Dragon Shenanigans

Pinky's being 'Ellied'.

Er, I'm late. I know. But it's still Thursday, and I'm still delusional, so it's ok. I've had a mad day today, so it's fitting that it's my turn to post for 'Delusional Thursday'.

Pinky and Perky

Before I came here, I quickly cobbled together my limerick for the letter 'E' over on my other blog, because it's getting rather late in the day, and I don't want to fail the A-Z challenge, especially seeing as I haven't really blogged since February (and that's quite enough commas in one rambling sentence thank-you-very-much).

Also, I should mention that if you happen to notice a missing 'b' anywhere in the post, please forgive me. You see, the letter 'b' on my laptop is needing a much harder press than normal, owing to the fact that it is uggered. *shifty*.

Pinky's so fast, she moved before I could click!

Anyway... regarding my mad day. I spent much of it chasing dragons. No, seriously, I did. Ok, so they are bearded dragons, but still, dragons they are. Hubby obtained them two days ago (much to the astonishment of the kids - not to mention the cats). Today we decided to clean out the vivarium, so we had to remove the beardies (Pinky and Perky *coughs*) in order to do so. The dragons happily scampered all over the living room (or skidded more often than not as we have laminate flooring) for almost an hour. I kept having to scoop them up before they scurried into places where they might get stuck. Fast little uggers, they are. *nods*

Belle's a bit purrplexed...

I never thought I would have any other pet apart from my kitties. Hubby has been pestering for a snake or a tarantula for years, but I kept saying 'no'. Then the chance came to snap up these two beauties - complete with vivarium and all sorts of paraphernalia - for a bargain price. I was a bit iffy, but I figured they'd be better to live with than a snake or a giant spider (*shudders*). Despite my misgivings, I'm so happy I said 'yes', because I loves them, I do, I loves them!


 Still not sure how the cats are going to adjust though. *snort*

Muse or Mood?

Writing Wednesday has come 'round again, has it? I'm still not sure I'm in the best place for writing about writing, but so be it.

Actually, I'll start with a question - do you have to be in a certain mood to write, or put another way, do certain moods make it impossible for you to write? An informal poll of some of my scribble-inclined friends (I left the other Burrowers alone for this one, so don't get any ideas) seems to indicate that it's awfully personal - one writes horribly smutty things when depressed, another can't write at all, while a third can only write tragic scenes when she is herself in a very happy mood.

That's all very well for lazybutts like me who futz around and never really DO anything with the writing, but what about writers on deadlines? Even self-imposed ones like NaNoWriMo seem to get results (including, at least some of the time, for lazybutts like me), at least in terms of showing up and stringing the words together. In fact, this blog post is a really good example of the deadline forcing the work. I'm scheduled for the 4th, so I write a post on the 3rd. And since these posts are the only things I'm getting written these days (no, Facebook status updates certainly do not count), I guess that proves the power of the deadline (at least for me).

I'm not sure what I'd do if I were, say, a magazine or newspaper columnist (yeah, I know, dying breed, bear with me) who had an assignment that directly conflicted with events in my own life - can you imagine having to pen purple prose about weddings while going through a divorce, or "how to care for aging parents" if your own have recently died? I doubt journalists are much different from the rest of us in terms of just showing up and doing the job, so I'm back on the idea of the external deadline.

So, okay. I'm lazy. Guilty as charged. I guess I have to find some deadlines, huh?

"I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." - Douglas Adams

Rant time!

There are some things that make me really, really angry. Every once in a while, one of them hits me from behind when I wasn't expecting it and I go on a mad rant and generally terrify whichever poor sod is in my general vicinity when I go off like a bomb (sorry, Mom).

It happens rather a lot during an election year. (For non-US readers unfamiliar with the madness over here, there are elections all the time but the "big" ones are every 4 years, when we elect a president and a bunch of senators and representatives to boot.) So far this week I've gone on tears about abortion, capital punishment, general stupidity, Wall Street, and health insurance. But I'm not going to get into those today (for starters, it'd take PAGES, and then there's the fact that I don't feel like broadcasting all my opinions to the whole bloody world any more than y'all want to read them).

