Talking to the Walls

The Wasteland as Expressed through a Salon and Hairstylists

2010-03-19T12:53:00.000-07:00

Ever get the feeling that the person who cuts your hair has stopped seeing you? I mean, really SEEING you? You've been going to them long enough that they now think of you as an assembly part on the conveyor belt: their eyes are tired, they've been looking at heads of hair all day long, and your hair is just another batch they have to cut?

That's how I start to feel if I don't change things up.

A few years ago, in college, I went to this chick, let's call her Kimberly (most girls who cut hair have names that end in a long /e/ sound, am I wrong?). We always exchanged the usually pleasantries. She told me the names of her kids in the pictures surrounding the mirror at her station. I pretended to care. Maybe I did care, I don't know. It's hard to get attached to a picture. Pictures tell you nothing about a person, especially posed pictures. I mean, a picture of someone doing something, like walking along railroad tracks? That tells you something. That tells you the person is trite and uncreative—the exact opposite of what they intended the image to express: thoughtfulness and depth, an understanding of the intricacies of transition and the movement of life (the railroad tracks are a metaphor!).

Anyway, Kimberly was great. At first. She listened to the vast and deep desires I had for my hair. I explained my long prestigious college career with her. I cracked sarcastic jokes about the vagaries of college towns. I talked about my misgivings concerning hair and highlights. She listened with her fist to her chin, nodding at the appropriate times, scissors clenched in her fist (safely) away from her chin, brow furrowed. I came away looking like a New Woman.

Two years later, after keeping that relationship with Kimberly and never diverting much from the hair style I'd developed with her, I had a mullet. I had become Redneck Woman.

Mullets weren't yet back in—oh they're in now. I see women everywhere with the old mom Brady do, looking real stylish in their skinny jeans and tattoos. But that hadn't come into vogue yet. I got a lot of razzing for my mullet from my chic coworkers before I finally accepted that they were right, I had unintentionally developed a mullet.

Presently, I have a new hair person and that person is a guy. Our relationship started out great. It was almost love at first sight—hairstylist/client love, that is, a variety all its own. Communication regarding hair has now broken down, however, and I have no idea how to veer away from the path we've trod. When I try to steer him differently, he blinks and says, "Uh hmm, uh hmm," hands poised over my head, scissors ready to lop off two inches here and there until . . . unintentional mullet. AGAIN.

I say, "I want this part to be slantier. Pretend I'm going to wear it straight, not curled [I have naturally curly hair], and then cut it like a pixie." He feigns understanding, and I sigh inwardly, knowing it's going to look the same way it did the last time, but not the way I long for.

I love my hair guy, but I see no way to break through this stalemate without hurting his feelings or finding a new stylist. I start to feel like we're just voices talking through each other, not hearing what the other is saying; our laughter is forced and false; the hug when we meet again is cold, merely a token of friendship intended to mask the reality: that I am just another detached head of hair and he a robot with scissors.

Change is futile, it seems. I have learned the hard way, through my relationships with hairstylists. If you and I should chance to meet after a few years of separation and I still have a mullet, know that I tried to break out of the cycle but the Universe has found a way to trap me in this rut. Thank you Universe! Thank you.

How Dragon Age: Origins Interferes with Real Life

2010-03-15T13:45:00.000-07:00

I made a huge mistake this weekend. I purchased and began playing Dragon Age: Origins. Game Informer reviewed it and said that it was awesome with the caveat that the PS3 version plays like a completely different game, therefore it only gets an 8 compared to the PC version's 9. I guess I should feel lucky because I don't know if I'd be able to pull myself away from the PC version, as it is I could go without sleeping, eating, and breathing just to play the PS3 version.

If you want to be great at anything, according to Malcolm Gladwell, you have to put in ten thousand hours to get there. You see how Dragon Age is interfering with that? And not just Dragon Age. The PS3 is interfering with all of that. You have no idea the time I've spent lamenting the gradual re-socialization back into regular society I've gone through since leaving college in 2004. First I let television back into my life, then it was reading books not having to do with my major, then it was marriage, then it was computer games and video games.

Ok, in all fairness, the marriage was good. And the books, they're good too because for reasons beyond me, reading does something healthy for a person—something television and film can never do. I don't know what it is, but I typically come away from a book feeling just a bit more intelligent. I never feel that way after watching an episode of "How I Met Your Mother," though I really love that show. And gaming is incredibly addicting and I feel that it IS rewarding in some ways, but . . . it's not healthy to be sitting here pondering what will happen next in Dragon Age and hoping to spend the next five or six hours finding out. Is it?

To be honest, I understand that I've really got to control this absurd desire. I wish I'd never gotten the game in a way, it's too good! I had Assassin's Creed II to get into still, and that was the plan, because I just finished Batman Arkham Asylum so I could trade it in (awesome game) and get a different game, which is where Dragon Age came in.

But what I want more than Assassin's Creed II and Dragon Age is to be the pied piper of writing. What? Yeah, I want hypnotize people with my mesmerizing stories so totally that they'll follow me off a cliff, but in a good way.

It's easy to look at people around you and see their success and think, "Man, they're so lucky." Ha ha ha! Reason tells you that the majority of people didn't just arrive somewhere satisfying in their career without a struggle, and reason is usually right. But man is it easy to think lazy thoughts like that. Even my thoughts are lazy! That's my main problem. Laziness. Which also contributes to my gaming addiction. Much, much easier to create a satisfying story by taking part in it, in a game.

I read an interview with Orson Scott Card about the Hidden Empire series and he spoke of his love for video games. He said he eventually had to give them up because they interfered with his writing. It's true. Life can interfere with the things that matter to you. You have to hold onto them and you have to think hard about them, otherwise you can easily get swept away in the current of prime time sitcoms and dramas, ridiculously awesome video games, and surfing the web.

I guess what I'm saying is that Dragon Age: Origins is an awesome game and it might just be my undoing. So good job to Bioware, you geniuses you. And also, sorry this post is all over the place. It's probably because I'm thinking about what's at the top of the mage tower. Will I be able to beat whatever's up there or should I have waited to be a higher level before doing the quest? Should I have killed that stupid blood mage or was it OK to let her live? I tend to be so merciful it's sick. I'll probably be killed by one of the characters I let go free—stabbed in the back in the midst of battle. Betrayal is so bitter!

Great Day for a Pilgrimage

2010-03-06T09:51:00.000-08:00

Spring days like this remind me of college, especially the years that I read the Canterbury Tales, which, looking back, seems like every year in college. I was in college for eight years. And what do I have to show for it?* Hahaha. Oh the humor, oh the enormous student loans.

If I could go back, of course I'd NOT take out student loans. But hey, who I am today has been shaped by the weight of those student loans. Right? It's a compression chamber. I'm stuck in it and I'm looking beautiful. The gray hair, the wrinkles, the advanced old age and I'm barely thirty! (I can still say that at 31, right?)

Well anyway, it's an awesome day and here I am at the a coffee house working on a short story, that is, I'm not outside enjoying this absolutely GORGEOUS day. I've been extremely absent from blogging and at this point, I don't feel like a moron when I tell you that it's largely because I've spent every spare writing minute working on a novel. And now I have two novels, and it only took me . . . three years to get to this point. Three? Or two? I'm not about to try to figure out the exact length of time on that, but you'll understand when I say that spare time doesn't just happen. A person has to rob other parts of their life to get it, and when one does that, whatever one uses that time for better be for a good cause.

