Random Stuff and Whatnot

Skyrim Book Reviews, Titles Beginning with A

2012-02-16T18:35:00.003-06:00

Read these books within the game Skyrim, on The Elder Scrolls Wiki, on the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages, or download the Dovahkiin Gutenberg.

An Accounting of the Elder Scrolls, by Quintus Nerevelus, Former Imperial Librarian.

Since Skyrim is the first Elder Scrolls game I've played, I really wasn't familiar with the lore surrounding the titular Elder Scrolls. This was my introduction to the Elder Scrolls and the Moth Priests, as told by a librarian who sought to catalog these artifacts of arcane wisdom.

Of course, considering that I have worked as a cataloger for well over a decade and am presently working toward a Master's degree in library science, I am predisposed to favor a story that features a cataloging librarian. But even setting aside my bias, I do think this is an excellent story. It is tight, well-written, well-paced, and interesting. The narrator's voice is consistent and strong, and the story has a nice, if not completely surprising, twist at the end.

Four stars.

The Ababal-a

I believe it is meant to emulate the great epic tales of history, such as Beowulf, however the writing is convoluted and disjointed. Interesting ideas are presented in fragments that flit by with no connection to one another.

Two stars and a half stars.

Advances in Lock Picking

The author admits up front that he is not a good writer, and he is right. However, despite the purposely terrible writing, there was one piece of information worth opening this book for, beyond the skill point you earn for reading it: holding a torch near the lock makes it easier to pick. I have no idea if this is true in real life, and I can't imagine why it would be, but it has helped my lockpicking in Skyrim.

Two stars.

Ahzirr Trajijazaeri

A Khajiit explains the Khajiit mindset and customs to outsiders who are allies in their struggle against the Imperial oppressors. I felt more like I was listening to an oratory than reading a text. The narrator's voice is perfect, and I can envision him speaking these words with sweeping gestures of his hands and sly flicks of his ears and tail. If this were our modern world, I can imagine this Khajiit on stage, perhaps with a witty and clever PowerPoint presentation displayed on a screen behind him. Perhaps I'm just partial to Khajiit, but I found this book absolutely delightful in every way.

Five stars.

The Aludin/Akatosh Dichotomy, by Alexandre Simon, High Priest of the Akatosh Chantry, Wayrest, and Aludin is Real, and He Ent Akatosh, by Thromgar Iron-Head, prowd Nord

Although these are two separate books and you will likely find them in separate places around Skyrim, they should be taken as a set. When I first found Aludin is Real, I was put off by the painfully bad spelling and grammar, and I almost dismissed it as a junk book. But reading it back to back with The Aludin/Akatosh Dichotomy, I formed a very different opinion.

In The Aludin/Akatosh Dichotomy, the pompous priest Alexandre Simon has a theory about the Great Dragon Akatosh being known by different names in different regions, and he insists that the Nord stories of the great dragon Aludin are just corruptions of the Akatosh myth, and he dismisses any evidence to the contrary. In fine academic writing, he builds his case and dismisses contrary opinions from "the primitive peoples of Skyrim."

Aludin is Real is clearly intended to be a rebuttal of The Aludin/Akatosh Dichotomy, and the barely-literate "prowd Nord" makes his case with a treatise that a third-grade teacher would bleed five red pens dry correcting. Of course, the real author is an anonymous employee of Bethesda, who did a rather impressive job of creating the voice of Thromgar Iron-Head, despite a few occasional lapses into almost-correct standard English. The "prowd Nord" makes his case rather convincingly, actually, and I am inclined to believe his interpretation of Aludin over the analysis made by the priest from Wayrest.

Taken together, these two books present a very interesting commentary on cultural hegemony, local wisdom, and academia versus common sense.

Taken individually, neither of these books would have earned above three stars, but together, as perfect point and counterpoint, I give them five stars.

Amongst the Draugr, by Bernadette Bantien, College of Winterhold

Oh, those crazy mages. Who else would think to live in a crypt to study the undead? Her observations on draugrs are actually very interesting, and they serve to elevate the draugr above the average video game zombies. And her explanation of the connection between the rank-and-file draugr and the dead priest in the central tomb is positively chilling.

Four and a half stars.

The Amulet of Kings, by Wenengrus Monhona

This is full of good historical information for the world of Skyrim, but it's a little dry. I really don't have much say about it. I can't decide if it's interesting in a boring way, or boring in an interesting way.

Three stars.

Ancestors and the Dunmer

This provides a very interesting description of how the Dunmer once treated the bodies of their dead, with a particular focus on the Ghost Fence, which was made from the bones of their ancestors to anchor the ghosts to this world, so that the ghosts might protect the living. I didn't find this as creepy as some readers might, because I've seen with my own eyes the Ossuary at Sedlec in the homeland of my ancestors, and I felt it to be a holy and wonderous place. So building structures of human bones (or in the case of the Dunmer of Skyrim, elven bones) doesn't really creep me out. I thought it was a neat custom, and it made the Dunmer seem much more interesting to me. This probably isn't required reading, but I thought it enriched the game world greatly.

Four stars.

The Apprentice's Assistant: Advice from Valenwood's Most Prestitious Spellcaster

The pompous narrator reminds me a lot of Guilderoy Lockhart from the Harry Potter books. Next comparison: The Great and Powerful Trixie, from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. In short, Aramril, the narrator, is incredibly annoying. She gives useful advice on spellcasting, but probably not anything that the average player wouldn't have figured out on their own.

Two and a half stars.

Arcana Restored: A Handbook, by Wapna Neustra, Praceptor Emeritus

Written in stilted, archaic language, this book repeatedly tells you that you must have it in hand, "so that thou might speak the necessary Words straightaway, and without error." The Words here being an incantation for restoring power to depleted magic artifacts with the Mana Fountain. The author also repeatedly lambasts the work of Kharneson and Rattor, who presumably are his rivals. I haven't learned who they are yet. Perhaps they are the authors of another book that I haven't encountered. In any case, the Words of which Wapna speaks are not actually present in this book.

Three stars.

--

The Arcturian Heresy, by the Underking, Ysmir Kingmaker

This book wanders back and forth between present and past tense, sometimes within the same paragraph, making it painful to read. It has a lot of plot, and the poorest possible execution of that plot. It's almost like the author wrote an outline of the book they wanted to write, then though, "eh, good enough," and didn't bother to actually write the book. It reads like an awful first draft that never went through any kind of editing process.

Half a star, and I'm tempted to give it zero.

--

The Argonian Account, by Waughin Jarth

This is a four-volume set, and from the title, I expected it to be dull. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the well-written story and excellent pacing. It was neither too long nor too short, but exactly the perfect length without a wasted sentence. The protagonist is a well-paid civil engineer who has somehow managed to get by without ever doing any actual work. His boss, thoroughly deceived into believing that this man is actually one of his best employees, gives him a challenging assignment, one that might force him to work after all. The engineer journeys to the Black Marsh, where he is to improve the roads and bridges in an environment that is exceedingly harsh and hostile. I won't say anything more, because I don't want to spoil the many delightful surprises this story has to offer. Get all four books and read them in order. This is possibly the best Skyrim book I've read so far. Even people who don't play Skyrim might enjoy this story.

Five stars, solid.

--

The Armorers' Challenge, by Mymophonus

This is an enjoyable, if rather predictable, tale about two blacksmiths competing for a military contract. One is famous, has a magnificent forge, and has access to the highest quality materials. The other has next to nothing in terms of facilities and materials, however, he has the advantage in knowledge and experience. There is nothing new in this little parable, but the writing style is clean, and it's a pleasing read.

Four stars.

--

The Art of War Magic, by Zurin Arctus, with Commentary By Other Learned Masters

The title fairly well sums it up. This is full of tactical advice for battlemages. How useful any of it is, I can't say. I found several pieces of advice to be contradictory. One passage recommends allowing your enemy to win before striking, while another suggests not engaging the enemy unless your own victory is secure. The anecdote about the Chimer sorcerer's ice demon was reasonably entertaining, though, and the book is worth reading just for that.

Two and a half stars.

--

Note: I am not connected to Bethesda in any way, and no one asked me to do these reviews. I am doing this purely for my own fun, as time allows. I don't have an agenda, other than the joy of reading and writing. If I panned your favorite Skyrim book, sorry. If I gave five stars to one you thought was awful, also sorry. These are my opinions and mine alone. You're entitled to your own.

Skyrim Book Reviews: 2920

2012-02-11T14:39:00.002-06:00

It's time to dust off this moldering, old blog and start posting again. Why? Skyrim, of course. In my spare time, late in the evening after I finish my grad school homework, I like to play The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim on my unpatched, offline PS3. People talk about how horrible and unplayable the unpatched Skyrim is, but honestly, I haven't had any game-breaking problems yet. Sure, I've had crashes, poor refresh rates, and distracting lags, but it hasn't been nearly as bad as it was with Fallout 3 or Fallout: New Vegas, and I made it through both of those games.

But I'm not going to talk about the game, not really. No, I'm going to talk about the books. The world of Skyrim is enormous, diverse, and gorgeous. You have ten races to choose from for your character, five houses you can own, more than forty followers you can recruit, and about three different types of enemies. Okay, there are more enemy types than that, but sometimes it feels like all I ever get to fight are bandits and draugrs and bears, oh my! And the occasional random dragon. But my favorite part of the game world is the books. There are hundreds of them, all with unique content. Translated into real-world pages, most of these books are actually short stories. However, they provide quite a lot of backstory to enrich the game-world.

My character, Sekhmet the Khajiit warrior-librarian, is filling her Breezehome house with books. Breezehome doesn't have a lot of bookshelves, but it's the only house she has, so she's also using end tables and other storage containers for books. She's established a distinct reference collection, along with separate serials, history, and fiction sections. (Yes, I'm a little OCD.) Sekhmet accumulates books in-game faster than I, in real life, can read them. (Sometimes, when you're running through a dungeon and you have to shut the game off soon, you just don't have time to read the six new tomes you found.) So imagine my delight when I discovered the Dovahkiin Gutenberg , where a kind bibliophile-gamer has compiled all of the books into a single, downloadable, 1064-page EPUB document, which I was able to load on my Nook. Now I can read the books of Skyrim on my breaks at work and while sitting in waiting rooms.

As I'm reading these books, I'm finding some of them to be delightful, and other to be flat-out terrible. And so I have decided to launch a series of blog posts reviewing the books of Skyrim. I'm going to follow along with the order in which they are presented in the Dovahkiin Gutenberg, because it'll be easier for me to keep track of. You can also see the full text of these books at both The Elder Scrolls Wiki and The Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages . And, of course, you can find the books laying around all over Skyrim, to collect, read, sell, or decorate your character's home with. But if your reading time is limited, my goal with these reviews is to tell you, without spoilers, which books are worth spending your time on.

Note: I am not connected to Bethesda in any way, and no one asked me to do these reviews. I am doing this purely for my own fun, as time allows. I don't have an agenda, other than the joy of reading and writing. If I pan your favorite Skyrim book, sorry. If I give five stars to one you thought was awful, also sorry. These are my opinions and mine alone. You're entitled to your own.

And so, finally, we come to my first review:

2920: The Last Year of the First Era

This is a massive twelve-volume set, and reading it represents no small time commitment. Don't try to read them out of order; the story is far too convoluted. If you're collecting them in the game, wait until you have all of the volumes to read them. (By all means, though, open them to collect your skill points, and then set them on a shelf for later.) The volumes, in order, are:

2920, Morning Star, v1 (Boosts your One-Handed skill)

2920, Sun's Dawn, v2 (Boosts your Illusion skill)

2920, First Seed, v3 (No skill bonus)

2920, Rain's Hand, v4 (Boosts your Restoration skill)

2920, Second Seed, v5 (Boosts your Speech skill)

2920, MidYear, v6 (Boosts your Heavy Armor skill)

2920, Sun's Height, v7 (No skill bonus)

2920, Last Seed, v8 (Boosts your Sneak skill)

2920, Hearth Fire, v9 (Boosts your Conjuration skill)

2920, Frostfall, v10 (Boosts your Conjuration skill)

2920, Sun's Dusk, v11 (No skill bonus)

2920, Evening Star, v12 (No skill bonus)

Conveniently, the book titles in order also serve as a handy reference guide for the naming system for the twelve months of the year. (Unfortunately, they won't show up in order in your inventory or on your bookshelf--they sort alphabetically.)

Within the Skyrim-verse, 2920 would be considered a historical novel. It took me a couple of volumes to really get into it, because there are so many characters that it was hard to keep track of them all. But the series is long enough to eventually make good use of all of those characters. If anything, I wish it were longer. Not that I wish for more story, but that I wish that the story that is present were told in much greater detail. Given the detailed plot, 64 pages really isn't enough to flesh it out properly, and so it felt cursory and abrupt. It also could have used some editing, as there were a few distracting typos and wrong words used in place of a homonym. But overall, this series is worth reading, just for the twisting intrigue and political backstabbing.

Three and a half stars.

Achievement Unlocked: Fifth Novel, First Draft Complete

2011-03-17T21:30:00.000-05:00

Tonight I finally finished the novel I began during National Novel Writing Month. I wrote every single day, from the first of November through today, as a personal challenge. The first draft weighs in at 40 chapters and a staggering 120,234 words.

This has been quite a learning experience. I do not think I will write another novel by these rules. My usual style involves taking breaks from writing while I think things through, and it often involves backing up a few chapters and restarting from wherever the plot derailed. I did not do that with this story. As part of my challenge, I had to move the story forward every time I wrote. I could not go back and tinker with earlier chapters. That meant no fixing of errors that I knew to be present. That meant continuing to the end of the story with several characters who I already knew would disappear completely in the rewrites.

It has been a rough haul, especially since January 1, when one of my favorite aunts had a heart attack; she passed away four days later. My father, who has severe osteoporosis, fell on January 3 and shattered his hip. He is still unable to stand or walk a single step. So between my grief and worry, 2011 has provided me with a lot of dark days so far, and the year isn't even a quarter over. But I still wrote. I still made myself sit down at the computer and add to the story every day, even when it was the very last thing I wanted to do. On some of the worst days, I was lucky to produce two sentences. But still, I did it. I wrote a novel in four and a half months, instead of four and a half years.

I can honestly say that the majority of what I have written since January 1 has been flat terrible. But, as one of my friends often says, "Get it writ, then get it right."

And now, I have a complete first draft and, with the challenge officially over, the freedom to rip it apart and edit the living bejezzus out of it. The last half of the book might end up being entirely new. But that's all right. This should be the fun part.

Fail All Over

2011-01-22T10:28:00.006-06:00

Here are a few fails I've spotted around Omaha over the last few years.

1) In the Arts & Sciences Hall at UNO:

So, if you're looking for room 303, which way do you go?

2) At the intersection of Farnam St. & and Turner Blvd.:

Walk? Don't walk? Hard to tell when there's a pole right in front of the crossing signal.

3) In the Old Market:

Three hour parking . . . two hour maximum.

4) At PetCo:

Brought to you by the Department of Redundancy Department.

5) At Borders:

I don't know about you, but test prep guides aren't exactly my idea of leisure reading.

The Christmas Demon

2010-12-24T10:13:00.003-06:00

This season, I've seen articles on Krampus on both Way Past Normal and on Topless Robot. Krampus, if you haven't heard of him, is the Christmas demon who accompanies St. Nicholas on his rounds, punishing the bad children with something far more horrific and traumatic than a mere lump of coal. Krampus, a folkloric figure in Austrian, Bavarian, and other alpine areas, seems to be enjoying an internet-driven surge in worldwide popularity lately.

Lesser known to Americans is the Czech version of St. Nicholas (Mikuláš), who is accompanied by both a devil and an angel. St. Nicholas comes on the eve of his name day, Dec. 6. Although the devil bears a resemblance to Krampus, with the disturbingly long tongue, I don't think he's actually the same demon. I've never seen names ascribed to the Czech devil or angel.

This illustration by Josef Lada comes from the book Dětem, and it depicts the scenes of winter (Zima). Note St. Nicholas in the center, robed as a bishop, with the angel at his right hand with a basket of good things (probably fruit and nuts) for good children, and the devil on his right hand, carrying what looks like a whip or a chain. Note the children on their knees, pleading with St. Nicholas for something good, or perhaps praying that the devil won't whip them.

Other details I'd like to draw your attention to include the man playing the dudy (Czech bagpipe), seen just behind and to the right of the devil; the carp in the lower right corner, which is the traditional Czech Christmas meal; and the ominous raven on the right-hand side of the picture. I have no idea what the raven is about. Can anyone enlighten me?

Lunar Eclipse

2010-12-23T10:13:00.005-06:00

Sorry I'm a little late in posting this, but here are a couple of pictures I took during the total lunar eclipse on the winter solstice, three nights ago.

1:56 am, CST: Totality.

3:18 am, CST: Emerging from the Earth's shadow.

NaNoWriMo Victory

2010-11-30T22:43:00.001-06:00

Today concludes National Novel Writing Month. This was my first year actually doing it, and I did indeed meet my goal.

I didn't officially sign up on the NaNoWriMo site because I didn't want another login and password to remember, nor another website that I'd have to check in with. As it was, I unsubscribed from a substantial number of RSS feeds to cut down on the amount of time I spent screwing around online.

I did, however, abide by the NaNoWriMo rules:

1) I started a new story from word one, not using any previously written material.

2) I wrote every single day. Sometimes I only made a couple hundred words, but I never skipped.

3) I reached the NaNoWriMo target goal of 50,000 words in the month. In fact, when I stopped typing forty-five minutes ago, I was at 52,515 words.

The story is not complete. I feel like I'm at about the halfway point, or a bit past it. I'll keep going, possibly not at the same exhausting pace, but hopefully at a faster pace than was my habit prior to this month, until I reach the end. It normally takes me three to five years to finish the first draft of a novel, so I feel nothing short of stupefied when I look at how much I've generated in these thirty days.

My perception of what I am capable of has shifted.

It's good to challenge oneself on occasion.

Congratulations also to any of you who tackled NaNoWriMo and met your personal goal.

Vacation in Washington, D.C.

2010-10-10T13:30:00.028-05:00

I went to Washington, D.C., with my friend Katherine in late September. I've finally gotten around to sorting through my pictures.

The U.S. Capitol building itself is very impressive. Here's the dome as seen from the steps of the Library of Congress. As you can see, there is some construction going on. I don't know whether they were cleaning or repairing the dome.

Inside the dome, looking up. Note George Washington draped in a plum-colored blanket.

For every state in the union, there are two statues representing significant deceased personages from that state, life-sized in bronze or marble. For Nebraska, big surprise, we have William Jennings Bryan and J. Sterling Morton.

And here is the Capitol at night. I felt a great, stirring awe pressing on my chest at the sight of the Capitol building, because I wasn't expecting it. We just happened to drive by on the way to the hotel after visiting friends. I just looked out the car window and there it was. Beautiful.

For me, the Library of Congress was a major highlight of the trip. The library is comprised of three buildings, with the Jefferson Building being the oldest and most beautiful. These pictures are of the Jefferson Building. Everywhere you look, from floor to ceiling, you are treated to something beautiful--paintings, mosaics, sculptures, and other architectural details. It is like a cathedral for knowledge and scholarship.

I didn't get to explore too much of the Smithsonian, but I did get to visit the outdoor portion of the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden. Even though it was insanely hot that day (early in the morning and already over 90 degrees), I really enjoyed all of the bronze works. I have a thing for bronze sculpture.

I love the stamp tree! We used to use these (real ones) at work until a few years ago.

The Air and Space Museum was wonderful. I had seen it before, back in 1986, when I was in junior high school. Some of the things I remembered were still there. One of my favorites, namely the remote-controlled flying model of the Quetzalcoatlus northropi, was gone.

However, it was awesome to see SpaceShipOne, the X-Prize-winning spacecraft that proved you don't need heat shields to return from orbit. If you go slow enough, friction doesn't burn up the ship. What amazed me most about SpaceShipOne was how tiny it was--about the same size as the Spirit of St. Louis, which it was hanging next to. (You can see the engine and wing of the Spirit of St. Louis in the upper right corner.)

And I was amused to see Patty Wagstaff's plane hanging upside-down. I thought that was a wonderful acknowledgement of her aerobatic talents.

At the Natural History Museum, I saw a Chocobo! Okay, it was a Diatryma steini, but it sure looks like a Chocobo to me. Wark!

One day I went out alone, and I walked the long circuit around the monuments, starting and ending at the Washington Monument.

After walking around the tidal basin, my first stop was the Jefferson Memorial. It was undergoing renovations, so part of it was blocked off. I did eventually find my way around to the entrance, and I got to go inside. However, I like the way you can see the statue's profile between the pillars in this shot.

After that, I continued on to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. It's a sprawling, ground-level, outdoor structure of red granite with many waterfalls and bronze sculptures. Carved into the granite are numerous quotations from FDR. It's meant to show the four terms of his presidency in chronological order, but I started at the wrong end, and I went back in time from World War II into the Great Depression. Still a very nice monument, though. Looks like it would be a really nice place to sit and read.

As I continued on toward the Lincoln Memorial, because I was on foot, I noticed a few things I might not have seen if I were on a tour bus. One was this little monument to John Ericsson, inventor of the screw propeller. It was planted on the center island that divided lanes of traffic. Such a nice monument to someone I'd never heard of before.

And as I came in sight of the Lincoln Memorial, I got distracted by these colossal bronze horses on the bridge. There were four of them, two wingless and two winged. I was able to get close to one of the wingless ones, but I couldn't find a way to cross the tangled web of extremely busy streets to get close to the others. But my camera has a decent telephoto, so I was still able to enjoy the winged horses.

