Reviewing the new Star Trek movie

Over the weekend Keisha and I fully intended to go and watch Avatar, but things took a turn and we didn't get to go watch it. Instead we wound up renting the new Star Trek movie, directed by J.J. Abrams.

To be fair, I've never watched a single episode or movie of the Star Trek franchise. What I know about it ("Beam me up, Scotty," phasers, "Live Long and Prosper," and Klingon) all comes from being ingrained into pop-culture. Plus, as a lifetime STAR WARS fan, I just assumed Star Trek was my arch-enemy. That said, I now offer my review of the newest franchise film.

Star Trek begins with an exciting action sequence, filled with beautiful space imagery and fantastic technology. This spectacular display of future technology does not cease throughout the film, and it doesn't get old, either. The Starfleet spacecraft U.S.S. Enterprise, as well as the Romulun ship the Narada, are both visually stunning. The special effects throughout the film were all well done and only slightly cheesy a few times (a green-skinned woman? What?). Watching the fate of Vulcan was mesmerizing. Overall, I found the imagery of the movie Grade A eye candy.

The second aspect of the film I enjoyed was the intense action scenes. The few battle scenes between individuals, especially when the Starfleet crew arrived at Vulcan, were all entertaining to watch (albeit not as exciting as a lightsaber duel, but that's a different matter entirely). Abrams pumped adrenaline throughout the movie, and anyone seeking an action movie would surely enjoy this film.

For the most part the plot of the film was enjoyable, too, but not completely. To remain spoiler free there was a large problem with physics and continuity and reality that I felt would have been better explained using a different mechanism. The red-matter technology had some cool stuff to it, but the implications regarding timelines felt a bit too much. Sometimes this mechanism works (like Lost) and sometimes it doesn't (like Heroes). Besides this, the story of Kirk and Spock were both intriguing, and if you could forget about some things the conquest of the Romulans was cool, too.

In the end, Star Trek was a worthwhile movie to watch. I was entertained and thought the special effects were amazing. The story was good, but not great, due to a few fickle things I didn't like. Keisha, on the other hand, had no problems with it, so take my opinion with a grain of salt. If you're looking for a thrill-ride, sci-fi, eye-pleasing movie to watch during the Christmas season that's available on DVD, I'd recommend Star Trek.

Random Bits and Pieces

• Nearly finished with Warbreaker. Hopefully will be before the weekend.
• Blue Mtn. Dew is definitely not the best Dew out there.
• Those who are dead are just living in my head.
• I joined a gym over the weekend.
• I joined Sams Club over the weekend.
  

Weekend Special: Current thoughts on Warbreaker

This post will definitely contain spoilers.  If you’ve not read Brandon Sanderson’s Warbreaker I would strongly urge you to skip this post. 

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I am currently on Chapter 36.  Wow.  That’s really about all I can say right now, especially considering the events that just happened in the previous chapter.  All along I’ve really liked the mercenaries, but I honestly have to say I suspected something like this.  Definitely not exactly like what happened, but that they were more sinister than they appeared.  I still wonder about Denth’s past.  I’m looking forward to Vivenna learning how to use her Breath.

I’m really curious to learn more about Vasher, too.  There have been only a few short pages devoted to him and it’s driving me crazy.  Is he bad?  Is he good?  Is he apathetic?  What the heck’s up with that sword?  All in due time I’ll find out, I suppose.

I really like the turn of events for Siri and Susebron.  I find their relationship sweet and enjoyable, and I’ve laughed a bit, too, at the God Kings’ naïveté.  I’m not sure what will happen to Susebron and I don’t know how to guess.  Hopefully he doesn’t die.

Lightsong is still getting on my nerves, though not as much as earlier in the book.  I still think his character is really weak and annoying.  His quest to learn more about his past is slightly interesting, but his involvement with Blushweaver is eye-rolling.  So is Blushweaver, for that matter.  I’m sure the Returned will play a crucial part in whatever is going to happen, but so far I could care less for any of them.  If Lightsong would just stop acting like an immature, flippant, uncaring person then I’d be happy.

I like the mystery and secrecy with all the priests and servants, too.  Not sure really what’s going to happen with them or who to trust, but I pretty much don’t trust Scoot.  Surely he can’t care about Lightsong.

Anyway, these are my thoughts.  If you’ve read the book, chime in.  If not, I hope you didn’t read this post and that you aren’t reading this paragraph.

An Apology to MUSE

I feel like I owe the band Muse an apology.  Back when I finished up my iPod journey I didn’t really know the band very well.  I had heard a song or two from them and thought they were pretty cool, but not enough to truly enjoy the rest of their catalog.  But a strange and marvelous thing happened soon after.

I decided to listen to them a bit more.  Their music was powerful, the vocals were strong, and the interesting song titles were alluring.  That said, I soon found myself loving them.  Absolution is a fantastic album with songs that blow me away.  There are days that go by and I can’t get “Thoughts of a Dying Atheist” out of my head.  Black Holes and Revelations is another awesome album, complete with the beautiful “Knights of Cydonia.”

So Muse, let me apologize.  I’m sorry for not ranking you higher on my iPod journey (#99, #112, #268, #273).  I’m sure if and when I plow through my iPod again you’ll rank higher.  I don’t know what was wrong with me then for not liking you.  You’re obviously very talented and make great records.  Keep up the good work, fellas, and thanks for the excellent albums.

Okay, now I feel better that that’s out of my system.  Now I should put up a small album of pictures taken with my new camera.

Last night I had another close call with something that could’ve been worse than what it was.  I decided to grill some porkchops.  I turned on the gas, flipped the switches to Pre-Heat, waited a few seconds, and hit ignite.  The grill didn’t light.  I tried this a few more times, then decided to close the lid and build up a little gas and light it that way.  Again, nothing happened.  Frustrated (and hungry), I pulled out the candle lighter and stuck it in the grill to light.  I thought enough of the built-up gas had vanished.  Well, the fireball that shot out of my grill and engulfed my right arm proved me wrong.  I squealed and dropped the lighter, but the grill was lit!  The exposed skin on my arm (my wrist and hand) had all of the hair singed off.  It smelled awful and felt oddly smooth and strangely ultra-sensitive.  Now, looking down at my hands I can tell one is different.  If only Keisha would’ve recorded it…

That’s it for now.  Got a busy day.  Looking at a new project at work.  Taking Keisha and Stella out tonight to look at Christmas lights.  Possibly going to see Avatar tomorrow.  Possibly helping Banjo & Kazooie defeat Grunty.  Maybe playing some Oblivion, too, who knows.  Definitely some more Warbreaker.  Okay.  I’m leaving now.  Sorry for the weak post, but ‘tis the season.  So long for now.

Totally the BEST Post You’ll Ever Read, An Amazing Happenstance

Okay, not so amazing.  But still cool.  The gas station that I usually buy my morning drink from had 12-packs of Mtn. Dew Game Fuel for $.99.  That’s outrageous!  So instead of purchasing a 44oz drink for $1.05, I instead bought 144oz in twelve aluminum cans for $1.05, a much better deal.  How totally awesome and radical is that?

Probably few of you have seen this commercial, but I happen to like it.  There’s a bit of controversy surrounding it, saying that it detracts from the sanctity and holiness of Christmas.  Personally, I have no problem with it, and I think the jingle is totally awesome and radical.  Beware, it can get stuck in your head.  And it’s only 34 seconds long.

Bah, I guess folks just need a reason to stir up trouble. 

I’m so totally digging Brandon Sanderson’s Warbreaker right now.  Like, I mean, if I could either spend a day body surfing with friendlies of the ocean and ruling them like Poseidon or read this book, I’d totally go with the popcorn, man.  Cause I love to eat popcorn and read, that is.

My enthusiasm for Oblivion has waned.  I’ve put in, like, somewhere around 55hrs now, but I’ve done next to nothing on the Main Quest.  Yet I’m still playing it, whenever I get the time.  And I still die or nearly die quite often, too, even though I’m a freaking totally awesome powerful level 22 Nord.  I did see that Final Fantasy XIII is scheduled for release next spring, and it looks flipping sweet, dudes.

That’s really about it.  Me and my home dawg Alex recorded a song that sounds hip.  It’s our take on the old gospel song “Heaven Came Down.”  If I wanted I could post that up here, but I’ll wait.  I think we’re going to try to video record ourselves at some point, plus A-dog is possibly getting a new acoustic-electric bass.

If you need a few blogs to read or sites to check out, I’ve got some for you.  They’ll mess you up, man.  Like snorting LCD-laced mushrooms mess-you-up.  The first one, TripCrosby.com, is not posted daily, but still relatively frequently.  If you like that odd, random humor, it’s fantastic.  I nearly died at work reading this post yesterday.  The other one, AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com, is an older site, but still totally gut-rolling laughter+fear inducing.  There are too many good pictures to choose from to link to, so I’ll pick this one as a taste of what you can expect.