Maybe it was different for you, but when I was in elementary school, there was a spot on my report card for a grade regarding time. It read like this: "Uses time wisely." And I think we were given a number grade, like 1 for good, 2 for ok, 3 for "thinks eating paste is a good use of time." I never stop hearing that terrible voice in my head (your report card didn't have a lording tone to it? Hm. Weird. Mine did.), "Uses time wisely." And I'm constantly being judged. I can't even sit down to play Assassin's Creed II on a Saturday morning without hearing the damning echoes of the elementary school report card all around me. Back in elementary school, I think I always got 1s on "Uses time wisely" because I ruled in elementary school. If only it had carried over into the rest of my life.

But it didn't and that's why I'm using one of the most perfect Saturdays of the year to sit indoors and finish a short story. I could be halfway to Canterbury Cathedral by now. I could be laughing my pants off at the Wife of Bath and her gap-toothed smile. I could be spinning my own tale of tragedy, romance, or heroism, and maybe I could win. Well, I guess sitting in a coffeehouse, writing a short story is the closest any of us will get to a story-telling contest on the way to a holy shrine.

Yes, I'll sit here while others laze about in the sun, soaking up the rays and reading the paper, and others roll leisurely by on their bicycles. I'll just pretend I'm going to win a contest. I'll just tell my story-telling guts out. Maybe I WILL win and this day won't have been a waste after all.

*Just this:

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote/ The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote, / And bathed every veyne in swich licour, / Of which vertu engendred is the flour; / Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth / Inspired hath in every holt and heeth / The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne / Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, / And smale fowles maken melodye, / That slepen al the night with open ye, / (So priketh hem nature in hir corages: / Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, / And palmers for to seken straunge strondes, / To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes; / And specially, from every shires ende / Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, / The holy blisful martir for to seke, / That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.

Beautiful? I know. Thank you, Geoffrey, thank you. Worth eight years of my life? No argument there.

Gaile Owens, Death Row, and Abuse

2010-03-05T12:32:00.000-08:00

Abuse is a weird thing. It's hard to understand it if it's never happened to you, it's hard to imagine that people you know and love might be experiencing it, and it's even more difficult to assess a situation where abuse is happening and make a judgment on it.

I come from a line of strong women. Frontier women, pioneer women who dealt with hostile natives (not to pass judgment on native peoples, but you know what I mean), survivors who did what they had to do. So of course I look at a situation where a woman has been abused and has stayed in the situation and think, "What? Why would she put up with that? Why wouldn't she stand up for herself? She must be weak."

I'm not going to share the details of the situations in my family where it came to light that there was abuse happening, but it did, and it was shocking and upsetting, and I experienced rage like I've never known before. The women in my family, my sisters and my mother, are tough. They eat nails for breakfast and pick their teeth with machetes. But they're also the kind of women who stick to their guns, which would explain why a bad situation could escalate.

All I know is that after my experience with abusive husbands, I feel compelled to rush to the defense of Gaile Owens. This is a woman in Tennessee who is on death row for arranging the murder of her abusive husband in 1985. She's 57 now and has been in prison since then. The state attorney general's office is asking the Tennessee Supreme Court to set a date for her execution. There are many details about this, but I won't list them all here. To read more about it, visit the Friends of Gaile website, read about it, sign the petition if you disagree, write about it, share it with your friends, and do all this even if you don't live in Tennessee.

It's unjust, as I see it. I'm not opposed to the death sentence and there are times when I feel that it may be the most merciful thing for a criminal for various reasons I don't care to go into right now. I don't think murder is justified, but as her defense points out, what kind of escape existed for an abused woman in Memphis in 1985? Was there somewhere she could run to for protection? Things like that exist now. But I don't think they did then. And what about Mary Winkler? Remember Mary Winkler? She murdered her husband, ran away, and eventually was acquitted of the murder.

What I'm saying is that the justice is not equal. Gaile Owens pled guilty to the charges after accepting a prosecutor's offer to do so in exchange for a life sentence. I can hear you, yes, you're saying, "What's that? You mean, they did the old bait and switcheroo?" Yeah, they did. Sounds like dirty politics to me. It's just shameful.

Well anyway, all her defense is asking for is that Gaile's sentence be commuted to a life sentence and not death. I hope for the best. I hope Tennessee doesn't end up with Gaile's death on its hands, because I don't want it and I live here too.

I Demonstrate the Inherent Power of Cher's "Heart of Stone"

2009-10-23T08:52:00.000-07:00

Cher's "Heart of Stone" is probably one of the greatest songs to come out of 1989. It rocks. It aches. It rhymes. And it has tambourine. It has everything (no cowbell, but tambourine is as good as cowbell). I'm going to dissect it to prove how poignant it is:

Begins with an excellent acoustic guitar being strummed in a heartfelt manner.

Cher: "Beneath the white fire of the moon, loves wings are broken all too soon."

Obviously this sets up the story. The setting, if you will. The protagonist is clearly pondering the fate of her love beneath the full moon. It doesn't say it's a full moon. I'm taking literary license here. Usually a moon is full when someone thinks to remark about the amount of light its giving off. So, we have the moon and it's night and the wings of love have been broken. So we have a bird. No, no, not a bird; love, love is a bird. The bird of love has been grounded, thus the dream has been broken.

So the protagonist is regarding the landscape of the night, musing about the moon, and realizing the dream has been lost. It's a nice scene, established in two short lines. Good metaphors and such. Also, I really like that the moon has "white fire." That's fantastic crap right there.

Cher: "We never learn. [begin tambourine] Hurt together, hurt alone. Don't you sometimes wish your heart was a heart of stone?"

So there we have the age old lament that "we never learn." It's true. Humans are worse than animals when it comes to learning. We struggle. We have hope. We return to the former things, the things that have hurt us, because of hope. Nicely done, Cher. It's always good to fall back on proverbial sayings and whatnot when you're making a statement. Right? Because they're universal.

And then the protagonist goes on pondering, more lamentation, the lovers in the song "hurt together, hurt alone." Also very true. When love ends, does either party win? No, unless of course one of the parties is abusive and then the one abused wins, good job in that case. But typically, both parties lose because the entire universe conspires to break lovers apart, and that seems to be acknowledged here in that short line when coupled with the next line, which says, "Don't you sometimes wish your heart was a heart of stone?" The unspoken content of that line is that hearts are always being broken and if only (if only!) the heart could be made of stone, it couldn't be broken and break ups wouldn't hurt. Right?

Next we have the introduction of more instruments, always a powerful moment in a song. The pause, then the drums come in and the electric guitar, and bass. Fantastic. Who doesn't love this type of song-furniture?

Cher: "We turn the wheel and break the chain. Put steel to steel and laugh at pain. We're dreamers in castles, made of sand. the road to eden's overgrown. Don't you sometimes wish you're heart was made of stone."

Now what Cher is doing is giving us some concrete images. Applause. Why? Because concrete images are always a good choice. So we have a wheel, and a chain, some steel, and then the only abstraction in those two lines, PAIN. Abstract emotions are nearly always weak, so when Cher prepares us with some actual hard, cold images, we feel the meaning of pain. Pain is a broken chain (like on a bicycle), steel on steel, ooh that's cold. Then pain. But not just any pain. Pain you laugh at sarcastically, like, ha ha, Pain, think you can hurt me?