Finally, I made it around to the Lincoln Memorial. I have seen so many movies (and even a video game) featuring the statue come to life in various ridiculous situations that I was relieved to find I could still be impressed and awed by the reality of it.

From there I made the obligatory detours to the Vietnam War Memorial, where three bronze soldiers look toward the wall of names.

Across the way, the Korean War Memorial is equally impressive. A highly-polished black granite wall, etched with faces and scenes of the war, reflects the ghostly images of the ash-gray sculptures of soldiers trudging through knee-deep foliage.

I took many pictures of the Washington Monument and the Reflecting Pool, but this ended up being my favorite, because it's the least obvious. The Reflecting Pool is barely visible through the stand of trees that runs parallel to it.

The World War II Memorial is both somber and triumphant, and it was one of the most moving for me. There were many old veterans in wheelchairs at the site. There seemed to be a ceremony at the South Dakota pillar, where a folded flag had been placed.

Last but not least, this Masonic Temple was very near the hotel where we stayed. I never went any closer to it than this, but I did develop a certain affection for it as one of my landmarks for knowing when we were near "home." One morning, the clouds were so beautiful and pink, and the moon was still high in the sky. It was so beautiful.

Last Month for "Stay"

2010-10-01T05:31:00.003-05:00

This is the last month to read my short story "Stay" in Crossed Genres Issue 12. At the end of October, my contract expires, and the issue will no longer be available in print or on the website. So please read "Stay" before it's gone!

Welcome to THE FUTURE

2010-08-21T15:38:00.012-05:00

It's no secret that I love vintage science fiction. I love seeing how people in the past imagined the future, especially when their future is my present.

I found such a gem at the library, a children's book called Tomorrow's Home by Neil Ardley, published in 1981. I was nine years old in 1981, dreaming of the future.

How does 2010 stack up to what we envisioned back then?

Right in the foreword, we are told that "in the future the members of a family will spend more time together in their home than they do now. The reason is that computers and robots should give us more leisure time in which to be together . . ."

Ah-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaa! Yes, that's true. This "leisure time" is called "unemployment."

(If you think I'm making a joke, check out "The Polarization of Job Opportunities in the U.S. Labor Market" by David Autor of MIT. The report suggests that the decline of the middle class is due, in part, to automation. In other words, the jobs that used to provide a decent middle class living are now predominantly done by computers and robots.)

But enough about the depressing side of life in 2010. We're looking at THE FUTURE.

Well, they got the little robot vacuums right. The artist even imagined the robo-vac terrorizing the cat. I may not have a Roomba, but evidence on YouTube suggests that cats are not particularly alarmed by them.

But as for the rest of the household robots--well, that didn't pan out so much. Look at this little robot bringing this hardworking rancher a drink (while other robots tend his cattle). Where's my robot maid to bring me root beer and M&M's?

But sometimes they take the robot servant thing too far. I mean, look at this.

Is it really all that hard to pour a bowl of cereal? Do you really need two robots to do it for you? No wonder we have an obesity epidemic in the 21st century. We don't get off our butts to do a darned thing. (The book didn't mention that part. I don't think anyone in the past saw the obesity thing coming. If anything, futurists of the past imagined we'd all be skinny and starving from massive food shortages.)

The book hit pretty close on video games. Our games aren't 3D like this one yet (although the explosion of 3D CGI movies in theaters in the last year or so makes me think video games will follow sooner rather than later), but they did correctly predict that the games would be played online with many other players.

Then again, their view of technology was surprisingly limited in other ways. Check out this videophone computer. It's HUGE! This monster would take a whole room of someone's house!

Aren't you glad we got laptops and smartphones instead?

(Yes, I know that's just a static image of me on the computer screen. I don't have wireless internet in my apartment, so it's not like I could connect to Skype without going to the library. But you know what a videoconference looks like. Don't pretend you don't. And if you really don't, then just go watch a commercial for the iPhone 4.)

Overall, the predictions in that 1981 book were not entirely unreasonable. I was surprised at how close some of them came. I suppose the real barrier to every household having the things they describe is cost. That's one thing these futurist books never really seem to address, that some people will have these things, and others will be left wishing they could afford them.

I'm going to leave you with one of the more improbable things described in the book, the ability to watch a movie in your living room AND to act the lead role yourself, replacing the actor who originally starred in the role.

Wow, that sounds pretty farfetched . . . oh wait, it we have that. Yoostar is supposed to do exactly that. I've never had the opportunity to try it, so I don't know how well it works, however it does exist.

I think this pretty well proves that anything you can imagine will eventually come to pass. And I honestly do believe that many inventors are driven to create the sci-fi gadgets that inspired them as children. In fact, the website Technovelgy connects sci-fi ideas of the past with the technologies of today. Everything we have started out with someone saying, "What if . . ."

There are many more predictions in Tomorrow's Home than I actually scanned or mentioned. If you'd like to read it or see the rest of the pictures, check it out at a library near you.

Vacation in Branson

2010-07-19T20:46:00.027-05:00

I went to Branson, Missouri, with my mom and stepdad last week. We stayed in a condo right on Table Rock Lake, so we had an amazing view. I would take walks in the morning and enjoy views like this . . .

And close encounters with weeping rock faces, like this . . .

And every evening after we came home from whatever we were doing, we got to witness glorious sunsets across the lake. (These two pictures were taken on different nights.)

At Branson Landing, every hour on the hour, they do a "fire and water" show. Fountains and fire jets are timed to shoot along with a musical selection that is played over the intercom. The angle of the sun was just right to produce a rainbow when the water jets shot high.

Of course, when one thinks of Branson, one thinks of shows. We went to only two shows, but they were both stellar. We saw Six, a group of six brothers who sing without instrumental accompaniment. All of their percussion and other sounds are produced with their own voices. They are a very talented bunch.

We also saw Cassandre' (yes, that's an apostrophe, not an acute--no, I don't know why), a singer from Nebraska (yay!). Turns out, she and my folks have some acquaintances in common from Nebraska music education circles, so they had a nice chat after the show. Cassandre' has a fantastic voice, and she was supported by an excellent ten-piece orchestra, each musician of which played two or more different instruments, depending on the needs of the song (except the pianist, because every song called for the piano). I expected a nice concert (and was not disappointed), but I did not expect the hilarious musical comedy of Cassandre's "Aunt Irma" who took the stage a couple of times. I absolutely adored Auntie's antics.

At dinner one evening at the condo clubhouse, performers from various shows came in to do brief skits or single songs, like commercials. So I suppose that counts as a show, too.

Now, I know it's a requirement that every show in Branson includes a minimum of one hymn and one patriotic tune. No problem there; that's all good. But what I don't get is why all three shows (including the thing at the clubhouse) included the song "Pretty Woman." Is that the new Branson anthem? It's probably just a coincidence, but it was just bizarre hearing three different live renditions of "Pretty Woman" in the space of one week. I could do without hearing that song again for a couple of years.

One day, Mom and I went down to Arkansas to see the Ozark Medieval Fortress and to visit some caves. On the way, we passed through Omaha, Arkansas, population 166. This was tremendously amusing to me, as I live in Omaha, Nebraska, population 454,731.

The Ozark Medieval Fortress is quite amazing, easily my favorite thing that I saw on this trip. They are building a 13th-century-style fortress from locally-quarried stone and local timber, using only 13th-century technology. (The exceptions being modern concessions required by OSHA, such as steel-toed boots and protective eyewear.) Some of the tools they are using are antiques imported from Europe. Many of these tools are no longer made. For example, they are using a stone-splitting tool that is over 700 years old. It was found inside the walls of an old castle in Europe, where apparently some stonemason back then got tired of his job and buried his tools on the site. The fortress is a new attraction, in its first year of construction. It will take them 20 years to complete it, but people are invited to visit the site, observe the progress, and talk to the workers. If I lived within an hour of the site, I'd probably go several times a year just to watch the walls grow.

And check out this medieval crane for lifting heavy stones. Looks like a lot of work for the man in the hamster wheel!

My second favorite site was the caves. We visited two caves which were located on the same grounds, Mystic Cavern and Crystal Dome. We had a fantastic tour guide who provided a lot of the history behind the caves.

The large structure in this picture is called the "Pipe Organ." The reason should be obvious.

Mystic Cavern was home to an illegal still during the Prohibition Era. Soot from the still stains the ceiling and walls of the cavern to this day. Back in the deepest room of the cave, where the bootleggers were operating, the heat from the still permanently damaged the rocks, making them brittle and stopping the growth of the formations. The cave later sustained heavy damage from vandalism, and most of the stalactites, stalagmites, and other formations were broken off. Even so, the cave remains beautiful.

I was fortunate enough to see a salamander in Mystic Cavern.

Only a few hundred feet away, but not actually connected to Mystic Cavern, is Crystal Dome, which was discovered only a few decades ago. This cavern has been protected since it was discovered, and thus it is as close to pristine as any non-geologist is likely to ever see. Some of the crystal formations are pure white, and there are delicate soda straws hanging from the ceiling.

The most stunning feature of this cavern is its namesake: the eight-story dome. Looking up from the bottom fills one with awe and wonder, and makes one just a little dizzy. The picture doesn't begin to do it justice.

And Crystal Dome also contains a funny little ribbon that, from the side, looks just like a delicious slice of bacon. Mmm, bacon. You could almost hear the sizzle.

On another day, we visited the Butterfly Palace in Branson, which is exactly what the name implies--a pretty indoor garden where you can stroll around in the company of hundreds of butterflies.

The last exhibit I visited was Ripley's Believe It Or Not Odditorium, which was a very entertaining collection of bizarre artifacts from around the world. The one that actually made me say "unbelievable" out loud was the glass case containing objects found inside the stomach of a single shark, including multiple anchors, horseshoes, large bones, bathing suits, and piles and piles of other stuff. Must have been one ginormous shark!

Something I saw in passing, and snapped a picture of as we drove by, was this herd of driftwood horses. I would have loved a closer look at those, but we just never got the chance.

Speaking of driftwood, we also stopped by the College of the Ozarks (aka Hard Work U) a couple of times. Their furniture is student-made, and it is beautiful. If you ever have the opportunity to dine at the College of the Ozarks, do. Their student-run restaurant is superb. I had trout there that I think was the most delicious meal I had on this trip, and I had quite a few delicious meals all over.

One of the other lovely meals I had was at the Altenhof Inn, a German restaurant and pizzaria overlooking Table Rock Lake. The place was difficult to find, but the view was top notch. The Jägerschnitzel was quite tasty, too.

One thing about the whole Branson/Table Rock Lake area--there are vultures. In town, out of town--almost anytime you look up, you see vultures. Good thing I like vultures.

The weather for the week was either uncomfortably hot and humid, or raining. We had quite a few thunderstorms. But sometimes they brought rainbows.

You're Registration Form FAIL

2010-07-01T16:37:00.004-05:00

On the wild, wild web today . . .

"You're Registration Form has Been Submitted."

AAAAARGH!

You'd think a big company that makes such wonderful eyeglass lenses would be able to hire an English major to catch things like this.

Judging when to use "your" versus "you're" is so easy that it makes this error all the more grating. "You're" is a contraction of "you are." If you can't substitute "you are" in the sentence, then the word you're looking for is "your."

Flooding in Schuyler

2010-06-12T20:56:00.005-05:00

These pictures were taken mid-afternoon in Schuyler, Nebraska. I hear the water levels have gone up considerably since then. And thunderstorms are forecast for tonight. I am afraid the whole town will flood.

Here is Shell Creek, at the north-east edge of town.

And here is Lost Creek, at the south-east edge of town.

The ditches and fields are flooded.

The water is halfway up the wheels on these trucks. Note how the exposed wheel plus the reflection forms an almost perfect circle.

This is the golf course. I expect that the geese are the only ones enjoying this situation.

And the bridge by the park is completely covered, with only the railings showing.

I am concerned for all of my family and friends in Schuyler. May you all be safe and well.

Forest Creatures

2010-05-25T16:26:00.003-05:00

I went for a walk at Fontenelle Forest this morning. Before I even entered the forest, this baby rabbit crossed my path. He was hanging out near the door of the Nature Center, just hopping back and forth across the sidewalk, nibbling at the leaves of the various garden plants lining the way.

Just as I began my walk, while I was still in sight of the Nature Center, I encountered a family of three woodchucks. Here they are all lined up in a row.

Later on, I encountered a young dear. Notice his little nubby budding antlers.

And, of course, there were turkeys everywhere. I lost count of how many I saw, but I encountered individuals and groups of turkeys throughout my walk, start to finish. And even when I couldn't see them, I could hear them gobbling in the distance.

The neat thing about this tom is that periodically throughout his plumage display, he'd fluff up his feathers with a dramatic whooshing sound, and he'd charge forward a step or two as he did this. It sounded really cool. That's exactly what he's doing at the end of this video, when he goes behind the log and turns away. Unfortunately, the sound was too soft to be heard on the video. Still, he put on quite a show. I watched him for at least five minutes, and I never saw a turkey hen in the vicinity. Maybe he was showing off just for me.

I have more forest photos on Flickr.

More Zoo Pictures

2010-05-25T16:07:00.004-05:00

I went to the zoo again yesterday. (Yes, again. There are no individual memberships available, and since I have no spouse or children to take along, that means I need to go to the zoo rather frequently to make the cost of the family membership worthwhile.)

These red river hog babies are not even a month old.

The white-ruffed lemur was sleeping with his paw resting on his friend. The red-ruffed lemur looked a bit annoyed by this.

Most of the lemurs were napping in the grass, but this guy was sprawled on a nice hot rock.

And here's a super close-up of his adorable foot.

But even if the lemurs were all asleep, the ostriches were frisky.

This ostrich mooned me. (Well, actually, he was showing off his plumage to a female that happened to be on the opposite side.) Doesn't the bare underside of an ostrich's wing look freaky?

Look closer . . . see that extra claw or thumb sticking out, about two thirds of the way from the elbow to the wingtip? Weird!

I have more zoo photos on Flickr.

The Unamused Giraffe is Watching You

2010-05-16T21:34:00.004-05:00

I ended up renewing my zoo membership after all. It's a nice, safe place to take a walk. Plus, I love checking up on my favorite animals.

Check out my Flickr photostream to see more.

Treasure of Tarmin

2010-04-28T19:04:00.002-05:00

Today, I saw this video of the old Intellivision game Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Treasure of Tarmin.

It wasn't the first game I ever played, not by a long shot, but it was the first one that got its hooks deep, deep in my heart. I remember staying up all night playing this game, trying to make it all the way to level 255, where the strongest minotaur dwelled. I was 10 or 11 at the time, and I'm reasonably certain Dad didn't know I wasn't in bed sleeping.

Now, I'm not hurting for videogames these days. I bought a PlayStation 3 this week, and I've been playing God of War III. The graphics for God of War III are astonishing, near film quality at times. The gameplay is complex and challenging, with a lot of variation. Qualities lacking in even the best games of the early 1980s.

But when I watched that video of good old Treasure of Tarmin, I felt a smile pull across my face and a gentle warmth bubble up in my heart. And I wished I still had that game (and the system to run it on), because I wanted to play it again. Though it was simple and repetitive, and the graphics weren't all that great (although they weren't bad for the time, no not at all), Treasure of Tarmin was a part of my childhood, a sweet and beautiful memory for me. Yes, I just called a dungeon crawl "beautiful." And it was. It sparked my imagination and made me feel like I was really on an adventure.

And as much as I'm enjoying the newer games, very few of them touch my soul in the same way. Nostalgia is truly a powerful force.

Would you like to hear something beautiful?

2010-04-15T17:12:00.004-05:00

The Syracuse University Library is making digital copies of their old wax cylinder recordings available. Have a listen to these beautiful church bells, recorded in 1923.

It's a part of Syracuse University's Belfer Audio Archive. They are digitizing thousands of these old wax cylinder recordings.

Not into church bells? How about a rousing march, instead? Or perhaps some whistling?

It gives me goosebumps to think of the wonderful audio treasures they're preserving and sharing with the world. Explore their site and enjoy.

Declutterization Achieved

2010-04-05T19:31:00.000-05:00

I hope everyone had a happy Easter!

My resolution to give up junk for Lent was great success. I managed to discard, recycle, donate, or otherwise give away of at least one thing every day, and most days I got rid of several things. And while the selection of items I got rid of was a tiny percent of the total amount of stuff I own, it was enough to make my apartment feel a less cluttered and more spacious.

The other part of my resolution--to not buy anything frivolous--was equally beneficial. I encountered several things I wanted throughout the forty days, and I told myself that I could buy them after Easter. The thing is, now that some time has passed, I no longer want them. I should impose a mandatory waiting period on all toys and trinkets, to weed out regrettable impulse buys in favor of carefully considered purchases. I might save a lot of money and achieve a much slower rate of material accumulation.

I still have a few things to get rid of, which I plan to offer to specific people rather than tossing into the donation box. So I'm not finished decluttering, but I'm released from the commitment to do it every single day. But I think I will keep an open donation box in my apartment all the time, so it remains an ongoing part of my lifestyle.

An Experiment in Living Single-Handedly

2010-03-27T11:08:00.002-05:00

Writers do crazy things sometimes. We like to get new experiences to inspire and inform our writing. Today, I tried an experiment. In the novel I'm working on right now, one of the main characters loses her right hand up to the middle of her forearm. She's right handed, and so am I. In order to better understand what her life would be like so I can write her more effectively, this morning, immediately after I got out of bed, I taped the fingers and thumb of my right hand together and went through my morning routine using only my left hand. Read on for the bedeviled details.

Making the bed wasn't too hard, but it didn't come out as tidy as usual.

The cats' breakfast was a huge challenge. Picking up the heavy bowl of water from the floor, rinsing it in the sink, and refilling it from the Brita pitcher was harder than I expected. Being right handed, my left arm is weak and my left hand less dexterous. Using the nondominant hand for ordinary things requires a lot of extra thought and attention.

I had to scrape last night's leftovers from the cats' bowls. I sat on the floor and braced the bowl against the bottom of my foot while I scraped, then dumped the loose debris into the trash.

I didn't attempt to hand wash the dishes. If I had to live like this every day, I would probably use a dishwasher.

Opening a pop-top can of cat food, I could only get the lid pulled about halfway back. I had to use my teeth to grip the pull tab to finish the job.

Opening a child-safe bottle of medicine, I needed to press the lid against the underside of my chin while I turned the bottle with my hand.

Pulling apart a capsule pill to pour the powder onto the cat food, I needed to very delicately clench the wider end of the capsule between my teeth while I pulled the other end with my fingers.

My efforts to stir the powder into the medicine were both slower and less thorough than usual, because I could not hold the bowl in place with a second hand.

Using the bathroom . . . well, I won't go into detail, but wiping with my clumsy, nondominant hand was unpleasant.

Taking a shower, however was not nearly as bad as I expected. Caveat: I did not attempt to shave my legs.

Stripping out of my pajamas was easy, although getting the elastic waistband over my hips with only one hand required more attention than I had expected.

I had to pour an indeterminate amount of shampoo directly onto my head. I think shampooing and rinsing would be significantly more difficult if I had long hair, like my character does. She may decide to get a haircut. I left the shower puff hanging on the peg while I poured body wash onto it, then cleaned my body normally until I realized that with no right hand, I wouldn't be able to wash my left arm or armpit. I had a moment of panic and disgust.

Well, with some painful contortions, I was able to reach my left pit with my left hand. This would be impossible if I had any kind of injury on the left. Then I lay the puff on my thigh and rubbed my left arm all over it. Problem solved.

Toweling off was not so bad. Using my teeth to hold the corners, I was even able to fold the towel and put it neatly back on the towel bar.

I had to pull the deodorant cap off with my teeth. Yuck. As with the shower puff, I was able to reach my left pit with my left hand. I just had to hold the very end of the container with my fingertips and stretch in order to reach it.

Brushing my hair was easy. Making a nice, even part, not so much. I ended up using my fingers rather than the brush to adjust the part.

Next, I had to get dressed. Underwear was easy, as long as it was loose. Jeans were doable, as long as I pre-threaded the belt onto the loops. Buckling the belt was harder, but I managed. It was very time consuming, though.

Then came the bra. Fffffffuuuuuuuu . . .

With great effort and frustration, I managed to put on a zipper-front sports bra. My character lost her hand to mid-forearm, thus I allowed myself to hold the bra in place with my right elbow. This feat would have been impossible for someone who had lost an entire arm. I think a pullover sports bra with no fasteners to wrangle might work, but I didn’t have one to try.

The t-shirt was a piece of cake, although I think my love of loose clothes helped with that. A tight shirt would not have been so easy. Nor did I attempt buttons. I could tuck the shirt in as long as I pulled the pants on over the shirt, then fastened the pants.

Socks were easy, as were pull-on shoes. Forget laces, though.

Unplugging my cell phone from the charger and closing the little rubber door over the port was easy, except that, as with absolutely everything, it was slower and more awkward than usual.

Then I needed to take my allergy meds. To get the pills out of a foil-backed blister pack, I brought them to the kitchen, cut the foil with my fingernail, flipped the sheet over, and pushed the pills out onto the counter. No problem.

I needed an ibuprofen, too. This bottle opened easier than the cat's medicine. I just held the bottle in my hand and popped the lid off with my thumb. But then I tried to dump a pill out onto the counter. It bounced, then skittered across the hardwood floor all the way across the apartment, ending up under the couch.

Then it was time for breakfast. Undoing the twist-tie on a package of rolls was moderately challenging. Replacing it required extensive use of my teeth.

I could not for the life of me figure out how to slice the rolls with a knife without holding them with another hand. I just could not gain any purchase with the knife. I ended up roughly and messily tearing the rolls open with my fingers, pinning the more stubborn one down to the plate with my chin. Buttering the rolls was not pretty, but it was easy by comparison. I just had to press my right arm against the edge of the counter (my chest probably would have worked, too) to make a barrier to keep the tub of butter from sliding off the counter while I dug the knife through it. Likewise for the plate while I wiped the butter off the knife onto the rolls. ("Spreading" the butter would imply some measure of grace.)

