It happens every September. I think I can make a nice neat job of assembling my teaching schedule from the wild jigsaw pieces all my students submit, and then I sit down with it and realize that 5 people want the same time and nobody wants the middle of Thursday and how am I going to work around the orchestra, anyway?
There are upsides and downsides to being self-employed. I thought one of the major ups would be getting to set my own schedule, but when I'm working around everything that my students get up to besides playing the viola (and most of them get up to quite a lot - sports, art, dance, babysitting and driver's ed for the older ones, and then all that annoying school-and-homework stuff) it turns out that I don't actually get a lot of say in the matter.
And then the new kids sign up, and I have to joggle them into place (please let there be new kids! {Not only could I use the money, all my returning kids are up to at least ASTA Level 2 [that's "American String Teachers Association"] and I kinda miss the littl'uns.}) without actually getting to meet or talk to them first. They changed the registration process on us a few years ago, which at first looked like it'd be wonderful but has turned out to suck. When you've got someone right in front of you, you can work out a compromise, but when all you've got is a piece of paper that says "Monday at 5" and that's it because they didn't understand that you're supposed to give a window, not just a start time, it's a little harder.
I suppose my greatest delusion is that I can actually make a living in the field I hold my degrees in. And yet, I've been doing it for a decade (whoof, that makes me feel old). Granted, with some help on the side from other jobs, but whatever. Maybe I should go collect a few more degrees now that the first two are paid off. A handful of doctorates that I could deal out like a deck of very big cards. Of course, it would be utterly delusional to think I could PAY for that... I wonder what the scholarship market is like for 30-something polymaths?
Showing posts with label Delusional Thursday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Delusional Thursday. Show all posts
13 September 2012
28 June 2012
Dopplegangers!
I'm sure everyone's heard it at some point - "Wow, you look just like so-and-so, are you related?" It might be a famous person, it might be somebody's high school friend, but despite the staggering variety of sizes, shapes and colours that humans come in, let's face it, everybody looks like somebody.
Do you ever wonder if identical twins just tune that out? Or - whoa - wouldn't it be weird if a set of twins met another set of twins and they ALL looked alike? I saw a guy walking down the street today who looked so much like Kit Harington that I actually double-checked to make sure he didn't have a white wolf with him (for those not up on their HBO, he plays Jon Snow in Game of Thrones and looks like this:)
So of course I immediately texted my buddy who thinks he's the hottest thing ever and told him to go hunting, so if some poor random dude finds a lovelorn Stark fan on his porch, oops, sorry.
Wanna know something really funny? At one point, Tara and I were near-doubles for each other. Seriously, no joke! I can't find the pics that show it best, but here are some munchkin pictures of us:
And here's one where we're all grown up (but not grown-ups, 'cause they're boring):
We look nothing alike anymore. Strange, isn't it?
(Yup. I swiped pics from Tara's and Tami's Facebook albums. This is what happens when I forget it's my turn to post until 1 AM. Oh well.)
Do you ever wonder if identical twins just tune that out? Or - whoa - wouldn't it be weird if a set of twins met another set of twins and they ALL looked alike? I saw a guy walking down the street today who looked so much like Kit Harington that I actually double-checked to make sure he didn't have a white wolf with him (for those not up on their HBO, he plays Jon Snow in Game of Thrones and looks like this:)
 |
| Found this one on somebody-or-other's Tumblr. |
Wanna know something really funny? At one point, Tara and I were near-doubles for each other. Seriously, no joke! I can't find the pics that show it best, but here are some munchkin pictures of us:
And here's one where we're all grown up (but not grown-ups, 'cause they're boring):
We look nothing alike anymore. Strange, isn't it?
(Yup. I swiped pics from Tara's and Tami's Facebook albums. This is what happens when I forget it's my turn to post until 1 AM. Oh well.)
05 April 2012
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 |
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! |
 |
| Belle's a bit purrplexed... |
Still not sure how the cats are going to adjust though. *snort*
08 March 2012
Delusional Memory
See, the beautiful thing about delusions is, you spend a lifetime wondering whether a thing happened or not. But if you don't have to pick a side... real, dream, fantasy... it becomes easier to tell. This is just such a story. I will be honest where I can, but I really don't know all the lines. I did in fact have nightmares during the event... and so reality and dream get fuzzy... and I was a child... that doesn't help...
A Vacation in Summer
I was five. And I was an able swimmer, or so I saw it. I'd passed swimming lessons anyway. And my mom promised me a fun weekend. Lake Pend Oreille. (pronounced Pond o' Ray) A house boat.
A houseboat... my mother had to explain the difference between a house boat and a boathouse. I'd been to boathouses. There was a lot of dark, and sparrow poo, and a certain damp stink. There were narrow planks to stand on while you got in, not as safe as the docks (the odd common feature between the two). Inside were more narrow planks around the boat. It was a thing endured because boat rides were fun and that was where the canoes were stored (canoeing was even more fun than boating -- something I suspect reverses with a Y chromosome), but it wasn't actually pleasant. The boathouse, I mean.
A house boat, on the other hand, was a floating HOUSE! It moved with the waves and you had to step over water from the dock. It was BRILLIANT!
The neighbor who invited us had a daughter my age (my best friend at the time) and a baby. In my head there was another mom with her very young son and either a baby, or... she might have been pregnant—that sounds closer to the truth (if I haven't made this up, I mean).
So there we were, three women in their twenties, four children, the oldest two of whom were five, one of whom might have been irritated that she'd been promised swimming then threatened with seaweed ['oh, no, it's too dangerous here'--as I mentioned, I was an able swimmer] (*cough* this might have been me) on a houseboat... for a week in summer on one of Idaho's most secluded lakes.
Up to this point, I have either stated facts or combining facts from different memories... From this point forward, I suspect I made large chunks of it up.
…
Dinner that night was made of green with red on top (true--it was zucchini). I wasn't much for vegetables, so I cried until my mom got really mad. My mom didn't get mad often. I forced myself to take a bite, but it just made me cry harder. I couldn't help it. It tasted like green, too. I have mentally blocked the rest of dinner. It must have been tragic.
We played a game before bed, Chutes and Ladders, but it was a silly, baby game. When I was at home or with my grandparents we played cards or dice — crazy 8s, gin rummy, blew it — real games. I was intrigued by the one with hippopotamuses, but nobody would let me play. The ice breaker one, either. Years later, I know it was about the noise (and a sleeping baby?). We did try Ants in the Pants, but that was a lot harder than it looked. I was really bad at it, so it was no fun. (I was in my early 30s when I finally sort of got the knack for that -- no clue how kids play.)
And then the storm started.
Power flickered, so the moms found some candles.
They put the other wee one(s?) to bed, or tried. Thunder can be an obstacle that way.
My friend and I cuddled under a blanket. Or argued. Of all my friends I've ever had, she is the one I fought the most with, probably because she was the first who spent a lot of time in my space — living across the street and all... I was an only child, unused to sharing. I think she was the first person I knew who didn't just give in to my will regularly — it was a hard lesson. But it made her my favorite person for a good long time. Somehow, though, my primary memory of that was sitting there spooking each other.
And now for the wild imagination part of the story.
There was a knock at the door and the moms were as scared as we were. My friend and I got shuffled up to bed (yeah, like that was happening).
It was a fugitive.
Or a murderer.
It was a band of horrible people that we had to hide from.
I actually had a nightmare that night, so even the storm may have been a figment of my imagination.
Maybe the knock was someone checking that the three women with their children were okay with no power in the storm — it was the early 70s after all.
Maybe some ranger thought he'd get lucky and instead only got invited in for a bowl of green.
Serves him right, spooking all those moms and children like that.
Any of you have clear memories you think might not actually be true? Only partially true?
 |
| This is not THE house boat, but right lake... |
I was five. And I was an able swimmer, or so I saw it. I'd passed swimming lessons anyway. And my mom promised me a fun weekend. Lake Pend Oreille. (pronounced Pond o' Ray) A house boat.