So, uh, that’s like, it.  Peace out.  Love in.  Joy to that guy who took away your futon…

Writing Wednesdays: The Absurdly Epic Tragedy of Oscambria 1.6

If you've missed any of the previous Cantos to this absurd epic, click here to catch up. Once again, sorry about the length, but I hate splitting up the parts. This Canto is exactly 100 words less than last weeks. I've written a huge, completed outline for this story, so it looks like it'll be going on for quite a while. This is the first story in a long time that I've actually focused on and made a full-fledged outline. I hope you enjoy. Feedback/Criticism is appreciated.
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VII.
Presently cursed, Oscambria made his way from the cave,
Avoiding all manner of men he met on his way.
He was in the hill country near Athins still,
Which is mostly populated with sheep and their caretakers.
He knew he would be banned from returning to the city and avenging himself,
Banned from entering towns in general,
As his curse made it nearly unbearable for living ones to be around him.

“My exile must last until I rid myself of this curse,” he cried aloud,
if only to hear his voice.
“But I shall seek to find the wondrous woman Koesan,
she of my visions. She will help me reach the second pillar.”
And so he walked aimlessly,
Without thought of where he trod
Or where his feet took him.

Days passed without incident,
Through rain and heat and despair,
Across the hill country and through the flats.
Alone and hungry,
The Hero walked without destination,
A speck in the winds of the Sisters blowing breeze
To arrive where it would arrive.

As one particular day neared its end
And the sun was low in the sky,
Oscambria spied a commotion in a nearby valley.
A gang of thieves and thugs appeared to be harassing a traveling merchant,
And the loud and raucous laughter of drunk men echoed through the hills.
“They’re trying to steal from that poor wagoneer,” said the Hero.
“I must go to his aid.”

Like a wraith moving through mist and fog,
The Hero headed towards the ruckus.
He was unarmed, having only to himself the ruined clothes,
But he was unafraid.
“It is not in my destiny to die here at the hands of these vagrants,” thought he,
“and I will be protected by my fate.
What the Sisters have woven is woven.”

He was near enough to the gang that he could hear them speaking.
“What is that horrible smell?” one of them asked.
“It smells like someone ate an entire boar
and relieved themselves without wiping.”
“No,” said another merrily, “I think mayhap our victims here
have upset bellys from the unfortunate turn of events of this eve,
and their loss of profit is driving out gasses from their rumps.”

Oscambria leapt from the shadows,
Crashing loudly into a man with his back turned.
They toppled to the ground and the Hero brought a swift hand to the man’s head.
He rolled up to his feet in a second,
And in the commotion he stole the downed man’s halberd,
Bringing it up in an offensive position,
snarling viciously at the remaining four thieves.

“Look what we have here,” said the crook nearest Oscambria,
“a hero has come to your rescue, peddlers.”
In the darkness of the gloaming, Oscambria’s grey-skin was hidden,
His ruined garb unnoticed by those surrounding him.
But the stench was there, strong and full,
And Oscambria knew it would quickly drive the men to fear and madness,
Or at least he hoped it would.

One of the men stepped forward and Oscambria slashed without thinking;
The blade of the halberd connected with the man’s exposed arm,
hitting the hard bone of his foe and then proceeded to pass through.
The limb fell freely from the body,
Like an autumnal tree sheds its limbs after a cyclone.
Blood as dark red as those leaves spurted from the open wound
And the man screamed out in pain.

And then the full weight of the curse arrived,
Opening the crooks darkened eyes and setting revelation in their minds.
“The man is cursed!” shouted a stocky man.
The gang immediately abandoned their victims,
Running swiftly from the cart and the cursed one,
Leaving their unconscious comrade in the road.
Even the injured man had enough wits to flee, taking the severed arm with him as he did.

Moments later the Hero looked about the bloodied scene,
Noticing for the first time that there were five bodies on the dirty ground.
One belonged to the unconscious criminal,
And the other four presumably belonged with the wagon.
One was definitely dead,
As evidenced by the jagged cut across his throat
And the puncture wounds on his chest.

The other three were tied up to the wagon wheels,
A small child, an old man, and a woman with dark black hair.
They were all gagged and scared,
But did not appear to have any wounds.
Oscambria stared at them for a long moment,
Deciding how to approach the situation,
And finally knelt down before the old man.

“Sir,” said he gently, “I am going to untie you.
Know that I am cursed, and I will try not to touch your skin.”
The man’s eyes were clouded and white, Oscambria noticed,
And he was likely blind, but his nose probably worked.
Soon he had them all freed and on their feet,
And they stood awkwardly in the growing dark,
The pale moon peering between the shimmering Twin Planets.

For a long moment Oscambria waited,
Uncertain what to do or say.
He wondered if the people he rescued would scorn him,
If they would beg him to leave them be,
To take his curse and go.
He tried to think of something to say
But instead found himself staring at the dark haired girl.

She was young and full of womanhood,
With sharp eyes and very brown hair.
She wore a simple traveling tunic,
Brown and white,
Stained with dust from the roads,
But he found it complimented her pale skin.
“She looks familiar,” thought he.

“Who are you?” inquired the old man suddenly.
The Hero tore his vision from the beautiful girl
And faced the man.
“I am Oscambria of Athins,
the cursed and exiled son of Oscar and Reane,
actor of the Round Theatre and Masque of the Courte du Gods,
at your service, sir.”

“Oscambria?” blurted the girl. He quickly looked back to her
and could see the blush rising to her cheeks.
“I mean to say, the Oscambria? The acclaimed performer of ‘Gilgon the Great’
and recently starring in ‘Sing to Me, Cadem!’
You are that Oscambria?”
The Hero could not help but smile,
Bittersweet from his recent departure from the stage and the meeting of a fan.

“Yes, my lady, I am the very one.”
Sadness filled her eyes as she spoke again.
“How very unfortunate for your exile and curse.
We were on our way to Athins to deliver our merchandise
And then we were going to watch ‘Sing to Me.’
How very unfortunate, indeed.”
At a loss for words, Oscambria nodded.

“Mind yourself, girl,” said the old man.
“Of course it’s unfortunate, do you think he is unaware of that?
Bah! But tell me, Oscambria, how you came to be cursed,
As I can only assume it was the curse that led to your exile.”
So, standing in the roadside valley, the Hero delivered his tale,
Starting with the challenge to Zzizgarg
And ending with his visions in the cave.

The three stared at him open mouthed,
Like children salivating for a caramelized apple slice,
Astounded at his amazing tale. (An amazing tale, I do say.)
Again the old man spoke, “Well if that ain’t a dandy.
And you’re apparently pretty good with a blade, too, eh?
You chopped off that one man’s arm after all,
And you scared off all of ‘em but that one that’s still out.”

“Yes, I did do that, but I had the element of surprise.
Plus, it was my curse that scared them off, not my skill with a blade.
Which brings up a question. Why have you all not ran from me
And from this affliction I bear?
I know the smell must be difficult for you.”
The small boy’s face was a shade of green-yellow-blue,
And Oscambria assumed he was trying not to breathe very often.

“Indeed, you are a smelly lad, but not completely unbearable.
And you saved our shipment and our lives.
‘Twould be rude of us to run off like that,” spoke the old man wisely.
“And we know of your great destiny.
If you are to become a Hero, I’ll wager you won’t get there on your own,
And you could likely use some comp’ny,
And we’re willing to ‘comp with ya.”

“I don’t know what to say,” muttered the Hero,
“except thank you. You’re the first people I’ve met since I’ve greyed
that haven’t ran off screaming. What are your names?”
The old man spoke again, answering for the group.
“I’m Columbus, the girl’s Koesan, and the lad there’s Arca.
The dead man over there was Villay,
A dear friend and business partner in our endeavors.”

“Koesan…” thought the Hero. “Of course.”
“Are you hurt?” asked Koesan suddenly,
her melodic voice as wonderful as a Siren’s song.
She pointed at the juice-blood stain on his ragged outfit, and Oscambria shook his head.
“No, this is the very garb I was wearing in my final performance.
The curse struck before I had time to change,
And I was forced from Athins without a chance to return to my home.”

“Well, we should deliver our merchandise and then see what we can do.
Will you travel with us, Oscambria?
We could use a hero, another defender that is, as our last one met the Twins a bit early,
Taipeos rest his merry soul.
You can tarry outside of Athins while we barter in the city,
And we’ll pick you up as we leave.
What say you?”

Without hesitation, the Hero nodded.
“Aye, I will, though I’m not sure how much of a fighter I’ll be if we meet trouble.
How far are we from Athins?
What should we do with the sleeping one?”
Columbus answered him, wrinkling up his nose.
“We should kill him, of course.
He tried to steal from us, after all, and the Law is the Law.”

The matter was settled before Oscambria could protest.
The child, Arca, seized the halberd from the Hero
And plunged it deep into the downed ones skull,
Splitting asunder the bone as easily as butter splits ‘neath a blade.
Red blood flowed from the wound,
And when Arca pulled the blade from the dead man
There were bits of pink and bone stuck to it.

Oscambria was stunned at the boy’s animosity, at his hatred,
At his suddenness, yet he said nothing.
The boy handed the blade back to the Hero with no words.
“Very well, let’s go. There’s been enough bloodshed now.”
The Hero agreed with the old man,
Feeling slightly sick from the bloodshed
And the death.