No, the one burning my butt today is education. Or lack thereof, really. I've had a couple of conversations today that just point out to me how very, very flawed things really are. One was with one of my best friends from college; the other with one of my 8th grade students. I'll take them one at a time.

My friend has three kids (two sons and a daughter), and her daughter (the oldest) is now in 1st grade. Which means she gets actual report cards (even if they're not marking a hell of a lot yet). The bit that got both of us hot under the collar? Next to the category "Reading Level", there are two possible boxes for checkmarks, depending on how the student is doing. These boxes are labeled "Below Grade Level" and "At Grade Level". See the problem here?

THERE IS NO OPTION FOR "ABOVE GRADE LEVEL".

Now, my friend is a sane and reasonable person and knows her kid isn't a super-genius or anything, but she's still a 1st grader reading at a good solid 3rd grade level and there's NO WAY TO RECOGNIZE THAT. Nothing. You're either at or below. And people wonder why the US is falling behind other nations? Excellence is simply not rewarded. If you're doing well, or even okay, you're ignored in favour of bringing up the lowest-performing students to a minimum-competency level. Do I think they SHOULD be brought up? Oh hell yes. Just not at the expense of the students who have the kind of brains who could change the world, but are instead being devoted to figuring out ever-better schemes for goofing off without getting caught.

The second conversation concerned one of my own students, who is putting together her schedule for next fall, when she starts high school. She has currently opted for all honours-level classes, except in science because she's worried about the workload. She's not worried about being able to understand the material, or that she'll get swamped by the math aspects (she's fine with math), but simply about the sheer volume of homework. But she's also concerned about being held back by the kids likely to be in such a class, whom she described as "the kids who smoke pot, or, well, they don't smoke it YET but they WILL, by the time we're juniors or so". I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at that one. This particular system doesn't stratify the kids UNTIL HIGH SCHOOL. Which means kids who can do algebra standing on their heads are in with kids who are still struggling with long division. Guess who gets the attention? Do they need it? Sure they do. Should they get ALL of it? Give me a break.

And this loops me back to the political landscape again, and the topics and issues that are getting increasingly complex as the world follows suit, and I look at the education systems that are tangential to my life and think, holy hell, how can people who came up through schools like these even be able to comprehend the basics of the economic mess, the complexities of health care reform, or the real hot-button issues like abortion rights? And if they can't understand it (hell, I can barely make sense out of some of it, and I'm not trying to be a brat but I have a very good brain banging around in my thick skull here), then how can they cast an informed vote on the matter?

I firmly believe that every citizen of a country has the absolute right to vote and to have a say in how that country is run. But if those citizens don't understand the impact of their votes, then how are we ever going to get anywhere?

Write or Wrong?

Lately, I've been pondering moral issues.

As a historian I frequently come across difficult topics that can be tough to handle professionally. I wrote my thesis on the Middle East conflict. I now teach about World War One and Two. Constantly, I run into issues that are difficult - if not impossible - to handle without passing some kind of judgment. The dropping of the atomic bombs over Japan, for instance. So many factors to consider, making it a very complex moral question.

In my research and teaching, however, the solution is fairly simple. As a historian, you are not supposed to pass judgment. Personal opinions are less interesting than professional explanations and analysis of the issues of the past. Whether something is "right" or "wrong" isn't relevant. It may not always be easy to avoid having opinions, and it may not be easy to avoid voicing them, but at least it is a yardstick we can keep to.

This goes for academic writing, but not so much in other genres.

In fiction writing you will also frequently run into moral issues, and you have much less restraints in terms of what you can and cannot do. You don't have to keep to academic standards or give justice to any sources, unless you chose to, of course. You are free to portray any issue which ever way you want - as long as you are prepared to face the concequences.

Because - even if we as fiction writers have no formal obligation to avoid passing judgment or meddling with complex moral themes, we may still face repercussions. People will still have opinions about the subjects you address, and they will not hesitate to pass judgment on you as the author if they disagree with your position.

Nabokov's Lolita seems an apt example. In this case it is, perhaps, his lack of passing judgment that has caused the controversy - the narrator, a middle-aged man, attempts to justify his own sexual relationship with a twelve-year-old girl. Nabokov found his novel first rejected; and then after publishing, banned many places. Eventually, however, it has come to be considered a classic and a must-read.

