Birthday BS

So I've got this roommate, right? (Well, actually I've got two of them, but whatever.) And it's her birthday today. So the other roomie and I (see, this is where she enters the picture) were clearly having some sort of mind meld and we both decided to give her Doctor Who-related gifts ('cause she likes that sort of thing). (Yes, I know "mind meld" is a Star Trek reference, not Doctor Who; I'm a TV idiot, but I've managed to pick up a little bit.)

Anyway, I am pretty freakin' broke right about now, so the only presents I've been giving for quite a while are the ones I can make myself from stuff I already have in the house. Mainly, this means I'm doing a lot of knitting, sewing and cooking. However, this strange Aussie chick called Briony (about whom you may have read right here on this very blog...) posted a knitting pattern on my Facebook several months ago which was entitled "Extermaknit". If you know anything about Doctor Who, you know where this is going. Uh huh. That's right. I knitted a Dalek.



I must admit that some of it was rather amusing - it's not every day that your pattern has headings like "eyestalk" or additional instructions like "you can also stiffen it [the arm] with wire if necessary, as long as the recipient is old/human enough not to poke his/her/its eyes out with it." The bobbles (which I am reliably informed are called "Dalek bumps") were kind of a drag though, they take forever. Still, I have made this thing, despite having only seen a handful of episodes myself (I'd probably love it, honestly, but I really don't need another obsession right now). Oh, you'd probably like to see it, huh?

Yeah, sorry about that... camera issues. You'll just have to take my word for it. And that, I suppose, is the most delusional thing about this post. No wait, I lied - I forgot to tell you what the other present is. It's a Sonic Screwdriver.

Call me crazy, but it really looks like a - erm - we're supposed to be more or less family-friendly 'round here, aren't we? Well, if you're hanging around us, you can tell exactly what I'm thinking right now and probably giggling at the inherent bad pun. Screwdriver? Really? Hoo boy...

Images: Wikipedia, Wikipedia

Writing on Wednesdays

Oh man oh man, I'm blogging too much. I'm doing this A to Zed challenge, which is a hoot, and I'm blogging on my other blogs about Rumi and chickens and knitting and, of course, here, at the Burrow. Today I'm writing about writing. I thought I might tell you all why I blog in terms of my writing. Weird but true. I blog to write, I write to blog. Blogging keeps me away from my WIP maybe, but it doesn't keep me away from my writing. I know, I know, people say it does but it doesn't. It would be like saying that cleaning the top of my cupboards (which I'm also doing today - hateful task) keeps me away from housecleaning. No, it keeps me away from cleaning the bathroom but not housekeeping.

My writing has improved a great deal since I started blogging. After about 600 posts (500 at my main site and a bunch more elsewhere) I think I can safely say that my writing has improved. And it spills into my 'real writing'. Yes, it does.

I get instant feedback from savvy readers on what constitutes a good blog post and I can tell you, the writing has much to do with it. For instance, I nearly wrote 'alot' to do with it but I know that word is a no-no, or funny, or something - and I know it from blogging. I have honed my skills to use other better words, different words, unusual or unexpected words BECAUSE I don't want every blog to sound like one after another of cliches. And it is the daily practice which tells me this.

So, complain if you like about how blogging is taking you away from your important writing - even if you only do this to yourself or your cat, but ask yourself this. Why do I blog then? Because you do if you're here. You do.

Tropical Tuesday

Did you miss me? I bet not. I’ve been hiatusing from this blog since I like to do so whenever I fear that my dependability might be compromised. Like last month, when an earthquake hit the country I was currently residing in. You may have heard of it. I think it sorta made the news.

Anyway, I’m back now. Both here, and, uhm, here. “Here” being used to describe both my current physical location (Norway) and my current online location (Burrowers, Books & Balderdash – which is also your current online location, since you’re reading this. Clever, huh?). I left Japan in a flurry, and I wasn’t sure how why if when what would happen. Thus, being committed to serious blogging seemed like a bad idea.

Of course, “serious” is almost always a questionable term when it is used in between me and blogging.