A houseboat... my mother had to explain the difference between a house boat and a boathouse. I'd been to boathouses. There was a lot of dark, and sparrow poo, and a certain damp stink. There were narrow planks to stand on while you got in, not as safe as the docks (the odd common feature between the two). Inside were more narrow planks around the boat. It was a thing endured because boat rides were fun and that was where the canoes were stored (canoeing was even more fun than boating -- something I suspect reverses with a Y chromosome), but it wasn't actually pleasant. The boathouse, I mean.
A house boat, on the other hand, was a floating HOUSE! It moved with the waves and you had to step over water from the dock. It was BRILLIANT!
The neighbor who invited us had a daughter my age (my best friend at the time) and a baby. In my head there was another mom with her very young son and either a baby, or... she might have been pregnant—that sounds closer to the truth (if I haven't made this up, I mean).
 |
| Beautiful, isn't it? |
Up to this point, I have either stated facts or combining facts from different memories... From this point forward, I suspect I made large chunks of it up.
…
Dinner that night was made of green with red on top (true--it was zucchini). I wasn't much for vegetables, so I cried until my mom got really mad. My mom didn't get mad often. I forced myself to take a bite, but it just made me cry harder. I couldn't help it. It tasted like green, too. I have mentally blocked the rest of dinner. It must have been tragic.
And then the storm started.
Power flickered, so the moms found some candles.
They put the other wee one(s?) to bed, or tried. Thunder can be an obstacle that way.
My friend and I cuddled under a blanket. Or argued. Of all my friends I've ever had, she is the one I fought the most with, probably because she was the first who spent a lot of time in my space — living across the street and all... I was an only child, unused to sharing. I think she was the first person I knew who didn't just give in to my will regularly — it was a hard lesson. But it made her my favorite person for a good long time. Somehow, though, my primary memory of that was sitting there spooking each other.
And now for the wild imagination part of the story.
There was a knock at the door and the moms were as scared as we were. My friend and I got shuffled up to bed (yeah, like that was happening).
It was a fugitive.
Or a murderer.
It was a band of horrible people that we had to hide from.
I actually had a nightmare that night, so even the storm may have been a figment of my imagination.
Maybe the knock was someone checking that the three women with their children were okay with no power in the storm — it was the early 70s after all.
Maybe some ranger thought he'd get lucky and instead only got invited in for a bowl of green.
Serves him right, spooking all those moms and children like that.
Any of you have clear memories you think might not actually be true? Only partially true?
01 March 2012
Snow!!! Errr... no.
As usual when I can't think of something, I fall back on the weather. This time, it's my personal delusion that it should always, always, always snow on my birthday. Hey, it happens most years - it's in February, after all - and I would sometimes get snow days for my birthday when I was a kid, which, gotta tell you, was completely awesome. This year, though, we've had maybe two days of measurable snow, and one of 'em was way back in October! So when the forecast said snow for Wednesday, well, okay, a little late but better than nothing!
Errrrm... well, we got some snow. It was wet and floopy but things were white! And pretty! Winter Wonderland in the Arboretum! And then it changed to rain. And sleet. And general gross nasty cold wet ugh.
I'm calling shenanigans on this weather. I live in the Northeastern US, you're telling me that it's freakin' MARCH and this is only our 3rd snow? Snow is the whole POINT of winter! If you've gotta put up with bundling up and freezing your toeses and noses and all, then at least you should get pretty white stuff to make up for it. It looks nice, you can throw it at people, you can build snowmen and igloos and forts (okay, okay, yes, you have to shovel out cars and sidewalks and driveways too, but minor inconvenience compared to a good snowball fight) - and we're just not getting any.
No fair, man. No fair.
Image: Wikipedia
Errrrm... well, we got some snow. It was wet and floopy but things were white! And pretty! Winter Wonderland in the Arboretum! And then it changed to rain. And sleet. And general gross nasty cold wet ugh.
I'm calling shenanigans on this weather. I live in the Northeastern US, you're telling me that it's freakin' MARCH and this is only our 3rd snow? Snow is the whole POINT of winter! If you've gotta put up with bundling up and freezing your toeses and noses and all, then at least you should get pretty white stuff to make up for it. It looks nice, you can throw it at people, you can build snowmen and igloos and forts (okay, okay, yes, you have to shovel out cars and sidewalks and driveways too, but minor inconvenience compared to a good snowball fight) - and we're just not getting any.
No fair, man. No fair.
Image: Wikipedia
16 February 2012
Delusional Anagram Thursday
Delusional.
Ledusional.
Sudinoalle.
Unload isle.
Allies undo.
Ail nodules.
A duels loin.
Lone laid us.
Dial ole sun.
Use land oil.
Sun aloe lid.
El slain duo.
La nude silo.
An oil duel.
Denial soul.
(Now sing it to the tune of "Old MacDonald"...)
Ledusional.
Sudinoalle.
Unload isle.
Allies undo.
Ail nodules.
A duels loin.
Lone laid us.
Dial ole sun.
Use land oil.
Sun aloe lid.
El slain duo.
La nude silo.
An oil duel.
Denial soul.
(Now sing it to the tune of "Old MacDonald"...)
09 February 2012
The People Vs Tara Smith
We are here, my friends, to prove the fact that Tara Smith is insane. It will be a short trial, with little dialogue and some photographic evidence. But we have little need for a long trial, as you will see...
Let's begin.
The People: We are here today to accuse you, Tara Smith, of insanity. How do you plead?
Tara Smith: Not guilty?
The People: You sound a little unsure.
Tara Smith: Well, I'm pretty sure I don't have to answer without the presence of my lawyer.
The People: You don't have a lawyer.
Tara Smith: That is correct.
The People: So you are defending yourself, then.
Tara Smith: Oh, right.
The People: So your plea is?
Tara Smith: Er... not guilty.
The People: Good. This is how things will proceed: We will present some evidence. and you will rebut it.
Tara Smith: *blank stare*
The People: Just respond after each piece of evidence, OK?
Tara Smith: OK!
The People: I present exhibit number one:
This, I believe, is a 'person' that was created in your place of work.
Tara Smith: Yes! That is Eric Spartan, Zombie Hunter Extraordinaire! But, you can't use this against me as I had no part in his coming into being. *nods firmly*
The People: That may be the case, but we will now turn to the events of Saturday evening, February 4th, 2012.
Tara Smith: *shifts uncomfortably in seat*
The People: Did you, or did you not create two other 'people' on this occasion? And name them 'Ginger Ninja' and 'Penelope Purple.?
Tara Smith: Well, erm...
The People: And then, Tara Smith, did you, or did you not, proceed to scalp these newly born people?
Tara Smith: Well, I wouldn't say that...
The People: And then, after this massacre, did you decide that cross-dressing your imaginary person would be an acceptable thing to do?
Tara Smith: Well, I've always believed that a little cross-dressing never hurt anyone.
The People: And after this cross-dressing, did you then decide that using a scalp as a beard would be funny?
Tara Smith: You have to admit, it is kind of amusing...
The People: And once all the shenanigans were over, did you ruthlessly throw your new friends into the corner while you continued consuming copious amounts of vodka?
Tara Smith: I wouldn't say we were ruthless. A little unsteady on our feet, perhaps, but not ruthless.
The People: And finally, Tara Smith, did you, or did you not, don one of the scalps and laugh like a hyena?
Tara Smith: *tries to look innocent*
The People: After seeing all of the evidence, which cannot be refuted, what say you now, Tara Smith? We, The People, say that you are insane. What is your response?
Tara Smith: Oh alright... it's a fair cop...
Let's begin.
The People: We are here today to accuse you, Tara Smith, of insanity. How do you plead?
Tara Smith: Not guilty?
The People: You sound a little unsure.
Tara Smith: Well, I'm pretty sure I don't have to answer without the presence of my lawyer.
The People: You don't have a lawyer.
Tara Smith: That is correct.
The People: So you are defending yourself, then.
Tara Smith: Oh, right.
The People: So your plea is?
Tara Smith: Er... not guilty.
The People: Good. This is how things will proceed: We will present some evidence. and you will rebut it.
Tara Smith: *blank stare*
The People: Just respond after each piece of evidence, OK?
Tara Smith: OK!
The People: I present exhibit number one:
This, I believe, is a 'person' that was created in your place of work.