Moral issues engage us. This is why it is difficult to convince students that they need to strip their academic papers from them. And this is why controversial books that deal with moral issues frequently are prainsed and banned, often simultaneously. As fiction writers, then, we should perhaps seek to deal with these issues rather than avoid them?

Topical Tuesday: Taking Students to DC

Tomorrow, my school will be taking the junior class, 11th graders, to Washington D. C.  I am one of the chaperons, may the universe help me!  I will be gone from Wednesday morning to Friday evening.  Not really sure about the hotel accommodations but last year, they stayed at the Comfort Inn.  I know that I will not bring a bathing suit and I will not be swimming with the students!  It will be nice to see them in a setting outside of school.  


Have I mentioned that I have not packed nor do I have any travel supplies ready?  I should probably do that, huh?


 We are taking the students on a tour of various colleges in the DC area.  I believe we will be going to George Washington University, Howard University, Lincoln University and two or three different Institutes that focus on vocational trades.  We'll also get to tour the National Mall.  I'm excited as I have never been to DC and want to see the Smithsonian.  

I have mixed feelings about this trip.  I do want the students to get a good idea of college life and all of the possibilities their future can hold.  However, some students who are behavior problems are attending the trip and I really don't feel that they should attend.  Misbehavior in school is indicative of misbehavior in public.  *feeling conflicted*


Well, wish me luck!  I promise to take plenty of photos and post on my next blog post!


First image taken from Wikimedia Commons.
Second image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Tornado Season Shows Up Uninvited

So on this topical Tuesday, I thought about getting into the War on Women and why the GOP has the rest of the world mocking us. I considered delving into the ABNA cut-offs, as I find out today if I go on... but as I don't KNOW yet (as of this writing) that is what would be classified as non-news. Really, though, the biggest excitement (and by excitement, I mean mortal peril) I have encountered is the Bloody TORNADO that touched down about ten miles from home.

Just 10 miles from home...

Now some of you who live in tornado alley think 'big whoop' ten miles, zen smiles. Nice and safely distant. But in the twelve years we've lived in Michigan, this is the closest to home one has hit. I suppose over those twelve years we have AVERAGED one tornado a year that needs to be taken seriously. Averages being what they are, this means a few some years, none others. But this is by FAR the earliest I've seen one. (in fact in Michigan history there have only been 4 this strong in March)

And the fact Michigan had THREE tornadoes that day... though the one in Dexter was the strongest: an EF3 which means winds swirling at between 130 and 160 mph (ours was reported at 140). There was an EF2 to the north (110 mph) and an EF0 a little south (90 mph)

I have heard about big ones in Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky... This just seems like a REALLY early start for these tornadoes!


Normally I am a huge fan of big weather. But when I say that, I mean thunderstorms, blizzards (when I am safely at home). Big wind isn't really my thing, and especially not as powerful as all this.

Just look at that. Walls gone. Washers still there.

So QUESTION. Why don't they NAME these things?

The one that hit in Dexter destroyed several houses. Amazingly, nobody was hurt, but the destruction of tornadoes is so strange—so concentrated that it can completely destroy what it actually hits, leaving the house next door completely untouched.

So what do you think—is this going to be a really bad season for these, or is this an early fluke and things will get back to normal soon? Don't get me wrong, I adore the early spring we are having (heck, I think this is only the third time I've ever SEEN spring in Michigan—normally winter gives spring a miss and goes right on in to summer). But I'd be content to not have another of those...

How do you feel about big weather? Any where you are?

A Short Ramble & A Short Story

Ack... it's 'Writing Wednesday', and already past the deadline of noon. And I have to get ready to leave for my 2-10pm shift at work. Double ack. See, this is where my procrastinating gets me. I put things off until the last possible moment, and while sometimes I manage to pull something out of the hat, other times I don't.

Today is the latter, and so it will have to be a 'Written Wednesday' rather than a 'Writing Wednesday'. Truth be told, I'm not much good at these writerly posts anyway. A procrastinator doesn't really have a wealth of advice to offer, and if they did, they would save it for a rainy day in the spirit of putting things off,

So instead you can have a little Potter piece that I wrote a couple of years ago. After HPANA (my original Harry Potter internet home) went down, perhaps forever, little of my written work remained, but the following is one of a handful of pieces that I managed to salvage. Fortunately, it is one of my favourites.