For instance, I could have chosen to write about any number of highly topical things for this blog. I could have written, naturally, about Japan. I’m sure none of you are tired of hearing about the triple catastrophe by now. I know I’m not at all tired of talking about it…

I also could have talked about Libya. Or Syria. Or Côte d’Ivoire. Or Quran burning lunatics and the aftermath this inevitably had. I bet you would have loved that.

But let’s assume I am right and you’re a frog. I figured we all needed a break from all the sadness, all the tragedy, all the news. Let’s instead see what the weather will be like, Todd.

TODD: Thank you, Dan. Tomorrow we are looking at sunshine, sunshine, sunshine. Spring is on its way, and freckle warnings have been issued. The snow appears to be melting, and the weather is positively tropical for Norwegian standards. With less than a meter of snow left, people are moving outdoors, having picnics and sunbathing. Today, two Vikings were observed skinny-dipping in a lake only partially covered in ice, and it is expected that we will see more – assuming that we’d want to – of this is the near future.

DAN: How about the birds, Todd, have the birds returned yet?

TODD: Well, it appears that the birds are still hesitant, but at least the penguins seem to have returned to Antarctica, so spring must be right around the corner. I’m making piña coladas as we speak.

And with that I wish you a happy Tropical Tuesday. Spring really is on its way here in Norway, but for someone who was thrown back into Nordic winter after having experienced Tokyo spring; it’s been a cold few weeks. Hopefully Norway will catch up soon, and before we know it we can enjoy our one week of actual Tropical Tuesdays (funny how the one week where our temperatures rise above 25 Celsius consists of only Tuesdays) , and then summer is over and a new winter is on its way. Ah. 

Unusual Voices

I've read a few books recently that made me think 'I wouldn't have thought you could get away with that' but it TOTALLY worked for the story being told... in fact the books were stronger for it... so I thought I'd review those, plus a few read longer ago that share that quality of 'an unusual voice' for the narrator.

Blood on the Ice by Ian T. Healy

I ended up with this one because I know the author and was saying my usual spiel about a lot of self-published books not being ready. And I admit, I had to take it back in this case... though I can see several reasons he would have trouble with traditional publication. Let me e'splain...

Plot Summary: The Fighting Aardvarks, a sub sub pro hockey team in British Columbia has just traded a player, and Digger, the new guy... is a Vampire... as, one by one, he begins turning his teammates, it sends them on a winning streak, but Hammie, the very likeable, very realistic MC, doesn't really think they really ought to be giving up their mortal selves...

This is not your normal Vampire book... it is laugh out loud funny in a lot of places—not terribly scary, though there are definitely tense moments. The relationships struck me as far more realistic than you normally see in literature... the CLASSIC Jewish mother (but not overdone), the (goth writer wannabe) girlfriend a slightly insecure guy could really end up stuck with... The romance is subtle and definitely only subplot. And at the start of sections, the narrator speaks directly to the reader—typically a no-no (though try telling that to Tolstoy or Hugo... and more recently, Zusak... reviewed below).

There is a twist likely to offend people who take their Christianity too seriously, and so I definitely don't recommend this book to that group, and the hockey detail might be a bit much for people who have never watched or played—a fair bit of the action is on the ice, but I think for other people looking for a really entertaining romp of a story, this was a really fun read.

[published as eBook only, but also very affordable. At $2.99 it's a bargain]

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Death follows the life of a young (orphaned?--we don't learn if her mother survived, but she certainly disappears) girl through her early life in war-torn Germany. And lest you misunderstand... yes, Death is the narrator— in first person. And the girl becomes a book thief... and in the process, makes a great friend and learns to love people both wonderful and complicated.

It took me several dozen pages to quite catch the cadence of this... Death doesn't speak like other people, but once I did, this book is beautiful, poignant, heartbreaking, and triumphant. It is a very cleverly woven tale with a lesson about the price of doing what is right, and how you just really ought to do it anyway.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

This was my first Gaiman adventure... he's been on my list for a long time, and I finally decided this was where I wanted to start.