Tara Smith: Yes! That is Eric Spartan, Zombie Hunter Extraordinaire! But, you can't use this against me as I had no part in his coming into being. *nods firmly*
The People: That may be the case, but we will now turn to the events of Saturday evening, February 4th, 2012.
Tara Smith: *shifts uncomfortably in seat*
The People: Did you, or did you not create two other 'people' on this occasion? And name them 'Ginger Ninja' and 'Penelope Purple.?
Tara Smith: Well, erm...
The People: And then, Tara Smith, did you, or did you not, proceed to scalp these newly born people?
Tara Smith: Well, I wouldn't say that...
The People: And then, after this massacre, did you decide that cross-dressing your imaginary person would be an acceptable thing to do?
Tara Smith: Well, I've always believed that a little cross-dressing never hurt anyone.
The People: And after this cross-dressing, did you then decide that using a scalp as a beard would be funny?
Tara Smith: You have to admit, it is kind of amusing...
The People: And once all the shenanigans were over, did you ruthlessly throw your new friends into the corner while you continued consuming copious amounts of vodka?
Tara Smith: I wouldn't say we were ruthless. A little unsteady on our feet, perhaps, but not ruthless.
The People: And finally, Tara Smith, did you, or did you not, don one of the scalps and laugh like a hyena?
Tara Smith: *tries to look innocent*
The People: After seeing all of the evidence, which cannot be refuted, what say you now, Tara Smith? We, The People, say that you are insane. What is your response?
Tara Smith: Oh alright... it's a fair cop...
02 February 2012
Shared Delusion Thursday: Clearing Up a Few Things Trek
This is about Star Trek. Superficially, judging by my title, you might think that Trek-related misconceptions are a pet peeve. Nothing could be further from the truth, because if you truly lack any misconceptions, you'll have no reason to read my blog.
Anyway:
The Actors Love It
Or at the very least, they like it a great deal.
It's easy to think that actors don't like being typecast. George Takei (Sulu) said as much in a cameo on The Big Bang Theory where he portrayed a figment of Trek-fan Wolowitz's imagination ("You try and stretch as an actor... but all they want is, 'Course laid in, Captain!' ") Worse than typecasting is being identified as one's character. Leonard Nimoy went so far as to publish a 1977 autobiography titled I Am Not Spock.
But such is the hazard of acting fame, regardless of genre. And if it's slightly more pronounced with Star Trek, it only translates to more fame and more opportunities. You could fill an entire wiki with post-Trek acting and directing credits for former cast members.
More importantly, they get it-- "it" being the message and broad theme of Star Trek, Roddenberry's original vision of a successful future for humanity. Nearly every Star Trek actor ever interviewed speaks in glowing terms about the message of hope and their pride at being associated with such. In one of his autobiographies, William Shatner waxed nostalgic at being the celebrity du jour among NASA engineers in the heyday of lunar exploration. He understands Star Trek's role as an inspiration to scientists and engineers.
As for Nimoy's identity crisis, he followed his earlier work with a 1995 volume titled I Am Spock, telling how he'd come to terms with-- and even embraced-- the character identification. He also realized how much input he, as an actor, had on the character's development. And speaking of Spock...
Vulcans and Androids Do Have Emotions
If you've seen the 2009 Trek reboot, you already know this about Vulcans, having seen the young Spock lose control of his anger. You're probably thinking Data is covered by his emotion chip that he acquired after the death of Dr. Soong.
Yeah, yeah. But that's not what I'm talking about.
Even pre-chip Data and Vulcans in their most coldly logical state are emotional entities. Such is evident from the fact that they don't flop over, lay on the ground and wait to die.
Deliberate action is a means to an end. That an end is aimed at implies the existence of an alternative, and a variance in satisfaction among possible outcomes. The existence of satisfaction implies emotion.
Q.E.D.
More prosaically, the absence of superficial fear, anger, lust, etc. does not exclude the presence of less flamboyant emotions. Commander Data wants to understand humanity better. That's emotion. He has a desire to serve and advance Starfleet, and to see his comrades safe and happy. Spock, like other Vulcans, wants to advance science and peace. He wants intelligent beings to live long and prosper. He wants to seek out new life and new civilizations, to go boldly where no one has gone before. These are admirable emotions, true, but emotions nonetheless.
Picard or Kirk?
Ah, the great debate of the 20th century. Captain Kirk is a swashbuckling hero, and the eponymous face of Trek. Captain Picard is the smooth diplomat, and portrayed by (arguably) the best actor in any Trek series, Patrick Stewart.
But, really, Captain Benjamin Sisko from Deep Space Nine beats them both.
Kirk was notorious for getting into sloppy, 60's-style fist fights, and beat up his fair share of humans & aliens. Sisko matches that at the very least, having taken on both Klingons and the dreaded Jem'hadar.
Kirk also had a bad habit of encountering God-like aliens who had to be tricked or cajoled into leaving the Enterprise alone. Captain Sisko, on the other hand, spent the entire series with the "Prophets" (a.k.a. "Wormhole Aliens") in his head, was forced to serve as their Emissary to the Bajorans, and eventually had to serve as their surrogate in defeating their evil counterparts, the Pah Wraiths.
Now let's talk about diplomacy and juggling various people/interests/things.
Captain Picard was pretty darned good at making diplomatic overtures to the enemies and mysterious entities encountered by his ship. But Picard had no challenges on the ship. The slightly touchy, potentially violent Klingon, Lieutenant Worf, was perfectly obedient; and if there was ever a personal problem with Worf, it was Commander Riker who handled it. The slightly quirky, potentially annoying android, Commander Data, was even more reliable; and, again, his quirks were the responsibility of someone other than Picard-- in this case, Lt. Commander LaForge.
Captain Sisko, on the other hand, was placed in command of a space station that wasn't even part of Starfleet-- it was owned by the Bajorans! Half his crew, including his first officer, were Bajoran, and if such were generally supportive, there were more Bajorans on the nearby planet (e.g., Kai Winn) who despised his presence and plotted against him. Sisko had to placate and/or cajole and/or bully the greedy, scheming Ferengi on the station, frequent Klingon war allies, Romulan allies, Cardassians with suspicious intentions, various factions on Bajor, and-- of course-- those extratemporal Prophets.
Sisko had to do this while none of the aforementioned groups was under his command.
And he did it all while raising a kid as a single father.
Top that, Picard.
Trekkers Are Not Geeks
Because...
No, I can't back that up. But it brings me to my last point...
It's All About the Fans More Than the Shows
Young people often look at Star Trek and wonder: "What's the big deal?"
After all, the science fiction is nowhere near as good as 2001: A Space Odyssey. The action doesn't come close to Star Wars. The only Trek series with a solid, continuous storyline is Deep Space Nine, which is not nearly as highly regarded as The Original Series or Next Generation, and none of these come close to something like Firefly.
But back in the late 60's and early 70's, Star Trek was the only Sci-Fi game in town. And thus it was born as the standard-bearer and the rallying point for all kinds of people: scientists, engineers, technology enthusiasts, and those who simply wanted to share a fantasy universe that had been given life on television.
The standard-- and the cliché-- endures. If a movie or television show wants to portray a character as nerdy, that character shows off his knowledge of Star Trek. And in the 21st century world of high technology, geek is the new chic. Star Trek is a matter of identity. Heck, it's not even my favorite show, but I've been known to memorize a few obscure facts just to show off my geekiness.
Thus those famed Star Trek conventions did not draw ravening hordes to suck up souvenirs and reenact the show. The fans came to be with each other.
My own conventional experience centers on a Trek-based trading card game, one that's taken on a life of its own. Some players are only marginal Star Trek fans, and no small number have become fans via the game. But the community of players is relatively small compared to something like Magic: The Gathering, so we travel great distances, often at considerable expense, to play in tournaments. Why? Why not pick up a more popular game? It's the people. It's a game that attracts, even demands, a high level of interest, involvement, and intelligence. It's the experience of flying across the country to spend a weekend with thirty complete strangers who feel like thirty old friends.