+++++

Waiting.


Lily sat idly playing with a blade of grass, her expression thoughtful. There was a light breeze in the air, though not strong enough to move her hair much more than a little flutter. The sky was dark, threatening a shower at the very least, if not an outright downpour. Lily shivered. It wasn’t that she was cold, far from it; it was this dreadful waiting that was making her bones feel chilled.


It had been so long since life had seemed normal. It felt like she had been stuck in this – what was it? A half existence? – for longer than she cared to remember. She and James were forced to sit back and wait. The trouble was, they didn’t really know what they were waiting for, or when it would happen.


Their monotonous lives had been interrupted recently when Sirius had arrived. Lily had been perturbed at first by his sudden appearance, but both Sirius and James seemed happy in each other’s company, and even she had to admit that the extra adult company made things a little less… dare she say boring?


Lily sighed again as she watched the storm clouds gather directly above her head. Always it seemed winter here; always a fierce wind, with howling echoes that were reminiscent of wailing ghosts. She shivered again, the unwelcome feeling of ‘someone walking over her grave’ stealing down her spine.


“Why can’t the sun shine just once?” she asked the emptiness around her. But of course, the sun wouldn’t shine just because she’d asked it to. Just as she couldn’t go back just because she wanted to. Back to life, back to normality. If there even was a normality any more.


“Lily, darling, what are you doing?”

Lily smiled. James at least made things easier. Merlin knew what she would have done if he wasn’t here with her. He was almost always cheerful, in spite of their circumstances. Always he was trying to lift her spirits, telling her that soon – soon! – the wait would be over and all would be well. He gave her hope that one day the clouds would lift and the sun would manage to peek through and bathe them all with it’s life-giving light. Maybe she wouldn’t have to play with dried-out grass any more, and would instead be able to pluck a fresh bloom from the earth and enjoy its scent.


She felt James’s arms lift her from the ground and turned to smile at him.


“I was just….” her voice trailed off.


“Worrying? Wishing for something to happen?”


Lily smiled. James knew her too well.


“Come on, love; Sirius is chatting about old times and I need someone to remind him not to exaggerate too much,” said James cajolingly.


“Hmm, mixing things up, is he?” asked Lily, chuckling.


“You know Sirius; sometimes he forgets the finer details,” replied James, rolling his eyes.


Lily nodded and took her husband’s hand. Maybe Sirius’s Marauder tales would dispel some of her agitation. At the very least, she would enjoy the banter between her husband and his best friend.


***

She should have known things couldn’t have been so simple. Sirius had got as far as greeting Lily warmly, but was prevented from regaling tales from his youth by the sudden loud clap of thunder.


“I knew there would be a storm tonight,” muttered Lily.


“Nah, this isn’t a storm, Lily,” said Sirius lazily. “Look, there’s not even a drop of rain. It’s just a little bit of thunder, that’s all.”


Not even a drop of rain. There never was. This place had the constant atmosphere of an impending storm, but nothing more than dry thunder and lightening ever occurred.


“I have this feeling that something’s going to happen tonight,” said Lily, rubbing her arms.


“Look, noth-,” started James, but was interrupted by a familiar voice.


“Hello James,”


James and Sirius turned abruptly, but Lily closed her eyes, even more perturbed by this new arrival than she had been when Sirius had arrived.


“Oh no… not you too?” whispered James, his voice betraying his emotion.


“Yes, me too,” said Remus, though he didn’t sound half as distressed as his friend.


“How…?”


“Does it matter?” asked Remus ruefully. “No, not really. The fact is that I’m with you now. I think I was always meant to be with you one more time.”

Death. Lily shuddered. Even now it was hard to believe she was dead. That James was dead. But they were, and they were stuck in this limbo until Fate decreed that they could move on.


“Don’t look so distraught, Lily,” said Remus gently. “I’ve been waiting for Death to take me since I was nine years old. I’ve lived far longer than I could have wished, and I found happiness before I left life behind me.”