The book starts with a man murdering a family... lovely... but the toddler, who likes to climb out of his crib and go exploring, has disappeared... into a graveyard. The spirits of the graveyard feel sorry for the tyke... you get the feeling they have some idea of what's going on... so they take the boy in... give him the rights of the graveyard. He has a family of sorts, and a guardian who is more corporeal than the rest and can come and go. He is given the name Nobody Owens and his life is an odd one indeed. He is not a ghost, but having the rights of the graveyard means he can pass through things a normal person can't. And most people don't see him.

I loved this tale that had both darkness and humor—sweetness and conspiracy. It is all the things I really love, and yet they are so rarely seen together.

Man or Mango by Lucy Ellmann

This one was recommended by my friend Mark--

The plot of this is so scant as to barely be there (love lost, mourned—a lot, found), but the character philosophizing and meandering are deeply engaging. It really almost read, to me, at least, like a humorous philosophy book. I found myself laughing delightedly a lot—the settings and occurrences are bizarre—over the top—but somehow that lends itself well to the way the characters act and think. I really enjoyed the ride.

Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins

This book is a quest for the PERFECT scent... Jasmine as the high note... but what for the base... this epic could be called ode to the beet. I'm serious... three separate perfumers are trying to nail it... will it be the greedy Parisian, the suspicious New Orleanian, or the waitress from Seattle? Woven into the story is Pan, god of virility... in all his (horny) glory, some time and space travel, and a divine love story among people of a certain age...

This is Tom Robbins at his twisted, mind-bending best. Nothing is sacred (or rather probably everything is sacred if you rub it long enough).

I have also loved Skinny Legs and All and Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, but the former takes a particular flexibility of mind and the latter, an indulgent sexual attitude, so I think Jitterbug Perfume is his most approachable and fun one. Of all authors on the planet, if I could hang out with one for a lost weekend, Tom Robbins would be him.

So there you go... when you are in the mood for something a little different from the norm...

My Vestigiality Campaign

They say paper is becoming obsolete. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. The issue has advanced beyond my influence. But I did ask if They would say that neckties are obsolete, and while They are at it, I have a few other recommendations.

Not so fast, said They. It turns out They have specific guidelines, and there is a procedure involved. Obsolescence has to follow an intermediate step. Just like Sainthood first requires beatification, for something to become obsolete it has to first become vestigial.

vestigial - Of or pertaining to a vestige or remnant; like a trace from the past.

Then They told me that if I had a candidate in mind, I should start by popularizing the notion of vestigiality. Fair enough. So today, I present my first set of candidates:


neckties

Neckties are like nuclear bombs. They are horrible and nobody likes them, but you've got to have them because the other guy does or else you're at a disadvantage. Aside from the madness of the formality race, I see no function whatsoever.

Neckties don't provide warmth when it's cold, but they do increase discomfort when it's hot. Most intuitively, a scrap of cloth hanging from the neck ought to be useful if you needed to wipe your nose. And yet, that is exactly the sort of thing you aren't "allowed" to use it for (or so They say).

I recommend that a collared shirt and jacket be considered adequate for business attire. For some occasions, we can continue to use bow ties: Bow ties look snazzier, they are associated with pleasant celebratory events (like weddings and Academy Awards) and they're good for social bonding because it's usually the men who wear them and it's usually the women who actually know how to tie them.

If anything, the necktie can be retained in its vestigial form and trotted out for funerals, when everyone is supposed to be miserable anyway.


The word dial

Once upon a yesteryear, telephonic communication was initiated by spinning a wheel-- hence, "dial my number". Radios and televisions were tuned by rotating a knob-- hence, "Don't touch that dial!" (as the broadcasting station would often say). Both have been replaced by digital interfaces. Telephone numbers are keyed in, typed in, or punched in. That's three replacement terms! Don't need that 'dial' anymore, do we?

I haven't anything against the word, by the way. It just seemed like something kinda 'hip' to include in my list and give me some notoriety.

So let's reserve the term in vestigial form as a reference to antiquity enthusiasts who play with bona fide dials. Hopefully, ten years from now when some guy is tinkering with a ham radio and says he "dialed in a frequency", his audience will be amazed by the (presumed) talent necessary to accomplish such a delicate task normally reserved for computers.


mile markers

I'm not referring to those vaguely helpful signs that display things like "Spokane: 96 miles". Let's call that a miles-to-go sign.