Opening a too-tight cap on a bottle of juice had me holding the bottle between my chest and the edge of the kitchen counter while I used my hand to wrestle the cap off.

After breakfast, it was time to clean the litterbox and take out the trash. It was no trouble at all to scoop the litter clumps into the trash can. Pouring fresh litter into the box was no more trouble than pouring juice into a cup. The first real problem was tying off the trash bag. Fortunately, it was only about half full. So I held the gathered top edge in my hand and used my pinky to spin the bag until the empty top part was like a twisted rope. I set the bag on the floor and tied a simple knot in the "rope," then jerked up to let gravity tighten the knot.

Tearing a new trash bag off the roll was easier than I expected. Flapping the bag around until it opened up so I could line the trash can, less so.

Actually taking the trash out and returning to the apartment, through three doors (two of which require keys) was surprisingly no trouble at all.

Washing my hand was an adventure. I kind of squeezed the bar of soap between my fingers until I had some lather on my palm. I spread the lather onto the backs of my fingers with my thumb, but I could only reach to the second knuckle. I could lather the whole thumb with my fingers. The back of my hand was just out of the question, as was my wrist. I simply held my hand under running water to rinse it, then patted it dry against a hanging towel.

Reading a paperback book required laying it on my lap, with its spine in the groove between my clenched thighs, so I could hold it open and turn pages with one hand. I think that if I had to live this way permanently, I would buy an ebook reader, because it wouldn't need to be held open.

Writing yesterday's ATM withdrawal into my check register with my nondominant hand was hard, and I can barely read my handwriting, even though I wrote very slowly and carefully.

Typing was slow hunt-and-peck. Frustrating, but actually the very least of my challenges. I picked up speed and used more of my fingers as I got accustomed to it.

After three hours, the tape fell off on its own, so I brought my experiment to an end. My right hand was numb and swollen just from just those hours of disuse, and I had to flex my fingers quite a bit to get the blood moving. Lest you think I taped too tightly, I had only one strip of tape across my fingers and one holding my thumb to my palm. Neither wrapped all the way around, so they should not have cut off circulation.

The main thing I learned is that everyday activities, especially the ones that seem the most simple, need to be approached creatively. Sometimes you have to improvise and use different tools. I used the rest of my body--feet, thighs, chest, etc.--to brace or support things very often, and I used my mouth most of all as a substitute hand. Some things didn't taste good or feel comfortable on the teeth, especially the pull tab of the cat food can and the deodorant cap. And everything--even the easy things--took longer, often two to three times as long. The three hours I spent this morning would have been less than an hour if I had used both hands.

Now I need to think about how this would really affect my character's attitude long term. I put off some tasks, thinking they seemed impossible and I'd just do them later when I could use both hands. For my character, later is not an option. There is no end. Surely she'd get used to most daily tasks, and they'd become second nature and thus less stressful over time. But every new thing that came along, she'd have to do differently than someone with two hands. Every day would bring a raft of challenges. For everything I do, I'm going to try to think about how she might have to do it.

What sort of experiments have you done to get to know your characters? Have you tried anything unusual just to experience what it was like?

The Future of Publishing

2010-03-16T22:38:00.002-05:00

This video, produced by Dorling Kindersley Books for a DK sales conference, speaks for itself.

The first time I watched it, I had the sound off. I think it might even have been more powerful that way.

A Haiku About a Good Kitty

2010-03-11T05:14:00.000-06:00

Unbidden, he comes.
When I need comfort, this cat
Lies on me, purring.

Signs of Spring

2010-03-09T21:07:00.003-06:00

Now that the snow has melted, Mom's garden is starting to come back to life.

This black squirrel dropped by to raid the birdseed.

And the koi have emerged from hibernation.

Giving Up Junk for Lent

2010-02-17T17:11:00.001-06:00

Even though it's been a long time since I've attended church, I still see the value of observing Lent. During Lent, one should either abstain from something, especially something unhealthy, or one should take up a new good habit as a spiritual discipline. Lent is a good time to make an effort to improve your lifestyle.

Lately, I have felt crowded in my apartment. I feel burdened by too many possessions. Yet at the same time, I have trouble getting rid of things because when I have purged my belongings in the past, I have regretted getting rid of certain things, such as the two-foot-tall poseable Godzilla I had when I was a child, not to mention all of my Transformers. So I accumulate things and things and more things. And now I feel like I am drowning in stuff.

So for Lent, I have decided on a matched pair of disciplines.

Number 1. Although I may buy consumables and useful things, including clothing and books, I may not buy anything that has no purpose other than to sit on a shelf and look cool. No statues, stuffed animals, action figures, knick-knacks, ornaments, or anything else of that ilk.

Number 2. I must get rid of something every day. It doesn't matter whether it is large or small, whether it comes from a prominent display shelf or from the depths of the junk drawer, or whether I toss it in the trash or in a box to donate--at least one thing must leave my possession each day throughout Lent. If I purge several things on one day, it does not remove my obligation to get rid of at least one item the next day. The donation box can stay in my apartment, but I can not take anything back out of the box, and when the box is filled and sealed, it goes.

Looking forward to a less-cluttered apartment in forty days!

White Out on Highway 30

2010-02-14T18:26:00.001-06:00

Twisting curls of snow
Dance, roll, flow across the road.
Exquisite, deadly.

Will-o'-the-wisp glows
Headlights emerge from the snow
Like ghosts in the white.

Highway closed both ways.
Stranded travelers smile, shrug.
Gas station refuge.

Stone Butch Blues

2010-02-11T19:28:00.001-06:00

I just finished reading Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg, which is the February selection for my book club. The Omaha Public Library only had one copy, so I bought my own. I'm glad I did, because I can imagine wanting to read it again in ten years. This book stirred up my heart in more ways than I can count. Although it's fiction, it reads like an autobiography. You could approach it as a lesbian novel, or a transgender tale, or a gritty story about a blue-collar worker and sometime union organizer.

The main character was complex and layered, and she felt like a real person. She could be my neighbor, or the person in front of me at the grocery store. And she experiences all of the horrible things that human beings do to another--terrible abuses at the hands of police, coworkers, hospital staff, and strangers on the street. At times while I was reading, I was absolutely furious--not at the book, but at the world it portrayed--because I knew things like that really happened. (Sometimes they still happen. Maybe LGBTQIA people are able to live more openly than we used to, but society always finds someone new to focus the hate on. Right now in the US, it seems to be illegal immigrants.)

But the book isn't about cruelty. It's about not only surviving the abuses but (eventually) growing. All the things that happened to the main character forged her into a strong person. For all her deep wounds and through all her self-made armor, she remained able to love and to see beauty. The overarching theme of the book is learning to accept one's self, when one's self is unacceptable in the eyes of society.

As the author said in her afterword (for the 2003 edition), "Never underestimate the power of fiction to tell the truth."

I don't care who you are or what your life is like. Read this book.

Judith and the Ghost of Amanda MacIntosh

2010-01-16T13:44:00.006-06:00

The good folks at Crossed Genres have called upon authors to Post a Story for Haiti, to encourage people to donate to the relief effort. Authors are posting short stories for free. In return, we ask you, our readers, to please consider making a donation to a reputable relief organization, such as the International Red Cross/Red Crescent, Doctors Without Borders, or the Rainbow World Fund. Or pick any other organization you know and trust. The United Methodist Committee on Relief is one of my longtime favorites.

I wrote this ghost story back in the 1990s. I didn't have any stories related to earthquake or disaster relief, but I wanted to offer something to this fundraiser. I hope you don't think it too horribly inappropriate.

If you enjoy my story, or any of the stories contributed by other authors, please show your appreciation by helping with the Haiti earthquake relief efforts. Thank you, and peace be with you.

Judith and the Ghost of Amanda MacIntosh
by Angela Kroeger

Judith stood in the center of the basement living room, watching the late night news. The reporter peered intently from the television screen, announcing the latest information on the brutal murder of the beloved actress Amanda MacIntosh. A portrait photograph of Amanda flashed onto the screen, a handsome, angular face framed in loose, sandy curls. A witness had given a thorough description of the killer to the police, and Judith's throat constricted at sight of the next image on the screen, a rough charcoal drawing of her own face.

Samuel Palmer, standing behind her, leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear. "I can't believe you were stupid enough to leave a witness."

"I didn't know anyone was there. I checked the area beforehand, and it was clear. Whoever it was came in later and didn't make a sound," Judith hissed, terror burning the corners of her eyes.

Palmer folded his arms, then unfolded them to adjust his tie and smooth the wrinkles out of his suit jacket. "Careless anyway. And what's with the tears? It's a little late for second thoughts."

Judith turned away, and Palmer spoke in a low, restrained voice. "You'd better not be thinking of backing out on me. You're in all the way. If you leave, it'll be as fertilizer." With that, he left her alone in the dimly lit den. Judith turned off the television and shuddered as she felt a cold breeze cross her back. She turned around abruptly. There were no windows or fans in this room.

"Sucks to be you, don't it?" said a familiar voice.

Judith paled and looked about frantically. "Amanda?"

The shadows in the corner coalesced into the vague outline of a tall woman. "Who else?"

Judith backed away. "You're here to haunt me?"

"No." Amanda stepped from the shadows, taking form until every hair on her head, every stitch of her clothing, and every detail of the jagged hole in her chest was clearly defined in shades of luminescent green. The apparition approached a few steps then paused, furrowing her transparent brow. Her voice, smooth as polished onyx in life, crackled like a worn out recording. "Well, yes, actually, in a way. I need your help, and I won't leave you alone until you give it."

Judith shivered and clutched her chest. "Help? Why me? I killed you!"

Amanda glided close and gripped Judith's shoulders. Even through the thick sweatshirt Judith wore, the coldness of the ghost's hands was painful at first touch, then numbing as her grip tightened. "That's exactly why you. In fact, you're the only one who can help me."

"Why?" Judith struggled to break free, but couldn't.

Amanda held her gaze with disconcertingly white eyes, completely devoid of iris and pupil. "Pay attention. I can taste your regret, and more importantly, someone else can taste it. This is your chance at redemption. Remember, the Spirit's capacity for forgiveness is infinite, and you are worth many sparrows. Yes, even one such as you."

Judith blinked, and sagged into the shade's grasp. "What do I have to do?"

"First, you must never kill again."

Palmer came back into the room. "Who are you talking to?" he demanded sternly, his ice blue eyes locking onto the girl's face.

Judith looked at Amanda, then back to Palmer. "You don't see her?"

"Her who?" He scowled and shook his head, his slick black bangs falling down to brush the tops of his glasses. "Damn it, Judy. You had better not snap on me. Amanda is dead. If you can't handle it, you'd best just kill yourself now and save me the trouble of having to do it later. Otherwise, pull yourself together. We have work to do, and it has to be done tonight. I can't do it with my partner in pieces." He stormed back up the stairs.

"Cheerful sort," Amanda said sardonically. "He hasn't changed. Well, yes he has. He's degenerated. There is no remorse in him. A person can't change if they don't want to change. He is a dangerous, evil man, and the world must be cleansed of him."

"But you just said that I was never supposed to kill again."

"Let him take his own life to the Devil. All you have to do is keep Mallory Guinness alive until she's safe, out of Sam's reach. She is the business for this evening to which he alluded. Now, will you help me?"

Judith supposed she didn't have a choice. "How?"

Amanda released her hold on the girl. "Come with me. We haven't got much time."

"If I just walk out the door, Sam will see," Judith protested.

"Just relax." Amanda embraced Judith, and Judith tried to cry out, but her voice failed her. Her whole body went numb, and she felt as if she were drifting. She could still see the room before her, but the colors all seemed faded, like an old photograph. She could not move. Her body did not respond to any of her thoughts. Her mind screamed as she floated through the wall and into the earth on the other side. Then she felt herself rise, and soon she saw roots, then air and grass, and she was standing on the lawn in the back yard. Amanda released the girl, and Judith crumpled to her knees, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her throat was choked with dust. She coughed up mud.

"Get up. We need to get to Mallory."

Judith stopped whimpering and shakily hauled herself to her feet. "Where? How?"

"Drive."

"I don't have a car."

The ghost cocked an eyebrow. "Take Sam's."

"I don't have the keys."

Amanda shook her head. "Just lead me to his car."

Judith complied, and Amanda stuck her hand into the door. "Yet another sleek, slick little vehicle. He always picks these annoying tiny, studly sports cars. I hate them. I always did." Judith noticed the change in the spirit's tone of voice. Before, when she'd been speaking of the Spirit's capacity of forgiveness, she had sounded like she was running through a well-rehearsed speech. Now her manner was brusque and abrasive. But then, Amanda had always been temperamental and prone to being gracious one moment and irritable the next. Judith had noticed this early on, in the production of their first movie together. Of course, Amanda had been the star, and Judith had been the kid who brought the doughnuts and sandwiches. Judith snapped back to the present at the sound of the door popping open. The ghost stood aside and gestured grandly for Judith to take the driver's seat, which the girl did. Amanda passed through Judith to place herself in the passenger seat, then stuck her hand inside the steering column. "Sam taught me to hotwire cars. That was when we were teenagers. I grew out of that sort of thing. He didn't. He just grew into nastier, more concealable forms of it." With a little jerk, the car roared into life, and Judith pulled out onto the road.

Judith glanced sidelong at Amanda. "If someone recognizes me from the police sketch, I won't be able to do what you need me to."

"I'll worry about that if someone recognizes you."

"Why do you need me? You can obviously interact with things in this world. I mean, other than redeeming my soul or whatever, why do you need me? You seem pretty powerful as a ghost, even moreso than ghosts I've seen in movies and stuff. You should be able to protect Mallory yourself."

Amanda looked as if she would have sighed if she had lungs with which to do so. "This is necessary for both of us. This is to turn you away from the path of evil."

"And it's necessary for you because . . ."

"I can't protect her myself. I can only manipulate physical objects in this world if it directly influences you. Only you can see or hear or touch me. I have been bound to you until I can forgive you. I can't pass into whatever's waiting for me until I can let go of this." The luminescent green flared around the hole in Amanda's chest.

"Bound to me?"

"Eyes on the road. You're no use if you die before Mallory's safe."

Judith focused on her driving, glowering.

"Why are you angry? I'm the one who should be angry. I'm the one who's dead!" Amanda screeched.

Judith slammed on the brakes and pounded her hands on the steering wheel. "You think I'm not angry? You think I don't hate myself enough without you here to constantly remind me of what I did?" Her eyes fell to the glowing wound. "I saw that version of Macbeth you were in. That whole 'Out, damn'd spot' thing, that's how I've felt since--"

"You know what I've felt since then?" Amanda interrupted, her white eyes blazing, "Nothing! Nothing but cold and hate and anger. He told me I had to come back, that I had business I needed to finish. I thought He meant I was supposed to bring you to justice. I thought I was going to get to bring your death. No, He told me I'm supposed to give you back your life. It's not fair. You murdered me, and I'm supposed to keep you from going to Hell for it." The ghost flashed green, then vanished.

Judith waited for a few moments, then tentatively asked, "Amanda? Are you still here?" She waited a couple of minutes longer, then muttered, "Good riddance." She turned the car around and returned to Samuel Palmer's house.

The doors were all locked, and she did not have her keys. She went to the back porch and dug around underneath the steps for the spare. Inside, she pocketed the dirty key and walked to the foot of the staircase. The music from upstairs was loud. Judith swallowed hard, hoping that Palmer had not noticed her absence. She slowly climbed the steps, then crept down the hallway until she reached Palmer's study. Even with the volume of the stereo, she could hear his fingers beating on the keyboard of his computer. She pushed the partially open door wider and stuck her head in. "Sam?"

He looked up from the screen, his face a visage of malice. He took a deep breath then smiled at her. The smile could have fooled anyone except her, and perhaps Amanda. "Judy, are you feeling more yourself now? We have to leave soon."

Judith nodded stiffly.

Palmer left his computer to embrace her, stroking her hair with his finely sculpted hands. "I didn't mean what I said earlier about killing you . . . or you killing yourself. I was just upset. You have to know I love you, and I wouldn't do anything like that to you."

Judith nodded, "Yeah, I know." She realized he'd never loved her, not even at the beginning. He'd just needed a disposable nobody to do his dirty work.

He narrowed his eyes at her for the briefest of moments, then replaced the plastic mask and kissed her. "You're tired. Go rest for a little bit. It may take me a little while to pinpoint Miss Guinness's exact whereabouts. She's gone to great lengths to keep her address and phone number unlisted. I'm almost certain she's the witness. I can't imagine who else would have been at Amanda's house at that time of night. But like I said, this'll take me a bit, so why don't you go take a nap, and I'll wake you when it's time to go." He had said Mallory's name with a sneer, but otherwise maintained the sweet tone throughout his speech.

Judith nodded, then retreated to the bedroom. She could not sleep, instead laying in the dark, looking at the amorphous pattern cast onto the wall by streetlight filtering through the blinds. She watched the clock count off the time until 2:37 am, when Palmer entered the room and flicked on the overhead light.

"Is it time to go?" she asked sleepily, hoping he would believe she still trusted him enough to sleep in his bed.

"Yes, Judy. I have the information we need. We should do this tonight. I doubt Mallory's put two and two together yet, but I can't imagine it will take her much longer. And when she figures it out, she'll take it to the police or, worse, the reporters, and then, well, we just can't have that, now, can we?"

Judith wondered at the two and two reference. Mallory, and apparently the witness if it was someone other than Mallory, did not know Judith. However, the charcoal sketch would be enough for someone to ID her. And the fact that Judith was all but living with Amanda MacIntosh's ex-husband would very likely incriminate him. However, something in his tone indicated that this was not the two and two to which he had alluded. She kept her voice demure, "No, we can't." Judith had never hated Palmer so much before, and she fought hard to keep it out of her voice.

"Well, get up, girl. We have to go."

Judith's mind reeled. She would not commit another murder for this man. This conviction did not come from anything the ghost had said, but rather from Judith's own disgust with Palmer and with what he had helped her become. But she did not know what to do. She knew only that she needed to delay him, so she could try to warn Mallory Guinness. Smiling seductively, stretched and twisted her body in the way she knew he liked. "Can't even spare fifteen minutes? It might de-stress me. I'll do a better job if I'm not so nervous."

"It'll already be after three when we get there. I don't want to risk pushing it too close to sunrise."

"Ten minutes? Please?" She stood and approached him. She knew exactly what voice to use to arouse him. She knew exactly what moves to make, and she pressed her body close to his.

It worked. "Ten minutes. Then we go." He pushed her down into the bed and unfastened his pants. When his eyes were off of her, Judith grabbed the heavy, brass alarm clock and smashed it against his skull. He slumped off the edge of the bed and onto the floor, unmoving.

Judith replaced the clock onto the endtable, noting the fresh crack across the crystal face. "Ugly clock anyway." Then remembering what the ghost had said, she stooped to feel for Palmer's pulse. He was alive. She grabbed the map and floorplan printouts from the dresser, then ran to his study. His computer was on screen saver, with a password lock. She tried the password he'd given to her, but he'd changed it. "I don't have time for this." She opened the window and pulled in the screen. She unplugged all of the cables from the computer. The monitor flashed, "No input," and she smashed the screen on the corner of the desk so he couldn't use it. Then she hurled the computer through the window, enjoying to the satisfying crash as it went though the windshield of his little car.

She ran down the stairs, slipped on her leather bomber jacket, then grabbed pair of shears from the utility drawer by the phone. Going out through the front door, she looked around furtively. No one appeared to be watching, so she stabbed the scissors into the whitewalls of Palmer's precious car, one by one, just in case a broken windshield alone wasn't enough to stop him from driving.

Unchaining her bicycle from the porch's support post, she took off in the direction indicated by the map. The place was not far from the campus where she had until recently attended school. When she reached an empty, lonely park, she stopped just long enough to cut away her long curls of umber hair and her feathered bangs, so distinctive in the charcoal sketch. She used her bicycle's tiny rear-view mirror to guide her, and when satisfied that everything as even as she could make it with the light of a single streetlamp and scissors designed to cut paper, she threw the scissors and the larger clumps of hair into the sewer drain. Then she took her sunglasses from her jacket's inner pocket and knocked out the lenses. She tossed the lenses after the scissors, then put the empty wire frames on her face. Unless someone got close enough to notice that there was no glass, the glasses might help prevent people from immediately connecting her to the police sketch.

She checked the map again, then hopped back on her bicycle and surged onward to Mallory Guinness's unlisted residence. She was within three-quarters of a mile from the house when she saw the beam of light from an upcoming streetlamp take on a greenish cast and point to the right. Judith banked right at that intersection, running the stop sign and slowing her pace no more than necessary to keep from crashing. The green glare swooped beside her. "There were police ahead. We'll have to take another way."

"How long have you been back?" Judith asked, both irritated and relieved.

"Just now. What happened while I was gone?" Amanda took shape from the green mist and put one hand on Judith's shoulder. It didn't feel as uncomfortably cold as before.

"Sam was getting ready to strike. He wasn't going to send me alone this time. I guess he doesn't trust me anymore. Well, now he really doesn't. I took his printout with Mallory's address and floorplans."

Amanda was still worried. "Can't he just print it again?"

"Nah, I trashed his computer, and his little car, too."

Amanda smiled wistfully, "I wish I'd seen that. That was something I always wanted to do myself."

Judith slowed a little, so she could speak softly and still be heard. "So what's the deal? Sam always told me you left him for Mallory. What does she know that can hurt him?"