Live Long and Prosper,
Jason
Post Script: What the hell, auto spell-checker? You don't have "Bajoran" or "Starfleet" or "Picard" in the dictionary? At least it recognized "Klingon". Premise holds. Trek rules.
Anyway:
The Actors Love It
Or at the very least, they like it a great deal.
It's easy to think that actors don't like being typecast. George Takei (Sulu) said as much in a cameo on The Big Bang Theory where he portrayed a figment of Trek-fan Wolowitz's imagination ("You try and stretch as an actor... but all they want is, 'Course laid in, Captain!' ") Worse than typecasting is being identified as one's character. Leonard Nimoy went so far as to publish a 1977 autobiography titled I Am Not Spock.
But such is the hazard of acting fame, regardless of genre. And if it's slightly more pronounced with Star Trek, it only translates to more fame and more opportunities. You could fill an entire wiki with post-Trek acting and directing credits for former cast members.
More importantly, they get it-- "it" being the message and broad theme of Star Trek, Roddenberry's original vision of a successful future for humanity. Nearly every Star Trek actor ever interviewed speaks in glowing terms about the message of hope and their pride at being associated with such. In one of his autobiographies, William Shatner waxed nostalgic at being the celebrity du jour among NASA engineers in the heyday of lunar exploration. He understands Star Trek's role as an inspiration to scientists and engineers.
As for Nimoy's identity crisis, he followed his earlier work with a 1995 volume titled I Am Spock, telling how he'd come to terms with-- and even embraced-- the character identification. He also realized how much input he, as an actor, had on the character's development. And speaking of Spock...
Vulcans and Androids Do Have Emotions
If you've seen the 2009 Trek reboot, you already know this about Vulcans, having seen the young Spock lose control of his anger. You're probably thinking Data is covered by his emotion chip that he acquired after the death of Dr. Soong.
Yeah, yeah. But that's not what I'm talking about.
Even pre-chip Data and Vulcans in their most coldly logical state are emotional entities. Such is evident from the fact that they don't flop over, lay on the ground and wait to die.
Deliberate action is a means to an end. That an end is aimed at implies the existence of an alternative, and a variance in satisfaction among possible outcomes. The existence of satisfaction implies emotion.
Q.E.D.
More prosaically, the absence of superficial fear, anger, lust, etc. does not exclude the presence of less flamboyant emotions. Commander Data wants to understand humanity better. That's emotion. He has a desire to serve and advance Starfleet, and to see his comrades safe and happy. Spock, like other Vulcans, wants to advance science and peace. He wants intelligent beings to live long and prosper. He wants to seek out new life and new civilizations, to go boldly where no one has gone before. These are admirable emotions, true, but emotions nonetheless.
Picard or Kirk?
Ah, the great debate of the 20th century. Captain Kirk is a swashbuckling hero, and the eponymous face of Trek. Captain Picard is the smooth diplomat, and portrayed by (arguably) the best actor in any Trek series, Patrick Stewart.
But, really, Captain Benjamin Sisko from Deep Space Nine beats them both.
Kirk was notorious for getting into sloppy, 60's-style fist fights, and beat up his fair share of humans & aliens. Sisko matches that at the very least, having taken on both Klingons and the dreaded Jem'hadar.
Kirk also had a bad habit of encountering God-like aliens who had to be tricked or cajoled into leaving the Enterprise alone. Captain Sisko, on the other hand, spent the entire series with the "Prophets" (a.k.a. "Wormhole Aliens") in his head, was forced to serve as their Emissary to the Bajorans, and eventually had to serve as their surrogate in defeating their evil counterparts, the Pah Wraiths.
Now let's talk about diplomacy and juggling various people/interests/things.
Captain Picard was pretty darned good at making diplomatic overtures to the enemies and mysterious entities encountered by his ship. But Picard had no challenges on the ship. The slightly touchy, potentially violent Klingon, Lieutenant Worf, was perfectly obedient; and if there was ever a personal problem with Worf, it was Commander Riker who handled it. The slightly quirky, potentially annoying android, Commander Data, was even more reliable; and, again, his quirks were the responsibility of someone other than Picard-- in this case, Lt. Commander LaForge.
Captain Sisko, on the other hand, was placed in command of a space station that wasn't even part of Starfleet-- it was owned by the Bajorans! Half his crew, including his first officer, were Bajoran, and if such were generally supportive, there were more Bajorans on the nearby planet (e.g., Kai Winn) who despised his presence and plotted against him. Sisko had to placate and/or cajole and/or bully the greedy, scheming Ferengi on the station, frequent Klingon war allies, Romulan allies, Cardassians with suspicious intentions, various factions on Bajor, and-- of course-- those extratemporal Prophets.
Sisko had to do this while none of the aforementioned groups was under his command.
And he did it all while raising a kid as a single father.
Top that, Picard.
Trekkers Are Not Geeks
Because...
No, I can't back that up. But it brings me to my last point...
It's All About the Fans More Than the Shows
Young people often look at Star Trek and wonder: "What's the big deal?"
After all, the science fiction is nowhere near as good as 2001: A Space Odyssey. The action doesn't come close to Star Wars. The only Trek series with a solid, continuous storyline is Deep Space Nine, which is not nearly as highly regarded as The Original Series or Next Generation, and none of these come close to something like Firefly.
But back in the late 60's and early 70's, Star Trek was the only Sci-Fi game in town. And thus it was born as the standard-bearer and the rallying point for all kinds of people: scientists, engineers, technology enthusiasts, and those who simply wanted to share a fantasy universe that had been given life on television.
The standard-- and the cliché-- endures. If a movie or television show wants to portray a character as nerdy, that character shows off his knowledge of Star Trek. And in the 21st century world of high technology, geek is the new chic. Star Trek is a matter of identity. Heck, it's not even my favorite show, but I've been known to memorize a few obscure facts just to show off my geekiness.
Thus those famed Star Trek conventions did not draw ravening hordes to suck up souvenirs and reenact the show. The fans came to be with each other.
My own conventional experience centers on a Trek-based trading card game, one that's taken on a life of its own. Some players are only marginal Star Trek fans, and no small number have become fans via the game. But the community of players is relatively small compared to something like Magic: The Gathering, so we travel great distances, often at considerable expense, to play in tournaments. Why? Why not pick up a more popular game? It's the people. It's a game that attracts, even demands, a high level of interest, involvement, and intelligence. It's the experience of flying across the country to spend a weekend with thirty complete strangers who feel like thirty old friends.
Live Long and Prosper,
Jason
Post Script: What the hell, auto spell-checker? You don't have "Bajoran" or "Starfleet" or "Picard" in the dictionary? At least it recognized "Klingon". Premise holds. Trek rules.
19 January 2012
Delusional Thursday: Overambitious but Attainable Goals
My goals for 2012 are a bit delusional and overambitious but I figured what the hell! It fits right in with my super busy schedule and I really believe, with help from my husband, that these goals are attainable. I am a list person, so here we go . . .
1.) Write every day - it could be a blurb, blog post, journal, plotline for a new novel idea. Doesn't matter. Just get it in writing! It's been difficult these past two years to get in a writing schedule but I plan on joining Hart's writing sprints since they don't take up so much time and many have commented that these are really helpful in establishing a routine.
2.) Go to Hawaii for my 10th Anniversary - It was where we wanted to go for our honeymoon when we first married. However, we couldn't afford it and decided on going to Puerto Rico, instead. I'm researching renting a vacation home for 7 days, booking the flight and car rental. That's my plan for this trip so far.
3.) Buy a home or condo - My husband and I have been doing the research for two years and now I think in 2012, we are ready to make the commitment.
4.) Change my health habits - I want to live longer! I want to spend more years with hubby and see my kids grow into awesome adults.
a.) Eat better - more whole grains, vegetables and water
b.) Stop smoking -this is a big one and I know it's not going to be easy
c.) Exercise - get into a routine of 3 times per week and slowly increase
d.) Lose the weight so that I don't have to take high blood pressure medication.
Wow! Delusional to do all at once but I think I'll just change one thing at a time. Once I get one of these factors under control, I'll tackle another one.
