of cookies for Christmas. And I still have three more varieties I plan to make.
Baking consumed most of my day. I did manage to watch a Russian animation of the Swan Princess story, which I enjoyed for the detailed animation and not much else (and the unintentional humor of the good witch).
Okay, let me explain that last comment. In the Russian animations I've seen, if the story is a fairy tale, there's usually a narrator. They do essentially what Jiminy Cricket did in Disney's Pinocchio. In the Swan Princess animation, the story is told by a crow who happens to be the alter-ego of a good witch in the story.
For some reason, the voice for this crow character sounds exactly like that for Doris in the animated series The Critic—an aged, Devil-may-care New Yorker with a bad case of smoker's breath, complete with hacking cough. It was amusing to see the kindly old witch talk as though she'd just taken the subway up from Queens.
Anyvay, after watching the Swan Princess, I realized how much I wanted to see some really excellent animation, so I re-re-re-re-re-watched Hayao Miyazaki's Spirited Away (which, incidentally, is not the original Japanese name, which translates roughly as Sen and Chihiro in the Land of the Gods). After luxuriating in that movie, I luxuriated in a nice hot bath. Appropriate, since Spirited Away is set in a bathhouse.
One other nice thing occurred yesterday: I received a check from the county for $800 ("Bank Error In Your Favor! Collect $800"). A phone call to them explained why; apparently, I didn't need to pay my personal property taxes. My mortgage company does that for me. So, that's $800 I can use somewhere. I think I'm going to invest it directly in Otherspace Productions, so that I can get that back up and running.
Because of my Redemption card club meeting this night, I got little done today.
Work was pretty much a wash; everyone in my group was migrated to a new version of Windows XP today. It went relatively smoothly, but there are still a number of connectivity problems.
So I came home early and made gingersnaps. I want to have something extra done before my main baking on Saturday.
Then early to the church, where I met with a group of girls to facilitate a book discussion for a school project. I also found out that I need to attend (and participate in) their presentation on Monday, at 7:15 a.m. That time frame does not fill me with joy—especially because their school is a long drive away—but I know I'll have a good time.
Only a few people came to Redemption, so we ended up watching some R.O.D. (what a great anime), then I came home and performed my strength training exercises, then went to bed.
A pretty quiet day.
Oh! Except that while I was waiting for our systems at work to come back online, I made some updates to my Wala script. I'm adding blogging features, so that the administrator—or anyone who knows the password, really—can post blog entries, which the Wala can display in regular blog fashion.
I'm doing this because I'm thinking of migrating this journal to the Wala. I'd like to be able to embed WikiWords in this journal, and be able to easily link to blog entries on the Wala. I worry that I'm compromising the simplicity of the Wala by adding feature cruft, but I truly think this is a useful feature.
Accomplishments:
- Ordered a 256 MB SD card (for my Treo 600) off Amazon.com. And in case anyone's wondering, here's why Amazon.com is eating online retailers for lunch: Including shipping, my 256 MB SD card cost what a 128 MB SD card would have cost at my nearest Best Buy or Circuit City.
- Went grocery shopping, and bought pretty much all the ingredients I'll need for making cookies this weekend. I plan to make about six different kinds of cookies on Saturday.
- Did a bit of Christmas shopping, using a coupon to my advantage.
- For dinner, made pan-fried catfish with a lemon-sake sauce. Very tasty, though the sauce needed more lemon juice.
- Proofed 11 pages of "Blue," a young adult fantasy novel that a friend of mine is writing. This is her second draft of the novel, and it's a big improvement over the first, as she's removed a lot of stuff about the protagonist going around school.
- Made palmier dough, which is a crispy leaf-shaped cookie somewhat like crispy cinnamon rolls. It's made by making pastry dough, then sprinkling it with cinnamon sugar, folding it into quarters then folding it in half, chilling, and baking it. I've done all but the baking, which I plan to do Saturday morning for breakfast. It was a bit of an ordeal, but I think I can get used to it and make it every week.
- Made buckeye balls, which are peanut butter balls surrounded with chocolate. One of my favorite holiday treats. They're pretty easy to assemble; they're just time-consuming, because you have to shape each ball, then chill them, then dip each one in chocolate.
As with yesterday, my illness sucked out the energy I needed to be productive today.
I did manage to do my strength training exercises, review Japanese (Kore wa Brent desu), and watch the last four episodes of .Hack//Sign. It was a wonderful four episodes, except that it didn't end; the final episode was a cliffhanger. I feel like I'm missing something important, and plan to do some research online to see if I've skipped an episode or something.
Incidentally, I didn't need to add vanilla to my hot chocolate mix. I just added water and the result was perhaps the best hot chocolate I've ever had.
I promised to write about the Russian animations I watched last week, and now I will.
They were remarkable, and unlike the animations I'm used to seeing over here. Most of the them were made using either stop-motion or cut-out animation (imagine a paper doll, photographed in different positions), which is rather jerky but also very different from traditional animation.
They also use camera and lighting tricks that I rarely see in American or Japanese animation. Several animations would pan along a very long landscape, many screens' width in size. One kept panning the camera up so we could see action in the distance.
Most of the stories were fairy tales, which I found somewhat disappointing. A fairy tale is, by nature, a simple story, so I was not treated to deep writing with the exception of a fabulous short called "The Weapon," in which an inventor creates an ultimate weapon with the intent to teach the military a lesson, but his invention gets out of hand. Brilliant.
Urgle. Forgive the dry tone of this entry; it's late and I'm still fighting off this cold. I think I'll stop now, before I embarrass myself further.
My truck wasn't towed. I got a temporary extension through February, so I'll have time to get my truck tested for emissions and return to the DMV. To my delight, I spent a total of maybe five minutes at the DMV.
I'm feeling better today, by the way. Much of the black hue to yesterday's entry was caused by my illness, I think. I always feel down when I'm sick. And I'm sick every couple of months. A co-worker suggested that I may be having an allergic reaction to something. That makes sense; I'm a moderately active guy, and I eat lots of healthy foods, so I shouldn't be sick this often.
My to-do list today wasn't as magical as it has been in the past. I did get through about half the items on the list, though.
In particular, since I've been taking care of my parent's golden retriever Molly for the past week, one of my tasks has been to train her while she's here. She's pretty good at "Come" and "Sit," and I want her to be used to "Down," "Stand," and "Stay" before she leaves.
My training system is pretty straightforward. I have a bowl of dry kibble on my desk. Whenever I have a moment to spare, I grab a few pieces of kibble and tell Molly to "Come." Her eyes are always glued to those pieces of kibble. I maneuver the kibble to move her into position. So, for example, I'll say "Down" as I move the kibble straight down to the floor. When she moves into position, I give her the piece of kibble. If she doesn't move properly, I simply re-position her and do it again (no reprimands).
It's remarkably effective. I'll only do a couple of commands per session and maybe three or four sessions per day, but she'll learn a command within a couple of days.
In other news, David Willis (the creator of It's Walky) is now drawing Shortpacked!, which deals with the employees of a toy store. I'm enjoying it; Willis has a good sense of oddball humor.
12:00 a.m.
Want to play DOOM 3 but don't have an expensive 3D video card? Just play the board game.
The idea's not quite as oddball as it first appeared to me. It looks like a fun monster destruction romp. Courtesy Ludology.
Ugh. I've had a pretty miserable weekend.
I came down with a cold late Thursday, which has kept me home pretty much all weekend. Which would be fine if I could actually get anything done while home. Instead, I watched anime (Samurai Champloo, R.O.D the TV, Martian Successor Nadesico, Tenchi GXP, and Zeta Gundam). All were enjoyable at different levels, but they weren't nearly as important as the various things I needed to do this weekend.
For example, I didn't finish proofing that novel, or scan Otherspace Productions artwork, or write, or read much of anything. And I could have done much of that if I hadn't felt like used chewing gum.
I'm also still taking care of my parents' dog, who's sweet but very confused and upset by being (A) away from her regular home and (B) away from her regular people. I can understand it, but I'm still annoyed at her desperate antics when I so much as put on my coat.
On top of all that, I got a sticker on my truck warning me to move it within 48 hours or it'll be towed (I apparently forgot to pay for my 2005 registration; I found the form under a bunch of papers). Of course, that was tacked onto my truck Saturday morning before a big snow storm, so there hasn't been a DMV open since then to allow me to re-register. So now I'm worried that I'll go outside tomorrow to find my truck's been towed. There's something I don't need to happen.
Worse, I can't go to sleep tonight, and I need to get to work at a reasonable time tomorrow, because my boss has previously expressed his displeasure that I'm sick so often. And my cold was pretty bad today, which makes me worry that I won't be completely healed tomorrow. I do not want to have to drag myself in to work tomorrow, sick and fatigued, especially if I have to face an unhappy boss. Assuming my truck is still there tomorrow morning.
So, all things considered, I want to curl up in bed and avoid the world. Except that I can't go to sleep, so I can't even do that. My worries just continue to circle my bed, nagging at me....
I've found that an effective way to keep a project on-track is to test it. By "project," I mean anything from writing a book to implementing a to-do list, as I'm doing.
I had a total of fifty-nine items on my new weekly to-do list this past week (some of them regular chores like laundry, others specific tasks like calling about my DSL service). Of those, I completed thirty-seven, and another seven could not be completed for various reasons (I couldn't update matrix experiments lain, for example, because we didn't meet last week so I had nothing to add). That leaves fifteen items that I just didn't get to.
So here's what that looks like:
Completed | 37 | (63%) |
Not Completeable | 7 | (12%) |
Incomplete | 15 | (25%) |
TOTAL | 59 |
Most of the incomplete items are daily tasks, such as practicing Japanese. Thus, I'm assuming that I find it easier to take care of occasional tasks than ones that I have to stare at every single day.
Hmmm. Perhaps I should make those daily tasks slightly less frequent, such as every other day.
John Carmack has his own blog now.
I sometimes think that, if I put my entire to-do list on one day on my calendar, I'd get it all done on that day.
For example, here's what I wanted to accomplish today: Make about seven phone calls, go to the grocery store, make a fish dinner, do a load of laundry, proof more of that novel, bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies that I can munch on at work instead of buying snacks from the machine, fill out the tax forms for Otherspace Productions, write at least two hundred words of the VR story, and practice Japanese.
I've done it all. Partly because it was all on my to-do list, and partly because it's all in support of my goals and desires in life. I want to eat well, and bake, and write, and keep Otherspace Productions going. When my to-do lists support those goals, I want to do 'em.
One of those phone calls was to Verizon to find out why my DSL hardware hasn't arrived. Surprise! My service was cancelled. Not by me: they cancelled it for me, when they found out that my house was so far away from the nearest switch that I didn't qualify for their normal rates. Of course, they didn't bother to tell me this.
According to the Verizon rep I talked to, my house is so far from the switch that I might just barely be able to squeeze some bandwidth down that pipe, but it'd be miniscule. I'm literally a few hundred feet from the maximum distance to get any sort of signal.
So I ordered DSL from Earthlink, which appears to support my location well. Judging from some of the forums I've checked, Earthlink's a decent high-speed internet provider; at least, these third-party forums aren't filled with enraged customers. Most of the posts are normal troubleshooting or information requests.
I should get my hardware by the weekend, and my line should be active by the beginning of next week. I hope to be online at home by the end of next week, an event to which I'm greatly looking forward. And hey, Earthlink explicitly supports Mac OS, which is a relief to me.
And now, as promised, a big VR story update:
That night, a shadow swam through the streets and alleys of the city, a figure so fast and so quiet and so stealthy that it was barely noticed by the drunks and the homeless. It slithered up a fire escape and slipped through the shadows of ventilation tubes, barely whispering across the gravel on the roof. It stopped above a skylight.
If anyone had been there to see it, they would have seen the outline of a man, dressed in Japanese clothes in various dark shades of dark and navy blue. His black hair was pulled back in a small knot, and his intense face peered down through the window, like a hawk studying prey.
He turned and glided to a nearby ventilation shaft, then folded himself into it and descended into the bowels of the building, with only the occasional slight sigh of shifting metal to advertise his passage. He found an appropriate grate, silently opened it from the inside, and climbed out into a small storage closet. A few moments later, he was in the hallway, turning the knob on a door and silently pushing it open with his left hand.
Before him was a large, empty room, lit only by the moonlight streaming down from the skylight in the center of the ceiling. Motes of dust hung suspended in the light like stars. And, in the exact center of that light sat Doodlehopper, her legs crossed, wearing her black jacket, shirt, pants, and boots. Her hands lay open on her legs, and as the intruder entered the room, her eyes opened and looked straight at him.
He held his place, inwardly surprised at this turn of events. He had not expected the girl to be so prepared. He knew better than to underestimate a prepared enemy, so he waited, gauging her. She did not move, simply watching him, for several moments.
Then she moved her hands to either side of her body and stood as smooth as a cat, the scabbard strapped to her side dangling heavily. His eyes fastened themselves on that scabbard, noting its every motion as it swayed next to her hips. Slowly, but not leisurely, she put her right hand on the hilt and tugged. Ah! It was not a scabbard; it was a bokken, a practice sword, probably made of some lightweight metal. It detached easily from the clip on her belt and she swung it forward, grasping it with her left hand to hold it upright in front of her, her eyes still staring straight at her opponent.
He put his feet together and stood straight, pulling himself up to his full six feet in height, then announced, "Please put that down."
She snorted. "Like hell."
"That bokken will stop my blade no better than a blade of grass. I do not wish to see a good instrument wasted. Please put it down."
She shook her head, slowly, keeping her eyes on him. "I have the right to defend myself with whatever I have. You're just gonna have to deal."
He sighed, like a parent confronting a petulant child. "Since I have been unable to kill you immediately, I must ask you this: Do you still protect Thomas Aznable?"
One of Doodlehopper's eyelids twitched slightly; whether from irritation or exertion, he could not tell. "Why d'you wanna know that?" she asked. "Gotta write it down in your Killing Diary?" His face clouded. She allowed herself a small, vicious smile, and continued: "'Tuesday: Bought bread, went out with Cindy, killed a guy in his sleep.'"
"Mr. Aznable is currently sleeping in a motel room twenty-two blocks from this building," the man said, his voice betraying a thin edge of annoyance. "If you are still pledged as his protector, you seem to be doing an odd job of protecting him."
Her vicious smile turned positively nasty. "You think I care what you think of me? You, a petty assassin who slaughters the innocent for a quick buc—"
And he was ten feet in front of her, his sword already out of its sheath, the thin blade glowing in the moonlight and arcing towards her right side like the grin of Death's Cheshire Cat. She shifted her weight and shoved her weapon towards his, knocking his sword out of the way with a clang as she turned back inwards and swung the blade with all her might towards his stomach and chest....
But it was no longer there; he glided out of the way and pulled himself back a few feet. How did he do that? she thought. He reversed his momentum in mid-strike!
She regained her balance and paused, studying him. His face betrayed him; he was watching her with greater intensity now. She gave herself a mental high-five for that.
"Do you protect Thomas Aznable?" he asked again, his voice as unperturbed as when he'd first asked it.
She grunted. "Persistent little bugger, aren't you? Okay. Yeah, I guess I do."
She saw him as he accelerated forward this time, giving her a larger window of opportunity to respond. But he didn't slow down, and angled past her to her left. She was puzzled for half an instant, then with all her strength she pushed her legs off the floor and slid to her right. He raised his blade almost languidly, and it flew through the air where her kidneys had been. She fancied she could feel its breath whisper along her side. He spun to face her but did not move further; she risked a glance down and saw the fabric of her jacket gaping down where his sword had cut clean through it.
She pushed down the panicked fears of a blade and a man that could cut through leather like a finger slicing through air and returned her attention to her opponent, but as she did he rocketed forward, bringing his steel around in a devastating arc that she knew could cut clean through her neck.
So she raised her blade to block. His mouth twisted slightly in amusement, knowing she didn't have the strength and the position to fully block his blow. At the final instant she twisted her hands slightly.
His steel met hers and an explosion threw his sword away, electricity arcing in sinuous waves between her bokken and his blade until he drew back to a comfortable distance. His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared in indignant surprise. She smirked.
"Wait a sec," she said. "I thought you wanted to fight?" She shifted her weight onto her back foot and yelled, "Let's fight," launching herself at him with every pound of weight and strength she could muster.
She attempted a kote, the end of her bokken reaching for her opponent's wrist. He pulled back yet further — though he was only a few feet from the wall now — and with inhuman speed spun his wrist around her thrust. A quarter-second later he was lunging at her towards his left, pulling his sword with him so as to slice into her left side. She ducked to her right, plowing into his chest and pulling the bokken towards her, hoping to trap him between its pulsing electricity and her body. But this meant grabbing his sword arm, leaving the deadly steel on its end to strike her back. Sure enough, she felt the muscles in his arm constrict, so she planted her feet and spun him away. He came to a rest nearly in the corner, and as he did she realized that he had allowed her to break their dangerous embrace, probably knowing that neither would leave it unscathed.
"You have great skill," he said, watching her carefully as he raised his sword into a ready position.
"Chudan kamae," she murmured, and his eyes widened a fraction of an inch as she leapt forward in a men uchi or blow to the head, her bokken whistling through the air ahead of her in a neon shimmer of electricity. He feinted to the right and brought his sword around in a deadly arc towards her exposed left side. She just caught his movement in enough time to swing her bokken towards his blade, making contact. Light exploded from the steel of his sword where it made contact with the crackling lightning of her bokken, then she was surprised to realize that he was holding his sword in place, pushing against her. She shifted her weight enough to let both weapons slide to the hilt, still locked, and she heaved forward with all her strength.
He held her at nearly arm's length, adjusting his stance every so often to keep her bokken from coming near him. Energy cascaded off the connected metal, sparking and flashing like fireworks. She glared grimly into his eyes, which were as calm as that of a professor studying a specimen.
She couldn't help frowning. She was just barely keeping him at bay, and he showed no sign of running out of tricks. She remembered a pitched battle against her sensei once, and his strikes and slashes were just like this. Well, not quite as deadly, but just as calm and focused as this man's.
Fear rushed into her mind, flooding her with a cold, clammy feeling of dread. She saw her death standing just beyond this man. He waited.
Now that you're done reading it, note the new poll; what do you think of this new entry?
(Note: I finally uploaded entries for the last few days, including a VR story snippet on Thursday. I plan to post a big VR story update tomorrow to make up for my lack of updates recently.)
The to-do list worked well today, too. I took my parents to the airport, then after a quick dinner at a local Asian restaurant, I picked up Molly (my parents' golden retriever, who I'm taking care of while they're away) and returned home without incident.
Poor Molly was literally hang-dog the whole time. She held her head low and barely moved for the first half of the trip, which is normal when my parents leave. She perked up by the time I reached home, though.
I then implemented a quick fix to Cronan, which I intend to send off for testing tomorrow. If that goes well, Cronan will be finished. I can't wait to get that off my chest.
I also spent a bit more time proofing that novel. Forty pages to go. This is work. Hopefully, I'll be able to finish it by the end of the week.
And I watched episode 35 of Gudam Seed, which is the last that's been released. Wow. The plot is getting heavy and pretty deep, and I am extremely impressed that Kira is turning into something approaching NausicaŠ. This just might be the best Gundam series of them all.
Afterwards, I wrote another 300 words of the VR story, which finishes part one. Yay! Part one is now a total of 18,000 words long. I now have an idea of the rough shape of part two, which will probably be another 30,000 words or so, which will bring the total to about 50,000 words, at which point I think Thomas Aznable will have reached the end of his primary character development. I look forward to seeing the shape of the story then, to see if this will remain a short novel, or if there's more story to tell. 'Twould be great if this ended up as a full-length novel that I could shop around. I could at least collect a bunch of rejections, then set up a print-on-demand thingie for it on my website.
Well, the weekly to-do list worked today, at least. I did pretty much everything:
- I tried to go to church, but the parking lot was almost empty (no doubt thanks to the snow).
- So I drove over to Starbucks and spent about two hours online there, researching accountants for Otherspace Productions, updating Syllable.org, advertising my spare bedroom for rent on CraigsList, updating SUB, and updating the OS on Navi2.
- I then dove back into Cronan, a BeOS application that I'm writing at the request of a really cool BeOS guy. Unfortunately, I've felt absolutely no interest in working on it lately, despite his great patience with me. I did manage to prototype the last big feature, so I can at least report that we're on track to be done soon. If I can, I'll do some more work on it tomorrow.
- I grouted the new tile floor at the entrance to my townhouse. The grout ended up quite rough, actually, but I did the best I could with what I had, and I'm proud that I at least did it. Took quite a long time, too; an hour and a half to grout fifteen tiles.
Tomorrow, I'll be driving my parents to the airport in the evening and bringing their golden retriever back to my place for the two weeks they'll be gone. That should still give me plenty of time to work on Cronan, though. Eh, we'll see.
Arg, forgot to upload Friday's entry, which was my penance for forgetting to upload any of the VR story last week. I'm beginning to think I should upload the VR story on a different day, since I'm sure not remembering to post it on Wednesdays.
I sort of relaxed on today. Oh, I did a few chores: laundry, a bit of house cleaning, etc. But mostly I spent the day doing things I enjoy: I cooked a pot of beef stew—an excellent accompaniment to the four inches of snow that fell today—and I watched some anime. I finished the second disc of Paranoia Agent (which started downright creeping me out by the end; while the first disc was more like Millenium Actress, the second is leaning towards Perfect Blue), Zeta Gundam (which is slowly establishing some very interesting characters, including a reticent jock), and Gundam Seed (which was good up to episode 22 and is drop-dead fabulous thereafter).
On Saturday, I also collated my Master Mind Map with a detailed to-do list I'd written a few months ago. The to-do list was an attempt to actually list everything that I want to do, broken down by category and task. After I re-arranged that list around my personal goals and desires, I found I was much more interested in accomplishing it.
So, I extracted everything in the to-do list that referenced a regular, day-of-the-week item (like strength training every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday), and assembled a weekly to-do list. This list contains each day of the next week, and what I want to do on each day.
Then I skimmed the big to-do list for a bunch of one-time things I want to get done, and inserted them into my week based on when I'll probably have time. I made sure to leave quite a lot of spare time in each day for unexpected things.
So. I look forward to seeing how this works.
Not much to write about. except my apologies for forgetting to post more of the VR story this week. I'll post a bit after the following review of The Seventh Seal, which I wrote several months ago and now have a chance to post.
It's a weird film. The plot is primarily philosophical, dealing with the apparent silence of God. The protagonist is a knight returning from the Crusades and questioning his faith. After he washes up on his homeland's shores, Death appears to him in bodily form, but the knight challenges Death to a game of chess so that he can have enough time to perform one good deed before dying.
The film chronicles the next day or so of the knight's life, as he and his squire observe the people around them. The Black Plague has struck hard, and its horrible effects are being blamed on everyone from supposed witches to widespread sin. Indeed, the film is literally interrupted part-way by a procession of chanting priests and wailing flagellants who stumble past, their eyes focused upwards or inwards but never outwards.
It's a weird film. Every shot looks like a professional black-and-white photograph, creatively framed and intriguing. Ebert suggests that this is as much a silent film as a talkie, and I agree. While there's plenty of dialogue, the film relies on visual storytelling. Bergman composes his shots so that the eye always has something new to feast upon.
It's an unsettling film, too, but it's supposed to be. It's about the silence of God, after all, and the film has many awkward silences and still points. The characters seem always off-balance, like a mediocre Shakespearean company that can't quite remember its lines. Some bluff their way through life, some ignore it, some struggle to make themselves heard or to understand. But everyone and everything in the film has a dream-like unreality.
I feel like I should finish this little review by explaining whether I liked or disliked it. Neither word applies to The Seventh Seal. You're not supposed to like the silence of God, and this film makes it uncomfortable. It perfectly captures the nature of its subject matter. The film left me with a sense of disquiet, and I pondered the nature of God afterwards. How many films can do that?
Doodlehopper shook her head. "I'm not guarding your guy anymore."
They both looked surprised, then the first thug said, "That doesn't matter. They'll come after you now anyway."
She'd expected that. Groups with the cash and cajones to hire nutjobs like Grey Hackle always wanted every loose end tied up. She knew she'd continue to be a target; she'd just hoped she could get enough distance to keep the heat off...oh well.
She gave them hard looks, searching them. She couldn't shake the impression of frightened kids. And from the looks of them, that's pretty much what they were.
Finally she blew out a breath and said, "Give me the info on tonight's attack. If it checks out, we'll meet again here at, oh, ten tomorrow morning."
Their faces lit up with hope and they nodded. The second one explained, "Tonight, you'll be attacked by Zazun the Blade. He always attacks at night. He uses some sort of swords, but we don't know what kind or even how many. He's silent and not flashy at all. Usually kills very clean. But when things get messy, uhhh...so does he. I saw some of the cop photos. Blood and stuff everywhere. He'll go after you first, then Aznable."
She nodded, then stood. "I'll be ready."
It's going to be a bulleted list day, mainly because I got quite a bit done.
- Stopped by Suncoast and bought Paranioa Agent volume 2, Samura Champloo volume 1, R.O.D the TV volume 4, and El Mariachi.
- Watched two more episodes of Gundam SEED, which is becoming increasingly fantastic, and episode five of Paranoia Agent, which continues the almost unimaginable excellence of the first four episodes.
- Made chili in preparation for the Chili Cook-Off at work, and it turned out quite tasty. Easy recipe: Brown two pounds of ground beef (seasoned with salt, pepper, and chile powder), chop two onions and sweat them with some oil and garlic for a few minutes in a large pot, then add two chopped red bell peppers, five chopped chiles (heads and seeds removed), a can of beans, and a can of crushed tomatoes. Simmer for ten minutes, then add the beef and lower the heat to low-medium and cook for 45 minutes.
- Wrote a decent ending to "The Old Man," though I'm still not happy with it. I may need to write a few more endings, just to figure out how I really want to end it.
In other news, my new laptop is holding up pretty well, though it feels cheaper than Navi. The keys feel fragile and the material feels thinner, more like a child's toy than a piece of serious hardware. The hard drive's much louder, too. I don't know; maybe it's just me, and my frustration in unexpectedly having to pay $1,300 for it (which I honestly can't afford, and had to put on my already charge-heavy Visa card).
This has ended up a pretty good day. I had difficulty focusing at work, but got a fair amount done. I came home and watched more of Zeta Gundam and Gundam SEED, then incorporated comments on my November short story, "The Old Man." Now I just need to remember the ending that the writing group hashed out.
Wanted to mention: I'm less than fifty pages from finishing proofing that novel. It's been a struggle; several recent passages were tirelessly gruesome, and the author continues his tendency to open new chapters with several paragraphs of irrelevant backstory. But I'm so close I can smell the sweet scent of completion.
I've actually considered abandoning this proofing job a couple of times, mainly in reaction to those gruesome parts. I'm sorry I read them; they feel like what I've read of the exploitation movie I Spit On Your Grave. Let's watch as a character tortures and kills people in revenge! Yay! Even Quentin Tarantino knew to keep that off-screen in Pulp Fiction.
Getting back on track: I finally had to e-mail the author, who assured me that there are no more violent dismemberments later in the book. With that knowledge, I'll grit my teeth and finish it.
I should point out that the novel is not bad; it's quite good. However, as a proofreader, I have to read every single word and weigh the grammar of every sentence. I can't just read along and enjoy the book; I have to dissect it. It's a draining experience.
Draining or not, I will finish this.
Okay, this has not been a good weekend for writing journal entries, as I haven't had my normal 'puter on which to write them. So, in brief:
Navi (my old laptop) is pretty much dead. It won't even boot for more than a few seconds any more.
I bought a new, entry-level iBook to replace it, as repairing it would have cost nearly as much as the replacement did. So, $1,300 later, I have a new laptop.
However, not only did the Apple store forget to tell me when my data was transferred to the new laptop—I had to call to find out that it was ready—my primary user account wasn't transferred. To be fair, this wasn't completely their fault, as I had that account encrypted with FileVault; it wasn't supposed to be copied normally. That meant that all my primary data was lost.
Thank goodness for backups. I made a backup of my data on Saturday, so I grabbed that and was pretty much back to normal; the only thing I lost was some of my wallpapers (so I've made a note to add that to my backup procedures). If nothing else, this has been an excellent confirmation that my backup procedures work.
Unfortunately, I also discovered that the entry-level iBook has a smaller hard drive than Navi's. It has just enough space for all my music files and a few games, but I only have 1.38 GB left. Not much space. And that statement should shock me, but I guess I'm used to the massive amounts of storage around these days.
So, I've been cleaning out a few unnecessary things, such as album artwork (which is almost useless). I'm thinking of re-ripping a bunch of my CDs as something under 192 kbps, as I doubt I'll notice the difference except in concert-level performances.
Actually, I think I should rip the same song (or set of songs) multiple times at different qualities and judge for myself. Personal experience is the ultimate teacher.
(Gah! This was supposed to post for Thursday. Ah well; I'll fix it eventually.)
My long, tiring week continues. I attended happy hour tonight, which was great fun despite the fact that the grease of the pizza joined forces with the alcohol in the Guinness to wage war on my stomach. But I had a good time with the folks there, and then helped my parents move some furniture and caught up with them.
Unfortunately, I'm having iBook trouble. Several times recently, the screen has completely died. The OS itself apparently continues to function; I can blindly click on things and can hear audio feedback, and the hard drive makes noises typical of normal workings. Even rebooting didn't help today. I eventually managed to do a full reset—unplugging it and removing the battery—and it worked fine after that, despite being unhappy at the unclean shutdown.
So now I'm going to have to find time to take Navi to my local Apple Store, and hope that they can fix it reasonably soon. Navi's my only link to the internet while I wait for Verizon to hook up DSL at my townhouse (a process which I expect to take several weeks).
I am in the middle of a long tunnel. That tunnel is this week.
Okay, that's probably too dramatic, but this is a very tiring week and it's only going to get more tiring. I've been out every night this week—Monday and Tuesday all night at writing groups—and I'll be out every other night. Thursday night, I'm going to happy hour after work, then helping my parents move a dresser. Friday night, I'll be having dinner with my aunt and her son who are coming down for the weekend, after which I'll spend the night at Redemption. Saturday morning I have breakfast and spend the morning with the same relatives, then it's off to the weekly animation meeting, then I host Guy's Night Out.
Sunday, I have church, then I really need to finish proofing that novel so I can get it off my chest.
I'm not complaining; I'll enjoy it all. It's just more than I can honestly handle in one week without exhausting myself. I know that I'll be irritable by Sunday. I want to avoid exhausting myself, but then...what should I cut out?
Meanwhile, work has been an unexpected joy. I've been in training all week, but it's training with a bunch of fun people who all want to learn and teach. That's made all the difference; I'm learning a lot and connecting with people a little bit. That's why I want to go to happy hour Thursday night.
Unfortunately, I've come home exhausted and mentally unable to perform my 9:00 routine (write fiction, review Japanese, write a journal entry, and read). I've wanted to, but I either return home at 11:00 or I don't have the energy.
Though to be honest, I wonder if I'm not just fooling myself there. What if I just went ahead and wrote anyway?
On the gripping hand, I suspect that I'm mistrusting my own judgment. I probably am too tired to do those things, and if I tried, I'd tire myself further and make insignificant progress.
I have got to stop reading manga when I get home.
The manga in this case was volume four of Osamu Tezuka's Buddha, a massive epic that tells the tale of the Buddha's life. Fortunately, Tezuka's brilliant, so his narrative is breathtaking. Unfortunately, he's telling the extended edition, full-scale version of Buddha's life; Buddha doesn't even get his name until the end of this volume. As a result, this is a sprawling story, and it's easy to lose sight of the big picture in the midst of fascinating subplots.
I bought this book today, at the local Evil Chain Bookstore, just after an excellent writer's group meeting. We critiqued one short story and two novel excerpts, which were all about as different as could be:
- "The Bank Robber Wore Armani" was a humorous piece that the author had pared down for a short-short market, but I felt it pared down too much. There was just barely enough to describe the plot, and precious little to establish characters.
- "As Yet Untitled" was the first chapter of an older woman's first attempt at writing anything. In this case, it's a mystery novel. It was a textbook example of a first writer's work: inconsistent point of view, minimal description of characters, scenes that began and ended abruptly...and yet the author had a wonderful ability to evoke mood and describe details with richness and power.
- The final piece (I can't remember its name) is the emotional climax of a dramatic novel about a woman with a domineering mother, who is returning home to deal with her now invalid mother, and the emotional minefield she must navigate there. It was powerful and moving and beautifully executed. We had comments and suggestions, but were mostly blown away by the sheer emotional weight of the text.
This makes me want to write. I hope I can spend some time this week polishing my December short story, "Crossing the Border," and writing more of the VR story. I have about 2,500 words of the VR story as yet unpublished, which is a considerable buffer, but I do plan on posting larger segments as we move into the next big action scene, so I could do with some more material.
>At this point, I wish I had a better idea of the future direction of the VR story. I intentionally began the VR story with no idea of its direction so that I could just write something fun, but it's turning into a mishmash of action sequences. I'm toying with the idea of plotting out the direction of the story so that it would hold together better—
But I just realized exactly what needs to happen next in the VR story. Okay. Yes. This is going to be very cool and a lot of fun.
I am continually amazed at how much I can do when I write down a to-do list at the beginning of the day.
For some reason, typing it out on the computer doesn't help me much. When I've tried that before, I've accomplished a few of the items on the list, but not all of it. I think that typing it helped me to organize my thoughts, which made it easier for me to start on the list, but it wasn't enough to finish it. There's something important about putting pen to paper, that makes the list feel more real to me.
Anyvay. I finally cleaned up all of the mail that's been piling up over the past week, calculated out my actual bank balance (which, unfortunately, won't allow me to make any significant purchases for quite awhile), did laundry, finished updating matrix experiments lain with the artwork I got yesterday, and made a pot of chili.
I should mention that the chili is a variation on a recipe from great chef Alton Brown. It's a bean-less chili that consists mostly of ground beef, as well as onions, garlic, beef stock, beer (!), some crushed tomatoes, and of course chopped chili peppers. It's supposed to also contain roasted red bell peppers, but I left the peppers under the broiler for so long that they were almost completely blackened. I compensated with way more crushed tomatoes than called for in Alton's recipe. The resulting chili was pretty good from what little I tasted before tossing it in the fridge. I can't wait to try it tomorrow for lunch.
I actually didn't accomplish everything on my list. The one item that remained undone was proofing the rest of that novel. I told its author I'd finish it by the end of January, but even that's going to be a tough job. I'm going to be out every night this week as it turns out, so I probably won't have the time to work on it until the weekend at the earliest.
FYI, my weeknight schedule for this week is as follows:
- Monday – Mystery writer's group
- Tuesday – SF writer's group
- Wednesday – Meeting with a friend so she can return several DVDs she borrowed from me
- Thursday – Helping my parents move a dresser out of one of their rental properties in time for the new renter, who's moving in less than two weeks from now.
I'd like to fool myself into thinking that today proves I'll be able to be productive when I get home from these things this week, but I know that I'll be much more tired than I was today. Maybe I will have the energy at some point to proof another thirty or forty pages, but I'm not going to set myself up for disappointment that way.
Otherspace Productions met today, minus our concept artist. We had a good time. matrix experiments lain is nearing completion, so I think we'll be able to move forward with Summer Storm very soon.
I'm thinking about developing a documentary about the making of matrix experiments lain, sort of a "Here's how we made this animation" video. I figure we could sell it for a reasonable price, which would start generating income, which would be welcome.
The main problem lies in figuring out exactly what sort of documentary to make. How do I approach it? I don't want to make a dry, boring video, obviously, but I can't even get a grip on how to begin. It gives me a headache.
So now, to bed, even though it's late and my sleep patterns remain completely messed up.
Held the Redemption card club tonight. 'Twas a good night, filled mostly with older kids: Nik, Matt, Gret, and Richard, in addition to the four Davis'. Plus Gret's little sister and Dad.
I had a great time, though I'm usually monkey-in-the-middle on Fridays. Everyone wants to ask me a question or get my opinion or find out if I've seen a movie. Not that I'm complaining; it's great.
I did manage to sneak in another episode of Zeta Gundam, which is getting ever more interesting. The main character, Kamille, is a bit of a nutjob. He overhears a mild insult from a soldier, and proceeds to punch the guy. After he's arrested, he gets into another fight with the same officer but manages to slip away when a Gundam crashes into the building they're in. Then he steals a Gundam, uses it to intimidate and laugh at the officer who insulted him, then uses it to defect to the bad guys (at least, I think they're the bad guys; it can be hard to tell in Gundam shows). I can't tell if he's confused or evil.
I am never going to get anything done this week.
I overslept this morning, so I had no time in the morning to exercise, read the Bible, read a poem, or get breakfast, as I usually do. As a result, my entire day was off-balance. I need those things to center me.
Which is perhaps not an entirely good thing. Oh, there's nothing wrong with comforting routines in themselves, but I've begun wondering if I depend on them too much.
I've realized lately that I'm poor at embracing uncertainty. When I'm faced with a situation that makes me anxious, I tend to freeze up. This happens to me a lot at work; if I have to do something new, I need some time to get used to it.
I think I'd do well by training myself to accept uncertainty. How to Think like Leonardo da Vinci suggests putting yourself in situations that make you mildly anxious—drive down a road you're unfamiliar with, strike up a conversation with a stranger—and simply monitor your emotional and physical reactions. Learn what anxiety feels like, so you can recognize it when you have even a mild reaction.
Anyvay. Despite my off-kilter day (and tiredness), I had a productive day at work, followed by a wonderful dinner with my parents (my treat for their assistance with my townhouse), followed by a movie at my house (the Jackie Chan/Sammo Hung/Tony Leung Cool Hand Luke rip-off, The Prisoner). They left at 9:30, but my Deep Discount DVD order had arrived, and I just had to watch one of the MST3K episodes contained therein. I contented myself with "The Gunslinger," but slipped in a few short films as well. I still wasn't tired, so I watched the first episode of Zeta Gundam (which, like the first episodes of most Gundam series, was good but not remarkable, though I am looking forward to future episodes).
So now it's 2:00 a.m. and I'm at least writing a journal entry before I go to bed, despite feeling only a little tired. I fear I'll oversleep even more tomorrow morning. Well, I'll be working late anyway in preparation for the Redemption club meeting at 7:30 p.m.
I wish I had a snappy ending for this.
I am never going to get anything done this week.
I overslept this morning, so I had no time in the morning to exercise, read the Bible, read a poem, or get breakfast, as I usually do. As a result, my entire day was off-balance. I need those things to center me.
Which is perhaps not an entirely good thing. Oh, there's nothing wrong with comforting routines in themselves, but I've begun wondering if I depend on them too much.
I've realized lately that I'm poor at embracing uncertainty. When I'm faced with a situation that makes me anxious, I tend to freeze up. This happens to me a lot at work; if I have to do something new, I need some time to get used to it.
I think I'd do well by training myself to accept uncertainty. How to Think like Leonardo da Vinci suggests putting yourself in situations that make you mildly anxious—drive down a road you're unfamiliar with, strike up a conversation with a stranger—and simply monitor your emotional and physical reactions. Learn what anxiety feels like, so you can recognize it when you have even a mild reaction.
Anyvay. Despite my off-kilter day (and tiredness), I had a productive day at work, followed by a wonderful dinner with my parents (my treat for their assistance with my townhouse), followed by a movie at my house (the Jackie Chan/Sammo Hung/Tony Leung Cool Hand Luke rip-off, The Prisoner). They left at 9:30, but my Deep Discount DVD order had arrived, and I just had to watch one of the MST3K episodes contained therein. I contented myself with "The Gunslinger," but slipped in a few short films as well. I still wasn't tired, so I watched the first episode of Zeta Gundam (which, like the first episodes of most Gundam series, was good but not remarkable, though I am looking forward to future episodes).
So now it's 2:00 a.m. and I'm at least writing a journal entry before I go to bed, despite feeling only a little tired. I fear I'll oversleep even more tomorrow morning. Well, I'll be working late anyway in preparation for the Redemption club meeting at 7:30 p.m.
I wish I had a snappy ending for this.
(Arrrg...this is meant to be for yesterday, but I can't change it at the moment.)
I'd hoped to be a little more productive today, but I was quite tired after a (good, productive) day at work. I managed to make up a pot of stir-fry and bake a chicken breast for dinner, but that was the extent of my productivity. I plopped onto the couch and watched the MST3K episode "Red Zone Cuba", the first episode of the anime Lunar Legend Tsukihime (which was mediocre, though anime is often mediocre early on), and the first three episodes of Paranoia Agent (which I've already seen, twice; it's that good).
I've been a bit depressed all day, actually, what with the death of Will Eisner. My favorite blogs have been talking extensively about his death, but in case you aren't familiar with him, Eisner was a comic strip guy from the 1930's who was the first to begin seeing comics as a valid artistic medium.
To put things in perspective:
It's the 1930's. Daily newspaper comic strips are just now established, particularly thanks to William Randolph Hearst's obsession with printing Krazy Kat in his papers. These comics fell into two broad categories: gag comics (like Krazy Kat) and adventure stories. The adventure stories favored heroic characters who were beginning to cross over the line into superheroes.
At this time, Will Eisner began drawing a comic called The Spirit, about a guy in a fedora who used his brains first and his fists as a backup. He was a prototype superhero.
But more importantly, the Spirit was drawn as a very human character who dealt with human problems. One classic episode has the Spirit and a lady friend stranded on a desert island, during which the hero is completely delirious. The island happens to be the home of a random criminal the Spirit put away many years ago, since escaped and holed up in a little shack on this island. He proceeds to beat the Spirit nearly to death before the lady intervenes. It's a wonderfully human problem—what happens to superheroes when they're not at their peak? They suffer.
Eisner became one of the central men in comics at the time, hiring many influential artists, including (pause while Brent consults his copy of Eisner's Shop Talk) Jack Kirby, Lou Fine, and Joe Kubert. The Eisner & Iger studio was a major training ground for talent and produced many strips.
But then, the cannons of World War II thundered, and Eisner—along with many other comic strip artists of the day—went off to war. When he came back, he tired of comics and pursued more traditional business.
Fast-forward to the 1970's (I don't know exactly when this occurred). Eisner was sitting as chairman of the board at Croft Publishing when he got a phone call from Phil Seuling, who was one of the first comic convention organizers (he helped start the now-massive San Diego Comic-Con). His secretary said, "There's a Mr. Seuling on the phone, and he's talking about a comic convention. What's that? I didn't know you were a cartoonist, Mr. Eisner."
So he went to the convention, and he "was stunned at the existence of a whole world," to quote him. He got back into comics and began writing about and exploring the idea of comics as a serious artistic medium.
Now, this was before big-budget comic book movies, and this was even before the term "graphic novels" had any meaning. This was before Watchmen and Sandman and Maus and Kingdom Come and The Dark Knight Returns. In 1978, Eisner published A Contract With God, the first American graphic novel. It's actually a set of four short stories that all concern the residents of 55 Dropsie Avenue in the Bronx, and it's full of pathos.
Fourteen years later, after the rest of the comics world began producing graphic novels, Eisner published the first critical study of comics as an art form, Comics and Sequential Art. This inspired Scott McCloud to write and publish his seminal work, Understanding Comics, which has become the de facto primer on comics as a medium.
Eisner was still drawing comics until just before he died, and was responsible for a mountain of material. He may very well have been the American Osamu Tezuka.
I wish I'd written him a letter, to thank him.
Hopefully, he's happily comparing notes with Tezuka now.
Well, today I planned to get very little done, and I did. Or, rather, didn't. Er. I did as little as I planned.
Anyvay.
Tuesdays are typically long, hard days for me. I've noticed that, on most Tuesdays, I come home tired and don't have the energy for any significant projects; I have to veg out that night. So, I intentionally planned to do only a few things today, namely, make stir-fry, leave a check out for the plumber who's coming tomorrow, and print out the submitted stories for my writer's group next Tuesday. I didn't get to the stir-fry, but I did manage the rest of it, plus I finished writing the first draft of my December short story, "Crossing the Border."
The plumber is coming for an entertaining reason. When my Dad and I worked on hooking up my new dishwasher last Friday, we found a valve that looked like it shut off the water to the house. When my Dad turned it, he discovered he was turning it off, so he figured that wasn't it. When he turned it back on, it began spraying water everywhere. After a few Calvin and Hobbes moments of fighting the streams of water, he closed the valve, but it was still dripping water, one drop every couple of seconds.
We got a bucket under it, and I tried calling a plumber...but this was four o'clock on New Year's Eve. I finally got through to one service that promised to find someone who'd give me a call and an estimate as to when she'd (!) be out. Not surprisingly, I never heard back. Fortunately, the drip was slow enough and my bucket was big enough that I could leave it over the weekend.