Then we get another hearty helping of very good metaphors. Sand castles. Roads to paradise overgrown and difficult to traverse, i.e., we're never going to make it, this is bull crap, why even try? That sort of thing. Works very well. Also, very sarcastic. As though to say, "What, you don't think love is worth it? Fine. Let me just mock what we had and by the way, I wish my heart was made of stone."

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

Then we have the chorus. It's an interesting chorus. Not your typical chorus. The first chorus has some interesting, not-boring drum fills and cymbal crashes.

Cher: "Look at the headlines: Big crowd at the crazy house, long queue for the joker's shoes, ten rounds in the ring with love, do you lose and win, oh, oh win and lose."

Ok, this part is very confusing. I'm not sure what the protagonist is trying to say here, except that only insane people put themselves through love, and if that's true, then bravo because it's VERY effective. VERY. I don't know what the deal is with "look at the headlines" and in any case, the newspaper reference is tired. But I do enjoy the "long queue for the joker's shoes" and the reference to the boxing match with love. Yes, that's good. We all get that because most of us have been pummeled by love enough to empathize with the reference.

Cher: "Sweet rain like mercy in the night (lay me down, wash away the sorrow) caress my soul and set it right (lay me down show me your tomorrow) summer tears, winter, and the moments flown, don't you sometimes wish your heart was made of stone. Mercy mercy wish your heart was a heart of stone."

Oh man. This part is probably the crowning bit of the song. In my opinion. Cher's voice changes when she moves into the line "sweet rain like mercy in the night," leaving the chorus behind, and it makes sense because suddenly the protagonist is singing about redemption ("caress my soul and set it right"). The rain has come and covered the moon (presumably), and then we have the backing chorus going on a baptism type theme, and the rest of Cher's lines are like a prayer, almost. The rest of the section is about moving on, "summer tears, winter, and the moments flown." Nice. It's always effective to bring in the seasons to represent the passage of time. Very good.

Cher: "Get the picture? No room for the innocent, peak season in lonely town, knocked out of the ring by love, are you down and up, or up and down?"

Good images. Much like the previous chorus, only this time it's referencing a brochure for a vacation trip, but the catch is, it's the off-season. No one wants to be in Jackson Hole or Sun Valley during the summer. Lonely town (unless of course you're there for the mountain biking, but that's easily ignored in my case). And instead of just being IN the ring with love, the protagonist has been knocked OUT of the ring. That was a killing blow, my friends.

Cher: "I ask the river for a sign, (in a dream, we go on together) well how long is love supposed to shine? (in a dream, diamonds are forever) but you and I, we hurt together, hurt alone! Don't you sometimes wish your heart was a heart of stone? Mercy mercy, wish your heart was a stone."

In this section Cher really belts it out. With emotion. It's loaded. She's the protagonist, it suddenly seems, she's truly looking to that river for a sign. I assume this river was always part of the song's landscape, and since she's just been baptized by the rain and a river, it makes sense that there's a river. And Cher sees that in a dream things could have been different, the lovers could have been together and the ring of promise (the diamond) actually kept the love true. But alas! The dream fades and the reality is that the relationship is over. They hurt at the same time and wish there was no pain.

Ahhhh, weak mortals. But without all that pain, songs as great as "Heart of Stone" wouldn't exist. And how gloomy a world would be without love songs, break up songs, and songs of redemption! I believe, my friends, that I've successfully proven my point, that "Heart of Stone" is an awesome song, full of excellent metaphors and imagery, and not only that, it's Cher! Cher! Of course, my words can hardly do it justice. You must listen to it to really feel the greatness. I'm particularly fond of the backing chorus during the redemption sections. Fabulous!

Infamous and Flying in Video Games

2009-09-16T12:06:00.000-07:00

Infamous is a fantastic game. I became addicted immediately upon playing the demo. The reason? Like the levitation skill in Morrowind, the Infamous developers wisely gave the character Cole the ability to float using electricity. After I completed the demo, I had dreams I was Cole, floating down from the tops of buildings, some kind of guardian angel bringing justice in my wake, zapping the bad guys (known as Reapers and Dustmen), and resuscitating victims of the plague.

Not to complain, but Bethesda (the developer of Morrowind and Oblivion) was stupid to exclude the levitation skill when they created Oblivion, the sequel to Morrowind. Flying, floating, gliding, levitating -- these are magical abilities that no game should lack. As I marvel at my addiction to Infamous, and I observe the formation of an attachment to the new Batman game (which utilizes the Bat's ability to glide), I see a common thread. I feel no strange addictions to Oblivion (no levitating), yet the passion endures for Morrowind (levitation).

I understand it all now. Flying is the key. When Bethesda decided to scratch levitation from the list of skills for the incredibly forgetful world in Oblivion, they were essentially demoting the title from awesome to crapsome.

Man has dreamed of flight since his first glimpse of a bird taking to the sky. Do you remember your nightly dreams? If you do, which dreams are the best? Did you say flying dreams? I know you said flying dreams because those are the best dreams. They're about freedom, escape, joy, and power, and so much more. Even if everything else in your life sucks, when you have a dream about being able to fly, the most magical thing happens in your soul -- something to do with hope and not being constrained by earth and all its woes.

The caveat here is that the flying-type skill must be in direct defiance to gravity. It can't be out in space. It also has to be in human form, it can't be a man flying in a jet or anything of that nature. Because the dream isn't to be trapped in a jet or any other contraption (though I thank you Wright brothers), it's to be a person who can fly. Or float. Or levitate.

So anyway. That's the reason Oblivion, which could have been as awesome as Morrowind, failed to live up to its potential. It's why the new Batman game is next on my list, why Super Mario 3 was so amazing (the raccoon tail, remember?), and it's also why I had to buy Infamous immediately after playing the demo and having dreams about it.

The other night I was, of course, playing Infamous. I came to the quest where Cole must climb the tower of junk in the middle of the slum district with his friend Zeke. At this stage, the floating ability makes it possible to reach the highest platform, using a series of steel beams and discarded neon signs.

So as I was guiding Cole up the tower, Stoker was sitting next to me, watching, and I kept missing the last beam. I basically ran in circles enough to earn the Frequent Flyer Trophy (something for the online PS3 community) because I couldn't turn Cole to catch the beam just right. It was frustrating.

I probably went in circles ten or twelve times before I finally let Stoker take the controller to try it. He'd been watching, judging me to be an incompetent player I'm sure, thinking secretly (I'm sure), that he could do it--because that's what you do when you're watching someone else play a video game. You think, "Man are they an idiot? I could do it in like three seconds." Not that Stoker would EVER think me an idiot. But he was thinking, "I could do this. Piece of pie."

I gave him the controller and thought, "Good. Now he'll know how much skill it actually takes to master the floating ability and he'll have no choice but to admire me." I told him which buttons did what, and sat back to observe him as he failed to guide Cole to the top platform.

But he succeeded on his first try.

Now, you're probably thinking that I acted like a brat for being slightly humiliated--after all, Stoker hadn't played Infamous until that moment. I don't deny that I normally would have said something snide or excused my inability to accomplish this apparently easy feat with the complaint that my wrists were tired, or my thumb had started to hurt, or I had eye-fatigue. But I didn't do any of that, because you know what, sometimes it's cool to let other people be heroes.