Amanda looked pained. "She rescued me from him. He was a bad publicist, a worse husband, and he was destroying me slowly in so many different ways. I met Mallory when we were doing Rhubarb Pi together. That was a movie I'd love to forget I had any part of, but at least some good came of it. Mallory and I became good friends, and when she got to know me better, she began to voice her concerns about my lifestyle. She directed me to a good therapist, but more importantly, she helped me find the desire to change and get well. You have to want it for it to work, not that wanting it makes it easy. Changing myself was the hardest thing I ever did.

"Getting well also required leaving Sam, who had no desire to change and no desire to allow me to change. That didn't fit into his plan. So I divorced him and threw him out of my house. After that, I was finally able to get a life."

Judith glanced over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at the bitter irony of that statement. Amanda looked very sad, and Judith spoke with a gentleness that surprised herself. "And Mallory?"

"I was never involved with her that way, although Sam believed differently. He never could accept that I'd left because of him. I didn't realize I had fallen in love with Mallory until long after I parted company with Sam. I never told her how I felt."

Judith glanced sidelong at the ghost. "I, ah, meant, what does Mallory know that makes Sam want to kill her? Does she know what you knew? He told me that you had evidence to connect him to . . . something. He didn't say what."

"No, he never says what." After a long pause, the ghost's demeanor changed sharply. "Stop here. You'll have to walk the rest of the way, off the roads and sidewalks."

Judith chained her bike to a lamppost, then followed Amanda across the campus green. Amanda said, "You don't seem to know what Sam did. Truthfully, neither do I. But in hindsight, I remember back when there was a bit of a flap on the news about seven years ago, about an undercover cop who was killed while investigating an embezzlement case. Sam watched the news every day. I guess that wasn't unusual in and of itself, but there was something about the intensity with which he followed the case. I forgot about it until after I threw Sam out of my house, when I found a stash of his stuff under the stairs. I don't mean stuff like drugs or guns or anything. I mean pants he couldn't fit into anymore and ugly shirts that used to be in style in one of our country's more tasteless decades. But with all that stuff was an envelope with newspaper clippings about the cop's death and his obituary."

"So you think Sam killed him?" Judith asked.

The ghost shrugged. "I can't imagine why else he'd have cut the stuff out of the paper. I always wondered how he got all his money. The actors he publicized, myself included, paid him well, but not that well."

"And Mallory knows about this?"

"Maybe. She was helping me clean out the stairwell. I didn't realize the significance of the clippings at first and threw them away. Then she and I went to dump all his ugly old clothes on his lawn. I realize now how stupid that was. It gave him a chance to remember what else he'd stuffed down there. Anyway, I dug the clippings out of the trash later, and I left them at Mallory's house. That was also stupid of me." Amanda frowned. "Even if God forgives me, if something happens to Mallory, I don't know that I'll be able to forgive myself."

Judith sighed, feeling very cold in the pit of her stomach. The guilt of her deed, spiced with hatred and anger toward Palmer and toward herself, felt tangible, like a charred crust lining the inside of her chest. Her voice quavered, "Okay. I understand now. Man, I knew he was a sleaze, but his was a rich and handsome sleaze, you know. I never thought he was into killing people." She looked uncomfortably at Amanda's chest and gestured lamely, "Until he convinced me to . . . uh . . ." She gulped and looked as if she wanted to blow away with the leaves.

Amanda faded slightly. "Why did you listen to him? I would have almost expected this from him directly. But you were a nice kid. You were always good about making sure I got my Bavarian cream roll every day."

Judith hung her head and walked on in silence.

Several blocks later, they stopped in front of a security gate. Judith hit the buzzer. When she got no response, she buzzed again. After the fifth buzz, she grew alarmed. Finally, a sleepy voice came over the intercom. "If you're not the most handsome man on the planet, I'm releasing the Dobermans."

Amanda smiled. Judith spoke up, "Ms. Guinness, I need to speak to you. It's very important and can't wait. It's about Amanda MacIntosh."

The voice, very serious now, murmured, "So speak."

"No, let me in. You're in danger." Judith pleaded.

"From you?"

"No! I'm . . ." Judith stopped short at the ghost's touch.

Amanda smiled faintly. "Ask her if she has any guacamole to go with the rhubarb pie."

Judith grimaced and whispered, "That's completely disgusting."

"It refers to an off camera incident between her and me. It's our password."

Warily, Judith asked, "Uh, do you have any guacamole for the rhubarb pie?"

Silence from the other end was followed by the electronic hum of the gate sliding open. Judith and the ghost approached the house and waited on the stoop. A trim redhead opened the door to allow Judith's entry. Judith could almost feel Amanda's sadness at her inability to communicate directly with her friend.

Closing the door, Mallory asked grimly, "How did you know about that?"

Judith swallowed hard, noticing that Mallory held one hand behind her back. "Amanda told me."

Mallory ground her teeth together and stared hard into the young woman's eyes. Suddenly, she gasped and stepped back. "You!" She swung the gun she'd held behind her around and trained it on Judith's face. "Are you here to kill me, too?"

Judith raised her hands to show that she was unarmed. "I'm here to stop someone else from killing you."

Mallory's hands shook with rage, and the gun wavered about. "Is that what you told her?"

"No. I didn't talk to her at all."

Mallory blanched, almost dropping the gun. She tried to speak but found herself unable to produce even a whisper. She gripped the gun with both hands and tried to steady her aim.

Judith continued haltingly, perspiration forming on her face and hands, "It was Sam Palmer who sent me to . . . to kill her. He wants you dead, too, but I won't help him again. I came to warn you that he is coming. Tonight. Call the police."

Mallory edged toward the phone, the gun shaking wildly.

Judith took a deep breath. "The newspaper clippings you and Amanda found in Sam's stuff, the ones Amanda left here with you--make sure you tell the police about those. Sam killed that cop. You need to make sure he goes to jail."

"What about you?" Mallory managed to choke.

"Call the police, already. Get them on their way here. I'll confess. I'll face up to what I did. My life isn't worth jack now anyway."

Amanda swooped over to Judith's side, flickering with agitation. "He's here!"

Judith whispered, "Where?"

"What?" Mallory demanded.

Amanda said, "He came in through the basement window. He's already upstairs. In the next room." She pointed behind Mallory.

"Sam's here! Get down!" Judith hissed.

Mallory did not budge. "I don't believe you."

"He's behind you, in the other room. Turn around!"

Mallory remained rooted in place and steadied her hands. Amanda floated beside her, putting her hand inside the gun. She looked at Judith pleadingly.

Judith charged forward, and Mallory pulled the trigger. The gun didn't fire. She pulled again, click click click. Judith ran past her into the next room. Palmer was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" He must have heard her warn Mallory and gone around through another part of the house. The ghost swooped away, searching behind and beneath every piece of furniture, then glided through the wall. Judith ran back to Mallory.

Mallory pointed the gun impotently at the young woman, but did not pull the trigger again. Ignoring the weapon, Judith positioned herself right by the actress's side. Judith picked up the phone and dialed 911. "My name is Judith Stauski. I murdered Amanda MacIntosh. My partner Samuel Palmer and I are at the residence of Mallory Guinness. Why don't you see if you can make it here in time to save her." She gave the address, then hung up. She glanced at Mallory and shrugged. "You obviously weren't going to call them."

Palmer stepped into the room and trained his handgun on Judith. "Mallory, I'm so glad I got here in time. When I saw the police sketch on television, I was shocked. I was worried that she would come for you."

Mallory looked back and forth between the two, brow furrowed. "How did you get in here, Sam?"

"You and Amanda were so close, it was obvious that you would have been the witness. I knew she'd come for you."

"How was it obvious? Amanda had a lot of friends," Mallory asked suspiciously.

Palmer locked his eyes on Judith. "Judy, move away from Ms. Guinness."

Judith placed herself squarely in front of Mallory. "No, Sam. I won't let you use me anymore."

"Mallory, she's trying to trick you, trying to get you to trust her. Don't believe her. You saw what she did to Amanda. She's just trying to get you to lower your guard," Sam said in a low, tightly controlled voice.

Judith chilled as she felt the end of Mallory's gun pressing into the small of her back. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes, she whispered, "Go ahead. I am guilty. But so is he. Protect yourself from him at all costs."

"What was that?" Palmer advanced slowly.

"He's here to kill you. Make no mistake," Judith said forcefully.

Sirens wailed faintly in the distance. Palmer shifted his stance, sweat dripping from his face. Judith remained like a stone. "They're coming to stop you, Sam."

"They're coming for you, Judy." His trigger finger contracted.

Judith kicked hard behind her, and Mallory toppled just as Sam fired. The bullet blasted through Judith's chest and out the other side. It would have pierced them both. Mallory crawled on her belly, keeping the couch between her and Palmer. The sirens drew closer. Palmer ran around the sofa and aimed the handgun at Mallory. Looking up through darkening eyes, Judith finally noticed his gloves. His fingerprints would not be found on the weapon or anything else. He grinned wickedly at Mallory. "The police will find that you and she shot each other. I'll be long gone."

Judith felt a simultaneous chill and warmth as Amanda slipped inside her. The ghost's power held Judith's body together, lending her strength. Judith slithered toward Palmer and flung her arms around his ankles. Startled, he looked down at her. Mallory used the distraction to scramble to her security controls, unlocking the driveway gate before fleeing into the yard. Palmer tried to pursue her, but Judith tightened her grip on his legs. With her chin, she pushed up his pantleg, then sank her teeth into his Achilles tendon.

Spitting curses, he aimed downward and pulled the trigger. Judith twisted her neck, and the bullet burned across her cheek and separated Palmer from one of his own toes.

Howling in pain, he kicked free of Judith, sending her spinning across the floor into the telephone stand. He limped out the door. Judith crawled after him, getting close enough to the open door to view the predawn lawnscape. No sign of Mallory. Only Palmer and three cars' worth of police officers fanning out and taking cover, hopping progressively closer to the house.

Mallory peeked up from behind one of the police cars. Palmer, apparently losing his last strand of rational thought, opened fire. The police returned the favor, and within seconds, Samuel Palmer lay dead in a dark red smear on the stoop of Mallory Guinness.

* * *

Numb from shock, Mallory was only dimly aware of the paramedics swarming over the downed police officer. She stepped across the bloody stoop to the doorway, where still more paramedics hovered over Judith, holding her down as she flailed about, screaming her confession to the murder of Amanda MacIntosh and something about justice. She pleaded with the paramedics not to save her, to let her die for her crime. Mallory tried to step closer, but a police officer caught her arm, holding her back.

As if aware of Mallory's presence, Judith's glazed eyes suddenly cleared and her body stopped thrashing. Calm and serious, she locked gazes with the actress. "Mallory . . . listen . . . Amanda . . . Amanda wants to . . . tell . . . you . . ." She fell silent for a moment as she caught her breath. "She . . . loves . . . you."

Mallory noticed the use of present tense and sagged against the wall. Tears fogged her vision. "Is she . . . here?"

Judith's gaze dulled, and her body fell limp. The paramedics attempted to revive her, but soon surrendered to the obvious.

Mallory slid down the wall, her face buried in her hands, tears running through the gaps between her fingers.

* * *

Judith looked down on her body. Strangely, she did not at all miss the sensation of being inside it. She placed one hand on Mallory's shoulder, then drew back when the actress shuddered, as if from a freezing wind.

Judith then walked out through the wall into the early morning light. She looked to the east, at the pink sky spangled with clouds of gilded fire. In moments, the sun would banish the last remnants of the night. Judith fully expected a demon to snatch her and pull her down through the layers of earth into Hell. Either that or the first rays of dawn would burn away her soul, leaving nothing.

Instead, she felt a presence by her side, other than the police officers who milled about, oblivious to her ghostly existence. She turned to Amanda, who also looked toward the bright horizon. The wound in Amanda's chest was gone. Curious, Judith looked down at herself and saw no trace of the injury that had ended her life.

Amanda smiled gently. "You have mended your spirit, in saving Mallory. You are already whole." She gestured to her own chest. "And you helped me mend myself. I have forgiven you and let go of this world." She held out her hand, very transparent in the growing light.

Smiling nervously, Judith took Amanda's hand. Warmth flowed between them. Judith had never felt so good in her life. She smirked to herself at that thought.

"What happens now?" Judith asked.

Amanda shrugged, almost giddy. "I have no idea."

The sun broke the horizon, and the two spirits faded away.

Frost Needles

2010-01-15T17:18:00.005-06:00

This morning, the freezing fog created some of the most amazing and beautiful frost I've ever seen, like slender white needles. It didn't last long. I took these photos on my morning break, around 10 am, and by lunchtime everything was already melting away.

Sunbow

2010-01-07T15:55:00.003-06:00

There's a sunbow today! That's twice already this year! (The first was on New Year's Day.) Lucky!

The pictures don't do it justice.

A Walk Around UNO Campus

2010-01-06T17:28:00.005-06:00

I got a new camera for Christmas, so I've been taking some test pictures to get used to it. These are from Monday, when it was bright and sunny. They look so much better than the gloomy view from the window now, where yet another snowstorm buries us all over again.

This is my favorite tree on campus. It looks like a clawed hand reaching for the sky.

This is the Castle of Perseverance, a little amphitheater near the Fine Arts building. Sometimes in nice weather, classes meet there, and occasionally they even put on plays. The serpent holds the Face of Life in one mouth and the Face of Death in the other.

This is "The Song" by Catherine Ferguson. I love the little brass bird on top of it. Right now, only his head peeps out of the snow.

Parasite Eve VS Parasite Eve 2

2009-12-31T21:53:00.003-06:00

Back in 1999, I was deeply engrossed in Parasite Eve, a rather awesome horror video game. After you complete the game, you can start over in "EX game" mode ("EX" for "extra" or "excruciating" or "exhausting" or whatever you want to call it), which unlocks the Chrysler Building, a 77-floor dungeon of tedium and terror. Completing the Chrysler Building earns you an alternate ending, plus bragging rights with your gamer friends.

I was up to about floor 40 or 50 of the Chrysler Building when my apartment complex burned down. I lost my PlayStation memory card. I liked Parasite Eve enough to buy a new copy, but I was so heartbroken at losing all of that hard work that I never tackled the Chrysler Building again.

Flash forward to 2009. My nephews are really into Pokémon, and they wanted to collect every Pokémon game ever made, yes, even the really old GameBoy Color ones. So for their birthday and Christmas presents, I hunted many a used game store, tracking down the five games they were missing. It was an extensive fetch quest, but not one I could imagine anyone else in my family tackling. Nerd that I am, I loved every minute of it.

During the course of Pokémon Quest, I came across a copy of Parasite Eve 2, which came out in 2000, but which I'd never actually played. Of course, I bought it. And played it obsessively for a month or so. After tiring of multiple runs through PE2, I decided it was time to revisit PE1. After all, it was the season of Christmas, and the game is set during Christmas 1997, so somehow it seemed appropriate. (Well, as appropriate as horror and monsters can be for the holidays.) I conquered the Chrysler Building yesterday, and finally saw that alternate ending. Yay! I feel that I have achieved closure.

But which game do I like better? I really cannot decide. Despite the same title and same lead character, they are really very different games, and both have strengths and weaknesses. Let's see which one wins . . .

ADVANTAGE: Parasite Eve (the first)

1) The monsters are much, much cooler looking in the first game. The creatures in PE2 consistently look stupid. I mean all of them. It was like the design team decided to go for the opposite of the PE1 aesthetic, which was an unfortunate choice.

2) Aya's costume in the first game is much better. She can be excused for fighting monsters in an evening gown during the first chapter, since she was at the opera when catastrophe struck. After that, her attire consisted of jeans, t-shirt, and a black leather jacket--not only practical, but also quite attractive on her. While she starts PE2 with a similar costume, as soon as she leaves for the desert, she dons a miniskirt and pink cowboy boots, and wears them for the rest of the game. Really? Who wears a miniskirt when hunting monsters? And there is simply no excuse for those boots. None.

3) The first game is much more generous with inventory space. You gain inventory space automatically as you level up, and if that's not enough, you can spend bonus points to add more. In PE2, your inventory space is fixed. So by the end of the game when you've got one of each class of weapon, and at least one type of ammo for each, and all of the special charms and helpful items, you've probably only got about two spaces left for restorative items. It makes the later parts of the game especially difficult, because you are essentially out of space all the time.

4) In the original Parasite Eve, if you follow the plot as it's laid out for you, you get to the ending without incident. You can easily see the optional areas, like the warehouse and the Chrysler Building, so you know that they exist if you choose to pursue them. In PE2, if you follow the plot as it's laid out, you get the bad ending. To get the good ending, you need to save Pierce--twice--even though the game gives you absolutely no hints that he's in any danger, nor even that he's followed you into the desert. And the steps you need to take to save him are completely counterintuitive. I would never, ever have figured it out if not for the walkthroughs on GameFAQs. Heck, I would never have even known he needed saving if I hadn't read it on GameFAQs. After I learned about Pierce, I literally started the game over because I'd already passed the point where I could save him. I was on disc 2 when I realized I needed to start over.

5) The camera angles and screen layouts of the first game are such that you can always see what you're fighting. In the second game, your enemies are often attacking you from off screen and you can't see where you're aiming your weapon. Getting into a position where you can actually see your enemies often takes so long that you've taken several hits in the meantime. This makes some battles very frustrating.

6) The puzzles in PE2 are really, really irritating. Some of them aren't too bad, but the one to get the safe combination is completely ridiculous. (Counting the toilets and mirrors in the hotel? Who thought that would be fun? Do they assume all gamers have OCD?) Thank goodness such pointless, frustrating timewasters are absent from the first game. The most difficult puzzle in PE1 involves pushing some machinery out of the way to expose a giant red button on the wall. Fortunately, there is a giant red arrow painted on the wall, pointing to the machine that needs to be pushed out of the way. There's never much standing between you and some good, old-fashioned monster killing.

ADVANTAGE: Parasite Eve 2

1) Parasite powers are much more versatile and easy to use. In PE1, you learn them in a set order as you level up. In PE2, you buy them with PE points, so you can decide whether you want to sink all of your points into pyro powers or healing or whatever you like. There are several useful and valuable attack powers, unlike PE1, where you have only two offensive powers, both of which use up all of your energy and leave you vulnerable to attack afterward. In PE2, Pyrokinesis is a powerful attack that uses very little energy, giving you a viable alternative to simply shooting everything. Plasma is another great power, giving you a nice little area-effect attack for when you're surrounded by bats or bugs. PE1 never had an area-effect attack (except for shotguns with the "burst" effect), but man, an area-effect parasite attack would have been handy for all those birds in Central Park.

2) Charms, which are completely useless inventory clutter in the first game, are so incredibly valuable in Parasite Eve 2 that you wouldn't dare put them into storage. No matter how tight inventory space is, the Ofuda and its ilk are worth having on you. Just remember to attach them to your armor.

3) You don't really level up in PE2. You get better weapons and armor, and your parasite powers grow stronger, but you yourself are not significantly tougher. That means, when you visit earlier areas that you'd previously cleared, but which are once again full of monsters, said monsters are still challenging. You never reach the point where you're too tough for the enemies, and so the game stays in balance.

4) PE2 has built-in maps. All turned around and not sure which rooms you've cleared? Hit a button and check the map. In PE1, I would have killed for that functionality, especially in convoluted places like Central Park, the sewers, and the Chrysler Building (especially with the Chrysler Building, where the floorplans change every single time you visit). The maps in PE2 not only show you which rooms you've visited, but they even show you which rooms have monsters for you to fight. Gotta love that.

Six of one, half a dozen of the other

In PE1, you get to tune up your weapons and armor, giving you the opportunity to customize up the wazoo and build whatever you like. It's a lot of work, and very time consuming, but it can also be very rewarding. In PE2, the weapons are as they are, what you see is what you get. The only customization you can do is with one particular rifle, which can be fitted with any of five special attachments. If you like tricking out your gear, PE1 wins hands down. If you just want to pick up a weapon and shoot, then PE2 is the game for you.

Ammo is where PE2 customizes things. In PE1, ammo is ammo, with the exceptions of rockets and Maeda's special rounds. Otherwise, standard ammo works in all pistols, rifles, shotguns, machine guns, etc. In PE2, however, not only does each class of weapon have separate ammo, but also there are several different kinds of rounds for each class of weapon. This makes more sense and better mirrors real life. However, if you're carrying a pistol, a shotgun, a rifle, and a grenade launcher, you might have three types of pistol ammo, three types of shotgun shells, mercifully only one type of rifle round, and three types of grenades. Do you think you have any inventory slots left for healing items? But you don't want to leave any of those weapons behind, because different weapons work better for different types of monsters. I may be partial to the shotgun, but I wouldn't want to be down in the depths of the shelter without a rifle, either. And for certain boss fights, if you don't have a grenade launcher, you are quite simply screwed.

Inconsistencies

In PE1, Aya has no problem looting a pharmacy and a gun shop in Soho, yet in PE2, she's scrupulous about leaving cash by the register when she takes medicine from the derelict general store. And later on she bawls Kyle out for stealing drinks from the abandoned bar. When did she have this moral awakening?

In PE2, when Aya tells her boss that she encountered a NMC as big as an elephant, he says that there was nothing like that in New York. Um . . . forget about the T-Rex, did we? What about the centipede that was as big as a subway car? The colossal earthworms in Central Park? Or that giant walking blob of goo that was as tall as the Statue of Liberty? And some of those rats in the upper stories of the Chrysler Building were at least rhino sized. Face it, New York was full of really huge monsters. It wasn't all snakes and crows.