So I called back on Monday. Turns out they don't even service my area. Thanks for the promise, then. So I started calling plumbers again, and got one who said they'd send someone out Wednesday morning. My Dad volunteered to hang out at my place so I wouldn't have to miss work, for which I've made sure to thank him repeatedly. So hopefully, the plumber will (A) fix the leak, and (B) figure out the location of the main shut-off valve for my townhouse. If he does that, Dad says he should be able to get my dishwasher up and running tomorrow afternoon.
I have my fingers crossed, but not my breath held. So to speak.
Man, English is a weird language.
She had to admit she was intrigued. The talkative one poured out his story, about his life in the mob, being assigned to "take care of" Thomas, his failures to do so thanks to Doodlehopper, and some ludicrous fairy tale about meeting with a bunch of mafia big-wigs who had some guy chained up in the same room.
Still. They dutifully showed her the tattoos on their palms, which marked them as mafia for life. The very few who managed to escape that life made sure to get skin grafts for their palms, since one glance at those tattoos meant an instant pink slip.
The talkative one was winding down. "So, you see, we can't go back, because they'll kill us. And no matter where we go, they'll find us and kill us. There's no use running. But...errrrr...." He looked down at his hands, which were throttling a paper napkin. "You're really good at protecting yourself, and you're against them. So we figure, if we could join up with you, we could fight together. We'd protect you, and you'd protect us."
She fought the urge to laugh, knowing that that would be at best impolite and at worst an invitation for one of them to launch into hysterics.
He saw her face spasm and quickly said, "We won't get in your way! We'll make our own meals and everything. And we really are good at what we do, we just...well...you're better than anyone else we've met."
She closed her eyes and scrubbed a hand over her face. "I hate to sound cliché," she said, "but there's no way I can trust you. Maybe you've been given another chance and now you're just trying to get my guard down."
The quiet one spoke up, saying with a soft voice, "Boss is going to send another group after you. We know who they are, and we know how to stop them. One of them is going to attack you tonight. We can tell you what's going on, and I know their system enough to hack in and find out what they'll do next."
I've been writing recently about the mind maps I make for each day. Sometimes I accomplish everything on the map. Some days, I accomplish nothing on the map. Today was one of the latter days.
Work went well; despite the fact that an electrician was wiring offices all day, my computer booted and I was on the network starting about 10:30 a.m. and continuing for the rest of the day. I updated a couple of documents and completed my weekly status for the week before. Most importantly, I talked briefly with the project engineer about work to be done, which I think laid the groundwork for a deeper conversation I plan to have with him tomorrow, in which I will push forward with my takeover of more documentation work.
I had intended to go home and make stir-fry, so that I could take leftovers to work for lunch rather than going out to eat. I was so looking forward to that until I realized—halfway into the afternoon—that I had forgotten to defrost the chicken, and I had no other meat to use. Arrrrg.
So, I went out to eat at a nice restaurant, which I rarely do for dinner. The restaurant of choice was called the Longhorn Steakhouse, which serves large portions of pretty good dishes at reasonable prices. I was only able to eat half of my meal, which is good, as I can have the other half for lunch tomorrow. The chicken is currently defrosting, so I can make stir-fry tomorrow night.
On the way home, I stopped by Best Buy to use a gift card, and after deciding to purchase several things then putting them all back, I ended up with just one purchase: volume 1 of the Shaman King anime. I came home and watched all three episodes on the disc. Episodes 1 and 2 were pedestrian, but the third shows serious promise. Episode three was good anime.
Then I chatted with Saalon for awhile, about the Java programming language and the state of fantasy and science fiction literature (yes, our conversations do wander a bit). That inspired me to write a bit more of my December short story, which is now nearly done. Yay!
But my mind map remains sadly unused. I didn't make my stir-fry, I didn't fix up more of the wall Dad and I built on Friday, and I forgot to check my bank statements while at work so I couldn't go through my finances.
But I had a good day. So who cares?
'Twas a quiet day. I had very little energy or enthusiasm this morning, so I relaxed in my bedroom, reading volume 3 of the Bleach manga and generally relaxing. I eventually got the gumption to head off to work, where I intended to finish off some work and sign my timecard. I arrived to discover that the entire network was down. Arg. I'm going to have to create a correction timecard and explain the situation to my boss tomorrow. That's an unpleasant thought.
I stopped by the grocery store on the way home and picked up a few things, especially a filet of tilapia (a type of fish) for dinner. By the time I got home and cleaned the sink full of dishes (I'm anxious to get my dishwasher working), I didn't want to do much of anything, so I watched Jackie Chan's Spiritual Kung Fu—a terrible film but also fundamentally enjoyable in the way of any Saturday afternoon, badly dubbed, incomprehensible kung fu film—and episodes 19 and 20 of Gundam SEED. Those episodes were a nice break from the first few episodes; a lot more light-hearted than the fifteen episodes that came before them.
Gundam SEED suffers from a problem that I see in the other Gundam series I've seen (Mobile Suit, Wing, and Turn-A): unevenness. Each show will plod along for an episode or two, then will break into half an episode of genius—character development, action, drama—then return to very little of any of that for another few episodes. Strange.
Somewhere in the middle of that, I baked the tilapia. Ironically, despite the fact that I have a talent for baking, whenever I've made a fish meal I've always fried it (unless I had a recipe). This was my first experiment with just baking fish. I put the tilapia filet on a piece of aluminum foil, brushed it with olive oil and lemon juice, wrapped the foil around the filet, placed it on a baking sheet, and baked it at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. The result was flaky and flavorful, dead easy to make, and healthy.
That gave me a bit more energy, so I hauled two weeks' worth of trash out to the street, as well as some broken lumber and a broken pane of glass the previous tenants were kind enough to leave in the back yard, then proofed more of the novel I'm being paid to proof. It's definitely real work. Even though I enjoy the novel, I can't dive in and enjoy it the way I do a novel that I read for pleasure. I have to pay attention to every word, making sure none are misspelled, and judge the grammatical weight of every sentence. Some sentences are grammatically correct but feel wrong, and I have to note that too. But I'm up to page 220 out of 320 now, so I can see the finish line.
I also wrote another 250 words of my December short story (which I want to finish up so I can start on my January short story). I'm almost done with it; it should only need another 500 words or so. That'll make it 1,500 words; short, but acceptable for a short story. At my current rate, I should be done within the next few days.
Today was quite amazing. Last night, I got a call from a long-time friend who was in town for a few days, so I quickly organized an impromptu party for today (Saturday). I knew a few people might show up, but didn't even know when.
So I trekked to the grocery store early this morning and picked up a few basic supplies—hot dogs, hamburgers, and potatoes. I then returned home and wrote up a little mind map of what I wanted to accomplish.
I accomplished almost everything on the list: cleaning the house, doing laundry, making a batch of homemade potato chips, and proofing another fifty pages (only a hundred more to go). I'm sure I wouldn't have accomplished anywhere near that much if I hadn't mapped it out.
Then folks began to show up, and we watched My Neighbor Totoro and a bit of MST3K before the party kicked into high gear and I made dinner and we ended up playing games and chatting until midnight.
I'm amazed that I can say that I just had an eight-hour party at my house. I am not a social butterfly. My friends are important to me, but I don't entertain that often. And I can do a party that lasts that long?
Wow.
And here's how the England trip went:
On Friday, my wonderful parents picked me up from work and drove me to Dulles Airport, where I breezed through security and spent two hours lounging at the gate, watching Zeta Gundam on my laptop. I boarded my Virgin Atlantic flight and took a seat next to an older gentleman who was returning to Pakistan following a lecture here in the States. Quite a trip for him.
We had a minor incident on the plane: I woke up at one point and noticed the air crew half-dragging a very inebriated gentleman to the back. He wasn't loud or angry, as far as I could see; just barely able to move his own body. The captain later informed us that "the local constabulary" would board the plane immediately upon landing and would escort this gentleman out. When they did—and he still could barely move—applause broke out. Apparently he had made quite a nuisance of himself.
We landed at about 7:00 a.m. Saturday morning, so I grabbed a bus to my hotel and checked in at 8:00. I entered my room, attempted to switch on the lights in the bathroom to take a shower, and...nothing. None of the light switches worked. I tried the lamps in the main room; nothing. I figured I must be missing something obvious, so I worked up some courage and called the front desk. I explained to the nice woman that none of the lights came on, and she replied that I could get a wake-up call tomorrow. I blinked and re-explained my problem, and I think she still was confused because she just said she'd send a porter around. A minute later, a knock on the door announced a very nice man who showed me a slot into which I had to insert my door key. The electricity would only work if the key was in the slot. An ingenious way to ensure patrons don't leave the lights on while they go out for the day, and the first I'd seen this.
So I took a shower and, at 9:00, went down to the bar where we agreed to meet. After writing up a little sign that read "Syllable" and typing on my laptop for a few minutes, someone came up and asked if I was Brent Newhall. It was one of the Syllable guys.
We chatted very amiably for the next hour or so as others arrived. We maxed out at seven people, which I consider a rousing success for a small-time operating system like ours. We discussed how Syllable was different from other operating system projects (particularly SkyOS), our personal plans for various Syllable projects, and where we'd like to see Syllable in a few years. And the entire discussion happened organically, without awkward silences or forced discussion points.
I want to make this point because I consciously avoided organizing this convention. I wanted to see if the community could self-organize the event, and it came off without a hitch.
By 5:00 I could barely keep my eyes open, so I excused myself, returned to my hotel room, and fell into bed. I slept for a solid seven hours, waking up around midnight to doze and watch TV. Actually, BBC2 uses this time to air educational programming, so I was able to catch some fascinating programs about homeopathic medicine and good study habits.
My flight left at 11:00 a.m., so I set my alarm for 7:00 a.m., figuring that I probably wouldn't even go to sleep again. But I did, and when my alarm woke me up at 7:00 I was quite groggy, so I set the alarm forward by half an hour and went back to sleep.
The alarm didn't go off again.
So I woke up and blearily looked at the clock. 10:03. ACK! I threw everything together, grabbed a bus, and raced to the Virgin Atlantic counter, where a helpful Virgin employee came over and asked me which flight I was on. "11:00 to Washington," I said. Her face fell and she replied, "That flight's closed. Come on over here." She sent me to the front of a line, where they verified that they'd just closed the door of my airplane. The only other flight to the U.S. was to JFK Airport in New York.
So, being Virgin Atlantic, they brightly and sympathetically gave me a ticket for that flight. No charge.
So I grabbed a meal and sat in the cafeteria for about an hour, absorbing this turn of events and letting my stomach and mind settle. Then I was pretty much okay; I went to the huge departure lounge, browsed the Virgin Megastore (where I could have bought some Angelic Layer) and watched some of the extremely disturbing children's programming on the TVs set up around the lounge (this is worse than the Teletubbies. Imagine that for a moment).
(Okay, if your brain hasn't exploded: Imagine five people dressed in big fuzzy neon outfits that make them look rotund. These outfits end in turtlenecks, and they look like babies, but the turtlenecks obscure everything except their big eyes and bald heads. In a flashy CGI sequence, they awake out of crescent-shaped beds and fly down to a white stage on which they dance. But because of the awkwardness of their designs, all they can really do is bounce and jiggle from side to side. So they do that. For many, many minutes. Then they fly back to their star child beds and go back to sleep. Yyyyeah.)
I then got on the flight to JFK, which was on a 747 and much nicer than the plane on which I flew to Heathrow. The 747 had Virgin's newest entertainment system, with 51 movies alone (among them Ghost in the Shell 2, actually). So I alternated between random TV programming, their J-Pop radio station, and my Zeta Gundam collection on my laptop.
I arrived at JFK and decided I'd try to catch a train down to D.C. Everyone was thoroughly unhelpful, and I got confused and got on a bus to the Port Authority instead of Grand Central Station. I got back to JFK two and a half hours later. The bus did go through Times Square, though, so that was fun.
Times Square is interesting. It's definitely a lot cleaner than it used to be; it's bright and fun now. But the strip clubs are still only two blocks away. It's an odd juxtaposition; bright neon advertisements for Samsung and Coke on one side, and "LIVE ADULT SHOWS" on the other.
Also, New York is not a particularly pretty city. There's art everywhere, but the place feels grimy and worn, like a factory during the industrial revolution.
So as I journeyed through the city—and endured a self-important passenger who "never got a ticket" and "wouldn't get off this bus" then found his ticket in his pocket—I called my parents and had them look up flights to D.C. Luckily, Independence Air had a few flights, which I was sure I could catch.
I returned to JFK and managed to find the Independence Air desk, where the ticket lady was nice enough to sell me a ticket right there. It was for a flight that wouldn't leave for a couple of hours, but I was thankful just for that. I called my parents with the final details and sank into a seat at the gate.
Yesterday, I wrote that I'd planned to write about the difference in hospitality between the British and New Yorkers. Every customer service rep in England—and I had to deal with about ten, by my count—was unfailingly polite and genuinely paid attention to my requests (even the confused Holiday Inn receptionist). Every customer rep in New York was sullen and seemed to take personal offense at my requests (except the woman at the Independence Air ticket desk). The difference was shocking.
We had to walk out onto the tarmac and up the stairs into the plane. Not a big-budget operation. The plane itself only sat fifty passengers. But it was a solid little thing and the service was absolutely fine. It felt like high-end bus service. And, frankly, how much service do I need on board a plane?
It started to snow as we boarded, and we sat anxiously in the plane as we waited to be cleared for take-off. After about half an hour, the pilot explained over the intercom that we could take off soon, but we had to be de-iced first. That was rather cool, actually; buses came out and sprayed big white jets of de-icing compound all over the wings and side of the plane. It sounded exactly like the water from a house sweeping over a car window.
We were de-iced and we took off, and the flight went off without a hitch. I didn't even have enough time to watch a full episode of Zeta Gundam before we landed. My parents were there to pick me up, and we went back to there place where I collapsed into a very soft, very warm, very welcome bed.
And that was my England trip.
Arg. I lost my 'net connection yesterday, apparently due to utility work down the street. It's been down ever since. I'm actually posting this from work, so I don't have much time to write.
In brief:
- I spent much of my trip to England and back watching anime (Zeta Gundam, Full Metal Alchemist, and Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex). Expect more about those soon.
- I also plan to write a full description of the England adventures, including the drunk guy on the flight out, missing my flight back, horrifying British children's programming, Times Square, and reflections on the differences between British and New Yorker hospitality (guess who wins?).
- On the way back, I picked up David Allen's book Getting Things Done, which was very useful. I've begun implementing some of his ideas. Specifically, I've implemented his Tickler File and his idea for keeping a master to-do list organized by context (at work, at my desk, at my computer, around the house, etc.).
- I got my reserved copies of Nausicaa, Porco Rosso, and The Cat Returns at Suncoast today, which marks the last time I intend to buy DVDs there. From now on, I'll just use Deep Discount DVD.
I haven't the time to post any VR story today; hopefully I will tomorrow.
I'm back from a weekend trip to London, as part of a get-together with those involved in the Syllable project. The meeting itself went well, though I missed my flight back and spent all day Sunday in transit, flying first to JFK then to Dulles Airport.
While on the trip, I finished reading Vernor Vinge's excellent space opera A Fire Upon the Deep, and I've posted a short review.
I'm no longer buying anime DVDs at my local Suncoast movie store.
This may seem like a spectacularly boring announcement, but I've been buying anime from one specific Suncoast store for the past six years or so. The vast majority of my anime collection—over three hundred discs—was bought at this store.
I discovered it at a local mall. I liked the store itself, but I was particularly attracted to their anime selection. They actually had an anime selection. Remember, this was about 1998, back when nobody other than Sam Goody stocked anime merchandise (and that was one shelf of VHS tapes).
I went back during the day and found that the employees were gleefully playing Dragonball Z marathons all day. They all loved the show—cheesiness and all—and it had gotten them into anime. Morevoer, they were happy to talk about their favorite anime series.
So I kept going back to this store, scanning their growing anime selection and occasionally buying a disc or two. This grew into four or five discs at a time, and pleased recognition by the employees.
Years passed. Some employees left and new ones arrived, but they were all anime fans at some level. We knew each other.
Then, things began to change. Over the past six months, turnover has increased and new employees came in. Very few were anime fans. Today, only one employee at this store knows anything about anime.
Service began to deteriorate. There were days where only one employee was even in the store. The employees were all nice and helpful but clearly overworked.
Then, starting about two months ago, I stopped receiving phone calls when my reservations came in. I'd go in a week after my reservation was due, and the DVD was sitting on their shelves. Worse, when I presented my reservation slip, they couldn't find the receipt and my reserved DVD.
Fortunately, one of the employees at Suncoast is also working for me at Otherspace Productions, so I've learned their side of the story: A new manager took over the store a few months ago. She immediately changed every process and began scheduling people on crazy shifts. In fact, she booked one high-school employee to work during school hours. All the employees are unhappy and confused by new procedures, which results in sub-par service.
Now, I like every employee at this store. I'd like to support them. But at this point I'll save money and get better service by buying my anime online. At least they'll ship me my anime when it's released.
'Twas going to write a long entry explaining why I'm not supporting my local Suncoast movie store, but it's late and I need sleep. So, here's some more VR story:
Thomas awoke with a start. He spun, twisting the sheets around him so he could see the lean, dark figure standing on one side of the bed, arms folded. It took him a few seconds to recognize it, then he relaxed.
"Doodlehopper," he said. "Why're you...I mean...you...."
She smirked. "No worries," she said, "I'm back. Bodyguarding, I mean." Her grin widened. "And this time, we"ve got some help."
"So, whaddya think?" Doodlehopper asked.
Thomas looked across the bar at the two thugs, who were fingering cups of coffee and trying to look like they weren’t trying to look at Thomas and Doodlehopper. They looked like nervous school children waiting outside the Principal’s office.
He blew out a breath. "I don't see how we can afford to trust them, but then we can't afford not to trust them."
"Exactly how I see it."
"Okay. They're in. But let’s keep an eye on them. I'll try to trust their information, but I won't trust them."
"Heh. I don't trust anybody."
They were quiet for a moment. Thomas looked down.
At Suncoast today, I saw with my own eyes the DVDs for the Disney anime releases of Nausicaa, Porco Rosso, and The Cat Returns. They won't officially be available for purchase until next week, but they do exist and have arrived.
(By the way, I've noticed that the poll isn't working. I'll fix it.)
A good day. I ended up not going to Writer's Group, as I awoke this morning feeling out-of-sorts. It's not illness; more exhaustion. So I spent the evening at home, lazily taking care of a few chats and getting used to RSS syndication via NewsFire. Reading blogs through RSS feels much more efficient than reading blogs via the web. I'm not immediately sure if this is a good thing. I miss the distinct design of each blog's webpage. On the other hand, how important is that?
In any event, I feel good. I feel myself settling into some habits that are good for me: a lot of reading, some drawing, some programming; my toes in a lot of ponds.
Terry Teachout writes that he is an "arts lover." He doesn't love just one kind of art. Moreover, he quotes Clement Greenburg, who wrote that "in the long run there are only two kinds of art: the good and the bad. This difference cuts across all other differences in art. At the same time, it makes all art one....the experience of art is the same in kind or order despite all differences in works of art themselves."
I like that. I think I'm an arts lover.
I didn't mention this, but I had a terrible time waking up last week. I kept sleeping through my alarm and opening my eyes at 10:00 or even later. Combine that with my router adventure last Friday, and I missed a fair amount of work last week.
So I'm making it up this week. I'll probably go to writer's group tomorrow, which doesn't start until 8:00. This is both good and bad; bad because it makes most sense to stay at work until 7:30 or so, but good because it forces me to put in a long day. Tomorrow, it will add a good couple of hours to my normal day at the office.
My new home 'net connection has greatly boosted my work productivity. I used to get in to work and check my mail first thing, merrily replying to friends and skimming through mailing lists. Once I was done, the workday inevitably paled in comparison, and I had very little enthusiasm. Now, I can just concentrate on my work.
In other news, I've been downloading and watching bits of anime from BitTorrent. Specifically:
- Gundam Evolve is a series of short films commemorating major mechs in the Gundam universe. The original series of five films were for the central Gundams in Mobile Suit Gundam, Zeta Gundam, G Gundam, Gundam: 0083, and Char's Counterattack. I watched the ones for Mobile Suit and G Gundam, and they were both quite good. The Mobile Suit film is esssentially a music video in which Amuro awaits take-off in his RX-78, closes his eyes, and dreams of the fights he's been in throughout the series. The G Gundam film begins with a beautiful sequence of the main Gundam performing Tai Chi on the roof of an abandoned building, then proceeds into a typical silly fight sequence. Good stuff.
- Makoto Shinkai is an anime creator, in the sense that he creates anime himself. Completely. He does all the backgrounds, cels, special effects, CGI, coloring, etc. He even does some of the voices. He created the reportedly amazing Voices of a Distant Star (I haven't seen it yet), and I caught his "pilot" (more accurately an extended trailer) for his next work, The Place Promised In Our Early Days. I'm quite impressed; beyond being an interesting SF action/adventure, it's fundamentally beautiful. I'm amazed that, not only does he make anime, he obviously takes the time to make every shot look gorgeous.
- Uninhabited Planet Survive had such a goofy title I had to check it out. I'm still unsure about it; looks like the kind of series that doesn't get really good until about ten episodes in. It's a fairly standard SF drama, starting with an explosion inside some sort of space colony, then a man carrying his young daughter to an escape pod where he pushes her in and stays behind as the colony is consumed with fire. Almost a cliche at this point. Anyvay, she ends up going to an academy where she and a small group of students are apparently accidentally stranded on a wild planet, where they must, um, Survive on this Uninhabited Planet. The weird thing about the show is that the character designs are very rounded and simplified, almost like Digimon's characters. I'm not sure if it works in this sort of context.
- My parents were also kind enough to let me put an anime DVD on their Netflix list. It was Aura Battler Dunbine volume 1, and I watched episode one tonight. This is the series that the Gundam guys made just after Mobile Suit Gundam. It was just about exactly what I expected: a fantasy mech series with old school character designs and strong direction and an already twisty plot. I didn't expect it to move quite so quickly. I suspect that the director had seen Macross (which was released a year earlier) and was incorporating its fast pacing into his directorial style. Dunbine moves much faster than Mobile Suit Gundam, but his next series, Zeta Gundam, moves slower than Dunbine.
The president of Jones Soda writes wonderfully about his views on soda. A few key phrases:
The reality is that consumers don't need our stuff. I don't mean to say that. But when you start thinking that way -- a lot of time, business people, marketers convince themselves that people need their stuff. They're passionate about how you need my new widget. You need it! The fact is, you don't need it! And as soon as you get off the fact that you don't need it you become, in my opinion, you become a better marketer, you get a better understanding of your customer.
My daughter drinks one Jones a week. And I'm good with that. We don't sell two liters. It's a treat. And everybody wigs out on it, saying it causes obesity. It's the fact that you drink 44 fluid ounces of this stuff. 10 years ago the average size of a soda was 12 ounces. Now, the average size is 43 ounces. Well, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to do the math, you morons. So we sell in 12-ounce. That's it. Have a nice soda. If you're going to drink a gallon of soda, you better figure out that that's a lot of sugar.
One year on April Fool's Day we sent a press release saying we were acquired by John Deere. That was hilarious. You sold out man! It was a joke, dude. We spelled Deere wrong. It was one of the funniest things we've ever done. We said they wanted their own weed-flavored soda. We came up with that stuff and people went ballistic. We were getting phone calls: "I can't believe you sold out. You sold out to the big guy." Dude, it was a tractor company.
Now I'm scamming. Companies are paying me to give talks. I think it's a pretty good gig. They'll pay me 10 grand to come talk to them. Maybe if I write a book, I get can that up there more. I do a good job and all the money goes to charity -- so it's not a total scam. So far we've built two schools.
Yay! After a very quiet week, things have quickly accelerated.
I slipped home early Friday afternoon so I could pick up my DSL router, as UPS was delivering it and they absolutely require that somebody's there to pick it up. The little sticker that the delivery person leaves has a series of checkboxes indicating when the delivery person will try again the next day; helpfully, he'd checked both "2:00 to 5:00" and "After 5:00". So I got home at 1:45, and he arrived at 5:45.
But at least I took advantage of that time home to putter around the house, hanging a framed cel that had been sitting around, filling the distressingly empty bird feeder, and scribbling down notes about garden plans. (The secret to garden success is to always be thinking three to six months ahead.)
When the router finally arrived, I decided to spend just fifteen minutes trying to get it set up, knowing that it would take a long time and a lot of wrestling. To my delight, I was online within five minutes. I hooked it up to my Airport Extreme and was online with a wireless internet connection five minutes after that. Wow. Smooth as butter.
I then went to Redemption, where I had a fine time. A friend of mine is in town for about a month, and he was there. Since I'd invited him to Guy's Night Out on Saturday, and he was basically home alone, he made the excellent suggestion of grabbing a ride with me back to my home, and spending the night. Fabulous! So we did, then spent the next four hours watching anime (Mighty Space Miners and Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex). So now it's either very late or very early, depending on your perspective, and I'm very very happy.
Well, I re-installed OS X on my new laptop, and it does seem to be working smoothly thus far. I'm generally pleased with it. Moreover, it's been an excellent test of my backup procedures. I wiped the hard drive and was back up pretty much like before within a few hours.
Otherwise, I've been watching more Zeta Gundam, which has officially reached the point where I'm disappointed when I have to stop watching it. The plot has begun moving in interesting directions, and for once a Gundam series is spreading significant deaths throughout the series. The show is also beautifully animated. It was made in 1985, three years after the release of Macross, and the influence is clear. The mechs are animated in a more flashy, exciting way, as is appropriate for a combat action show.
I took my laptop back to the Apple Store on Sunday, and kind of wimped out. I described the bugs I've encountered—the CD drive disappeared, the latch won't open at times, preferences won't stick—and the techs investigated. I should have just asked them to replace the unit. They were pretty confident it was a bad OS install, and suggested I reinstall the OS from scratch.
So, I'll see if I can find the time this weekend to do that. Everything's backed up, so it shouldn't be a complicated process. But...arg, I have to reinstall my OS and hope that it works. I'd hoped to put that behind me when I switched to the Mac.
Anyvay. Today went pretty well at work. It went even better when I checked my personal e-mails and discovered that some of my job hunting paid off. I shot out my resume for two jobs on Sunday, and one place is quite interested; they wanted my resume in another format and verified a potential salary amount.
Honestly, I don't want to leave NLX/Rockwell Collins STS, where I work now. I'm doing this mainly because I want to move to a different part of the organization, but my boss' boss is reluctant to do so. I'm hoping that, if I have a job offer in hand, I can gently convince him to move me. If not, well, I can always take up the job offer. Heck, the e-mail I received today offered me more money than I'm making now.
I've started writing a new short story, this time a science fiction piece set in a space opera universe. The story itself is an adventure about a married couple who have to fight off a bunch of crazies to track down some missing data sitting in the center of an abandoned factory ship. I'm challenging myself to add lots of atmosphere to this story, as that's something I usually don't do in my first drafts.
I also started drawing again today. It felt good to be back into it. I just practiced copying a magazine photo. The drawing looked pretty poor, but I expected that for my first drawing. Now to improve....
Here's how my to-do list worked out last week: I had fifty-nine items on my list, of which I completed twenty-nine (about half). I couldn't complete two items.
Most of the things I couldn't complete were those daily tasks that I've found I'm poor at completing daily. So, I've set up next week's task list so that I'll do them less often, but for longer periods of time.
The Otherspace Productions meeting today went well; we enjoyed ourselves generally. The matrix experiments lain animation is honestly almost done with principal production. Now I need to talk to our storyboard artist and find out how much of the next animation's storyboard she's drawn. Once she's done drawing that, we can have the big kick-off meeting for it, and start production on it.
And this is why I love Terry Teachout's theater criticism columns in the Wall Street Journal:
The best-laid plans of mice and men....
My recent illnesses have reminded me of my childhood allergy to dust mites, and suggested that my allergy has perhaps not dissipated with the passage of time. So, I decided to buy a dehumidifier.
According to WalMart.com, Wal-Mart sells half a dozen brands of dehumidifier. After work, I stopped by my nearest Wal-Mart and spent half an hour wandering its aisles. They didn't have any. None at all. The two employees I asked waved me in different directions, completely uninterested in helping me actually find what I was looking for.
I got home to a snow-covered walkway. Actually, the snowfall itself was gorgeous; big, fat flakes drifting down from the sky and covering just enough of the ground to return the countryside to postcard prettiness, without covering the roads. But that meant I had to clear the snow from the sidewalk (our association tells us to clear sidewalks within twelve hours of a snowfall).
So, once I'd cleared the walkway, it was already 8:00 and I was tired. Didn't get much done today as a result. I basically just watched the MST3K episode "Red Zone Cuba" and munched on store-bought chocolate chip cookies.
But even this was good; I need a break now and then.
VOTE! On the right. It's a poll, and it's just over there. No, on the right.
'Twas a good day, overall. I kept a time journal at work, which kept me productive, and I managed to do almost everything on my to-do list (the only thing I've failed to do is practice Japanese, and that's because I can't find my Japanese book).
In particular, I finally finished proofing that novel. Boy, that was a big job. It was a pretty good book, too; it just required a lot of concentration. I couldn't just read; I had to concentrate on every word.
So I decided that, once I was done proofing, I'd return to drawing. I'd like to get some practice a couple of times a week. Nothing special. Once I get used to it, I'd even like to post something every week. Not necessarily a comic; that'd be too much. Maybe just a few panels of a comic every week. I could always make something like tailsteak.tk.
As I mentioned in another entry recently, I've realized that I don't do well with daily tasks. They get repetitive. I can do some of them, like writing these journal entries, but only the ones I find deeply, personally enjoyable. Other tasks just don't give me the same immediate satisfaction.
For example, I tasked myself with writing a bit of fiction every night, and have utterly failed at that for days. But part of that is because of my frustration with writing only a little bit of fiction at a time. It takes a little time to get into the flow of writing, and when I'm writing only a little bit, I can never get into the flow.
So, I think I'll write a few times a week, and draw a few times a week. And hopefully I'll be able to keep that up.
I mean, wouldn't it be cool if I could maintain a bunch of skills and projects all at once? Imagine if, in any given week, I made real progress on short stories and animations and comics and software development and home renovations and learning another language.
And now, more VR story.
She felt unexpected wetness moisten the corner of her eyes as she asked, "'S there any way I can back out of this?"
He shook his head. "I must kill you."
"I could say I'm not guardin' him anymore."
He shook his head again, as certain as the grave. "You may be attempting deceit." He paused, as if weighing whether to continue. "To me, you are already dead."
The fear grew and shifted into rank hatred of herself, for her weakness. This was not what it was supposed to be like. She never acted like this. She was Doodlehopper, always fearless, always copping an attitude.
Until she saw her death hovering behind a man's naked blade.
Her instincts ripped her back to reality, to the man staring at her behind his sword. She realized suddenly that he had been watching her this whole time. He could have attacked at any time and overwhelmed her, and he was so good he had to have seen her fear and lack of focus.
He saw her surprise and said, "I will not do you the dishonor of killing you when you are, eh...unarmed?" He sounded uncertain about his choice of words; she nodded grimly.
And she dropped her bokken. She slowly put her arms to her collarbone, and with a voice so even she surprised herself, she said, "You'll have to kill me unarmed."
He was silent for a moment, then chuckled. "If that is your destiny. I am not as honor-bound as all that. I will still kill you; you have made it suicide."
He raised his blade and rushed her. She knew what she had to do; she didn't have time to notice the fear welling up inside her. One hand slipped into her jacket and gripped a tazer as she leaned to one side, his blade hissing past her as her arm struck out like a viper.
He convulsed, striking his sword against her outstretched arm and collarbone, hard but not enough to cause much pain. She leaned her weight onto him, keeping the tazer on him until his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground, the sword clattering to the floor.
She looked down at her arm and chest and grimaced. His well-trained wrist muscles had beat the blade into her arm. Her shoulders were in worst shape, as they'd born the brunt of his attack. Her shirt now hung in several ribbons, and blood ran in long red streams down her arm.
So she felt no shame when she closed her eyes and let herself shake and cry.
Eek! I'm almost at the end of what I've written.
As I type this, I'm sitting in my back yard, digesting a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of lemonade (all home-made, no less), looking out at the jumbled mulch that now hides the fifty or so daffodil bulbs I planted earlier this afternoon. I feel almost ashamed that I'm ever sorry for myself.
Now that I've had some time to think about last night's incredible dinner with T, I can actually write something coherent about it. It was wonderful, and not just because I had a good time. T was personally encouraging to me about my writing and my chances.
And fortunately I agree with his views. He said that I should expect to (A) fail, and (B) endure the harshest criticism. And that that really doesn't matter, and doesn't affect your chances of ultimately succeeding. People have ripped T to pieces over some of his creative choices, despite his obviously amazing writing skills.
He was also reassuring. I expressed concern over my relative inexperience with comics; as I put it, "I haven't been reading Green Lantern since I was eight." He replied that that's not really all that much of a handicap, and might be more of a strength, really. Too many comic readers are too invested in the tropes of the genre.
Meanwhile, a few links: Brad Bird talks about his career, from Disney to The Iron Giant to The Incredibles (and makes me slightly more sympathetic towards WB Film Animation). I really like what I see of Patrick Smith's animations.
I don't normally like CGI. It looks too stiff and too generated; surfaces feel harsh and hyper-real. Indeed, it's all about the feel of it. I don't like how CGI feels.
But Andrew Hickinbottom's work gives me hope that there's a good future in CGI. He's created CGI that looks like animations of clay figurines. Very pretty, and it has a style that feels more natural than typical CGI's harshness.
Hmm. That makes it seem like I hate CGI. I don't; it just normally feels off to me.
I honestly can't feel bad right now, as I just got back from dinner wtih T. Campbell, who graciously talked for two and a half hours about the comics industry and my chances of getting Red Ax published (online or otherwise). What an incredibly great guy to do that.
In other news, my gallery is now officially back online, though I still need to clean up a few bits and pieces. But at least you can browse everything in their correct categories and such.
Posted here so I won't forget to browse it at my leisure later: The Official Alex Toth Website, featuring a whole lot of artwork from a classic comic artist.
A few years ago, I had an idea for a story called Red Ax, which I excitedly hashed out with Saalon. Unfortunately, it was a comic book story with anthropomorphic characters, and since I couldn't draw and didn't know any comic book artists, I shelved it.
About a year ago, I wanted to write, and that comic book idea floated into my head. So I sat down and wrote an eleven-page script that introduced one of the protagonists. Then, since I couldn't draw and didn't know any comic book artists, I shelved it.
A few months ago, as I was working with my animators on Matrix Experiments Lain, I noticed in her portfolio that she was drawing some amazing anthropomorphic characters. So I talked to her about Red Ax and sent her the script, and she agreed to try drawing the characters. Here's what she drew:
Isn't this amazing?
It gets better.
One of my favorite comic book writers is a fellow named T. Campbell, whom I know almost exclusively through Fans!, an amazing character-based story about SF/F fans. I've traded a few e-mails with him, and ended up helping him with some of his SF Blog entries.
At the end of one of his e-mails, I noticed that he listed his address. I blinked and re-read it. That address is less than twenty miles from my townhouse. T. Campbell lives practically next door to me!
Meanwhile, I have this emerging work of beauty on my hands in the form of Red Ax. I want to figure out how to get this in front of readers, such that it doesn't get lost in a galaxy of online comics or resigned to a print run of twelve copies.
Well, T. Campbell lives practically next door to me.
So I e-mailed him with a plaintive plea for advice. He kindly responds—the same day, no less—and before I know it, he's agreed to have dinner with me this Tuesday.
So I'm having dinner with T. Campbell on Tuesday, to talk about this oddball story idea I came up with a few years ago and figure out how to publish it.
Life really is weird.
Here's what I did this evening:
That's the new herb border I planted just outside my back door. The planter full of dirt was there when I moved in, and though it clearly hadn't been used in awhile, the soil was in reasonably decent shape. I dug in two bags of potting soil yesterday, then bought some herbs today and planted them. I've got spearmint, parsley, oregano, and thyme, those all being herbs that I actually use in cooking.
I had a pretty productive day, overall. Work wasn't very exciting; the highlight was my lunch with Dad, during which we chatted pleasantly about a variety of subjects, mainly the stuff we're working on. But I also managed to finish the first draft of my February short story (which gives you an idea of how far behind I am in my writing plan), practiced Japanese, and reviewed some Syllable source code.
By the way, thanks to everyone for your comments on my recent depression and soul-searching. They've all been nourishing food for thought.
I think one of the reasons I was more productive today was the fact that I wrote out my goals in specific detail yesterday. Instead of "Draw", I wrote, "Draw twenty human figures" (so I can get better at drawing people). When I looked at my to-do lists today, I also reviewed my goals, and found myself much more motivated by seeing what I actually want to accomplish in the medium- to long-term, instead of just a bunch of little immediate tasks. It's a significant psychological boost.
And now, a bit more VR story:
She smiled shyly, in that way that he found so blasted pretty. Inconvenient just at the moment he was struggling to negate any romantic interest.
"Anyway," he said, struggling to remember his point, "I can change. I want to change. I think I'm about to change." He grinned. "And I'm going to need somebody to kick my rear into doing it when I change my mind. Deal?"
She grinned right back and extended her hand. "Deal."
Karl turned to Kino and whispered excitedly, "They're shaking hands. I think we're good!"
The next few weeks were a blur. Doodlehopper dragged Thomas through the muddy streets of Thailand, making him sit in dark, spare rooms in which the air was heavy with incense, as she traded taut sentences with lean, hard men. They spent thirty-six harrowing hours chasing a lead through the overstuffed hills of Hong Kong before he disappeared completely. They spent almost a week in overcrowded basements in Norway, trading in a few favors for unfettered access to the secret undergrounds of the 'net, where nearly everything was known by somebody, and everything else could be found for a price.
Thomas and Doodlehopper were sharing the detective work, each using their own methods and, after each little success or failure, collaborating on the next best move. Kino and Karl played back-up, setting up hotel rooms or flights, finding safe places to eat, and generally being the oddest concierge service any of them had ever seen.
Thomas was on his feet for most of each day. This would have been difficult enough for his weak muscles, but Doodlehopper had begun sparring with him the first day. For hours every day, she led him through stances and mock battles, charging at him and jabbing him with her fists and feet. She never attacked hard enough to really hurt him, and her mood was always one of gentle patience. But after three days, his muscles were screaming. Two days later, he woke up so sore he honestly thought he was going to die.