Yes, I'm that great. I can let others feel that they're superior to me. But only because deep down, I KNOW that I'm the best.

Ha ha.

Stoker immediately gave the controller back to me, feeling very smug inside, I just know it. I said to him, "The floating ability is addicting, isn't it?"

And he said, "Yeah, it is." And there was a look of longing in his eyes to keep on floating. To glide down from incredibly high buildings, to grind across electrical wires between buildings and launch into the sky like a bird, and skate over monorail tracks like a human rail car. Oh yes. It's a great feeling.

Climate Change Is Good But Rackets Bother Me.

2009-09-08T08:38:00.001-07:00

Been awhile.

Things have been hectic. That's no excuse, I know, I know.

Summer's nearly over. I'm glad about that. Nashville is no place for summer. July wasn't so bad, because it was cool most of the month and it rained nearly every day. Thank goodness for that "cool Canadian air mass" that settled over the south. I'm pro-climate change if it's going to turn the south Mediterranean or Canadian or whatever.

I was about to write about this racket I've observed in Nashville, but then I thought better of it. I was about to expose an injustice, but it's only an injustice in my eyes I'm sure, and let's be honest, I'm no crusader. I'm always on the verge of being a crusader, but then I either get too lazy or too wise, I don't know which. I haven't the endurance to be a real crusader. I always fizzle.

But, boy, do rackets bother me.

P.S. I promise not to leave you for four months again.

Why Make Men Work for a Look? Just Give Them the Summer Dress and End the Charade.

2009-04-17T16:45:00.000-07:00

My friends, you can't believe how ecstatic I am to have summer dress season upon us. Already the girls are wearing them, strolling down streets with their breasts spilling out of the spaghetti strap nightmares. Every step they take nearly graces other passerbys with butt cheeks or more. Why even wear a dress at all? I ask you. Why not simply wear bra and underwear? Why not go a step further and simply take the mystery out of it and go nude?

What is the point of clothes, I wonder. It's simply an imagined commandment from a non-existent God (as we've begun to discover, after all). To paraphrase: and God fashioned clothes for them out of animal skins. See, it's been forced upon us by a figurative Creator. There's no reason for us to wear clothes. We are all enlightened enough by now to realize that the beauty and art of the human form should be shared and adored by everyone. It's simply a left over, prudish, Victorian edict that we cover ourselves. We're beyond that now. We now see how unhealthy the Victorian perspective was, how it perverted values and turned out a population of warped individuals who somehow naively believed that each person influenced society by their actions.

We've arrived, my friend. Here we are, in the modern century, where we now know that each man (and woman, let us not forget) IS an island. The ancients, the poets, the great thinkers of those backwards generations had it all wrong. What I do has no bearing on anyone else. If a woman wants to wear a thong and a bra as her daily attire, no one should raise a voice against her. I mean, who does that hurt? Really?

In fact, the other day I went shopping for some new lingerie because I'M going to really give the fashion world a shake. Remember the episode of Seinfield with the bra-less wonder? When Elaine gives Cindy Whoever a bra as a present and she wears it as a top? That's where I'm going. I've got the body for it, why not? I mean, I never feel so valued as when men ogle me. I love nothing more than to walk into a room and have every head turn and give me the once or twice over. It makes me feel so powerful.

Married men, old men, fathers with daughters, my own father, priests, gay men, I want them all to want me. Why stop there? I want all the women to want me too. There are no boundaries when it comes to sex appeal.

The truly enlightened individual does not need clothes out in the world. Society. Family. Self-respect. Any respect. None of these are required for true happiness. So let us unravel each of them.

A Narrow Miss

2009-04-03T10:20:00.001-07:00

Some people on Facebook were teasing me about hiding in the basement when the tornado sirens are going. And I admit it, I felt a little silly. But later on, when I was watching the news, I saw that a tornado had touched down uncomfortably close to my neighborhood.

I'm posting this here to show just HOW close. I've blacked out all the street names for my protection (of course). It took me hours to do this because I don't know much about Photoshop. I thought a funny and clever thing to do would be to change everything to Candyland names, but that would have taken me days to figure out, so forget about it.

Classics: App Heaven

2009-04-02T08:14:00.000-07:00

So far, the best app (I feel like such a dork when I say that) I've downloaded is the Classics app. When I bought it, it was .99 cents. What a bargain. Like ten books for .99 cents! They're classics, so, I mean if you found copies of them at a used book store you could probably get some of them for that much, but I'm talking about portability here.

My favorite author just did a review of the Kindle on his website, and it tempted me. But really there's no contest now. I have an Ipod Touch and I can put books on there! Smaller, more portable, and it makes a cool page turny sound when you turn the page BY TOUCHING THE SCREEN. And you turn back the page by swiping your screen in the other direction!

I am still in love with the magic of the touch screen, yes. It's very enthralling. I'm sorry, but that's the truth of it.

When you're done reading and you press the home button, it puts in a bookmark and then you go back to your bookshelf and there's your book, with a little red bookmark in it. It's beautiful.

I know it's weird to get excited about a virtual bookshelf and a program that disconnects me from the actual textures and sense of reading a book, because I'm very into the reality of books. But it's fun. It's different. And I have real copies of most of the books. But think of it. I'm on a long flight and I don't want to tote around ten books. Oh, look here, in my Ipod I have twelve books!

And I think they add more, and the additions are FREE once you've bought the app. I'm in heaven.

I Was Lying When I Said Agency Wars Is Cool Game

2009-04-01T18:14:00.001-07:00

Can I take back everything I said about Agency Wars? I take it back. What a rip! The game is worse than a "Choose Your Own Adventure" novel.

Let me explain why I now loathe it. I upgraded to the 250 version (this has to do with reward points. If you do that, you can buy a very powerful gun -- you need the gun because if you don't have it, you continuously get robbed and never make any money), but I accidentally hit the WRONG button on my Ipod and ended up with TWO of the same gun! (Because I got the gun that only cost 100 reward points, dumb choice I know). What's the good of two of the same gun*?!! AND I CAN'T SELL IT! So much for "superb in-game economics" or whatever their line is on their dumb App page. Also, you have the option of "buying a passport" when you travel so you don't "get assassinated."** These passports aren't cheap. I buy them. But I still get assassinated. Nice work. Jerks.

There you have it.

Enough about mind-numbing role-playing games***. For my birthday I bought all five of the Chronicles of Prydain. I was worried that I had been silly when I first read them and would find them lacking, like I sort of did with the David Eddings series the Belgariad when I tried to reread it during college. I began reading The Book of Three today (the first book in Prydain) and I am not disappointed. Maybe all those years studying English lit. have worn off and I am back to my normal self who can enjoy a good story. Ha ha. Sad, isn't it? How college can taint your world view and socialize you to be a cultural elitist with snobby opinions that are direct reflections of the opinions held by your professors?

I'm kidding, of course.

No, I'm kidding that I'm kidding. I want to go back for my PhD, but I fear that if I do, I'll be suffocated by the stupidity surrounding me.