Soon they were off, headed back down the windy roads and toward Athins,
The Hero riding in the back of the wagon, no longer alone.
He had not told the travelers that he’d seen Koesan in his vision,
Afraid that it would scare them away.
As the wagon wheels bumped and jostled him,
He faded asleep,
Dreaming of the beautiful, pale woman.
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Next week's segment is much shorter. I may post the map of Oscambria's world up with the Canto next week, too.

On Christmas Music

There’s something special about Christmas music.  Kind of.  Really I should say that there’s something special about Christmas music for a little while and then it quickly gets old.  Some people start playing it the day after Thanksgiving and keep it going on into February.  Others may turn on the radio on Christmas Eve as they’re cooking, but no more.  Others may only hear it at church when they go to see a Christmas play or cantata.  And still more will eschew Christmas music like it’s the bubonic plague.

Myself, I love Christmas music, but conditionally.  I like it with variety.  If it all sounds crisp, clean, and bubbly, I’m ready to tear my ears off and plug the holes with caulk within a few short minutes.  I like the traditional Dean Martin or Nat King Cole song as much as the next guy, but not only them.  Different arrangements of the music makes all the difference in the world.  Or playing quirky, odd Christmas songs.  Something to break the monotony of familiar Christmas tunes.

As a musician, one thing I really appreciate and like about Christmas music is its complexity.  Christmas songs typically make use of odd chords that aren’t played as often, diminished and augmented things.  And many of them rely on a heavy minor sound, which I find absolutely delightful.  There’s just something moodier when I hear a minor chord, something a bit more mysterious and powerful.

Right along with the actual music is the lyrics behind many Christmas songs.  Many of them deal with the birth of Jesus, of course, and that is well and good.  His birth should be remembered and honored, and by singing carols of Him we are worshipping Him in a way.  But then there’s the secular Christmas songs, like “I’ll be Home for Christmas,” “Blue Christmas,” or “The Christmas Song.”  These songs are often fun to sing along with and the wide array of meaning behind them, from sadness of memories gone by to the joys of riding a sleigh through snowy hills.  I enjoy a good mix of meaning with my songs.

A final thing that I really like about Christmas music is that it crosses every genre, but it also is a genre of its own.  You can listen to one artist sing a favorite Christmas song, adding to it their own personal touch.  Or perhaps they leave it alone, stripping it down to its simple form and sing over the easy chords.  Whatever the case may be, each artist will add their own unique flavor to any song, and the variety in this is perfect for curing the normal Christmas music blues.

I’ve written this post chiefly for one reason: Christmas music does not have to be painful to listen to.  No, truly there is hope for the music.  I found it, and now I’ll share it with you.  A plethora of answers to life are available from NPR, and they have the fix for this dilemma, too.  Jingle Jams: A Holiday Mix from NPR Music offers 100 favorite holiday songs, from Bach to the Ramones to Louis Armstrong to Johnny Cash, and they’re all available for free listening here.  The streaming is on a loop, so you don’t get to pick where you start, but you can listen to a great variety of Christmas music.  There are very familiar songs and there are songs I’ve never heard before.  Overall, I’ve enjoyed it, and you can too.  Thank you NPR.  You always come through.

Random Bits and Pieces

• Writing Wednesdays tomorrow.  Don’t miss it.
• Amazon’s Deal of the Day is Assassin’s Creed II for $40.  That’s outrageous!
• Some funny Christmas ads from yesteryear.  I liked the first one best.
• I still haven’t picked out Keisha’s gift.
• I’m compiling my data from all the books I’ve read for 2009 and will be posting it the last week of the year.

The Nativity Project: A Service Project Recap

Let me begin with an exclamation of WOW.  As many of you know, and as I mentioned last Friday, and a few times before then, our Sunday School class did a service project, which we called the Nativity Project, at a local homeless shelter over the weekend.  The project was phenomenal; that second sentence was not.

For many months we have been collecting lightly used clothes, toys, books, movies, purses, shoes, and other things.  We stockpiled our stuff into bags and boxes and then a week ago we went through and categorized it.  There were many, many items to sort through and organize, and it took the ~15 people about three hours to go through it all.  We managed to group like clothes together (mens, womens, teen girls, young boys, young girls, baby) and the toys were just put together as good as possible.  We stuffed everything in a trailer and waited for the project.

Keisha and I got to the shelter around 6:00am so we could help unload the trailer and be ready to start the project by 9:00am.  It was cold and breezy, but it didn’t get any of our spirits down.  In fact, I’d say we were rather warm and willing.  We all cleared out the trailer pretty quickly and then began unpacking all of the bags and toys.  We had to put the stuff around the walls on tables, as we were serving in the cafeteria of the shelter and could not put stuff on the eating tables.  Once everything was unpacked there seemed to be a lot of stuff, but I didn’t know how long it would last.  I didn’t know how many people to expect.

One of the goals for this project was not just to give stuff away to homeless people.  No, we were not exclusive, and in fact I’d say a decent percentage of the turnout was not homeless.  Anyone that was in need of anything could come and take.  We helped parents that were struggling to provide toys for their children by giving them toys.  We offered gift wrapping so the kids would be able to open a gift.  We had some folks ask for gloves, we didn’t have any, but we drove down to the store and bought some and returned and gave them away.  Truly our class was there to serve.

I sat down with a man named Jerry before the project started.  Jerry was an older man with long, bushy sideburns and a quick tongue.  He was wearing a thin jacket.  I found out that Jerry rode the bus to the shelter to get breakfast and lunch and then he would be leaving.  I asked if there was anything I could help him look for, but he said he did not want to face the “madhouse” and that he’d just keep his coat.  He said we probably didn’t have a jacket to fit him anyway.  I told Jerry that I was about as big and tall as he was and that I’d look to find him a warm jacket when the project started.  He said okay, but as time grew closer he decided he didn’t want me to do it.  I told him it was no problem and at 9:00 I went over to the coats, found a very nice and warm American Eagle pea coat, and returned and gave it to him.  I got a simple “thank you” and I knew he was pleased.  I asked if there was anything else I could look for for him, but he said no, that he had plenty of clothes.  We talked a bit more, and a few other folks sat around us and we all talked a bit.  Eventually I found out that Jerry liked NASCAR and word searches and I left the table to go help other people.

We spent most of our time helping people look for certain sizes or items, talking with the searchers and getting to know them a bit.  At one point I spotted an XL NASCAR shirt, walked over to Jerry and told him I thought he’d like it and he took it willingly.  I went back and helped the people I was helping.  We had a steady flow of people from 9:00 until around noon and then we condensed what was left and left it all at the shelter.  Hopefully others will take advantage of what’s left, which wasn’t a lot but still quite a bit, and get some stuff for themselves.

In the end I believe our class was blown away by the project.  I know I was.  Seeing the joy on the kids faces, watching their eyes light up seeing tables and tables of toys, was a blessing.  Helping a mother look for work clothes—and actually finding them—was a source of joy for both of us.  Truly God provided for everyone seeking.  It was like the fish and the loaves of bread Jesus used to feed a multitude of people.  We wound up serving around 200-300 people (maybe more, I can’t remember), but many of these folks got stuff for their family members, too, bringing our output to around 700-800.  And everyone (to my knowledge) left satisfied and happy.

Our pastor asked the congregation a few months ago that if Macedonia Baptist Church ceased to exist would we be missed in the community?  Would people even know we were gone?  He then challenged us to make a difference in our community, to not be complacent with doing little to nothing for God but to get out there and serve Him by serving and helping others.  I think the Nativity Project served our community.  God blessed me by knowing I was helping others.  God blessed others by getting them things they desired.  As always, God blesses and provides, and I pray that He blesses you, too, this Christmas season.

(A quick and unrelated note on Brandon Sanderson.  I found this auction on eBay and thought I’d share it.  It’s a Advance Proof 1st Print copy of Mistborn: The Final Empire.  The going price is pretty low right now, but I can’t bid any more with Christmas fast approaching.  However, you should act quickly, as the auction ends at 09:30:21am PST today.  Good luck if you bid.)

A Day in the Life + Answers to Questions

7:02am—Hit snooze one time.  (I don’t believe in setting my alarm on values divisible by five.)  Roll over.  Get attacked by warm, puppy kisses.

7:11am—Get up out of bed, throw water on face, brush teeth, get dressed.

7:25am—Take Stella out, flip coffee pot on, and sometimes read from my Bible or a devotion, and sometimes make oatmeal or cereal.  (I don’t often eat breakfast.)

7:45am—Leave for work.

8:00am—Arrive at the MLC, start up computer, wait, check email, Google Reader updates, CNN headlines, and any other personal business.

9:45am—Coffee break to the Table of Knowledge, work on USA Today crossword puzzle.

10:00am-10:15am—Return to desk and continue working on project(s).

Noon—Lunch time, drive home, cook Ramen noodles or sandwich or leftovers, take Stella out, talk to Keisha if she’s home or read if she’s not, drive back to work.

1:00pm—Arrive at the MLC, check Fark, continue on project(s).