Mile markers are different. For those who aren't familiar with the U.S. highway system, these markers are placed once every... wait for it... mile, with incremental numbers of mysterious derivation. For most people, this provides two bits of information: First, it tells you exactly the same thing your odometer could have told you, but with some clunky additional calculations required; Second, it tells you that '76' comes after '75', which comes after '74', etc.

The derivation, to satisfy your curiosity, is this: If the highway terminates within the state, then the number indicates the distance to the highway's termination (at which point it usually continues anyway, but with a different name); and if the highway continues past the state's border, the number indicates the mileage to the state line.

If you've seen such markers all your life and didn't know that, then I think I've made my point. The only purpose they might serve is to give children something to watch for on long road trips. But until a comprehensive study proves otherwise, I'm going to assume that the markers (1)Make children more impatient, and (2)Distract them for the glorious scenes of rolling grain and grazing/pooping cattle that deserve their undivided attention.

But a long series of posts on the side of the road is still filled with potential. I suggest we move the numbers to the back side, just in case some surveyer with a broken GPS unit has need of them. Replace the front side with puzzle games for the kids.


The 'at' in 'Where is that at?'

Alas, how best to explain the complete meaningless excess of this dangling preposition? It's like the word gollum in "They stole it from us, gollum!" Or the word gollum in "We wants it, gollum!" It's just a nasty little sound that indicates a malfunctioning language center. And it perpetuates ridiculous jokes of a form you might recognize:

A: Where's my coat at?
B: You shouldn't end sentences with a preposition.
A: Where's my coat at, [crude insult].

Ha ha. First, dumbass, no respectable grammarian thinks that prepositional endings are always disallowed. Second, adding an address afterward doesn't correct the mistake. The preposition needs to point to an object noun.

The only acceptable vestigial use is as a rhyme for "Love Shack".

And speaking of old jokes...


light bulb jokes

Most of us still have light bulbs in our home that require changing. But don't count on that being true for long. Incandescence is becoming more advanced, with exceptionally long-lasting bulbs. And even those that do need changed might soon be swapped out with a slide-and-click instead of the traditional (and joke-supporting) screw-in.

More to the point, the act of changing a light bulb was once the lowest common household maintenance task that involved some kind of technology but everyone still did themselves. Surely, we can find a new candidate to support some new jokes. Let's leave the existing light bulb jokes as vestiges of nostalgia, and create new material with... say... disc changing jokes.

A: How many WSU [or insert your rival school's name here] students does it take to change a disc?
B: How many?
A: Nobody knows. They won't hit 'eject' until it stops spinning.


A: How many lawyers does it take to change a disc?
B: How many?
A: You aren't licensed to alter that content!

You get the idea.

Cheers,
Jason

The End of the World

Tsunami in Japan. Revolution in Libya. Girls stoned to death in Bangladesh. Kids abused in shelter homes in India.
Cobra escaped from a New York zoo. Leopard trapped in a Mumbai drain.

You would think people could have their pick of news. But the one thing that has taken over every living, breathing moment of over a billion people for almost a week is none of those. It is something that transcends all of that. It is something that features Gods and devils. It is the End of the World. It is WAR!

Yesterday, India took on traditional rivals Pakistan in a game of cricket. Get that? A. Game. Of. Cricket. Yes, just a game. A game which is played in barely 25 countries across the world. A game!!!!

Sure, both India and Pakistan were "on a roll". Sure only one team could have made it to the Finals and have a crack at lifting the World Cup. Sure, it is the last chance for India's finest cricketer to lift the Cup. Sure, sure, sure. But....It. Is. Just. A. Game.

Offices were declaring a holiday, people were planning to wear Blue to support the team, people were going wild with facebook status updates.

But when I mentioned on my status message "Much that it may surprise you to hear it, the world is not coming to an end tomorrow!!!", people still did not get it. I wonder which part of the message was ambiguous, but I had at leat two people call me up and ask me if I was trying to reassure myself that the result of the game did not matter because I was scared that India would lose.

Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, I had only one person back me up (and if you are reading this, you know exactly who you are)!. Everyone else chose to belive that the World was Indeed coming to an End, either way.

Like one otherwise sensible person commented, "how can u guys be so placid. This is not cricket. Cricket is when india plays with anybody else. With Pak...it is a war!!"

Wow!!!

Get real, guys. Cricket is a game. Just. A. Game. It is not War. Cannot be War. Should not be War.

It had to happen sooner or later. In fact, knowing me and my big mouth and even bigger opinions, I am surprised it did not happen earlier, much earlier. I freaked! On Facebook! On my own wall on Facebook.

This is not War. War is when you are fighting for your Values, for your Freedom, for your Land, for Riches. War is a high stakes game, where people get hurt. War is the catalyst that forces negotiations to happen. Cricket. Is. Just. A. Game.

But more than that, do the people who speak of War even realize that by bickering with Pakistan, India is pulling herself to Pakistan's level. Pakistan is still an underdeveloped Third World Country. India is spoken as one of the Political and Economic Success Stories. War with China, I can start to condone, but a war with Pakistan? Disregarding the military might of the two countries, if India takes on Pakistan, I would call it "bullying", not "War".

Anyway, India won the match (even though I am not the only one who thinks it was fixed). The World did not come to an End. The Finals against Sri Lanka will be anti-climatic. I refuse to be sucked into the Mass Delusion. Cricket is just a game, and I would rather be out running some miles, or kicking a few balls than watching a bunch of overpaid models strut about a cricket green.

Or maybe I will do something that provided me unlimited amusement during THE WAR- follow the game, not on TV or live streaming, but through Facebook Status updates. The real winners were not the Men in Blue, the real winners were the mobile service providers- they must have done more business in one evening than they did in the rest of the month put together.

And who knows, maybe the World will come to an End if India loses the next match?

And since this song refuses to refuses to go away, I am inflicting it on all of you.

Happy Non Delusional Thursday.

Writing Wednesday: Constructive Criticism

Recently, a friend asked if I could give her some feedback on a PowerPoint presentation for her education class. I agreed to help her since I have some experience creating PowerPoints for my Smartboard lessons and have been teaching for about twelve years now (maybe thirteen, I lose count). She uploaded the file and went through each slide of her presentation. I told her that she had wonderful images to go with the information on Gardner's Multiple Intelligences, the topic of the presentation. I also gave a "warm" feedback on the organization of the material and the accuracy of the content. So when I gave her "cool" feedback, this is how the conversation occurred:


"I like that you want to include as much information as possible in your PowerPoint.  But, you have a little too much information on each slide. I think you should pare it down to a few key phrases and you do most of the description or definition of the material."


"Well, I think I have a great PowerPoint," my friend replied.


"I think it's a great PowerPoint too. But, when people see too much info on a slide they tend to shut down. Also, if all the info is on the slide, they can read it themselves. It would be unnecessary for you to be up there. Try to break those sentence-long bullets to just three to six words," trying to sound less offensive.


"Well, it was good and this is what I'm going to present," she states as she yanks the flash drive out the USB port.

"Are you going to show Ms. R., so she can put in sound like you wanted?" I inquired.

"No.  I'm not showing anyone else," she replied abruptly.


"Okay," and I turned my attention towards my lessons for the day.


I often see this behavior with my students. I give them two positive or "warm" comments and one suggestion for improvement. I get resistance because they feel that their work is the best and there is no need for improvement. They are not cognizant of the fact that there is always room for growth. My friend, on the other hand, is much older than I am and should know that suggestions for improvement can help to enhance an individual's work, whether it be a PowerPoint or piece of writing.

As writers, we can always improve in one area or another. As individuals, we must be adaptable. Life is all about change, whether it's a situation or a personal quality within oneself. I feel like I offended my friend but then again, she did ask for feedback. I tried to be as honest and unoffensive as possible. Next time, if there is a next time, she asks for help, I will respectfully decline and refer back to this particular situation.




What are some ways that you give feedback?
How do people in your life handle constructive criticism?
Do you think I could have provided feedback in a way that would have been more constructive?
I'd really like to know.