*In the context of the game, two of the same gun is pointless. In real life, two of the same gun might be nice. I might like to have two AR-15s or two AK-47s or even TWO 1911s. But in this game, it's redundant and useless and even MORE of a waste of real life money than if I hadn't made a mistake and bought the more powerful of the high damage guns.
**Overuse of "scare" quotes intentional to illustrate irritation about game company's lies.
***Here's a question: why do I even WANT to play those games when I have a PS3? Or a computer and can play Guild Wars? I'm sick, that's what I am. Sick!

Agency Wars. M16 Agent #78930. Shaken, Not Stirred.

2009-03-30T08:11:00.000-07:00

Stoker told me last week he'd gotten a little something for my birthday and asked me to not look at the bank account. I thought, Ok, he's gotten me a book, or a video game, or tickets to the soccer game. Because it was a little something.

So the little something he gave me last Friday turned out to be an Ipod Touch. Excellent present and I haven't been able to stop caressing it and downloading apps and playing games on it. We're Verizon users and will never switch to AT&T and thus the Iphone is useless to me. But the Touch works for us. Stoker has one as well.

I'm addicted to Agency Wars.

It's a role playing game where you pick an agency, CIA, M16, KGB or one from a variety of others that I'd never heard of until yesterday, and then you go on missions for the agency. You earn money and buy weapons and sell weapons to other real life players. If you have the Iphone, you can apparently go to real time locations for missions--I assume it's all legal and whatnot ha ha ha. I played it for too many hours yesterday and I'm embarrassed about it, and all I have to show for it is that I'm a level 13.

One of the first things I did was try to attack Jungmaster, a level twenty million or something. As you can probably imagine, there was really no contest. He had some outrageous gun and I think I only had a measly handgun or something (in the game guns are one-offs, like a WaltheN PPK). Jungmaster won the fight and then of course he had to turn around and teach me a lesson by actually KILLING me. And it did teach me a lesson. Thereafter I only attacked other agents who were a level or two below me. Unfair, but I need the money and experience in order to rise in the ranks (new goal, reach level 30 million and kill Jungmaster).

It's not personal, it's business.

Others have attacked me and some of them have won. But I add them to my hitlist and if I ever surpass them in weaponry or by leveling, I get my revenge. Oh yes, I get revenge, my friend.

The interface of the game resembles one of those blue screen type programs you always see in detective/FBI/24 type shows. I doubt the real-life databases look like that (who knows?), but it lends an air of sophistication to the game despite reality, and in some ridiculous, romantic part of your brain, you feel like you COULD be a government spy engaging in espionage and other James Bond tom-foolery without actually being in danger. So you get all the good part of the fantasy sans the threat of death or torture. In short, I feel that the game rocks.

Yes. All morning I've been devising a way to get to a free WiFi location so I can check on my status. It seems that while offline, others can attack your agent and steal your money (JERKS!). What comes around goes around. Anyone who messes with me will be dealt with, I assure you.

On a different note, my main criticism is that their server kicks me off quite often. I could forgive this if the game was free (like Guild Wars), but since the full game is not free, I can't forgive it. Another improvement would be to enhance the in-game selling feature. To sell to other players, you simply list your price then the item disappears from your inventory. If the item is ever sold, the amount appears in your account. But you never hear for sure, and since you're constantly making money, it's hard to be certain if you've ever sold the item.

Anyway, as you can see the game is quite enthralling. For me anyway.

Add me (other agents know what that means. If you're not already an agent, become one and add me)*.

*What it means is that in the game, to do certain harder missions, you have to have a number of contacts. It's hard to make contacts because for some ridiculous reason, you can only add them with the agent number (or some other intrusive way like with an email address). Basically you have to go online and advertise your agent number in some way. So get the game and add me. And then we can do joint missions. Cassi, this means you.

Looking for a Scene from Superman, I Find Death Cab for Cutie

2009-03-23T14:07:00.001-07:00

I was thinking of downloading "Can You Read My Mind" because I'm almost 31 and old people such as myself like that kind of song, even though as a child we ridiculed it. But I agree. I mean, I'd wonder if Superman could read my mind too.

I wanted to watch the scene when Superman tells Lois that he has X-Ray vision because it seems like he tells Lois she's wearing pink underwear, but maybe I'm making that up. And I've always thought it ridiculous that Lois would wear pink underwear, if indeed it's true. Only dorks wear pink underwear. Pink is the worst color in the world unless it is part of the sunset, the sunrise, or in a flower (including blossoms). And I will sometimes make exceptions for really masculine men wearing pink, just because I find the contradiction appealing.

All I could find was this cool video. And I admit it, it gave me chills. Good love stories are enduring, right? I mean Superman gives up his powers to be with the woman he loves. You can't not let yourself be a little bit melted to think of that kind of sacrifice. Love is only gorgeous when it has made sacrifices. Indulgent love, love that has compromised its values for itself is hideous. I guess in that case it's not really love because real love IS sacrifice.

Anyway, this video was cool. I've no idea the true author, thanks to the endless chain of youtube copycats, but whoever did the editing made sure it was beautiful.

Recently Read: Posts from Goodreads Reviews "Chekhov: Selected Stories"

2009-03-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

There's something about Chekhov. I remember reading a review or an essay about him in The New Yorker a long time ago, back when I read the New Yorker (I don't anymore, pretentious jerks ha ha ha), and I remember finding it interesting. But I assumed that Chekhov would be a stuffy old bookish writer whose work I would find boring. And then I began reading, recently, some of Anna Karenina. Some sort of fever started in me to consume as much Russian literature as possible. So I bought this small used copy of Chekhov's work, the very edition you see here. The first story I read was "The Father." I read it quickly and then I read another story, "Peasants," and I was enthralled by his writing and the portrayals of the Russian people. He has such skill with language and my only regret is that I can't read his work in the original Russian.

At the same time I read A Moveable Feast by Hemingway (an amazing book), and I was very pleased to read his impressions of the Russians. He said of Chekhov that people had told him that Katherine Mansfield wrote great short stories, but once he had read Chekhov, Hemingway realized that Mansfield's stories were the equivalent of an old maid's tales (to recall from memory). One man's opinion. I have not read much Mansfield, but I can say that Chekhov is so widely read for a reason. I love his writing and have bought many more collections of his writing since then.

I'm not a huge fan of the short story genre, necessarily. But if you read his work it feels loosely strung together, a vast mural of the late 19th century Russia. It's quite beautiful.

My favorites so far are "Peasants," "He Understood," "The Dance Pianist,"In Exile," and "A Cure for Drinking."

Recently Read: Posts from Goodreads Reviews "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich"

2009-03-09T09:30:00.001-07:00

I loved it, even though I didn't give it five stars. I didn't give it five because at the end I wasn't blown away or something. The end just comes kind of natural like you'd expect, because it's the end of the day. And you know that Ivan is kind of like an animal now, and all he has are days and he doesn't think too hard about the future because if he did, he would go crazy. I've heard that Gulag is a very depressing story, this one is kind of a downer, but not like Gulag, probably. You end up loving Ivan because even amidst this horrible, completely undeserved sentence, he still has a heart and exhibits altruistic behavior.

Sometimes Solzhenitsyn's writing reminds me of Salinger, and I liked that. At times he would speak from this place of "the prisoners, the men" and show their rage at other prisoners who were messing things up for everyone else, or their rage at the injustice and stupidity of the warders. All you can think through the whole book is about how cold it is. Obviously the cold is a strong character, the main element shaping their lives, even stronger than the bastard communist government.