2:45pm—Coffee break to the Table of Knowledge, finish USA Today crossword; if already finished, work on LA Times crossword, other USA Today puzzles, or read through newspaper.

3:00pm-3:15pm—Return to desk and continue working on project(s).

5:00pm—Leave work, drive home, take Stella out; if Keisha’s home, we talk or watch TV or something; if not home, I play an instrument, play with Stella, play Xbox, read, or watch television.

10:00pm—Take Stella out; head upstairs for bed, floss, brush teeth, mouth wash; drop temperature down to a comfortable cool, flip on fan and flowing-water-noise-making-thing, put on chap stick, lay down, get assaulted by Stella’s fierce love, and read.

11:00pm—Lights out, book down, try to sleep.

7:02am—Repeat.

That’s it.  Usually repetitive.  Depending on the day, the evening is substituted with a favorite television show, music practice with Alex, or heading out to shop or something with Keisha.  Thankfully, Keisha’s semester’s finally over, so we’ll get to spend more time together now.  Weekend’s are too unpredictable to pattern.  Now for some answers to some of life’s common questions.  And by common, I mean I’ve only been asked these questions once or never.  I’ll keep the askers anonymous.  You know who you are and aren’t.

How did the homeless thing go?  We had a good time last night, seeking out and trying to help people.  Unfortunately, we did not see a single person that was in need.  In fact, we met only one person, who was running with earbuds in, and he barely acknowledged our greeting.  I’m guessing because it was very cold (wind chill around 12 deg. or something I think) everybody was trying to stay warm.  We walked for around two hours, talking about various things, mostly talking about Jesus, and got in some good exercise.  We’ve not given up, though.  We’ve still got backpacks to give out and we fully intend to give them out.  We’re going to try various times and days, and eventually the Lord will provide.  We came away with more ideas of how we can impact our community, our fellowship grew closer together (I’ve only known Alex for five or six months and already consider him one of my truest and best friends), and we decided that if God provided everything on the first try then there would be no faith involved and everyone would have it easy.  We’ll be hitting the streets again.

What is the Star Wars thing?  Can you link to a site about it?  Are you going to dress up as something from the films?  Star Wars Celebration is an official Star Wars convention, kind of like ComiCon or DragonCon, but strictly Star Wars.  The official Star Wars Celebration V website is available here.  You can also read a bit more overall info, including info from past Celebrations, here or here.  Like any conference, loyal fans dress up as something, and Celebration is no different.  The costumes are amazing and well thought out.  Of course, if I were to go then I would likely dress up.  I have no shame.  I love the franchise.

What do you think about the cliché “better the left sock go missing than the right foot fall off”?  Uh, well, I think that there should be a better cliché.  What does that even mean?  Count your blessings? 

What are you doing tomorrow?  Criss-cross apple sauce, man!  I, along with my Sunday School class, am spending the day at a local homeless shelter, giving away tons of clothing, toys, and food.  If we run out, I think we’re going to get a list and write down what people would like to have, then possibly go buy some stuff and return.  I don’t know.  I’m sure I’ll probably eat at some point, too, and I’ll probably do a bit of other stuff.  I’ve done said that the weekends are too unpredictable.

Why do my feet stink?  It’s not just your feet, friend.

Will I ever find true love and happiness?  Yes.  No.  Maybe?  I don’t know.  Can you repeat the question?

Consider the Greco-Roman civilization, the medieval Anglo-Saxon civilization, the imperial Japanese civilization, and the modern day American civilization.  In a detailed list, citing primary and secondary sources, compare the electric motor scooter’s impact on each society.  Wait, what?  That’s not even a question.  That’s a command.  This ain’t a command session.

Did you see that picture of that 35-year-old parrot that doesn’t have any feathers?  Why yes, yes I did.  I saw it right here in fact.  It’s rather freaky, wouldn’t you say?

What was your favorite subject in high school?  Interesting.  I really have always been a math nerd since I was a wee lad, so probably AP Calculus.  Of course, I’ve always tried to dabble in art, and I took art classes all the way up to AP Art, too, which was a very fun class, but probably not my favorite for the whole “learning” thing.

Do you have more trouble with apostrophes or commas?  That is too hard to answer.  I want to throw commas around like they’ll solve all my problems, yet I’m sure I break the laws of grammar quite a bit.  As for apostrophes, they throw me for a loop from time to time, but probably not as much as commas.

That’s it for today folks, friends, fiends, and foes.  Remember, you can submit your very own questions in a comment, via email, in person, via Google Wave (if you want an invite I’ve got plenty to give out), or to my personal assistant, Renaldo Gustav Bolivia Montang.  Until next time, try not to write something as forced as this felt and try to watch a little Arrested Development.

The End.

Looking for the Homeless

My friend, Alex, came up with this really cool and practical idea a few weeks ago.  After one of the Sunday School lessons he got it in his heart to try and locate the homeless of Owensboro and provide for them.  He bought some backpacks, warm blankets, thermal underwear (long Johns, we call them in Kentucky), bottled water, and a Bible.  I bought some foodstuff.  We filled the backpacks and tonight we are going out on our first quest.

We’ve been trying to go out for the past two weeks, but I was sick and didn’t feel up to it last week, and Tuesday it poured down cold.  Tonight it’s going to be frigid (somewhere around 20 degrees) and windy, but we’re aiming to go.  I think the plan is we’re going to bundle up and go park downtown.  Then we’re going to walk the streets, each with a backpack, and keep an eye open for homeless folk.  If we see someone that needs a jacket, they can have ours.

Hopefully we find people in need and hopefully we can meet that need.  I know we’ve both been praying for this.  I’m not sure how many homeless people there are in Owensboro, nor where they would be, but we’ll look.  The city is fairly large, but shelter’s seem to handle most of the homeless here.  Regardless, we’ll keep our eyes and hearts open.

On a different note, tickets for STAR WARS Celebration V went on sale today.  I really really really want to go, but I have no one to go with.  Keisha’s going to have just started a job (hopefully) and Alex can’t go.  I’m thinking I may put a shout out on Facebook and see if anyone would like to go.  Really the trip wouldn’t be bad at all.  All four days of the convention for $120, and air fare is really cheap right now.  Celebration’s not until August 2010, so I’ve got time.

This is a small snapshot of what I’ve been working on for, well, practically since I started my job back in May.  The orange lines are the current thing I’m doing.  Drawing drainage areas for erosion calculations.  It’s a bit tricky and will vary from person to person on how it’s done.  The entire project is quite large.  It’s a slow process, but someone has to do it. 

That’s really about it for today.  Keisha’s finally finished with commuting for the semester, so she’ll actually be home during the week now!  Christmastime’s coming up quickly, and we’ve still got a bit to do.

I’m toying with the idea of not posting every weekday beginning with the new year.  At least once or twice per week, but probably not every weekday.  And if Dave drops off the blogosphere and you read both of our blogs, then it’ll be like a double whammy.  (Big bucks, big bucks, no wammy!)  I’m not completely sure yet, but just maybe.

Wish us luck tonight with our journey.  And pray for us, too, if you’d like.  And just in case you’re interested, the Amazon deal of the day is the complete series of Seinfeld, all 32 DVDs, nine seasons, for $84.99.  That’s a heck of a deal.  Plus it comes with a nice 226 page coffee table book anthology, highlighting every episode.  I’m not linking it, but it’s there folks.

Writing Wednesdays: The Absurdly Epic Tragedy of Oscambria 1.5

This is a rather lengthy post. It will require some substantial scrolling down on your part. Unfortunately, I don't want to split the Canto into two pieces, so this is what you get. This is one of my favorite pieces of the epic that I've written so far. Important things happen. I hope you enjoy. If you've missed any previous parts of the journey, click here to read them.
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VI.
“Awake, Oscambria, for I have things to show thee,” said Viis somberly.
The Hero opened his eyes to the God of Dream and Vision,
Standing tall and proud over him like gods do.
Readers, I do not have to tell you what Viis looks like,
as you’ve all seen it when you close your eyes at night,
Its translucent, shape-shifting form
And its piercing silver eyes.

The Hero rose, naked as he was when he lay down,
And covered himself with a random pile of animal furs from the dream.
“I know you, but I don’t. Who are you?” he asked, his voice as strong as his heart.
“I am Viis, the God of Dream and Vision,
and I am here to guide you on your destiny-walk,
to clear the fog in your mind
and set your feet upon the right path.

“Walk with me, child, and I will show you the four pillars of your destiny.”
They set out upon a long and treacherous road,
Lined with wonderful and hideous apparitions on the sides.
In the ditches flowed blood and water,
Thick and dark,
And an orb of burning flame hung in the purple sky,
Casting long shadows onto the two.

“These visions are the people and things you will see in your life;
they are what the Sisters have woven for you.”
They stopped beside an immense grey pillar,
Tall and mighty, its spike reaching up into the heavens and out of sight.
It appeared to be made of one smooth stone,
With no cracks or joints along its polished surface,
And Oscambria extended his hand and touched it.