5.) Finances - I've already begun this but want to tighten them as we will need a hefty down payment for the house. I figured we could stop eating out so much (maybe bring it down to once per week), pay double the minimum payment for credit cards, and don't make any unnecessary purchases without thinking about it for at least 30 days. I figured if I wait a month, I may not even want that item any more.
These are my five ambitious goals for this year. I've broken them down further on paper with the steps on how to achieve them but I didn't want to bore anyone with the details.
What are your goals for 2012? We at the Burrow would like to know. :D
12 January 2012
Dear Fairy Godmuther,
Or should I say Godmonster...
Consider this your final warning. You have fallen down on the job. Spiraled out of the sky and splashed a big pile of POO all over me. This is the last straw! Well, or the last one before the next one, so maybe what I should be saying is this is the penultimate straw... penultimate being such a great word and all... but somehow with straw, it loses some of its Mojo, doesn't it?... penultimate straw isn't as powerful as LAST. But never mind.
See. This is what I'm talking about. Do you SEE how jumbled my mind is at the moment? I can't concentrate. Not even a little. And I am laying this on YOU.
See, I was minding my own business, polishing a pretty good book for ABNA, trying to craft my pitch... when... no wait... it started before that...
See, the money problems have been so persistent so long that I almost forget to mention them, but this more recent stuff compounds it all, so I need to have set the stage, yeah? So we're poor. We have a plan, but the plan requires VERY tight belts for a few YEARS into our future. So that's the setting...
[Note, too that ALL THREE of the last three paragraphs start with the same word. How distracted does a person have to be for THAT to happen? A writer, no less.]
NOW we get to minding my own business prepping for ABNA...
When I get the CALL from my agent that EDITS are needed on the book I turned in in September. Not tiny little edits... fairly substantial ones. Damn. Now. DAMN.
But there's no shame in a U-turn, right? (or a U-turn left, actually—a U-turn right might cause an accident, but I digress)... So I U-turn and get to work on the DONE BOOK I ALREADY CROSSED OFF MY DARNED LIST. Setting me back a little, yeah?
Did I mention I am reading an 800 page borrowed book, so my time is slightly reduced? No? Well that's fine... that part isn't really on the Fairy Godmonster's head. So never mind.
But THEN... THEN... grrrrrrrrrr.
Hubby went and had a medical emergency and is having some sort of chronic crisis. The ER visit and ambulance ride were enough, but he is a caretaker and until he gets this resolved he can't work—do you see it? The part where the MONEY trouble is compounded? At least two weeks with no pay at all and potentially a reduced schedule after that because STRESS is part of the root of his problem (3-12 hour days in a row caring for someone is stressful—who knew?). But he is sickly and down and NEEDY at the moment, so wants to talk about EVERYTHING. ALL THE TIME. Which is leaving me both with less time for my stuff, and with a head full of HIS stuff when I get a little time. I know I sound like a bitch there... I should be a goodly caretaker, but HE'S the caretaker in the family. THAT is our arrangement! (and I'm TIRED, which has been known to make me pretty punchy.)
So what I want to know is this.
Why the heck have you not been watching my back? Fairy Godmothers who are NOT frauds can mitigate disasters and make NICE things happen rather than lousy ones. Why couldn't you have just done a spell that would give me a good poke on my sixteenth birthday like everybody else gets? Or better yet, why can't you just am-scray and I will take Meriwether.
(and for your information, Meriwether is the fierce one in blue (the one who managed to alter YOUR spell to change death to sleep)--Flora is in red and Fauna is in green--fierce is better than nice, but MEAN AND ROTTEN SUCKS ROCKS!)
Dissatisfied in Ann Arbor,
Hart
05 January 2012
Critter Love
So, pets. I could make up some statistics, but you guys are too smart for that, and I'm too lazy to look up the real numbers, but I'm going to take a guess that about 80% of people have some sort of animal sharing their living space (no, siblings and/or offspring do not actually count as animals, no matter how uncivilized they are...). Cats, dogs, fish, hamsters, birds, hedgehogs... people love their critters.
But do the critters love us back?
I came home from work yesterday after being out from about 7:30 AM till 11:00 PM (save about 20 minutes in between jobs when I popped in), and when I opened my door, there were two kitties waiting for me, purring, mewing, and generally getting underfoot. Hey, I thought, they missed me! What poor lonely little things... and I proceeded to give them large amounts of scritches and pats. Then I got upstairs... and realized their food dish was empty. The little moochers were just hungry!
But do the critters love us back?
I came home from work yesterday after being out from about 7:30 AM till 11:00 PM (save about 20 minutes in between jobs when I popped in), and when I opened my door, there were two kitties waiting for me, purring, mewing, and generally getting underfoot. Hey, I thought, they missed me! What poor lonely little things... and I proceeded to give them large amounts of scritches and pats. Then I got upstairs... and realized their food dish was empty. The little moochers were just hungry!
This is Durwen. He doesn't actually know how to use that touchpad.
Okay, so clearly I'm not as important as food in their tiny fuzzy minds. But they care, right? I mean, I've got one on my right arm and one sprawled across my lap as I'm attempting to type this (albeit in a rather round-about {or at least round-a-cat}) manner. Durwen gives rather too many scratchy kitty kisses; Rullie is becoming increasingly difficult to eject from my lap when I need to do things other than scratch behind her ears. They seem to have some sort of time-share worked out for my pillow - half the time, the cat who's on there when I wake up is not the cat who was on there when I fell asleep.
So maybe they do love me, after all.
This is Rullie (with the knited Dalek I posted about last year...).
I suppose there's no way to tell, really... so I'm going to declare that pets do love us, based on limited and probably faulty research. But it's hard to say anything else when a large purring furball has taken up residence in your lap and is giving scratchy kisses to every body part in his reach...
01 January 2012
delusional much?
OK - I totally blew it again. Please forgive me as my mind was addled on too much sugar. Too much booze, too much fun, too much socializing, just plain tooo toooo much.
I'm going to join some of my friends in what is affectionately called 'Buddhist Lent'. We will abstain from harmful substances from one New Year (this Roman one - January 1st) to Shambhala Day or the Tibetan New Year which falls on February 22nd this year. Am I delusional to think I can do this for 51 days? Maybe. I will start tomorrow and give it a try. I feel all yucked up with sugary stuff, boozy stuff and wheaty stuff. I want to be a mean clean fighting machine by the Year of the Water Dragon. I want to be ready for whatever this year throws me. And I'll continue to keep both my meditation practice and my writing one too. And oh, yeah, a clean house. Or a sort of clean house. I'm well on my way to that one.
Here's a picture of what I made over the Christmas season...
I'm going to join some of my friends in what is affectionately called 'Buddhist Lent'. We will abstain from harmful substances from one New Year (this Roman one - January 1st) to Shambhala Day or the Tibetan New Year which falls on February 22nd this year. Am I delusional to think I can do this for 51 days? Maybe. I will start tomorrow and give it a try. I feel all yucked up with sugary stuff, boozy stuff and wheaty stuff. I want to be a mean clean fighting machine by the Year of the Water Dragon. I want to be ready for whatever this year throws me. And I'll continue to keep both my meditation practice and my writing one too. And oh, yeah, a clean house. Or a sort of clean house. I'm well on my way to that one.
Here's a picture of what I made over the Christmas season...
22 December 2011
Procrastibaking In Practise
There is no escaping it - Christmas is approaching. Okay, I'll admit, it's not even approaching anymore - it's here!!! In just a few short days, the superstar of the holidays, the diva, is upon us. With all its stress, commercialism, tacky decorations, stressed out housewives and sugar-high children.
I find, though, that it is important to remember that there is a reason Christmas is the diva. There are some redeeming factors. Family gatherings, great food, the joy of - not just receiving, but - giving. Christmas is all about traditions, and it's important to find your own; traditions you are happy with, traditions that don't just stress you out, but also ensure that you can enjoy this time of year.
One such tradition, to me, is baking. Unfortunately, this year I won't have the time to do much of that. Thus, instead I will share with you a great recipe I've come across, so that maybe you can enjoy it, even if I can't:
Fruitcake recipe
Ingredients
Sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Take a large bowl. Check the whiskey again to be sure that it is of the highest quality.