Plot issues

In PE1, it made sense for Aya to be fighting the mitochondrial mutants alone, since any other person who got anywhere near Eve either burst into flames or melted into slime. However, in PE2, the NMCs (Neo-Mitochondrial Creatures) do not cause this effect, and the FBI has a whole unit of ordinary humans devoted to fighting them. So why is Aya always alone, even though she repeatedly calls for backup? The only real reason is to facilitate solo gameplay. However, in this case, gameplay comes at the expense of plot. (To be fair, PE2 is not the only game with this problem. With Resident Evil 4, I always wondered why only one solitary Secret Service agent was sent to rescue the President's kidnapped daughter.)

In some ways, PE2 seems less like the sequel to PE1 and more like the unholy union of Resident Evil and Jurassic Park. (Oh yeah, as soon as Aya set foot in the Ark, the Jurassic Park theme song started playing in my head.) I even started calling it "Parasite Evil," first by accident, and later by intention.

When I saw the movie Parasite Eve, years after playing the first game, I thought that the plot seemed completely unrelated to the game. (Of course, it was based on the novel. Allegedly, so was the game, but much more loosely.) Upon replaying the first game, I've realized that the events in the movie (and thus the novel) are actually described in the first game, when Maeda talks about the incident in Japan. So it's nice to see they really are connected.

And if you watched Episodes I-III of Star Wars and thought George Lucas pulled that whole midichlorian thing out of his butt, might I point out the similarity between the words midichlorian and mitochondria. Mutant mitochondria give people amazing super powers? High midichlorian count determines who is strong with the Force? I think Lucas played Parasite Eve.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure that Daniel (PE1) is secretly Superman. He and Maeda jump from a second-story window in the museum, yet show up mysteriously unharmed later that same evening. (This does not imply that Maeda has any special powers. Clearly, Daniel saved him.) Then later, Daniel leaps from a helicopter, bursts into flames, and then slams into the ocean. Either the fire or the impact should have been sufficient to kill any mortal. And the fact that he ignited proves that he was inside the radius of the enemy's power, where no one could possibly rescue him, except Aya, who was far too busy fighting the Ultimate Being at the time. So even if he survived the fall, he would still have been adrift in the ocean at night with no hope of rescue. And yet . . . when Aya finishes the final battle and returns to shore, there he is, standing on the pier waiting for her, whole and well. His clothes aren't even singed. The only conclusion is that Daniel is an invulnerable superhuman. Too bad he couldn't have given some of that amazing survival power to Pierce (PE2), who seemed to be made of tissue paper.

Conclusion

Well, I ended up with six points in Parasite Eve's favor, compared with only four in Parasite Eve 2's favor, with other factors being toss-ups. I think overall, Parasite Eve is the better game. But really, both games hold up remarkably well for their vintage, and both are grand fun to play.

Now I'm all hyped up for The 3rd Birthday (aka Parasite Eve 3), which is slated for release sometime in 2010. Looking forward to seeing more of Aya, no matter how ludicrous her adventures become.

Snowed In

2009-12-26T14:40:00.005-06:00

Still snowed in, of course. The roads that have been plowed are passable, if you can get to them. My alley has not been plowed, and car after car has gotten stuck. This morning, it took one of my neighbors over three and a half hours to dig out his car--back and forth, back and forth, shoveling around the wheels and laying down cardboard for traction.

Right now, there's another car abandoned in the alley, blocking the throughway. Yesterday, there was a different car abandoned at the other end of the alley for most of the afternoon. So even if a plow comes, they won't be able to get through.

The wheel ruts you see are from a huge 4x4 pickup, the only vehicle that has successfully made it through the alley. There's no point in digging out my car until the way is passable. Once I see cars similar to mine moving through without getting trapped, then I'll head out with my new shovel and unbury my car.

I've had to cancel out of Saturday and Sunday holiday gatherings (one of which had been rescheduled from Christmas Eve as it was). Fortunately, however, I'm on vacation, I have plenty of food, and my electricity and heat are operational. As being snowed in goes, the circumstances are nearly ideal for me. I can relax and enjoy my cats.

Hope you all are safe and warm, wherever you are.

Addendum, 6:00 pm: Not long after I posted the photos, a plow did come though the alley, just up to where the car was stuck. So I just got in from two hours of digging out my car. Now I at least have the option of going out tomorrow. Whew!

White Christmas

2009-12-25T07:33:00.004-06:00

I'm snowed in. This was the view from the front door of my apartment complex, before I broke through the sea of white with my footprints. The streets had not been plowed, nor were there any tracks. Not even the folks with big SUVs are attempting to go anywhere.

Why go out at all? It's my habit to take out the trash every morning immediately after scooping the litterbox. Plus, I just wanted to experience the snow instead of looking at it from my window. And, since I'm planning on staying home today, I can enjoy the snow, knowing that I don't have to drive in it. I'll dig my car out tomorrow, or whenever the snow stops.

The sidewalk, which had been completely clear with foot-high banks of old snow on either side, had been totally filled in. It was impossible to tell where the old snow ended and the new drifts began. I only had a dozen or so steps to reach the dumpster. I pretty much slid down the stairs to the sidewalk, because I couldn't find any of the steps underneath the snowy slope. On the sidewalk, the snow was almost up to my knees.

As you can see in the picture, it's still coming down pretty thick. (Yes, those white specks in the darkness are snowflakes reflecting the camera's flash.) I bet my deep footprints will be filled in before long. I wonder how much we'll get by the time it's finished. It's rather amazing.

I don't mind staying home for Christmas. I'm not really alone, since I've got my cats, the phone, and the internet. Everyone, stay safe. Merry Christmas and Peace Be With You!

Wood Duck

2009-12-24T12:40:00.002-06:00

My dad requested a wood duck for Christmas. I normally sculpt with colored clay (a mix of Fimo, Promat, Sculpy, Granitex, and whatever else I have on hand), but I thought that with a wood duck, by the time I got all those intricate markings done, the duck would end up being rather lumpy and misshapen. So I tried something new. I sculpted the duck entirely out of white, and then colored it with Sharpie markers. I used black paint and a tiny brush to get into the crevices too deep for the thick nub of a Sharpie to reach. (The back of the neck and under the wingtips.) I would have just painted the duck outright, except I don't have the right colors on hand, and I wasn't about to go out.

It is rather difficult to blend Sharpie, but it can be done by going over the same spot with the two colors you want repeatedly, until there are so many layers that they stay slightly damp for a few seconds. Then you can kind of push them around a little.

I was afraid that error correction would be impossible with Sharpie, but then when I made an error, I got desperate. Yes, you can fix it with a knife, by scraping off the ink and a little of the underlying clay. The scratches roughen up the surface of the clay, though, so I only did this where I needed to restore a white area. I let my other errors stand.

His eyes are a little too big, but overall I'm pleased with how he came out.

Thoughts on Purchasing Magazines and Books

2009-12-19T15:59:00.004-06:00

Issue by issue, Crossed Genres is disappearing. Disaster has not struck, but by contract, the publisher possesses the rights to the short stories for one calendar year, after which the rights revert to the authors. When my story "Stay" was published in Issue 12, Issue 1 was still available in the store, so I didn't quite realize the full ramifications of the contract. Issue 1 was removed from the Crossed Genres website and from all stores at the end of November. Issue 2 will be removed at the end of December, less than two weeks from now. In just ten months and a couple of weeks, Issue 12, with my story, will vanish from the world until I find some other avenue to get it republished.

The editors of the magazine were very good about publicizing the end of Issue 1 via their blog (and are now doing the same for Issue 2). Read it or buy it now, or lose your chance forever. So I bought a copy of Issue 1 in late November. Issue 1 is gone from the website and from all stores. You can't get it anymore. But I still have my print copy on my bookshelf. There is no way for any publisher or lawyer to revoke it. It is legally mine for as long as I choose to own it (barring theft, fire, or other unforeseen events, of course).

For my Christmas present to myself, I purchased Issues 2-13 in print. So when Issue 2 vanishes at the end of December, I won't have to worry about whether or not I've finished reading it. I have a print copy that will be mine forever. It will never expire. I won't have to worry about the rest of the issues disappearing month by month. I can read them at my leisure, even if they sit on my shelf for ten years before I get to them. (And I do have books that have been waiting ten or more years in my Garden of the Unread. I'm stockpiling for a snowy day, or retirement.)

This brings me to the idea of ownership versus access, a huge topic in the library world.

The University of Anywhere Library subscribes to Database ABC, which includes full-text access to 10,000 journals. It's great for the students who can do their research from home. The library serves them, even if they never once set foot inside the building.

The library's shelves are packed to bursting. There's no money for a building expansion, so something has to go, or they'll be forced to stack books on the floor. The librarians decide that since Database ABC has full-text access to 30 years of back issues, they can weed their print copies of any journals that are among the 10,000 included in the database. That frees up a lot of shelf space, and the students, preferring online access, haven't been using those paper copies anyway. For a while, everyone is happy.

But the library has budget cuts. The cost of serials goes up every year at a rate much, much higher than the rate of inflation, so even if the library has a static budget, that translates to real cuts in journal subscriptions. And Database ABC is expensive, and the price just went up another couple thousand dollars. After several years of static budgets alternating with cuts, the library has already cut everything nonessential, and they're now forced to take a long, hard, painful look at Database ABC, which is so very critical to the collection.

So the library drops their subscription to Database ABC and subscribes to a new service, Database GHI, which is significantly cheaper. Database GHI also has full-text access to 10,000 journals, but only 6,000 of those were included in Database ABC. So the library has gotten 4,000 new journals, but has lost 4,000 old ones. There is no access to back issues for the years they paid for. They're just gone.

Among those 4,000 lost are a couple hundred journals for which the library once had print subscriptions. If the library had kept their paper copies, they would still have access to the back issues, even though they canceled the subscription. But since the library tossed them to make space, they're just gone forever.

See the difference? You buy a print journal or book, and it's yours. You own it. You don't have to worry about licenses or contracts. You paid for the print copy, and you have the right to read it, loan it, give it away, sell it, or keep it until you die and designate its new owner in your will. That is ownership.

With electronic materials, what you're typically buying is access. You might have access for a set period of time, or you might have access for as long as you subscribe to the service. It all depends on the license agreement. You don't own anything. You can't loan it, give it away, sell it, or even keep it. If you cancel the service, your access vanishes.

And access is often proprietary. If you bought 100 books for your Amazon Kindle, and you want to switch over to a Barnes & Noble nook, do you think you can transfer those 100 books to your new device? If you're not sure, the answer is no. Will that change in the future? Maybe. Will it change in time for it to matter? Who knows?

Remember the brouhaha a while ago about George Orwell's works on the Amazon Kindle? There was a licensing issue, and Amazon deleted those editions of Nineteen Eighty-Four and Animal Farm from the Kindles of everyone who had purchased them. The customers' money was refunded, but that wasn't the point.

If people had purchased print editions of Nineteen Eighty-Four, then no matter what licensing issue came up, neither Amazon nor the publisher would have had the right to go into people's homes and remove the physical books from the shelves.

There was a big outcry from the public, and Amazon basically said, "Sorry. Won't happen again." But there is really nothing to stop them from doing it again. There is actually nothing illegal about what they did. Since copyright law was involved, Amazon probably felt they not only had the right but also the obligation to delete those books from customers' Kindles.

And this is the main reason I prefer to buy print copies of things I want to keep.

Sometimes I'm fine with simple access. If I watch a video on YouTube, I don't necessarily want to own a DVD of it, and I wouldn't particularly care if the video were deleted the next day, never to be accessed by anyone again. Likewise when I read an article in the news or on someone's blog, I rarely have cause to refer back to it later. Access is enough, and if it goes away, I'm not troubled.

Generally, I don't care to own magazines. Crossed Genres is different because each issue is a collection of short stories, which in my mind are less ephemeral than most articles.

For books, when I borrow a book from a friend or a library, I return it when I'm done. I access it via a promise or a library card, but I don't own it. But if I really, really like the book, I'll go out and buy a copy to ensure that my access to it will never vanish when my friend moves away or when the library weeds it from their collection.

Some people say content is the only factor of importance, and the carrier (physical or electronic) is irrelevant. But I say that the carrier fundamentally transforms the way we relate to the content. I'm not saying one is superior to the other, but that they are different. You must think about this when you decide whether you want to own or simply access a particular book or magazine. Do you want to just read it once and be done with it, or do you want to ensure that you always have it whenever you want it? And if you want to loan it, you need to own it.

There is no one-size-fits-all answer to the ownership-versus-access question, but it's important to consider it as you make decisions about how you want your media, whether it be books, magazines, movies, or music.

Faster than a Speeding Bullet . . .

2009-12-16T20:00:00.003-06:00

I bought a DVD of the old 1940s Superman cartoon, packaged in a cute metal lunchbox. (Cost me $5. The lunchbox itself is probably worth that.) I'm sure I saw these cartoons as a child, but I don't remember them. I watched the first two tonight. What a hoot!

The first thing that struck me is the difference in Superman's origin story. Yes, he's still the sole survivor of Krypton, which was apparently destroyed by massive earthquakes. However, the narration implied that everyone on Krypton was super, while the Superman canon I grew up with (the Christopher Reeve movies) had it that everyone on Krypton was normal while on Krypton, and they only developed the amazing powers on Earth due to the effects of our yellow sun. (Yeah, that doesn't really make much sense when you think about it. I suppose it's fine to imagine that everyone on Krypton was super. Like Buddy said in The Incredibles, "When everyone's super, no one will be.")

The biggest difference in his origin story, however, was that he grew up in an orphanage. No kindly Ma and Pa Kent to raise their special boy on a spacious farm. The Man of Steel was on his own from the get go.

The next thing that struck me was the character of Lois Lane. I figured, these were made in 1941-1942, so I expected Lois to be, you know, pre-feminist. Not so! She's gutsy, even if she has no self-preservation instinct. ("What is this 'danger' of which you speak? Pardon me, but I have to crawl inside the cargo hold of this giant, marauding robot.") In the first episode on the disc, when she wanted to go somewhere, she hopped into an airplane and flew herself. Yep, Lois was a pilot. Sure, she still got captured and needed Supes to save her, but so has every version of Lois Lane. Ever. I'm actually finding 1940s Lois more independent, more liberated, and generally more awesome than later versions. (So far, anyway. As I've said, I've only watched the first two episodes.)

Anyway, these are good, clean, leave-your-brain-at-the-door fun. I look forward to watching the rest of them.

Tool-Using Octopuses

2009-12-15T21:47:00.003-06:00

This is so cool! I knew octopuses were highly intelligent, but I never guessed they used tools. Check out the video of octopuses toting around coconut shells and using them as houses. I especially like the one who pulls two coconut halves together to enclose itself in a sphere.

My Car is Buried

2009-12-09T09:22:00.007-06:00

We got quite a bit of snow yesterday and last night. I love the wind-sculpted drifts.

I think the mix of frost and steam on the laundry room windows is awesome.

However, my car is buried, and I do not own a snow shovel. I'm actually not quite sure what to do.

Normally, I can just stomp down a walkway around my car, but the drifts are a little high for that this time. I considered using a bowl or kitchen pot to dig, but the alley hasn't been plowed yet anyway. Even if I dug out my parking stall, it would get buried again. And the car I saw trying to get through the alley was having quite a lot of trouble. My car would be high centered before I made it three yards. Plus, the temperature right now, with the sun shining bright, is only 5 degrees.

I think I will hitch a ride with one of my coworkers tomorrow morning, then borrow her snow shovel after work. Then I would be able dig my car out tomorrow evening. That sounds like the safest plan.

Undercover Cat

2009-11-27T13:03:00.006-06:00

As I went to put my freshly-laundered sheets on my bed, I found Luna sleeping in the middle of the bare mattress. So I put the fitted sheet on right over him, thinking he would run away.

He didn't. He's still there, happy as a furry clam. I can't decide whether to finish making the bed. I think with the extra layers heaped on top, he'd be even more warm and comfy, and he might stay for hours.

"Put that sheet back down, silly human. You're letting all the heat out."

Turkey Moon

2009-11-25T06:26:00.002-06:00

Last year, I wrote "A Vampire's Thanksgiving." I had planned to leave it at that, but this weekend, I was inspired to write a sequel. Be warned: it's ridiculous. Thanks to my friend Katherine for proofreading. So, without further ado, here is . . .

Turkey Moon

by Anj

Still a few hours until her friends arrived to pick her up. They had talked her into going to see New Moon, even though she really didn't want to. She just couldn't get into that series. Real vampires weren't sexy, and they most certainly did not sparkle.

"Gah! Dead again!" The shout came from across the room, and Annie looked up to see her family's pet vampire frustratedly gnawing on the video game controller. "Game over" glowed on the TV screen in ghostly white letters.

He'd moved in last Thanksgiving. Apparently he'd been her mom's childhood friend, so he was in his forties, even though his body was frozen at age twelve. He was pale as a vanilla milkshake, both his skin and his hair. His eyes glowed maraschino cherry red. Several bats clung to his sleeves and hung off the limp bag of his sweatshirt's hood.

It was because of the bats that she'd taken to calling him Belfry. He'd invited the bats to stay with him in the attic, and the family had been forced to move all of their stored junk down to the basement, where it had been ruined in the spring floods. Annie hadn't felt very thankful toward him since then. Of course, she hadn't liked him much before that, either. He was the reason she couldn't invite any of her friends inside the house, and he'd even permanently scared off her boyfriend when he'd used his fangs to cut open the wrapper on a new DVD.

He set the controller down, and the bats seized their chance. They gathered around the controller like it was a feeding dish. On the screen, the "continue" option flashed by, followed by a loading bar.

"Shouldn't you and your friends be out hunting?" She wanted him to go suck on a cow. The bats could scrounge for any bugs that hadn't died in the frost.

He stood, leaving the bats to enjoy their chance at Parasite Eve II, then tucked his gray-freckled hands into the pocket of his hoodie. "Still an hour until sundown. Anyway, I don't need to hunt tonight. Tomorrow's thanksgiving, so before sunrise, I get my share of the turkey."

"It would be nice if you'd pluck it after you suck it." She smiled, hoping to foist her chore off onto him.

"Sure, no problem." He grinned, eyes glazed like he was looking inside her. She'd never get used to that creepy vampire stare.

A blood-curdling gobble rose from the back yard.

"Sounds like someone knows we're talking about her." Belfry licked his lips.

Annie rolled her eyes and went out back alone. The turkey hen threw herself against the chicken wire, bending the walls out of shape. But the cage held. The posts were driven deep into the ground.

Annie pointed at the bird. "Quiet, you. Enjoy your last few hours of life."

"Enjoy yours!" the turkey shot back.

Annie stumbled back into the house and slammed the door. Clutching at her pounding heart, she turned the knobs for both locks, then looked around the mudroom for something heavy to brace the door with.

"What's up?" Belfry asked.

"The bird threatened me! It talked!"

He lifted the heavy cloth curtain to peek outside, then drew back with a hiss. He stared at the dark gray burn on his hand and whimpered.

She slapped the back of his head. "Idiot. You know better."

He helped her make sure every window was closed and every door locked. Then she called her two mothers. "Belfry and I will figure something out. But I don't want the turkey to get you when you come home, so stay away until we call you back!"

From the other room, she heard Belfry cry, "Oh, man!"

She ran after him. "What? What?"

He frowned, pointing at the TV screen. "They got past the trash heap monster!" He shook a fist at the bats. "I tried forty or fifty times!"

"Forget the game! We have a homicidal talking turkey outside!"

"Relax. As soon as the sun goes down, I'll take care of it. It's just a bird."

"She'll peck your eyes out!"

"Even if she does, they'll grow back." He held up his burned hand, which had mostly healed already.

Stupid vampires with their regeneration. Always showing off.

Every few minutes, Annie peeped out through the curtain. The turkey stood stock still, glaring at her with beady black eyes. Her variegated bronze feathers were actually quite beautiful, although the loose, bumpy, blue skin on her head and neck were kind of disgusting.

The sun dipped low to the horizon. Another few minutes, and Belfry could go outside. Annie opened the door a crack and leaned out. "Truce? If we let you go free, will you promise not to hurt us?"

The turkey puffed up her feathers. "Afraid? You should be! I've been caged here all day! I assure you, there will be blood spilled! And it will not be mine!"

Annie closed the door and locked it again. A moment later, she parted the curtain less than a quarter inch, striving to keep her movement imperceptible.

The turkey was gone. Inside the pen was a naked girl about Annie's age, with beautiful bronze skin and thick brown hair streaked with gold. She was gorgeous, downright hot. At that moment, Annie decided she was bisexual after all.

The turkey girl gripped one of the metal posts with both hands and worked it back and forth. The post came free, and the girl stumbled back. She lifted the chicken wire and crawled underneath. She was free. She ran away, toward the cornfield.

Annie opened the door and leaned out. "Wait!"

The girl squawked and flapped her arms. She transformed into the turkey and bolted toward the field, picking up speed quickly.

Annie called, "All talk, huh? You were really scared!"

The turkey turned around and flew low over the ground toward Annie, gobbling loudly.

Annie slammed the door. A loud thump knocked a few bits of plaster off the wall.

Outside, all was silent. The windows darkened. Belfry appeared at Annie's shoulder. "Sundown. Let me at her."

"Just hold your horses."

"I don't have any horses."

Ignoring him, Annie opened the door.

Belfry muttered, "I always wanted a horse."

The turkey lay on the porch, still as death.

Belfry frowned. "Bummer." Then he grinned, baring his fangs. "Oh well, the blood's still warm."

Annie got between him and the bird. "Stop! She's a person!"

His gleaming, hungry eyes remained locked on the floppy blue throat, but he held back.

Annie had no idea how to check a turkey's pulse, but she didn't have to. One wing twitched. One talon scratched across the porch. Annie helped the turkey to her feet. The bird swayed and stumbled, then ruffled her feathers. Then she gobbled loudly and beat Annie with her wings.