“This pillar is your curse, child,
and touching it will enlighten you of your affliction.”
Immediately a scene opened before the Hero’s eyes,
of the challenge between him and Zzizgarg.
He watched as the immortal rushed out of the Courte du Gods
And through the streets of Athins,
And he could see the anger burning in Zzizgarg’s eyes.

He watched as the child of Fire and Ice drew a blade and cut his open hand,
Letting the blood pour down onto the Fire-altar and pray a Blood-oath.
Deception hung about Zzizgarg as he prayed,
And suddenly a god appeared from the fire.
The Hero heard and witnessed the events unfold,
Helpless to interfere,
And felt his heart falter when Zzizgarg deceived his father.

The vision suddenly faded and the pillar returned.
“Zzizgarg,” hissed Oscambria,
“I should have guessed that he would be behind this.
I’ve always tried to befriend the wretch,
But his pride kindles the flame in my blood
And I can’t help but knock him from his pedestal,
Though I see now the foolishness of my behavior.”

Viis neither admonished nor consoled him, but simply nodded,
Speaking, “I am not here to tell you how you should act,
Only to show you what is in store for you.
This is the first pillar of your life, and the foundation for how you will live.
This pillar, the curse you bear, will shape all of your actions,
And they will stretch into the other worlds
And affect more than you can currently comprehend.”

“But if you can do nothing but show me, why must I see my fate?
Is it not cruel to show me my life’s path and condemn me to obeying it?
Can I not change what I see, or is it etched in one of these pillars?”
“Come with me, Oscambria, and witness your second pillar,”
commanded Viis, its voice the strong mixture of male and female,
reaching out a hand for the Hero to take.
They continued down the path.

The second pillar came into view,
Again reaching up into the heavens and continuing beyond vision,
Though it was still far off in the distance.
Oscambria stopped, his attention caught by a bystander on the roadside,
A young maid garbed in a simple merchant tunic,
Her hair black as ebony
And her skin as bronze as a dinera.

“Who is she?” inquired the Hero, entranced at her beauty.
“These ghosts are the people you will meet along your way.
Her name is Koesan.
More than that, I cannot say.”
“She is beautiful,” replied the Hero.
Viis stared blankly at Oscambria, who was staring openly at Koesan,
who was staring at the sack of flour in her hands.

They came to the next pillar, this one seamless as the first,
Though its color was dark grey and speckled with red.
Again Oscambria reached out and touched the stone.
He beheld two massive armies,
One of men and gods, the other of gods and immortals.
They were on an unmarked field,
Ripe with wheat and tares.

Suddenly the battle erupted, violent and full of force.
Corpses fell, both of gods and men,
And the battle raged on for many days.
The end came with the dimming of the Flame,
The god Rone falling to the sword of an armored warrior,
Masked in a wicked black metal helm,
and the god’s head was cut from his body.

The warrior removed his mask and Oscambria gasped,
Seeing his own face revealed.
The curse was still on him, but it appeared to be fading,
His skin returning to its normal color,
As Rone’s power left with his life.
The warrior Oscambria sheathed his sword
And walked among the countless corpses.

The vision vanished, leaving Oscambria panting slightly.
He had no words, no remarks, only shock.
“Come, child, and see the third pillar.”
They walked in troubled silence,
Oscambria understandably distraught
From the vision he’d seen,
And he attempted to cast off the horrible image of the fallen god.

The next pillar reached up into the heavens,
But its exterior was marred with cracks.
It burned a bright orange-red, as if it was on fire,
And Oscambria stalled before it.
“I do not wish to know, magnificent Viis.”
The God of Dream and Vision nodded, then spoke in its strange voice,
“Yet you must, child. It is willed for you to do so.”

Hesitantly, the Hero touched the cracked stone,
And once again the visions opened before him.
Zzizgarg sat on a throne in Athins,
A scepter in one hand and a chalice in the other.
The throne room burned with torches.
At the immortal’s feet lay a dead king,
His body burnt black.

A dark crown sat atop Zzizgarg’s head,
And an evil grin was on his face,
Beneath his burning, red eyes.
“My name is Cornball the Fierce, the Flickering Flame,” said Zzizgarg,
“and I am your new king. You will all bow to me and worship me,
as you did my father, the fallen Fire, Rone.
I claim his mantle and hereby witness my Ascension.”

The immortal reared back his head and screamed violently,
A roar as loud as the wounded dying,
And flames burst forth from his open mouth.
Lines of fire shot from his eyes and outstretched hands,
And all around him objects burned,
From the glorious, exotic tapestries
To the royal Bunny Rabbit in the Gilded Cage.

When the intensity flared bright, the vision faded,
And Oscambria staggered back from the pillar, expecting to find himself ablaze.
His hand was hot from the stone.
“The last pillar awaits, Hero.”
“Hero? I am no hero.”
“Not now,” replied Viis smoothly, “but you will be,
for you are destined to be the Champion of the Three Worlds.

“All will know of your deeds in the days to come.
Minstrels will sing of your exploits,
Ministers will preach of your deeds,
Women will tremble at a mere drawing of your visage,
And men will seek to emulate you.
Children will play like they are you,
Re-enacting your glorious works.

“Yes, Oscambria, this curse was just the beginning of your journey.
By the end, you will be heralded as the Hero of the Living Worlds.”
Viis stared into Oscambria’s eyes,
Its silver pupils seeing all the way into his soul,
And the Hero knew it was true.
“But how can these things I see make me a hero?”
asked Oscambria sincerely.

“Come with me to the last pillar, child.”
The God of Dream and Vision did not answer him, you notice,
For gods so rarely decide to give straight answers to asking ones.
Instead, he was led to the final pillar,
Far away from the third, down the winding path,
Through a dark forest and below a lake,
Climbing a mountain and finally to the pillar itself.

The last pillar was not like the first three.
It was broken and ruined.
Massive black stones lay at its thick base.
All around the landscape was dead and barren,
As if they were near the Planet of the Dead.
“Touch it, Oscambria, and learn of your destiny.
Learn what your purpose is in this world.”

Inexplicably drawn to the ruined pillar,
The Hero slowly reached forth his hand
And lay his open palm on the shattered stone.
Before him appeared a world unlike anything he could imagine,
Yet similar in many ways.
The sky was blue, but the two familiar planets in the sky were removed,
Completely vanished and replaced by a massive orange star.

The magnificent temples of Athins were laid to waste,
And in their place were quick-food joints,
Filling the air with the sickly sweet smell of burgermeat.
The old altars to the gods were gone
And in their place was one altar.
Carved into the stone was an inscription:
TO THE GODS, EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU.

Children walked the rotunda, happy and bright,
Each with a book in their hands.
The men and women worked side by side,
Together for the better of all,
And their only concerns were for society to prosper,
For everyone to have what they wanted,
And for the Cubs to win the pennant.

There was a sense of liberty throughout the lands,
Of a care-free lifestyle where everyone let everything be okay,
Where dogs and cats were friends
And roaches no longer lived.
It was Utopia, Oscambria, realized,
Ushered in somehow by his actions
And by the choices he would make.

Finally he saw a mighty spire, shooting from the ground and high into the sky,
Towering above all surrounding buildings,
And on its top stood a statue of Oscambria,
Flowing hair and chiseled chest,
A handsome goatee on his face,
A Muse mask in one hand
And a murderous blade in the other.

The setting sun cast a beautiful picture in his mind
And suddenly the vision disappeared.
Viis was standing quietly behind him,
A hint of a smile on its face.
“This is the end of your visions, Hero, and your dream.
You have seen the four pillars of your life
And the road the Sisters have made for you.”

“I’m not sure I understand everything I’ve witnessed,”
he exclaimed, “but I thank you for showing me.”
This time Viis did smile,
And rows of sharp, silvery teeth flashed in the pale light.
“It has been a pleasure, child, even if your path
will lead to the destruction of many of my kind.
What the Sisters have woven is woven.”

With this the sleep ended, and Oscambria woke up.
The cave was still dark, but the rain had ended.
He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping,
But his clothes were dry, albeit still stained.
He put on his garb and thought of his visions,
Of what his life had in store for him,
And for the first time since his curse, he smiled.

Achuta Ootman. Kee chai chai cun kuta? Tah-koh tee womp rat e’nachu.

A lot of things to cover today.  Where to start?  Hmm.  STAR WARS it is then.

I haven’t reviewed them, because I’m not sure how I could without many spoilers, but I’ve just finished Volumes 1-5 of the STAR WARS Legacy comics.  This covers issues 1-26.  The Legacy series is rather cool and different in the Expanded Universe.  It’s set 137 years After the Battle of Yavin (ABY), the battle that takes place in Episode 4, where the Death Star goes boom.  The lone survivor of the Skywalker legacy, Cade has turned his back on the Force and lives his own life as a successful bounty hunter.  The Sith have ransacked the galaxy, slaughtering all Jedi and assassinating the Emperor.  Darth Krayt, the leader of the One Sith movement, takes the throne and sets out to unite the galaxy under his leadership.  From there, you can imagine the newfound joys the galaxy experiences.  Puppies for everyone, the poor are fed, and life is great and grand.