I need to grow up. I've been implementing the "Getting Things Done" productivity system. It's helped me in some ways, but I'm still not very productive in the evenings. I may accomplish one or two little tasks—cleaning the bathrooms, writing a bit—but that seems marginal considering that I have a good two or three hours per night to do things. I'm sure that this is at least partly due to maturity. I get home, and I relax for awhile, and then my inner ten-year-old whines, "I don't wanna do anything except lay here on the couch and surf the web!" To some extent, I realize the importance of recognizing that as a legitimate physical response. If I feel tired, maybe that's because I'm tired. On the other hand, often I do have the energy to do things; I just can't bring myself to do them. I'm not physically tired; I just can't get up the gumption to do much of anything. Which raises an interesting question: How can I grow myself up? I'm willing to train myself to be more mature. But how do I do that? On further thought—and I can tell this is going to be an update that wanders without any satisfactory shape—I wonder if I just don't want to make a choice. I do dislike making choices. Taking the road less traveled means that I can't experience the more-traveled one. Sometimes, I can hear the voice in the back of my mind whispering, "If you just put this off a little while, you may be able to make a better decision later!" But of course, that's almost never true. Time gives us experience, yes, but it also gives us greater complexity. I may be more informed tomorrow...but I'll also have more to do (because something else will need to be done then). I don't fear failure. I fear that success will keep me from experiences other than that particular success. Or maybe I have a completely different issue, and I'm barking up the wrong tree. (Speaking of trees, the photo that accompanies this entry shows a tree near work. It looked interesting to me, a stark, bare tree against the rolling grey clouds. Very atmospheric.) I just got my art gallery back online; it's been non-functional for awhile. The site is still very basic, but you can at least browse my poor attempts at art. Didn't get much sleep last night—about six hours, and I never do well on less than eight—so I've been a little spacy all day. Awake, but unable to really concentrate on anything. Fortunately, I was able to complete a few things at work, and had dinner at my parents' followed by a showing of Shanghai Knights, which I think is one of Jackie Chan's better movies, and certainly one of the best of his later work. The photo on the right shows a sausage and mushroom pizza I made on Saturday. It's a "white" pizza, meaning that there's no tomato sauce. It's just a Boboli crust topped with cheese, hot Italian sausage pieces, onion, and mushroom slices (with sprinkles of rosemary and hot pepper flakes), baked for twenty-five minutes, then topped again with cheese just after it's removed from the oven. That's it. Easy, inexpensive, and delicious. Spicy, too; you'll want a glass of something cold to go with it. Spotted this last week, growing next to my front walkway: I planted that flower myself, last fall. Now I'm going to admit something that will probably alienate all fifteen of my readers: I really like to garden. Oddly, I don't have the reasons that I typically read about; I don't love the feel of soil in my hands. Soil's dirty. It's essentially dry mud. But I do love beautifying a space. I can take a butt-ugly landscape and make it pretty, a place where people actually want to spend their tiime. Very rarely do we get a chance to consciously make something look good. It reminds me of a sermon I heard once, in which the speaker suggested that humans have essentially two great callings: To make things beautiful, and to keep things beautiful. Creation and maintenance. I think he was right. And no, I don't have a strong ending for this entry. That's it. I tried something new tonight: I gave myself a couple of hours to goof off after I got home, expecting to get some things accomplished afterwards. I hoped that the rest would recharge me with enough energy to get me through a few hours' worth of personal duties. It worked: I had no problems cleaning, paying bills, and finishing this week's updates to Matrix Experiments Lain. Excellent! I goofed off by watching Godzilla's Revenge, a truly awful Godzilla movie about a whiny kid who dreams he can travel to Monster Island and see Godzilla and company duke it out. So half of the movie contains decent Godzilla fights, while the other half follows this kid around his mundane life in Tokyo, being picked on by a local gang of older kids and acting morose because his parents work so much. Of course, there's a Big Adventure: a couple of incompetent bank robbers kidnap him, and he has to escape. He uses a few of the tricks he learned from his dreams to outwit and outfight the crooks and run to safety. But the really intriguing thing about the film is the end. The boy is shown going back to school the next day, and on the way he's surrounded by the gang (who previously dared him to honk the horn on a bike belonging to a painter nearby). Our hero promptly rams the leader of the gang and fights him, finally winning the fight. The hero then runs over to the same bike and honks the horn, causing the painter to fall over in surprise and get paint all over himself. The hero then runs off, where he's joined by the cheering gang of kids, and they all run off into the sunset. I blinked. The heck kind of ending is that, where the hero ends up essentially joining a street gang? But after thinking about it for awhile, I realized that the kid had triumphed by finding a way to be part of the larger social group. He was no longer an individual outcast; now he belonged to a group. It fits perfectly with Japanese ideals of conformity to a larger social structure. Obviously, I don't want to read too much into an overtly silly Godzilla movie. But I can't think of any other way to understand the ethics of that ending. In other news, I've put together another audioblog anime review. The one comment I received about my previous review lamented at being unfamiliar with the series being reviewed. So, this time, I'm reviewing the first disc in the series: Gantz volume 1. I'm actually rather proud of this review; I'm not as hesitant as I was in the previous review. It helped that I had a list of questions on the screen, which I was answering as I spoke. As before, let me know what you think. I'm battling a mild bout of depression. As usual, it's fueled by things that seem both reasonable and trivial. This morning, as part of my quest to get more energy, I went out for a short jog around the neighborhood and nearby park land. By "park land," I mean small strips of land that has grass and trees on it. The "Brandon Park" nearby is a strip mall-sized rectangle of grass studded with a few lonely trees and a stream. Anyvay. The jog has left me exhausted all day, achieving the precise opposite of my intended goal. I know, I know; I haven't been exercising regularly, so my body isn't used to it. I just need to exercise more frequently. But my Left Brain rebels at the paradox. Consequently, I achieved little tonight. I managed to incorporate the latest changes into Matrix Experiments Lain—a long-overdue task—after watching Something Wicked This Way Comes. Something Wicked is a wonderfully spooky film, though it suffers from horrid editing. The characters are spliced together in confusing ways, so that in one shot they're looking in one direction, then in the next they're looking elsewhere. Ugh. But the atmosphere perfectly captures Bradbury's unique mood—dark, spooky, melancholy, exhilaration twinged with sadness—and it's a great little fright-fest. But I'm stil not doing as much as I'd like to do with the time I have. I feel like, if I have a couple of hours in an evening, I should be able to get a good couple of hours' worth of things done—writing, drawing, whatever. Instead, I work for maybe half an hour. Still. I watched a cool little movie and worked on my animation. Life could be a lot worse. (I'm also trying to wrap my head around some Otherspace Prodcutions accounting issues. What a headache. I wish I'd hired an accountant earlier. I still want to, but it's an intimidating step, as I've clearly made some mistakes and I don't want to look like a fool by showing those mistakes to a professional.) And now, finally, more VR story: "I'm sorry," he said. She looked away, as though unwilling to commit to a reply. "I was a jerk. I do need your help, and I was stupid to blow you off like that." He paused. "No, not just stupid. Stuck up. "Look. I have an ego as big as the 'net. All my life, people have warned me about that. It's...it's why I don't have many real friends. Any real friends, really." Her eyes were on his now, her face radiating sympathy and wonder at his admission. He was still looking down, his features taut with the strain of confession. "I don't like that about myself, but I've never been able to change it. I think...I think I never really had a reason to change. I could always blow it off, or return to the 'net where a big ego is an asset. But...now...." His eyes returned to hers, the penitent gaze of a man seeking redemption. "Now I have a reason to change. Because of what's happening. And...because of you." She took a step back, and for all her concern, her face wore the mask of a teenaged girl who'd been the object of too many mens' desperation. "Not like that," he hurried to reassure her. "I'm not confessing my love here. But I am indebted to you. You've shown me how I can be. You're...my inspiration." Come on, say it with me: Awww.... I'm almost finished writing a story that I want to present to my writing group tomorrow night. Unfortunately, the story refuses to finish itself. It's an odd situation, in a way. I want to finish it, but I can't make myself do it. It's like Murray—my Muse—has stepped out of his smoke-filled little office and just won't come back. What causes a writer to find himself unable to finish a story? I can certainly envision possible endings. I just can't seem to find the mental energy to get those words on paper. Or is it that? Do I have some kind of mental block that's keeping me from writing? This looks odd, but I often worry that I worry too much. Seriously. I think that I may just get so afraid of writing the wrong thing that I don't want to write anything. Worse, it's not a conscious fear; I just begin to doubt myself so much that I lock up. Doubt is a good thing; without it, I'd write nothing but pap and never improve. I just need to figure out if I'm actually doubting myself now, or something else is at work. And if I am doubting myself, how do I switch that off? Man. Writing's hard. I am feeling better now. The symptoms are at about 50%, and my energy is back to about 90%. It helps that I walked this morning. I've been trying to find ways of increasing my energy. Surprisingly, I couldn't find any websites that dealt with increased energy. There are plenty of health sites that deal with overall "wellness" and "fitness," but I couldn't find as much as a single page on "How to increase your overall energy level" (obviously, consuming a few cups of sugar would do it temporarily; I'm talking about an overall strategy). I mentioned this to my parents, and we agreed that it's the same as it's always been: you need diet and exercise. I eat well, but I haven't been exercising as much as I'd like. I pointed out that I don't like to run on cold mornings. Dad replied simply, "Walk." And he was dead-on right. I need to at least get some exercise, and if that's all I can get, so be it. So I walked this morning, and sure enough, I have a good amount of energy today. Meanwhile, AOL has changed its instant messaging Terms of Service so that it now retains the right to re-broadcast anything you send over AIM, to anyone at any time and in any form. More information. This makes me want to abandon iChat and find an ICQ client for my Macs. And on a totally unrelated note, below is a graphic showing some of the cartoons showing now on the BBC. Hey, who's that on the far right? It's an old friend. Still sick, but to quote Monty Python, "I'm getting better!" Which explains the journal blackout since Thursday. I actually have very little to report, too, since I've spent the past two days in bed, reading blogs and Newgrounds, and watching bits of anime. Which anime, you ask? Two, really: One episode of Legendz and one episode of Berserk. I have little interest in "fighting monsters" shows, but Legendz is directed by one of my favorite anime direcxtors, Akitaroh Daichi (Kodocha, Now and Then, Here and There, Fruits Basket), who has an amazing comedic sense and almost always combines real human drama with his comedy. Legendz...well, I'm not so sure about. I rarely judge an entire series based on the first episode alone—too many excellent series had mediocre first episodes. Legendz was certainly funny, and it had a great Anime Moment near the end (which the director promptly turned on its head for comedic effect). But it was just so spastic, it felt like it was trying too hard. Dunno. Berserk...now that was plain funny. Oh, it's not intentional; it's all about a Dark Hero who has to fight for Justice in a Dark Land. But it's so over-the-top that it's laughable at times. In the first episode, we're shown the token local ruffians who are terrorizing a barmaid. They terrorize her for four solid minutes. Ya think they could've made their point in two? But it's a fun fantasy action series. I enjoyed it more than Lodoss. Meanwhile, here's what my leg looks like (warning: slightly graphic). I'm home sick today, so I'm cruising the blogosphere (I hate that term!) and finding various cool links. Here's what Yahoo! looked like ten years ago. And Microsoft provides Key points for learning leetspeak. No, really, that's the actual title. A government site warning about the dangers of rollovers in SUVs. Boring, right? The creators decided to create big, Bantha-like creatures called Esuvees and relate the safety issues of driving an SUV to the safety of riding an Esuvee. The resulting website is engaging and fun. And here is a video of Steve Jobs introducing the Mac back in 1984. A very early Stevenote. He's wearing a TUX! And here's something that causes stops and blank stares: a car hanging from a power line. Who needs modern art exhibits? In comic form! In other news, here's Raph Koster's keynote speech at the 2005 Game Developers Conference, in which he posits that "fun" is a fundamental human response to learning patterns and necessary for human survival. Been watching a lot of anime lately. Hayao Miyazaki's first original work was a little-known TV series named Future Boy Conan, a post-apocalyptic environmental adventure story. I've been watching the first few episodes, and it's been interesting to watch. Miyazaki is a genius now, and in Conan his genius is hinted at. But, really, it's only hinted at. I expected an obscure work of brilliance, but thus far it's "merely" a strong adventure tale thus far. Of course, I'm still only four episodes into it. Meanwhile, I have to admit: I don't like Fullmetal Alchemist. Not that I hate it. I just don't find it particularly engaging thus far, two episodes in. The main character's a punk and his brother's a pacifier. The world looks like a fantasized version of Trigun's, and the characters' main secrets are revealed in the first episode. I don't like the characters, really. I could live with the rest, but unless the brothers get much more sympathetic soon—and they've already played the "paying for a tragic mistake" card—I'm going to have to pass on this show. I may even sell the DVD, which I've only done a handful of times. Why spend my time on a show I don't like when I could spend more time with, say, Zeta Gundam, which just improves with each episode? Oh, I have my quibbles with it, but they're quibbles. I suspect that the most recent plot twist is an attempt to make the main character more relevant. See, about ten episodes in, Amuro Ray (the protagonist of the original Mobile Suit Gundam) enters Zeta's plot. And the problem with that is that he's a much more interesting character than Kamille, Zeta's supposed protagonist. Amuro was always a bit of a bit of a spoiled kid. In contrast to Evangelion's Shinji, who is more of an average depressed teen, Amuro is a privileged boy who's spent most of his life tinkering around with robotics. He's frankly unused to work. Much of his character development in Mobile Suit Gundam revolves around his growing acceptance of his responsibilities. Once Zeta rolls around, seven years after the end of Mobile Suit Gundam, Amuro's slid back somewhat. He's nowhere near as whiny as he was at the beginning of MSG, but he's living comfortably in a large estate under the watchful eye of the Earth Federation, and he can reasonably start making excuses for his natural passivity. Of course, the story of Zeta forces Amuro out of his comfortable little shell (though it would have been interesting if he'd remained there and directed things secretly from afar), and he joins the main cast. Kamille, on the other hand, has largely come to accept his responsibilities. He's a pretty stable character now, which was a wise story decision on the creators' part—the fans don't want to see Amuro's progression all over again. But because he's so stable, Amuro's conflict—Do I want to fight again?—is much more interesting than anything going on in Kamille's life. So they added something to Kamille's life. In this case, it's the beautiful enemy pilot Four, whom Kamille meets essentially by chance. They almost immediately fall in love, which conveniently sets up opportunities for pain and tragedy for both of them, as they're forced to fight each other. To the creators' credit, this romance does not feel contrived; even Kamille and Four aren't sure if this is really love. They at least have a strong chemical reaction, like two high schoolers meeting by chance at a dance, and talking the night away, and afterwards thinking about each other over and over. Of course, it's too early to tell whether this is a stunt, or another step in Kamille's character development. If this is integrated with the rest of his storyline, I'll accept it without reservation. The show is that good. I meant to only spend fifteen minutes on this thing, and spent over an hour tweaking it. Still, it was good experience. "This thing" is an experiment of mine, an audio review of Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex DVD 4. Download the mp3 (8:03, 7.3 MB) and let me know what you think. Would you like me to do this again? As always, I welcome all criticism. I recognize that I pause often when I'm speaking. I wonder how I can change that.... ...And in other news, I've just updated my list of anime owned. It's current now, except that the listings of what I have and haven't seen isn't up-to-date. Well. I've had quite a time recently. Two weeks ago, I lost my DSL signal. This was not a huge surprise to me, as I've read too many horror stories of cable/DSL/satellite service that fails and remains unresolved despite hours on hold for tech support and a parade of repairmen (repairpersons?). The day my signal died, I called Earthlink, and the nice lady on the phone eventually promised to have it looked into. That took some doing, though, as she had a very thick accent and asked me to do oddball things, like take my DSL modem outside and plug it into the phone box. I pointed out that there was no place to plug in my modem to power out there, at which point she sputtered and asked me to try something else. Strange. A few days passed, and I still had no service. I placed a couple more calls, each time dealing with a wonderful, helpful rep who knew what he was talking about and ran through as many tests as he could. Each time, he said they'd run tests, which they apparently did, as each time I called they had more information. Then, I tried power-cycling the modem, and the modem completely died—no lights at all. So I called a tech and reported this. We did some troubleshooting, and we managed to figure out that A) I had no dial tone whatsoever, and B) my modem was fried. He promised to send out a repairman (repairperson?) to fix the line and ship me a replacement modem by second-day delivery. So. The Verizon repairperson arrived and tested both my box and the local switch, and determined there was a fault in the line leading to my house. He said he'd call to have somebody take care of it that day. I went to work, and when I came back...dial tone! Thanks to some instructions left by the previous tech support rep, I was able to at least use dialup to get online. The replacement modem arrived a few days later; I plugged it in and everything worked as smooth as butter. It took two weeks, but every tech support rep was cheerful and helpful, and it was resolved with minimal aggravation (or intimations that I was the problem). So that was a bit stressful, especially as I'd built up a big list of things to do online now that I was online, and I couldn't do any of it for two weeks. Then, this past weekend, I hosted a party for some friends, which as I mentioned yesterday, lasted fourteen hours, from 4:00 p.m. on Saturday to 6:00 a.m. on Sunday. I had to prepare food for it, of course, which took up all of Saturday, then after the last guest left I crashed into bed, only to wake up just in time to head to the Otherspace animation meeting (we're chugging along there nicely). Then I got home and my parents stopped by, so I entertained them before crashing into bed again. Tonight's been the first opportunity I've had to really catch up, particularly with chores like laundry. But you know what? I'm happy. I exercised, which gave me energy, and I managed to get quite a few things accomplished. And I live in a nice house, in a nice neighborhood, with good friends and a well-paying, interesting job. That sounds trite. But I've been reading about some modern-day horrors lately—which I won't relate because why depress you?—and I truly feel grateful for my life right now. Have you ever wanted a personal advisor? Not a therapist—somebody to whom you could turn and say, "I'm in the mood for a good modern novel. What would you recommend?" Their advice mightn't always be perfect, but they'd serve a vital need to sort through the chaff of everyday life. Head Butler seeks to serve this need. Every day, there's a new essay about New Good Stuff or Great Old Stuff, as the Butler puts it. Yeah, it's at least partly a gimmick, but it's also a philosophy. I've signed up for the newsletter, and am curious to see just what it's like. I am going to write a summary of the past few weeks. Really. When I get some time. It's just that, after the party, I slept for six hours until noon, then went to animation (where things are moving swimmingly), then entertained my parents. I should have some spare time on Monday to compose a reasonable summary, or something. It's 6:25 a.m., and I just concluded a fourteen-hour party at my house. ...Cool! If you don't know anime, this will probably be lost on you. However, Real Otaku Heroes features half a dozen fall-over-laughing mp3 "commercials" saluting "the various otaku heroes that we have encountered over the years," including Mr. Pirated Anime Goods Seller, Mr. Female Character Cosplayer, Mr. Harem Anime Inventor, Mr. Self Insert Fanfiction Writer, Mr. Shoujo Anime and Manga Fan, Mr. Anime Fanservice Inventor, and Mr. Pocky Snack Inventor. Okay. The DSL modem arrived yesterday, and as expected, it set itself up perfectly. I'm back online. Unfortunately, I'm going to be quite busy over the next few days, so I probably won't be able to write much here. Why? I'm hosting a party on Saturday, which I'll be making much of the food for. Honestly, I'm tempted to just buy all the food pre-made, but I like providing home-made food for people. It makes the party feel that much more special. Anyvay. That'll take up most of Saturday, then Sunday we're going to have an Otherspace Productions meeting. Hmmm. Actually, I might just go there long enough to get the latest work from people, then come home. I don't like the idea of cramming a weekend full of activities; it doesn't allow me to rest, which is one of the things weekends are for. Sorry for the radio silence; I've been effectively offline for the past seven days, thanks to a combination of a fault in the phone line and a dead DSL modem. I should be back online by the end of the week, at which point I hope to write more here about everything that's been going on in my life. Briefly: Lots of new anime seen, big changes at work, and thoughts on a wide variety of StUFF. I helped my renter move in last night. It was a strange feeling, hauling somebody's stuff into my house, knowing that he'll be living with me for the foreseeable future. Will we drive each other crazy? This is the first time I've really lived with someone. At my last apartment, I was sharing a house with a woman whom I only saw every couple of months. Before that, I was living with my parents, which is a very different experience than living separately. So, this is a bit weird and intimidating. I'm not scared, per se, just weirded out. Intellectually, I know I can handle this. My emotions don't quite agree. Meanwhile, I've posted more VR story, for the first time in a month. I hope to get that back up to speed over the coming months, so I can finally finish the blasted thing. Unfortunately, today's post is the last of what I've written so far, so I need to write quite a bit more to get ahead. My goodness, I'm tired. This is caused partly by my mad dashes around the house, clearing out the other bedroom. Why? I have a renter, finally. A friend from work will be moving in. Um, tomorrow. As of this morning, there were still several boxes, bags, and assorted miscellaney cluttering up the room. So I got all that out, and finally cleaned out the kitchen sink. Oh, shoot; I just remembered that I had a bunch of clothes hanging in that closet; hold on while I retrieve them.... ...back. My bedroom now hosts a pile of clothing slightly smaller than Everest. Much of it will go to goodwill, I think; I really don't need twenty long-sleeved shirts. I also forgot how much mold some of my jackets accumulated; I've been meaning to dry-clean them for the past, oh, six months or so. Still, I feel good that I'm finally getting a renter. That extra $700 (USD) a month will finally give me the room in my pocketbook to buy a few goodies for the townhouse. I've been stretched thin since I moved here (which I knew I would be, without a renter), so I'm looking forward to the easier financial burden over the coming months. I had a rather strange experience this week—I joined a Tae Kwan Do academy, then promptly backed out two days later. That may seem strange, and it is, really, but I have my reasons. My 2005 New Year's Resolution was to investigate and take up a martial art. I've been hemming and hawing about that investigation, until finally on Saturday I simply walked into a local Tae Kwan Do academy. Fortunately, someone there was signing up her daughter for a practice session, so I listened to that conversation and used that info to ask for a practice session myself. On Monday, I went to the practice session, and it was a blast. After the ritual bows, I followed the 20 minute warmup routine, which did an amazing job of stretching my muscles and joints. Afterwards, one of the senior martial artists as well as the head of the academy took me through the basics of the Tae Kwan Do, and I practiced a couple of punches, kicks, and blocks. Afterwards, I made my mistake. I sat down with the grandmaster, who suggested I sign up for a three-year course. This was more than I expected, but rather than tell him that, I simply agreed. I signed a contract and gave him $150. That night, adrenaline coursed through my veins as I anticipated my growing skills. I was extremely excited at the idea. In retrospect, I was overexcited and starstruck. The next day, I began to realize the enormity of my commitment. This was a twice-a-week commitment combined with daily training at home. Considering all the other projects on my plate, was this wise? That night, I explained my misgivings to Saalon, and based on his advice, I decided to back out and look around a bit more. This lead to greater anxiety on my part, as I dreaded explaining this to the grandmaster. This evening, I went to the academy and explained myself to the office manager. She was thoroughly considerate and professional, and processed my cancellation immediately. Unfortunately, they won't refund my first month's fee, though I can use that month in the future if I decide to come back. I feel that I made the right final decision. This was more than I can commit to right now. However, I shouldn't have made the commitment in the first place. I should have told the grandmaster that three years were more than I had anticipated, and that I wanted time to think it over. I should have respected my own pace. Haven't felt like updating in a while, in case that wasn't clear from the dearth of recent entries. Plenty has been going on in my life; I just haven't felt like writing about it. Then again, I've felt a bit out-of-sorts lately. Not depressed; more like that 2 a.m. feeling of having wool between your ears. And I've found that I only feel like writing when I'm in either a good mood or a very bad one. Since I've felt neither lately, I haven't updated the site. I was recently inspired by a conversation with Saalon (interesting how many of my projects start like that) to consider a reorganization of my journal, which might excite me to write more. I'd like to aggregate several projects onto this journal page: the journal itself, the VR story, a recent photo, and perhaps a recent drawing. I'd like a page that looks more like a newspaper about my life. Pictures from a local flower show. Sorry for the radio silence. Been busy, just not felt like writing journal entries. Unexpectedly, I'm very very busy. I went to my parents' house Monday evening, had writing group tonight, will be at a church function Wednesday evening, and will be doing server maintenance and upgrade stuff with Saalon on Thursday. All good things, but time-consuming. Meanwhile, a fascinating link that I would like to investigate further at some later date: the mentat wiki, "a collaborative environment for exploring ways to become a better thinker." FastCompany has an interesting article this month titled, "Change Or Die," which includes this quote: This prompted the front cover text: It's a startling thought. We all like to think that, if the chips are down, and we're faced with tough decisions, we'll make the right choices. But statistically, we don't (at least not when it comes to eating and living healthy lives). Why not? The answer, I think, is the most common one: It Depends. Many times, it's because our poor choices are comforting to us; in a high-stress world of demanding jobs and over-busy households, when you're in line at McDonald's and you know the rest of your day will be full, who wants a salad? Sometimes, we simply don't know how to change; who can find a full half an hour in a day to exercise? I don't think it's laziness, partly because I think that laziness is usually a sign of a deeper psychological issue. I had an instructive dream last week. I dreamt I managed a large dollar store in a strip mall. It was near Christmas; snow was falling outside. Business was good, the employees were busy but happy, and the customers seemed to be in good spirits. Then I heard the buzz of the alarm. I swiveled my head to see a middle-aged woman hurrying out the doors, clutching something to her chest. Everyone carried on with their business; it was just another petty thief, not worth pursuing. Being the manager, I decided to stop her, so I left the store. It was crowded outside, and it took me a minute to find the woman and confront her through the thick falling snow. She had by now hidden her item underneath her coat, and feigned ignorance of my accusation, but when I took her arm and pulled her into an alley, she pulled the stolen item out and started yelling at me that there was nothing I could do about it. Oh yes there was; I could take my merchandise back. We struggled with it and it fell; it was a box of cards which burst open and spilled on the ground. Just at that moment, the woman's grown daughter appeared and acted highly disappointed in her mother, which chastened her. They both left. Here's the instructive part: As I gathered up the cards amidst the falling snow, I realized that I had been away from the store for quite awhile. In that weird stretched time of dreams, it had been close to half an hour. I felt bad, having left the store alone, the employees having no idea where I was and going on without me. When I woke up this morning, I analyzed that dream and recognized that bad feeling. I feel it a lot. That's when I realized: I live a life of regrets. I am forever thinking of activities I could be doing, more efficient ways of accomplishing my projects, and regretting the difference. Now note: There's nothing wrong with thinking up new projects or efficiencies. My error lies in living in pained regret that I'm not doing them. As Alexander Graham Bell once said, "When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us." Well, we got hacked, which explains my absence over the past few days. Things seem mostly back to normal now. More later, when I get the time to actually upload something. Woah! Where have I been lately? Been busy with little things, just generaly life upkeep. I've been reading pretty much every night, and baking cookies, and practicing Japanese a bit. Spent an hour on Wednesday checking fluids in my truck and cleaning it thoroughly. Nothing major. I've been a bit sick lately, too, which doesn't help me get things done. That's why I'm home from work today. I also finished Neil Clark Warren's Date...or Soul Mate? and posted a review to my library. Interesting stuff. Atom is an extremely complicated blog feed format. They've just published a draft RFC that's supposed to explain the Atom format. I've written an Atom feed generator, and I know even less about Atom after reading that RFC. How could they write an RFC that's that difficult to comprehend? And why am I writing about blog feed formats? Because I used to think that visiting each blog had advantages over RSS feeds, so I downloaded an RSS feeder (NewsFire) to prove it. Now I use it every day to read several dozen blogs in the time it used to take me to read ten. RSS has been incredibly useful to me. There are actually two feed formats: Atom and RSS. RSS is simpler, while Atom is more complicated and more flexible. I'm frustrated by Atom's complexity, but I love what you can do with it, and I want to see the Atom working group create a comprehensible, readable standard. They haven't so far. The Otherspace meeting today went well. Almost the entire company showed up, and we had a good time chatting and generally working. Monica's made great strides on Summer Storm and the others are doing well on final touches to Matrix Experiments Lain. It's interesting to observe how we've changed over the past ten months or so. What started as a nervous group just trying to figure out how to animate has turned into a comfortable team. We still have a lot to learn, but we've made amazing progress considering that we started from nothing. And it's been a great experience for me, observing that I really can build something from scratch, and that that something can do real work. Well, I've had a busy couple of days. I'm afraid I have nothing interesting to say, so if you're not interested in a litany of my recent activities, feel free to move on to the next blog. I spent Thusday evening tutoring, which seemed to go well. The goal of my tutoring is to improve my student's ability to write essays for the SAT, and now that he's becoming more used to writing essays, I think I need to concentrate more on the types of essays that the SAT demands. Apparently, these assignments amount to "Blog about how to achieve happiness" and such things, which isn't particularly hard. It's just a matter of getting used to writing about something that isn't based on facts. Friday night, I went over to a friend's house to have a pseudo-Redemption night, though we only played one game of Redemption as well as some Star Wars: Battlefront and a little Neverwinter Nights. I very much need to spend more time playing NWN, so we can play together reasonably. I spent this morning on chores—laundry, cleaning, finances, business taxes—and updated Matrix Experiments Lain with the latest from last week. And that's it. Wish I could have made this entry more interesting, but I'm kind of tired from doing laundry, cleaning, finances, business taxes, and Matrix Experiments Lain. Recently, I had a bit of a problem: I needed to buy a handheld vacuum. Easy, you might say: Stop by Wal-Mart or Target. That's the problem: I don't shop at Target or Wal-Mart. This is not due to a "big companies are evil" mentality; I happily shop at department stores and order from Amazon.com. But both of these companies have done things I find distasteful. The Wall Street Journal has reported memos from senior management, telling stores that if any employee tries to form a union, that employee is to be "made redundant" (e.g., fired) as soon as that can be done without raising eyebrows. That's illegal, besides being nasty and unpleasant. Last Christmas, senior management at Target sent a memo to stores telling them they were to not allow Salvation Army reps in front of their stores, as they "might make customers uncomfortable." Might. They received no complaints; it's just a possibility. What concerns me about these memos is that they seem indicative of the overall style of management at these stores. They're not simply isolated incidents; this seems to be how senior management at these stores normally operate. So, I refuse to buy from them. I went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and found my handheld vacuum there. Consumers have so many choices these days that companies now have to be aware of their behavior. Everyone sends messages. Five years ago, this was inconceivable: The world changes faster than we realize. How does one make oneself change the world? I don't mean to ask how one would take over the world, or push the world in a given direction. I mean: Most people I know have at least one idea, one dream that would change the world. A service to provide, a product to sell, a helping hand to hold out. How does one go about making this actually happen? Because it has start within the self. Nobody else is going to do it, obviously. So how does one make oneself into the person who would do this Great Thing? David Allen suggests that one of the best ways is to identify two things: (1) Exactly what you want to accomplish, and (2) the next physical, real-world action that you need to take to accomplish it. That "next action" might be cruising the web for similar services. It might be a phone call. It might be half an hour of concentrated brainstorming. Whatever, as long as it's something that will move you one step forward towards the goal. And when you're done with that, you can move on to the next action. I tend to agree, and I notice how true it's been with Otherspace. I wanted to make beautiful, life-affirming animation. So, after joking around with a friend about an animation idea, I wrote it down. Then I wrote a detailed script. Then I drew out each shot on paper. Then I called local colleges to see if they could recommend art students who would help me. Then I met with art students and gave them work to do. And suddenly, I was making animation. PointlessWasteOfTime.com has posted an excellent article entitled, A Gamer's Manifesto, listing "20 things gamers want" from game developers. Lots of swearing and stuff, but excellent reading about simply poor design decisions, and a few forehead-slapping obvious solutions to pervasive problems. I saw the completion of two things this weekend: the Star Wars prequels and Mobile Suit Gundam Seed. An interesting juxtaposition. The Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith screening was fun mainly for all the things George Lucas didn't do. SW has become something so far beyond Lucas himself that much of my enjoyment of the films come from the little things created by CG artists or fans. The screening was full of an excited buzz, and when the "Long Time Ago" title came up, everyone cheered and hollered. Throughout the movie, Yoda received several rounds of applause. That made the movie much more fun. And it was little bits of the movie that I really enjoyed, much more so than Lucas' dialogue or plot. Obi-Wan travels to some...planet...or other to track down General Grievous. Okay, fine, whatever. But that lizard thing Obi-Wan rode was an amazing sight, a perfectly realized creature straight from Ray Harryhausen's imagination. Anakin and Obi-Wan are fighting over lava. Okay, great, nicely done. But it's the little worker droid that flies up next to them, takes one look, breeps in alarm and flies away, that sells it. This is not to suggest that the film's plot or actors are poor; everyone does a fine job (though to my surprise, I found Natalie Portman's performance mediocre; she was much better as the leader of a resistance than as a doting wife). But that's all it was: fine jobs. Good work, and all that. It's like a line drawing: the edges define the beauty of the work, not the blank spaces in between. Gundam Seed had similar problems, really. Characters are introduced, then have almost nothing to do for ten episodes, other than exist as characters to cut to and hear their shocked intakes of breath. The story itself is a borrowed collage of early Gundam storylines, which is enjoyable to a point. At some point, I would have liked to see some originality, if just in exploring the consequences of these borrowed plot elements. But if nothing else, Seed demonstrates tremendous respect for its characters. It makes you want certain characters to get back together or have a greater role, then grants those desires as appropriate. Several great characters die, but even their deaths feel right. Death is an important part of Seed and Gundam in general. Characters die. Good characters die. And they tend to die in ways that are important. Very few characters die pointlessly, and even when they do, that's also used to drive the other characters. I'm reminded of a quote by Chiaki J. Konaka: "Just as there is no such thing as a meaningless life, there is no such thing as a meaningless death....[In writing Digimon Tamers,] I felt that we must not treat death itself lightly." But it's the little things. After two important characters are finally reunited and achieve a certain peace with each other, one speaks to the other by having his Gundam's hand clasp the shoulder of the other's Gundam. It's an intimate, brotherly gesture. What a wonderful way to show that these characters had re-connected. All in all, I saw two great endings this weekend. Can't complain. As is typical, I haven't been posting here much mainly because little of note has happened in my life lately. I tend to post more when I'm extremely busy. Saturday was a bit of a downer—my allergies flared up, and while the Otherspace meeting went well, I felt unpleasant throughout it. I then went to Redemption, which was a lot of fun, though I was rather tired for that too. But I started role-playing with a few friends at the tail end of the Redemption meeting. I'm running a game set in a Cowboy Bebop-like world, in which the players are working their way up through the mafia. I'm a scared and excited GM, as I have miniscule experience with tabletop RPGs at all (I only attended half a dozen sessions of one game that never went anywhere), but the other participants have no experience at all, so I'm the natural choice. Everyone seems to be having fun, though. I spent all day Sunday at home, tearing through minor chores (house cleaning, etc.). Experienced the unique frustration of returning a phone call only to realize that I didn't have the appropriate person's phone number stored anywhere (Brennen, in this case). All these storage devices and not one of them "caught" that phone number. Today was extremely quiet at work, which was a nice break. I should get much more work for the rest of the week, and I'm looking forward to that. I don't like being bored, especially when I'm being paid to do something. How would you like a webpage that links to, in total, over one million free mp3s? Here you are. Last night was Errands Night, in which I give up any hope of productivity at home and spend the evening striding down aisles and trying to coax smiles out bored clerks. Really, I do; I look them in the eyes and smile genuinely. Usually, they smile back, though sometimes it's a nervous smile, as though expecting this to be a prelude to my head splitting open and launching a brain-devouring proboscis at them. I don't want to pull them into the abyss of a Conversation With A Complete Stranger (which is a great title for a book); I just want to insert a slightly less boring, slightly more happy moment into their day. Anyvay. I came out of Home Depot with a few things and was metaphorically slapped in the face with a cloud. This Home Depot sits atop a hill that overlooks several miles of town, so most of one's vision is taken up by sky anyway. But this was a huge battleship of a cloud, flared with indistinct tentacles, glowing with a purple aura. Amazing thing. I glanced around at the ten or so people in the parking lot. Nobody else was even looking at the sky. Everyone had their heads down, hurrying to their SUVs (mostly), wrapped up in their own thoughts. How sad. I'm always a little awed by the pervasive optimism of early science fiction art. It's not that they suggested that space travel would be easy, or loads of fun. There were plenty of dangers, and the astronauts were portrayed more often as stoic, serious men than as grinning explorers. But there was a sense in this art that space exploration was a fundamentally good, noble thing. I'm thinking about this because I was directed to Space Art in Children's Books, a wonderful example of what I'm talking about. Sure, some of the details are wildly inaccurate, but then, details often are. What's more remarkable is the pervasive positive tone. It feels as though the artists are whispering, "This may be dangerous, and costly. But it's important." My laptop is back from the shimmering halls of Apple Repair, and the drive now works like a champ, based on a few tests. I inserted Gundam Seed disc 8 as my initial test and was suddenly seized by the icy hand of fear: That's a good disc! What if the drive is still bad? I should test it with throwaway discs, not good ones! Advice I should have listened to before sending the laptop away, because it came back without the disc that was stuck in the drive. It's nowhere in the packing materials. And it's important, too: it's the play disc for Neverwinter Nights. This disc must be in the drive when I play NWN. I don't know what to do, short of calling Apple. Even if I do call Apple, what can they do? "<click> Attention all repair personnel. Would you please check your desks for a Neverwinter Nights CD? Thank you." Even so, I feel that I should call them. Perhaps tonight. By then, the laptop should be restored, as I'm iteratively running my Super Restore script. I ran it first last night, one command at a time, fixing things. When that was done, I found some significant problems (skip the rest of this paragraph if you're uninterested in geeky details). In particular, when you extract a backup, all the files are owned by whoever extracted them. I don't know how to preserve ownership of files within backup files. This is a problem when files are extracted by an administrator user, originally owned by someone else, then a different user tries to execute or access them. My current solution is to change ownership of all applications, animation files, and web files to my primary user account, as that's the user who usually uses everything. In any event, I ran it again this morning, and when I left for work it was still restoring my 13 GB of music. It should certainly be left in a better state than it was before. Yesterday was a fine day. After a quick meal, I looked at the lawn and noticed that it had grown enough to need a quick mow, and I'd just received a new plant in the mail—Zebra Grass, an ornamental, bushy grass that I plan to put in the front of the townhouse. So, I decided I'd spend some time gardening. I mowed the lawn and trimmed various tufts of grass that the lawnmower couldn't reach. I then planted the Zebra Grass, re-filled the bird feeder, and washed my front walkway. And it wasn't even 8:00 yet. So I went inside and grappled with Super Restore, then printed off a short story of mine and mailed it to Realms of Fantasy. I'd like to re-edit another short story in time for writing group in a week, but I don't know if I'll have the time. Saturday saw an incredible Otherspace Productions meeting. The entire studio met at GMU, where I laid out the storyboards and guided the crew through it, explaining each scene and soliciting comments. People had lots of great ideas, and after the initial shock at the scale of an animation five times longer than our previous project, became increasingly excited. The most reserved person was actually volunteering for things by the end. So on the way back, I let out a Howard Dean Yell. This is working! I've built an animation crew. Today was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky, balmy temperature, and occasional breezes just strong enough to swoop into your lungs and remind you that you're alive. I spent much of the day with my Mom in celebration of Mother's Day, wandering her amazing garden and just talking. Had a great time. Got home and took care of a few random things, including more work on Super Restore. Super Restore is the code name for a project that I've been working on for several weeks now. I'm already backing up all my user files and documents. Super Restore will take a compeltely clean computer with just the OS install, and will restore all my user files so that the computer will look exactly like it did when I performed the backup. All my preferences should be restored, too. So today I built a skeleton of the restore script, which will take my backups and restore them onto a laptop. I'm sure there will still be a lot to tweak once I do this. Once I get my laptop back, I want to test this repeatedly, and re-test it every six months or so. I intend to no longer fear even catastrophic computer failure. I should be able to completely restore my total user environment within a few hours of a hard disk erasure. Wouldn't that be cool? I've gained some perspective this week. I took my laptop (Navi) in to the Apple Store on Thursday, to see if they could remove the CD that the laptop insists isn't in the drive. The tech was my ideal; even though he was swamped, he helped everyone as equally as possible, while being consistently and genuinely friendly and helpful. He ran a few tests and promptly agreed that the drive was borked. This meant sending it out for a roughly one week repair, which frustrated me a bit, but I could deal with that. I arrived home to discover a note from UPS. The driver had tried to deliver my copy of OS X Tiger, but I wasn't home. Fair enough; I went home early today just so I could be around when the note indicated the driver would be back. So I checked my e-mail and browse online comics for awhile at home, then went outside...to find another UPS sticker on my door. I was fifteen feet from the door the whole time, in a completely silent house, and hadn't heard a sound. The driver had arrived and just slapped a sticker on my door, without knocking. Worse, this was the final delivery attempt. So I called the phone number listed on the ticket, which told me to check their website. Fine. I went to UPS.com and typed in the tracking number...to which the site responded that it had no information on that tracking number. Great. I re-called the phone number and got through to a live representative (within a minute, too!) who informed me that the package would now be held for five days at a facility about half an hour from my house (though close to work). So I got really frustrated and bummed around the house for awhile. Didn't want to do anything, just sulk. And then it hit me. I was depressed because one of my four computers is out for repair, and the delivery of an OS upgrade that I only plan to install on one of my computers is delayed for a few days, so I'll have to drive five minutes from my house to pick it up. And I started to laugh. Now, I'm good. I got quite a bit accomplished today, too: cleaned house, cleaned my truck and checked fluids, read the Bible (2 Peter and 1 John), and baked a dozen mini apple pies. Not bad. Just climbed into my soft, soft bed after a long talk with my roommate and a night out at writer's group. The writer's group went very well; six of us (out of seven) showed up, and we critiqued bits of two books plus my latest short story. I'm drifting back into a writing phase, too, so I hope to build on the adrenaline rush of this meeting to write a lot over the next few weeks. I'd like to revise my latest short story, rewrite another, and write a lot more of the VR story. Meanwhile, I've been thinking a lot about my productivity of late. I have a huge list of things to do, and I wonder how wise I am to maintain so many projects that I can't quite keep up with all of them. On the other hand, it's my nature to juggle many projects at once. Should I simply reduce my commitments? I don't know; that feels boring. Partly, I wonder if this frustration is due to my rhythms. I rarely progress steadily on my projects; I work on them in phases (as described in the first paragraph of this entry). But that means I'm always roaring ahead in a couple of areas while others languish, so at any given time I feel like I'm doing too much on some projects and not enough on others. Perhaps I simply need to gauge my effectiveness at longer intervals. 