Annie screamed, falling off the edge of the porch and landing in the bare branches of the shrubbery. She covered her face with her forearms, but the attack ceased.

She looked up to see Belfry holding the turkey aloft, licking his lips. "Yumilicious! All that adrenaline gives the blood a great flavor!"

The turkey transformed into a girl and punched him square in the mouth. He let go, looking more surprised than hurt. The turkey girl hopped around the porch, waving her bloody hand. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" Apparently, she'd cut her knuckles on his fangs.

Annie crawled out of the bushes. "Okay, truce! Truce!" She held out both hands. "Nobody's eating anybody." She faced the wereturkey. "What's your name?"

"Thomasina."

She introduced herself and Belfry. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Oh, I don't think so!"

"No, not like that. We'll make it vegetarian."

Belfry grumbled.

"I'll bandage your hand, give you some clothes, and cook whatever you want, to apologize for keeping you in that pen."

Thomasina stared toward the field, but her pretty brown eyes were softening.

"What do you like to eat?" Annie prompted.

"Corn."

"Uh, corn it is, then. Come on in!"

Thomasina eyed Belfry warily.

He shrugged. "I don't feed on humans. As a were, you're half-human, so I guess that makes you off limits."

Thomasina sighed. "All right. It's not like I have anywhere to go anyway. This is a dangerous time of year for my kind."

"Well, stay with us. We'll give you a safe haven."

"You have to promise not to eat some other turkey tomorrow."

"Promise." Annie offered her hand.

"Well, all right." Thomasina took it.

Impulsively, Annie lifted Thomasina's hand and kissed it.

Thomasina drew back. "You'd better not be tasting me."

Annie escorted Thomasina inside, with Belfry following dejectedly. After providing their guest with a shirt and pants, she called her moms. "Everything's fine. We have guest. Can you stop at the store and pick up a tofureky? And corn. Lots of corn."

2009-11-14T08:58:00.002-06:00

Since now the FTC requires all bloggers to disclose whether they received any payment or perks of any kind for reviewing products, this is my disclosure/disclaimer to apply to all of my previous reviews on this blog.

No one ever paid me to review anything on this blog. No one ever gave me anything for the explicit purpose of reviewing it. True, I did not buy everything I reviewed--often, I borrowed things from libraries and from friends, none of whom had anything to gain from a positive review of the items. Anything I received as a gift--be it a book, DVD, food, drink, or whatever--came as a gift from a friend or family member, probably for my birthday or for Christmas. They gave it to me because they loved me and wanted me to have it. If I really liked it, I reviewed it on my blog so other people would also see that it was cool. I have never received any "freebees" as bribes for reviewing anything. Yes, even my Jones Soda reviews of the past were done without any kind of compensation whatsoever, other than getting to drink the soda (as much a punishment as a reward with some of those flavors). Those were Christmas gifts from a friend unconnected to Jones in any way.

The only reviews on this blog that I have a truly personal stake in are the ones related to Crossed Genres magazine. They paid me a flat fee of $10 for my short story "Stay," which was published in Issue 12. I received a 25% discount on the print copies I purchased. Since the cost of two print copies, even with a 25% discount, exceeds $10, I have already paid Crossed Genres more money than I have earned from them. Of course, I have the enormous benefit of having my story published. But they did NOT pay or even ask me to post anything to my blog. I genuinely like their publication. And I want everyone to read my story.

I will try to remember to include some kind disclosure every time I review something in the future, but if I miss a post, consider this the default: I review things because I want to. No one bought my review.

If I ever do get any kind of compensation or freebee, I will say so. But I really don't want to get into the business of professional reviews. I did have one offer a few weeks ago--someone offered me a complimentary copy of some software if I would review it. I refused, because I didn't know the person and I had no particular use for that type of software. I never got the software, never did a review, and promptly forgot what it was even called and what it was supposed to do.

So there you have it. I am a fan and not a professional reviewer.

I'm Published!

2009-11-01T17:13:00.003-06:00

My short story "Stay" has been published in Issue 12 of Crossed Genres, which has been released today! The theme of the issue is LGBTQ, but all stories have elements of science fiction or fantasy as well.

I am so excited! This is my first time in print. From what I've read so far, the other stories in the issue are great, too. I can't wait to read the rest of them.

So please, read my story. Read everyone's stories.

Paper copies and electronic copies are available for purchase through the Crossed Genres website or from Amazon. You can also read it for free on the website. But I have a paper copy in hand and it's really nice--squarebound, glossy cover, high quality paper. It'd look great on your shelf when you finish reading it. (No, I don't get paid any extra if it sells a lot of copies. I just think it's a nice magazine. Yes, I'm biased.)

I am floating on air.

Hedgehogs in Clay and Crystal

2009-10-18T11:12:00.004-05:00

I found a piece of cactus quartz that reminded me of a hedgehog. So I made a little mate to go with it.

If you're not familiar with cactus quartz, it occurs when smaller crystals grow around a larger crystal. In this case, the tip of the larger crystal was still visible (the hedgehog's head), but the sides were completely covered with smaller crystals.

I saw cactus quartz for the first time a couple of weeks ago, when my mom found a beautiful piece of clear quartz partially covered by smaller citrine crystals, resembling what she described as "a castle on a craggy mountian top."

My New Cabinet

2009-10-14T20:58:00.006-05:00

Behold the magnificent cabinet my stepdad Dave made for me.

The saga began last summer when I found an 18" x 24", 32-lb. slab of marble propped against the wall in the alley between the twin buildings of my apartment complex. It was near the dumpster, so it was obvious someone was trying to dispose of it, but perhaps found it too heavy to lift up over the edge of the trash bin. So I claimed it, with the vague idea that I would make a table or something.

At first, I shopped around antique stores and flea markets, looking for an appropriately-sized table that needed a new top. I didn't find anything to my liking. Then I shopped the home improvement stores for table legs, with the half-baked idea that I might borrow my stepdad's woodshop and make a table.

Eventually, he said he'd make it for me. And somewhere along the line, the table concept morphed into a cabinet, because I really need some pantry space, and (unlike me) he is skilled enough to make something with moveable shelves and hinged doors.

And then he had his knee injury. He was laid up for quite some time. He's still not fully recovered, but he made a push to finish the cabinet because he has a lot of other projects he wants to work on. He's not the type who can tolerate sitting idle. He is driven to create.

And so, with the help of Paul (my stepsister's husband, general handyman, and strong guy), Mom and Dave delivered the cabinet to my apartment tonight. It is made of solid oak and likely sturdier than any other piece of furniture I have. The ornate molding is gorgeous, and the shelf-pegs are seated into metal-lined holes. The marble top is at a good height for me to work on something while standing up. He did a truly amazing job on this.

And, without actually trying to, he somehow matched the color of my hardwood floor exactly.

I'm very excited. I can't wait to fill it with the kitchen stuff that is presently scattered all around my apartment. Yes, the cabinet is in my living room, but it's a lot closer to my kitchen than any of the closets I have stuff stashed in now.

Murphy approves of his fancy new marble-topped cat perch.

Ebook Piracy

2009-10-12T16:08:00.002-05:00

There's an interesting discussion on ebook piracy going on over at The Blood-Red Pencil. Whether or not you want to participate in this discussion, The Blood-Red Pencil is a blog all writers ought to follow. They've always got interesting things to say.

Peaceful Snow

2009-10-10T10:42:00.005-05:00

This morning, Omaha woke up to our first snow of the season. It's cold out, but by no means bone chilling. In fact, for a snowy day, it's rather temperate. Big clusters of sticky flakes drift down serenely, with no wind to trouble them. It's a beautiful morning.

There are many bewildered robins hopping around the sidewalks and streets, probably wishing they'd thought to fly south a little earlier this year.

Video + Book = ?

2009-10-01T20:07:00.003-05:00

Remember how I was ranting about video ads in print magazines?

Vooks are ebooks with video interspersed through the text. And while there is no print involved with Vooks, some people (like me) don't really like to read long texts on a screen. I prefer online for short texts and print for long ones. And since there are still a lot of people like me who want physical books, anyone who desires to make money will try to get their text into as many formats (i.e. markets) as possible.

With those ultra-thin video screens they're designing for magazines, they could make print editions of these Vooks (minus the social networking aspects, unless some clever person figures out a way to build a wireless connection into a print book). Of course, I hope the next company to get in the game comes up with a better name than "Vook."

Now, I wouldn't want all of my books to have videos. The whole point of reading a novel, for me, is to enjoy the pictures that form in my head. I'd just as soon not have that spoiled by someone else's idea of what the characters and setting look like.

However, for illustrated children's books, how-to manuals, textbooks, and many other types of print material, accompanying videos might be very appealing. But let me tell you, if a video is integral to the text, I'd MUCH rather have it physically embedded in the book than have to stop reading, head over to the computer or dig some electronic device out of my bag, and go online, as you'd have to do if you were something like Anthony E. Zuiker's Level 26: Dark Origins. (I haven't read it, so I have nothing to say for or against the book. I'm just pointing out its existence as a hybrid text, which I wouldn't have even known about if it hadn't been mentioned in the New York Times article.)

At that point, you really cease to have a book. You have something new. That's not necessarily bad, but reading a text in a linear fashion--with no hyperlinks, no video, nothing but you and the printed word--engages the brain in a different way than one typically interacts with an electronic text. I don't know about you, but when I read something online, I tend to follow links, check out less-familiar terms in Wikipedia, shoot off the occasional email, then return to the text. Before I finish an article, I might have ten related browser tabs open. In other words, when I read online, I multitask.

Reading offline, in print, provides the opportunity to monotask. That's not something we do a lot of in the modern world. And I think it's something we need.

So maybe we don't need videos embedded in our books. I'm sure someone will do it anyway. People will always experiment with combining technologies in all kinds of ways. Some will fail, and some will take off and change our society. But I think there will always be a place for the old fashioned print novel alongside all the new forms of storytelling. The new hybrid books will not supersede the original; there's plenty of room for coexistence. We need different formats for different experiences, and I think people like to be able to change pace once in a while.

The Joy of Serendipity

2009-09-30T18:13:00.003-05:00

Ah, Serendipity!

My nephews loaned me all five books of Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. I'm only a few chapters into The Lightning Thief, but so far, I'm enjoying it.

However, as it happened, I forgot to take the book to work this morning. Then when lunchtime came, I had nothing to read.

Well, I work in a library, so this wasn't really a problem. I checked the catalog to see if we had The Lightning Thief, and we did. So I went out to the shelves to get it, so I could keep reading where I'd left off.

However, it was missing from the shelf. In its place was a misshelved book. I took that book to reshelve it in its proper place, and there I spotted a stray book that fallen into the space between shelves. It likely would have been lost forever if I had not noticed it through the gap between the properly shelved books.

As I pulled it out the fallen book, intending to reshelve it properly, neither its bland blue cover nor its nondescript title Nine Fairy Tales caught my attention, but the author's name certainly did. Čapek. I thought, Now there's a good Czech name. I wonder if this is a Czech book? And indeed it is. It is written by Karel Čapek and illustrated by Josef Čapek (and translated into English by Dagmar Herrmann, which is good, because I can't read Czech).

Karel and Josef Čapek, you may know, are the authors of R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots), the play which gave the word robot to the world.

So I took Nine Fairy Tales to the breakroom to read during my lunch break.

It is wonderful! It is filled with delight and charm, with a fair dose of that excellent Czech dry humor. The first chapter began with a clever old woman and her black cat, a disobedient princess, and an honorable king, then predictably ended with a rich old woman, a happy princess and cat, and a somewhat bemused king. In the second chapter, the cat met the palace dogs. I knew how I expected this chapter to progress, however, I was surprised by the turn of events. The third chapter brought more surprises. I think the predictable first chapter was only to lull the reader into a false sense of security. I am greatly looking forward to the next chapter, because I can't even imagine where this tale will go.

And I would never have even known it existed if not for an unlikely chain of events. It's little coincidences like these, too perfect to be random, that fill the world with mystery.

Wish Me Luck!

2009-09-26T09:46:00.002-05:00

Well, I finally did it. I submitted two short stories to a magazine. So either I will get published, or I will get my very first rejection letter. (Or, since I submitted two stories, possibly my first two rejection letters.) Either way, I have taken the next big step toward becoming a "real" writer.

I was very excited a couple of weeks ago, when a friend told me about Crossed Genres having an issue entirely devoted to LGBTQ. Of course, the stories must also have elements of fantasy or science fiction, which the majority of my stories do, so it just seemed like this opportunity was perfect in every way.

I read a few issues of Crossed Genres, to make sure I liked the kind of thing they published. All of the stories I read were good, several were excellent, and a couple were purely amazing. I look forward to reading the rest of the back issues when I have time. Plus, they had an interview with Phil and Kaja Foglio, of whom I've been a fan for years, so that was another point in their favor.

Lastly, there's the fact that they chose LGBTQ as the theme for the final issue of their first year of publication. A science fiction and fantasy magazine that not only welcomes but openly seeks LGBTQ content? How awesome is that?

I am confident that both of my stories are good. They've both been through the gauntlet of my critique group, and I've reread and revised repeatedly. The two stories are very different in tone and style, so I stand a better chance of having one of them fit the magazine's needs. Of course, I don't know how much competition I'm up against. They may have a large pool of superb submissions by now.

Even if I don't get accepted this time, I will probably try to submit other stories to future issues, because I think this is the kind of publication that I would like to be associated with.

Fingers crossed! Wish me luck!

Now This Just Ticks Me Off

2009-09-21T18:33:00.005-05:00

Yes, they are now embedding tiny, ultra-thin video screens into print magazines. Why, you ask? In order to inflict noisy, flashy advertisements on us when we're trying to read. (Hat tip to Martyn Daniels' Brave New World blog, where I read about this.)

Imagine you are sitting in the breakroom at lunch, or in a library, or in a hospital waiting room, just flipping through a magazine. And you hit a page with one of these video ads. There are no volume controls. You can't turn it off except by turning the page. What if the one article you're actually interested in reading is on the same page? Now imagine five or six people around the hospital waiting room are all flipping through magazines, and different ads are playing loud enough for you to hear. It would drive everyone batty.

When people choose to watch videos in public places, for the most part they are considerate enough to use headphones. (At least in my experience.) With these ads, that's not an option. They'll just go off whether you want them to or not.

I tell you, nothing makes me get off a web page faster than an ad that has sound and annoying animation. If I really need to view the web page, I mute the volume and hold my hand over the offending ad so I don't have to look at it.

And now ads just like that will be appearing in paper magazines.

I am thoroughly disgusted.

I have nothing against the technology itself. What I object to is the increasingly intrusive advertising. (By the way, if you want a humorous vision of the future where such advertising is embedded in the dust and floats in the air, read The Sheriff of Yrnameer, by Michael Rubens.) Now, if someone were to embed videos into books, for example, to make animated children's books, that would be awesome. But using this technology for disposable ads is just plain awful.

Another Day at the Zoo

2009-09-15T09:38:00.012-05:00

Went to the zoo yesterday. Here are a few of the highlights.

There was a sprinkler watering a little flower garden just outside the okapi enclosure. The furthest bursts of spray made it inside the pen. This hornbill was sitting on the fence, washing himself in those intermittent bursts of spray. He turned this way and that, making sure to get every feather wet.

Meerkats and tigers and bears, oh my.

Peacock chicks huddled in their nest, no more than five feet from the sidewalk. Obviously neither they nor their parents were too worried about all the humans going by.

I've always been fond of vultures, and this guy looks particularly cool sunning his wings.

And then there was this weird fungus growing on a tree. It looked almost exactly like baked bread with drops of honey seeping out of it. I hope no one tries to eat it.

And bats, bats, bats! (Short-tailed fruit bats, to be specific.)

Dinosaurs in the Forest

2009-08-16T19:38:00.008-05:00

I went to Fontenelle Forest early this morning for a short walk. Because it was raining, there were very few visitors, which made it very peaceful and soothing. I saw three separate groups of turkeys, since there were no people to scare them away.

The mist was breathtakingly beautiful.

The forest is currently hosting the Dino Quest exhibit. Along the boardwalk trails, they have realistic, life-sized sculptures a dozen different types of dinosaurs. The poses are all very natural, and they are arranged in such a way that when you come across some of the dinosaurs, especially the smaller ones, you are surprised and delighted as if you were encountering a living creature. The species all seemed chosen to highlight the evolutionary connection between dinosaurs and birds.

And so I thought it particularly fitting when I encountered a flock of turkeys by the Parasaurolophus exhibit. Like they were hanging out with their ancestors or something.

All in all, it's a very nice exhibit. If you live in the area, it's worth visiting.

Grotesque with Crucifix

2009-07-28T21:34:00.004-05:00

In the Old Market in Omaha, there are a pair of winged lions on the side of one of the buildings. I love these sculptures and have to visit them every time I'm in the area. Well, tonight I noticed something different about them. They were wearing crucifixes. I'm not sure why someone would put gaudy plastic crucifixes (which look like they might glow in the dark) onto these grotesques. Were they exorcising evil spirits? Converting the statues to Christianity? Or just decorating their favorite architectural pets? Regardless of the reason, I think the lions look rather cute with their new bling.

(They're too far apart to photograph together with any respectable amount of detail, so I'm only showing the left one. The right one is a mirror image, except with a little less soot staining its face. Also, the other lion's crucifix has white beads.)

Doodles

2009-07-25T17:22:00.005-05:00

I went to the library at The Kaneko today with my laptop, planning to sit and write. The Adventures of Prince Achmed (1926 German silent animated film) was playing on one of the TVs, and I ended up totally engrossed in its awesome beauty. I also ended up not writing a single word, nor even cracking open my laptop. I got out my sketchbook and doodled a page. Enjoy!

My favorite is the latte-bearing Cheshire Cat down in the lower right corner.

Cerberus Wants to Go for Walkies

2009-06-18T20:12:00.003-05:00

I made Cerberus for my dad for Father's Day. He (they?) looks so cheerful, waiting for walkies.

Trading Spaces: Feline Edition

2009-06-17T21:40:00.001-05:00

At every meal, morning or evening, Murphy walks around my ankles in the kitchen, while Luna waits beneath the table in the other room. I put the first bowl of food down for Murphy, then while he eats, I go to the other room to fetch Luna. Luna won't come to the kitchen of his own accord. He waits for me to pick him up and carry him to his food.

Except for tonight.

I prepared the two bowls of cat food and set one down, and the cat that had been worming around my ankles dove into it. My eyes fell upon the entrance to the kitchen, where Murphy watched in horror.

Yes, it was Luna who had been in the kitchen, rubbing my ankles, and who claimed the first bowl of food, which was in Murphy's spot.

Murphy then ran away and hid under the bed. While I was fumbling in the darkness under the bed looking for him, he slipped away. I found him under the table in the other room, in Luna's spot, waiting. So I picked him up and carried him to the kitchen, and set him down with the second bowl of food in Luna's normal spot.

Crazy kitties, messing with my head.

Units of Measurement

2009-06-17T21:00:00.004-05:00

Writers come up with all kinds of strange questions. Would a particular character estimate the size of area in "football fields" or "city blocks"? Trying to decide which would better suit the scene I'm writing, I discovered converter for football fields and city blocks. Wow, you really can find anything imaginable online.

(One city block equals about 0.88 football fields, if you care.)

Cute Chicks

2009-06-04T21:02:00.006-05:00

Some birds built a nest on top of my friends' floodlight, just outside their garage. There are baby birdies! So cute!

Dragon? What Dragon?

2009-05-27T21:48:00.003-05:00

I told my boss how much I enjoyed Wicked, and she said that her son had been particularly impressed with the dragon. But I didn't see a dragon. I love dragons, so surely I would have noticed if one had been included in the play. I wondered if it was a difference in staging, but she assured me that her son had seen the show at the Orpheum here in Omaha, same as me. She also mentioned that the dragon had been mentioned in the newspaper article about the musical. Later, I checked the Omaha World-Herald, and sure enough, I found a picture. And while the rest of the Orpheum's stage looked familiar, the dragon most certainly did not.

I was mystified. How could I have missed a gigantic dragon whose wings spanned the entire stage? Either the prop had been damaged and had been removed sometime before the performance I attended, or I had simply overlooked it.

How is that possible?

Well, human perception is a strange thing. Watch this video of a perception experiment, then test yourself with a different experiment. (Or better yet, test someone who doesn't know what exactly they're being tested for.)

Change blindness! The human brain can not process all of the visual data the eyes receive, and so it filters based on attention. Whatever you are focusing your attention on is what you see, and you don't notice anything else.

Apparently, I was paying so much attention to the witches and the flying monkeys that I never saw the gargantuan dragon sprawled across the top of the set, even though it would have been roughly eye-level with where I was sitting.

But I felt better after I asked both of the people who attended the show with me, and learned that neither of them saw the dragon either. So that makes a case for the dragon simply not being there anymore. However, to be honest, I just can't be sure.

Reviews of Many Things

2009-05-23T11:25:00.004-05:00

Sorry I haven't been blogging much lately. Here's a pile of mini-reviews of things I've watched or read recently.

AWESOME THINGS

Wicked -- I saw the musical at the Orpheum Theater. If you're not familiar with it, it's the story of The Wizard of Oz retold from the point of view of the Wicked Witch of the West. It was absolutely wonderful. I have read the book by Gregory Maguire, and the book was good, but not amazing. The musical was a heck of a lot of fun, though. They changed the plot quite a bit, especially toward the end. Because, you know, musicals need happy endings. But it worked. It was a hoot!