I’ve been rather impressed with this series.  There are a few times that I’ve rolled my eyes, but for the most part it’s been a fun and different kind of STAR WARS adventure.  The new breed of Sith are awesome looking, and the story is compelling.  Plus it’s all canonical, so I’m really interested in seeing how the events taking place in the current STAR WARS EU novels (the Fate of the Jedi series), which takes place around 43 years ABY, pan out and lead up to events referred to in the comics.  I want to know what happens to the heroes of the Alliance, how they die, and how the Sith come to be.  (Some of these things have been hinted at in the novels, and the comics are tying them in together nicely.)

Next up, music.

You can get the John Denver & The Muppets A Christmas Together cd at Amazon for $5 this month.  I recommend it if you’re looking for Christmas music, John Denver music, and Muppet music.  Great Christmas tunes and a fun cd, too.  It’s available here.  There’s actually quite a few good $5 albums available this month.  I highly recommend the My Morning Jacket Evil Urges cd, which happened to rank #21 on my iPod quest thing.  Highly recommend it.  You won’t find the album cheaper than the $5 unless you’re a pirate.  Then there’s the Beach Boys Pet Sounds 40th Anniversary album, Duran Duran, Celtic Woman, the Elf Soundtrack, A Charlie Brown Christmas, The Band’s Music from Big Pink, the new Switchfoot album, and a whole lot of other great tunes for $5.  Oh, what the heck.  Here’s the link to the 100 $5 albums for December.  There’ll be more in January.  Oh, and I recently downloaded the free sampler I Love the 80’s: The 1880s from Amazon (available here), which contains more than 5 hours of classical music from the time period.  It’s a rather nice collection, too, if you like quiet classical music.

Next?  Why let’s talk about the pain of stubbing a toe.

I spent a few hours cleaning up the house yesterday, washing clothes, dishes, and other things.  I was watching the Syfy original Alice while doing so, so it wasn’t all that bad.  However, at one point I managed to stub my Ring Toe (is that what it’s called?) on one of the legs of the couch, causing me to grunt in pain and agony, hop around for a few seconds on the other foot and then plop down on the same couch that caused my current duress.  Then I looked down at my toe and realized how bad I hit it.  It was purple and red and stuck to the side of the Middle Toe by blood.  Lots of blood.  And there was a big gash and some nail damage.  All in all a pretty bad stub.  So today I’m walking with care, trying to keep pressure off the toe.  I’m also trying to not wiggle my toes, which is remarkably difficult for me, as I constantly do so within my socks within my shoes all the time.  Oh well.  It could’ve been worse, eh?  I mean, I almost cut off my fingers on the food processor the other day making an Oreo cheesecake.  I forgot it was plugged in and was screwing on the blades with one hand and holding the machine still with the other.  I accidentally pressed down the pulse button and I screamed like a girl, pulled my hands up, watched Oreos fly out of the thing, watched Stella snag an Oreo, and looked at my hands.  Fingers were intact and untouched, thankfully, but it was a close one.

Speaking of Oreos…

I read an eye-opening article on some processed foods yesterday.  It’s available here.  Apparently the Stuf in an Oreo is “basically sugar-flavored Crisco.”  That’s pretty disgusting.  All of those things were pretty gross, actually.  I’m sure I’ll still eat some of the stuff on there, but I’ll likely think twice about it before I do.

Huttese?  Eniki.  If you really want to learn it, which I kind of do, then you can find more of it here.  You can also decipher the blog title, if you feel inclined.  I’ve always wanted to be fluent in a bunch of languages.  Maybe one day.

That’s about it, really.  Still getting over sinus crap.  We had our first accumulated snow yesterday.  Music practice tonight with Alex, prepping for the homeless shelter worship service this weekend.  Writing Wednesday tomorrow.  Mee jewz ku.

Harry Potter: The End of a Favorite Story

Verily, I just watched The Deathly Hallows sneak peak.  It brought up all those warm, wonderful fuzzy feelings that only Harry Potter can do.  I grew up with Harry, fell in love with his story, and reveled in every novel.  The magic was too captivating to not enjoy.  The story was too charming, too alluring, too mesmerizing.  I went to the midnight release party of Deathly Hallows.  Heck, we wound up buying two books, one for me and one for Keisha, just so we wouldn’t have to wait while the other one read.  I finished the last book either the day I got it or the next day.  I literally could not stop reading.

The truth is, the Harry Potter stories are some of the best stories I’ve ever read.  I often omit them from my “favorites” category, but I’m not sure why.  Human error, perhaps?  Rowling’s humor was fantastic, her mystery intriguing, and her characters absolutely loveable.  The books had everything you could ask for in a story: a villain you couldn’t help but hate and pity, a hero with a terrible burden of destiny, friends thicker and closer than brothers, and a world filled with magic.  Just thinking about them puts me in a nostalgic mood of the magic of the story and makes me want to reread them immediately.

I wonder if Rowling will be able to stay away from the Harry Potter world.  Will she write other novels with the familiar and beloved characters, or is she truly done?  When things end, especially things that have held me captivated from the get-go, things like Lost and Harry Potter, I feel mixed emotions.  I want the story to end, to have a resolution.  The dénouement is, after all, a very important part of the overall story, and without a conclusion then the story is pointless.  While the story ends, the bittersweet reality of “no more” sets in, which sometimes leads to despair, and other times to a “hallelujahamenandthankyouJesus.”

It’s just too complex.  Using the anthropomorphic metaphor of a story being likened to a human life, in the end it must ultimately die.  It’s a pitiful story when the end putters out and ends with a whimper.  When a writer grabs a deus ex machina and throws words out, the story suffers.  Or when a story goes on long enough that it grows stagnant, it ruins the beauty that once existed.  Harry Potter did not do this, and the ending was perfect, albeit tragic.

Overall, I really love the Harry Potter books.  I can see me and Keisha reading them to our kids, or bequeathing them to them to read.  The story will never get old, methinks.  I’m excited to watch the final installments of the Harry Potter films over the next two years, and I look forward to cherishing the story for years to come.

In an unrelated not, if you haven’t read the interview between Pat Rothfuss and Joe Abercrombie (available here), you really need to do it now.  I died laughing a few times.  In fact, using the Many Worlds Theory, I’m still dying and laughing, if you buy that stuff.  Of course, also using the Many Worlds Theory I never even read the interview…  Anyway, the general conversation was interesting, seeing how these two dudes think.

Weekend Special #5

Back in July I started a Weekend Special post series. The purpose was to generate book discussion, or to share your thoughts/musings on whatever you're currently reading, writing, or working on. Of course, this also allowed you to see what other people were reading/writing/working on, thus giving you a chance to comment, too, if you so chose. So, in remembrance of that old time, I give you another Weekend Special.

Feel free to add your own current thoughts. And remember, if you're posting a spoiler, please mark it appropriately.

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I'm currently reading Brandon Sanderson's Warbreaker. I've had this book setting on my shelf for a very long time, just waiting patiently to get to it. I'm on page 171. These are my current thoughts. (Beware, if you've not read the book, you may wish to not read my thoughts, as they could possibly contain spoilers.)

Vahr: I know very, very little of him still. The prologue was very exciting, and Nightblood has me intrigued. The last thing I read of him was that he was spying on Vivenna at the Court of Gods. I suspect the sword is somehow related to the Colors and the religions, possibly as an anathema or a talisman.

Siri: I feel a bit sorry for her, but I think she's headstrong and smart. I suspect she'll get involved with Lightsong somehow, or that the servants will involve her in their plots.

Vivenna: She definitely loves her country and her sister, though her formality and training puts her at a disadvantage to Siri. She'll likely cause problems in T'Telir.

Lightsong: His flippant and carefree ways are slightly aggravating, yet I can tell he has a heart. Perhaps he will eventually sacrifice himself to heal someone (maybe even Siri or Vivenna?), as it's evident he has problems with his deification. I hope he eventually gets serious, or I fear I may tire of his character.

Susebron, the God King: I am most intrigued by this mysterious figure. He's present on nearly every page, yet Sanderson has barely described him at all. I want to learn more about him. Is he more than what everyone says he is? Is he a Lifeless? Does he care about Siri? I am eager to find out more about him.

So far, I really like the way religion is a playing factor in the world. Of course, I expected this beautiful, logical system from Sanderson. I particularly like how well, how colorful, Sanderson's writing is, and his descriptions of colors are fresh and simple. I like the concept of Breath, and I look forward to discovering more benefits of the Heightening stages.

So, truly, I've not said much. I've voiced a few of my suspicions and a few of my impressions, but I've said nothing of substance. All in all, I'm looking forward to reading more of this book and seeing if Sanderson can keep up his awesome reputation. (I'm sure he won't disappoint.)