There were loads of things I liked about this story. I like Solzhenitsyn's writing style, although I have to admit I feel weird saying that, knowing he himself was a prisoner and this book was derived from that experience. But it's true, he's a good writer. I ended up liking Ivan, and pretty much all the characters except for Fetyukov, who we're not supposed to like because he's a vulture and a wimp.

I will probably read more of his books because of his skill with words. My big regret is that I can't read Russian and of all possible languages I would choose to learn for the sake of literature, Russian is the language I want to know. I checked it out and Rosetta Stone costs like a million dollars. I'm 30 and my brain is set in stone. Is there any hope?

Recently Read: Posts from Goodreads Reviews "Name of the Wind"

2009-03-09T09:26:00.000-07:00

Finished on February 20th:

Very good. I had some criticism but it was minor and based on having studied folklore for my post-grad work. The author does a good job of weaving a story and utilizing language better than most contemporary writers. I liked his style and look forward to the next book.

March 3rd: I have to amend this review. This update comes almost two weeks later. I am still thinking about that blasted Kvothe and what's happened to him. I am planning a way to obtain the next book and read it as quickly as possible. I am making sure my reading schedule will fit it in, still knowing deep inside that all other books shall be set aside to continue the story. I have gone to the author's personal website and read some of his blog entries just to feel like I've somehow been in contact with the world of Kvothe.

p.s. Ordered a first edition hardbound copy, planning to someday meet author at a book signing. Hoping.

Rush Limbaugh Sums It Up

2009-02-25T11:39:00.001-08:00

I'm posting some of the transcript from the Rush Limbaugh program. One of the reasons I'm doing this is because I agree with him. Another reason I'm doing it is because I disagree so heartily with many of my acquaintances and the political opinions they've been advertising. I personally don't like to read about other people's political opinions, especially when they differ from my own, especially when we're friends otherwise. So please disregard this if you know me and you think my opinions suck. I probably think yours suck too, but we get along in other ways, and that's good, viva la difference, right?

Yes, I believe in capitalism. Right now in my life I'm probably lower middle class. At some points in my life I could have used some free food, I could have taken the handouts the government offers, qualified for food stamps and other crap like that. But I don't plan to be lower middle class for the rest of my life, and if you're reading this and you disagree with my opinions, then you probably plan on being middle class for the rest of your life, and if you're already rich and disagree with me, well then you probably have a lot of guilt about your money. I'm just guessing here.

The good thing about capitalism is that it rewards ingenuity, it rewards hard work. Socialism and communism dampen the spirit, and if you don't believe ME, please believe Solzhenitsyn (read One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich). Why strive for anything if you will always only get the same as your neighbor who sits around all day watching TV? I hope to become more than what I am today, not just in terms of material wealth, but in terms of enriching my mind. That, I believe, is more possible in a world where people believe they can have more if they work hard. We are headed quickly toward a system where hard work and ingenuity are punished rather than rewarded.

Anyway, the point is, my blood has been boiling for quite some time over this stimulus plan. I disagreed with the first stimulus plan, I disagreed with the government meddling with the market and I'm quietly fuming about this other stimulus. I won't go any further on the subject, I'll just post some of Limbaugh's words because he articulates it better than I do. Here's the link to the full transcript (Rush discusses Rick Santelli, whose videos I have posted below).

RUSH: My staff, my loyal staff member, trusted aide-de-camp, H.R. shouting in my ear, and I know what the shouting was about. Here you have this guy Rick Santelli, and Rick Santelli is boiling over like other average Americans at being told he's done something wrong by succeeding and these guys on the Chicago Mercantile Board, they're being told they've done something wrong and they're going to have sacrifice, and they're going to have to pay for people who now we are told bought their houses they couldn't afford because they were told it was the patriotic thing to do. That is absolute chump BS. That's the first I've heard it. We've got members of the media acting as enforcers for the Obama administration, harassing Rick Santelli, a colleague of theirs who dared speak out against The Messiah so he's gotta be forced to bend over. We've already stimulated the economy, starting a year ago, $180 billion or $200 billion, the checks that you got for $600 or whatever. We're up to $1.7 trillion in stimulus. My friends, if this was the way to stimulate and grow an economy, we'd see signs. We see the opposite. We see economic decline.

So the question, what's going to fix this? It's the wrong question. Because the question assumes that there is a mechanism, something somebody can do to take us back to 13,000 at the Dow, to take all of your home value you've lost and restore it, that your 401(k) is going to be replenished. Folks, there is nothing. There is no single thing any magician can do to make that happen, because what has happened has taken place as a result of tampering with the market. Now, the market also makes mistakes in addition to people tampering with it. If left alone, it's almost impossible for economies to go into recession. So what screwed up the market? Let's not forget this. What screwed up the market was not a bunch of people being told there's bucket loads of money inside that bank, it's a patriotic duty for you to own a house you can't afford, go in there and get it. What happened was that a bunch of liberal Democrats decided the impoverished in this country have been taking it on the chin for too long it's not fair that they don't have homes. And since those people know that the poor and impoverished can't afford homes, we're going to find a way to make 'em be able to be in homes, and the people paying for it are not going to know they're paying for it.

So it's hello Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, and it's hello subprime mortgage market, called the Community Reinvestment Act or what have you, started by Carter and then Clinton comes along, and Janet Reno and the AG and Jamie Gorelick and all these people at Freddie Mac, Fannie Mae, they were telling people, these lenders, if you don't lend this money, we're going to investigate you. The government is the essential market tamperer here. Everybody is blaming the speculators and so forth, there may be a lot of people to blame here, but the focal point of blame should be aimed at Barney Frank, at Christopher Dodd, at any Democrat member of Congress who resisted efforts to regulate Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. The SEC, which was not regulating what the banks were doing to try to give value to these worthless mortgages that we're now being told are patriotic. The insults to our intelligence just add up every day. Every day we're here we have our intelligence insulted by the toxicity in the Drive-By Media.

We have a toxic disease in this country, and it's the media. We've got toxic assets as a result of the government tampering in the mortgage business. We've got debt out the wazoo. We have people who lived lives of substance when there was no "there" there and they wanted to keep up with the Joneses. Nobody's innocent here, except those of you who have no clue any of this was going on, you're playing by the rules, you're going to your lender, you're getting your mortgage, you don't know it's being packaged and sold at Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae, you don't know that it's being used to subsidize people that can't pay, and now all of a sudden, you're being told for things you had nothing to do with that you are the ones getting punished, that you have to pay for these people who couldn't pay in the first place, 'cause it's just too tragic. And now they're saying, what happens if that home next to you is in foreclosure? What happens to the value of your house? The answer is what the hell have you done to the value of my house already without these foreclosures? And, by the way, a foreclosed house -- this is the market speaking -- is a hell of a buy opportunity.

Do you know the California first-time buyer market is up 85% on sales of the purchase of foreclosed houses 'cause you can get in them much cheaper than you ever could, starter houses, first time buyers. Just get out of the way, the market will work. We are the market. The government tampers with the market. The government sucks things out of the market in the form of taxation, deficit spending, and now the government's in the business of laughing at the free market. The government is an albatross on the market. If left alone, we adapt, we respond to all kinds of market conditions, including artificially low interest rates created by the Fed which helped create the boom Brian Williams and Lauer don't talk about. Poor people respond to government policies pushed by leftists that make loans available to them to buy homes they can't afford. The market didn't create these conditions. The market is responding to them. The market's responding by short selling the stimulus. The Dow Jones Industrial Average is down 53 right now. It's been down as much as 200 today.