43 Folders writes about Your Personal Suck, i.e., "You totally suck at something, and it secretly drives you nuts every g%^d@*ned day." Find something that you really want to improve, and improve it. The personal suck that's been gnawing at me most lately is my lack of discipline on lots of small projects. I remember to clean the house and work on Otherspace, but I don't keep up with practicing Japanese or drawing. I'd like to find ways of integrating those into my daily life. I've thought of rewarding myself for doing these things, but I resist that because of the scale of juggling rewards for half a dozen little daily practices. I'm pretty good at doing things at certain times of the day, though that seems to have reached a practical limit. I can do a bunch of things in the morning before I go to work, but I get home at odd hours. I don't have an easy answer, but I'm contemplating possible solutions. Yesterday, four of us at Otherspace met at GMU in the pouring rain, then drove to a nearby Japanese restaurant, ate sushi, and plotted the future of Otherspace. I described my plans for the next animation, and my desire to make Otherspace into a world-class animation studio. Everyone else was excited and gave off an aura of being ready to go. I think we're really going to do this. "This" is Summer Storm, a five-minute short animation that will showcase our talents and blow away anyone who watches it. We've set a preliminary timeframe of one year to complete it, and we're planning a trip to the beach as a "location shoot." My mind is still reeling from all this. My plans are actually coming to life, and it's happening in a way that's not scary or weird. This all feels so good. Watched recently: If you ever plan on baking with Ghirardelli chocolate, you might want to know that Ghirardelli baking chocolate chips are delicious, and quite useless in baking. They have a melting point of about 80 degrees, so that once you start baking your cookies or what-have-you, the chips will remain melted for the next 29 hours. Oh, and by "double chocolate" Ghirardelli really means "dark chocolate." Just thought you might want to know. Tuesday night, I was invited to attend the high school graduation of two friends of mine. The ceremony was traditional in every way, from Pomp and Circumstance to the throwing of the hats. The only time I was really intrigued was during an amazing speech by a graduating senior, in which he pointed out that these students started their high school experience a few days before 9/11. He was a great speaker. Tuesday night dropped me into a completely different world than my normal one. I was in a room full of several hundred excited young men and women, freshly minted, ready to get into the world. They were starting their adult journeys. They were brimming with smiles, excitement, energy, and enthusiasm. A thrilling cocktail of human rocket fuel. What a great way to spend an evening! My desire for a stable routine has become even stronger at work. After weeks of comparatively little work, this week my to-do list has multiplied four-fold. There are sudden fires everywhere—one immediately resolvable thanks to some work I helped push through recently—and I have to keep on top of it. Thank goodness for GTD. I actually am on top of all my tasks, to a degree that sometimes amazes me. I spent yesterday playing catch-up at home, after the Otherspace Productions beach trip on Saturday, Father's Day at my parents' house Sunday afternoon, and a going-away party for a friend Sunday evening. In fact, I felt a little sick yesterday, and I think it was exhaustion. The beach trip was practically perfect in every way, to quote Mary Poppins, except for getting lost a few times on the way down. This was not completely a vacation; we spent much of the afternoon taking photos of the ocean and videotaping an animator walking down the beach. Our next animation is set on the beach, so this will all be useful for that. Everything else went well. We had a good time sending off our friend, and though it was sad to see him go, he's going because he wants to and believes it's the best thing for him. Won't argue with that. "Nowhere along the way does anyone emphasize the importance of social, interpersonal, and emotional skills in determining our success in professional life. Then the day arrives when we make a terrifying discovery: The world is filled with people." And suddenly, it's beautiful. After a week of rather punishing heat by June's standards—highs in the upper 90's—it's now comfortable and breezy, occasional clouds drifting lazily across the baby blue sky. I'm now extra grateful for the hour I spent in the garden yesterday evening, trimming lawn edges and generally cleaning up. I'm now enjoying it, as I recline on the front window seat and glance out at the lawn. It's been a great week at work; I helped track down information for a certification the company seeks, and the head of the effort praised me often, especially to upper management. It was interesting work, too; asking people about how we do things, writing up brief process descriptions (how to explain this with minimal words?), marking up spreadsheets, and so forth. And it helped to know that this entire job would be done today; I could focus intently on such a short-term goal. Unfortunately, my personal time suffered somewhat. Part of that was caused by exhaustion upon arriving home; I'm not used to that sort of pace at work. But also, I was just a little lazy this week. I spent a lot of time chatting with friends online. This is a fine and good thing in moderation, but this was not moderation. In fact, I just e-mailed them that I'm going to have to switch offline at 9:00 p.m. That'll give me time to write, draw, and read before going to bed. I just feel a need to make really good use of my time. I've entered a new phase in my understanding of the Getting Things Done system. For the past few weeks, I've been dumping everything into my system. If I notice something I want to buy, I add it to my "To Buy" list. If I think of something I'd like to do, I add it to one of my lists. As a result, when I have free time, I can't scour my brain for something to do. All my projects are out of my head, in my system. My brain literally doesn't remember them, at least not for immediate recall. This created a curious sense of limbo; I was so used to being pulled by all the strands of projects in my mind. Now, I have to rely on my system. This is a good thing, really, as I can concentrate on one thing at a time. Been watching quite a bit of anime lately. I finished Zeta Gundam, which was a brutal but satisfying experience. Almost everyone dies at the end, but in true Gundam tradition, their deaths are all meaningful. Characters sacrifice themselves for their beliefs. Similarly for the movie Char's Counterattack, though it also has the benefit of beautiful animation and direction. Finally, we get to see what giant robot combat in space is supposed to look like. I now know exactly how fighting in space 's supposed to feel in the Gundam universe. Also finished Gundam Seed, which I greatly enjoyed partly because of its cheesiness and partly because of its solid storytelling. They managed to take a jumble of elements from early Gundam shows and forge a solid story out of them. Last month, I spent several hours going through a rather frustrating process: I changed all my passwords on all my computers and websites. I now do this every three months. This was prompted mainly from my webserver, which has been hacked twice in the past couple of years. I know it's important to change passwords occasionally, but I never bothered to until I lost data on hacked websites. There's an unexpected benefit to this: I'll occasionally be reminded to return to a website I haven't visited in a long time, and my current password won't work. I'll try previous passwords until I can get in, then write down this new website. I now have a comprehensive list of sites that require a password, and I've closed accounts on a few that I no longer need. So, I've eliminated a few repositories of my personal information that had been floating around. I remember my passwords by having different levels of passwords: I have one password for throwaway accounts that don't keep any personal or financial information (such as forums and games), another for financial websites, and another for e-mail. I only have a few passwords that I use every day; the rest (for things like MySQL databases) are at least written down. All my passwords are currently written on a sheet of paper that I've hidden in my house. Moreover, all my passwords use upper-case letters, lower-case letters, and numbers; Almost all are at least eight characters long, and the very important ones use special characters (e.g., *, #, %) if possible. Is this a pain? A bit. But I feel a lot more secure. I think it's worth the trouble. Note there's more VR story. I've also uploaded all of the VR story so far to the VR story section of my writing website. The VR story is getting difficult to write. I wanted it to be a story I could just write without worrying about an intricate plot; nevertheless, a plot has evolved. And now I have a lot more that has to happen before I can finish the story, but I almost want to throw in the towel rather than spend time on the complexities of a plot for a story that's supposed to be an off-the-cuff action/adventure. I'm cleaning out some old webpage on this site, and instead of deleting them or making them individual pages, I thought I'd post them here for posterity. And here's one now! Dramatic Theory and Video Games Dramatic theory is hard to research. There seems to be very little material readily available. As a result, distilling dramatic theory down to a single reed-thin theorem is difficult. I'm going to try anyway. Good drama results from a certain pattern in the number of unanswered questions in existence in a work over time. In a very short work, that pattern is a simple peak: the number of unanswered questions rises over time until the climax near the end, and then drops back down to zero. Normally, however, that same pattern is maintained in general, but is supplemented by one level of recursion: small patterns of peaks within the larger pattern. The funny part of that theorem -- which is hardly "reed-thin," now that I look at it -- is the concept of "unanswered questions." What exactly does this refer to? It depends partly on the work. For example, a console RPG's unanswered questions usually center around the survival of the characters. A murder mystery novel's unanswered questions usually center around the motivation, methods, and identity of the murderer. Fair enough. Now, let's apply this theorem to video games, particularly combat-oriented video games. What makes for a satisfying video game? Ignoring the overall trend towards a larger climax, satisfaction comes from a pattern of peaks and valleys in the player's experience. The player should be "scared" for awhile, then not-scared for awhile. Both of these phases should be of a reasonable size. In a simple combat-oriented game, one in which the player is fighting off other monsters, this concept can be implemented fairly easily, by keeping a running tally of the number of monsters that the player is fighting. Once the player has spent a certain amount of time fighting monsters, then no new monsters are generated nearby. Once the player has spent a certain amount of time without fighting, more monsters are generated. Note, importantly, that this does not imply X minutes fighting monsters, followed by exactly X minutes not fighting monsters, etc. There will be a significant period in which the player will finish up fighting the current set of monsters, and clear out any other monsters nearby. Similarly, just because monsters are being generated nearby, does not necessarily mean that the player is immediately fighting them. Obviously, this is a brute-force implementation, but it serves well as an example. Spent a fair chunk of last night cleaning up this very website, finding little bugs and squashing them (an ugly metaphor, but apt). This is part of my desire to get all of my web material cleaned up, darn it, and into a system whereby I can check it all and keep it all clean. I'd like to take regular sweeps of my sites to clean up little problems before they require a few hours of tweaking. A good example from last night was a webpage footer I created about five years ago, back when my personal website was much smaller than it is now. This footer used neato tricks to display the last time the page was updated, automatically. Very handy: You could tell how old a page was, without any extra work on my part when I change it. Well, when I moved off of the server on which that trick worked, it stopped working. It hasn't worked since. But never removed those footers, and I used those pages to create other pages, until eventually those bad footers on dozens of pages. Ugh. Now that that's fixed, even if that sort of thing happens again, I want to catch it before it spreads. Thanks to my tickler file, I can do that. It's late, and I'm tired. So, very briefly: Tomorrow should be interesting, as I have a phone call with Saalon, an Otherspace meeting, plus GNO. Plus a few regular chores, such as backups. I'm looking forward to this; it's just going to make for a busy day. Speaking of backups, tomorrow is the last Saturday of the month, so I'll be backing up the server, and burning backups to DVD. So, tomorrow will be even busier than usual. Again, I really am looking forward to tomorrow; there are far, far worse fates than spending a day talking with friends, directing an animation team, and watching cheesy movies with other friends. Another quiet day at work, helping out a few people and generally organizing things. I plan to spend tomorrow tucking in to at least one major project, which at this point will be a relief. Finally, something to do! I had intended to spend the evening running errands, but once I got home, nuked a frozen dinner, and got into a comfortable chat with Saalon, I decided against it. Didn't have an immediate need for any of it. I can do it tomorrow. Or this weekend, unexpectedly, as Saalon's not coming down as planned. His trip has been postponed until next weekend, as he's plum tuckered out and needs a weekend to regroup. So, I have an unexpectedly empty weekend. Whatever shall I do? Lounge around doing nothing, I'm sure. Yeah, right. Spent the rest of the evening on various Otherspace business. Got the proof for the Summer Storm poster, and checked over the sites I'll use to order business cards and t-shirts next week (I'm low on funds, so will have to wait until I get my August rent payment). I also uploaded our financial information for the second quarter of this year, posted it, and printed it out to distribute to everyone on Saturday. Briefly: I paid the employees $2,100 last quarter. Phew. That's not a surprise, though; it varies from about $1,500 to a little over $2,000 every quarter. It'll be really interesting to watch this quarter, because of all the expenses for Otakon plus whatever money we get for selling all this merchandise. Sure is fun, though. I'm going to be selling merchandise of characters I thought up a few months ago. Cool! (Note: I 've uploaded an entry for yesterday.) This morning was brutally hot, as it has been for the previous couple of days. Walk outside and summer sits on your shoulders, weighing you down, slapping you with heat. As I drank my orange juice this morning, I looked at my backyard and realized I hadn't watered in a few days. Everything looked pretty good—I have a few pots, and the plants in them weren't collapsed like dead soldiers—but I knew they'd need water. Well. Work's been very quiet lately, so I slipped home at lunch and spent half an hour watering. This might strike some as a horrid, boring chore, but I enjoyed it. Fun to imagine the grateful plants slurping up this life-giving liquid: Thank you, benevolent god, for this sustenance! they might have said. OK, maybe I stood out in the sun too long. Anyvay. Went back to work, helped out with some computer problems (and that's fun, too, since I know what I'm talking about and can just calmly offer suggestions), and by the end of the day was very much ready to go home. Stopped off at a nearby grocery store, Wegman's, and grabbed half a cart of prosaic grocery store items: beef, broccoli (guess what Chinese dish I'm making this weekend?), more orange juice, paper towels, a catfish filet, band-aids, bird seed, cotton balls. The latter were named something ridiculously generic like "soft swabs"...and I looked closely and discovered that it's because they're not 100% cotton any more; part synthetic. 80% recycled steel wool, for all I know. I mention this list because when I'm checking out, I sometimes look at my purchases and wonder what they say about me. If I have friends coming over, seventy percent of my purchases are potato chips and soda, and if I'm unlucky enough to also be buying a carton of ice cream for myself and a box of stack of frozen dinners, I feel like yet another unhealthy bachelor. But I can't very well pull out pictures of my refrigerator and show the clerk the normal set of vegetables, fresh eggs, and meats in there, and that my cupboards are mostly oils, various sugars, flour, rice, etc. Because I get the oddest looks when I do that. (Kidding!) So I took my half-full cart outside...into the pouring rain. It was as though God had said to himself, "Shoot! I forgot to water Virginia!" and dumped a bucket on us. If it had been raining any harder, I would have been looking for a twister. I looked at my basket: two full loads there. I looked back at the rain, and said to myself, "Oh well." Grabbed two handfuls of bags, ran to the truck, tossed the bags in, and by the time I was back, I was completely soaked through. The return was more leisurely; the rain couldn't get me any more wet. I was tempted to strip off my shirt when I got into the car, but (A) the sight of my white, naked chest would frighten passing motorists, and (B) I just don't think it's the right thing to do in public. We have shirts for a reason. I got into the truck, turned up the heat, and I was fine. Got home, looked at the waterlogged garden, and thought: I'm so glad I came home from work at lunch to water my garden. Oh well; I really did enjoy myself, and who can live their lives at full efficiency? Then, a good evening: changed into dry clothes, re-uploaded the Summer Storm artwork for a poster (and there's a story), made a few phone calls, and watched two episodes of a Flash Gordon serial (and there's another story). And then, bed. Brennen's been posting a multi-part essay (see part 1 and part 2) about the state of American primary education. He's working very hard to make a case with which I generally agree. However, I want to argue two points. One: Why punish children for using the language of their parents, their older siblings, and their culture at large? Does saying "fuck" actually render a person somehow less valuable? Contrariwise, do prohibitions on language actually do anything but lend a special power to supposed obscenities and encourage their use? Our culture has codes of conduct. Note that I don't mean arbitrary cultural beliefs; I'm talking about the standards embodied by the idea of dressing nicely when meeting with a customer. It's a matter of good culture. We encourage kids to avoid swearing just like we encourage them to comb their hair. Why? Because these things are important. Culture is important. When you belong to a group, it's important to respect the cultural norms of that group. I like the Rule of St. Benedict, because Benedict addresses these sorts of issues in a beautifully practical way: Societies need simple rules, and humans in those societies needs to humble themselves to obey those rules (unless harmful). The best societies mute power, and this is one of the ways in which they do that. (Similarly, allowing any and all language unleashes those who use language to abuse others, both directly and indirectly. We all know people who, if given the chance, won't shut up, abusing this power. Children have a particularly strong tendency towards this behavior.) Anyvay. Two: If children almost universally respond better to individualized attention,what purpose does an increased standardization of teaching (in methods,content, and testing) really serve? My best teachers were the oneswhose style was idiosyncratic and individual, the product of a personal craft -where does a mania for uniformity leave them? Where does it leave theirstudents? The problem here, I think, is a matter of scale. Brennen describes the democratic and free-form Tamariki School as a school that, overall, works in the way he'd like. I agree. However, as he points out, Tamariki has around sixty pupils and nine paid adults. What happens when you have to serve, not sixty kids, but six thousand? Will you be able to afford the same adult-student ratio, and will all the adults be as good teachers as the ones at Tamariki? No. So, how do you ensure that the poor teachers at least get across the basics? Hand them a textbook and say, "Make sure the kids learn at least this much." Seriously, I think that education of the sort Brennen is advocating does not scale. Note that this can be okay, depending on the type of education you want. If you want a holistic education that prepares a child ethically and philosophically, you can't find it in public education. That sort of thing simply doesn't scale up, from what I can see. This is why I'd like to see public education become much more focused on skills. In my opinion, public education works best when it's teaching something relatively straightforward, rather than coaching a child in concepts of freedom, personal responsibility, etc. (Put another way, asking why public education can't be like Tamariki is akin to asking why McDonald's can't serve six-course French meals. French cuisine works on a restaurant-by-restaurant basis, but not when you're trying to serve fifty million customers a day.) At least, that's my take on it. Thoughts? Hot day. As soon as I stepped outside, summer wrapped me in a thick blanket of heat and humidity. I practically staggered under its oppressiveness. More is expected tomorrow. Which means...what, exactly? Par for the course in D.C. Our summers can be vicious brutes. A lot of people around here talk wistfully of moving to the Carolinas, where you still get the seasons but summers aren't as nasty. Of course, they never move. D.C. has a double-whammy, two gravitic pulls: Politics and the Pentagon. Some member of your family is either stationed here, or serving a political party here. Of course, once your tour of duty is up or your party falls out of favor, you'll move...but you'll move to be with your family in Oklahoma. The Carolinas are the greener grass on the other side of the fence from D.C. Boy, you can tell I wrote 547 words of fiction tonight, and in forty minutes. Anyvay. Can't sum up the day with any single word. Work was a grey blur; I accomplished quite a few jobs of various importance, but there's nothing immediate or urgent drawing my attention. In fact, I spent a lot of the day working on things to prepare for the future. This is good, obviously, but it doesn't focus the mind like a good emergency. I came home determined to make some progress on home renovations, which has lapsed for a couple of months now, really. I got sick of the old Venetian blinds in my room yesterday, tore them down, and put up the curtains that had sat on the floor for months. That emboldened me to work on the house tonight. I don't like to paint, but I had a few bits of trim and such that needed a coat or two of Ultra Pure White. So I taped them up, laid down old newspapers, popped a can of paint, and began painting. ...And enjoyed myself immensely. I had fun, and I've never had fun painting before. Perhaps it had to do with the empty house, me alone and the only person around to actually do anything, and actually doing it. Perhaps it was the simple success of accomplishing a task, right now. To quote a Terry Pratchett character: "She liked digging pits. You know where you are when you're digging a pit." Then iTunes began playing Mozart's "Ave verum Corpus," which is my signal to start writing. So I did: 547 words of my modern fantasy novel. I'm now a hundred words shy of three thousand words, which is about 5%. I guess it has been a good day. Hey, I managed to update every weekday last week! Hurray for me. Saturday was a quiet, lazy day, though "lazy" for me means that I completed ten tasks instead of twenty. My primary goal this weekend is to catch up on Gundam Seed Destiny, so I watched a handful of episodes yesterday. I'm now up to episode 32 (out of 50, probably), so I 'm now well into the main plot. The show is finally establishing some solid characterization for one of the main characters who, up to now, has mostly just been a jerk. But I'm impressed with Destiny thus far. I think it's one of the better Gundam shows, which says a lot. It helps that it's a dark show, and Gundam is often best when it's flat-out serious. I also made some Beef with Broccoli, thanks to a recently-purchased 1960's book on Chinese cuisine. I haven't been able to screw up any of the dishes yet, and the Beef with Broccoli turned out well (but a bit too salty). All these dishes are tremendously easy to make, too; just slice up some meat, slice up some vegetables, toss 'em in an oiled pan for a few minutes at appropriate intervals, and you're done. Sasha the Space Corps Boy just left my house, where we had a great time watching the new Appleseed movie (I'm now annoyed by the reviews that sniffed at its mediocre plot; it's little more than a high-powered action movie, but it does a great job at being one. The plot is somewhat complex, but this is not a deep movie, and it never pretends to be. That's why there are mind-blowing action scenes literally every ten minutes.) Let me back up. I had planned to have a mini-Redemption party at my house tonight, but nobody could make it. That was a good thing; I was feeling exhausted from this week anyway, and in fact came home early and slept for most of the afternoon. But Sasha called, saying that he'd be able to drop by, and I was thrilled that I'd be able to see him again. So he stopped by, and we caught up, watched Appleseed, and swapped music. A very good thing, if just to spend some time with a good friend. He also asked if I could drive him to Otakon, which I agreed to. Amusingly, after I attended Otakon alone last year (and suffered for it; cons are much less fun when you're alone), this year I'll be attending with six friends. Again, this is a very good thing. ...But, no, that's not going to happen. I spent all evening on the phone doing business with Saalon, and vegging out in front of MST3K ("The Killer Shrews"), exhaustion seeping into my bones like dry rot. I'm beat. I'm so beat that I'm calling off a bunch of my commitments for this weekend, and plan to spend the next few days recharging. I need it. Lots of good stuff this week, but too much of it. I feel like I'm burning a candle from four ends. (I did manage to do a little weeding in the garden, and go through all the mail that had piled up since Monday. So, things got done, just not as much as I'd hoped. Which, of course, is typical, so why does this situation always disappoint me?) The front page of today's Wall Street Journal carries the story of a six-year-old who competes in sheep-riding competitions. That's the entire story. Slow news day, hmm? (A real post later, I hope.) This was the last day of the certification audit at work. As yesterday, I just had to wait for information requests, and today, I received none. I did attend the final briefing, at which I received a round of applause for my efforts. So. A good day. I arrived home, ate dinner, started a load of laundry, and received a phone message from a member of my role-playing group, who asked if we could switch role-playing to tonight. I glanced at the clock, swallowed the last gulp of my dinner, called him back, and accepted. I raced out to his place and they spent nearly three hours shooting cops (they're members of the Mafia). Quite fun, though they've worked their characters into a corner: everyone hates them and they've been thrown into jail. I'll have to come up with a way for them to get out and get on with saving the world. And that's been pretty much the entire day. I'd hoped to spend some of tonight recharging, but I can do that tomorrow night. Well, after I call Saalon to go over the Otherspace stuff, and before my big party Friday night. This is turning into quite a week. What a peculiar day. I returned home from the game last night at midnight, trudged upstairs...and felt heat like an oven was left on. Now, my oven doesn't work, and it's not upstairs. Uh-oh. I went back downstairs and realized: Yesterday, I switched the A/C off so I could talk to a friend outside while standing next to the A/C unit and he wouldn't think I was standing next to a running jet engine. I forgot to switch the A/C back on. That was late at night, so the house had stayed cool that night, but after the heat of the day, the upstairs felt like the Mojave at noon. I switched the A/C on, and it began to cool down a bit, but it takes awhile. Ah well; this is what shorts are for. But I felt bad, because my roommate had come home that evening and had to suffer with a hot house all day. I'd also forgotten to switch off my bedtime alarm (my computer plays Mozart's "Ave verum Corpus" at 9:00 p.m. each night, to remind me to stop what I'm doing), so that was softly playing Beethoven. Not the worst thing to be trapped in a house with, but still, a situation I wish I'd avoided. This morning, I forced myself awake at 6:00 a.m. so I could get in to work by 7:30 so I could make a presentation at 8:00. Managed to shove myself through the motions until I got to work, where professionalism took over, and I brightly took my paperwork over to the meeting room: Nobody was there. I tried the meeting room next door: Full of people I'd never seen before. Hmmm. I eventually made my way to the receptionist, who told me they were meeting in another building entirely. Ah; it would have been nice if I'd been informed this. So I marched over there, walked in...and was politely told that they were in the middle of a particular set of work and I wouldn't be needed until 10:30. Oh. A wonderful start to the day, which had the following general form: I would spend ten-minute bursts receiving information, entering it into their system, and printing out information. Then, I'd spend the next several hours waiting for more information. I couldn't start anything else of importance, as they needed me able to respond to requests quickly. So I spent the vast majority of the day in a holding pattern. Odd. But by arriving at 8:00 and eating lunch at my desk, I could leave at 4:00, stop by the grocery store, and be home by 5:00, in time to catch up on chores (bring the garbage can around back, empty the dishwasher, refill the bird feeders, water the pots in the garden), make a quick dinner of pan-seared tilapia and corn, and bang this out, before heading off to writer's group at 7:00. (Those chores are odd things; I was always afraid that I'd get intensely bored by them, want to fob them off on other people. But no, not yet, not with my own house. Maybe someday I'd let other people do these things, if I simply don't have the time, but it would be a sad response to a need.) Writer's Group was sparsely attended—just me and two others—and we discussed the need for more content. After batting around a few ideas, someone suggested each person writing a story based on a photograph. I volunteered, and just sent everyone a link to this photograph: What germ of story does that conjure up to you? Tonight, I met my Dad at McDonald's, then hopped on a bus which took us to the fabulous D.C. subway system, which whisked us downtown to D.C., where we joined the crowds of teeming, streaming humanity entering RFK stadium for a Washingtion Nationals baseball game. I have been to a baseball game in over ten years, so I obviously haven't been to a Nationals game yet. I had a great time. The seats were big, we had a good view of the action (past third base, but only a few rows from the field). My Dad was great company, as usual. He provided lots of information from his encyclopedic knowledge of baseball, while I joked a bit and offered a few obvious insights: "That was a bad play." "He keeps pitching 'em in the dirt!" There were some detractions: The food was expensive (a beer cost $8, and no, I didn't buy any; I stuck to $4 cups of lemonade and $4.50 small hot dogs). A mother in front of us kept standing up to hand drinks to her kids or talk to the person behind her, blocking our view. Plus, a few nearby fans had had a few too many $8 beers. But these were all minor. I'd like to go again this year. My garden is looking much improved. My parents came over today with a load of plants that they had yanked from their own garden. We all pitched in and planted veritable miles of pachysandra and Virginia creeper, plus several hostas and impatiens. Kind of them, plus it filled out my garden nicely. Can't wait to lay down some mulch now. We also watched New Police Story, Jackie Chan's latest movie. As Saalon expected, it's a return to Jackie's roots of solid, amazing action movies. Instead of typical Hollywood fluff (twenty minutes of goofball comedy for every minute of action), this has tons of character development and tense scenes interspersed with some of the better fight sequences I've seen in Jackie's films. Very dark and serious, too, which is a break from typical Jackie Chan films, but a welcome one (heck, Miracles is one of my favorite Jackie movies, and it's quite a departure from his norm). Meanwhile, we've finished the Summer Storm animatic, which I've broken down into shots. I feel much more in control of Summer Storm than Matrix Experiments Lain, partly because I know more of what I'm doing this time around. Can't wait to see where this goes. I accomplished absolutely nothing yesterday, aside from the Otherspace meeting. I think I was exhausted from the stress (!) of finishing Matrix Experiments Lain (which isn't completely finished; I'm going to clean up a few things before burning it to DVD). So I mainly chatted online yesterday. Felt good. Geh. Accidentally deleted my journal entry for today. Briefly: Got DVD case in the mail, but it was the wrong size. Everyone involved was extremely helpful. Can't complain. Wrote overwrought metaphor concerning this. Saalon's helping me edit Summer Storm, which means I'll have less creative control but more free time. I feel this is worth the trade. I'm keeping pretty well on top of things, so I'm feeling pretty darn good. Also, note more VR story to the left. Teriyaki chicken and Twinkle, Twinkle Lucky Stars—an excellent combination which I enjoyed last night at my parents' house. I try to make it over there about once a week; it's my duty as a son, and fortunately, I genuinely enjoy their company. So we ate and watched Twinkle, Twinkle, which is a Jackie Chan film in the same sense that Raiders of the Lost Ark is a John Rhys-Davies film. Jackie's in it, and he has a few scenes (including an amazing fight in a Pepsi warehouse), but he's in no sense the star. It's an ensemble movie, mostly starring the Seven Fortunes and Sammo Hung. But it was definitely fun, worth watching. Today I feel much like I did yesterday: like a wrung-out dishrag. The stress (!) of the first half of the week has shifted my brain into second gear. I can work, and talk, and be normal, but my creativity fuel level is near empty. Which means one thing: Lots and lots of anime. It's funny how the most thrilling, exhilirating moments of your life are also the ones most full of stress. (I don't like that word, stress. It's a suspiciously modern term, and it smells like a modern excuse for something. Why did nobody in human history note a feeling of psychological stress until 1942?) Last night, myself and an animator worked furiously to finish Matrix Experiments Lain in time for the Otakon submission deadline. The animation still needed to be tweaked here and there to eliminate stray lines and blemishes that had crept into the cels and gone unnoticed. Then, I had to render it several times and burn it to disc. Then I checked the disc on my laptop and found that one of the movie files was corrupted. So I burned it again. Then I checked the submission guidelines and found that they wanted a README.TXT file on the disc. So I burned it again. But THAT ONE STAYED UP! (Sorry; Monty Python reference.) So, as of midnight last night, I tossed Matrix Experiments Lain into my bag so I could mail it today. Huzzah. It's not completely final; I'll show it to the rest of the studio on Saturday, and they can suggest any final changes before I bless the animation as complete. Then I'll burn DVDs for everyone. Phew. It's good for it to be over, and I felt wonderful accomplishment in completing it, but...man, I didn't like the last-minute rush. As I noted to Saalon last night, rendering a video is somewhat like compiling software code; though it's an automatic process, inevitably the compiled product has bugs that have to be fixed. I now plan to set aside a large amount of time—say, a month—for rendering Summer Storm. I just don't want all that stress. As I mentioned a few entries ago, I hate deadlines. In fact, I've organized Otherspace to minimize deadlines. However, we've had a deadline thrust upon us: if we want to premiere our animation at Otakon, the submitted disc has to be in their sweaty otaku hands by this Monday (a switch from the previous submission date of tomorrow. Luxury!). So I got the last of the backgrounds last night, inserted them into their various shots, and everything looked great...then I leaned forward and peered at the preview window. The final shot had some kind of dust on the artwork. It didn't show up until there was a fully-colored background behind it. It was unquestionably there, though, so I IMed one of the animators and she set to fixing it. Meanwhile, I set to recording a footstep. Should be easy; I set up my iBook to record the sound of a shoe hitting the wall. This should have been close enough to the sound I wanted. The recording was utterly silent. I futzed around with the settings for awhile before I realized that the iBook's microphone is apparently broken. Ah well; I could do without the footstep. The animator fixed the dusty drawings and sent them to me. I imported them, and they looked great, and then I noticed that the import process had changed their size and position on the screen. Arrrg. This is part of a long animated shot involving about twenty drawings, each meticulously placed. It was going to take quite awhile to re-position them. So I saved the project, switched on BitTorrent to download another episode of Gundam Seed Destiny, and leapt into bed with a gardening book and a biography of John Adams. The phone rang; it was Saalon, and we spent a pleasant hour or two chatting about role-playing and Gundam series. Afterwards, I climbed back into bed and fell asleep. A good day, really. The demon Despair attacked again today, though not as fiercely as last week. This time, it appeared as I drove to the animation meeting. It brought up every petty annoyance I've had lately, and I fantasized about being so thoroughly screwed that I would tell everyone, "Okay, that's it. I hereby dissolve Otherspace. I'm going to enjoy my free weekends from now on." Of course, the meeting went great, and now wouldn't shut it down if someone paid me to do it. Funny, isn't it, how a brief flash of emotion can threaten to unravel plans going back years. The sky was full of battleship clouds, slung low, cruising towards the western horizon. But as the sun galloped across the sky, the fleet broke up into a few huge carriers drifting lazily along. Good day, all told. Work went swimmingly, thanks to my help on a troublesome project. Always feels good to be a rescuer. Then I heard about the bombing of London today, and I felt a lot more thankful for all I have. My heart goes out to the British today, and if I can offer any hope, I'll just say this: You will come out of this stronger. I came home and powered through a bunch of little chores—e-mail, blogs, filling the bird feeders, sweeping the front walkway, setting the clocks to the atomic time (as I do every two months), etc. I also paid bills online, as I've been diligently setting up my online bank account to accommodate this. It's wonderful to pay bills immediately; no filling out of a check, waiting for it to arrive, then waiting for it to be processed. I click a few buttons, and the money is immediately removed from my checking account. Wonderful. And, suddenly, rain. Big, solid rain. The kind of rain you rarely see in movies, so I'm always shocked when I see it: neither the drizzle of film noir, nor the sheets of water in disaster movies. This is the rain of, say, Jurassic Park. A dependable, nine-to-five kind of rain. As I left for work this morning, I noticed my umbrella sitting in the foyer, and thought to myself, "There probably won't be any rain. And if there is, it'll only be a drizzle." Should have paid attention to that little nag in the back of my mind. Usually helps. I'm fresh back from a role-playing session, which I greatly enjoyed, and seemed to go well. We're all still familiarizing ourselves with role-playing in general. It's an odd form of interactive storytelling, and it's tough on the players and the GM in different ways. The players have to react to whatever the GM throws at them, and the GM has to keep up with the players' choices. Fun, but hard. Which is usually an excellent sign. 2:44 p.m. It's a brain fog day—I can think, and I can plan, but I'm working at about 80%. Much like the weather: warm but unremarkable. There's no sky; above the horizon is nothing but a pearly, milky void. There's an occasional halfhearted sprinkle of rain. The whole world shrugs its shoulders and says, "Meh." Spent last night on final preparations for Matrix Experiments Lain's premiere at Otakon. The company is working hard to finish it up in time for the unexpected deadline next week. Looks like we'll make it without too much stress or strain, actually. And that's good, because I hate stressing over deadlines. In fact, if I could, I'd ban deadlines from Otherspace. (It's an impressively negative term, too, suggesting both death and the thin line of a garrote.) I've been trying hard to, but sometimes there are external pressures. At least we have the freedom to choose: Sometimes we work towards the deadline, and sometimes we reject it. Watched a few more episodes of Gundam Seed Destiny last night, and my goodness is this a fun series. It still feels a bit like fanfiction (The protagonist returns with his Gundam! The venerable ship from the last series takes off! The girl is rescued!), but it's enjoyable, well-made fanfiction, and they've laid out enough of an interesting plot that I feel sure this won't devolve into a retread of the last series (or, worse, an attempt to cram this series full of great moments from favorite characters). Grrr. I wrote a nice post on Tuesday, but forgot to post it. So it's posted now. Much to write about, really: anime watched, books read, stories being written. But it's 1:55 a.m., and I've been chronically late to work all week, so I'm going to post this, then climb into bed, and stare at the ceiling for the next half an hour or so. Sometimes, being a night owl really sucks. (Okay, most times.) It was a long, dreary, Siberian day at the office today. This was perhaps caused by my mode of waking up: when my alarm sounded, I rolled over, thought Ah, it's still vacation, I can still sleep and slept until 9:30. Then I realized it was a work day, and one of the developers I support had said he might need my help on a build today. So I raced in to work, to find that he won't need my help until tomorrow. I had forgotten to eat breakfast, so instead I had a cupcake. An hour later, predictably, the sugar had worn off and I had the energy of a rusty hinge. Lunch was sweet freedom; I went to Suncoast to pick up my reserved copy of Tenchi Muyo! OVA 3 volume 1 (I'm amused at the diversity of that franchise, and how many terms it needs to differentiate each series), and my debit card was promptly declined. Oh, wonderful. The helpful clerk—they're all helpful at Suncoast, now that the previous manager is gone—offered to hold my bag behind the counter for an unspecified period until I came back to pick it up. That's service. But I left the store glum; no new anime for me. Of course, the huge pile of unwatched anime at home means nothing. (I later realized that my current debit card was deactivated, and I was sent a new card. I tried to activate it as soon as I got it, but the automation hell had no obvious option for new card activation, and I had other things to do. My next action was the mistake: I didn't put the card into my inbox, where I'd process it later. Ah well, I'm only mildly inconvenienced.) So today I've been poking my nose through a long document that requires simple tweaks here and there. Utterly mindless work. And that should be perfect for a dull day like today—it's even drizzling out—but my mind wants to be active. I blame the weekend: I'm rested, so now I want to be doing something. But I don't. Fair warning: This entry is bland as water. Just returned from my parents' house, where I spent most of Independence Day. Their pool was open, so I took advantage of that to swim a bit, then we watched an excellent Jackie Chan film, Police Story 2, and a bit of the fireworks celebration. It was a great thing, really. Meanwhile, Otherspace goes well. We plan to submit Matrix Experiments Lain to Otakon, and got an unpleasant surprise last week: Otakon just opened up its submissions, and the deadline is a week from this Wednesday. So, we're suddenly rushing to finish M.E.L. I don't like to rush, but there's little we can do, and everyone seems pretty upbeat about it. Today, summer felt autumn breathing down its neck, so it gave us a classic summer day to remind us that it's still August: hot and sunny, but breezy enough to keep the heat from turning oppressive. The cicadas called loud and desperately to each other. If you like summer, this would have been your day. I spent much of the workday fighting small fires; apps that suddenly didn't work quite right, people to call, etc. Nothing exciting or noteworthy, but that's good too. Exciting emergencies are great sources of worry, stresss, and strain. I went to the grocery store and bought no groceries. While standing in line on previous trips, I'd noticed a digital photo processing kiosk at one end of the store, and wanted to try it. I've been taking pictures of my garden every month, to put in my garden journal for reference, so last week I burned a CD of the pictures and dropped it in my laptop bag. So there I was, standing in front of the Kodak Picture CD Kiosk. I cringed inwardly; I've used enough of these horribly designed public kiosks that I steeled myself to navigate through a brightly-colored maze of options. To my delighted surprise, it was well-designed and intuitive, though I did get confused about how to get multiple prints, and ended up with a single print, plus an order for the other 19. So I made my order using the "Ready In Minutes!" option. However, I discovered that this means that each picture prints in about one minute, so I had to stand there for twenty minutes while each photo dropped in a little tray in the front. Booooring, but I got my photos for $.40 each. Not bad, but I think next time I'll choose one-hour processing for $.25 each and shop in the interim. Though I'm so efficient at grocery shopping that I'm usually done in half an hour. Hmmmmm. Anyvay, I got my pictures, and this got me in the mood to garden. I came home and straightaway used the rest of my mulch in the front yard, mowed both the front and back yards, and trimmed back a bush that was overhanging a neighbor's yard. As I did so, a boy who just moved in next door peeked his head over the fence and said, "Nice backyard!' "Thanks," I called back, and he grinned and ran back inside. That just about made my evening. Came back inside, nuked some frozen lasagna, and went upstairs to work on Otherspace. Saalon chose tonight to assemble shots for the first time, so I talked him through my process. Unfortunately, the shots just weren't ready yet, so he couldn't get very far. I agreed to take them back to the animators, while he did some experimenting and looked into local anime conventions that we can attend. And that's a wonderful situation: Saalon's making our convention arrangements, which is a load off my mind. He can keep up with such things better than I. Then I paid a few bills (which is another story, but a boring one that I'll not detail here), browsed a few online comics, and climbed into bed. And here I am, and now I'm going to try to get some sleep. Summer's here, but autumn is near. Ahhhh, I love Mondays. I really do. I'm usually rested thanks to the weekend, and I charge headlong through the workday, getting all sorts of things done, to come home tired but fulfilled. So I did. I spent a fair chunk of the morning reviewing my projects and tasks and laying out a Next Actions list. Then I spent the rest of the day powering through it. Incredibly satisfying. Odd that I don't do it more often. Then I spent the evening on a variety of more or less fun projects: Uploading photos from the Otherspace beach trip, writing and tweaking a new interface for the Otherspace site, and installing Syllable 0.5.7. And that was my day, in brief. A good, quiet couple of days. Though it's interesting I should say that; I'm sure others would describe a "quiet couple of days" as hell. Such things are on my mind because I've been looking for romance on eHarmony. Funny how this process of looking for someone else makes you think more about yourself. Well, I want to make a good impression on any girl I'd meet. I have little love for the eHarmony process, mostly because it's all online. The bandwidth for human connection on the internet is very limited; there's only so much that one can get across in a few paragraphs about oneself. I wish I could just meet a couple dozen girls for a few minutes at a time, talk briefly with each one, and have a short list of potential girlfriends within an hour or two. Someone phone Hollywood! This would make a great reality show. Not that I've ever seen a good reality show, much less a great one. Then spent today on a variety of chores: spreading mulch out front, doing backups, uploading Otherspace content (there's a new episode of the manga), working on the Syllable website (a new version of the OS was released today), cleaning, making sweet-and-sour pork for dinner, watching the first episode of Super Radical Gag Family and the second episode of Quiet Country Cafe, and generally chatting with folks. So, yeah, pretty quiet and uneventful.... Achingly beautiful day. Warm, breezy; the Earth herself is in a chipper mood, smiling brightly. A day so beautiful I couldn't quite bear to stay at work all day. So, after truthfully completing all the work assigned to me, I cut out a little early and headed over to the local landfill to get a load of mulch. This is to stave off the lady who couldn't remember what mulch is called. I got there at 4:30, just as the gates were closing. Drove home in a funk, hopped online, and discovered the landfill closes at 4:00 p.m. every day. Well, that's sure convenient to nobody. But on a day like today, I couldn't feel bad for long. After nuking a single-serving pizza, I dove into my pile of chores. By 8:50, I'd finished all of them, including a check of Tripwire logs, a review of Syllable.org (to look for dead links or otherwise buggy code), a quick clean of the bathrooms and kitchen, and processing all the cosplay photographs from Otakon so I can post them to the Otherspace website. Phew. So, as a bit of a reward, I sat back and watched my new DVD of The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension. I'd forgotten how much I loved this film, and I still do. It holds up. A great adventure with an immense sense of fun. It's sad, really, how little of our so-called entertainment is really fun. So many action/adventure films take themselves so seriously, when they could just be a rollicking good roller coaster ride. Make fun of yourself. Toss in a few self-referential gags. Lighten up! Sorry for that aside; the movie has made me fill that giddy. I want to shout to the world, "Life can be such FUN!" But the goths are buried too deep in their angst, the Gen X'ers too deep in their mortgages, and the boomers too deep in their need to die with the most toys. Lighten up. Oh: New bit of the VR story. Not particularly exciting, I know, but that's all I've had in me for that story. I'm building up to the end, but I've taken a vacation that's killed my desire to write. Ah well; I'll get back to it. And I will; I took a vacation because I didn't have the time to finish all my projects. Now I'm clearing the decks, so I'll have time to write without that time eating into other chores and responsibilities. Another late night and short entry. Excellent day at work. Busy all day, but pleasanatly so—I had a bunch of things to do, each of which I accomplished in under an hour. So it was all stuff I could just do, and check off my list. I left work, stopped by a local McDonald's for a chicken strips meal (which tasted like well-salted crispy leather strips), then drove straight to a friend's house for a night of role-playing. I really enjoyed that, too; we pushed forward with a campaign set in a world of Greek Mythology. Lots of stuff is hapenning, and the players are pushing a lot of that along. But I didn't get home until 11:30 at night. So I skimmed through my e-mails and cleaned up a few forum spams on Syllable.org. Then I got annoyed with the forum spam so much that I logged in to the MySQL server and dug out all the remaining spam using some SQL scripting. That felt good. Now, I'm tired, and I want to get a good night's sleep so I can get to work at a reasonable time tomorrow, so I can get home and finish up all the chores that I have still remaining left over from Otakon. So, good night. I've had one of those weird days where I came home ready to finish catching up from the weekend, but didn't get to any of it. Instead, I took out the pork I'd bought to make sweet and sour pork, chopped up the green pepper and onion, put my knife through the pork...and discovered that this pork was still on the bone. Well, couldn't very well dice this, so instead I just pan-fried it and the vegetables, and microwaved some rice, and sat down with a VHS tape that had just arrived. The VHS tape in question was The Halloween Tree, an animation of the book by Ray Bradbury. Bradbury wrote the script and narrated it, the main character was played by Leonard Nimoy, the rest of the cast is well-acted, and the direction is solid. Unfortunately, it's animated by Hanna-Barbera. Not poorly, but it shows. Eh, it'll be a good addition to my yearly October Ritual. And now, it's late, and while I'd like to prattle on about my day, I'm getting tired. So a quick, odd link: COLOURlovers, a site about color. Or, colour. You can see the submitted colo(u)rs, rate them, and comment on them. Strangely hypnotic. Wow. I'm beat, but I'm tickled pink by this weekend. Where to begin? Thursday was a day of getting ready for the weekend; cleaning up the yard, doing laundry, etc. Got it pretty much all done before heading out to role-play with some friends that evening. We're playing an SF mafia campaign in which they just managed to defend Mafia HQ against a massive invasion force made up of hovercraft and walking tanks. I had fun, at least, and I think they did, too. Got home, went to bed, and slept well despite worrying about the weekend. Woke up the next morning to an odd sound outside. A rushing, shushing sound. Pulled the curtains to one side and saw rain pouring down on the street outside. Wonderful. This was not merely an inconvenience; I was taking two passengers to the convention, so all our bags and merchandise to sell was going to have to go in the bed of the truck. Which was now thoroughly wet. So I got everything together, hauled a tarp into the back of the truck, put the boxes of t-shirts and posters into that, then folded the tarp over and clamped it down with bungee cords. It would have to do, I said to myself as I climbed, rather thoroughly wet, into the truck. I found my passengers easily, then we were off to Otakon. And we stopped: The beltway was full of stop-and-go traffic, at 10:30 in the morning on a Friday. Arg. That added to our trip, but we got to Baltimore soon enough to find our hotel. I tried to park myself in the parking garage, but a thorough search of all seven levels revealed no parking spaces whatsoever, so when I found that valet parking was an extra $4 a day, I figured that I could manage that. So we checked in, checked our bags, and hauled our boxes of merchandise to the convention (note to self: next time, bring a hand cart). In the rain. But we got there, got our badges, huffed and puffed our way to Artist's Alley...and stood in another line, as Artist's Alley had a huge number of artists checking in. Oh well; my companions set up our table while I got ourselves registered, then we sat down and began selling. It was odd. People would walk by, glance at our table, and keep on walking. Which was normal, of course, but how do you break through that? We quickly realized that we needed a hook, so we started announcing to people, "We're making our own anime." (Not quite accurate, since anime is Japanese by definition, but "We're making an anime-style American animation" doesn't catch people's attention.) Then people would do a double-take and murmur, "Cool." And then they'd really look at the laptop on which our storyboard was playing. Then we'd point to the beautiful full-color glossy posters and explain that this was our current project. By the end of the weekend, we had a full-scale routine. "We're making our own anime." A head would turn. We'd gesture at the poster, say, "This is our current project, Summer Storm," we'd gesture at the laptop, "and this is the storyboard behind it." We'd pause a moment as they stared at the screen, then we'd say, "Would you like to support our efforts? Design sheets are only a dollar; two dollars gets you all three. Posters are only five dollars, and t-shirts are merely ten." And then they'd take a business card and keep walking. Actually, "we" didn't say much of that; Christina (one of our artists) did almost all the talking. She switched on as soon as we started doing this; once someone was within talking distance, she'd start her speech. It was amazing; the rest of us wouldn't even start talking that soon. She, quite simply, rocked. And she's the main reason we sold over $130 worth of merchandise, for an animation nobody's even seen yet (including us). I didn't expect to sell anything, so I'm floored that we did so well. We actually managed to pay for both the table and the cost of power, plus a little extra to cover the cost of the merchandise. Eeeexcellent. Friday evening, I had a thoroughly pleasant surprise: my parents called me and told me that they were there, at the convention. They'd driven all the way up and paid for registrations just to watch the premiere of Matrix Experiments Lain with me. So they did. It aired at midnight, and everyone in the room was exhausted, so nobody reacted, but they didn't react to the animation before it or the animation after. I'm content. In any event, the weekend passed smoothly. I got a little better at engaging people and talking to them about the animation, and we each left our table at various points to see the rest of the con. I finally saw Kakurenbo, which was a fanastic thriller with a disappointing ending, the first episode of Bleach, which was very good, and a bunch of anime music videos. I also bought a couple of cels: a beautiful Kiki, a Porco Rosso, and a lovely Tenchi OVA cel. All in all, a good weekend. So we checked out and I drove the artists home on Sunday, then immediately turned around and drove to a friend's house for a going-away party. The guest of honor is leaving for