Pour 1 level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer; beat 1 cup butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add 1 teaspoon sugar and beat again. Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Break two legs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift 2 cups of salt. Or something. Who cares. Check the whiskey.
Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.
Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window. Check the whiskey again.
Go to bed. Who the hell likes fruitcake anyway?
(Borrowed from http://homecooking.about.com/library/archive/bljoke1.htm)
Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Whatever Greeting Makes You Feel The Least Offended!
I find, though, that it is important to remember that there is a reason Christmas is the diva. There are some redeeming factors. Family gatherings, great food, the joy of - not just receiving, but - giving. Christmas is all about traditions, and it's important to find your own; traditions you are happy with, traditions that don't just stress you out, but also ensure that you can enjoy this time of year.
One such tradition, to me, is baking. Unfortunately, this year I won't have the time to do much of that. Thus, instead I will share with you a great recipe I've come across, so that maybe you can enjoy it, even if I can't:
Fruitcake recipe
Ingredients
1 cup water 1 cup sugar 4 large eggs 2 cup dried fruit 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup brown sugar lemon juice nuts 1 gallon whiskey
Instructions
Sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Take a large bowl. Check the whiskey again to be sure that it is of the highest quality.
Pour 1 level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer; beat 1 cup butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add 1 teaspoon sugar and beat again. Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Break two legs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift 2 cups of salt. Or something. Who cares. Check the whiskey.
Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.
Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window. Check the whiskey again.
Go to bed. Who the hell likes fruitcake anyway?
(Borrowed from http://homecooking.about.com/library/archive/bljoke1.htm)
Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Whatever Greeting Makes You Feel The Least Offended!
15 December 2011
Doot doo, doodoodoo...
Mahna mahna!
Okay, so I originally just stuck that in here as a placeholder so I wouldn't forget to write my post, but what the hell, it's Delusional Thursday and I want a mahna mahna!
Whatever that is.
It was a regular random insertion into conversations when I was a kid - boring car ride? Mahna mahna! Awkward silence? Mahna mahna! Sister getting on my nerves again? Mahna mahna!
It has recently resurfaced with the new Muppets movie, and you know what? That makes me very happy. It is a piece of silliness from my childhood brought forward into a new millennium, it is my obsession du jour (de la semaine?), and it is so off-the-wall that it can be added to nearly anything.
Then there's the fact that it's the holiday season and I work retail in addition to my more artistic pursuits, and sometimes nothing expresses my feelings about a particular customer or situation better than a heartfelt MAHNA MAHNA!
And for those poor benighted souls who have somehow missed out on the whole phenomenon, here you go - the original Muppet Mahna Mahna!
(I picked this one 'cause it's 2:26 long... and that's my birthday, so you know what, it's like, a sign, man! Right? Right!? Oh... mahna mahna! :-P )
Okay, so I originally just stuck that in here as a placeholder so I wouldn't forget to write my post, but what the hell, it's Delusional Thursday and I want a mahna mahna!
Whatever that is.
It was a regular random insertion into conversations when I was a kid - boring car ride? Mahna mahna! Awkward silence? Mahna mahna! Sister getting on my nerves again? Mahna mahna!
It has recently resurfaced with the new Muppets movie, and you know what? That makes me very happy. It is a piece of silliness from my childhood brought forward into a new millennium, it is my obsession du jour (de la semaine?), and it is so off-the-wall that it can be added to nearly anything.
Then there's the fact that it's the holiday season and I work retail in addition to my more artistic pursuits, and sometimes nothing expresses my feelings about a particular customer or situation better than a heartfelt MAHNA MAHNA!
And for those poor benighted souls who have somehow missed out on the whole phenomenon, here you go - the original Muppet Mahna Mahna!
(I picked this one 'cause it's 2:26 long... and that's my birthday, so you know what, it's like, a sign, man! Right? Right!? Oh... mahna mahna! :-P )
08 December 2011
Delusional Thursday: Delusions of Affluence
If I won the lottery . . .
My husband and I have discussed this in great detail. It would help if I played or participated in any way shape or form in the lottery- but that's neither here nor there. Here is how it would go down. . .
- Open up trust funds for my kids so they don't blow through it all. They can't touch it until they are 26 (with the condition that they each graduate with a bachelor's and master's degree). Yeah, I know- a bit harsh but I want them to understand the value of money and good credit.
- Take a leave of absence and go with hubby to Bora Bora. I have always wanted to go to the Tahitian Islands. An over-the-water bungalow preferably so I could snorkel and enjoy the sea life.
- I would not resign from the Department of Education, but there would be some serious changes at my school. I would buy the parking lot behind Chelsea High School and build a state of the art physical education facility. I would also have an art studio installed with all types of machines (kilns, pottery stations, etc.). There would also be a music studio and I would ask the principal to hire a music teacher. As you can tell, the high school in which I teach does not have any of these luxuries.
- I would NOT work summer school and write to my heart's content. I would be able to write in any setting in the world while sipping on cosmopolitan's. This is a biggie for me since at the moment, I do not have enough time for my writing. I'm too busy being mom, wife, teacher, daughter and everything else under the sun. I would probably be able to finish an entire book in a year. *gets teary eyed just thinking about it*
- I would donate a large portion to the AIDS Foundation and the American Diabetes Association.
- I don't know if it's possible but I would get my loved one a spleen transplant so that he would not have to take insulin anymore. I suppose it may be possible since in this technologically and medically aged, doctors can transplant hearts lungs kidneys and livers.
- I would buy a house and make it eco-friendly. I want everything from wind turbines for clean energy to water barrels filled with rain water (to be used for the lawn or toilet water).
What would you do if you won the lottery? It's nice to dream a little dream from time to time.
Don't forget to visit The Burrow for our December Advent Calendar!
Image courtesy of Public Domain Images.
01 December 2011
December Drabble Dance
Welcome to December! December for the Burrow is a month we've managed to create a bit of a tradition. We have a website where we publish group projects, now and again. And each December, we do a sort of Advent Calendar. It isn't Advent in the religious sense of the word, as we don't stop at Christmas, but each day in December, we reveal a new Drabble related to images that have been chosen by the author. It's a fun little 'new surprise each day' venture and we'd like to share it with you. To get you in the mood, I've got a couple drabbles here. BUT... it's possible I'm insane. It IS delusional Thursday after all... so the drabbles on our Advent Calendar will assuredly be better and more thought out... (even mine).
Delirious Dream Drabble*
A girl is asleep, she's dreaming of pompons
A boy is asleep, he's dreaming of longjohns
It's all well and good, when a girl jumps and struts
And nothing goes wrong when a boy warms his butt
But when boys start pomponning and girls start longjohnning
The rest of us sure better get long-gone-goning
Because boys with their pompons, then act like sluts
And girls who try longjohns can't cover their butts**
Before you decide to ignore this as fluff
And think I've come up with it off of the cuff
I'm telling you now, I know about this stuff!
*Inspired by Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book
** inspired by an episode of trying to wear my husband's longjohns under my running pants. Boys have more belly. Girls have more butt. Nuff said.
Delusional Drabble
Once upon a time, there were four score young blondes and brunettes, all between ages sixteen and nineteen and a half... strike that. The Burrow is a Bustling Band of Beautiful Babes who love books and erm... what's a writing word that starts with B? Damn. Tell them I have a PR background and they all want to put me to work. We write. We critique. We support. And now we're famous. Every last one of us has published alone, and as of December 1, 2015, we have officially published our Coffee Table book of images and accompanying drabbles. Erm.
(did I mention drabbles are usually fiction? We DO though, talk about this from time to time...)
So now don't you have a REALLY strong urge to go read a BETTER Drabble? Come on. I'm sure you do...
http://www.the-burrow.org/
17 November 2011
Wild Week
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| Original image. |
It seems like only yesterday that I last wrote a Delusional Thursday post, when in fact it was several weeks ago. The days are flying by so fast at the moment, that I'm pretty sure that if I blinked I would miss a few. I'm always saying that I'm a bit of a fruitcake, but seriously, with the rate that time goes by, and the amount of things I have to fit into those blink-and-you'll-miss-them days, it's no wonder my head doesn't always know where it's at.