The investors, the people who are the real poll on the state of the economy are not investing. They are betting on the market continuing to go south. They're taking their money out of it in general. Some stocks are doing better than others. But the overall DJI is down, and it's been down over 2,000 points since Obama was immaculated. Well, since he was elected. From November 4th through February 12th the market has plunged more than it plunged in September and October under Bush. You don't know that because it's not being told to you because of the toxicity in our system that is the Drive-By Media and it's poor excuse for journalists and reporters. So we're trying to adapt to it, everybody's trying to react to the market. You heard Dave LaRoe call from his little restaurant in Grand Rapids, Ohio. He's watching Oprah and Suze Orman tell people not to go out to eat. He adapts, he calls here. He does something. He's gotta counter all of this negative attention being focused on the private sector. But there's not a fix.

Folks, Obama doesn't have it, God doesn't have it. Biden doesn't have it. Reid doesn't have it, Pelosi doesn't have it, Barney Frank doesn't have it. There is nothing that is going to come along tomorrow and restore the value of your house, replenish your 401(k) and your kids' college fund, take the Dow back to 13 on the way to 15; it isn't there. It could be again, but not with the leadership we have now. The leadership we have now is continuing to stand idly by while the market continues to plunge, unemployment continues to rise, they're spending money hand in fist claiming it's going to stimulate the economy, $1.7 trillion, that should be some stimulus. There ought to be some new jobs out there. There ought to be some positive attitude. There ought to be somebody that's feeling good, willing to invest in this economy. So far, we don't see it. We see Obama promising it, but we don't see it. If all this stimulus that we've already done is so magical that it's going to start the immediate uptick of the economy, somebody tell me when.

Keynesian stimulus packages have been shown to fail each and every time they've tried and yet here we are again, and it's not because the people think it's gonna work. Not as you would define. Working for you is the value of your house comes back, your risk of losing your job declines, your 401(k) is replenished, that's success to you. That's a plan working for you. To the Obama administration, the plan working is exactly what we're getting. The market spiraling out of control, no end in site, unemployment going up, and Obama telling us it's gonna get worse before it gets better. That's chaos. The more chaos, the more you will accept whatever your government tells you is the next fix, and then when anybody steps outta line, like poor old Rick Santelli, the agents of toxicity representing the Obama administration in the media will make sure that he is discredited and laughed at and made a fool of as quickly as possible. That's what's happening. There is no fix. There never has been a fix. There is only corruption and what breaks. The market will come back if it's left alone, but the current crop doesn't trust the market, don't like the market, too much freedom for them in the market.

Rick Responds to the White House

2009-02-25T11:35:00.000-08:00

Hero of the Folk: Rick Santelli

2009-02-25T11:33:00.000-08:00

Recent Aquisition: The Selected Letters of Wallace Stegner

2009-02-05T08:54:00.001-08:00

I picked up Stegner's Selected Letters yesterday. It was an urgent thing, because while this book has been in my Amazon shopping cart since l became aware it was out, I never felt rushed to get it until I saw that some doofus had left a ONE STAR REVIEW of it on Amazon.com recently. What kind of moron . . . . ? His reason is that he realized his fictional* college students are RIGHT, Stegner is an elitist snob. And then the doofus goes on to crack a joke, I guess, and mention that he supposes he should read Elizabeth Lynn-Cook's book Why I Can't Read Wallace Stegner: A Tribal Voice**.

Obviously I am forced to quickly come to his defense, not that he needs it. His work speaks for itself. He IS not an elitist snob. What is going on is that colleges are now swarming with students who think that being politically correct is proper and that no one should actually speak their mind if it goes against the fashionable current of thought. If a writer uses a word these students haven't heard on Prison Break or American Idol, that writer is clearly not interested in being understood. While I think it's true that some contemporary writers reach for the thesaurus too often and pick the obscure WRONG word rather than the right common word, this is just not the case for Stegner. His writing IS accessible and he is as clear as day. His writing is careful and thoughtful and he creates characters who are real and flawed, though ultimately good.

So far I have read his personal letters, the letters to his girlfriend before Mary Page and the letters to Mary Page (who he would marry). Some good lines from it:

"I am afraid you are a romantic, my love. I am afraid you live in the clouds, and in the future—an impossible future, and I am afraid you are one of these essentially skinless creatures whom every blowing cinder hurts. So am I, or was I. Then I developed a suit of armor, and then you came and undressed me again. I’m not sure that I mind, even on principle. I know that at present I love it, but I’m afraid when I think that both of us are going to get hurt" (p. 21).

And I read this in a letter to biographer Jackson Benson regarding his request to do a biography of Stegner:

"There is the further fact that I have led a very quiet life. I have no marital upheavals, spectacular alcoholism, sexual deviations, madcap adventures, or attempted suicides to report. You might find that even if I told you to go ahead, you would have little to write about. Actually, what I have meant, to myself and I hope to others, is an individual attempt to understand and come to terms with a dynamic, forming, and unstable society, that of the American West" (p. 75).

I like it that he regards his life as quiet and that he is humble about it. He's not thirsting to have someone write about him because he was modest. He recognized that having written novels put him in a kind of spotlight, and so he was something of a public figure, but he wasn't the kind of public figure that relished the limelight.

His son Page writes this about him:

"His letters were not notes dashed off in the rapid-fire, shorthand fashion of today's email. Virtually without exception they were thoughtful, articulate, and carefully crafted, with attention to minutia (spelling, punctuation, syntax); they employed simile, metaphor, poetic imagery, deliberation of voice, and, above all, attention to the melody of language. . . . Like the company accountant in Conrad's Heart of Darkness, he would have been embarrassed to be found wandering about dressed in anything but an immaculate white suit, no matter how remote the exposure to posterity or the likely indifference of his audience" (ix).

The reviewer on Amazon.com who got me all fired up, whose thoughtless review compelled me to rush out and buy the book, wondered why he cared about Stegner after reading half the book. I guess he didn't get it, but I do. Stegner wasn't an elitist snob. Rather, he cared about his words and how he used them. His writing was his way of making sense of the world, of trying to understand and be understood, but in composing his work he wasn't immodest. He had Victorian values to a degree and recognized that one doesn't have to confess every impropriety to be transparent***, and I think this is evident in Angle of Repose when the narrator discusses his disgust about the loose values and hedonism of the 1960s.

Anyway, I know I'm going to give it five stars when I'm done. Stegner was right about his life, he wasn't some spineless, self-absorbed writer whose biographies would reveal a string of affairs and a drug-riddled past interlaced with deviant behavior. He has always struck me as humble, but willing to do hard work and get done what had to be done. And in that way, because these qualities show up in it, his work has always been refreshing and beautiful.

*My assumption. I don't know if they really ARE fictional, but the idiot struck me as too moronic to actually be a college professor. Perhaps they're stocking the colleges with morons these days.
**Both Kirkus Reviews and Publisher's Weekly slam this collection of essays. First of all, Ms. Lynn-Cook truly has NEVER read Stegner. She uses his name to simultaneously capitalize on his success and bludgeon him in one breath. What a girl.
***Contemporary style is to confess everything, resulting in graphic depictions of sex, violence, drug-use and every other kind of depravity that does not necessarily move the plot forward or lead to a deeper understanding of character.