college, so we all got her various presents. She's a huge fan of R.O.D the TV, so I bought her the boxset, and everyone else chipped in for a Barnes & Noble gift card. And we basically had a great time chatting and eating cake. So I got home from the convention at about 1:00 a.m. Monday morning. Fell into bed, slept late, and spent the workday doing comparatively little except catch up. Then, grocery store, home, mowed the lawn, watered the pots out back, made dinner, updated the Otherspace website, processed all my mail, and did laundry. I think. It's a bit of a haze at this point. I'm still not caught up yet, of course; I won't be until at least tomorrow. But I'm well on my way. So, now, to bed. I love my boss. Today, he took the CM team (a total of five) out to lunch, on the company's expense. We mainly griped and discussed work-related frustrations. It was a great team-building exercise (a term I usually use in contempt); I returned to work energized by it. At which point he announced he plans to hold them every quarter. What a great guy. Had a good, productive day at work, then came home and watched the second Harry Potter film. I don't like it quite as much as the first, and having watched the deleted scenes, I can see why: quite a few important plot points were removed. More importantly, they removed several scenes in which Harry asks himself, um, about himself. He begins to analyze himself in this episode, which becomes an important theme throughout the series: Who is Harry Potter? Why does he have these powers? What makes him special? Who decided Harry should be placed here, now, with all these responsibilities and problems? And almost none of that is in the final film. Note that I'm not complaining, per se; the film's long as it is. But I wish they had cut down on some of the action/adventure scenes (the Whomping Willow, the flight from Eragog's lair) so they could fit in those more introspective scenes. I do think I'm going to pick up the third tomorrow and watch it tomorrow night. And I spent the rest of the night cleaning out my inbox, shredding mail, and processing a few eHarmony matches. Funny thing, eHarmony: Depending on my mood, it scares me, or I feel like it'll be a lot of fun. Sometimes both at once. Is it sad that I haven't really dated anyone until now? I keep telling myself: No. I've had my reasons to wait. I'm still wrestling with a few demons that I'd like to vanquish before moving forward, but if I did that, I don't think I'd ever do anything. I think I'll begin soon. Very soon. Just finished re-watching the first Harry Potter movie. I remember being impressed but a little disappointed with tiny things about the movie—I thought the big Quidditch match was a bit hard to follow, and it seemed they didn't cover near as much as the book did, and the performances were excellent but not quite everything I'd hoped they'd be. Now, with distance, my complaints have vanished like smoke up a chimney. Sure, it's not everything I wanted it to be...because I have my own version in my head, the book version, which is slightly different than the director's version, which is slightly different than the editor's version, which is slightly different than all the actors' versions, etc., ad naseum. I don't see how they could have done it better, given their constraints. I'm thinking of watching the next one tomorrow night, and possibly nipping out the next day to grab The Prisoner of Azkaban, which I still haven't seen, and watching it that night. This is to celebrate my completion of The Half-Blood Prince; I'm in a mood for Hogwarts and Harry. It's also fun to watch for certain lines and behaviors in characters, now that I know bits of their futures. There were a few lines that appeared to be almost throwaways, that are downright prophetic seen from the vantage point of book six. Work was—like most Mondays—productive but not as much as I'd like to be. This was the second Monday in a row in which I spent the morning organizing my projects, prioritizing my work. It makes the day feel short and relatively unproductive, but last week I was so much more aware of my priorities and able to schedule my work properly that I think it's well worth it. It was certainly like that today, which was so chaotic I twice had to completely rewrite my scheduled work for the day. But I got the most important things done anyway, as well as the urgent. I got home to find an e-mail from an Otherspace employee, with the latest Otherspace online comic, this one introducing Saalon. So I posted that, and took the opportunity to refactor the comics pages so that they'll display archived comics properly. Then, just to highlight the issue of Importance versus Urgency, over the course of two hours I received and made half a dozen phone calls from and to various friends. We're trying to schedule a going-away party for a girl who's going off to college, and everyone had settled on this Friday night. Well, I couldn't because of Otakon, and someone else dropped out, so we were trying to reschedule for another night. So I dropped what I was doing and made the appropriate phone calls and did some research, and we got that resolved, and I went back to my work. Boom. I do love being organized. Now if only I'd done all the things on my to-do list that I ignored so that I could re-watch the first Harry Potter movie.... Welll, that was fun. After a morning spent tearing through various chores in preparation for the day, I hopped in my truck and took a different route to GMU. I'd just received a SmartToll transponder, and was eager to try it out. I figured out a likely route, left very early, and got to GMU no sooner than I would have had I not taken the toll road. Well. Disappointing, but I'll try a few other alternatives and maybe I can shave ten or fifteen minutes off my hour-long commute. I arrived at GMU, walked in to the Johnson Center, and hung out for a while until the Otherspace crew gathered. We started the meeting, which was extremely busy; I had half a dozen agenda items to discuss. I also had the pleasure of distributing posters and business cards, which everyone was a bit tickled about. Then, two people interviewed with us, to help draw backgrounds. I hired both of them on the spot. One is an excellent graphic artist, the other draws lovely furry artwork. Great stuff. We finished up at 4:00, at which point I drove up to McLean Bible Church for Redemption. I hauled my stuff in to our room, then tromped up to the information desk to check our room reservation, which keeps changing around...and sure enough, we were in another room, across the hall. Okay. So I hauled all my stuff in there, and waited. Nobody showed up for awhile, so I tried calling them on my celphone, to discover I couldn't even send calls. I fiddled with it for awhile before discovering that the phone hangs up every time I try to use the touch screen while on the phone. I managed to make a few phone calls, and confirmed that two RPG friends were coming, at least. They were the only ones who could make it, and then not until 7:30. I had a wait of almost two hours. So I cracked open my laptop, wrote a bit more VR story, and re-read How To Be Creative. A productive wait, at least. Then the guys showed up, and we did some impromptu role-playing, first as soldiers during D-Day, the next as space marines on a ship taken over by aliens. Lots of fun. Then, home, and the rest of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Yep, I finished it, and it's quite a book. The plot leaps forward near the end, and Rowling is certainly setting up an amazing finale. She has amazing skills at plotting and pacing. I envy her. But then, she's written how many thousands of pages of Harry Potter? Woke up this morning and realized with a little dread in the pit of my stomach: I'm sick. I rolled over and took a quick inventory, letting myself wake up and gauging exactly how bad I felt. Okay, only "sick" in a general sense of malaise, slightly sore throat, slightly upset stomach, etc. Stress sickness, in other words. So I fired off an e-mail to various folks at work, telling them I was sick and would be in late. I took advantage of my time to stumble through my e-mail inbox, and blearily water the drooping plants out back. By the time I got in to work around noon, I was tired and moving slowly, but I could function, and I took care of a number of tasks both small and large. I only spent three hours at work, but I accomplished more than I do during some full days. Eh, life's like that, I guess. Swung by the grocery store for provisions, came home and cooked some beef with broccoli. I tried making it once before. The recipe said to pan-fry the beef, then pan-fry the broccoli, then put them both in the same pan for several mintues. Well, duh, it came out overcooked. The cookbook was clearly out to get me. So this time I followed my intuition, and it turned out perfect: The broccoli was still crisp, while the beef was soft and full of flavor. Ha! Take that, cookbook! Then, watched an old anime episode, did some weeding, and now I'm here in my big bedroom chair, typing away on my laptop. Not a bad day, overall, even if it is as hot as the devil's oven outside. Oh, by the way: No more VR story today. I'm stuck. I'll figure out what to write and will post more soon. Sorry about that, but I've written myself into a bit of a corner, and need some time to think my way out. Tonight was another complete waste. Work was exhausting; it seemed that everyone in my group was fighting fires that flared as soon as I stepped into the building. Nothing serious; just people who had to get this build done or other such things. Frustrating, since yes, we're supposed to help programs with their builds, but when every build is an emergency, that's not fair to CM, either. Plus, I took my phone in to get it serviced, as it kept dropping incoming calls. I waited over an hour in the store only to find that the (very nice) techs were stumped, too. They suggested I upgrade the OS to the latest version. I appreciated that the techs were polite and helpful, though. They were clearly trying to help everyone as quickly as possible while giving each person their full attention. Full marks there; the store was just stuffed with people who appeared personally affronted that they had to wait for something. So combine a long wait with very busy work and I came home utterly unable to do anything. I'd stopped off at the grocery store on the way home—hadn't gone for over a week, and was out of a few things—and ate a bit of a surprise: good grocery store pre-made Chinese food. Orange chicken on a bed of rice, still warm, microwaved a bit. Flavorful and filling; well worth the five dollars it cost. Yay! So I chatted online for most of the evening. Eh. There are worse things to do. No, I didn't update yesterday, and for no good reason. I was home most of the day, and didn't even accomplish much of note. I was waiting, again, for my Otherspace merchandise. Fortunately, it arrived, and the UPS guy was the nicest guy on planet Earth. And that's not relief speaking (okay, not much): he was cheerful, and asked when I got home. I replied that I usually get in around 5:30, to which he replied, "Okay, 'cause if you're not home during the day, I'll just come around later. I don't mind." Wow. My estimation of UPS just got turned right around. That's pretty darned good service. Anyvay. It all showed up: the posters, the t-shirts, the business cards. The posters are beautiful, the t-shirts could house a circus, and the business cards are set a bit oddly. No major complaints, really, even though the t-shirts are supposedly pre-shrunk. Well, I plan to put one through the wash tonight; maybe it will shrink to baby-doll size. Or whatever. I'm not complaining! Really. It was thrilling to receive physical products featuring characters that I thought up a few months ago. Now, we just need to make the frickin' animation. Oh wait! There is something I can complain about. Heard a knock at my door yesterday evening. That's always a pleasant surprise, since I know very few of my neighbors, and I've enjoy meeting them. I opened the door to a rather heavyset, older woman who peered at me from behind sunglasses. "Excuse me," she said, "I'm from the neighborhood association? I'm here about your yard." She glanced back at the mulch I'd laid on either side of the walk, along with liriope at intervals. "I need you to weed out your overgrown plants, and put in a little wall so that your....ummm....." She waved vaguely at the mulch. "...your whatever it is won't go onto the sidewalk. Understand?" I blinked, then smiled, and said, "Yes, I understand." Then she nodded and left. Y'know, it's sad that she's never met me before, and the first thing she does upon meeting me is complain about my yard. I should also point out that, when I moved in, my yard was completely empty except for grass and trees. I've done some work to make it attractive. So when I unexpectedly woke up early this morning, I pushed the mulch well out of the way of the sidewalk, and sprayed Round-Up on the weeds. And I feel impelled to point out that these "weeds" were things like clover that had grown up around the liriope. They weren't ugly; they were just unexpected. So. Whatever. I find it funny that the person whom I apparently offended with my uneven garden doedn't know what mulch is. I'm sitting on my couch, waiting for the UPS guy to arrive. As I've been doing for the past six hours. I arrived home yesterday to find that UPS had tried to deliver the Summer Storm posters, but I wasn't home at 3:00 (amazingly enough). The delivery rep left a note that he'd be back sometime after 2:00 today. So I got off work early, came home, and have been waiting ever since. Worse, UPS trucks have driven past my house three times today. I know, because I've been sitting on my couch, looking out at the street all afternoon and evening. ...Aaaaand I just checked UPS.com. According to it: "THE PACKAGE WAS MISSED, NO ATTEMPT WAS MADE TO DELIVER AS SCHEDULED." Wonderful. So not only did I have to miss half a day of work, I get to do it again tomorrow. I wonder if they'll remember to toss my package on the truck then? Briefly: Productive and tiring day at work, interesting RPG session, and rain. First, work. Not sure how to write this so that it won't sound incredibly boring, but here goes: I've had trouble keeping track of things at work. Oh, I could reply to an e-mail, or make up a sticky to remind myself of an ongoing project, or write in an appointment on my calendar. But I have quite a few ongoing projects (most of them small, piddling things), and I wanted to have a better handle on all of them. So I've started implementing the Getting Things Done system, which includes several neat little productivity gadgets: lists of Projects, lists of Actions, the 43-folder Tickler file, etc. But more importantly, it recommends a weekly review, in which you sit down and re-calibrate all of your projects and actions to ensure that you're keeping up with everything. I've been scheduling my work weekly review for Fridays. Seemed logical: Once the week is complete, tidy up everything. Didn't work. It never felt like the right day, and I was frustrated that I was getting my work straight and ready to go with the weekend right around the corner. Plus, I really didn't feel like maximizing my weekly productivity on Friday afternoons. So I moved my weekly review to Monday this week. Lo and behold, it worked wonderfully; I was motivated to have everything ready to go for the new week, and I was able to focus and organize it all properly. So, um, huzzah! The rest of the workday was full of productive work, which was good but tired me out. I went straight from work to the weekly RPG session, which was a tiring as well, for different reasons. I'm playing with a fun group of guys, and I certainly enjoy myself, but they get distracted a lot. Almost everything I say is greeted with a joke. They get involved when something particularly dangerous happens, but that only happens once or twice each session (and I can't lob life-threatening dangers at them every five minutes). I asked Saalon about this when I got home, and he promised to think about it and get back to me with some advice. It's just...frustrating that I can't seem to engage my players. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong, or what I should be doing to make it right. So I went home in the pouring rain. It's welcome, after at least a week in the tortuous 90's, but it fit my mood. As I've mentioned earlier on this blog, Saalon came up Friday night. He was here until Saturday night, and my goodness did I have a good time with him. He's just so easy to talk to, and full of interesting things to say. We both attended an Otherspace meeting, during which I interviewed a potential new animator. She wanted to know our process, pay, etc., and seemed a bit shocked that she could work at her own pace. And that we let people find work that interests them. It was gratifying, really; that's how I want work to be, and it's nice that this intrigues people. Saalon and I then played some Gundam War (a fun collectible card game set in the Gundam universe) and watched the MST3K episode, "Pod People." To quote Dr. Forrester, "It has nothing to do with Pods, it has nothing to do with People, it has everything to do with hurting." Terrible, terrible movie, made worthwhile by Joel and the bots' riffs. Huzzah! Since Saalon was here all day Saturday, I took Saturday as my day off, which meant that today (Sunday) was a day for chores and generally getting things done. I'm still a bit frustrated that I have to devote an entire day every week to these sorts of things, but otherwise they never get done. I did manage to accomplish a huge amount today, though, from gardening to cleaning to catching up a bit on Infinite Ryvius (which flatly amazes me). I even had time to stroll down to a local Italian/Greek restaurant and have a leisurely Gyro dinner as I read a few chapters of Romans. Meanwhile, one of the new features of the Otherspace website is a new comic spoofing the discussions we all have during our meetings. I'm very proud of it (though I neither wrote nor drew it; it's all done by our character designer/storyboarder/key artist extraordinaire). Mood: Content. It's always a bit of a shock to walk out of your place of work and see multiple fire trucks at the next building. Especially when that building is actually the main building of your place of work. Which is what happened today. Two fire trucks, plus several small support vehicles, like little dogs yipping at the heels of the Big Dogs. Lights blazing, of course. Turns out an A/C unit went on the fritz, or some such thing. Nobody was remotely hurt, unless somebody stumbled on the way out the door. I was walking out of work not to go home...well, actually I was. But not to go home for the day; I slipped home at lunch. I made soup last week; it needs to be eaten, and had forgotten to bring any in this morning. So, I drove home, cursing the dump trucks cruising along at ten MPH under the limit in the passing lane, slurped my soup (which sounds dirty, but isn't [unless you spill your soup {my goodness, it is dirty}]), skimmed a bit of a self-help book (a "YOU...CAN...conquer the world!" book, to quote Danny O'Brien), and watered a few garden plants that looked like they'd had three too many bourbons. Gardening consistently frustrates me. Not the gardening itself; my lack of time and money to make my gardens what I want them to be. I've been studying garden design for years—I have a bookshelf full of gardening books—but there's just no time to really dig in properly. I suspect I'll fiddle around with gardens for thirty years, then if I retire I'll actually be able to create an amazing garden, and everyone will wonder how I was able to do it in no time at all, and I'll grab them by the lapels and say, "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this? I could've done this two decades ago if I hadn't been working full time!" Or, not. Spent the evening on petty little chores, preparing for Saalon's arrival. I had to pay all my bills, a task I was not looking forward to, until I tucked into it and remembered that I pay all my bills online now. So now I can process six bills in a few minutes, instead of the half an hour it used to take when I had to fill out checks. Then Saalon came, and we talked until 2 a.m., as expected. More on that later. Oh, and note new VR story stuff, on the left. Hot. Hot, hot, hot. I went out for a walk today at lunch, and it was like stepping into a pizza oven. Fine day otherwise, though; clear and sunny. And hot. Spent most of the day preparing for Saalon's arrival on Friday. Then he called and told me he couldn't stay on Sunday, so I'll have at least that day to get chores done. Perhaps I didn't need to rush as much, then, though everything I've done needed to get done (house cleaning, for example...I don't want Saalon to walk into the house and immediately start sneezing, or tripping over large packages). I did order some cool merchandise for Summer Storm: business cards from 48 Hour Print, and thirty t-shirts from CustomInk.com. They should all arrive in time for Otakon in two weeks (two weeks!). And man, if you ever want t-shirts...okay. CustomInk has a beautifully designed website that includes a nifty little Java app that lets you pick a shirt design, upload your artwork, and position it on the shirt, so you know what it'll look like. I did so, and sent off my order. Half an hour later, I got an honest-to-goodness phone call from a guy at CustomInk, who asked if it was okay to tweak the artwork so that it would show up better on the shirt (the artwork is a bit sketchy), and if they could fix the bottom of the picture, which had been cut off. I said that that would be great. He replied that he'd do that, and that I should see an e-mailed proof in about an hour. Sure enough, just over an hour later, the proof appeared in my inbox. I approved it thinking, I don't think I've ever gotten this level of service from a web merchant ever. Better, the price is excellent: about $6 per shirt for thirty, and of course the cost decreases as you order more. If you want t-shirts, I can't recommend CustomInk highly enough. Spent the day staring down a document at work. I just couldn't muster up the courage or interest to power through it, so I whittled away at it all day. Could have done it in a few hours if I'd just gotten down to it. I have sleep like al Qaeda has a conscience, though. I've spent the past several nights staring at the ceiling for hours, tired but unable to drift off. Then I finally drift off, and at 5:30, a steady beep yanks me out of Slumberland: it's my roommate's alarm clock. He's been out the past few days, taking care of his son. I now know precisely how to turn off the alarm, and can do so while mostly asleep, but the clock's in the other room. By the time I collapse back in bed, oh, I do go back to sleep, but I don't get good REM vibes for the rest of the night. So life's been a bit of a haze all day: drive to work, work, drive to dinner. I'm having dinner with a friend, and I'm typing this as I wait for her to arrive at the restaurant. Got here a bit early and strolled around a nearby Toys'R'Us, observing the changes since my childhood. I don't remember my childhood being filled with so many bright colors, or slick packaging. Then again, I picked up a classic re-issue Transformers box of Thundercracker, and things haven't changed that much. The copy on the box was amusingly pointless, describing the character's various skills. We didn't care how fast Thundercracker was relative to Starscream; we just wanted 'em to shoot lasers at each other. There was a huge rack of collectible card games, including one especially for girls (featuring fairies and princesses, it seemed). Now there's a trend nobody predicted, and what a brilliantly simple game mechanic. The cards are relatively inexpensive to produce—glossy card stock doesn't cost that much—and players keep buying them to build up their decks. Makes me want to get in on the action. Actually, in a sense, I did: I designed a prototype collectible card game a year or two ago, called "Chaos!" I've still got the prototype sitting around, collecting dust. It's a hard thing to do, really. You have to ensure the game is balanced, but not so balanced that it's boring. My game also depended on various tokens, which would make the game less spontaneous than, say, Magic: The Gathering. Harder to just whip out a deck and play. Later: Had a wonderful time catching up with my friend. Got home and spent the rest of the night chatting with friends and watching Flash Gordon, which has a strange power: once I start watching it, I don't want to stop. It sucks me in very effectively. I can see why people wanted to go back every week and see what happens next. Ironically, the cliffhangers don't work much for me. So Flash is caught in the middle of an explosion; we know he'll survive somehow, as he always does. And I don't think audiences of the day were fooled, either. I think it would have been much more effective to end with a major character dilemma. If an episode ended with Flash having to choose between saving his own skin and sacrificing the lives of others, for example, I'd have been much more curious to see how the next bit. But did the writers ask me? Noooooo. Long, busy day. But a good one, as I'm apt to append. Work was pleasantly busy. I was prepared for grim battle with a document that required much less change than I'd originally thought, so by the end of the day I'd updated half of it. Since I'd thought the document would take me at least the rest of the week, that felt good. I also bought the first disc of the anime series Kodocha, and listened to the dub. It's a notoriously difficult dub; the Sana-chan (the protagonist) has huge lines delivered at a pace rivalling that of the Matchbox Car Guy from years back. It takes all the actors a few episodes, but by the end of the disc, they're doing a good job with their voices. I was pleased. Tonight was also a meeting of my writer's group, where I received final comments about one of my stories (which I can now clean up and send off to publishers, yay!). I thoroughly enjoyed myself as we discussed various stories and caught up. I also gave the group copies of my notes for a modern fantasy novel. Which brings up something I should mention. Last night, I was utterly unable to go to sleep. This was partly due to readingthe first two-fifths of Ricardo Semler's Maverick; more on that later. But as I stared at the ceiling, I came to a realization. For the past month or so, I've set aside an hour every night to write. This has been excellent writing exercise, but as I lay in bed I realized that my writing has prevented me from accomplishing important, day-to-day tasks like, oh say, mowing the lawn. Moreover, I'm laying the foundations of two novels now, the Young Adult Novel and the Modern Fantasy Novel. So I have all this time to write novels that I haven't plotted out yet. So I've decided to cut back on writing for the next month or two. I'll spend a bit of time each week outlining and brainstorming the two novels, plus writing more of the VR story to stay ahead. But I think this makes a lot more sense than just forging ahead because I've decided to set aside that an hour a day for writing. By early to mid September, I should have a solid foundation for each novel, so I can knock together walls and a ceiling in no time. About Maverick: it's essentially Semler's memoir about the history of Semco, a company he inherited from his father. Ricardo didn't much like the top-down, command-and-control culture, so he began applying democratic principles to the organization: what if, instead of managers deciding on a pension plan, employees could vote for the plan they'd prefer? What if profits were distributed to business units, and they were given complete freedom to share those profits as they wished? What if, every time somebody needed authorization for something, they asked a committe of their peers instead of a boss? Some things have worked, and some haven't. Most of them have worked swimmingly. Not only do people stay at Semco, it's an amazingly profitable business in an extremely difficult business environment (Brazil from the early 1980's). Fascinating, and it's made me think a lot about companies in America. Why are American corporations run like a Soviet economy? It's a command-and-control organization with a large bureaucracy, in which the lowest level generates the real wealth but that wealth is distributed mainly among the people at the top, most of whom blunder around with Five Year Plans and vague assurances to the public. Heck, there's even a Secret Cabal in the Board of Directors. Why not apply democratic principles to the business world? Who's to say it's doomed to failure? There are days when I love computers, and days when my computers respond to that love by biting my hand. I decided recently to shift my weekly duties around so that I'd have one day per week free from any chores. I could still fill that day with projects as I saw fit that day, but I'd have nothing scheduled for that day. Yesterday (Sunday) was my first attempt, and I only had one holdover from the week's chores: Backups. Well, that would be no problem; my backups are pretty well automated. It was time for my monthly backups to DVD, as well, but that wouldn't complicate things much. Sure. Everything went smoothly until my final backup. I ejected the backup drive and removed the Firewire cable...but OS X had not completely ejected the disk. I plugged it back in: Drive unrecognizable. Arrrg. OK, boot into DiskWarrior, which apparently can recover anything. Well, anything except this: DiskWarrior couldn't make heads or tails of it, either. So I raged for a bit. That drive had the last remnants of stuff I've been collecting for over ten years now: bits of fiction, articles written in a fit of pique, old audio clips created by friends, movie files culled from long-vanished back alleys of the 'net. Nothing that I needed, but they were all tethers to my past. I'd scan through them occasionally and chuckle at a clip of John Cleese or Rowan Atkinson. All gone. After an hour or so I calmed down, realized my frustration wasn't making the drive any better, and decided to go ahead and re-initialize the drive. As that commenced, I realized: This is crazy. I've spent most of my free day mucking about with backups. So I stood up, walked out of the house, and drove to my parents' house. I'd intended to do this, actually, and we had a good time eating dinner and generally chatting. There's something so relaxing about that: I don't have to be or do anything except myself, and same with them, so we can function together with almost zero friction. Got home, IMed with a few friends, read a bit of Candide, and went to bed at a very reasonable hour. ...and woke up at 11:00 this morning. Ack! Alarms went off, but in my bleary state I shut them off and went back to bed. I think the stress of the backup situation—and what a ridiculous thing to be stressed over—exhausted me. Got in to work to find that my main project had wanted to perform a build with my assistance this morning, but, um, I was fast asleep at the time. And I'd forgotten to give the password to my backup person. Oops. We got it straightened out, and nobody got upset that I could tell. The rest of the workday passed in a blur; I was supporting another project as well while a co-worker took care of other business. Which is a great way to pass a day. (Incidentally, I enjoyed Candide for awhile, until it became apparent that Voltaire was going to hammer his point through the table, the floor, the foundation, and eventually well into bedrock. I put it on my "Done" pile.) Well. This was not the best of days. I don't want to get into specific details for a variety of reasons. I think I can get away with this much: I got an emotional voicemail last night about Otherspace, and when I tried to return the call today, the person who called didn't answer the phone. So I spent the day in a state of anxious anticipation, and now I know I won't get back in touch with this person until at least Monday. Arg. And indeed, I woke up feeling poorly this morning, so I called in sick to work. Rather, e-mailed in sick. (Technology is amazing.) And because I was trying to return this phone call, I spent the day mostly in nervous anticipation, getting little done. I did manager to draw a couple of heads (as practice for my upcoming comic) and write about five hundred words of outline for my young adult novel. I haven't been able to figure out exactly what to write or where to start, so I figured I'd write a detailed outline and see where that takes me. A successful local writer writes outlines that are about forty percent as long as the finished novel, she says. Personally, when I have written to an outline, I've been able to write more easily and more directly. It's just not as much fun as picking up a plot thread and following it to see where it'll take me. But if this gets the book written, I'll do it. I also watched the first disc of Koi Kaze, a recent anime romantic drama about a thirty-year-old man who sort of falls in love with his fifteen-year-old younger sister. Which sounds either like a wacky comedy or a dreadful quasi-porn title; it's decidedly neither. He's very emotionally closed off, and she's just moved in after their parents divorced ten years ago. She idolizes her older brother, and she causes him to actually feel his emotions. So when he starts having feelings for her, he's even more conflicted than he would be otherwise. He feels terrible about what he's feeling, but then, he's feeling. Good but bad. And all presented with the utmost delicacy and respect for the subject matter. Highly recommended, if you like a series with no sweatdrops or giant robots. Oh, and there's more VR story. I'm getting fairly close to the end. We're within a few thousand words, I think. Well. This has been a rather bad day, with a good ending. The day started with insults. All digital: e-mails and forum posts making wild assumptions or withholding information. Made me stalk around a bit, alone, to let off some steam before replying graciously. I was apologetic for causing any frustrations or making mistakes. Cleared up what misunderstandings I could, and turned away from a discussion that got nasty. It was that or get really angry. On top of that, after looking over my finances recently, I came to an inescapable conclusion: I can't afford to keep Otherspace going at the moment. So I e-mailed the Otherspace team this morning to inform them of this, and that I hope to start things up again in a month or so. Man, that was unpleasant. I know my animators expect a regular paycheck, so if I'm not following through on that...I feel bad. I feel like I'm not doing my job. And I'm not, really; I should have handled my finances better. But, well, I didn't. So here we are. I'm not hugely depressed, just mildly disappointed in myself. Work went pretty well, and afterwards I swung by the grocery store for essentials, then home, where one of my Alibris books had arrived. It was Tom Peters' The Brand You 50, which I spent much of the evening reading. I'm taking its advice to heart. Which is: if you're a white-collar worker, your job is not guaranteed. Heck, it's almost guaranteed to not be around in ten years. So, go back to the way it was two hundred years ago: you're a colonial, a pioneer, and you have to chart your own destiny. View yourself as a company; you have to think about how to market yourself, position yourself, do research, etc. My initial response: I wrote down all of my major projects on index cards, and ended up with eight of them. I tore up half of them. I now have four projects on my plate: Writing my young adult novel, drawing a comic, becoming the Paranoid Masochistic Build Engineer for Syllable, and keeping up with Otherspace duties. Of course, that latter won't be much of a chore for the next month or so.... Okay, so, what have I been up to lately, you all may well ask? Or not; some of my best friends don't read this blog. Fie! Fie, I say! Whatever that means. Anyvay, I'm in an odd mood. I feel a need to describe my weekend, but it all seems so uninteresting, even to me. So, how to make it interesting? Let's see what I can do. Last week, I made plans with my parents to have them over on Saturday. This was to celebrate my new oven, which they graciously bought for me and was to be delivered Saturday morning. Why a new oven? Well, as I was warming it up about a month ago, the top heating element glowed white hot and began to spark. This struck me as probably outside of the normal operational range, so I switched it off; after that, the top element refused to even get tepid, no matter how hot the bottom element was. So. Me and my parents met at Best Buy, where we picked out a nice, new oven: fast-heating range, time delay so you can put, er, something in your oven in the morning and have it switch on at 4:00. I can't think of what I would want to place in a cold oven for eight hours before getting cooked, but who knows? Could come in handy. Two guys showed up at 9:30 Saturday morning to install it; neither spoke English well, but they were quick and efficient. My old oven was out and my new oven was in, clock blinking, within fifteen minutes. Amazing. I signed, and off they went. By the time my parents arrived, I had baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies. The oven works great, though it seems to be a bit hot. My parents and I had a great time, as usual, just chatting. For a good four hours. I baked a pizza and we just enjoyed each others' company. I spent Sunday wrestling with backups. Oh, the backups themselves are fine; I was testing them out. Which translated to performing a backup on Yasuo (my G5), then wiping the hard drive completely clean, re-installing the OS, and restoring from backups. I have a little script that restores the backups, but I hadn't tested it yet. So the morning was devoted to checking the backups, performing a local restoration of a few files, then a complete user account. Everything went smoothly. Then I held my breath and wiped the hard drive. Installed Tiger. Ran the restore script. Didn't quite work right for my main account, so I tweaked the backup script and ran it again. Huzzah! Success. Well, not quite. I had to re-install Microsoft Office and various Adobe applications from the CDs, and I can't open Matrix Experiments Lain in Adobe Premiere. But everything else seems to work pretty smoothly. But it's a good feeling, knowing that even if I suffer a catastrophic loss of my hard drive, I can restore everything on my computer within a couple of hours. Once that was done, I relaxed with Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team. It's blowing me away. It's a full-scale Gundam series, despite having only thirteen episodes. The protagonist's views on war evolve, he faces moral crises, there's a lot of great giant robot action, and there's even a romance that's much stronger than any I've seen in other Gundam series. Fantastic anime. Spent most of today at home. My parents bought me an oven for my birthday (may sound like an odd gift, but I requested it after my old oven died), so I baked some scones and worked on a few technical things. ...yeah, this is a pretty anaemic entry. But it's the end of the weekend, and I just don't feel like blogging. Haven't felt like it for a while. Don't have much to say, really. Been watching a lot of anime lately. Some might chuckle at this and ask, "Aren't you always?" Actually, I haven't been watch much at all. Just not been in the mood. But I've come across a bunch of oddball anime that really intrigues me. And perhaps that's why: One of the reasons I've been intrigued by anime is because it's been on the edges of society. When I first got into anime, the only place I knew of that actually sold anime locally was a Sam Goody, and that was a single shelf of VHS tapes (mostly Dragonball Z). I remember the day when Amazon.com started an anime branch of their DVD store...and it held about twenty discs total, as I recall. Now that anime has become increasingly mainstream, it's lost that magic, that unique quality. Which would explain why I leave my BitTorrent client running almost 24/7, downloading odd anime that hasn't appeared over here yet. Cases in point: And that's it so far. If I get some time, I'll write a description of my trip to D.C. on Sunday. Thrill! As nothing exciting occurs. Well. It's been quite a week. I had intended to spend last Sunday wandering through the museums in D.C. I suffer from a common affliction: the native who never actually visits the local famous landmarks. But when my eyes opened Sunday morning, I realized that it was September 11th, and I did not want to go into D.C. on the anniversary of 9/11 if I didn't have to. So I stayed home and worked my way through various chores and responsibilities. I even went on an hour-long run around town. As I huffed and puffed down the street, I came upon a park trail, which I took down a beautiful tree-covered path, under an overpass, along a rocky stream that chuckled at me as I ran. Heaven. On Tuesday, I left work early for an appointment with a local company that rents out office space. The company's offices were quite nice, but she didn't have the sort of space I need (collaborative space for eight to ten people). But when she took my card and remarked at how cool it looks, she asked more about Otherspace, and she ended up grilling me for fifteen minutes about how I started it up, what we plan to do, how we're getting by, etc. She was tickled pink at our whole venture, and she confided that she knows nothing about animation. When I left, I encouraged her to stop by our website to see our artwork, and she replied, "Are you kidding? I'm going right back to my desk to do just that!" So. That made me feel pretty good. I've read that a good litmus test of your idea is how excited it makes other people. Well then, I guess we're a guaranteed success. (No, I don't really think that.) Anyvay. Thursday night, I took my parents out to dinner for their birthdays, and showed them My Neigbhors The Yamadas. They loved it. I loved it. I love them. 'Twas all good. Then Friday night I and my parents went to the Kennedy Center to see the Lily Cai Dance Company. They presented three dances: a traditional Chinese dance, a modern dance set to the music of Mahler, and a Chinese ribbon dance. All three were breathtaking: beautiful, sensuous, captivating. Each girl had complete control over her body, curving it into beautiful shapes. And now it's Saturday. Shortly after waking, I emptied my inbox, watered the pots in my back garden, posted more VR story, then drove to a nearby farmer's market where I bought two peppers and three apples. Mundane, you may well think. But I brought them home and washed them, and bit in to one of the apples. It was like a dessert. Sweet as a candy bar, full of complex flavor, and perfectly crisp. Every bite snapped. This is the benefit of locally grown, organic produce: amazing food. (And cheap! $3.80 total.) In half an hour, I'll head out to this week's Otherspace meeting, which promises to be a short one. Then back here, where I plan to do laundry, clean house, run, check my financial account balances, pay bills, buy a couple books online, clean up my to-do lists, do my backups, and mow the front lawn. For a start. Looks like it'll be quite a day to cap off quite a week. Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I'm not dead. I didn't come down with the Mexican Whooping Grippe. I was not abducted by cute, big-eyed alien girls and whisked away on a wild interstellar adventure. I did not travel to a distant land to avenge the death of my master. I did not stumble into a giant robot fight and get caught up in a war. I did not lose myself, and I did not find myself. I've just been busy. More soon. Wow. Summer continues to impress with warm beauty every day. Fabulous. Meanwhile, quite a bit's been hapenning. I've been hunting around for a renter on Craig's List, and got a phone call on Thursday from a woman, asking if she could look at the place. She seemed reasonable enough, so she arranged to come over that evening. Turned out to be a very nice woman who liked the place, and wanted to move in. So I accepted. She's moving in around October 1st. So, renter problem solved. That was easy. Then today, we had several fairly major crises at work, and I had to smooth some rumpled feathers of people who seem to think that CM should be all-knowing and prepared for every possible situation. That was frustrating, but at least it was over quickly; I don't have any major problems hanging over my head. Except I do; the customer's coming in a week and a half from now for a big meeting, and I'll be chairing the meeting. For the first time. Gulp. I know roughly what I need to do—describe our agenda, write down Action Items as they come in, then re-iterate the Action Items at the end—but it's still a strange and amorphous duty that honestly freaks me out. But it's not all bad, by any stretch. Just stressful. Which may be what's driving me to come home and run for 45 minutes practically every night. Honestly, it shocks me that I enjoy it so much. Exercise should be hard. Anyvay, apologies for the rambling of this entry; it's late and I'm tired and I want to get to bed. So I will. Brainstormed a novel. Chatted with friends. Proceessed everything in my inbox. Made hard-cooked eggs for breakfast tomorrow, so I can start the day with some protein as well as my usual orange juice and Clif Bar. Did a load of laundry. Ran for forty minutes, and as I jogged down my neighborhood's sidewalk, I gulped in the fresh air and gazed at the star-studded curtain of the night sky. Perfect. From June through August, summer's been a crotchety old man. Not villainous, just a general obstruction to good times. It's been too hot, or too muggy, or constantly raining, or some combination of the three (occasionally all of them). Never to such an extreme that anyone can seriously complain; no heat waves or typhoons. Just generally unpleasant. Then this past week it made up for its past sins. Perhaps it realized everyone would grumble, so it decided to clean up its act. Every day has had a high of about 82, with a light breeze and a few decorative clouds dotting the sky. Perfect. This is usually the point at which the blogger makes an amusing counter-point that the week's been terrible, but I've actually had a great time. Went to my parents on Sunday and watched Ong-Bak, as decribed in my last entry. Last night, after a long day at work, I stopped by Suncoast and bought a variety of DVDs, including My Neighbors the Yamadas, and watched that last night. Wow. What a beautiful, touching, funny movies that is. Gorgeous. You'd never know it was by the guy who directed Grave of the Fireflies, "film most likely to make you slit your wrists." Though, now that I've seen all four of his movies, I suspect that Grave was more of a serious project that he did because he felt it was important. It was a story that needed to be told. It wasn't his story, after all; it was an adaptation of Akiyuki Nosaka's short story. Pom Poko has its serious side, but it's at least as much a comedy, and Only Yesterday is more like a romantic drama. Neither have near the weight of Grave, and both generally maintain a light-hearted tone throughout. Whereas The Yamadas is a straight-out comedy. Oh, there's one dramatic sequence that lasts a few minutes, but the rest of it is a series of unconnected sketches from the lives of these characters. It's not even remotely realistic. And it's thoroughly entertaining. In any event. I had another long day at work today, followed by writer's group. I was dreading that a bit because folks would be reviewing my preliminary notes for The Modern Fantastic, and while they're all great, I wanted to gird myself for their criticism. Not surprisingly, I received lots of great feedback that will undoubtedly make the book much better than it would otherwise have been. I came home energized and ready to write. So I re-watched My Neighbors the Yamadas. Great film. Just finished watching Ong-Bak, and what an enjoyable movie that is. Harsh, painful, serious...but there's lots of amazing action and stunt scenes. A good, good film. Sadly, my pounding headache insists that I write no further. Perhaps more tomorrow, as I'll have the day off. Briefly, I've had a pretty uneventful weekend. Did a bunch of chores Saturday morning, had a very long Otherspace meeting Saturday afternoong, mostly goofed off Saturday night, and went over to my parents pretty much all day today. Can't complain. Gah. Got back from running, which is good, except it's made me very tired, which is bad. I think I'm just not used to running, and I'm certainly not used to running for 45 minutes at a time. But I've been listening to EarthCore and The Three Musketeers. EarthCore is decently written but wonderfully performed by the author, while The Three Musketeers is brilliantly performed by an Englishman. The 45 minutes flew by. So now I'm tired. So no new VR story, I'm afraid. Hopefully, I'll be able to get to it tomorrow. My bed calls, and I can't resist. Which is saying something; I usually can't make myself get to bed. Well, that was most remarkable. I bought myself an iPod Shuffle today, primarily because of an article in Runner's World in which the author enthused over his times spent running while listening to audiobooks on his iPod. I've been thinking about running again after getting no exercise for the past few months, so I figured that $100 was a reasonable investment. I left the house at 10:00, recognizing that I can usually manage a twenty-minute run. Listened to a few podcasts. Got back into the house, sat down at the computer, and saw that it was 10:45. And I enjoyed every minute of it, chuckling along to TWiT as I wheezed my way around town. And how I'm all exercised 'n' stuff. I feel good. Woohoo. The rest of the day was similarly enjoyable. Though I've mostly rejected my earlier geeky ways, I still get a thrill whenever I buy a new tech gadget. The Shuffle is a beautiful little piece of technology; easy to use, nicely sized. Perfect design. So I was excited all day over that. And what a day to feel good. Warm, breezy. Palatial clouds drifted across the sky like swans on a lake. (Hey, that was a good metaphor! I should stop my writing vacation.) The kind of day made to lay down on a grassy knoll, close your eyes, and feel the breeze ruffle your hair and the soft grass tickle your legs. Spent the evening on boring technical stuff, updating security policies and passwords and such. Yawn. But important. Worth doing every so often, if just to prevent the crisis that would inevitably occur if you didn't keep up with it. I like staying home. I have a good friend who, if he's stayed home for an hour or two, is overcome with a need to go out, see people, and do things. I can sympathize, but I almost never share the impulse. I've made my home a place I enjoy living in. That's kind of the point of having a home, isn't it? Why not enjoy it? Which is why I spent all day yesterday at home (excluding a walk around town, which I'll describe a little later). I had good reason, actually; I wanted to make a few things for my parents' visit tonight. We're establishing a tradition that they spend Halloween evening with me, since they live in a neighborhood with few kids these days, and it's rather depressing to have a total of three kids stop by on Halloween. So, over to my place, where I get thirty. Anyvay, they'll be coming for dinner, so I wanted to have a few things on hand: caramel popcorn, a nice autumn treat; some bread for the cold cuts left over from the Pumpking Carving Party; and a batch of chocolate chip cookies just because I do that most weekends and the cookie jar was empty. After I stop by the grocery store tonight, I should have the following menu: So I made the popcorn, bread, and cookies yesterday morning, all of which went smoothly enough. In the afternoon, I helped Saalon set up his new blog, then went for the aforementioned walk around town. I live in an area that has a bunch of old houses, many rundown. Perfect for Halloween. I wanted to get some good pictures, but my camera doesn't do well in the dark, and I couldn't hold the camera still. But I ended up with 38 photos. Then home, where I watched several Japanese live-action TV dramas, and I think I'm getting addicted. Interesting acting, neat camera angles, tight writing, fascinating premises...and really bad video. Ah well. More on them later, once I've had the chance to ruminate on them for a while. For now, it's Halloween. Remember, you're entitled to one good scare. Meanwhile, Saalon is back, with a neat description of our hacker travails. Halloween Comes Once a Year, It's Almost Here, It's Almost Here After a day spent on chores and a productive Otherspace meeting that's uninteresting to anyone outside it, I sat down tonight to re-watch John Carpenter's Halloween. Every time I watch this movie—as I do every October—I am more impressed than I was the last time I watched it. It's not just scary. See, I don't like horror movies much. They're usually too silly or stupid or over-the-top or pointlessly gruesome. Horror movies seem to suffer from one of two unfortunate extremes: they're either too over-the-top and fantastic (e.g., the killer can leap two stories or fall from five stories and be fine) or they're relentlessly true-to-life, which requires victims who can't run faster than a trot. Halloween falls into neither trap. The villain is just on the cusp of supernaturally evil; he's surprisingly indestructible, yet real humans often survive the kinds of injuries that he sustains throughout the movie. A single-minded human could do all this. And that's what makes Halloween so dang scary. That guy could be right out on your street, and if he really wanted to he could kill you. He could break right through my sliding-glass door downstairs, detour into the kitchen, grab the butcher knife from the knife block, come upstairs, and how could I stop him? Throw books at him? Most of us couldn't stop a determined, strong man from stabbing or throttling us. But it's not just the premise that works; it's the execution. The movie presents relentlessly mundane scenes of girls chatting, trick-or-treaters wandering from house to house...and it all underscores that underlying horror that everyone is so vulnerable. A couple kids in costumes pass, and they're isolated and alone on those big, empty streets. There are no crowds in this movie, and that helps embellish the movie's feeling of isolation. It's rather remarkable that the everything in this movie comes together to work so effectively. The script is quite tight, building dread and establishing characters. The music is simply perfect; minimalist but spooky. The cinematography is as effective as that in any great film. The acting is...okay, much of the acting is acceptable at best, but it's helped by Jamie Lee Curtis' vulnerable yet strong babysitter character. And it all contributes to a film that manages to spook me out even hours after watching it. Well, the Pumpkin Carving Party was a complete success. I'm already planning for next year's, which I want to make even better. It came on the heels of a bit of a disastrous day at the office, from a productivity perspective. I could not make myself fall asleep Thursday night, so I ended up sleeping through my alarm this morning and got to work late. I'd scheduled a one-on-one lunch with my boss today, so that ate up an hour. Plus, I had to leave work early to get ready for the party. Fortunately, I'm mostly caught up at work, so this had no direct impact on my work. I was able to slide through work today, doing somewhat less than usual. I got home and made last-minute preparations. All the food was baked or otherwise prepared, but I still had to wash out a tub so we could bob for apples, and I had to assemble everything for transportation. This was a significant engineering challenge, as I had only one small pickup truck in which to hold: Plus, on the way there, I had to pick up meats, cheeses, and bread rolls for the main meal. I fit it all by putting the tub in the back of the truck and the two pumpkins in that, and the deviled eggs and Brain Jell-O on the seat next to me. Everything else fit on the floor or behind the seat. I muscled my way through rush-hour traffic to arrive only a few minutes late at a friend's house. I was thrilled to discover he'd invited a few friends to join us (I'd made it clear this party was open to friends of friends), so we ended up with thirteen people. A good number for a party. And all of these extra friends needed to shoot a short film for school, too. They remembered that I have actual film experience (thanks to Saalon's Dreaming by Strobelight), so I gladly helped out behind the camera. We assembled a fun, silly little interpretation of one of the Canterbury Tales, I think. I had tons of fun. I even showed them how to edit the film using their VCR, a skill I learned from my fellow AMV creators. Very cool. I didn't get home until 1:30 in the morning. Can't wait to do it again next year. Even though we never did bob for apples. My Mom just left after a wonderful evening. Don't have time to describe my day in detail, but briefly: I've read some fascinating, thought-provoking books, and applied them today, which has been enlightening. My Mom worked on lining my curtains while I baked cupcakes and made deviled eggs for the party tomorrow. We then watched The Twins Effect, a Hong Kong vampire romantic comedy action flick. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Meanwhile, note the new survey I've added to the middle of the page. I tossed it together today at work in some spare time, and it seems to work fine. Surveys may not stay around for more than a day or two, so if you want to vote, vote early. Also note that you can add an option to the survey. When you do, you automatically vote once for that option. Why am I doing this? To offer you a voice. I'd like my website to be a bit more of a dialogue than it's been in the past, and this is a way to let you provide your own answers to the questions I plan to ask you. So, please, if a survey's options don't satisfy you, add your own. HTML is automatically stripped, and you can't post links at all (I want to prevent forum spam from the get-go). I've also shuffled the contents of the middle column a bit, moving the latest photograph further down the column, so the recent books stay near the top. I hate nights like this, but I love nights like this. Get home late, thought that's because I stayed at work late talking to my boss. Cool guy. I scheduled to take him out to lunch on Friday, so I can get to know him better. Anyvay. Got home late. I needed to do some laundry, and sweep the downstairs. And with the Pumpkin Carving Party coming up in two days, I needed to make Brain Jell-O, and while I was at it, I might as well hard-cook some eggs for some protein in the mornings. And I need to draw character designs for my upcoming comic. And call back an Otherspace employee. And get some groceries, and fill up the truck with gas. So. Put clothes in the washing machine. Mix up and pour Jell-O. Hard-cook eggs. Put laundry in dryer. Go out, get gas, and buy necessary groceries. Sweep downstairs. Call back Otherspace employee. Two hours have elapsed, and I've done most of the things on my list. I hate nights where I'm going like a whirlwind, but it does give me a wonderful sense of accomplishment. And I do usually accomplish an astonishing number of things. Tomorrow night should be busy, too; my Mom's coming over to fix up my curtains and cushions, after she made me some which don't fit at all in any way. Very nice of her to do this, though. While she's here, I'll be making devilled eggs and cupcakes. And, hopefully, squeezing in some writing and drawing so I can post another bit of the VR story on Friday, and finish up these character designs by Monday. I hate nights like this, but I love nights like this. Well. A tiring day, but a good one. Spent much of the workday on little things, setting up various software environments and helping people with small problems. A good way to spend eight hours, really. Then I came home and began preparing for the Pumpkin-Carving Party on Friday. I'm preparing food in advance each day, and today I made another batch of caramel popcorn. Thanks to Chris' recipe (thanks, Chris!) I made it in no time at all, mainly by omitting the baking step. It was just as good as the baked kind I made a few days ago. Thanks, Chris! Then I worked a bit on character designs for my upcoming online comic. I've established hairstyles for all four characters, so now "all" I need to do is draw all of them from the front, the side, and three-quarters perspectives. I want to do that by the end of the month, so I don't have much time. Then I helped Saalon troubleshoot his blog. It still doesn't work, but now I've downloaded all his data and will be converting it to plain text so we can create a fresh blog and re-upload the data. We should be able to finish that within the next few days. All this activity helped pull me out of the funk I've been in for the past couple of days. It's been minor, but persistent, and probably a combination of the steady rain driven here by Hurricane Wilma and a sudden phone call from Bank of America about my Visa card, on which I owe quite a bit of money. I have a handle on it, but it still had me depressed. Interesting, isn't it, how I was pulled out of my depression by concrete projects with firm deadlines? Work isn't such a bad word after all.... To Brennen, regarding #48: I'd love to be a participant in that discussion amongst your friends, but conclusions? Come now, I think you know better than that. Even if we all did reach any conclusions, I'd be immediately suspicious of them. I think the fact that we all can take the same data and arrive at different conclusions is one of the unique benefits of being human. Oh, and thanks for your recommendation of The Stainless Steel Rat some time ago; I read the first novel about a week ago and "Slippery Jim" DiGriz charmed me off my feet. A fabulous book, and a great example of the kind of SF I'd like to revive: wildly fun adventure. Ask not about Friday! Friday was a black hole into which my time descended, and did not return. I did nothing, and didn't even really have fun doing it. Oh! I did watch the first episode of Ghost Stories, a bland and predictable anime that the American licensor completely rewrote and redubbed into a grown-up spastic comedy. Hilarious. Not so much Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo, an anime adaptation that's just too weird and experimental to be engrossing. 'Twas an interesting visual experiment, but I had no desire to watch more. Today was better, though it started off worse. I've had the hankering lately to try my hand at making caramel popcorn from scratch, so this morning after getting up, I printed off four internet recipes and started in. The caramel was pretty simple, really: melt a stick of butter with 1/4 cup corn syrup and a cup of brown sugar until boiling, then let it boil for three minutes, then add 1/4 teaspoon baking powder and a teaspoon of vanilla. Unfortunately, I had prepared all this in a medium-sized pan, and when the baking powder goes in, the mixture poofs up. Out of the pan. Onto the burner. Okay, so long story short, I started a fire. It was a small flame, though; I just moved the pan to one side and let the caramel burn over, and the fire went out as I was opening windows and the sliding glass door nearby. Well. Would I let that stop me? No sir. I let the caramel in the pan blacken and cool, then poured it into the trash and started again, this time on a lower heat (so it wouldn't be as liable to burn) and in a large pot. This time, no problems, and after adding the baking powder easily poured the bubbling caramel on the popcorn and peanuts. After mixing that all up, I spread it out on baking sheets and baked it for about fifty minutes at 250°. Every ten mininutes I opened the oven and stirred the mixture, to really get the caramel coated on everything. Turned out quite tasty, though it could use a teaspoon of salt. Oh well; that'll be good for next time. As that cooled, I fired up Navi and worked on my yount adult novel. I've always had a tough time sticking to longer projects, so with this novel, I'm trying a new approach: I'm writing increasingly detailed outlines. The first outline was a list of eleven plot points. Today, I finished the second outline, which is about 4,500 words describing the main action of the novel—who does what, the broad mood I want to set in each scene, etc. With that done, I can now go on to a much more detailed outline describing exact character movements, rough dialogue, etc. I hope to finish that by the end of November, so I can complete the first draft by the end of March. Here's hoping. Well. A scheduling error caused me to sleep in this morning, which made me an hour late for work. Fortunately, this wasn't a problem in terms of the work itself; it just meant I had to stay late to make up for it. Also fortunately, I had two major projects to accomplish today, and together they took exactly eight hours to complete. I walked out of the office building with a spring in my step, knowing I had done at least my full share of work that day. ...and came home exhausted. It was partly the psychological effect of coming home later than usual; it just felt like the day was long, despite my working no longer than a normal day. So I watched The Halloween Tree and episode two of Densha Otoko. If you're not interested in odd animated Halloween specials or Japanese dramas, feel free to move on. The Halloween Tree could have, should have been brilliant. It's got beautiful, detailed, atmospheric backgrounds. It's got snappy direction. The voice actors are solid and easy on the ears. The character designs are generic but at least not ugly (the girl, in particular, looks quite cute). If only it wasn't animated by Hanna-Barbera. There are plenty of cels; it has a very good budget by Hanna-Barbera standards. But...for instance, when four kids are being blown by a fierce wind, their bodies undulate up and down like flags. Real bodies don't move like that. The characters feel like they have no weight to them; they're just floating on the backgrounds, being pulled along by the animators' whims. I'd prefer if they moved oddly like characters move in anime; in this, they move like...well, like Hanna-Barbera figures. If you're going to make a cartoon scripted by Ray Bradbury, and even get him to narrate, can't you at least have it well-animated? Anyvay. Densha Otoko continues to kick my awesome. The nerd... ...has just asked the girl... ...out to dinner. And gone shopping. And he really looks nice. I can't believe it, but I'm really rooting for the guy. This is great stuff. You can download the episodes via BitTorrent at TV-Nihon. Wow. I am exhausted. Just got back from a Chinese dance presentation at the Kennedy Center. It was fabulous—a combination of modern dance and martial arts, kind of. The second half was rather slow, as it was just people contorting their bodies to the sounds of bells (bells without melody, too), but the first half was a dynamic set of dances, some energetic, some mysterious, some tragic. Great stuff. But I woke up a little after midnight this morning and was awake for three hours. At least I got quite a bit of Otherspace work done as a result, updating the website and checking on a few miscellaneous things. But so yeah, as if the late night weren't enough, I'm operating on too little sleep. My bed lays next to me, beckoning me, and I think I'm going to throw myself into its welcoming arms now. The Chinese are cool. It's been a good weekend, if not productive in my core projects. Even so, my parents were so gracious to take me out to breakfast Saturday morning, then helped me repair my backyard fence. It's a standard white picket fence that's seen better days; the wood's rotting and several pickets have been missing since I moved in. In fact, I've been using an old wooden pallet to block a large gap in the fence. But Dad had some spare boards that he was able to cut and paint and use as pickets, so we all spent about an hour fixing the fence up. Looks quite good now. I then drove to GMU to meet with another potential Otherspace artist. She wants to draw backgrounds, which we very much need, and I ended up spending an hour and a half explaining our processes to her. She was very interested in everything we're doing. She was a good example of the difference between someone still in college and someone who's graduated. She graduated awhile back and has been working for a while, and she naturally asked a lot of questions about the company and was generally very engaged with me. When I interview folks who are still in college, they often ask only a few questions before saying that, yes, they'd like to work. Completely different. Anyvay. I spent today (Sunday) catching up on chores, and watching episode one of Densha Otoko, a.k.a. Train Man, a live-action Japanese drama about an anime fan who helps a girl on a train, and develops an incredible online support network of fellow netizens to advise him as to what he should do next. Once I got used to the over-the-top action, I became hooked. The show's packed with anime jokes (most of them Gundam-related), which helps, and they use a number of songs to set the mood. Heck, the first episode opens with various shots of real-life otaku hangouts set to Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto. So, needless to say, I'm downloading episode two now. I'd wait to buy a legitimate release, except that I doubt this will ever be released in America. Heck, it looks like even the Japanese release won't have English subtitles. So, there's one sale they won't get. Ah well. (Oops. Forgot to post Friday's entry, and to upload more VR story. Done.) It's been a very weird October. Temperatures have hovered in the high seventies and low eighties every day until this week, when a deluge of rain has dropped temperatures to more seasonal levels. It's still very comfortable for mid-October; I went on a brisk walk today and had to remove my jacket after a few minutes. But a stubborn net of clouds still clings to the sky, with only rare gaps allowing glimpses of blue. Frustrating. It's October, two weeks from Halloween, and I want blustery winds with clouds sailing like merchant ships through that odd slate blue that so often tints autumn skies. I'm also impatient with my young adult novel, as I'm nearly done with the second outline (of three). Another hour's worth of writing should bring me to its conclusion. This is the five thousand word version; the first one was an eleven-bullet summary, and the third will be a stripped-down version of the book itself. You could call the third version "draft zero," since I won't even try to write pretty descriptions or get the characters' voices exactly right. It will be the humanoid lump of rock which I will then chisel into a fine statue. So, I “only” need an hour to finish outline two, but an hour can be difficult to come by. I've got that, plus Otherspace, plus drawing, plus Syllable build attempts. And anime. I have far fewer projects now than I had even two months ago, but now that I can devote serious amounts of time to each project, I'm just as busy. I'm much more productive, though. I just sat three rows from a stage where I witnessed a complete production by the Peking Opera (the Chinese entertainment form that essentially spawned kung fu movies). It was indescribable. The costumes were prisms painted on silk. The acting was intense, powerful, moving, and at times overtly funny. The acrobatics were fantastic—rarely has anyone in the movies done better, and these somersaults were performed twenty feet from my head. The music...well, I could get used to the music, but I was annoyed by its simplicity and lack of melody. Not my kind of music. But it's amazing to think that that's my only complaint. Fantastic. Well, this Hungarian Whooping Grippe or whatever it is really knocked me for a loop. I've been out of commission for the last seven days. And for a guy like me, that's frustrating. I did manage to catch up on my reading, though. I powered through all 534 pages of Disney War, an account of Michael Eisner's time as head of Disney. Boy, that was an eye-opener. Eisner's not quite the guy I imagined him to be; he's cluelessly drunk with power. He made a lot of excellent decisions, but he apparently couldn't stand the idea of someone threatening his position. He consistently bad-mouthed each executive who might be a possible replacement (or even right-hand man). He made a lot of enemies. Sad. I also re-read From the Dust Returned, a recent book by Ray Bradbury that collects and re-spins several of his spooky short stories into the tale of a Twilight Family, an Addams Family. This is quite intentional; he and Charles Addams had plans to collaborate on this book decades ago, with Bradbury providing the stories and Addams the illustrations. Bradbury wrote a few stories in preparation, but it never came together, and now that Addams is gone Bradbury put together the book, at least, and had that published with Addams' wonderful original concept illustration as the book cover. Addams wanted it to be “a sort of Christmas Carol idea, Halloween after Halloween people will buy the book, just as the buy the Carol, to read at the fireplace, with lights low. Halloween is the time of year for story-telling.” And it is certainly that. It's part of my October ritual, where I read and watch a number of moody Halloween works, including: And I'm back out of business. That cold nabbed me again, and I spent the last three days in bed. I'm just well enough to come to work today, but I suspect I'll crash again tonight. I have been watching some anime. Specifically: More once I've recovered. Which hopefully won't be too long. I'm back in business (mostly). Worked a half-day at work, and that partly because things are quiet there. I've powered through pretty much all of my work, so I cleaned out my inbox and took care of a few things, and generally went easy on myself to prevent a relapse of this cold. Got home to a couple of phone calls, both of which were good. One of them makes me feel very good about Otherspace, and the other was a chat with a friend. I felt so good that I made sweet-and-sour pork, wrote eight hundred words of outline for my young adult novel, and drew half a dozen heads of hair in preparation for my comic. I think I've figured out something important about how to draw hair; I've been trying to draw individual strands, when actually I should be drawing more of the overall shape of the hair, and adding the strands as details. But the hair as a whole is made up of strands, so I'm drawing a flowing, watery shape more than a solid shape. I can't describe it, but I think my brain's wrapped around something important. Lessee. In other news, I've re-watched the first two episodes of Planetes, which was as good as I remembered. It's a hard SF show set seventy years in the future, about a group of astronauts who deal with space debris. Though, being good anime, that's only a small fraction of the story; it's also about perseverance, and honor, and heroism, and friendship, and justice, and a bunch of other things that I can't even put into words. So, good good stuff. So anyway, yeah, I'm feeling better, and things appear to be on an upswing. And just when I get a little more interested in blogging, a cold grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and threw me into bed for a few days. It's been pretty bad yesterday and today; so bad that I'm staying home from work today. Don't want to infect anyone else, though I got it from work. This same nasty cold has been leaping from cube to cube. It's the current office joke; someone will be out for a day or two, and the rest say, "Ah, must be that cold." So I've spent a fair amount of the weekend watching anime, particularly After War: Gundam X and ZZ Gundam. I'm enjoying both for very different reasons; X has accelerated its character development and is (as of episode 15) moving along at a nice pace. And it's refreshing to watch a Gundam series that's more focused on the action/adventure aspects of the Gundam experience than the "War Is Hell!" drumbeat of many other Gundam series. I'm only three episodes into ZZ (well, two really, since episode 1 is just a clip show summarizing the first two Gundam series), and it's fun, too. It's certainly more light-hearted and comedic than any other Gundam series I've seen (though Turn-A comes close), but I mean that in a good way. ZZ isn't a screwball comedy; it's a Gundam series with more comedic bits than other Gundam shows. Again, refreshing. And with that, I'm going to go drink some orange juice and think for a while about some things Brennen just posted to his blog. My apologies for the scattershot nature of this entry, and the lack of an update yesterday, and a late update today. I've been working ten- and twelve-hour days to support a computer that can only be used after business hours. This is my last day of it, though, except for one more day next week. And it's affected my sleep patterns in very odd ways. I got home last night and went straight to bed. Tonight, though, I'm wired and can't make myself to go sleep. I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing; I suspect it's neither. Or both. It just is. Meanwhile, my mind's been percolating with suggestions from Tom Peters' Brand You 50, in particular his suggestion to catalogue 25 observable aspects of ourselves. That is, if someone were to judge you (not negatively), what are some things they'd use to do that? Things like hairstyle, posture, even handwriting. I've only managed to catalogue twenty, but even that has revealed a few things that I'd like to work on. It made me realize how much I'd like to improve my handwriting. It's a bit better than the "chicken scratches" that everyone I know describes their handwriting as, but it could be a lot clearer. So I did a bit of Googling and found Dyas A. Lawson's Tips for improving your handwriting. Briefly: When writing, hold your fingers still, and move your whole arm plus a bit of your wrist. I tried it, and it made my handwriting a lot easier to read. Takes a lot of practice before it becomes natural, but then, doesn't everything? Ha! I never described how Thanksgiving went. In a word: Perfect. All the food was delicious, nobody stressed out, we all chatted pleasantly, we went on a brisk walk around the neighborhood, and we watched two Jackie Chan films (Dragon Lord and The Medallion). We ate succulent turkey, flavorful stuffing, plump sweet potatoes, corny corn muffinsh, and thick slices of apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Couldn't be better. As mentioned before, I then spent the weekend on various purchases. Friday night, as I lay in bed thinking about the morning, I had an idea shocking in its odd yet perfect logic: I needed a coffeemaker in my bedroom, despite not drinking coffee. No, all that anime hasn't rotted my brain. My morning pages (three pages of journalling in the morning) have become a tradition, but I've had difficulty waking up in time to write all three pages. I usually wake up to the alarm, then lay in bed luxuriating for half an hour or so. I realized that, if I had a hot cup of tea waiting for me, I'd be much more inclined to get up immediately. So I bought a cheap, programmable coffeemaker and set it up for the next morning. I woke up and listened to the tea cough and burble into the carafe, and up I sat. Went right over, poured myself a steaming mug of hot tea, sat down at the desk, opened my journal, took a sip of the tea...and nearly spat it out. Tasted horrible. But I was up and journalling. I still don't know why it tastes so bad. I've washed everything, but maybe it needs a more thorough cleaning. Very odd. But I still get up. And I do enjoy the mornings, especially calm, grey mornings like this one. It rained last night, and the sky was that lovely, velvet grey that looks soft and inviting like a worn blanket. The street outside was still empty, but with a promise of further activity. Kids were no doubt lined up on the corner farther down, craning their necks to look for the school bus, another week of lessons and friendships begun. And I'm preparing for another week of work, to which I'm increasingly looking forward with good anticipation. Tom Peters writes about "reclaiming work from Dilbert," that we are not simply slaves to corporate culture; we're accepting slaves. We not only work in insane bureaucracies, we sit back and take it. No. No. We can reclaim the idea of work as a fun, amazing, exciting thing to do. We can leap into our workweeks with the ferocity of a pit bull and the excitement of Peter Pan. We can become masters of our own work. And I suspect most of my readers are rolling their mental eyes, saying, "Yeah, right, whatever." I was the same way. But I've been thinking about this, and observing my work, and wow do I have opportunities to reclaim my work, to stake my claim, to turn this mundane project into an experience that makes people gasp in awe. Why on Earth would I want to settle for mediocrity when something like that is possible? Spent the afternoon Christmas shopping, it being Black Friday and all. I surprised myself: I have presents (or know exactly what I'll be ordering online) for everyone on my list. I usually suck at Christmas presents, but this year, for some reason, I'm on the ball, and early. Now if I can just get all these presents shipped in time, which is one disadvantage of having so many online friends. While I was out, I bought a few things for myself, including a Hartley & Marks journal, the Generatio. Its cover is the beautiful image from the Book of Kells above. I've resisted buying an expensive journal, but I've also heard that you'll write more if you own things that make you want to write. And I've been wanting to write in this thing ever since I laid it out on my desk. So, I suppose, it's true. Because I increasingly believe that knowledge workers can't afford to let their skills atrophy, I've been learning the Python language lately. To learn it, I started a simple project: writing a text adventure (like Zork, only much less ambitious). I just finished it and uploaded it, so now you can explore Castle Doune yousrelf. (Castle Doune is the name of the first castle seen in the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The layout of the game's castle is similar to the layout of the real castle.) I finished it this morning, actually, as I waited for my parents to arrive for Thanksgiving. I baked an apple pie last night, and will be making muffins once they arrive. Mom's bringing potatoes and the pumpkin pie. I'm looking forward to it greatly; this has become a family tradition. I've been in a sysadmin mood lately. I want our server to be a model of efficiency and automation. I want us to be able to recover instantly in case of disaster. I want to describe our setup to other people and hear them reply, "Wow." Partly, this is because I've been re-reading Tom Peters' Brand You 50 at work, a few chapters at a time. Here's one of his suggestions (paraphrased): I agree, which is why I just set up a cron job that backs up all web files changed in the last 24 hours. Hey. You're working on stuff. What would it take to turn that stuff into "WOW!" work? Why not do some of it? Sorry for the long down-time. Our server died almost exactly a week ago, and we've had some trouble with our provider in getting it back up and running. Suffice to say that we appear to be back to normal. It's been a nice day, really, dependig on your definition of "nice." It's been cold and drizzly all day, but that's felt cozy to me. Perhaps it's because this feels like the first real day of winter we've had. It's been cold lately, but only recently has the wind swept through and tugged most of the leaves off the trees. Now, the naked trees standing against a stark grey sky symbolize winter. It feels like the perfect day to wrap yourself in a blanket, wrap one hand around a mug of hot chocolate (complete with wraiths of steam dancing above the rim) and with the other hand open a good novel. The Three Musketeers or Treasure Island would be good; something adventuruous and out of the ordinary. Something to take you away from the blasted cold and rain. I spent the weekend at Anime USA, mostly sitting behind a table at Artist's Alley. I didn't sell anything, but I talked to a fair number of folks, and gave away a lot of business cards. It was a success in the sense that I got the word out, though it was certainly a failure financially. Oh well. I'm just not a salesperson. Don't have time to write much. Just got back from a performance of Chinese acrobatics, incorporating a lot of the maneuvers of the Peking Opera with the concepts of Circus acts (juggling, unicycles, etc.). No clowns, thankfully. It was a good day, if short. Unfortunate that I had to spend so much of today catching up; Sundays should be days of rest. Next Sunday will undoubtedly by the same, what with Anime USA that weekend. Ah well. Just returned from a wedding, in which the groom is a friend that grew up next door to me. We played practically every day, then drifted apart. A story as common as grass. And now he's married. That was a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride. I'm a bit jealous, honestly; his bride looks terrific, in all the best ways: fun, vivacious, smart, pretty, thoughtful. I have nothing. I've never even had a girlfriend. But I looked at the two of them and realized that the groom could have taught me a few things about getting a girl. He searched for a long, long time. If I had nurtured that friendship, kept up with that connection, I would at least known more than I know now. Tom Peters writes, "YOU = YOUR CONTACTS." More accurately, the better your contacts (and your connections with those contacts), the better you are. Very true, in the working world as well as the personal world (and, of course, business is personal). I need to invite a few more people over for lunch or dinner. Starting with this friend, perhaps. Well. In my previous entry, I wrote that I'm thinking of pitching some animation ideas to Cartoon Network. That was Wednesday. I've spent the past two days under an almost unceasing assault from my Inner Critic, insisting that I not do that. That I'd be better off abandoning all my creative projects, in fact. That I'd enjoy myself far more if I spent every evening watching MST3K re-runs and anime. That I'm crazy for thinking that they'd actually accept my pitch, and even if they do sign me on, what then? Like I'm going to really be able to deliver a TV animation on time. To which I have listened, and ignored. It's good to hear these things. It's made me realize how much I fear success. The idea of really starting a full-scale animation studio scares me witless. It excites me, too, but it's really scary. I'd be providing livelihoods for dozens of people. I'd promise to deliver a heck of a lot of beautiful, life-affirming animation. <gulp> But at the same time, I'd be creating beautiful, life-affirming animation. I'll be making something of beauty, that people will watch and think about. I'll change people's lives, hopefully for the better. That's worth listening to a whiny Inner Critic for a while. I just got off the phone with Saalon, with whom I talked for, um, three and a half hours. We talked about anime and the nature of work for about half an hour, then I dropped a bit of a bombshell: I think I'm going to go to Atlanta and pitch some animation ideas to Cartoon Network. I have a startup animation company. They take pitches from people with a lot less than that. I gather that producing a short animation would be good, but I don't need it to get in the door. So why not just walk through the door? So I asked Saalon to write me a treatment for an idea he's been champing at the bit to do: a fifty-episode Gundam-like series. Giant robots. War in space. Some teenage angst. We won't duplicate Gundam, not will we make an homage. We (or rather, he) will be taking everything that we think Gundam does well, subtract everything we think it does poorly, and adding in our own tastes and interests and feelings. Meanwhile, I'm going to work up some treatments for some other shows I can pitch to the network. I want to pitch a "World War II in space" show, complete with Big Band music and hot shot pilots. I want to pitch an animation variety show. I want to pitch some amazing animation aimed at girls, for a change (why does the largest gender demographic get so few good cartoons?). Because I'm not going to wait. Well, except that I'll wait for concept art. But after that, I won't wait. Tonight, I needed to rest. Work passed as a dim grey blur. Accomplished little of any consequence. As I drove home, I stopped by the library and picked up about eight different books, most of them about finding a sense of fulfillment at work. As you can imagine, this has been on my mind quite a bit lately. I blame the season, actually; it's been getting dark about when I get home, now, and we had some cold temperatures lately. After the Indian Summer of the past two months, I feel like I've passed straight from summer to winter, with no chance to get used to it. Perhaps I've been touched by Seasonal Affective Disorder. Either way, I knew I wouldn't be able to make progress on my projects, so I dedicated the night to flipping through the library books. I'm taking care of my parent's golden retriever this week, so she lay at my feet as I skimmed business books. I will admit, it made for a satisfying and recharging evening. And now, partway through Tom Peters' Re-Imagine, I'm beginning to grok his larger point about the fundamental changes to work in the 21st century. I have to completely re-think my job now. I can't rely on...well, anything. Anything. I am going to have to be C.E.O. of Brent, Inc. Because my current job just won't be there soon. And, if you're working in a white collar job, you're probably in the same situation. Agh, it's half-past ten, and I need to get some sleep, so I can't justify this. I am increasingly convinced that it's true, though. And it means a radical reinvention of self. Which, on reflection, is a good thing. Amazing how one little thing can upset your entire day. I'm taking care of my parents' Golden Retriever, Molly. She's a sweetheart, but she's an added responsibility, and I have to keep reminding myself to feed her, fill her water bowl, let her outside, etc. But that's not what upset my day. I felt a profound lack of energy today at work. I performed a build this morning, which was good and important and is my core duty at work right now, then for the afternoon I felt worthless. No amount of breaks or recharing helped. But that's not what upset my day; in fact, I think the upset caused my lack of energy. I woke up sleepy this morning. I got to bed a little late, and I awoke groggy. And it suppressed my energy for the entire day; I've felt a little spacy ever since. Amazing, that my entire day can be made much less effective than normal by one seemingly minor physical disturbance. Anyvay. A quick round-up of what I've been watching lately: Just went to the theater and watched Chicken Little, which I thoroughly enjoyed. A shame about the negative reviews; I don't know why people expect The Incredibles from Disney Feature Animation. Those are some amazing animators—the character animation in Chicken Little is jaw-dropping for their first CGI film—but what was the last great Disney film? They're hamstrung by their writers. (Not that the writing was bad, either; it just isn't as strong as the other great animated films made in the past few years, such as Spirited Away and The Incredibles.) Anyvay. Got back, talked on the phone with Saalon about it for a while, as I drank tea and ate cookies in my back yard, basking in the perfect weather. Mostly sunny, mid-seventies. The clouds are moving in now and they threaten rain, but that's okay. This has been a very, very good day so far. And it should be even better tonight, as I plan to spend a good chunk of the evening on my major projects: writing Giant Armors and drawing. So what made the day so good? It wasn't just because I was relaxing. I'm not, really; a movie is not a relaxing experience. Talking with a friend is not really a relaxing experience; it's energizing. I'm feeding my values. Animation is important to me, which is why I decided to see Chicken Little (otherwise why would a 29-year-old single guy pay seven dollars to see a CGI cartoon?). Keeping up with my friends is important to me, which is why I called Saalon. Writing and drawing are important to me. And I've spent time actually sitting down and thinking about what's particularly important to me. Lots of things are important, but we each have certain values and virtues and desires that have strong meaning. One person has strong feelings about the environment. Another has a strong belief in building community. Neither is wrong to pursue that particular feeling with unique passion. But how many of us have sat down with pen and paper, and asked ourselves, "What is particularly important to me? If I took away everything anyone's ever told me about my likes and passions, what would be left?" I've done it. Have you? Why not? There's some new VR story over there. Meanwhile, I've more than doubled my productivity at work this week. How? Ritual. I just finished a neat book, The Power of Full Engagement, which suggests that the proper management of energy, not time, is the most direct route to personal improvement. They point out that you can expend and recharge energy—physical, mental, emotional, and spritual—a lot like you exercise a muscle: stretch it for a while, then rest for a bit. So, during a work day, instead of trying to expend your mental energy for eight straight hours, you take a break every hour and a half or two hours. But how do you remind yourself to take those breaks, especially if you're not used to taking them? Rituals. Here are the rituals I made up for myself earlier this week: I'm sure I'll change these over time, but they're a start. Because I'm now forcing myself to take breaks from my work every hour or two, I don't get nearly as tired throughout the day. At 4:00, I have about 80% of the energy I had at 9:00 in the morning, whereas until now I've had almost no energy in the afternoon. So, want to increase your productivity? Break up your day into smaller chunks, and force yourself to take those breaks. It feels completely unnatural and bizarre. It's hard, but it's worth it. What do you want to be when you grow up? That sounds a little patronizing, I know. But it's easy to have big dreams about things you've always wanted to accomplish, then leave them as big dreams. What is the one thing you'd really like to do someday? Or two things? Or three things? Writing a novel? Visiting Mt. Fuji? Finding the greatest cheesecake in the world? Create a cool game? Well, you can. It's possible. But it's hard. And that in itself is an interesting problem. People talk about how hard it is to do certain things, then turn right around and explain that they got in through a lucky break. Or simple persistence. How is that hard? It's hard because it's hard to change ourselves. The roadblocks to greatness are the ones inside ourselves. So how do we go about changing that? There are a bunch of ways, and I've been reading about them a lot over the past few years. I think I'm now ready to write about them, and provide my thoughts on them, and hopefully provide some sort of synthesis of many different approaches to self-improvement. Once I started changing myself, my world began to change. Previous impossiblities—like starting an anime studio—started to become more than possible; they started to happen. I was living my dreams. I want you, the people reading this blog, to live your dreams. Eric. Brennen. Stephen. Alice. Chris (both of them). Some of you are on that path; some aren't. Doesn't matter. Even if you're on your way, I think I can provide you with a walking stick and smooth out some rough terrain. Because it's hard. But it's so worth it. After all my preparation for my parents' visit last night, I got a phone call yesterday morning. It was my Mom, telling me that one of the dogs woke up very sick and was...let's just say, making messes all over the house. There was no way they could come. ARG! That threatened to spiral me into a depression that would have put me in a funk all night. I had food, and plans, and everything. But, no. After half an hour or so, I decided that I would not let myself spiral into a funk. Instead of focusing on what might have been, I focused on what I had: a movie to watch, a book to read, trick-or-treaters to greet, and plenty of good food. Can't ask for more than that, really. So, it was a good night. I got thirty trick-or-treaters, though two were giggling high schooler girls, and one was the woman who used to live here. Which was odd in itself. I opened the door, and there was a woman, who announced, “I'm here to tell you to leave!” “...What?” I replied. “Now that I'm here, you have to move out!” “...Huh?” Then she explained that she used to live here, and I said (quote), “Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” and she looked at my bowl and exclaimed, “OOOH! Full-sized candy bars! Can I have one?” I said sure, so she took one, and her son took one, and she left. Oh-kay. The movie was Nosferatu. Compared to Halloween, which just gets better each time I watch it, Nosferatu gets more boring. It's a good film, and certainly a classic, and it does some amazing things—the shot of Dracula rising out of his coffin is still genuinely horrifying—but the shots last a bit too long, the acting (Max Shreck excepted) is embarrassingly over-the-top, and...well, frankly, we've seen all this before. Yeah, that's because everybody's copied the plot of Nosferatu. But that doesn't keep it from being boring, and I think it's revealing that other horror movies (like, um, Halloween) don't suffer the same problem despite sharing that limitation. Anyvay. The book was October Dreams, a beautiful anthology of horror and thriller stories and remembrances, all focused on Halloween. (I use the term "thriller" as opposed to "horror" because a lot of these bits aren't meant to horrify as much as to spook and thrill). Great reading, and I've made it a habit to read it every October. Some of the stories don't hold up to frequent re-readings, but many of them continue to pack the same punch they had when I first read them several years ago. In other news, I've been reading a lot about energy and productivity and time and focus, and I plan to write quite a bit about them in the near future. As such, this blog might become a bit more screedy than usual; I'm going to try my hand at provocation. I'm very much not a pushy person, but I'm feeling and thinking some things that I want to challenge the world about. I'll start you thinking with a quote from Tom Peters: The bloom is off the rose. As of today, I'm officially tired of my vacation from all media. But that's good, actually. That's an opportunity for me to examine my reaction and figure out what that means. Why am I tired? Why do I want more input? Here's what I figure so far: I like to learn and I like to teach. Those are pretty intrinsic to my nature; I've been doing both, happily, for many years now. When I'm separated from all media inputs, I can't learn. That goes against my nature, so it's not fun. On the other hand, the first half of this week has shown me that a lack of input can give me a huge amount of focus. I've been much less scatter-brained this past week than I usually am. So, clearly, cutting back on media has been helpful. The question is, how much should I cut back? At this point, I know that I want to cut back on the amount of media I take in each week. I'm planning to establish a budget on media each week: no more than five hours of DVD watching, for example. If I break these limits, nothing will happen; the point is to have a visible limit, so I know when I'm consuming more input than I had planned to. I'll see how that goes once I'm back to normal this Saturday. Though I won't really be "back to normal" until next Monday, since I'll have a pretty busy Saturday (Otherspace meeting, plus hosting my parents for New Year's Eve) and Sunday (parents staying through New Year's Day, and possibly role-playing that evening). (A few side observations: I haven't missed the web at all. I have missed e-mail, and I think I didn't need to eliminate that. I would have benefitted from more contact with people, not less.) Gee. Everyone's staying away from their blogs this week, it seems, except me. And I'm the one avoiding media, so I should have the least to talk about. Instead, I feel like blogging. Hmmm. That's causing a few neurons to fire. The media avoidance has made me realize just how media-saturated I am. Well, and it's not just media; it's raw input. I have a lot of stuff pouring into my brain at any given moment. Imagine this scenario: I'm in line at a coffee house. I'm thinking about what to order. In front of me hangs a huge menu of choices, and each choice is competing for my attention. Pop songs are playing loudly enough for me to understand the lyrics above the din of conversation. I'm smelling several different brews of coffee. That's a lot of input. I come home and I have DVDs to watch, magazines to read, mail to sort, e-mail to answer, and possums on my back fence. No, really: This little guy sat on top of my back porch all Monday morning. After a cold snap last week, we've had warm weather recently, which has thawed out several inches of snow. I suspect my little friend's burrow flooded, so he was spending the morning drying himself out and waiting for his burrow to dry out. Poor thing. Totally unafraid of me, though; let me get right up next to him and didn't even bat an eye. I guess that's what comes of less media input; I notice things like this. Had a good Christmas. It was "just" me and my parents, but that was plenty. Which sounds like a snarky put-down; it's not. A weekend with my parents is joy. I love every opportunity I have to spend time with them. I wish I had more time to spend with them...though on the other hand, I have to balance that desire with an understand that I have to live my own life. In any event, nothing of major import has occured lately; the major news of the moment is this: My one-week vacation from all media has begun. What does that mean? No TV. No movies. No DVDs. No newspapers. No magazines. No radio. No books. No web. None of it, at all, until the weekend. Have I been completely, totally faithful? Well, no. I watched quite a few episodes of Good Eats today. But it's the principle of the thing, and it's made me really think about the amount of media that I let into my life. Without it, I have all sorts of time. And I have to ask myself: Is it all worth the time I put into it? What do I get out of the local paper? What do I get out of the latest blockbuster movie? Which is not a rhetorical question. I do learn and benefit from those things. But at what cost? So. This webserver died a few days ago, which is why I haven't been updating recently. I'd explain, but I don't want to risk the ire of my current hosting company. Suffice to say I'm less than thrilled with their service. Though it was kind of nice to be away from e-mail for a while. I sure had a good bit more time for other things. Such as "liming." "Liming" is a term used by some Caribbean population to refer to their night-time parties. See, each morning, they'd show up for work bright, energetic, and happy. They'll work hard throughout the day, then at the end of the day they stop and party all evening and well into the night. Then they repeat this every day. Foreigners were amazed that they could keep up the pace. The natives explained that, when the ships from the Old World came, the sailors were always sick from scurvy...until one ship came with lively sailors who had brought limes to punch up their cuisine. And of course, the citrus in the limes prevented scurvy. The Caribbeans adopted the word to describe their own practice of allowing "the spice of life" to completely consume you while you're off work. Of completely recharging every single day. So I've been "liming." Yesterday, that meant going to my parents' house for dinner and staying until well into the night, eating and talking and laughing at terrible old TV shows. Tonight, that will mean watching a lot of Good Eats, or otherwise just letting go. Wish me luck. Long, long, long week. Mainly due to work. I have essentially two duties there. One required a lot of work this week, and the other required a ton of work this week, most of which culminated in a Friday spent almost despairing at my work load. I got it done, pretty much. I still have some work left to do, but I turned the tide and acquitted myself with honor. But it wiped me out in the evenings, which explains why I haven't been writing in this journal much this week. The other reason for my silence is that I've been rather more silent lately. I've been thinking about myself, and observing my routines and habits. I've been asking myself a question: Who am I? That may sound trite. To be more clear, I've been examining my actions. How do I sit when I talk to people? How long do I take to get out the door in the morning? How do I spend my money in a given week? And what does that say about me? The old cliché says that actions speak louder than words. One of the problems with old clichés is that they're usually true but misleading. More accurately, people see your actions and give them a lot of weight. Your actions are usually given much more weight than what you say. Moreover, if you say one thing and do another, it's the action that you truly believe in. So I've been paying close attention to my actions, and noticing when my actions don't match up to my beliefs. For example, when I talk to people, I like to "zero in" on them, paying close attention. As I've paid attention to my actions, though, I've noticed that I tend to relax my body and sit/stand in a pose that signals uninterest. I lean back, put my hands behind my head, and so forth. This is because I'm trying to pay so close attention that I want my body as relaxed and uncomplaining as possible. But I'm sure it signals to other people that I'm not interested. So I've been changing my posture as I talk to people, and sure enough, they act more engaged when I talk to them. So that's a good thing. Above is my Christmas tree for this year. Turned out quite nice, in my opinion. I gathered a small collection of eight or ten ornaments from my parents this year, and put up my first real tree. The ornaments look okay, actually; my fears that they would look scarce were unfounded. Instead, it looks...understated. Well, and the billions of candy cances help. I'm getting back into development for Syllable Why? I like the community. I like the idea: an easy-to-use OS for home and small office users. I'm impressed at the scale of the goals; this is definitely a WOW! project. I like the possibilities. And I like to write code, so why not? ...except I'm the guy who always has too many irons in the fire. I already have half a dozen major projects in the works: the VR story, my young adult novel, Syllable.org itself, DAMmachines.com. Where will I find the time to write Syllable code? Actually, I have an answer for that. I'm setting aside about an hour every day to work on a major project. Divided amongst these many projects, that's not much time; some will only get an hour per week. But it's some time, at least, and I can do a fair amount of work in that time. Worth a try. It's Monday, so I'm feeling fine. Wrote three pages in my paper journal this morning, slammed through my morning routine, took out the trash, and arrived at work fifteen minutes early. Had an easy day, taking care of a few things and talking to my boss. I felt like a professional. Just got home and slammed through half a dozen little chores. I'm on top of the world. Much like Jackie Chan in The Tuxedo, which I watched last night, as a very lame segue. I liked it more than I expected. It has some wirework, but less than I thought it would, and it had a tighter script than most Chan films. And it's very nicely lit and filmed, which helps. They needed a dapper British guy to play the gentleman that Jackie drives everywhere (and eventually takes the place of). So they got Lucius Malfoy. Almost impossible to watch without wanting to rip his eyeballs out for trying to kill Harry Potter. Ah well. He did a great job nevertheless. I didn't bake as many cookies as I'd hoped; I only have six batches complete now, which is four short of my goal. But then, my parents were here for most of the day; my Mom sewing curtains and my Dad cleaning up the grout in my little foyer for me, so I was spending a good amount of the day with them. Plus we went out to lunch. Not that I'm complaining at all; we had a great time, and I'm always glad to have them over. I should be able to finish the cookies this week. In fact, I may be able to make two batches tomorrow, since I have two doughs sitting in the fridge. Saturday was a bit more exciting; I had an Otherspace meeting. We're making good progress on the DC Anime Club TV ad, but more importantly, I had a great time at the meeting. We were comfortable. We chatted and laughed and worked. It was exactly how I want this studio to be. Woke up to a veritable winter wonderland, but one with a deadly secret (dum dum DUMMMM): the snowstorm ended with a finale of sleet, so the roads were like frozen ponds. As I journalled and sipped a cup of tea, I saw people carefully maneuvering their cars onto the roads, and decided to wait a little bit before heading to work. I'm glad I did; the day was comparatively warm, so that by the time I left, the roads were covered mostly with slush. And there's new VR story up. I'm not maintaining a large buffer of content, but I'm not sure if I need to; I've nearly finished the story. There's probably less than two thousand words left to the VR story, which kinda amazes me because I've been writing it for two years now. Two years. And it should be over in a couple of months. At which point, I want to completely rewrite it. But such is the nature of writing. By the way, I didn't bake any cookies today, despite having such an easy day. Spent quite a bit of time at home, but spent it working on online projects or goofing off watching MST3K. Oh well. Woke up and felt like chewed bubblegum. Shot out an e-mail to folks at work, explaining how I felt and that I'd be in to work late. Not a problem; my calendar was clear today, and the program for which I'm responsible is hosting its customer today, so my "bosses" would be plenty busy without me. So I got an extra couple of hours of sleep, and woke up feeling refreshed for once. Zipped in to work and took care of a few things, then came home a little early to get started on my baking. Thus begins Christmas Cookie season. As I've mentioned to practically all of my friends and acquaintances recently, I'll be baking about ten different types of Christmas cookies this weekend. To start off, I'm baking some of the more difficult cookies each night leading up to Sunday, when I'll roll up my sleeves and bake the rest. Tonight's challenge: Candy Cane Cookies. They're two strands of dough, one white and one red, twisted into the shape of a candy cane. They look great, but they're a pain to make. You have to make the dough—which is near the consistency of bread dough, quite tough—and twist it into the appropriate shapes, despite it falling apart, then bake it for quite a bit longer than the recipe calls for, then transfer the cookies to the baking sheets without moving them too much or they'll fall apart. I still have nine of them whole. :sigh: Ah well. I've been reading a book on the early history of jazz. The book's titled, appropriately enough, Early Jazz by Gunther Schuller. It's a fascinating study of jazz from the turn of the century through the thirties, mostly because Schuller dissects jazz musically during this time. He'll write paragraphs of intense explanation about a particular song's swing. Great stuff. And it's fun because it satsifies my curiosity. I've always wanted to know more about jazz, and to be able to appreciate it. This book is my first step. I picked up the book from the library because one of my self-help books (The Artist's Way at Work, actually) recommends satisfying your intellectual curiosity at least once per week. And this is. And it feels so, so good. Meanwhile, I came across this as I finished my (third?) re-reading of Tom Peters' Brand You 50, and very much wanted to share it with you wonderful people: We are sick and tired of whining about lousy bosses. (Or companies.) It is—as we see it—our life. To live...or lose. To form...or allow to be formed. Dilbert is hilarious. (I.e., on the money.) And there's the rub. Dilbert stands not only for cynicism (an emotion I appreciate) but also for the de facto acceptance of power-less-ness. Power-less-ness ... at the coolest time in centuries to make a mark. And that is where I draw the line! It is my life. To live fully. Or not. And I damn well intend to live it fully. And I don't think I'm alone. Man, long day. I was kept at work late again tonight, so that I ended up working a ten-hour day. Long days like that are why I gave up programming as a full-time job. Not that I wouldn't consider a full-time programming job in the right environment—proper pair programming, pervasive unit testing, a "WOW!" goal. Until then? Nah, I'd rather go home at five. But it was a long day, not a particularly hard one. I spent much of the day puttering around the office; I've been working so hard for the past week or so that I decided to take a day "off" and straighten up a few things. I'm glad I did, too; I feel more rested now. I can feel myself settling into my routines. I'm more comfortable taking frequent breaks to walk or get a cup of tea or what-have-you, and I'm meditating more often. I'm also stopping my online conversations at reasonable hours now, too, so I can get to bed and to sleep. Rituals have surprising amounts of power. OK, yeah, haven't updated this since Thursday. But! I spent Friday moving Syllable.org to a new server (which involved hand-tuning a lot of code that didn't expect to suddenly be in a subdirectory), and Saturday I had an Otherspace meeting, then went straight from there to Guy's Night Out. And I spent Sunday just relaxing, which I very much needed. The Otherspace meeting went exactly as I hoped it would: we divvied up responsibility for the new commercial we'll be working on, we had a lot of good discussion, and we did a good amount of work. I felt energized when I left. And I arrived at Guy's Night Out to a small gang of friends that one of the regulars had invited. Which was fine; just a bit of a surprise to see half a dozen teenagers. Not sure why I was surprised; he said he'd invited a bunch of guys. In any event, this was to be a special night: one of the regulars is now stationed in Japan, and I'd agreed with him to try videoconferencing with him. So I set up the camcorder and logged online, but he wasn't there. So we started the first movie (The Creature From the Black Lagoon), then stopped and had dinner. He still wasn't online. We finished Creature...and he still wasn't online. We watched the last half of the first Rurouni Kenshin OVA. Still wasn't online. He watched an MST3K episode. He never came online. Still, we had a good time. Creature was a solid (but dated) little monster film, Kenshin was as brilliant as I'd remembered, and MST3K was hilarious as always. As mentioned before, Sunday was a day of rest. I watched some Gundam, some Digimon, and a couple episodes of Densha Otoko. Major, silly frustration: I thought I had all ten episodes of Densha, so I was looking forward to finishing it. But when I got to the end of the tenth episode, it was a cliffhanger. I yelled in surprise and hopped online. There are eleven episodes. Arg! So the eleventh is downloading as I write this, and I should have it by tonight. But, you know, it was my mistake, and it's rather selfish to complain about forgetting to download the final episode of a bit of entertainment. It is a fantastic bit of entertainment, too. Like most good Japanese shows, it's good comedy, and good romance, and good drama. And this show understand the dynamics of the internet as well as any other series I've ever seen. The online community that forms around Densha feels exactly right, and that's no small accomplishment. In any event, that was my weekend. I've had some other little frustrations, but I have other things to take care of now. Until later.... Well, I'm beat. I've been suffering from weird sleep patterns for the last few days; I went to bed at 9:00 on Tuesday, then on Wednesday couldn't go to sleep until 2 a.m. I came home from work early and slept the afternoon away, and now I feel exhausted. Weird, and a bit frustrating. I've also spent the past few days supporting Saalon as he attempts to assemble a video for a youth group he's working with. I feel bad for him. He signs up for projects that have vague requirements, only to find out that the requirements are not all that vague. People actually do know what they want; they just don't communicate it well. The same is true in software. A customer can provide detailed requirements, but those requirements don't necessarily communicate what the customer really wants. And it's not because there's something wrong with the customer; most people just have a tough time formulating an exact vision of their desires. They don't have a clear idea of what they want until they see some an actual implementation, at which point their subconscious can tell them, "No, I don't want that; I want it more like this." I've noticed the same as I use eHarmony. When I first started using the service, I had no idea of what I wanted. As I spent time looking at literally hundreds of matches, I realized I needed to narrow down my search, so I scheduled some time to sit down and brainstorm my ideal wife. 