Hello Mr. Benadryl, I'm Back to Save the Universe

Ice age coming! Throw me in the fire. My mom informed me that benadryl would help me stop draining and help my sinus problem. Boy was she right on that one. Yesterday and the day before I took some benadryl, along with my normal Tylenol Severe Sinus stuff, and I've been much better. Apparently benadryl has a few side effects, though. Like drowsiness. And dry mouth. And for the last three hours I've been doing everything I can to stay awake, but I'm just too uncomfortable to sleep. My mind's been running off on tangents, chasing lyrics down the rabbit hole, through the Interweb and beyond. I've slipped off into Random a few times. I don't know why I feel so tongue-tied. I've stared blankly at the dual-monitors wondering what I'm doing on this project and wondering where to draw my boundary lines for the drainage areas. Either way you turn, I'll be there, open up your skull, I'll be there climbing up the walls. And the dry mouth is horrible. It's like being forever thirsty, yet unable to be quenched. I drink and drink and nothing seems to work. My nose is clear and I can breathe (Amen and ThankyouJesus), but my mouth and throat is parched. I've got myxomatosis. I think part of the problem lies in the fact that I typically try to abstain from drugs and pills and stuff. When I get headaches I try to suffer them out, unless they're super painful and then I'll take some ibuprofen. Yesterday I woke up soaking wet. So when I do take pills, they typically work. I've always held the belief that you don't have to take a pill every time something aches, that if you don't then the pills you do take will work better when you need them to. I guess this may be true. I don't know. I'm not a pharmacist. I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. So tomorrow is the Sunday School's Christmas party. It's also a day that our class is going to organize and clean our stuff that we're giving away for the Nativity Project. The Nativity Project is a community wide project our class is sponsoring for anybody in need of Christmas items (clothes, toys, etc.) Basically we've collected a ton of stuff and we're giving it all away for free next week, hosting it at the homeless shelter we've been serving at for these past few months. Little baby's eyes eyes eyes. Little baby's eyes. I'm super excited to see where that goes. I'm also super excited about STAR WARS Celebration V, next year, in Orlando. I'm thinking I may tell/ask/beg Keisha that we're/if we can going/go. (Does that sentence make sense to anyone other than me?) Have you heard about BookSwim? It's like Netflix, but for books. Why would you want to pay money to rent a book when you can go to the public library? I'm a huge supporter of public libraries. I'm a gigantic supporter of used bookstores. I love buying used copies, be it from an online seller or a real-life store. I'm a mild supporter of new books, unless I really really really want it (like, say, Pat Rothfuss or GRRM or something). I get confused looking at contour lines occasionally. I can visualize where and how the water will flow, but not always, especially when it's a relatively flat area. All hail to the thief! All hail to the thief! Don't you love that feeling of freedom you get from stretching? Leaning back in your chair, pushing your arms out above your head until the stretch ends in crescendo and euphoria? Dave, did you beat Borderlands? Was it fun? Just curious. Be a world child, form a circle before we all go under and fade out again. If I was stranded on a deserted island and I could have any three discographies to listen to, it would be Radiohead, Joe Purdy, and Bob Dylan. Probably. See, the whole point of the matter is that I've fragmented today. Accidentally forgetting to take my medicine this morning and then taking it at lunch was a mistake. I may be paranoid, but no android. While it fixed the nose-clogging problem, it rendered me mostly nonproductive these past few hours. Sure, I've done some work, but not as much as I could have. Perhaps its the Christmastime spirit in the air here at the office. We've got lights strewn about and trees up (boy oh boy what a weird tree) today. I love the word Christmastime. It's a legit word to use. Is it bad that I want to play Oblivion? I also really want to snuggle up next to Keisha and Stella and watch The Great Muppet Caper tonight, cause, well, honestly I've been addicted to the Muppets since I saw that "Bohemian Rhapsody" thing I posted last week. I loved Muppet Babies growing up. And the Flinstones, Scooby-Doo, Looney Tunes, Animaniacs, Tiny Toons, Dexter's Lab, Angry Beavers, and several other cartoons. I've always loved Weird Al, too. I saw him in concert once. It was fantastic. Yeah. I loved him and his music even before he did "The Saga Begins," which was possibly one of the best parodies ever and an amazing tribute to STAR WARS. The video's pretty good, and the song's great, so if you've never heard it (or it's been a while) then you should follow the link. I'm not as tired as I was when I began this journey. I'm still really thirsty. Sorry about the mess. Goodbye Mr. Benadryl. Fade out again.

God Gave Us Christmas, God Gave Us Love, and Treasured

God Gave Us Christmas, written by List T. Bergren and illustrated by David Hohn, is a children’s book describing the importance of Christmas and what it truly means. The story is simple and easy to understand and I think children would understand the meaning very easily. The major plot involves a young polar bear asking her mother questions about Santa Claus, who in turn decides to take her daughter on a trip to understand the importance of Christmas, and in turn, God.

I found this book good to listen to, as my wife read it aloud to me and our puppy. Childrens books are meant to be real aloud, after all. After leafing through the book myself, I find the drawings pretty and aesthetically pleasing. The only real problem was that I found some of the font color choices a bit hard to read at times (the black font on the deep blue/green sky was tough to make out, I thought), but this is easily overlooked. Overall, this is a great children’s book to add to any Christmas collection.

God Gave Us Love is another book by Lisa T. Bergren, though this one is illustrated by Laura J. Bryant. The plot again is simple and easy to understand, perfect for a children’s book. Basically, Little Cub gets a bit perturbed at some pesky otters and her grandpa has to remind her about love. They go on a similar journey (to God Gave Us Christmas) where Little Cub learns about God’s love and how she should act towards others.

I found the illustrations from God Gave Us Love pleasing and pretty, and I found the story delightful. I think these kids books offer a great lesson to inquiring minds, and I’m sure when I have kids I’ll be reading them to them.

Treasured, by Leigh McLeroy, is a book about finding God in everyday things. From the simple, routine checkout lines of grocery stores to the harrowing apartment fire, God is there in everything. Leigh offers personal stories and anecdotes from her own life to the reader, inviting them to learn with her. She shares her pains and her joys and how she sees God in them all.

This book serves as a reminder that in everything we do with our lives, God is there, watching and weaving His will. Leigh has no answers for the tough times of life (why do good people suffer?), but only reliance on God. I found her stories interesting and poignant and easy to relate to. The only real problem I had with the book was that I felt that it was more targeted towards women, which isn’t really a problem, but that I was in the wrong audience. Overall, this small book helps the reader realize God’s presence in the everyday life, and that is a good thing.

In conclusion, I enjoyed these books. They all are pure and simple in their messages, and that’s that God loves us. These books would make great Christmas presents for the upcoming holidays, and you can purchase them by following the links in the paragraphs above, clicking on the covers, or by going to Amazon.

All three of these books were provided for review by the WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group.

On Rewatching the Matrix, Being Sick, and the Penultimate Disney Favorite

I remember watching The Matrix back in 1999 and loving it.  The story was awesome, the special effects amazing, the philosophy deep and thought-provoking, the cyberpunk computer thing cool, and the overall film just plain good.  I’ve been wanting to rewatch the movie for a while now, and since I was sick and on the couch all day yesterday I decided to do so.

Ten years later and ten years wiser, my feelings were slightly different.  In fact, my Facebook status states: “After rewatching the Matrix, I’ve decided that it pretty much sucks…”  Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoyed the film, but not with the warm fuzzy feelings I had a decade ago.  Here are some reactions.

1.  Why the heck do Neo and Friends dress like they do when they enter the Matrix?  Is all that leather really practical?  I mean, sure, their outfits fit the “punk” genre, but that’s about it.  To me it looks like their clothing choice makes them stand out while in the Matrix, possibly drawing attention to themselves and thereby summoning the Agents.  Plus, it just can’t be comfortable.

2.  The machine v. man war, while not original, is okay.  I like how man scorched the sky to stop the machines from getting their needed solar power.  I like how the robots got smart and then enslaved man and harvested them for energy.  I like the whole creepy weird ~2199 time setting.

3.  Morpheus is just too much of a “I’m smarter than you blah blah” jerk.  I felt his character was too much of a philosophical guru this time around.  He’s all the time asking Neo these random questions (“[Do] you think that’s air you’re breathing now?”).  I understand that he’s trying to “free Neo’s mind” and all and that he’s trying to get him to understand himself, but the way Morpheus does it is just lame.

4.  Agent Smith is just too cool for school.  ‘Nuff said.

5.  Why, when Morpheus called Neo the second time and said “the phone is tapped” and that They were listening, did he tell Neo to meet him at a bridge and then let him go off on his own?  If They were listening, wouldn’t they know to go to the bridge and pick up Neo and Friends?

6.  What was so bad about living in the Matrix?  Sure, Neo felt that something was wrong, that something wasn’t right, but had no idea what it was.  To me it seemed like living in the Matrix was fine and dandy to practically everybody, except that life had problems.  Well, it looks like the Real World had more problems than living in the Matrix.  Like Cypher said, ignorance is bliss.  How much better would life be if Adam & Eve hadn’t eaten the fruit and had their eyes opened?  Likewise, how much better is life in the Matrix with eyes shut?

So those are some of my thoughts.  The movie is still fairly cool to watch, but it breaks down under scrutiny in my book.  Oh well.

I’m doing better today.  My nose is still stopped up and running (seems oxymoronic), but my head hasn’t hurt today, so that’s good.  Since I didn’t work yesterday, I spent the day playing Oblivion (I probably put in 8 hrs), watching The Matrix, reading Warbreaker, and cooking some soup.  All in all, a terribly exhausting day, though filled with entertainment.