Yeah, Like I'm Going to Post P90X Results Here

2009-02-05T08:14:00.000-08:00

My P90X dvds came yesterday, finally. I bought them from a seller on ebay and was a little worried I had been scammed or something. But no, "product was as described." Shipping slow. Very slow.

I think I will start on it next week. First I have to "get my kitchen ready" as the supplemental material suggests. Also I need a decent pull up bar. I bought the Iron Gym from Target last week and it doesn't fit around any of my doorways. They're enormous, you see, because I live in an old house. Pretty lame that they didn't make it adjustable. So I returned it to Target. I hope Target sends it back to the manufacturer and the manufacturer begins to get the message. One can only hope.

I bought about a million dumbbells and the thing about that is, when you're buying a twenty pound weight for twenty five dollars, all you can think is, "I'm paying money for weight. Weight! The object is nothing but weight." For some reason, it seems so indulgent. What a statement of the advancement of our civilization that people will actually spend money on WEIGHT*. I mean, sixty years ago my grandmother would have been ashamed to hear about someone throwing their money away on weight. But back then you worked hard for things, and unlike me she didn't sit around all day in a tiny cubicle reading for a living, cut off from the land. She was out in it, with the sun on her face, planting her garden. Ok, yes, I totally romanticize the hell out of my grandma. And yes, I would love to have a homestead and not work in an office. I love my job though. I really do. The days fly by and what more can you ask?

And by the way, I heard through the grapevine that my younger sister went to visit my grandma, who is sort of on her last leg, and my sister told Grams that they were going to name their baby (due end of this month) after Grams' mother. And Grams said, "That's cute as hell." Or she may have said, "Hell that's cute." The person telling me the story couldn't remember perfectly. But is that cute as hell? Grams says the cutest things. If you knew her you'd understand better why it's so cute. This grandma of mine isn't your sailor-mouthed, chain-smoking, somewhat frightening grandma. You know the kind. The kind that scares you with their tiny vicious mouth and wrinkled tattoos and husky voice. My grandma is pretty gentle and happy, and she has this laugh that sounds like bells and sunlight. She usually has a smile on her face and she's small, but strong. So when she says, "Hell that's cute," the contrast is fantastic and therefore adorable. Well, I miss her.

Next month: Before and after shots of P90X results.

*This topic is very similar to my recent experience and enlightenment about such things as "We pay cash for gold. Bring in your old jewelry and we'll PAY YOU for it!" I will relate that story another time.

It's Never too Late for the Truth

2009-02-04T11:24:00.000-08:00

Read this today. In case you didn't know, Orson Scott Card is one of my literary heroes. I have admired his work since I first read Ender's Game* in junior high school. Thanks Terry (Terry's my dad, he's the one who recommended the book to me. He has good taste. And so does my mom. And so does everyone else who admires Orson Scott Card):

Would the Last Honest Reporter Please Turn On the Lights?
An open letter to the local daily paper -- almost every local daily paper in America:
I remember reading All the President's Men and thinking: That's journalism. You do what it takes to get the truth and you lay it before the public, because the public has a right to know.
This housing crisis didn't come out of nowhere. It was not a vague emanation of the evil Bush administration.
It was a direct result of the political decision, back in the late 1990s, to loosen the rules of lending so that home loans would be more accessible to poor people. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were authorized to approve risky loans.
What is a risky loan? It's a loan that the recipient is likely not to be able to repay.
The goal of this rule change was to help the poor -- which especially would help members of minority groups. But how does it help these people to give them a loan that they can't repay? They get into a house, yes, but when they can't make the payments, they lose the house -- along with their credit rating.
They end up worse off than before.
This was completely foreseeable and in fact many people did foresee it. One political party, in Congress and in the executive branch, tried repeatedly to tighten up the rules. The other party blocked every such attempt and tried to loosen them....(link)

*Want to argue about who's the bigger fan? Bring it....just kidding. You can probably outdo me, mystery reader. I haven't been as dedicated as a disciple should be. I've not read every single book he's written, but I have tried to keep up. He's prolific.

Killers: Day and Age = Pretty Good Album for $3.99

2008-11-24T14:26:00.001-08:00

I'm a new fan of buying my digital music from Amazon.com. Today I was listening to the new Killers album at Itunes where it costs $11.99 and I thought, I'll just go buy this one song that I really like so far, for .99 cents from Amazon. But when I found it on Amazon.com, it was only 3.99 for the whole album! That's ten songs for 3.99. I guess at Amazon.com, you get their dumb bonus songs, but is it worth 11.99? You decide. If you think no, go here to get it from Amazon.com.

I might add that the mp3s you get at Amazon are 256 kbps rather than the typical 126 kbps of Itunes songs. And also, you don't have to distinguish between drm-free downloads. They're all drm-free. Just another reason to love Amazon.com. I'm really really pleased about this.

"Did You Watch That Conway Twitty Video Yet?" and Ruminations About Conway Twitty and What He Means in the Larger Scheme of Things

2008-11-21T14:22:00.001-08:00

Did you watch that Conway Twitty video yet? If you didn't, go watch it now and bask in his amazing muttonchops. Some of my readers will think that my infatuation is getting out of hand, and if so, then they obviously haven't watched the YouTube video of him doing "Slow Hand." Because if they had, they would understand how easily it can go this far. That video alone is enough to win the iciest of hearts. If not for the pure karaoke feel of it, then for the way he caresses the lyrics of the song even while balancing precariously on a six foot circular platform in the middle of an unresponsive audience.

The thing I'm so grateful for right now, is the opportunity I have to watch footage of Conway singing before I was even alive. Stuff they wouldn't air on television again except for late at night during Time Life Country Classics Collection infomercials. So thank you YouTube, thank you.

I pinned up a Conway Twitty LP in my cubicle. I've been decorating with LPs for years now (yes, I was the first, actually), but this one is special because it's in my cubicle and it's like airing your alcohol addiction for everyone in your office to see. I don't know where I'm going with that metaphor, but the only thing I could do that would be worse would be to put up an NRA sticker. I have one, yes, it's true, but I put it in my car to really make a statement. The truth is, I find it humorous to really be into sappy crap. And I love the contradictions in all humans, but in myself most of all. I think it says something about life, that life is chaotic but full of beauty. I guess beauty is impossible without an element of the hideous somewhere.

You know what I'm talking about. Like when you're out on a hike, enjoying breathtaking vistas and an endless sky and then you stumble across the fresh carcass of a deer or something. How it hurts, the violent beauty of earth. That's what I mean, and we all have microcosms of that inside us. We have beautiful desires, like the desire to sing a Barbara Streisand song as you walk down the street, serenading the homeless. But everything gets in the way, fear of rejection or even indifference, and so the beautiful desires get suppressed; instead you simply pin up an LP of Conway Twitty in your cubicle--a tiny suggestion of the passion within. And then you drive home from work, cursing your lungs out at the bastard drivers in your way.

New Favorite Conway Twitty Song: Your Love Had Taken Me That High

2008-11-21T14:15:00.000-08:00