“You did?” asked Lily anxiously. She had worried endlessly about Remus ever since… ever really. He was the gentlest and sweetest of James’s friends, yet he had always suffered. She had feared the loss of herself and James would be his undoing.


“Yes, I did,” said Remus firmly. “I married. I married a wonderful woman who accepted me for who I was and loved me unconditionally.”


“Really? Oh Remus, that’s wonderful! But so sad…”


“Merlin, Remus, I’m sorry mate,” said Sirius, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder.


“You’re too good to have this happen to you,” said James simply. “I’m truly sorry, Remus.”


Remus smiled. “It’s alright. Much as it saddens me, my wife is waiting for me to join her.”


“You mean she’s…?”


“Yes, she’s also dead. Tonight; the same as me. And we’ve left behind a son to carry on the name, too,” he said proudly.

“But that’s even sadder!” exclaimed Lily. “How can you be so accepting?”


“You are,” pointed out Remus.


“Yes, but we’ve had…well, we’ve had a long time to come to terms with it, haven’t we James?”


Remus shrugged. “No point fretting about it, it’s done. And my wife is waiting for me; as soon as I’m finished here, I can go to her.”

“You’re not staying,” said James sadly.


“No,” said Remus. “But I don’t think you are either.”


“What do you mean?”


“We have something to do tonight; all four of us.”


Remus wouldn’t be drawn any further on the subject, but Lily knew without doubt that it concerned Harry.


“It’s happening tonight, isn’t it?” she whispered.


“What’s happening?” said James, sounding perplexed.


“Whatever it is that we’ve been waiting all these years for.”


Remus nodded smilingly.


“What are we supposed to do?” asked Lily, anxious to get things right.


“I don’t know,” shrugged Remus. “But I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I think we just have to be here.”


***


Time was never fast in Limbo, but the evening seemed to go on for eternity. The storm clouds continued to rumble threateningly and Lily wished for the umpteenth time that some rain would fall from those deceptively dry bits of cotton in the sky. The tension was palpable; all four friends were too nervous to say much. They all wanted the night’s proceedings to get under way, no matter what they were.

About an hour after Remus arrived, a small chink of light peeked through the clouds and highlighted a small patch of grass a few feet away from where they were sitting. Lily stood up and walked towards it, feeling somehow that hope was maybe just around the corner. She stooped down to the ground, her eyes drawn to a smudge of white.

“It’s a lily,” she breathed in awe. It had been so long since she had seen her namesake that she had almost forgotten what they looked like, but there was no mistaking the delicate flower that had appeared so suddenly in the previously barren ground. She bent to smell it with appreciation, and fingered the green stem that looked far too delicate to support the luminous white petals above it. For some reason she was reminded of Severus, and she smiled sadly in remembrance of her old friend. Her memory of him was so strong that she even thought she heard his voice.

Look at me…

Lily shook her head, calling herself silly. She took one more sniff of the lily before rejoining the others.

***

Another hour or so passed before it happened. The four friends had been talking quietly when suddenly they all felt something pulling at them. It was very similar to using a Portkey, but the pulling sensation was in their head rather than behind their navel.

All four began walking at once; they all seemed to know where they had to go.

“Harry’s calling us,” said Lily, her eyes shining with anticipation of seeing her son.

“Yes,” said Remus. “He needs us now. He needs our love to guide him through his task. We can help him, Lily. That’s why we’re all here.”


Lily nodded. It was as if she had known all along.


When she saw her son, Lily felt a burst of hope rip through her. The clouds parted a little more, and a few more chinks of light dotted the ground ahead.


This was what she had been waiting for. This was why she couldn’t be at peace. Her son needed one last piece of support from his parents before they could leave the Earth forever.


The closer they got, the more light came through those perpetually gloomy storm clouds. Lily knew with certainty that soon the clouds would dissipate and that the sun would be allowed to shine again. The endless winter would end, and life would be allowed to prosper all over again.


As Lily finally looked face to face at her son, she could almost smell the fragrance of the thousand flowers that would soon cover the dried-out grass that surrounded them.


Winter had ended. And Spring was the most magical of seasons.

***End***