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay -- This book by Michael Chabon is one of the most engrossing novels I've read in a long time. Young Czech Joe Kavalier escaped from Nazi-occupied Prague and made his way to New York City. There, he and his cousin Sam Clay, created a Nazi-bashing comic book, which lead to fame and fortune . . . and tragedy. The story is so well written, its descriptive passages so rich, that the pictures that formed in my mind were as vivid and clear as if I were looking at the pages of a graphic novel. The book walks the fine line between real life and fantasy. The characters and their relationships feel real, but some of the situations they find themselves in are as wild as the tales they spin in their comics. It's beautifully absurd, and absurdly beautiful. I would recommend this book to . . . well, pretty much anyone.

Star Trek -- Some people don't like the new film because it completely erases the original continuity. But after five or six TV series and ten movies, it was getting hard for Star Trek writers to come up with new plots that didn't contradict something that had already been established. The movie gets around that with time travel, an incident that changes the lives of young Kirk and Spock so that their paths unfold differently. (No ambiguity is left on this count. Uhura even refers directly to "an alternate universe.") So this is a whole new Star Trek, a clean slate. And some of the changes to the universe were HUGE. Certain characters die. A certain planet is destroyed. And certain characters are in a romantic relationship that made me double-take. (Let's just say Uhura kisses someone--not someone I expected--and there was no alien mind control involved.) And it was tremendous fun. It wasn't deep and meaningful, but not everything has to be. It was a thrilling adventure, and I loved every second of it.

Avenue Q -- Another Broadway musical, which I saw at the Orpheum over a month ago. It was a rather raunchy, adult homage to Sesame Street. It was hilarious, but decidedly not for all audiences. I loved the Bad Idea Bears, who always showed up whenever the characters had to a big decision to make, and helped the characters make the worst possible choices. ("I'm broke and unemployed. I don't know how I'm going to pay my rent." "I know what to do! Let's buy beer! Yay!")

LESS-THAN-AWESOME THINGS

The Underneath -- This children's chapter book by Kathi Appelt was a National Book Award finalist, but I wasn't really fond of it. It was an enjoyable melodrama, but the writing style was really irritating, and often rather overblown. Good, but not great.

The Escapist -- This graphic novel is meant to be a representation of the comic written by the characters in The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. However, it really didn't do justice to the source material. At all. It was very disappointing, perhaps because the prose descriptions in the novel gave me such vivid images, and this comic didn't measure up to the pictures in my mind.

Strawberry Panic -- I'm familiar with the lesbian-romance-at-an-all-girls-school sub-genre of anime. I enjoyed Maria-sama ga miteru, and I expected Strawberry Panic to be similar. And on the surface it is. However, it is boring--horribly, excruciatingly boring. It ran for five DVDs, with barely enough plot for one, spread very thinly. It had far too many characters; I kept losing track of who was who. And the plot was stupid. Seriously, how does winning what amounts to a popularity contest for best lesbian couple qualify you for student government? Don't bother.

THE JURY IS STILL OUT

The Historian -- I'm about two-thirds of the way through this book by Elizabeth Kostova, but I'm really enjoying it. There are parallel plots in different time periods, as a girl searches for her missing father, and many years ago, her father searches for his missing professor, and many years before that, the professor searches for the real Vlad Tepes, also known as Dracula. Actual vampires stalk the father and the daughter. (It's nice to see sinister Old World vampires as serious villains again.) I can't tell yet how it will end, but it is a very interesting journey, rich and vivid and suspenseful. I'm leaning toward proclaiming it to be awesome, even though I haven't even finished it yet. *

The L Word -- I've been watching the DVDs with my favorite ex-girlfriend. It's a soap opera, to be sure. At times it borders on porn. Are all those sex scenes really necessary? I don't think so, but it's not bad enough to make me stop watching, because I actually care about some of the characters and want to see what happens to them. But these ladies make some really, really bad life choices at time, and I end up screaming at the TV rather often. I'm at about the middle of season two (out of six). At present, I'm planning to continue buying the DVDs and watching them. Not sure what the final verdict will be. It's witty and interesting, but often very frustrating.

* Addendum 6-4-2009: I finished reading The Historian. It is thoroughly awesome in every respect. It is suspenseful, vivid, and has a nice little twist at the end.

AmazonEncore

2009-05-14T18:48:00.004-05:00

Amazon has redeemed themselves. This has nothing to do with last month's incident, but rather with another issue of importance to me: orphan books. If you're not familiar with the term, an orphan book is one which is out of print and unavailable, but still secured by copyright law. These books are essentially lost.

Well, now Amazon is starting something called AmazonEncore. They plan to take out-of-print books which had good reviews but low sales and republish them, giving them a second chance at life. (Amazon's release didn't use the term "orphan," but some bloggers are.)

Right now, Amazon is starting with a relatively recent self-published book that will likely benefit from Amazon's marketing. However, if Amazon so chooses, they could potentially republish older works as well. Amazon is big enough to afford to buy the rights to these orphan works and put them back into print, and that would mean renewed income for the authors of those books.

This experiment definitely bears watching. I hope it takes off. I'm looking forward to seeing which direction it goes.

If you're interested in orphan books, you should also be keeping an eye on the Google Book Settlement. There's some controversy over that one. It might not be in the authors' best interest.

Lotus Focus: Cat and Moth

2009-04-20T08:21:00.003-05:00

This morning I unlocked a new balance game in Wii Fit: Lotus Focus. This is an exercise in sitting perfectly still. The screen is dark except for a single candle burning in the middle. If you move, the candle goes out. The game tries to distract you with various sound effects, which are easy to ignore, and then by having a moth come and flutter around the flame.

It wasn't the moth that got me, but my cat Luna. As soon as that moth fluttered across the screen, he ran up to the TV, absolutely rapt. I've never seen him interested in anything on the TV screen before. He tracked the moth back and forth, pacing as he tried to figure out how to get through the "window" that separated him from his prey. I broke my stillness trying to repress my laugh.

Anyway, I plan to keep at Wii Fit every day. I make myself endure all the yoga exercises, then allow myself to have some fun with the balance and aerobic games. The balance games are all very fun (except for Lotus Focus, which really seems more like yoga). Even though I'm terrible at them, they're cute and they make me laugh, so I enjoy them even as I fail. Under aerobics, I really enjoy the step games. However, I'm apparently incapable of doing the hula hoop ones. I just can't get the movement right, so I've never actually last more than a few seconds. I'm trying to psych myself up to revisit the strength exercises, which are as un-fun as the yoga ones, and twice as painful.

And if you have Wii Fit and you think the strength exercises are all easy and you're wondering what my problem is, have you ever seen Kung-Fu Panda? On his first day of training, he does so poorly that his master declares, "There is now a Level Zero." That's where I am. Level Zero.

But overall, I'm thinking the Wii Fit was a worthwhile acquisition. I haven't noticed any improvement in my fitness yet, but it's only the fifth day.

Wii Fit, Second Wind

2009-04-17T18:01:00.003-05:00

Tonight I tried the aerobics and balance exercises on the Wii Fit. Unlike the torturous yoga and strength exercises I did last night, the aerobics and balance exercises are actually rather fun. Mind you, I'm still completely terrible at them, failing every single one. However, they are at least enjoyable. Especially the step exercise, which is sort of like Dance Dance Revolution for people who are not physically capable of playing DDR. Maybe I can work myself up to the point where I might be able to handle actual DDR. Now that would be fun.

And these exercises did make me sweat. My calves are now sore from the workout. I take that as a good sign.

Maybe if I keep at the aerobics and balance exercises long enough, I'll get to the point where I can handle the yoga and strength ones. But for now, I'm glad I found some exercises I enjoy.

I logged 21 minutes. I would have kept going, except I have plans for this evening.

Wii Pfft

2009-04-16T20:01:00.002-05:00

Well, I got Wii Fit today. I logged 19 minutes tonight, which does not include load time, demos, etc. I was actually at it for well over an hour.

I feel as though I've paid a bucket of money for a torture device. I might as well go out and buy a rack and thumbscrews to go with it. It is definitely not a game. It is not fun. It is exercise, pure and painful.

I selected my Mii, entered my height and date of birth, and then the system weighed me. It was quite depressing to see my little digital avatar inflate like a balloon. I know I'm obese and horribly out of shape. I have a lot of chronic aches and pains that I use as excuses not to exercise. Blah blah blah, whine whine whine. It's still disheartening.

Still, at least the trainer guides my pace and posture. So this might work better than my long-since-abandoned efforts to exercise solo with the inflatable balance ball. We'll see how it goes over the next few weeks.

Amazon - Resolution?

2009-04-14T18:16:00.003-05:00

I am somewhat mollified. Amazon has apologized for their "embarrassing and ham-fisted cataloging error."

It's not necessarily the most satisfying apology, since it didn't actually contain any of the words apology, apologize, sorry, or even we regret any inconvenience. However, since big businesses rarely apologize for anything, getting something that can be summarized as "we admit we screwed up, and we're fixing it" is probably as good as it gets, and maybe a little better than I hoped for.

I do hope they issue a separate and sincere apology to the authors of the books that were de-listed. Even if it was only for a couple of days, that still represents a loss of income for the writers.

A hacker claimed credit for the fiasco, but he may well be lying. There's also a rumor that it was a mistake made by one employee in France, but that's hearsay from one former Amazon employee who claims to have heard it from a friend who still works there. ("I heard it from a friend of a friend" is the stock urban legends, and should always be regarded with a bit of suspicion.) However, that story does fit with Amazon's description of a "cataloging error."

As someone who works in a library and occasionally has to globally edit subject headings, I can see how this could happen. I once had an automated system flip the tags on biographies of boxers (the athletes) to Boxer Rebellion (an incident in Chinese history). At least that one was easy to fix. It was quite obvious which books had nothing to do with China.

However, tagging all gay and lesbian books as "adult" (Amazon's code for pornography) does not seem like an accident. The particular subject matter is too politically charged. I can see how it might have been the malicious act of one employee, unknown to and unsanctioned by management. Or the company may have picked a scapegoat. If the person who made the change did it maliciously, I hope they are fired. If they did it because their boss told them to, I hope their boss is fired. But the truth of who, how, and why may never be known with certainty.

At any rate, Amazon seems to be fixing the problem swiftly. Behold, the power of public outcry. Some people may point to the quick fix and say that the criers were all worked up over nothing, however, one wonders if the fix would have been forthcoming without ragestorm of negative publicity.

Thank you, Amazon, for fixing the problem and sort-of apologizing. And thank you, Twitterati and bloggers far and wide, for blowing the lid off and letting the air in.

Boycotting Amazon

2009-04-13T16:48:00.004-05:00

I am so angry at Amazon.com right now that I can barely write about it. If you're not aware of the situation, here are a few links.

Amazon stripping sales ranking from gay & lesbian books

Amazon Follies

Amazon Censorship

Amazon.com de-gays search results, sales rankings

Open Letter to Amazon Regarding Recent Policy Changes

Amazonfail: A Call to Boycott Amazon

You will find a whole lot more if you search for #amazonfail on Twitter or Google. Googling Amazon rank brings up still more articles.

It's disgusting that gay-themed children's books, young adult novels, history books, and other books with little or no sexual content were labeled "adult," stripped of their rankings, and made invisible to searches, but a compilation of Playboy centerfolds and other straight books with explicit content were not likewise censored. A double standard has clearly been applied.

I am finding some gay and lesbian content when I'm searching now, but I have no evidence (and no confidence) that all of the de-ranked books have been restored. I think Amazon realized there was a massive backlash against them, and they are quietly restoring the rankings and hoping people will forget they were ever gone.

There is NOTHING about this on Amazon's site, neither on their homepage nor on on their blog. And all they've said to the media is that it was due to a "glitch." (Which is not at all what they told the first few concerned authors who discovered that their books had been de-listed.)

I have bought a lot of things from Amazon.com over the years, but unless they not only correct this situation but also issue a sincere apology instead of a lame "glitch" excuse, I will be taking my business elsewhere.

C'mon, Amazon. Own up to this mess. Fix it and tell the truth about what really happened.

UPDATE - 4-14-2009

Save our Children's Books!

2009-03-31T16:04:00.003-05:00

The poorly-conceived, overly-broad Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act which went into effect on Feb. 10, was intended to protect children from lead in toys and other products for children. However, an unintended side effect could ban access to all children's books printed before 1985. What a horrifying loss to our culture.

What can you do? For easy, but probably ineffective, action, sign a petition. For the chance to actually make a difference, contact your congressman! Representative Jeff Fortenberry of Nebraska has sponsored H.R. 1692, which would exempt normal books from the CPSIA. Urge your representative to support this resolution!

And if the impact on books isn't enough to get you upset about this dreadful law, think about it's impact on everything from secondhand clothing to hand-me-down bicycles. Handmade toys and clothes are likewise contraband. Have a favorite toy from your childhood? Forget about passing it on to your kids.

The more I read about CPSIA and how it is absolutely destroying entire industries, the more it sickens me.

Migraine Lightshow

2009-03-27T06:21:00.002-05:00

I was home with a migraine for most of the day yesterday, laying in bed with a thick blindfold to block out all external light. I normally experience a heightened sensitivity to light with my migraines, but I rarely have other visual effects. But yesterday, with my eyes closed in the perfect darkness, I was treated to quite a show of lights and colors.

Blobs of dingy purple and greenish gold blossomed and flowed into bizarre shapes, pushing against one another, as unmixable as oil and water. Then there were the jagged flashes of white, like lightning piercing clouds roiled by strong winds. The flashes seemed to highlight the edges of abstract, sharp-edged forms, which appeared three-dimensional and organic, but not recognizable as anything I had ever seen before. Overlaid upon all of this was a hazy gray static. The pattern changed quickly and never repeated.

I'm not sure how long this went on, since I never took off the blindfold to look at the clock, but I would guess at least an hour. It was strangely beautiful, like watching a lava lamp. But I'm glad I didn't try to stay at work. Pain aside, it would probably have been difficult to look at a computer screen with all that visual disruption.

Of the Oxford English Dictionary and Wikipedia

2009-03-17T19:16:00.002-05:00

I just finished reading The Professor and the Madman: a Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the making of the Oxford English Dictionary, by Simon Winchester (New York: HarperCollins, 1998), an excellent book for any lover of words or person otherwise interested in the history of lexicography, but likely too pedantic for the casual reader.

Conceived in 1857 not completed until 1928, the gargantuan twelve-volume OED remains the preeminent English language dictionary to this day. The Professor and the Madman is the tale of how Dr. William Chester Minor, a schizophrenic American surgeon, committed a murder in England, which resulted in his confinement in an English lunatic asylum for most of the remainder of his very long life. This unfortunate circumstance created the conditions under which a brilliant (if delusional) man, now confined to a cell, could spend virtually every waking moment reading and gathering quotations to support the definitions in the "big dictionary." Dr. Minor's contributions were on a scale unmatched by other volunteer readers involved in the project.

On page 106, one passage caught my attention. Dr. R.C. Trench, who first proposed the idea of creating a comprehensive dictionary of all the words in English (as opposed to previous dictionaries, which were collections of only rare and unusual words, often with highly biased definitions), suggested that in order to gather and define all the words, it would be necessary to read all the books.

"The undertaking of the scheme, he said, was beyond the ability of any one man. To peruse all of English literature--and to comb the London and New York newspapers and the most literate of the magazines and journals--must be instead 'the combined action of many.' It would be necessary to recruit a team--moreover, a huge one--probably comprising hundreds and hundreds of unpaid amateurs, all of them working as volunteers."

That was a radical idea in 1857. Literally and literarily world-shaking. However, that was indeed how the project went forth. It would have been impossible any other way.

But the real reason this passage stuck in my mind was the revelation that the OED, one of the most respected, authoritative sources in the English language, was produced at least in part by hordes of "unpaid amateurs."

The OED was the Wikipedia of its day.

Scholars scoff at Wikipedia. While it is true that ignorant or malicious people can add errors to Wikipedia, it is no less true that errors make it into print encyclopedias. Even peer-reviewed journals have been hoodwinked, and their back issues are sullied with the occasional article based on falsified research. On the whole, I have found Wikipedia to be quite good, never the end of a research project, but often a worthy start.

Of course, Winchester did not make the OED-Wikipedia connection in his book, since The Professor and the Madman was written well before Wikipedia's creation. However, it's impossible for me not to ponder this matter. Wikipedia is very young. It has the potential to become a comprehensive bank of all world knowledge. If the academic world were to embrace Wikipedia, if more scholars and researchers were to join the ranks of editors to improve both the quantity and the quality of the information in the articles, Wikipedia could evolve.

If the greatest dictionary in the world was produced from the efforts of an army of volunteers, why not the greatest encyclopedia in the world?

Meet Ferber

2009-03-14T15:16:00.009-05:00

Last Saturday, I bought a brand new bottom-of-the-line iMac. It's amazing what passes for bottom-of-the-line these days: 20-inch screen, 2.66GHz Intel Core 2 Duo processor, 2GB memory, a 320GB hard drive, and OS 10.5.

Considering the Mac I just migrated from was a G4 running OS 10.2, with a 40 GB hard drive and a 17-inch screen that I had considered plenty big, the sheer awesomeness of my new iMac is dizzying. I like it. Yes sir, I do.

To go with my shiny new computer, I got a shiny new game: Spore. If there was ever a game for creative people, this is it. You guide the evolutionary path of a creature from single-celled organism to space-faring super-race. Yes, you're using "off the shelf" body parts instead of rendering your creature from scratch, but there are several axes along which you can modify the parts, as well as the textures, colors, and patterns. So no two people will end up with exactly the same alien.

My creature is currently still a beast, but it has developed enough sentience that I can graduate to person and form a tribe at my convenience. I'm a little reluctant to move on, because once you transition from animal to person, you can't modify the appearance of your creature anymore. (Although there will still be much creation in the form of vehicles, buildings, urban planning, civic structure, and so on. You even get to compose a national anthem.) But I really enjoy tweaking my creature. I suppose I can always start a new one from the amoeba stage.

My creature's name is Ferber, after FRBR (Functional Requirements for Bibliographic Records), a frequent topic at work. Here are the highlights of Ferber's evolutionary path.

Fresh from the ocean, first time on land. At this point, I was still thinking of making a cockatrice or a manticore.

Look, Ma, I have arms!

Much as I like purple, I decided it was time to move on. Also, I've found some eyes and jaws I like so well that they'll stay in place through Ferber's final form.

Those now-useless fins have been replaced by some sweet insect wings. And those big, honkin' claws show how fearsome a predator Ferber has become. Think of a velociraptor that can glide and shoot poison.

About time he learned to stand upright. You can't see it from this angle, but I believe he still had that ridiculously long stinger tail at this stage. At least he finally got some ears.

And here is Ferber's current form. Bigger antlers, leathery dragon wings, and a more respectable tail. This might be final, unless I decide to make some last-minute changes before leaping into the Tribal Stage.

Also, today I noticed that you can use the Creature Builder outside of the game. So, just for the fun of it, I made Odin's eight-legged horse Sleipnir from Norse mythology.

Happy National Grammar Day!

2009-03-04T05:26:00.003-06:00

Here are a few of my favorite blogs devoted to grammar, punctuation, and style. I know it's Grammar Day and not Punctuation and Style Day, but good writing requires all three, and they are deeply intertwined.

SPOGG: The Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar
Founders of National Grammar Day.

Mighty Red Pen
A little bit of everything, from punctuation issues in the news to zombie sightings.

The Blood-Red Pencil
Writing advice from 19 professional editors, including Maryann Miller, who used to lead the Nebraska Novelists group until she up and moved to Texas.

The Sentence Sleuth
Features "Criminal Sentences," in which she passes sentence on sentences so poorly written they ought to be criminal. (Like the one I just wrote.)

The Grammarphobia Blog
Answers to reader-submitted questions about grammar and word usage.

The Engine Room
Pokes fun at errors and oddities found in the wild, including signs and news headlines.

Apostrophe Abuse
That's right. A whole blog devoted to signs with prominent apostrophe errors. Go on, laugh at other people's mistakes.

Daily Writing Tips
As expected, offers daily writing tips, and also hosts a short story competition.

Pro Writing Tips
Backing away from the minutia of grammar to give writing advice that will help you develop your own style.

Evil Editor
He takes your query letters and synopses and burns them with his laser eye-beams, then mocks your plot mercilessly. Find out what it is that makes an editor heave your manuscript into the fire without even reading it.

Tea Set

2009-02-22T19:55:00.005-06:00

I gave Mom a box of flowering tea for her birthday, so she brewed a pot to share with Grandma and me.

Since it was a special occasion, she decided to use the special tea set, which had possibly not been used since the time of my great-grandparents.

Grandma remembers her father purchasing it as a gift for her mother at the Ptacek Merchandise Store in Bruno, Nebraska, probably at least 80 years ago. The store was owned by her grandfather (hence my great-great-grandfather) and managed by her uncle, and the tea set was memorable because it was so unusual and fancy for that place and time. But it was rarely used because it was too impractical for the farm. It was something only for special occasions.

Prior to having tea with Mom and Grandma yesterday, my memories of this tea set were limited to seeing it always on the top shelf of Mom's china cabinet. It was so pretty and shiny, which made it eye-catching, but I never saw it used. The pieces are light and delicate, like egg shells.

Not that I expect it to be valuable or anything, but because I was curious, I went online trying to find information about the company that made it, James Studio China. However, I only found a few eBay listings for random cups and creamers of other patterns. Nothing like our blue set. So I thought I'd post pictures of it here, in the hopes that someone who might have information about it would stumble across this post and contact me, to satisfy my curiosity.

The set includes a teapot, creamer, sugar bowl, six teacups, six saucers, and six dessert plates. Not all pieces of the set are shown here, but this ought to give you an idea.

The glaze on the outside is iridescent blue with a red and yellow flower pattern, possibly poppy. The inside of each cup, as well as the creamer and sugar bowl, is iridescent gold.