'Twas quite revealing; I realized that I want a quiet, bookish girl, similar to myself, who thinks deeply. That said, I don't want a complete book nerd. That became my template, and my search became much easier. That experience opened my eyes to the number of girls whose specifications of "what they want" were so vague as to be almost useless. "I want someone kind, who I can talk to." Well, duh; who says they want an abusive, uncommunicative boor for a husband? Anyvay. Good news on the Otherspace front: we're going to start work on a 30-second TV commercial for the DC Anime Club. The animators came up with three ideas, which we presented to the club president. He picked a Dragonball Z parody, so we'll be mapping out the work on that whe we meet this weekend. I'm looking forward to it; it'll be a nice break from our Summer Storm work, and something to keep us busy as I build up some cash. Speaking of which, I may have a renter! I spoke with a very nice guy who's looking for a room to rent just during the week, as he's commuting a long way to work a few minutes' away from here. So he'd basically just be sleeping here, which works nicely for me. It seems pretty ideal to me, though now I need to contact the other potential renter who disappeared for a while, and check on her availability. I'd complain, except that I'm complaining about finding different ways to make money off my spare room. Ain't that bad. Doing your work isn't always fun. In fact, it's usually not fun. But that's not quite right either. While I'm doing it, it's fun. Getting to that point—pulling out the laptop, opening the file, reading through what I've written so far, typing the first few words—that's not fun. But, when you turn pro, you realize this. You accept that it's not fun. You do it anyway. You realize that the not-fun setting up is just a prelude to a lot of fun. And, if you keep on pushing through that not-fun, you eventually look back and realize that you have a lot of work done. Like today: I'm over seven thousand words into the rough draft of Giant Armors, which amazes me even as I type this. That's about a quarter of the entire novel; maybe more, depending on how the rest of it goes. Tonight, I'm cleaning up a last few grammatical stains and blemishes, then submitting the first chapter to my writing group. Hooray! I have actual, real content to show to other people. And that's fun. I'll also note I've re-arranged this journal layout yet again. Now that the VR story's done, I don't really need the center column, so I removed it and put the rest of the stuff that was there over in the left-hand side of the page. I'm still not completely satisfied with this layout, but then I've never been completely satisfied with my journal's layout. Ah well; I can always do a bit more tweaking. From a song I woke up to this morning: I take this to mean that you're not judged based on how much effort you put into your work; you're judged based on your work. Very true. And not necessarily a bad thing. I just discovered that the Atom feed on this site no longer worked, thanks to advances in the Atom specification. It should work now. How did I discover this? I've subscribed to my own journal in my RSS reader. This keeps my own work "in my face," so I immediately know if something goes wrong. And Resistance struck again. I received some upsetting news from my parents last night. Not exactly a death in the family; just some further developments in an unfortunate family dispute. It was a bit depressing. So, today, I wrote another few hundred words of Giant Armors. Not because I wanted to. I very much didn't want to. I was upset by this news, for real and legitimate reasons. But if I'm going to turn pro, I'm going to have to do my work no matter what. Even if I'm a bit depressed. Even if there are other distracting problems in my life. Even when it's difficult. I did my work. Not as much as I would have liked to, perhaps, but I did it. I feel very good about that. I saw The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe this weekend. High production values created a solid film. I have my quibbles, but they're just quibbles. What struck me most about the movie was that it could have been made five years ago. The technology certainly existed then. Narnia presented no particular technical challenges beyond those faced in, say, The Fellowship of the Ring (though it certainly benefitted from the problems worked out in the Rings films). So why wasn't Narnia made five years ago? Because the right people didn't have faith in it then. They had to see a successful, big-budget fantasy film before they'd believe that people would go to see Narnia. If The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe had come out before The Fellowship of the Ring, imagine how much more popular it would have been. Imagine how much more money it would have made, as people marvelled at it. All it took was faith. Quite possibly the single biggest limiation on my lifestyle is finding the time to work on all my projects. Note: I have time to work on them. The problem is making sure that I get around to each and every one of these projects regularly. Right now, I have the following major projects: Now, some of that gets done "in the cracks" anyway; if I'm bored, I'll pull up Anime News Network or watch an episode of anime. The problem comes with some of the more difficult jobs, like website development. It's very easy to let that slip for a week or two. And if it slips, so what? Well, some of these projects are being done for other people. Since I'm "turning professional" (in other words, everything I do is professional-grade), I don't want to leave my work for them hanging for a long time. How to solve this? Well, I have a few systems I'm working on. I have a card listing each of my projects taped to the side of my monitor, so I can easily glance at it. I've written my projects up on my whiteboard, along with the dates I last contacted my client on that project. None of them are working, though. I'm beginning to wonder if I would benefit from having something huge that bugs me constantly. Don't know. I'm still working on this. Any suggestions? Bankrupt airlines should not be given bankrupty protection. They should be allowed to die. I do not want to pay (through my taxes to the government which provides this bankrupty protection) for a bankrupt airline. I'd rather two-thirds of the existing airlines die, if they can't figure out a way to stay profitable. Just got back from a visit with my parents, where I partook of an excellent Chinese-style meal, helped my Mom with her Motorola Razr phone, and filmed myself in their basement. Filmed myself in their basement? Yeah. It's for an advertisement that Otherspace is making for a local anime club; part of it involves a shot of an otaku sitting in a basement somewhere, looking bored. So I volunteered to be that otaku. Turned out pretty well; I look appropriately spacey. Meanwhile, I spent the end of this week recovering from the beginning of the week. Which is good, of course; lets me catch a breather and get back into the swing of things. As a result, I haven't done much of anything, though. Very little progress on Giant Armors, and practically nothing on anything else. Oh well; it's not like I have deadlines on these things. No, this isn't going anywhere. It's late on a Friday night, and I'm tired. Haven't gotten quite enough sleep lately, so I'm functioning in that zone where you're awake, but...slightly drained. Like someone's cast a "Shortened Attention Span" spell on you. OK, enough of this rambling. Time for some SLEEP! It almost got me! Almost. Resistance came this close to derailing me today. It started yesterday, as I realized that I need to completely rewrite chapter one of my young adult novel, Giant Armors, within the next day or two if I want to get it to my writer's group in time for them to review it by our next meeting. So I knew I'd have to get some writing done at lunch today. So this morning I slept through my alarm. I sent an apologetic e-mail in to work, then went out to my truck to discover a $100 ticket because I don't have a city decal. Great. I got in to work to discover a surprisingly unpleasant e-mail from a customer. Looking back, I think it wasn't directed at me, but it was still a shock. And, while the symptoms of my illness are gone, I still don't have all my energy back. I was feeling despair. I didn't want to do anything. And I realized that Resistance almost had me. It was keeping me from my novel. It was using these events as roadblocks to finishing that chapter. And it almost had me. My back straightened. At lunch, I sat down and re-wrote the first four hundred words of chapter one of Giant Armors. It's been a bad day. And it's been a very good day. Saalon writes about his pretty bad year. Here's the comment I left on his blog: I'm reminded of a concept from the book "Mastery:" The learning process is not a steady ride upwards. It is a series of plateaus punctuated by upward movement. Most of one's time is spent on the plateau. So, the book contends, learn to appreciate the plateau. Understand that you are just building up to visible growth. When a house is built, the builders must first dig down into the earth and work below ground before the building begins to rise. Would've written something scintillating on here, except our server was down...again...all day. I am powerfully resisting the urge to explain things here, as that would probably be bad for me. Meanwhile, my illness has relapsed (with a sore throat this time) and while my day has been relatively enjoyable, I've spent all of it waiting for this server to come back online so I could do StUFF with it. :sigh: Amazing what a few days of illness can do for a person. Seriously. Sure, I spent much of that time watching anime and Good Eats (finished season seven!), but I also spent a fair amount of it doing nothing. Just thinking. And that's a very good thing. I also re-read more of The War of Art, and contemplated turning pro. And then began to turn pro, in my writing and for Otherspace. In fact, yesterday, while I was still feeling sick, I wrote another five hundred words of the rough draft of Giant Armors. This doesn't deserve honor. Man is guaranteed only his work, not even the fruit of his work. I simply worked. Though even that caused me some consternation. This novel is taking me quite awhile to write. I'm a little unsure about my experiment of writing multiple, increasingly detailed drafts, since it takes so long (comparatively speaking) to write each draft. I want to get this thing over and done with. On the other hand, that's part of the experiment. I want to try it out, work it over, see what happens. Maybe this will take too long, but I'd rather follow the experiment all the way through to the end than cut out partway through and never know the exact results. So, I'll continue on. Speaking of finishing things: I just posted the final bit of the VR story. It's over. Finally complete. I started it over two years ago, and now I've finally reached an ending, 25,000 words later. I don't particularly like the ending, nor the crazy, chaotic path I took to reach it. But at least I reached it. Maybe someday I'll revisit this and turn it into a more reasonable story. Who knows? In the meantime, I'll continue my work. Started re-reading Steven Pressfield's The War of Art last night. What an amazing book. It's been another good swift kick in the seat of my pants. I've let Resistance whittle down my work on my novel. I've accepted rationalizations and let time slip by. No more. Today, now, I choose to work on that which furthers my purpose in life. In other news, the VR story will end this Friday. Really. I plan to post the final snippet on Friday. I suspect nobody will like the ending. Heck, I don't like the ending. But it's the only ending that I think is appropriate. And I'm back online. Boy, that was an experience. By the end, I craved more media. I wanted easy stimulation. And that worries me. Stimulation is easy, sure, and it's not necessarily bad, but it's not necessarily good, either. I wonder if I wouldn't be better off with fewer distractions. Or maybe I just shouldn't rip myself away from all media for such a long period of time. Oddly, I most missed DVDs, not books or the web or newspapers as I'd expected. I really want to be able to "zone out" to a brainless DVD like an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000. What if I "zoned out" by just...well...sleeping? Or at least dozing or something? Or look at a fire or out the window instead of re-watching Manos: The Hands of Fate for the fifth time. Oh well. I'm back, and I'm certainly glad I had that experience. I have been baking a lot over the past week or so, thanks primarily to an infusion of the TV show Good Eats before and after (and, I admit it, some during) my media vacation. I'm making some of the dishes from various episodes, and enjoying myself. I bought a bag of potatoes and made a simple potato gratin, mashed potatoes, and baked potatoes on various days. None were great, but they were all edible at least. I'm learning. Ooooh, I also made homemade lemon ice cream, and that was/is fabulous. I don't know why I'd buy ice cream from the store again. Gah, I can't write well tonight. I guess it is getting late; I'll end this here. So, after recovering from my illness, I had some trouble getting to sleep, and as a result I've felt tired for the past couple of days. Which means that I haven't gotten much done. Which I guess is further proof of Brennen's maxim that I quoted a few days ago, "You can't get away from the physical world." Another example: A couple of the comments made on this blog recently hurt me. As in, they made me feel a bit depressed for the past two days. Why? As much as food, water, and air, humans need community. Not necessarily a thrumming metropolis, but just as surely as an urbanite has her bars or gym, a geek will have his IRC channels and D&D group. We're wired for it. So, those comments represented a break in my community, albeit a temporary break. A subtle (or not-so-subtle) rejection. And that break hit my nerve-level need for community. It's all better now. But that's a good reminder. You can't get away from the physical world. Comments: I've rarely ever felt satisfied by my work, and I may be beginning to understand why. I've typically lived in the future. I was always dreaming of adventures and what might be. That manifested in my love of science fiction, naturally, and my general demeanor. I was always trying to figure things out, to get to where things were going. Which is a bad habit in conversations. I rarely listened deeply and fully to others. Over the past few years, I've been spending more time in the present. I've been focusing on that which occurs here and now, in the moment. I've been learning to concentrate on the words and actions of others, observing every nuance of body language and tone of voice. Not so I can "get to where things are going," but so I can fully understand them. People have responded with great enthusiasm to this change. So, I've broadened my focus from just the future, to also include the present. For the past few days, I've been widening that scope further to regard the past. What have I done today? What have I done this week? This is not so that I can tally up a score for myself, exactly. It does let me look realistically at my work. In the past, my work was never enough, because I was always looking at the future. Completed work wasn't in the future, so it didn't count on some level. Once it was done, it's like it never existed. So I was forever chasing after work that evaporated in my hands. Now that I'm including the past in my thinking, I'm much more content with myself. I see how much I really am accomplishing. I see that I really am doing all sorts of things that make me happy. This doesn't solve any problems, really. But it does make me better able to confront my world. Comments: So I've been sick the past couple of days. Well, the past two weeks, really, but sick enough to stay home from work for the past couple of days. Which has gotten me to thinking. I'm home, and I have all this spare time. Obviously, I can't be as productive as I would be were I healthy. But why not spend some of that time on my various and sundry projects? I could at the very least, say, blog more, or review server logs. I could even write. I don't do any of these; I surf the web. Why? Sure, I want to relax. But why not spend that "down time" doing something useful? If my body is resting, why can't I use my mind? I guess it's because the mind and body are linked (to quote Brennen, "You can't get away from the physical world."). An ill body makes for an ill mind, to coin a Franklin-esque aphorism that's probably more cute than true. So, the question becomes: could I spend that recharge time doing something useful? Watching anime I've been meaning to watch? This would require some discipline, to push myself to do that instead of watching another MST3K episode. But...why not? Comments: I spent Sunday afternoon at a large mall, so I could be more creative. I don't much like malls. Especially crowded ones, as this mall was. But after waking up one morning last week to find my bedsheet had a long rip down the center, which eventually became so wide the bedsheet was split in half, I decided to brave the crowds. Besides, I needed to recharge my batteries. Much as I want to get things done, I also recognize the need to recharge. How can one recharge? The Artist's Way At Work recommends taking a couple of hours every week to experience something creative. Alone. How was the mall creative? I observed people and culture. I studied little knicknacks. I spent quite a lot of time in an Asian furniture store, and ended up buying a Japanese tea set and a piece of Chinese cork art. I stopped in the LEGO store and stood, agape, at the new anime-themed mecha sets (complete with random kanji on the boxes). And I thought about what that meant for Otherspace. In other words, I consciously gave myself space to recharge my creative juices. And I do feel more creative. Comments: One of the goals of self-improvement is being able to do more things, or do all the things you're currently doing in less time. People often confuse those goals and, with the time saved, do more things. Which is not to say that one can't, for example, trim down one's life to so few projects that one can add another project or two and stay sane. There's a sweet spot, and unfortunately that sweet spot is different for different people (it also changes over time). This is something I'm trying to figure out. What is my "sweet spot?" How many projects can I comfortably keep up with, while also maintaining a social life and free time? Right now, I have seven projects. I'm trying to figure out how to cut that down to six. I may not be able to do that, but I also may be able to do enough on my existing projects that they take very little time, allowing me to add another project. Still, seven feels too big. Comments: Now that I have comments, I want to write something. So, inevitably, I'm tempted to write about writing comments. Heh. I added comments because I honestly want to hear from you all. I want us all to chat. Though I don't know how I'll be able to participate, because I'm exhausted. I've re-committed myself to doing a lot of work at work, so I've been busier in the last few days than I have in, well, the last few weeks (at least, that's what it feels like). Which is good, of course, all things considered. But this is the second night where I've come home and felt utterly unable to do anything. Indeed, last night I went back out to 7-11 (a local convenience store), bought a bag of Doritos and some premium ice cream, and ate them while watching an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000. That was Monday night. So, yeah, I could have been a lot more productive lately at home. But I sure haven't felt like it. So, I haven't been. Is this good? Or bad? Or something else? Comments: I've been reading a book titled Wisdom Tales From Around The World. I've heard this particular story before, but it always makes me think. So, I'd like to share it with you all (slightly changed): As two Zen monks walked along a muddy, rain-drenched road, they came upon a lovely woman attempting to cross a large mud puddle. The elder monk stopped beside the woman, lifted her in his arms, and carried her across the puddle. He set her gently down on the dry ridge of the road as the younger monk discreetly admired her charms. After bowing politely to the woman, the two monks continued down the muddy road. The younger monk was sullen and silent as they walked. They traveled over hills, down around valleys, through a town, and under forest trees. At last, after many hours had passed, the younger monk could stay silent no longer. He turned to his elder and exclaimed, "You are aware that we monks do not touch women! Why did you carry that girl?" The elder monk turned and smiled. He said, "My dear young brother, you have such heavy thoughts! I left the woman alongside the road hours ago. Why are you still carrying her?" Comments: Flexibility can turn into "openness" which can turn into inflexibility. Witness this quote from a roommate advertisement on CraigsList: Comments: One of the keys to self-improvement is to be able to recognize when your own personal little world is changing due to outside influences. We each have hobbies and markets that we're involved in, and over time they're impacted by technology and public opinion. We have to recognize these changes and act on them. Consider "Old Media"—TV, newspapers, radio, etc. Peter Chermin, president and COO of News Corporation, wrote a glowing editorial on the wonderful potential of new technology for his medium. His basic premise: Old Media isn't dead; new technology just offers more opportunities for growth. Well, yes, and no. Because the one thread running throughout Mr. Chermin's piece is the idea of consumers as generic consumers, of media as mass media. His contention appears to be that, if mass media can just take advantage of new technology, it can reach more of the same sorts of people it reaches now. But increasingly, people aren't interested in mass media. The people I know get news and entertainment from very specific sources. There are fewer and fewer "generic consumers" any more. My parents buy their food at a small market, watch one cable channel (BBC America, at that), and use personalized webmail through this very server (e.g., not Gmail, Hotmail, etc.). Mass media just don't reach people the way they used to. And that's always the danger. Even when you see change, and even when you change your attitude towards the change itself, you don't always change your life in response to the consequences. When you can completely change yourself as a response to change, then you're on the path to self-improvement. At least, that's what I think. I've now uploaded the pictures I took while vacationing with Brennen last weekend. And I've returned from an amazing weekend with Brennen. I'm bushwhacked, so expect an incoherent blog post today. The flights out there were uneventful, and I was easily picked up by Brennen at the airport. We then went back and celebrated his girlfriend's birthday by drinking wine and chatting about home schooling with a few of his friends, which was remarkably enjoyable. Awoke deliciously late on Saturday, then drove in to the city to walk around. There's this beautiful, all-brick pedestrian mall running down the center of town. It's studded with statues of native animals—bobcats, wolves, bears, etc.—and lined with bookstores, coffee shops, ice cream parlors, etc. We stopped in at an Irish pub for a while, only to soon find ourselves surrounded by young girls changing clothes. They soon stepped onto stage for a full-scale Irish dance performance, not unlike Riverdance. Amazing to watch these girls flit and stomp around the stage like...well, in a way unlike anything else, really. We then headed out to a local smoke-filled bar basement, where Tempa and the Tantrums were playing. We'd never heard of them before; turns out they're a fantastic Blues/Jazz/funk band. I bought one of their CDs from their very appreciative lead singer, who despite her petite body had the voice of someone twice her size. Got back home at midnight; wouldn't have wanted it any other way. On Sunday, woke up deliciously late again, and went out hiking with Brennen up the large hill behind his house. That took us several hours of leaping from rock to rock, brushing past claw-like brush, drinking plenty of water, and keeping our eyes peeled for rattlesnakes (never saw one). Near the top, we found a little wind-sheltered nook in a copse of trees, literally broke bread, munched on hummus-dipped pita and cheese, and talked about politics, human rights, business, and the world in general for about an hour. It was heaven. Spent Monday morning mostly chatting with Brennen's girlfriend, who is a wonderful young woman, and browsing Boulder some more before heading to the airport. The trip back turned out to be more of an ordeal; I had a fairly long layover in Minneapolis, then the flight to Dulles had to land in Pittsburgh because of a sick passenger. Didn't get back home until after 11:00, and didn't get home until after midnight. But I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. Why? Because I was with people, connecting with them face-to-face. There's nothing like it. Nothing beats this. I want to go back. Like, next month. Wish I could. I'm definitely planning to go back again within a year. So that was my weekend. How was yours? I'll be out of town this weekend, going to see my friend Brennen for a few days. I haven't seen him in eight years. We met online about ten years ago, in a chatroom on events.scifi.com. Our brainwaves synced up immediately, and soon we were finishing each others' sentences. Spooky, but it established this decade-old friendship. Perhaps the longest solid friendship I have. In any event, I'm certainly looking forward to it. Should be fun to really catch up. And there's just something about a face-to-face meeting that's...well, really important. It cements a relationship. And I need more cement. So to speak. I've been sick most of this week. It's gotten me to thinking about things, particularly the idea of relaxation. Forced relaxation will do that. For example, today I spent all day reading Fox Trot and Calvin & Hobbes collections. And boy was it nice to just while away a day, doing absolutely nothing of consequence. And then sit down and lose myself in writing. I'm working away at the script for "Leviathans," Otherspace's pitch to Cartoon Network. It was amazing, how some time spent utterly relaxing helped build me up for a creative endeavor that I could just dive into and drink deeply from. So, yes, relaxation is great. As long as that relaxation lets you do something. Too many folks have gotten so used to stopping that they never start again. Comments: I'm struck by how much we let ourselves be enslaved by our devices. Oh, I don't mean literally, and I'm not trying to be alarmist. But, well, how often do we get home from work and immediately gravitate to the computer or TV? Personally, I can't wait to get back online. It makes me feel connected to people and current events. Even though, of course, that's a thin, mediocre connection. Really, it's a way to keep busy. It's something to fill our time. When actually, if we thought about how we really want to spend our time—What do you want to be doing in ten years?—we probably wouldn't be spending an hour every night on the computer. Comments: I avoid writing a post that's just a link to another blog post—I feel, like Brennen, that one should contribute content in a blog, not just redirect the reader to other content—but David Seah writes about a lot of the things I've been thinking about lately in his recent post, Five Things On My Mind. He writes about his desire to spend more time connected to the physical world, and to do things instead of endlessly think and plan them. Years ago, when I was thinking of starting software companies and such, I wrote business plans. I never used them. I didn't write a business plan for Otherspace (well, I noodled around with one, but never wrote more than half of it), and I built that into a ten-person company of skilled aritsts. As David writes, a business plan or functional spec or any other sort of design document is useful only if it gives you one (or both!) of two things: a clear vision or a simple list of metrics for success. If you already have these, you don't need the plan. Comments: It's been a long, long week. Didn't realize it until Saturday, but I've been busy basically all day, every day from Thursday through Saturday. On Thursday, I met with one of Otherspace's artists, the character designer for our Cartoon Network pitch. She had some screenplay material that we went over, after I got lost and wandered around for an hour. On Friday, my parents came over and we watched The Magnificent Butcher, plus random videos from Google Video. On Saturday, I made a key lime pie, granola bars, and cinnamon blackberry muffins, attended a weekly Otherspace meeting, and went to Guy's Night Out (Die Hard, the MST3K episode Hobgoblins, and two episodes of Ghost Stories). Got home around 11:15. So I took today off. Off from my personal responsibilities as well as my more public ones. The only chore I did today was two loads of laundry. I filled the rest of my time by re-watching The Critic. And...it feels so good. I really needed some time to just relax and do nothing of any consequence. To recharge. To refill. This week, I've really realized how important it is for a person to have some "off" time. Some time to recharge. Most of the folks I know spend too much time goofing off and too little time feeding their dreams (as far as I can see, at least), so it's been very hard for me to recognize this need. But it's there. Comments: Okay. Based on some excellent advice from a reader of this blog—and the advice of Tom Peters—I've decided to pare down my list of projects again. As you may recall, I recently pared down my list of projects (see my February 17th entry) from about fifteen to seven. That list shifted around a bit as some of those projects shifted into maintenance mode and others were added, but as of yesterday, I still had seven significant ongoing duties. I'm cutting that down to four. And one of those four will be toned down. I feel really good about these changes. I didn't realize until last night just how creatively drained I am, and how much I'd benefit from plenty of time off from my various responsibilities. Comments: I am tired. I'm tired of being the adult. I'm tired of being the responsible one. I'm tired of being the one with the answers. I'm tired of being the one who looks beyond the surface. It's more of a burden than I realized. And I'm not complaining; I'm just saying that I'm tired and discouraged that I seem to be the only person I know who's "on top of things." Which means I need to feel my feelings, acknowledge them, let them play out, and get on with life. I'm sure I'll feel much better about this in a day or so. Comments: If you knew there was a 30% chance you'll die in your sleep tonight, what might you do differently today? Okay, why not do it? Comments: I'm going out on a date on Thursday. This is the first time I've ever gone out on a date. Really. I was homeschooled through high school, then commuted every day to college. I've had a few crushes, but nobody I've wanted to pursue. Meanwhile, over the past few months, I've been hearing the ticking of my biological clock. I'm almost thirty years old now. If I got married tomorrow, when my kids are in their teens I'd be in my fifties. Which is fine, but I don't want to push it too far. So I've been using eHarmony, looking for someone. And now there's a girl who I've been e-mailing and IMing, and we agreed to go out to Starbuck's on Thursday. It's an oddly frightening feeling. I feel like a fourteen-year-old with acne. Worse, I feel like I should have gotten over this when I was fourteen. I'm more than a little frustrated that I'm only now going through something that everyone else went through when they were half my age. And it's not like I should have dated a few girls just "for practice," but still. These jitters feel frustratingly juvenile. Nothing I can do about them, though. And they're minor; I feel mostly calm about it. I'll go, and we'll chat. She sounds like a great person; I'm sure I'll have a great time. But I'll still have to face this nervousness. Comments: So Seth Godin was kind enough to link to me from his blog. And my first thought was, "Shoot! My site's not ready! I wish I had time to clean it up beforehand." You never know when someone important—or a lot of important someones—will look at your work. Does this mean that it has to be ready for important glances at all times? I think so. Comments: I've now put back online two of my earliest writing projects. The Wand of Cabalis is the first thing I ever wrote, and it shows. I've uploaded it along with fresh commentary on its bad (and very few good) points. I wrote A Joining of Powers four years later, so I was marginally better, but it's still pretty poor. I'm putting these online as encouragements to other writers. Your early writing may stink to high heaven. That's okay. Everyone starts out like that. Just keep writing, and you'll get there. I don't mind exposing my faults, if others can learn from them. Comments: This weekend, a very special package arrived: a VHS tape of E.Y.E.S. of Mars. Those of you who watched anime movies on the Sci-Fi Channel back when they still showed anime movies may remember this one. It's an ecological fable about a psychic girl who gets caught up in the final apocalypse of Mars, and eventually sends her spirit to earth to found Atlantis and give Cro-Magnon man sentience. But the moral was that she (and everyone else) should have stayed on Mars and tried to save their own planet instead of "infesting" another world, even though Mars was at this point uninhabitable. Yeah. Doesn't make much sense. But I remember it vividly, as this is one of the movies I watched back when I had only a vague grasp that the Japanese had their own wacky animation industry. This was part of the dawn of my anime fandom. I remember it fondly. So, after much searching (the net may be vast, to quote Masamune Shirow, but just try finding information on this film besides a few random reviews), I finally found someone actually selling a VHS tape for real and bought it. (This is the second time I have tried to do this; the first time, I was informed after ordering it that the tape was out-of-order and couldn't be restocked.) It came on Saturday. You may be yawning and asking, "So what?" Well, not only was this part of my past, my apprecation for E.Y.E.S. of Mars helped establish my love of anime. I liked this film (didn't love it, but enjoyed it). How was my judgment? Pretty much spot on, it turns out. E.Y.E.S. has some great animation, a comprehensible and easy-to-follow plot, an honest-to-goodness New Agey environmental message, and one of the more shocking endings of any anime I've seen. It's not a good ending, but it is a surprise. It's enjoyable. The characters are pleasant to look at and they're animated smoothly. The plot chugs along from one plot point to the next, logically enough in the small details though as mentioned above rather silly when you stop to think about the implications. And it ends (pardon the spoiler, but you're never going to see this movie) with the death of every character in the movie in a fiery inferno. But the main character is a psychic, remember, so she uses her psychic abilities to resurrect herself and her comrades in a purely spiritual form and fly to Earth. After much passion is spent pointing out that they should save Mars. Despite living in a nearly collapsed city that explicitly can't survive another thirty years, that's just barely shielded from the rest of the completely barren, lifeless planet. Huh? But it is enjoyable. I can take silliness in the large when the ride is enjoyable (see Star Wars). And this was a fun ride. The credits rolled (to beautiful symphonic music written by the composer for Zeta Gundam), and I felt validated. My past sense did know quality when he saw it. I knew what I was doing when I got into this. Now to put some more beautiful animation into the world. Comments: Instead of writing more about self-improvement, as I usually do, I thought I'd spend some bytes on some things I've been watching this weekend. I spent all weekend home, some of that cruising Google Video (which, of course, is in Beta. Like Google Groups has been for the past five years). Anyvay, I came across some fun little videos. Tripod's Song is a perfect pop song about, um, love in the modern age. Matrix Dance features what looks like a bunch of stunt men showing off their stuff; they wouldn't look out-of-place in a Jackie Chan flick. And, amazingly enough, A Funny Mime. I've also been watching some Gundam X. Most Gundam shows are pretty heavy fare; stories of gritty battles and almost unwinnable wars. This is a lighter show, oddly enough helped by its post-apocalyptic storyline. It's set fifteen years after a massive bombardment of Earth, so mankind is now on the upswing. It's upbeat in a lot of ways, more of a rough-and-tumble adventure across a dangerous landscape than a typical Gundam war story. Refreshing and fun. Also been watching Shinsengumi, a live-action TV show (fifty episodes, an hour each) about a critical period in Japanese history about 150 years ago. It's a fascinating look into historical Japan and the forces that shaped it, and it appears to be accurate, to boot. What's amazing about the Shinsengumi is that they were formed as a response to the revolution occurring around them, despite the fact that the revolution had some fair points. And the Shinsengumi eventually imploded in a self-destructive cycle of ever-tightening rules and punishments. All within the course of, oh, ten years or so. Also watched (thanks, again, to Google Video) some clips of Hello! Morning, which is another story in and of itself. Years ago, a Japanese music producer held auditions for a female lead singer for one of his popular acts. It was narrowed down to six girls, and though one of them won, the producer was intrigued by the other five and offered them a break: They could record a single, and if they could sell 50,000 copies of it within five days, he'd give them a record contract. They sold out in four days, and he formed them together as the band "Morning Musume." When he auditioned for another girl, he got five thousand applications. The band then got their own weekly TV program, Hello! Morning, which is sort of in the style of The Mickey Mouse Club; the members sing and dance, but also perform in skits and pretend game shows. They're incredibly commercialized, too, and it's a bit weird to see thirteen-year-old girls put through incredibly grueling training to audition as the next Morning Musume girl. Our world is far stranger than any SF or fantasy world I've ever experienced. So, what are the "do's" and "don'ts" of etiquette for blog comment forums like this one? Comments: Today, I go all narcissistic and give you a list. Here are the podcasts that I currently listen to: There. Wasn't that informative? Comments: On Sunday, I had my parents over for the afternoon. We chatted a bit about various things; had a good time. I was re-amazed that I have such a good relationship with my parents. Not that they don't deserve it; they're great people. But I know so many people who don't get along with their parents. I'm blessed. We then went to the Leesburg Flower Show. Booths stretched up and down two streets of Leesburg, and there was greenery as far as my eyes could see. All the plants were in beautiful shape, and I had to resist shelling out some good cash just to buy...something, anything! And there was food. Man. Sausages, soft-serve, lemonade, funnel cake, cotton candy, soft pretzels. Enough to make you perpetually hungry, just from the smells. I'm sure some might make snarky comments about the inevitably of money-grubbing capitalism at all this. But I was surrounded by people who wanted to beautify their environment and support local businesses, as well as local artists and business people who were doing what they loved. It inspired me a bit to think about myself, and how I might spend more of my time doing the things I love. Worth thinking about, certainly. I'm naturally drawn to an all-or-nothing mindset about this sort of thing, and I wonder if that's common. That is, I tend to think that one must make a huge break with one's current life, quit one's job and max out the credit cards to start a little business carving jade figurines or what-have-you. There are probably less extreme paths, but I don't recall reading about them. Maybe humans are just wired to make big shows when they switch gears. We do so love to trumpet our own horns, at times. Imagine a website/blog that posts really good poetry, and pays good rates to poets for that poetry. And that writes about the poetic form. And that points people towards good poetry. And that sells collections of good poetry. And that sponsors poetry-writing contests. In other words, imagine a poetry portal, though a non-proprietary one. A website that gets people talking about poetry. Imagine RSS feeds of good poetry. Imagine getting poetry in your e-mail inbox every day. Imagine if a poet could actually receive some kind of useful reward for writing poetry. Imagine a digital poetry publisher. I imagine I'm missing a bunch of things. Such as...? Comments: So I spent Saturday with Mandy, in D.C. We met at the metro, then stopped off at the Holocaust Museum to pick up tickets for later in the day. We then poked our heads through the Natural History Museum and marvelled at the prehistoric animals. We spent a few minutes in the Museum of Fine Art before heading back for our appointed times at the Holocaust Museum. And that was almost too much to bear. A large amount of the exhibit is spent on the buildup of the Nazi party and repression of the Jews (and others; communists, Jehovah's Witnesses, homosexuals, gypsies). Mandy and I agreed that the worst moment was nearing the section on the prison camp, when you can walk through one of the boxcars. It smelled like death. Then, of course, you get to the camps themselves, and the gas chambers, and the ovens. A thousand bodies a day burned in each oven. After that, we walked over to the World War II memorial, which we agreed felt very appropriate. It's on a huge scale, but basically just a large marble oval with a fountain in the middle. Somehow, it feels right. From there, we visited the Lincoln Memorial, and chatted about our feelings on the Holocaust Museum. It was a lot to take in. We headed back to the metro, and after getting on the wrong train and having to double back, I finally made it out, where I had to go to a party at a friend's house. I was not exactly looking forward to being at a party after experiencing the Holocaust Museum, but I went, and surprisingly enough I had a really fun time. Thoroughly enjoyed myself. I was able to integrate all those experirences without being overwhelmed. I credit my recent lack of projects. I no longer have so many things to do that I'm thinking about them, or trying to get back to them all the time. I can take a day off, and not worry about its impact on my projects. This strikes me as a good thing. I've been listening to audio recordings of Open Tech 2005 (previously known as NotCon). As seems to often be true, about half the presentations are uninteresting, dully presented, or so poorly recorded as to be unintelligible. The other half are fascinating. In particular, I listened to a talk given by a distinguished-sounding gentlemen, explaining that his view of computing is different from probably everyone else's in the room, and how he's been using computers for decades, and how computer are operating on completely the wrong metaphor for 90% of us (that they're primarily representing secretarial functions). I thought to myself, "This guy is great. I'll have to check up on him and see who he is." Then he explained that he was finally now codifying a lot of his ideas, and here it was, the latest iteration of Xanadu. It was Ted Nelson. For those unfamiliar, Ted Nelson essentially invented the notion of "hypertext," of documents with embedded links that take you to other documents. But his view goes much beyond that (indeed, he sees the world-wide web as a pale shadow of his idea, since in his view the links should never die). He assembled his ideas into a system concept he called "Xanadu," but which has never come anything close to a real-world system. Until now. He's released a very early alpha version of ZigZag, a cross-platform (Windows/Mac/Linux) piece of software that lets you enter chunks of data and create relationships, then manipulate that data in what sounds like amazingly useful and powerful ways. It's a completely different way of looking at computing. I wonder if it has any legs. Amazing to think of a guy, working for decades to achieve a specific vision. Comments: Been watching a lot of anime recently, and it's been instructive in its own way about the state of the anime industry and how folks in the anime industry have changed lately. A good example is The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi, the story of an extremely odd, extremely energetic high school girl who starts her own club. The entire first episode consists of the terrible video project that they put together as a project; there are tons of continuity errors, bad camera work, and incomprehensible plotting and dialogue. Everything's bad. But the amount of work that's put in to making it look bad is amazing. In one shot, the "camera" is zoomed in very close on a character, so that as she talks she's constantly shifting in and out of focus. But this is all animated, so they had to explicitly shift the focus in and out on that shot. What is done automatically in real life had to be painstakingly created in animation to make it look like a mistake. Then there's Zegapain, a "high school boy is chosen to pilot giant robot" series. It begins with him seeing visions of a woman (who you later discover is still "synching" with this dimension of reality). Much of the episode is spent with him just fascinated by this woman and following her around. The last part of the episode involves him teleported into a giant robot and piloting it, and here's where things get interesting: as the woman explains it, she tries to use an anime cliche ("Just pretend this is a game.") And he doesn't fall for it; he immediately jerks his head at oncoming enemies and says, "The way things are, it's a little hard for me to believe that." She smirks and murmurs to herself, "He's faster" (than the previous pilot, presumably). But he goes ahead and fights them. The series is generic conceptually, but almost cannot step into typical anime cliches. And there's High School Girls, a slice-of-life comedy/drama about a group of girls just entering high school, and their various dreams and adventures. It's clearly aimed at guys; there are lots of unnecessary panty shots (not that panty shots are usually necessary). So, yeah, it has a sexy element to it. But it manages to combine that with a charming slice-of-life aspect and downright well-written comedy that transcends the panty flashes. What does this have to do with the anime industry? Anime wasn't like this fifteen years ago. When the anime industry was flush with money, folks either crafted beautiful pieces of animation, or pumped out junk. Now, since anime is a smaller world, the junk is much more readily apparent. You can't get away with junk as easily. Even the junk has redeeming qualities now. It's like any form of art, really: imposition of non-arbitrary restrictions usually results in better art. Stayed up until 12:30 last night, then tried to get up at 7:15. I clearly need to make a few adjustments to my "workload." Which probably makes me sound like I'm stuffing my evenings with busywork. Here's the thing: When I get home, I have four broad ways to fill my time: maintenance work like checking my truck's oil or dusting the house, creative work that feeds my desire to build things (like writing and drawing and programming), all the random stuff that comes up in our daily lives (like calling back my aunt or writing a thank-you note), and free time to do whatever I want (like watch anime or read). Problem is, I could spend all evening on maintenance work, creative work, and/or random stuff. I could always write more, and I could always keep the house more clean. Not that I do fill my time like that; I just know I can, and there's always a higher standard of living one could be living in. Thus the balancing act. I need to spend some time relaxing. But if I spend all night every night relaxing, the house gets covered with dust (and I have a slight dust allergy), e-mail doesn't get answered, etc. etc. etc. That's not how I want to live my life. I've tried to do my relaxation first thing in the evenings, but that doesn't work; I end up getting into a groove of watching a show or reading a book, and keep at it until bedtime. Perhaps I need to be more firm with myself on that, but then, the whole point of this is to make me more relaxed, not more tense. If I do my relaxation later in the evening and do maintenance work, creative work, and random stuff as soon as I get home, I end up essentially adding an hour or two to my workday, straight through. I can get halfway through that extra hour and be exhausted, much less push all the way through. Hmmm. Maybe I should add in some relaxtion right when I get home, but not too much. Half an hour or an hour or something. I can try to put my "home work" in the middle of my evening, cushioned between two periods of relaxation. I am determined to get a stable system going here. Not that it will work for ever and everything, but I want something that will work most of the time. That will help me to keep up with all the demands of life, without pushing me to exhaustion. To keep me "resilient and alive from all sides," to quote a Tai Chi Master I watched recently. I had a great day at work today, and I'm feeling good this evening. I have all the energy I need to get stuff done. Which means I need to slow down and not burn through all this energy and go into another boom-and-bust cycle, probably. I'll try to do some relaxing tonight, and see how that goes. Comments: I went out on Friday night to Blues Alley, where I and a date watched Jack Jones perform. Boy, was I nervous. Felt ill all day. Freaked out at the idea of taking a date in to Washington, D.C. and into an alley where we'd be in a blues club. Very, very much outside of my regular comfort zone. And I had a wonderful time. Jack was great, my date was great, and I just had a great time eating chocolate cake, sipping from a tall glass of iced tea, listening to an accomplished performer swing his way through "Not While I'm Around" and, of all things, "For Once In My Life." All I had to do was push through to the actual event, and I had a grand time. Even walking outside to the pouring rain was fun, as we joked and laughed our way to a bus stop, and from there to the Metro station. And then, I went home, to a dry bed. Nice. Comments: Following on to some comments I've made here recently about resting and relaxing and not getting too much of it in, here's the beef I have with relaxation: I don't mind relaxing. Especially taking out an hour or so to do something fun (read a book, watch a TV show, putter around in the garden; whatever). But I think that "boom and bust cycles" usually signal that something is wrong. If I have to spend a full 48-hour period totally zoning out, that means something is out of whack. It means I pushed myself too hard in the previous, say, week. So the question becomes, how do I resolve this? Seems like I need to take more time to relax throughout my week. Not sure how I can do that; I'm already taking a good twenty-minute walk at lunch at work, and taking a tea break in mid-afternoon, and spending an hour or two every evening watching anime or otherwise not producing. Anyone have any suggestions? How do you relax? Comments: The more I think about it, the more I realize that the best possible way to enjoy a TV show is to have it all at once on silvery discs, instead of doled out a week or two at a time over the course of three to five years (if you're lucky). Comments: Not sure if any Otherspace employees read this blog, but if so, this entry won't be a surprise to them, at least. On Saturday, I announced that I'm taking a one-month vacation from Otherspace. I'll complete whatever work that really requires me and nobody else (like submitting tax paperwork), but other than that I'm taking a break. Why? I'm not having fun any more. I'm tired. The work feels like a big slog that I have to push through. I'm increasingly realizing that I'll have to devote the larger part of the next ten years of my life to establishing this company (to the point that it's making a profit), and I'm not sure I want to do that now. And there are all the various pressures and frustrations of managing a handful of employees. Which is not a slam against them; they're great people. The one thing I still enjoy about Otherspace is meeting and chatting with them. I have a great time meeting