Take the last week, for example. We are currently in high virus season, with bug after nasty bug making their rounds and causing most people to sniff, sneeze and cough on a regular basis. We are also in pre-Christmas season, so public transport is nuts, kids are starting to get hyper, and parents everywhere (including moi) are working any extra hours that they can get their hands on in order to fill their children's stockings to the brim.
On top of this, my household are part-way through a hospital/doctor/dentist visit marathon, or so it seems. Now usually I only work three days a week, so I normally try to schedule any medical appointments to fall on my days off if at all possible. That's not always the case though, as certain appointments are assigned to you and you end up back on a (usually long) waiting list if you try to re-schedule. This being the case, my timetable for last week went something like this:
Wednesday 9th November: No work today, but dreaded dentist visit looms. Six injections in my lower mouth and one in the top to be endured before a twenty-minute scale and polish session. I'm mortally afraid of dentists, by the way, so while this wouldn't be anyone's favourite way to spend their morning, it's one of my worst nightmares. I'm still cringing now, over a week later. *shudders*
Thursday 10th November: Normal working day, with a 12pm till 6pm shift. So far so good.
Friday 11th November: Normal working day, with a little bitty 2pm till 6pm shift. Son was supposed to have an orthodontist appointment today which had to be rescheduled due to him having to sit a G.C.S.E. exam. Son is really poorly with flu-like symptoms, but has to attend the exam or I will be fined. Meanwhile, hubby is being a good friend and accompanying his mate to the dental hospital for some emergency treatment. Son is sent home from school as he is ill. I am at work and hubby is still being a good friend, so son is told to go to nanny's. Unfortunately, he goes to wrong nanny's (unbeknown to his parents), so we have mild panic attacks about his whereabouts and start wondering if he has collapsed somewhere on the streets. Or, at least, I do anyway. It's not good to be stuck at work when you are worrying about your kids.
Saturday 12th November: Crazily said 'yes' to overtime and have to work the 2pm till 10pm shift. The shift went like clockwork until 9.30pm, then everything went tits up (as we say here in Cardiff). I won't go into detail, but needless to say, I won't be working this shift again any time soon.
Sunday 13th November: Another overtime shift of 2pm till 10pm. OK, so I said I wouldn't do another one again, but I'd already agreed to do this one so I had no choice. The shift was fine in itself, but not being used to working these extra hours, I'm pretty tired. Especially as Sundays are nuts at the best of times for parents, what with school preparations and what-not, which usually take up Sunday evenings but had to be squeezed into a crazy hour in the morning before I left for work.
Monday 14th November: Normal working day, with a 12pm till 6pm shift. Also, appointment at doctor's for myself fitted in before going to work.
Tuesday 15th November: Day off! Yay! Only, Tuesday is shopping day, when I do my weekly thing of hunting for bargains and trying to buy a week's worth of groceries on a limited budget. Also, hospital appointment for myself to have my wrist x-rayed as I've been having a lot of trouble with it for the last five months or so.
Wednesday 16th November: Day off! No work, no hospitals, dentists, or any other appointments. Maybe I can actually clean my house and relax for a couple of hours. Only, son is home from school again, his cough having kept him up all night and causing some sickness. Hubby is also full of the stupid virus and sneezing and coughing like mad. Daughter is also home for a while as I am waiting for the doctor to phone back with some advice for her. Eventually I take her to school an hour late and then make my way to the doctor's to pick up a prescription for her. So much for my doctor-free day.
Today my son had another orthodontist appointment, which had to be cancelled due to his virus. Hubby has dentist again tomorrow (he went yesterday too, did I forget to mention that?), and I am working overtime again both Saturday and Sunday. Not the dreaded 2pm till 10pm shifts, but early morning ones instead. Then my son has a hospital appointment with his A.D.H.D. specialist on Monday.
Phew! OK, this might not sound too much to most of you, but trying to remember all of these appointments when a) not all of them sent written notice of them, and b) I am a nightmare when it comes to writing things down, can be tricky. Re-scheduling things to fit in with my regular hours can also be tiresome. Add the overtime at work, and the annoyance of public transport not arriving when it should at this time of year, then this last week has been manic.
I admit, things are not always like this, but if it's not medical madness, or overtime madness, it's general family madness. It's no wonder I'm a fruitcake!
03 November 2011
27 October 2011
Delusional Co-workers.
You already know I'm delusional, but did you know that the people that I work with are delusional too? So delusional, in fact, that we have created another person. *nods*
This is Eric Spartan. To you he may be just a balloon with a blue wig, but to us he is Eric, zombie hunter extraordinaire. Okay, so the zombie part may be down to me *shifty*, but it was a friend who actually created Eric one night at work, while it was another friend who suggested zombies for one of my blogs and therefore gave me the idea to combine zombies and a blue-haired balloon into a fully fledged character.
He reads.
And he likes a drink or two.
Most important of all, he hunts zombies with one of my kitchen knives.
He's a good bloke, our Eric. And he fits in really well with me and my delusional friends.
This is Eric Spartan. To you he may be just a balloon with a blue wig, but to us he is Eric, zombie hunter extraordinaire. Okay, so the zombie part may be down to me *shifty*, but it was a friend who actually created Eric one night at work, while it was another friend who suggested zombies for one of my blogs and therefore gave me the idea to combine zombies and a blue-haired balloon into a fully fledged character.
He reads.
And he likes a drink or two.
Most important of all, he hunts zombies with one of my kitchen knives.
He's a good bloke, our Eric. And he fits in really well with me and my delusional friends.
20 October 2011
Delusional Thursday: An Alien Abduction
For some reason, I thought Thursday fell on Friday. An easy mistake to make, right?
So, running a bit late, I'm going to post a raw transcript of my most recent alien abduction experience. I'd originally planned to edit this and write it up as a more interesting story, but at least this way you can read all of the sordid details uncensored.
SUBJECT 147: Oohh... my head. [moaning, something unintelligible] Are you going to hurt me?
CAPTAIN MAL: Z`ww apa^a kho ypsin o'h''ll nd configure the translator. Please restate.
SUBJECT 147: Are you going to hurt me?
CAPTAIN MAL: Not intentionally.
SUBJECT 147: Where am I?
CAPTAIN MAL: [muffled hum in the background] One moment. [clicking noise] What do you think?
SUBJECT 147: I think you're, um, an alien.
CAPTAIN MAL: Not, perhaps, a demon?
SUBJECT 147: Uh, no. What-- why would I think that?
CAPTAIN MAL: [scratching noise] Excellent. We may assume your planet has at least nominal technology. Tell me about your species.
SUBJECT 147: You don't... am I the first one you abducted?
CAPTAIN MAL: I'm asking the questions, here. Please make no assumptions and answer to the best of your ability.
SUBJECT 147: Um, okay. We're, uh... a peaceful people.
CAPTAIN MAL: Bullshit.
SUBJECT 147: What?
CAPTAIN MAL: A truly peaceful species, lacking the concept of war, would not think to say such a thing.
SUBJECT 147: Um, we're mostly-- we try to be peaceful.
CAPTAIN MAL: Really? My species is quite warlike. And yet, with your allegedly peaceful nature freeing up more resources for development, we've surpassed you to the extent that I am the abductor and you are the abductee. How do you explain that?
SUBJECT 147: I don't-- um, maybe you're older. You know, your sun and stuff, and your planet formed before ours did.
CAPTAIN MAL: Are you seriously blaming your sun for your developmental ineptitude?
SUBJECT 147: [mumbling]
CAPTAIN MAL: Tell me, if we were to invade, where on your planet would be most vulnerable to a preemptive orbital bombing strike?
SUBJECT 147: Um... please don't---
CAPTAIN MAL: Hah! I'm joking. Location is irrelevant, as a mere fraction of our arsenal could bomb your entire planet into a state of uninhabitability.
SUBJECT 147: My God, that's sick!
CAPTAIN MAL: Yes. Moving on, then, let's try some word association. I'm going to say a word, and then I want you to say the first word that comes to mind, whatever it is, without hesitation. Understand?
SUBJECT 147: Um, yes.
CAPTAIN MAL: Hands--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.