On the bottom of each piece is the artist's palate logo for James Studio China, Japan.

Cardinal Ornament

2009-02-22T19:06:00.002-06:00

Here is a cardinal ornament I made for my mother's birthday present. From beak to tail, it's about as long as my thumb.

Crazy Things People Do While Driving

2009-02-17T16:30:00.000-06:00

While at a stoplight on my way home from work, I noticed flashes of bright orange falling to the wet, dingy pavement beside the dark green Grand Am in front of me. They were bits of orange peel being thrown from the window. When the light changed and traffic began moving again, the driver did not set aside his snack. For several blocks, bits of orange peel continued to fly out of his window.

Needless to day, he was also having some difficulty staying in his lane. At least twice, I thought I would be witness to an accident, when he crossed the line into an occupied lane.

Three Movie Reviews

2009-02-14T08:55:00.004-06:00

I'll say Happy Valentine's Day, although this post has nothing to do with Valentine's Day or romance.

Turns out Khuntami was right after all. We had quite a snow yesterday. I took the day as vacation, which was just as well; the university closed early because of the storm, so I would have only been able to work a half-day even if I had gone in. To occupy me during the snow day, I checked out a pile of movies from the library. (Why yes, I am avoiding working on my novel.)

First, I watched Bonnie and Clyde, the 1967 film with Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway. This tells the more-or-less true story of Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker, notorious Depression Era bank robbers. One of my coworkers warned me that it was violent and bloody. And it was, but only when necessary. I never felt the violence was gratuitous or inappropriate. Given the subject matter, it was spot on--not too little, not too much, but just right. The movie was as true to history as any Hollywood film is, which is to say it took a lot of liberties. But that's okay--it was an excellent story. The blurb on the back of the case says the film "balances itself on a knife-edge of laughter and terror," but I found it neither comedic nor horrifying, just realistic. Like real life, it was a peculiar mixture of light and dark. It was suspenseful and thrilling, and at times sweet. Bonnie and Clyde were in love, and in the spaces between the robberies and murders, there was palpable tenderness between them. It was a masterful film.

The second DVD I watched was O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000), another tale of Depression Era miscreants, this one minus all the violence. Three prisoners escape from a chain gang and go in search of buried treasure, the loot from a bank robbery. The movie was professed to be based on Homer's The Odyssey, and while many key elements were present, such as the blind prophet, the sirens, and the cyclops (who took the form of a one-eyed Bible salesman), it could really only be said to be based on The Odyssey in the same way that The Lion King was based on Hamlet. The humor ranged from wickedly clever to plain stupid, but overall, it was a very enjoyable comedy. And it had a happy ending, which was a plus after Bonnie and Clyde.

The third DVD I watched was something completely different, a film I'd never heard of before, Billy Elliot (2000). The youngest son of a coal mining family goes to boxing lessons, with gloves that had been his father's and grandfather's before him. Unfortunately, he's absolutely terrible at boxing. He is left alone to practice with the punching bag until he gets it right. When he goes to drop off the building keys with the ballet instructor in the other room, she dares him to try ballet. He does, and he likes it. While pretending to attend boxing lessons, he secretly goes to ballet class instead. Eventually, his father finds out, and is not pleased. Then Billy has to make a hard choice, but his father also has to make a hard choice. This film is both funny and beautiful. And music is used very effectively throughout the film--both classical and rock music, for the different parts of Billy's life. Every song choice was perfectly suited to the scene. I can find nothing negative to say about this movie; it was superb.

Hungry, Hungry Puma, and Others

2009-02-10T21:02:00.005-06:00

I took a walk at the zoo after work today. The weather was so beautiful today, I had to wonder if Khuntami was wrong about there being six more weeks of winter (well, five now).

The octopus was hanging out on the glass. Seeing all those suction cups makes me hungry for takoyaki. Mmm.

This threesome of horseshoe crabs walked from one end of their tank to the other, then back again, without disengaging from one another.

The swan was not shy about getting into the mob of koi for a chance at the food I was throwing off the bridge.

This mountain lion was hungry. A small child ran in front of the cage, and the puma chased him--back and forth, back and forth. This went on for a while. When the family finally moved on to look at the tigers, the puma stood stock still in the corner of his cage, gaze locked on the child until the kid passed from view. He wanted that kid. Oh, how he wanted that kid.

I believe this is the same cougar who was captured here in Omaha a few years ago. (Not out at the edge of town either, but in the vicinity of 114th and Dodge Streets.) He's a lot smaller than the other mountain lions at the zoo, because he was born and raised in the wild. It was certainly a game to the child and his laughing parents, but not to this imprisoned hunter. The frustration on his face was evident. (Not so much in this picture, which was taken after the kid left and reflects a more "well, easy come, easy go" attitude.)

Sword of the Stranger

2009-02-08T09:12:00.003-06:00

I saw the anime movie Sword of the Stranger this week. I had never heard of it before. I went with a friend, because we always like to support any anime that comes to theaters in our area, even if it's something we've never heard of. And for whatever reason, not only had we never heard of this film, we also couldn't remember its title to save our lives. Even when we got to the theater, we were asking for tickets to "Sword of the . . . Samurai? Uh, Sword of the Something, anyway." The fact that the theater abbreviated it to Sword of S on the signage and ticket stubs didn't help much.

Despite the unmemorable title, Sword of the Stranger turned out to be a very good movie. The animation was superb, an absolute masterwork of hand-drawn animation in an era when almost everyone is making their movies with cheaper, faster computer animation. A fishing net hanging in the wind was animated so beautifully it looked real, and the blowing snow effects were amazing. And, of course, being a samurai film, there was no shortage of incredible fight scenes with few survivors.

Set in feudal Japan, the story featured a young boy and his dog, fleeing from a group of Chinese warriors and one giant, blond-haired, blue-eyed barbarian. The boy was chosen by prophecy, and his blood would grant immortality if he were sacrificed at exactly the right time in exactly the right way. The rather obnoxious kid and his very clever dog escape, and they end up sheltering in the same abandoned house as a quiet ronin with no name and a dark past. The villains attack; the ronin saves the kid's life, and the dog saves the ronin's life. It's really the dog that holds the man and boy together, and when the enemies manage to capture the boy, the ronin and the dog go to heroic lengths to save him. Meanwhile, the political pressure builds between the Japanese lord, his ambitious shogun, and their Chinese guests, culminating in an epic, bloody battle.

The plot seemed like kind of standard samurai genre fare, but even if the story wasn't groundbreaking and the characters were rather stereotypical, it was nice to see a standalone anime movie that wasn't connected to a TV series or manga. It was thoroughly enjoyable.

Turkey-maki

2009-02-03T19:47:00.005-06:00

I was discussing food with two of my coworkers today. One of them, who is normally the type who is willing to try any food, has never had sushi. The other coworker, like me, loves sushi. We explained that sushi does not necessarily involve raw fish. Slices of raw fish are sashimi. The requirement for sushi is actually the style and preparation of the rice. There are many types of sushi that contain cooked fish, or no fish at all. My favorite of the latter type is tamago, that wonderful slice of egg custard bound to the rice with a thin strip of nori. Mmm. But I digress.

We talked about several of the American types of rolled sushi. The California roll is probably the best known, but I'm partial to the Philadelphia roll, which contains smoked salmon and cream cheese. I've also experienced the strange glory that is the Nebraska roll, which features beef and asparagus. We talked about how you can put nearly anything in a sushi roll. And I thought about what I happened to have in the fridge right now, which is not much--just sandwich fixins. But when I half jokingly said I could make turkey and spinach sushi, they both said it sounded good. And so I decided to try it for supper. That thought sustained me through the rest of the workday, and now here I am.

It came out pretty well. I used shaved deli turkey, fresh salad-grade spinach, and a shred of mozzarella string cheese. I call it turkey-maki. The combination of sweet vinegary rice and salty nori is more pleasant in both flavor and texture than bread, so it turns out that I like this much better than a sandwich filled with the same ingredients. Well, okay, in a sandwich, I'd use a slice of provolone instead of mozzarella, but it's the same idea. Although, I think the cheese ended up being superfluous. I may leave it out next time.

Here are the ingredients laid bare. I've been taught two different ways of making rolls, by two different Japanese people (so I consider both "authoritative"). One method is to wet the bare edge of nori with water to seal the roll like an envelope, the other is to make a thin dotted line of rice grains to glue the roll together. Tonight I opted for the latter. Your mileage may vary.

And here are the uncut rolls. If I did this more often, I'm sure they'd be neater. But I haven't made sushi in at least a year, so I'm terribly out of practice.

And here is the final product. Again, if I did this more often, I'm sure they'd be cut more evenly, and the insides would be swirled nicer instead of merely squished as they are. But even if they're not beautiful, they are delicious.

Groundtiger Day

2009-02-02T17:01:00.003-06:00

Well, the four-footed, furry meteorologists are in agreement. Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, and Khuntami the tiger chose the white box. We're in for six more weeks of winter.

It may be small consolation, but at least Khuntami deliberated his decision long and hard. Must have been a tough call.

Yes! I'm a Genius!

2009-01-15T17:38:00.004-06:00

Okay, maybe not. But it's nice that someone thinks so, even if that someone is a computer program that automatically analyzes writing samples.

Analyze your own blog or any website with The Blog Readability Test.

A few more short posts like this, where I do nothing but point to other sites, and I'm certain my rating will drop.

New Technology Shall Destroy Our Way of Life!

2009-01-12T18:26:00.003-06:00

This is for all those people who still believe that e-books will destroy print books:

Stephen's Lighthouse: Telephones will hurt churches

Articles from the 1800s predicting that the telephone would be the downfall of churches and concert halls, and in turn that the phonograph would destroy the telephone. Funny stuff.

Awesome Dragon

2009-01-09T17:05:00.002-06:00

Dragon cake
Originally uploaded by Astro-Lopithecus

Can you guess what this is? Can you?! It's a CAKE! This is the most amazing cake I've ever seen! Visit Flickr to see this cake from other angles and in various stages of being eaten.

I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles

2009-01-08T19:14:00.015-06:00

I've been playing with the Amazing Circles image generator over at Dumpr. I loaded in a bunch of my vacation photos from my 2005 Czech Republic trip and made bubbles out of them. I really like the effect. Enjoy!

A Fair(y) Use Tale (NOT a Disney movie)

2009-01-06T19:40:00.005-06:00

If you have any interest in copyright law, watch this video!

A Fair(y) Use Tale (NOT a Disney movie)

Using tiny clips from numerous Disney movies, this short film created by Eric Faden is the single best explanation of copyright and fair use I have ever seen. It is absolutely brilliant. It should be shown in every school in America.

YouTubing

2009-01-05T21:34:00.003-06:00

Now that I have DSL, I've been wasting a lot of time watching YouTube videos. And a lot of it truly has been wasted time, but here are a couple of shining gems that are worth sharing.

Cat lovers should not miss An Engineer's Guide to Cats. Also worthwhile, even though the election is long past, is the sequel, An Engineer's Guide to Voting (Ginger Cat for President). Trust me, the aerial cat fight is worth it.

Movie lovers should enjoy 100 Movies, 100 Quotes, 100 numbers. Someone put in a heck of a lot of work on this cinematic countdown. Can you identify all of the movies shown? I know quite a few of them, but not even close to all.

Enjoy!

Maple-Bacon Lollyphile

2008-12-31T16:14:00.002-06:00

Among other things, I received a pair of unusual lollipops for Christmas. I had the first one of them today. The flavor? Maple-bacon. And the flavor is not chemically constructed, as with certain jelly beans. The lollipop was a disc of maple candy with crumbles of actual bacon suspended through it.

And it was fantastic! The flavor was amazing and wonderful, because it was pure and genuine. The texture was very interesting. Most of the bits of bacon were very tiny, which as they emerged from the maple made the surface of the lollipop feel a bit like sandpaper. The largest chunks of bacon were soft and meaty.

Your mileage may vary, of course. But if you like smearing your bacon through the leftover maple syrup from your pancakes, you'll probably like this lollipop.

They are made by Lollyphile. Apparently they only make three flavors of candy at present: absinthe, maple-bacon, and wasabi-ginger. I do not have one of the absinthe-flavored ones, but I will report on the wasabi-ginger one when I eat it.

Addendum 7/19/2010: I know I promised to report on the wasabi-ginger lollipop, but the truth is I never ate it. It got misplaced, and then it got wet. I found it in my cupboard, misshapen and kind of gross looking. I'm kind of disappointed, because I'll probably never have another chance to try one. But oh well. That's how things go sometimes.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T07:56:00.003-06:00

Merry Christmas from me, my cats, and my itty-bitty Christmas tree! Peace be with you!

And I Shall Name Him Takoyaki

2008-12-22T18:25:00.003-06:00

Check out this adorable amigurumi octopus my friend made for me for Christmas. It's very huggable.

More Little Critters

2008-12-18T15:27:00.004-06:00

Here are the dragons I made for my nephews' Christmas gifts.

And here is the manticore I made for my dad.

I'd never made a manticore before, but I think it came out reasonably well. The main problem is that manticores have human faces, and I completely suck at making anything resembling a human, so he looks rather more like a gargoyle. But he's still kind of cute. I'm rather pleased with his spiky mane.

Nearest Book meme

2008-12-05T16:17:00.002-06:00

"dribbling violation: steps, traveling, walking"
Flip Dictionary, Barbara Ann Kipfer. Writer's Digest Books, 2000.

Rules:
* Get the book nearest to you. Right now.
* Go to page 56.
* Find the 5th sentence.
* Write this sentence - either here or on your blog.
* Copy these instructions as commentary of your sentence.
* Don't look for your favorite book or your coolest but really the nearest.

(My quote probably would have been a lot more interesting if the nearest book to me hadn't been a reference tool.)

I caught this meme from The Travelin' Librarian. Pass it on. And if your nearest book is a juicy novel (or not), post your sentence in the comments section (if you feel like it).

Happy Fangsgiving

2008-11-26T19:44:00.002-06:00

A Vampire's Thanksgiving
by Anj

She went to the door after the second ring of the bell, expecting her boyfriend, but instead she found a thin stick of a boy she didn't recognize. He was about twelve, thirteen at most, and pretty weird looking, with ghostly pale skin, white hair that hung past his hips, and shining red eyes. His tattered jeans and filthy tennis shoes seemed at odds with his crisp, new-looking southwestern print hoodie. He smiled as though he could see right through her, mumbling, "You look just like her," as he slowly trailed his gaze down her body.

She blocked the doorway, wondering what a child was doing out this late. "Was there an accident? You need a phone?"

"No. I'm here to visit your mother."

She leaned back inside and shouted up the stairs, "Mom! There's an albino kid here to see you!"

Her mother didn't answer. She trotted over to the bottom of the stairs and yelled louder, "Mom!" She glanced back at the kid, who stood in the doorway, studying her with that strange disconcerting smile on his face. Was he on something? Those glazed eyes and that freakishly intense, yet somehow dazed, expression on his face would seem to indicate yes.

But there was nothing to him. He didn't look strong enough to carry a twelve-pack of pop five yards. If he tried anything, she was sure she could take him. "Why are you standing there letting all the heat out?"

"I can't come in unless you invite me."

She scoffed in the back of her throat. "What are you a vampire or something?"

"Yes." He grinned. His teeth did look a little sharp.

Still, that was crazy. No, he was just some nut. Probably one of her mother's "special" students. "Whatever. Come in and close the door. My folks will freak if the heating bill is any higher this month." She turned again to the stairway. "Mom!"

She faced the kid again as the door clicked closed. He stood very still in the middle of the room, hands tucked into the large pocket on the front of the hoodie. She wished he'd stop smiling like that. It made her faintly queasy. She wished she hadn't let him in.

Finally her mother appeared at the top of the stairs. "What is it?"

The girl pointed at the freak. "This kid came to see you."

Her mother furrowed her brow for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Oh. My." She cleared her throat as she descended. "How have you been?"

"Surviving." There was a faint edge of amusement to the boy's voice. "You?"

"Fine." She looked at her daughter. "Weren't you going to the midnight movie?"

"My ride's not here yet."

"Why don't you wait outside?" Her mother sounded faintly anxious, underneath a failed attempt to appear calm.

"Maybe I shouldn't leave you alone with . . ."

"We'll be fine. Go outside."

Lights flashed in the window, and a car pulled into the driveway.

Her mother smiled. "There he is. Go on."

The girl took her jacket from the middle peg of the rack. "Maybe I should skip the movie . . ."

Her mother shooed her with both hands. "Go on. Don't keep him waiting."

"Will you be here when I get back?" She really wished her other mom wasn't out of town tonight.

Her mother nodded. "I expect so."

She barely refrained herself from asking, "Will you be alive?" Instead, she stepped close to her mother and whispered, "I shouldn't have let him in, should I?"

"It's okay. Scoot, now. Have fun."

Fat chance of that. But she let her mother push her out the door. The click of the lock between them echoed with finality.

* * * * *

She looked at the boy, feeling the tug of nostalgia, tainted with regret. He had not aged visibly in thirty years. She tried to remember how he'd looked when he'd been human. The boy next door, her playmate since preschool. Curly red hair, like copper coils. Green eyes. Freckles spangled across his pink nose and cheeks.

No trace of freckles on that eggshell white face now.

It was her fault he'd been taken. She wondered if regarded her with blame or gratitude.

"She looks so much like you." He nodded toward the door.

"You think so?" She shook her head. "I expect she'll have her boyfriend drive her around the block, then drop her off so she can spy on us. I think she's worried."

"Of course she is. I told her what I am."

"Ah."

"I watch you sometimes."

"Oh?"

"My family is gone, so you're the one I . . ." For the first time, his composure broke. He hunched his shoulders slightly and looked at the floor. "I used to pretend you were my sister. Now . . . you're all grown up, and I . . . I pretend you're my aunt, now."

"It must be very lonely for you." She wondered where he lived. How he lived. She remembered seeing him in the cemetery once, years ago, perched between the grotesques on the roof of the mausoleum. Was that his home?

Well, then. While he'd been hiding in a graveyard, she'd had a good life. The kind of life he could never enjoy. She owed him. She understood.

She embraced him tenderly. Cupping her hand on the back of his head, she pressed his face to her throat. Might as well get it over with.

His cold lips pressed on the side of her neck. She felt the cool, clammy moisture as he opened his mouth. His fangs scraped lightly over her jugular.

Then he stepped away. She'd never felt a prick. She touched her neck, then checked her fingertips. No blood.

He tucked one hand back into the hoodie pocket. "I don't feed on people. I never have." He pointed vaguely to the north. "I go to that big farm outside town. The cows are marked with numbered ear tags, so I can make sure I'm not taking from the same ones too often."

"Oh." Embarrassment washed over her like a hot flash.

"You have a live turkey in your back yard."

She nodded. "That's for tomorrow . . . oh!" She understood, for real this time. He was here for dinner after all.

She took his hand and led him through the house, out the back door.

He glanced up at her, smiling broadly. His red eyes glowed softly. "Is it the right day yet?"

She glanced at her luminescent watch. "Two minutes after midnight."

He rubbed his hands together. "May I?"

She gestured toward the small wire enclosure with the turkey. "Drain it dry." As he pulled open the fence, she added, "Happy Thanksgiving."

Scrutinizing My Wellness

2008-11-13T06:36:00.000-06:00

I'm beginning an experiment today. Don't know if I'll have the wherewithall to stick with it long term. But I keep saying, "I need to cut back on lattes. I need to stop getting candy bars and chips from the vending machine. I need to exercise regularly. I need to this, that, and th'other." And I never manage to ditch the bad habits or stick with the good ones. But I'm sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, so I'm going to document everything in an attempt to shame myself into living better.

The Rules

1) Write down everything I eat or drink.
-- Water is exempt--no calories.

2) Write down all exercise.
-- Pacing around my apartment and playing on the Wii do not count as exercise, unless I acquire Wii Fit.

3) Write down creative activities (mental exercise).

4) Keep track of money spent.

5) Write down anything else that seems relevant to my well-being.

6) Document my general health and physical complaints, including any medicine taken.

Don't worry, I won't blog my diet or exercise record. No one cares but me. I'm only posting the rules in case any of you want to play along.

PWF?

2008-11-08T07:03:00.006-06:00

Mom and I drove to Kansas on Thursday for the heartbreaking funeral of a wonderful cousin who was only 40 and left us far too soon.

Along the way, we missed a turn at Beatrice, Nebraska. In an attempt to get back on a road that lead to Fairbury, we ended up on a little rural highway that didn't seem to have a name. It was only labeled "PWF." We never saw any clues as to what this might mean, and I haven't had much luck with Google. The road was paved, but narrow and shoulderless. Most of it was still the old pink pavement (which is getting pretty rare), much patched with cement and asphalt. We were on this road for a good thirty miles, and we only encountered seven other vehicles, including the guy driving his combine in the corn field. It was the ultra-scenic route. Compared with the interstate, which is so high up, with such wide shoulders and ditches, on a road like this, everything seemed so very close. And it really was beautiful, with all the reds and golds across the landscape.

So, anyone out there know what PWF stands for? "Public Way to Fairbury"? "Pretty Weird and Far-out"? "People With Farms"? Actually, I'd like to know the real meaning, but I welcome humorous guesses, too.

Quasi-related, we also saw a blue water tower labled "Little Blue NRD." Now I know NRD stands for Nebraska Rural District, but for all the world it looked like "Little Blue Nerd."

Addendum 11/11/08: My mom found it: Public Works & Facilities. That's not nearly as interesting as I'd hoped, but there it is.

Addendum 1/8/09: A kind Fairbury native (kjvaughn) corrected me. PWF stands for "Pawnee City, Wymore, Fairbury," the three towns connected by that road. Locals, however, say it means "Poorest Way to Fairbury."