with them, but it's the same fun I'd get if we all got together and munched on nachos while watching a movie. As I write this, I realize that I may be sounding ungrateful. I've made a studio where my ideas are given form and come to life. This is cool, but it's not enough. Not enough payback for all the pushing that I have to do. At least, not in Otherspace's current form. Which, in turn, is not to say that I'm planning to give up on Otherspace. But I am tired, and I need to get some distance and figure out just what I need to fix to make this satisfying for me again. Because I will not toil through life, unhappy, in thrall to some distant shadow of contentment. And I hope you never do. Comments: I just noticed something amusing. I'm not quite sure what lesson to take from it. I was just finished gathering a few books to buy in a local bookstore. I headed to the counter, where one of the two employees was helping another customer find a book, while the other was shelving. The first employee said, "I'm still helping this gentleman," and I waved and said, "No problem." I pulled out my Moleskine pocket notebook to scribble down a few thoughts and generally make use of the time. Zip! The other employee was behind the counter within seconds, graciously asking me how I'd like to pay, explaining their new (free!) discount card, and just generally giving me excellent customer service. This is the second time this has happened to me. The first time, I was in a restaurant, and after pulling out my Moleskine and noting a few observations about the day, I suddenly received fantastic service from practically everyone there. And it hit me: they think I'm a professional critic. In the restaurant I must have looked like a restaurant critic, so suddenly I got great service. The bookstore must have thought that, because I was pulling out a little black book and preparing to make notes while waiting at the counter, that I was checking up on them. Like I said, I'm not quite sure what to learn from this. Except that, when I'm getting bad service, try to pull out my Moleskine and see if the service improves.... Comments: My jaw's been sore for the past few days, still healing from my dental appointment last week. At least it seems to be hurting less. But a painful jaw should get you out of anything. You should be able to say only, "My jaw hurts," and boom! Time off from work, discounts at Starbuck's, and an empty lane in front of you on the road. In any event, I feel like I'm slipping away from my goals. I've spent time doing things that are good, but that don't support my goals. Things like cleaning, checking physical mail, talking to friends, etc. And a lot of it has been tiring me out. On the other hand, I have been doing good things instead of pointless things (surfing the web, etc.). And it's not that I don't want to relax or spend time "off;" I've just been...I don't know. Feeling the need to get this stuff done, I guess. Maybe I'm just backsliding into busy-work without relaxation. Or maybe my jaw's just making me grumpy. Had a bit of a scare today: I received a phone call mid-morning from my tenant, informing me that her car was towed this morning. Ugh; I felt terrible for her, and I felt really bad myself about having to deal with this. I zipped home as quickly as I could to get the name of the towing place, but meanwhile her boyfriend was able to get the car. And I've wanted to talk to her about it, but she works nights, so she probably won't get in until the wee hours. ...My jaw hurts. Comments: Had a fun Memorial Day with my parents. All we did was go to the grocery store then stayed home and chatted, but that was great. It's a real blessing to have parents with which that's fun. Came home and tried a bit of meditation. I recently read an excellent article about meditation, which re-encouraged me to try it. So I spent five minutes sitting on the floor, consciously quieting my mind. It was a very powerful experience. Afterwards, I felt much more alive and focused on the moment. Then, after practicing a bit of Tai Chi, I watched some more Gundam Wing. It's a much better show than I'd remembered, to be honest. It has a surprising amount of real, tense drama. The characters...well, they're not especially complex, but then this is fiction. The characters are very well-balanced; they play off each other in fascinating ways. I'm trying to think of an example, but nothing really comes to mind. And I need sleep anyway, and I'm not going to sacrifice any more sleep than I have already. I respect my body too much for that. And so, I go to bed. Well, that was an exciting way to end the day. First, yesterday: My new tenant moved in. Finally! I found a tenant, and a normal person at that. She had a couple of trips on Saturday, hauling the amazing amount of stuff that's always needed during a move. That went fine. I then had a wonderful evening with Mandy, as usual, watching Princess Mononoke and My Neighbor Totoro. Yes, anime. But really good anime. And she enjoyed them. So there. And I just got home from a fun day: Spent most of the day role-playing at Nick's house, then just chatted with him and his parents for most of the evening. As I left, I saw I had a voicemail from my new tenant, who informed me she'd kinda sorta accidentally locked the main door handle in addition to the dead bolt, and locked herself out of the house. I always use the deadbolt, never the handle. So I returned her call and said smoothly that I'd be home in about an hour. Fortunately, she was at a friend's house, so I didn't have to worry about her sitting on my doorstep for an hour. I then looked down at my keyring: Since I never use the handle lock, I don't keep the key for it on my keyring. It was sitting in my desk at home. Locked inside. That worried me for a few minutes, but as I started driving, I thought, No, I'm not going to spend the next hour fretting over this when there's nothing I can do about it until I get home anyway. I let myself explore occasional possible courses of action, but beyond that I just drove and listened to Gundam SEED music. I got home, and sure enough, I couldn't get in. OK. I tried slamming my body against the door; no luck. So I sighed, shifted my weight into one leg, summoned all my Tai Chi practice, and lashed out with the other leg at the door. Bang! The door slammed open. Fortunately, there's a large gap between the door and the doorjamb at that point (it's the deadbolt that fits snugly), and when I hit it with that much force, it just snapped open. Didn't even do any damage to the door. So, whew! I'm home, and safe, and boy am I glad I'm learning Tai Chi. Well, that's that. I just sold my PowerMac G5. I had put an ad on CraigsList last week, and somebody came by today to buy it. A very nice young woman, a local web designer in fact, who was thrilled to get such a nice machine at this price (honestly, I couldn't have sold it for more anywhere, as far as I can see). Why would I sell a computer? Well, honestly, I don't need it. I bought it to help with video editing and general image manipulation at Otherspace, but now that I've pulled back from Otherspace, I don't do that any more. Heck, even before that, others were doing all the video editing and image manipulation. My G5 was just a place to download anime. And I've been seeking to simplify my life more and more lately. Fewer projects, fewer possessions. I'm even thinking about selling my camcorder, since I haven't used it in years. Why? I want more focus. I want fewer things distracting me. I encounter enough roadblocks to achieving my dreams; why live with stuff that will pull me away from them? Stuff that takes up time to sort through, manage, and generally live with. So, no. I'll have no more of it. I'll own what I need, and that will be that. ...Anyone willing to take any bets on how long this'll last? Decided to stay home from work today, and I'm glad I did; I didn't even feel like doing anything at home, much less work. So I lazed around the house, watching MST3K and Radar Men From The Moon. I'm increasingly attracted to the old serial format, of a larger story told in small, exciting pieces. It required a certain focus on movement; you couldn't have long pointer scenes or drawn-out exchanges of existentialist dialogue. Thugs with guns would burst through the door before too long. Interesting that the serial format has revived in modern SF. What was Babylon 5 but a revival of the serial format, just in a much longer form? Now all recent SF shows are expected to have a big overarching plot. But even the original release format strikes me as a brilliant concept. I mean, okay, the movie theaters today are complaining that they're having trouble making money. Okay: Let's say you go to the movies, and when you get into the theater ten minutes early, instead of watching previews for summer movies that you know you're not going to see, you're dropped into a roller coaster plot of aliens taking over the world. The heroes are tossed into a really tough spot, things are looking hopeless—we cut to black! And a title card comes up: "To see what happens next, come back to this theater next week." And the trailers begin. Imagine: A little story that you find at least entertaining, and that you can only find out more about by watching another movie. How can this not bring in people? Sure, you wouldn't draw a lot of people to the movies alone...but there are few people who don't want to go to the movies. Give them that incentive. "You know, I wasn't sure if I wanted to see this flick, but...I could catch the next bit of that show...." And it'd be sure to create less anger than the current twenty minutes of ads before every movie. Comments: Got three teeth drilled today, so I'm having a tough time concentrating enough to write anything coherent. Been watching the most recent MST3K collection. The movies are...bad. Which goes without saying, you'd thionk, except that MST3K always had two kinds of movies: cheesy movies and bad movies. The cheesy ones are entertaining in their own weird way; they plot may never go anywhere, but there'd be a plot. The bad ones are just difficult to watch, because nothing happens, and it's a whole lot of nothing. Cheesy films include, say, Manos: The Hands of Fate (though that's really bad, at least the plot keeps leaping around from the confused couple to Torgo to the Master to the silk-clad "wives" to the kissin' couple to the clueless cops...). One bad film in this lot is Wild Rebels, a 60's biker film in which, let's see, a guy auctions off his racing gear, is approached by two bikers, and agrees to help them hold up a bank. By that point we're a full thirty minutes into the film. The bikers just take forever to get to their point, and the protagonist just stands there waiting. Or take The Sinister Urge. This was my first Ed Wood movie, and boy is it an eye-opener (though I'm sure it'd be more of an eye-opener if I'd seen it uncut). He films everything. If a guy is told to leave the room, we watch him walk over to the door, open it, leave, and shut the door behind him. Augh. It was fascinating to watch a principle of mine demonstrated very clearly: It's the director that makes the actor's performance (mostly). There's a brief scene involving an actor who was in an other MST3K film. In the other film, he did fine. In this, he was histrionic and painful to watch. The same is true of so many actors and films; see what George Lucas was able to do with Mark Hamill in Star Wars. (Not that Mark's a bad actor.) ...Am I making any sense? I need more Advil. Comments: And I did it. I managed to finish everything I wanted to last night, without feeling exhausted. It was tiring, though; I can't do that every single night. Need at least a bit of total relaxation. In a fit of brain activity while mourning the death of my Syllable laptop, I did manage to hook up another computer and install the latest version of Syllable on that. So, huzzah! I finally have a system with which I can support the open-source project that I've been affiliated with for, oh, half a decade or so, it seems. 'Twas a good feeling as I crawled into bed. I woke up this morning with the calm relaxed feeling one only gets from a full night's sleep. I rolled over and fumbled for my phone to check the time (and there's a phrase that only makes sense today...imagine someone from thirty years ago reading the sentence "I rolled over in bed and switched on my phone to check the time"), and saw that it was...9:15 a.m. Apparently, in setting up the new Syllable computer last night, I kicked out the power cord for my laptop, so my alarm didn't go off. I shot off a quick apologetic e-mail to my boss and threw on some clothes. As I shrugged into my shirt, my phone rang—it was a friend I'd called the night before, and hadn't talked to in months. She wanted to fill me in on the latest going on in her life. This was a very bad time for that, though I really wanted to know. So I talked for a few minutes before begging off, then ran into work. By the time I got there, I had about an hour before I had to leave for a dentist's appointment. Oh, great fun, putting two permanent plasticine caps on two teeth he'd drilled a few weeks ago. I elected to wait on the remaining work (three more fillings on the other side of my mouth), and scheduled another appointment for tomorrow to do that. Got back to work to discover that a) a local developer can't do a build, b) the customer was confused because the build process is different (despite my explanations that the build process has changed), and c) I had a meeting tomorrow at the same time I'd scheduled the dentist appointment. So, back out to the car, where I grabbed the appointment card, phoned the dentist, and changed to a Thursday appointment. Deep breath, back to the office, where I e-mailed the customer to explain the changes in the build process. At which point another CM person IMed me with some weird problems she was having in the lab. And I had a meeting in five minutes to present some training materials. So. Put off the CM rep, print out the training materials, attend the meeting, then help the CM rep. Return to my office to find that the customer's builds are blowing up spectacularly. Another deep breath, call the customer, figure out what's going on, and resolve that problem. Only thing remaining at this point was the local developer's problem, which we worked on until 5:30 p.m. when we decided to give up and try again tomorrow morning. Then off to my Mom's to see her (my Dad is down in Mississippi, helping to rebuild the house of a Katrina victim), had a great time eating dinner and watching the MST3K version of Planet of the Prehistoric Women, and returned home about five minutes ago. That was my day. How about yours? Comments: Your days lately sound more balanced with work and rest. It seems you are more content and definitely more rested. Is that accurate - in fact? It's a perfect day. Weather-wise, at least. About seventy degrees, sunny, with just enough clouds to provide gilding for the clear blue sky. You could walk or run and not feel the least bit like sweating, or you could stand in the shade in a t-shirt and feel comfortable. What's better than that? Well, obviously, a few things: Deep love. Honor. Respect. Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Mmmm. (You know you can make your own?) Where is this going, you may ask? Not sure. Let's see where today takes me: Woke up with the alarm and managed to crawl out of bed quickly enough that I got to work half an hour early. That was a nice bonus, since I had a two-hour meeting starting at 9:00. A meeting in which the chair recited a list of requirements for an hour and a half. Not exciting, but useful; we were able to clarify a number of things. Then back to my desk for some last-minute work before lunch, during which I snuck out to my truck to watch an episode of Gundam Wing on my laptop. (Why? A friend wants to see it, but wants me to re-watch it before I loan it to him.) It's been quite a few years since I watched Wing, which worried me a bit. See, Gundam Wing was one of my early anime loves. Oh, I'd seen a fair bit of anime at that point, but that was a series I completely fell in love with, after watching enough episodes to no longer be confused (that is, about twenty). It it had some depth, but it was also able to be light-hearted and fun. It was exciting. It was classic kid's Saturday morning adventure, but with suicidal pilots and ridiculously colored giant robots. It was also my first Gundam series, a franchise I've since gobbled up with the joy of a starving African given a free trip to Outback Steakhouse. So, I worried, would I still enjoy this series after a much broader exposure to anime? Would my experience with the rest of Gundam hurt my love of this series, or would I still be able to love it? Yes! Oh man is it fun. I can see the cheesiness more clearly now, and the voice acting grates on my ears now that I've heard so much better. I'm not quite the die-hard fan I once was; my appreciate is more mature. But I still love it on a deep, fundamental level. It's such great fun. So, back to work, where I finished up some training materials and took care of other business before quitting time. I took a shrewd shortcut that ended up adding five minutes to my driving time, and stopped by the grocery store to stock up on exotic things like onions and butter. Then home. And here, at home, I began a serious night of more work. Because i need to clear the decks of a bunch of things that have been bothering me—mostly phone calls that I need to make—and I'm not going to put them off any more. So I tossed ingredients into the bread machine and got that going, ate some dinner (microwaved homemade soup...not great, but certainly a good meal), hard-cooked some eggs, and just finished making a batch of chocolate chip cookies for the coming week. So we'll see if I can keep this up all evening, or if I crash and burn. I have two hours to make these phone calls and do some editing of Giant Armors before bedtime. Can I do it? Or will I burn out? Bring it on. Had a great date with Mandy on Friday, where we started out with dinner at a sushi restaurant. I've had sushi only twice before in my life, and both times myself and those with me were novices. Mandy knows what she's talking about, so I was able to thoroughly enjoy every delicious bite. There's something about the way it all comes together that just makes for an amazing morsel of scrumptious deliciousness in your mouth. Am I being too technical? We then went back to her (lovely, homey) apartment to watch Master and Commander. What a film. It's burned into my memory. One of the interesting aspects to the film is how it treats nineteenth century sailing so plainly. It doesn't particularly try to make the ship look majestic or weird or unusual. It's just a ship. If films were being made back then, this is how they'd treat a ship. On Saturday, I lazed around the place, baked a cake, then hauled my butt over to Reston Town Center for their annual Fine Arts Festival, in which several hundred local (and not-so-local) artists put up their wares for sale. Of course, it had its share of artists who felt they could cut out three geometric shapes, glue them to a canvas, and sell it for $500. But the great majority of artists there were really, really good. So good, in fact, that I broke down and bought a painting by Michael Kopald. It looks a bit like this, which is another one of his works: Yeah, I'm happy with it. Then, today, I went out and saw Over The Hedge, the latest Dreamworks film. And if CGI continues to be this good, I'll welcome it. Judging from the previews, it won't be. But still, OTH was thoroughly entertaining and genuinely funny at times. A cute commentary on modern suburban living, too, without being nasty or overbearing about it. Its message wasn't "Suburban Living Is EVIL," it was that some people go overboard with their ideals of suburbia. Then home to make a pot of pork-and-potato soup. Turned out well, though I added unnecessary water to the chicken stock, making the soup...well...watery, and the flavors don't quite come together to make a real statement in your mouth. It's just flavorful, tasty soup. Which, on reflection, is a blessing in and of itself. I've felt like such a couch potato for doing nothing of real "consequence" this weekend, but really, how petty of me. I'm alive, I live in a lovely little townhouse, I get to do and make stuff that I enjoy doing and making, and heck, I'm alive on a beautiful, clear day. Isn't that enough? Comments: Let's see. What have I done lately? It's been a tough week at work. I finished up a major delivery, which was the first time I've had to do this particular process. I felt like I didn't know what I was doing, but I amazed myself by actually doing it, and with no outside help whatsoever. So it ended up being a confidence-booster, but an exhausting one. Spent Wednesday night with my parents, and I was tired enough that I stayed the evening there, re-watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It's still my least favorite Harry Potter movie. Not that it's bad; it just doesn't hold together very well for me. It feels like a collection of scenes, not a flowing, driving story. I enjoyed it more the second time around, though. Impeccable timing. Tonight, I had more energy. I got groceries, mowed my front lawn, did a load of laundry, burned a DVD of Densha Otoko, posted ads on CraigsList for a renter and someone to buy my desktop computer, watched Mortal Kombst: Annihilation (wonderfully awful), cleaned out old paperwork that had been collecting dust in my filing cabinets, watched an episode of The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi (indescribably fantastic anime), and talked to Saalon for a good hour. So, yeah, a fairly productive evening. Amazing what you can do if you just set your mind to it. I just hope I'm not pushing myself too hard, but I sure don't feel overstressed. Heck, I feel energized. Comments: All sorts of ideas and things are swirling around in my head to write about, but all of them require some time to do full justice to, and I just don't have the time to write them out in that sort of detail. Which is a good thing, really; it means I'm doing a lot. For once, this is due mostly to circumstances beyond my control. I worked late today finishing up a lot of things (and really finishing them up; boy, that felt nice), then going to Writer's Group for the first time in months to provide feedback on a few stories and get feedback on the rough draft of Giant Armors. So I got home about an hour ago, only to realize that I had ice cream in the fridge, ready to be made. So I had to toss that in the ice cream maker for half an hour. Meantime, what to do? I took a shower. That consumed ten minutes. So I emptied the dishwasher and sorted through my mail. And voila, the ice cream was done. After that was done, for some reason I still felt like taking care of little things, so I dusted my bedroom (haven't done that in months). So, I feel good. I'm keeping up with those little things. Of course, now to keep up with the bigger things. Comments: Honeysuckle lies heavy Comments: Last night, after a wonderful date with Mandy (I cooked up some chicken stir-fry and we delighted to Spirited Away), I turned off my morning alarm. This morning, I woke up when I wanted to, and the day stretched out before me like a meadow of flowers, ready to be explored and enjoyed. Been quite a while since I did this. Feels real good. And I need it so I can be productive later. I think humans can't produce without down-time. Comments: I just wrote the 19,495th word of the rough draft of my young adult novel. It was the final word of the draft. Praise be to God for giving me the strength to finish it. May he give me the strength to continue through the rewriting and polishing that comes next. Here's the last paragraph. Obviously, I might completely rewrite it before I'm done polishing the novel, but I like it. Comments: This week is shaping up to be a bruiser at work. Lots of work to do, all of a sudden. I arrive home and, while I can take care of a few things—making dinner, checking e-mail—my more creative pursuits just aren't getting done. So nothing to talk about there. I did collapse on the couch and veg out to Once Upon a Time in Mexico, which is about as thoroughly entertaining a flick as it is possible to be. Especially so if you've seen the two earlier movies in the trilogy. Everyone involved is just so much fun to watch, which is dissapointingly rare in modern film. The DVD for the film includes another "Ten Minute Film School" documentary by the director (Robert Rodriguez), and a new segment called "Ten Minute Cooking School," in which he shows you how to make a pulled-pork dish that's featured in the film. In the short, Rodriguez proposes a neat idea: Learn a few dishes that you really enjoy, and print up a little menu of them. Put it on your kitchen table, so that when guests come by, they can request any one of your specialties. I thought that was a really neat idea, so I typed up a concept, and realized that I've only really mastered a few dishes. So I'm now determined to use my cooking time to broaden my range of recipes. In particular, I plan to make some really good soups over the next few weeks. Exciting, huh? Sorry, it's late, and I really should be in bed, and I still have writing to do. So, off I go. Comments: When you spend all day either working or entertaining yourself, you never have to spend time just quietly sitting still with yourself. But it is in those moments of quiet stillness—when you can actually hear planes overhead—when you make your most profound realizations about yourself. You begin to see glimmers of your ideal future. You ask yourself why you're still here, when you've always wanted to be there but haven't done anything about it. For many, that voice is scary. So they drown it out with Kevin Spacey and Halo. (Myself very much included. Far too often.) Comments: And it's a Monday. Mondays are usually good/bad for me; I usually have a good charge of new energy at work, but there's usually so much to do that I burn out quickly. Mondays are usually pretty productive in the evenings, but it sets me up for a tiring Tuesday. Tonight, I got very little done. Instead, I watched The Usual Suspects, which the IT Guy at work (the one I'm turning into an anime fan by judicious applications of good anime) loaned me. The movie impressed me; good acting, great plotting. The story did tend to jump from one plot point to the next a bit too jarringly for my tastes; I felt like I was being pulled over railroad ties from one plot point to the next. But that's really my only complaint. And man, Kevin Spacey does such an excellent job. He has that great actor's ability to squeeze into a role and inhabit it as though he's been practicing every line since he was eight years old. But, like all great actors, he takes on roles that work for him; I doubt you'd see him try on a Jim Carey role. So he chooses his roles like a good salesman chooses a suit: Carefully, with attention to details. Everyone else was good, too, of course (particularly Gabriel Byrne), but Kevin Spacey just outshone them all. I wonder if they found that frustrating at all. Shades of Salieri, perhaps. Anyway, I'm chattering on when I should be getting to sleep. Probably because, despite writing regularly on my novel for the past week, I'm barely two hundred words forward. I'm in the denoument, and I keep explaining details and describing character reactions as though I were still halfway through the book. The big climax has already happened; my readers want the mysteries explained and the book to end, not to inhabit every second of the hero's flight home. We don't spend much time on Luke flying away from the Death Star. So, my frustrated Muse is using this blog as another outlet. Well, fair enough, but I have to wake up for work soon. So, enough! Time for a bit of reading (James Scott Bell's Plot & Structure; excellent), and sleep. A Weekend Away I'm back from a fabulous weekend spent with Saalon, catching up on stuff. We haven't physically seen each other in almost a year, and it was great to spend some face-to-face time. It's amazing, how powerful face-to-face communication is. We watched...quite a lot of anime, actually. A lot of it was stuff we've wanted to watch together for a while: Char's Counterattack, G-Saviour, and the first two Zeta Gundam movies. So much more fun to watch those sorts of things with others. And, of course, we talked: About werewolf movies, about comic books, about Gundam. He loaned me five volumes of a fantastic superhero comic book series called Invincible, which I'm now going to have to buy. It's difficult to explain how good this series is without giving away massive spoilers. The plot is fairly generic: the son of a superhero gains his powers. But it's got such solid writing, it's incredibly entertaining and does really fun things with its premise. So, I'm back home, and feeling...a little lonely. It's so quiet at home. And I like quiet, but I just.... ...maybe I need a cat. Comments: Don't know why, but I've really felt like updating this blog a lot lately. It feels...comfortable. As you may have noticed, I've been reading quite a lot lately. Finished The 80/20 Principle, All Marketers Are Liars, and Communicating at Work. All of which have got me thinking: What's my story? (hmm, shades of All Marketers Are Liars.) Who am I? How do I want to present myself? The obvious answer is "Be yourself," but to quote Walt Whitman, I contain multitudes. What aspects of msyelf do I most want to make public? What do I most want to get across to people? Since I want to make the world a better place, what can I do to make that happen? I'm realizing that I spend most of my time on things that don't feed my long-term goals, and that I don't clear out time for things that I do find important. Why do I spend hours making and checking backups when I could be writing? It's the classic 80/20 principle: I spend 80% of my time on things that deliver 20% life value. What would happen if, every day, I concentrated on doing things that fed my desire to help people? What if I taught people—in some way—before I open my mail or check Anime News Network? (And I'm not saying I should work, work, work every minute of every day. I'm saying I should re-prioritize the Important stuff over the nagging stuff. I can still relax, and I can still do the nagging stuff, but I'll be absolutely sure to do the Important stuff.) Annoyingly, I have no idea how long this will be available for, but High Moon Studios put together a short, parody-style interview video about their experiences with Scrum (an Agile Programming methodology). Very well done. Meanwhile, I'm feeling better. Which is a bit surprising, considering that I got about four hours of sleep last night. My jaw ached and I just didn't want to go to bed, so I read more of Seth Godin's All Marketers Are Lairs and played around with this website a bit. I've always tried to make this website clean, straightforward, and easy-to-use. The problem is, that doesn't describe me, and increasingly I think I should make this website more like me. So I'm playing around with a library-ish feel for this site. After all, I am a quiet, introspective, library-ish kind of guy. What do you all think of the new layout? Comments: Today, as I wait for painkillers to take effect after some dental work, I quote a poem written by my Dad: Comments: As promised, here are photos of my garden, as cleaned up by my Dad and me. It's been a long, long, long, long, long, looooong Day's Night. Well, long weekend, really. Saw United 93 Friday night. 'Twas intense and powerful and moving, though not overpowering. Nicely done, all around, though I have to admit that I found the "Sony Handicam" style of filmmaking frustrating to watch. On Saturday, I met with the Otherspace folks and basically resigned from Otherspace. They have some ideas on how they can move forward, but I'm planning to just slip out and re-evaluate the whole animation thing. Then, Guy's Night Out, where we watched Die Hard 2 plus some random bits of anime. Lots of fun; it's a good group of guys. On Sunday, my Dad came over and he helped me clean up my garden. Expect photos soon. This morning, I got in to work an hour early so I could make a phone call at 8:30, then I was in meetings all morning. ...so I'm looking forward to relaxing tonight. Phwoar. I think I'll have more time to actually update this journal soon, at least. Comments:"If you look at people after coronary-artery bypass grafting two years later, 90% of them have not changed their lifestyle [to avoid repeat surgery, which is probable], says Dr. Edward Miller, dean and CEO at Johns Hopkins. "And that's been studied over and over and over again....Even though they know they have a very bad disease and they know they should change their lifestyle, for whatever reason, they can't."
Change or DIE. What if you were given that choice? For real. What if it weren't just the rhetoric that confuses corporate performance with life or death, but actual life or death? Yours. What if a doctor said you had to make tough changes in the way you think and act—or your time would end soon? Could you change? Here are the scientifically studied odds: nine to one. That's nine to one against you.
Ghost Stories
Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo9:00 Clean up my to-do list 10:00 Make phone calls 11:00 Write in my log 1:00 Go for a walk and meditate on nature 3:00 Make a mug of tea, eat some cookies, and re-read a few pages of The Brand You 50 4:00 Write in my log and fill out my timecard for the day
A fresh loaf of bread for dinner
My Halloween dinner, a ham and cheese sandwich with caramel popcornBlood, sweat, and tears
Really don't matter
Just the things that you do
In this garden.Brennen I think there is maybe an unspoken etiquette to this kind of forum (as much as it is a forum) which the comments you're referring to violate one way or the other. Anonymous statements to the effect of "you are whiny and lazy look at me I am much cooler than you and better equipped to deal with life" never feel great. I wouldn't sweat it much. Shadrone With the comments open to the whole net to write, you will get that sort of thing. But, I wouldn't put any weight behind a comment that isn't worth signing ones name to. If Mr. Perfect had a blog, someone, somewhere would post anon "j00 sux0r" to it. BTW, I use the screen anon on LJ just to deal with such people. Anything valid I'll unscreen, but there are just some plain trolls out there. Gret I agree with both comments, and the post. Stephen So is it good, or bad that I don't have such a commentary problem on my livejournal? Woo...hoo? :-) Animom BRAVO! These sound like productive and positive changes. Anonymous Perhaps you could make yourself available to other people who need help - money-wise, morale boosting, etc. You sound rather self absorbed. Anonymous As an artist myself, I can understand some of your thinking, but you sound like a small voice in the wilderness. Get out there and quit being so whiny! Gret I think the self-absorbtion [sp?] comes from the fact that this is a blog about his life, in my humble but accurate opinion. Lara "This doesn't solve any problems, really." - I think figuring out more about yourself does solve problems, in a way, only these would be problems that others don't see. And focusing on what one has achieved, as well as what one will, is a great step - accomplishment tends to be a good feeling, and that helps one's mood overall. Animom Problems solved may not just be present, but future ones avoided completely. Accomplishments no matter how small they may seem, encourage one to more. Most of all your honest thoughts and insight gained, can benefit others as well. Thanks for sharing from your life, Brent -- struggles and successes. Brent By the way, in response to requests, you can now have a larger textbox for writing comments. Just edit your preferences (click ), select the larger text box, and click the "Save" button. Gret To me sickness is your body saying, "It's time to take a rest" but at te same time what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Go for it. Brent On the other hand, what doesn't kill you can make you feel terrible for decades.... Anonymous Watching anime is something useful that requires dicipline? Is it like, Grave of the Fireflies or something? Animom "Do what you can do and what you can do is enough." I subscribe to that. Especially don't feel the ought to's when you're sick. You're real job is to get well. After that -- well - only YOU can decide what you're up to doing. You go like a house a fire most of the time, Brent -- sometimes you may just NEED a rest. :o) Anonymous Rest your mind- rest your body - rest your soul - then get on with the rest of your life. Nik Hmmmmm good idea to keep one's mind away from work for a while. Also interesting about the LEGO sotre comment. Asian culture seems to be popping up everywhere these days. I keep wondering if this is just a long fad which will fizzle out in 5 or 10 years. O well, all good things must come to an end. Lara Lara Malls can be nice for thinking and wandering about. I don't think that much of anyone would bat an eye at a person who came there just to sketch, or to take notes, or just to look. (Well. That didn't work the first time.) Shadrone To recharge I often kill pixels. Other rare times I build something, or generally work with my hands on something that feels productive. Animom Free cell recharges me for some strange reason. Animom Stirring the creative juices!? Yep, sounds right. I remember a time when malls were well populated with plants and sun windows, but, sadly, that has changed. (Presumably because of vandalism, and the expense of it.) Possibly a walk in the woods would be just as refreshing and creative? Brent A walk in the woods definitely recharges me, but it was about 35 degrees Fahrenheit on Sunday, so that was out. Anonymous It was 35 degrees [Fahrenheit] today, and I forced myself to shape up for lacross season by jogging 2 miles, then afterwards doing running excercises Brennen I think my sweet spot is, perhaps unfortunately, in the neighborhood of 0 at any given time. There is just not much space on the stack, so to speak. Brennen Actually, I like the stack model. If I were into that sort of thing, I'd design a geeky personal productivity system based on pushing & popping things into/from a literal physical stack, and write a blog post in the hopes of sparking some kind of hipster-PDAish fad. Stephen Sounds nifty, but more nifty if there could be parallel, linked stacks. I.e. "Learning to Program" could be on "personal" and "professional" stacks, and at different levels on each. Ok. How about a webs of projects. A core goal in the center and supporting goals surrounding? Brennen I think you might be getting into "Getting Things Done" territory there, but I haven't actually paid much attention to the whole GTD phenomenon. Stephen I've never heard of GTD. But then, I've never really been all that goal oriented :-) Brennen You might actually get a kick out of browsing around over on 43 folders (Google should provide a link). I'm not exactly an organization geek, but the tools-oriented vibe appeals to me. Animom I think everybody needs and deserves some down time. I vote it's good. Stephen And, as an aside. Writing long posts isn't easy in a one line text field. Or is this to discourage windy writing? :-) Brennen I really like the IRC-style input. This might be a sign of lingering nostalgia for IRC, but I actually think it works well because there's no burden to essentially write an entire post every time you comment. It's actually more like a discussion than most efforts at discussion boards. Brennen (The inputline could be a little bigger, maybe - 2 lines high? - but I think the basic design is really sound.) Brennen Well, I just got myself into a work-week that borders on impossible, for the next month or maybe two. I can sympathize. Shadrone There is a limit on how much one can accomplish without overstressing. Long work days cut into home time, so be sure to count the productivity at work in your daily total. I've got projects that have been waiting months for free time to do at home b'c of work schedules, you know, like vaccuming and the dishes. Brent Hmmm. Good points, all. (And great to see you, Shadrone!). I have been much more productive at work. So that counts for something. Anonymous Resting can be productive Brennen Sometimes I think that productivity is a skewed metric. Stephen Exactly. What *is* productivity? Brent Well, I define productivity as progress towards a goal. And, obviously, accomplishing goals isn't everything there is to life. But it is an important part. Stephen But how do you measure progress to a goal? Especially if that goal isn't a definite. If I'm working on a list of ten items and I check off three, then I can measure my productivity. But when there isn't a definite list of objectives, how can one measure productivity? If you shoehorn productivity goals into nebulous areas of improvement (like learning to write, or draw, or whatever) you introduce a means of convincing yourself that you are making progess if you aren't. Checkmarks have a way of impling improvement even if it isn't there. Anonymous So it is Zen that, if I may put it metaphorically, a wise man said "the perfect man employs his mind as a mirror. It grasps nothing, it refuses nothing. It receives but does not keep." And another poem says of wild geese flying over a lake, "The wild geese do not intend to cast their reflection, and the water has no mind to retain their image." - Alan Watts, Lecture on Zen Stephen Ahh, better now. Anonymous Hmm, that comment above is mine, but has "anonymous" Anonymous How about now? Anonymous Ha. Okay. The tags on the left say Anonymous - Stephen Brent Click either the little icon next to the text box, or the "(tell me your name)" link, to set your name as a cookie on this site. Brennen Nice. Brent Thanks, Bren! Stephen I did set my name as a cookie. It even displays on the left side, but it wasn't (isn't) displaying my name. "I'm very open-minded and don't want to live with anyone who is not."
Anonymous :o) Thanks for the opportunity to comment! Trying to figure out over-thinking and it's giving me a headache. :oD Anonymous Wow. When you say very soon now you really do mean very soon. Comments! Stephen This post looks very similar to your post from Sunday. Good ol' relaxation. But where do you draw the line between useful relaxation and someone stopping so much that they never start again? Who's to say that these stopped people aren't saving up a gigantic torrent of creativity? :-) Animom I like your thought, Stephen. I would take it even further. Not everyone has lots of creations -- some may have only ONE or possibly none! Not everyone is like say... Leonardo da Vinci. Some of us make the environment for others. Some are not creative at all -- or never discover their ability to create. But the combination of ability, discipline AND balance are basic to us all. Anonymous In ten years I want to be playing the greatest video games on the MegaXBox or PS7 or Nintendo Mindweaver. I think playing videogames in my free time is an effective way of preparing for that goal. Anonymous Addition: I wnat to be informed about world events and expand my knowledge. Spending time on the Intenet is great for that. Would you consider someone spending time at home with textbooks 100 years ago a waste of effort that would be better utilized? Gret In ten years I'd like to be running my own business. Stephen In ten years I'd like to be ten years older. Stephen I don't feel enslaved to any of my devices. They serve me well, but I'm not obligated to turn any of them on. Brennen I've felt over-tied to my electronics often enough. And it does seem like a good portion of the 'net is a direct product of compulsive behaviors. Stephen Plans are always good. They're like comments in code. Easy to write up if everything is planned correctly and useful for reference. So why not? Brent Because every minute you spend planning is a minute you could spend implementing. And if the end result isn't going to help the plan, why bother? Brent Note: I'm writing here about detailed plans, not scribbling down ideas and generally wrapping one's head around something. Stephen But what good is a clear vision or simple list of metrics if you're the *only* one with them. The thing about a plan is that more than one person can read and make suggestions about it. It's hard to peer review a goal that all in one person's head. Plus a vision and a list don't describe how to reach either of them. Animom :o) Anonymous As far as you can see they spend too much time goofing off? What folks do you see but don't talk to are you talking about here? Their slacking off has made you not realize that relaxing once in a while is good? Also, "I really needed some time to [...] do nothing of any consequence." I don't think you need to worry about that. Stephen Nice. Anyhoo, despite what some anonymous say, relaxing is all well and good. But what happened with eHarmony? Animom Key lime pie sounds delicious. Also, lemon poppy seed muffins are a favorite of mine. Glad you're getting some much needed R&R. I also think you should eliminate anonymous comments. You don't deserve to be a target. Brent I've been going out with a young woman from eHarmony, so I haven't really gone back there for a while. I'm pleased with it so far. Andre yeah ... i guess you should do what feels good... Anonymous Sounds good, one should do as many projects as they feel comfortable with. Otherwise things may be really painful and annoying after a while. Andre yeah ... i can imagine how you must feel ... Stephen I wouldn't do anything differently. I'm very happy with my life just as it is. It's *all* fun! :-) Anonymous I think I would avoid going to sleep ;-) Animom Possibly stay up and watch the sun rise. It would unsettle me, but of course, none of us have the promise of the next 24 hours. I'd definitely pray and be sure that all was well between me and my maker. Then I'd go to sleep. Nik Hmmmm probably carry on and talk to doctors or scientists asking for a "cure" or drug which would lower that percentage. Shadrone What makes you think that's a feeling that people you think of as experienced at dating don't feel? Embrase the butterflys, it's part of life. Relax and enjoy the time, have fun. Hmm. It's not a test you can practice for, this is life. Just live it for the experience. Shadrone Ignore spelling. I sux. Stephen That's awesome! Go Brent! The jitters are a natural part of the dating process that no one really ever gets over. You wouldn't believe how tough it was for me to ask Sarah out on our first date. The butterflies setup a small colony in my stomach. :-)
So have fun, relax, and good luck!Gret Congradulations, enjoy Thursday. Alice I think you'll do great. Nik Just be yourself, and if it goes well then that's great, if it goes bad then at least try to be friendly and above all just be yourself. Stephen Isn't this just a personal blog? :-)
What makes glances more important than your regular readers?
Where's the link on Seth's site?Stephen Never-mind, found the link. But he misspelled your name! Blah. Animom Your pages just get better and better. No sweat! Anonymous summery Brennen I think interesting is generally more important than polished. I'm never sure if I succeed on either count, though. Brent Comments should work again. Sorry about that; there were some permissions weirdnesses. Brent Sorry the comments haven't been working. Should work now. Stephen Meh, even we agree on a set of "do's" and "don'ts" anonymous posters won't care. But, as far as I'm concerned, the only "don't" is "Don't spam." Everything else is fair game when you invite the public to play. Brent What's spam in this context? Gret Good question Brent, I think that comments should be used to voice opinion, but I can't really say there's a "set in stone" limit that anyone has to follow. Brennen I agree that hard and fast rules aren't very effective (things like "don't spam" aside), but I do think there's a meaningful etiquette. Basically one of "don't crap in someone else's yard unless they really, really deserve it". I also think that there are kinds of degrees of publicness to weblogs, despite their being all theoretically open to the world... There's a meaningful difference between this and the front page of Slashdot. Brennen As to spam, I think in the context of comments, guestbooks, wikis, etc., it's taken on slightly unusual attributes: It's no longer aimed directly at human readers at all - since it's targetted at Google's ranking algorithm & similar measures of page popularity, it's sort of a perfectly meaningless machine-to-machine loop which has the unfortunate side effect of obliterating unprotected channels. Animom "Comment carefully & thoughfully so you're not misunderstood."
"Read the blog first and confine your comments to topic."
"Don't say anything you wouldn't say to a persons face."
"If you need to rant, start your own blog instead."
"Remember your comments are public not private."
"Be kind."
"Don't bash, be rude or insulting."
"Encourage your blogging friend."Stephen As I define it, spam is any advertisement for an unsolicited product or service, or any comment repeated more then once (or twice, allowing for accidental doubleclicks).
Everything else is part of that delightful ephemera of the Internet.Gret Thanks, I've been meaning to ask you this very question. Lara This Diner one sounds like PHC's Lake Wobegon, a little. Stephen I always thought the poetry was the reward. Creative people create just by being who they are. What useful reward can add to that? Animom Imagine poetry being appreciated by the many rather than the few. Brennen I was just reading a bit about Nelson again last week. He's a fascinating character, and Xanadu is/was a fascinating dream, though I think it's been eclipsed by the grandiosity of its ambitions and its disconnection from any kind of pragmatic implementation. I also think Nelson's plans have tended to suffer from a misplaced sense of total ownership, and Xanadu itself, the parts that can be deciphered, has elements of being a system for strong DRM & re-use payments, which I think are problematic. To say the least. Brennen If you haven't read Nelson's Computer Lib / Dream Machines, it's well worth jumping through a few library related hoops to find a copy. Saalon Actually I disagree. We can't control when we feel ready and when we don't, and I don't think it's possible to burn through your energy unless you're running yourself ragged for a long period of time, and you can typically feel that coming. If you have energy, use it. It's your body and mind telling you it's time to work. Listen to it. shadrone Some of the best things in life are found after you push yourself outside your comfort zone. Live life for the experiences. Anonymous SCORE!!!! Gret I relaxe by playing video games, perhaps poker online, something that I can focus on without distractions, but that won't take up to much energy. It helps to get my mind zoned back in. KEM Are you sure that the time you're setting aside for relaxation isn't becoming time set aside for another "activity"? Even free time can be made into a "To Do" item, in which case you'll only maintain your tensions instead of losing them.
I usually work through the day and then give myself 2 hours in the evening, plus dinner and some slight reading right before bed. This usually gives me the break I need to recharge.Stephen I'm not sure I understand the question. I relax by...relaxing? I think I'm just always relaxed. Kind of a Zen thing I guess. Stephen Maybe you are overthinking all this. It sounds like you are trying to make relaxation into work. Because if the only reason you relax is so that you can work better you're somewhat missing the point. Alan Watts had a great quote about this, I'll see if I can dig it up this weekend. Stephen Dug up. On my blog. Jack + Play = Work? Animom You know, I DO know what you mean. But TV has become something different than movies for me. I tend to look forward to the newest episode. There's a separate thrill to it. I can record for watching later if necessary -- very nice so I can avoid commercials altogether. But the waiting, the anticipation seems to make it better. I know that sounds weird - but it's true. I enjoy the weekly installment mode very much. In fact, when the schedule changes, I miss the routine and the expectancy of a NEW episode. When it's all there - it's too easy - too available. Not as good for me, at least. I tend to get blase about it more easily. Thanks! Interesting question - I never actually thought about it before. Gret I agree, my friend lent me the first season of Lost, and I watched 2 or 3 episodes a day, and it's a much better experience than watching it every week or so. Stephen Even better is torrents from HDTV sources. It looks better than cable, so Sarah and I watch them instead. Brennen Tele-what? Stephen Good advice, but there are times when toiling is required to reach a greater benefit than could be acquired without. Animom Amazing! Gret sweet Brennen I have actually noticed similar reactions in a couple of restaurants, though I could never be sure I wasn't just imagining things. In general I think people tend to notice, one way or another, when you're writing in public. Andre lol ... great :) Shadrone That same thing works in a lot of places. People are generally afraid of written info when they are involved. Stephen Why was her car towed? That sucks. Brent I think she accidentally parked next to a fire hydrant. It's in an odd little curb on an out-of-the-way street corner, so it's easy to do. I've parked there myself, in the past, without seeing the hydrant. Animom I love it! Serials are wonderful. Stephen I like the commercials at the start of a movie.
Also, unless these serials were self contained (like episodes of Samurai Jack) then they'd be annoying to watch. Which movie gets the next episode? If you delay the serials by time, does that mean you have to watch the same episode if you watch more than one movie in a one month (or whatever) period?Stephen But on the reverse, see what George Lucas did to Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, and Hayden Christensen (to name a few) in Eps. I-III.
Most of the great acting of Star Wars was done in Episodes V or VI, which were directed by Irvin Kershner and Richard Marquand, respectively.Animom My day was restful - it was good. (Previous day took all my reserve.) Gret yes
On emerald leaves
Set amongst pearl raindropsanimom Beautiful picture. I can almost smell the honesuckle! Gret Sounds like you're enjoying life, good. Stephen His extended edition of "Sin City" includes a ten-minute cooking school on making Breakfast Tacos.
But he warns (and I agree), once you make and eat these you will crave them with a passion.
The first step? "Go to your fridge and get some flour tortillas. Throw them away, they're garbage. I'm going to show you how to make *real* flour tortillas."Stephen Why is listening to your goals scary? It is only your admission to yourself that you aren't who you want to be or doing what you want to do. Easily solved by being who you want to be and doing what you want to do. If your desires change, then change with them. Don't force yourself to continue doing something because you feel that since you've already spent so much time on it, then that time would have been wasted. If you enjoyed what you were doing when you did it, then it isn't possible for that time to be suddenly misspent. Gret A stereo might also work perhaps? Brent I appreciate the suggestion, but a stereo just gives the house a hollow sound. It can work for a night or two, but not in the long term. Brennen I actually think this looks cleaner than the old one, somehow. Not bad. There is kind of an unresolved feeling that the boxes extend off the screen and I should scroll or something, but overall it works. Anonymous The colors look fine on this lcd. Anonymous Fine? Colors. LCD here. Animom I like it. KEM Nice! Much easier on the eyes! Stephen You should check the colors on a CRT. On our laptops the colors look ok, but on the CRT they don't look so well. Brennen I actually think they're ok on the (hulking, mediocre) 21" Dell-branded Sony thing I just bought. Though I wonder if Stephen is using a Mac desktop - I feel like I've noticed the Mac/PC gamma difference thing (to use very technical language) affecting background & text colors before. Brennen (OTOH, Brent probably designed the thing on a Mac. Either way, I use the word "actually" far too often.) Brent Yeah, the background color has quite a bit more purple on my CRT at work. Hmmm. Don't quite have a good solution at this time. Hmmmm. Brent I've tweaked it to make it a bit more brown. It looks better on my work CRT now. Animom The colors appear to be brown and beige on my PC.
'Tis hard to find a friend
That stays a friend forever;
Not wavering in loyalty
But there, and changing never.
But friends there are to have
Who patiently wait for us;
Never thinking selfishly,
And wouldn't dream to bore us.
Yes, friends there are to keep
So dear, and always will be
Our books, that sit on dusty shelves -
For us in deepest loyalty.Gret I like the new layout