CAPTAIN MAL: Sex--
SUBJECT 147: Love.
CAPTAIN MAL: Copulation--
SUBJECT 147: Um, sex.
CAPTAIN MAL: Toes--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.
CAPTAIN MAL: Fornication--
SUBJECT 147: Sex.
CAPTAIN MAL: Shoes--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.
CAPTAIN MAL: Intercourse--
SUBJECT 147: Um, copulation.
CAPTAIN MAL: [scratching noise] You've got quite the fetish, my friend.
SUBJECT 147: I don't-- no, I don't.
CAPTAIN MAL: Let's proceed with the physical examination. [buzzing noise, dripping liquid]
SUBJECT 147: [long pause] Please don't probe my anus.
CAPTAIN MAL: Oh fer-- I did that one time! I mistook it for the nourishment entrance.
SUBJECT 147: I'm not hungry!
CAPTAIN MAL: Try to relax. I'm going to move into the light, now. Don't be alarmed by my appearance.
SUBJECT 147: [gulps] You're so... hairless. Except the top of your, um, head.
CAPTAIN MAL: We evolved away from excessive hair because it harbored parasites. But if you think about it, we're actually quite similar.
SUBJECT 147: What's that triangle thingy above your mouth?
CAPTAIN MAL: An external olfactory organ. Now, be quiet and hold still.
SUBJECT 147: [whimpers] Please...
CAPTAIN MAL: Chill out. I'm already finished. [scratching noise] What is your given name among your kind?
SUBJECT 147: Miklazg. Miklazg Gwivver.
CAPTAIN MAL: Well, Miklazg-miklazg-gwivver, my name is "Jason". Can you pronounce that?
SUBJECT 147: [garbled]
CAPTAIN MAL: Our session is nearly finished. Now I will allow you to ask one question of me.
SUBJECT 147: Oh, wow. Um, let me think. [pause] How many-- no, wait. [long pause] How can we make contact with an intelligent species? Beyond our own planet?
CAPTAIN MAL: Interesting. [scratching noise, muffled beep]
SUBJECT 147: Well? How can we do it?
CAPTAIN MAL: I said nothing about providing an answer. Please lay back while I anaesthetize you for the return journey.
SUBJECT 147: Are you going to, um, erase my memories?
CAPTAIN MAL: Ah, that! No, we have a simple, new technique that ensures our security and anonymity whilst addressing all of our concerns about your mental well-being.
SUBJECT 147: What's that? The techinque?
CAPTAIN MAL: We do nothing. No one of intelligence will believe you.
SUBJECT 147: Oh. Right. And my, um, mental well-being...?
CAPTAIN MAL: --does not concern us at all.
I enjoyed my visit with Miklazg-miklazg-gwivver, but I had to let the poor bastard go before completing the full routine. Sometimes they're just too tense about the anal probe. But I'll get the next one.
Cheers,
Jason
So, running a bit late, I'm going to post a raw transcript of my most recent alien abduction experience. I'd originally planned to edit this and write it up as a more interesting story, but at least this way you can read all of the sordid details uncensored.
SUBJECT 147: Oohh... my head. [moaning, something unintelligible] Are you going to hurt me?
CAPTAIN MAL: Z`ww apa^a kho ypsin o'h''ll nd configure the translator. Please restate.
SUBJECT 147: Are you going to hurt me?
CAPTAIN MAL: Not intentionally.
SUBJECT 147: Where am I?
CAPTAIN MAL: [muffled hum in the background] One moment. [clicking noise] What do you think?
SUBJECT 147: I think you're, um, an alien.
CAPTAIN MAL: Not, perhaps, a demon?
SUBJECT 147: Uh, no. What-- why would I think that?
CAPTAIN MAL: [scratching noise] Excellent. We may assume your planet has at least nominal technology. Tell me about your species.
SUBJECT 147: You don't... am I the first one you abducted?
CAPTAIN MAL: I'm asking the questions, here. Please make no assumptions and answer to the best of your ability.
SUBJECT 147: Um, okay. We're, uh... a peaceful people.
CAPTAIN MAL: Bullshit.
SUBJECT 147: What?
CAPTAIN MAL: A truly peaceful species, lacking the concept of war, would not think to say such a thing.
SUBJECT 147: Um, we're mostly-- we try to be peaceful.
CAPTAIN MAL: Really? My species is quite warlike. And yet, with your allegedly peaceful nature freeing up more resources for development, we've surpassed you to the extent that I am the abductor and you are the abductee. How do you explain that?
SUBJECT 147: I don't-- um, maybe you're older. You know, your sun and stuff, and your planet formed before ours did.
CAPTAIN MAL: Are you seriously blaming your sun for your developmental ineptitude?
SUBJECT 147: [mumbling]
CAPTAIN MAL: Tell me, if we were to invade, where on your planet would be most vulnerable to a preemptive orbital bombing strike?
SUBJECT 147: Um... please don't---
CAPTAIN MAL: Hah! I'm joking. Location is irrelevant, as a mere fraction of our arsenal could bomb your entire planet into a state of uninhabitability.
SUBJECT 147: My God, that's sick!
CAPTAIN MAL: Yes. Moving on, then, let's try some word association. I'm going to say a word, and then I want you to say the first word that comes to mind, whatever it is, without hesitation. Understand?
SUBJECT 147: Um, yes.
CAPTAIN MAL: Hands--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.
CAPTAIN MAL: Sex--
SUBJECT 147: Love.
CAPTAIN MAL: Copulation--
SUBJECT 147: Um, sex.
CAPTAIN MAL: Toes--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.
CAPTAIN MAL: Fornication--
SUBJECT 147: Sex.
CAPTAIN MAL: Shoes--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.
CAPTAIN MAL: Intercourse--
SUBJECT 147: Um, copulation.
CAPTAIN MAL: [scratching noise] You've got quite the fetish, my friend.
SUBJECT 147: I don't-- no, I don't.
CAPTAIN MAL: Let's proceed with the physical examination. [buzzing noise, dripping liquid]
SUBJECT 147: [long pause] Please don't probe my anus.
CAPTAIN MAL: Oh fer-- I did that one time! I mistook it for the nourishment entrance.
SUBJECT 147: I'm not hungry!
CAPTAIN MAL: Try to relax. I'm going to move into the light, now. Don't be alarmed by my appearance.
SUBJECT 147: [gulps] You're so... hairless. Except the top of your, um, head.
CAPTAIN MAL: We evolved away from excessive hair because it harbored parasites. But if you think about it, we're actually quite similar.
SUBJECT 147: What's that triangle thingy above your mouth?
CAPTAIN MAL: An external olfactory organ. Now, be quiet and hold still.
SUBJECT 147: [whimpers] Please...
CAPTAIN MAL: Chill out. I'm already finished. [scratching noise] What is your given name among your kind?
SUBJECT 147: Miklazg. Miklazg Gwivver.
CAPTAIN MAL: Well, Miklazg-miklazg-gwivver, my name is "Jason". Can you pronounce that?
SUBJECT 147: [garbled]
CAPTAIN MAL: Our session is nearly finished. Now I will allow you to ask one question of me.
SUBJECT 147: Oh, wow. Um, let me think. [pause] How many-- no, wait. [long pause] How can we make contact with an intelligent species? Beyond our own planet?
CAPTAIN MAL: Interesting. [scratching noise, muffled beep]
SUBJECT 147: Well? How can we do it?
CAPTAIN MAL: I said nothing about providing an answer. Please lay back while I anaesthetize you for the return journey.
SUBJECT 147: Are you going to, um, erase my memories?
CAPTAIN MAL: Ah, that! No, we have a simple, new technique that ensures our security and anonymity whilst addressing all of our concerns about your mental well-being.
SUBJECT 147: What's that? The techinque?
CAPTAIN MAL: We do nothing. No one of intelligence will believe you.
SUBJECT 147: Oh. Right. And my, um, mental well-being...?
CAPTAIN MAL: --does not concern us at all.
I enjoyed my visit with Miklazg-miklazg-gwivver, but I had to let the poor bastard go before completing the full routine. Sometimes they're just too tense about the anal probe. But I'll get the next one.
Cheers,
Jason
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