The Lion King.  There.  Now you know.

Writing Wednesdays: The Absurdly Epic Tragedy of Oscambria 1.4

You can find the previous parts to this massive story here. Enjoy. Next week's edition I think takes on the "epic" form a bit more, at least in magnitude.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
V.
I would like to tell you, faithful readers,
That Oscambria’s journey was easy,
That he found out the truth quickly and put an end to his curse.
I would like to tell you that it did not take him fifteen miserable years
Of searching and false-hopes,
But that his disease was lifted that very day,
But I am no liar, and have sworn to write only the truth.

Instead I must relate to you the quick demise of the Hero,
Of how he was scorned immediately upon his leaving the theatre.
The throng that once loved and praised him
Now spat upon him, threw rotten fruit and other clichéd items at him,
Abhorring the very site of the cursed man,
Calling for his expulsion from his hometown,
The majestic city of Athins.

As he was quickly forced from the town
He did not spy Cornball and Rone watching him leave,
He did not notice the sneer of content and joy on Cornball’s yellow face
Or the burning hatred in his crimson eyes.
Nor did his ancestral god pity him as he was pushed along,
But he enflamed the crowd’s passions of hatred,
Urging them to quickly exile the cursed one.

No, it is likely Rone did not even hear the vow Oscambria had just made,
For if he had he would have likely been aware of the deception of Cornball.
I can fathom that Rone was still in a semi-lucid dream-state,
Probably still desiring corn flakes and virgins,
And that he paid no mind to anyone praying to him,
Even if someone made a Blood-cut oath,
It was still early in the hours for Rone.

And so Oscambria was banished from his homeland,
Warned to never return, even if the curse was removed,
For Cursed Ones never truly escape their fate.
Oscambria was not allowed to go to his home and collect his things,
He was not allowed to kiss his mother and sisters goodbye,
He was not allowed to salute his father and brothers farewell,
He was not allowed to retrieve his comfortable walking sandals.

He made his way down the jagged hills
As the rain began to fall,
Blackening his soul even more,
Washing the blood-juice down his clothes
And onto his greyed skin.
The heavens opened and the deluge fell,
Soaking the Hero through and through.

For a moment he fancied that the rain would wash away his curse,
Freeing him like a hare that’s released from a cage,
Ridding his skin of the filth and mire
That now plagued him,
Erasing the stench of his curse
And creating a new man,
But he knew it would not be so.

The countryside passed him by,
Barely a notice to him,
As he traversed the treacherous crags.
Sure-footed he was, and strong legged,
But still the wet, steep slopes were not free from danger.
Only once did he slip,
Falling a few feet before catching himself on a large stone.

“Thank the gods,” he said,
but immediately regretted his words.
How could he thank the gods?
It was they who cursed him,
But at the behest of whom?
And which in the pantheon of deities was it
That rendered him an outcast?

“Curse the gods!” he shouted,
and immediately regretted it, too.
“It’s not all of you I have a quarrel with,”
he went on to say, “but only the one who cursed me so.
I have wronged no one and do not know why this fate has befallen me.
Please, if anyone is listening,
Reveal yourself to me and ease my burden.”

But no god appeared to Oscambria,
And the rain continued to fall, heavy and cold.
“Bah!” he chided, “the gods!”
He soon spied an opening in the side of the hill,
A cave offering protection from the rain,
And made his way to it,
Stooping his tall form in order to enter.

The cavern was small and dark,
Perfect for an exile,
And Oscambria laid himself across the cold floor,
Resting his head on a hard rock like Jacob of Old did.
Yet sleep would not come to the Hero,
For the events of the day had been too much
For his weary mind to forget.

He thought of the looks of his admirers,
Of the appalling horror on their faces when the curse took him.
How quickly their fascination and joy from his performance died.
He thought of his acting as Cademeaus,
The doomed lover and masterpiece character of Steven the Bard,
And how brilliantly he had performed,
Perhaps his final role.

He thought of the sweet, stolen kiss of Telamarris after the show,
The beautiful virgin he’d had his secret eye on for some time.
There were plenty of women that had captured his body,
And he theirs,
But she was one of the few that had entranced his heart.
The surprised look on her face and the quick blush to her cheeks
And Oscambria knew he’d captured her heart, too.

He thought of his challenge to the yellow-faced Zzizgarg
And the reaction the immortal had given.
He’d simply wanted to joke with the immortal,
But the Blood-son was pompous and Fireblooded,
Not one to give audience to a child of a fleshling,
Even if it was centuries ago,
Even if they shared the same deity.

In a sense, Zzizgarg and Oscambria were brothers,
Though not in blood but by Fire.
The god Rone had mated with a mortal woman named Paliea,
And through her line the Fireblood stayed hidden until Oscambria was born.
Semi-mortal, gifted with Flame and skills far above mortals,
But peasantry and weak compared to the immortals,
He was used to being an outcast, even if he was famed.

He thought of his pet galleyrat, Mossossopia,
And a pang of heartache tore through him.
“Oh Mossossopia, how I long to hold thee
and scratch your silky fur,
how I yearn for your tiny teeth to nibble my finger.”
He wondered who would care of his galleyrat,
Or if his family would just let it starve.

He thought about his life, how he’d constantly been in the public’s eye.
They were attracted to him,
They followed him in all of his endeavors,
And they spread their gossip faster than he could travel.
His life of fame had its advantages,
But it also was a lonely existence,
Devoid of personal friendships.

“What have I done to upset you all,” he began praying,
“That you’ve saw fit to curse me so?
If I have offended in any way, forgive me.
I have served the Muses faithfully my whole life,
Letting their passions be my passions,
And I have asked for little in return.
Please reveal to me my error.”

In the darkness of the cave there was no response,
Only the steady sound of rain hitting the ground outside.
Night waxed full now, and the moon was hidden by the storm clouds.
The Fire that burned through Oscambria’s veins kept him warm,
But he was not immune to the crisp cave air.
He stripped his stained acting garments off, scrubbing at the juice-blood,
And laid them out to dry.

Oscambria did not stay awake all night,
But soon was overtaken with fatigue and he faded into Dream,
The realm where mortals, immortals, gods, and all others meld together.
It was here, in the Worlds of Haze,
Where the Hero found out the meaning behind his curse,
discovered who was responsible,
And learned of his great and terrible destiny.

Ughhhhh

Yeah, so I don’t feel any better. Everything tastes like snot and mucus and my head is borderline explosive. I had a moment of sweet bliss this morning around 5:00 when I woke up, took my Vicks nose spray and gave myself two bursts up the nasal cavities. I lay there on my back, able to breathe, and fell back asleep.

Now I’m sitting here wondering if I’m going to make it through the day or if I should just go home and lay down. For now, I press on. For later, who knows?

In news, and I’m sure most of you know, Pat Rothfuss has once again posted a few blog posts about the Heifer Fund fundraiser. In fact, he’s formed a group called Worldbuilders, which I think sounds pretty sweet. Last year, Pat matched every dollar donated, which happened to be around $53k. He almost went broke from that, so this year he’s matching 50% of every dollar. There are thousands of prizes to win through the fundraiser. To be eligible you must donate through Pat’s page. More information is available here at his blog.

So, since I’ve felt like a sack full of crap for a few days I’ve been laying on the couch quite a bit. That means I’ve been playing a lot of Oblivion, which I’m finding pretty fun and entertaining, though not as much as Fallout 3.

In other news I managed to clear up around 2 gigs of my iPod by down converting many of my higher bit rate (~anything above 192kbit) to 128kbit. I can’t really tell a difference in the sound quality. So yay to me.

Yet another piece of news is that I failed (miserably) at my NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words. I made it to 21k, got a little bored, got really busy, got some other excuses and stalled. So, perhaps one day I’ll finish the story I started. I’ve got goals and things set for it, but I don’t know. I kind of see myself as more of a short story writer as opposed to long stories.

No one figured out my second favorite Disney film. Really. I thought it was pretty obvious, but apparently not. Of course, it’s highly probable no one bothered to look. I doubt I would. See, sometimes I get my wires crossed and my audience mixed up. I’m doing this whole blog thing for myself, and when the fancy strikes, for you folks. (O the sweet, sweet taste of pumpkin delights.) Often I find it difficult to differentiate between them, but the difference is there.

In STAR WARS related news, check out this "Best of Star Wars Twitter Thanksgiving Meme" thing. My favorite was either "It's as if millions of green beans cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced" or "I am altering the meal. Pray I don't alter it further." Pretty funny stuff. And also there's this Storm Trooper Elvis cubecraft thing, which I printed out and made. As a word of advice, if you do this, use the suggested cardstock paper, not regular paper. Mine was pretty tough to do since I used regular paper.

I don’t really want to be staring at a computer screen the rest of the day. I bought a new digital camera. I passed my Erosion test that I took a week or two ago, so now I’m an officially state-certified Erosion Inspector. Goodnight moons. Writing Wednesday tomorrow.