Brutally Frank

 

Once again, it's time to haul out the boards and start hammering them over anything that's likely to shatter when the *sinister music* STORM OF THE CENTURY comes roaring in. :O (That's how the local media is presenting it, anyway.) To be completely honest, I'm running around like a lunatic because I'm so excited. (Or maybe it's this coffee...I ordered DECAF, dammit!)

I guess I'll have to confess: My name is Alex, and I am a meteorology nut (it's my minor too). Hell, it's been an obsession for me ever since I was about three and saw an episode of Sesame Street when all of the little muppets were worried because a hurricane was coming; they didn't know what a hurricane was, and all of the grown-ups were doing weird things like taping up windows and being willfully obtuse...

Oops. Digression.

Anyway, if I had the time or money I'd spend every spring driving all over the Midwest with a video camera looking for tornados. When I say this, most people tend to stare at me like I'm mad and dangerous and then launch into a rant that basically implies that I'm going to burn in hell because I display interest in such dangerous phenomena. (This happened to me today, so that's probably why I'm ranting now...) So, to clear things up:

Point One:

The tornado/hurricane/blizzard/earthquake/plague of locusts is not an evil intelligence out to wreak havoc on humanity for the hell of it-- it's an indifferent force of nature that's part of a massively complex global weather system that we're only beginning to understand. Consider: if generations' worth of scientists hadn't devoted their lives to studying hurricanes, we wouldn't know anything about their inner workings or how to predict their patterns of movement, and you can be damn sure that a lot more people would die. (Speaking of which, Haiti has been having a very rough time this summer, so if you have the means, please consider donating to the Haitian relief effort. Here's the Red Cross site: http://american.redcross.org/site/PageServer?pagename=ntld_main )

Point Two:

The phrase "be careful what you wish for" is ridiculous, so don't throw that at me when I'm waxing ecstatic about ocean currents. First of all, I am not actively wishing for a hurricane to hit any area where I'm currently living-- I just believe in being prepared for any eventuality, and if a massive storm should hit, then I'd like to know as much as possible about what's happening so that I can be calm and rational about it. Secondly, even if I were, just what effect could that possibly have on an actual event? Neither I nor anyone I know has any super X-Men weather powers, so how the hell is any mental effort supposed to play an active role in determining the course of actual events? That's absurd, so stop it.

Point Three:

Take a look at this:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f7/Isabel-eyewall-091203.jpg

That. Is. Beautiful.

I mean, just look! Can you imagine the complexity of a force of nature like that? Can you imagine that weather systems on the other side of the planet are actively affecting the generation of this type of storm from the moment it glides off the coast of Africa as a little fluffy rainshower? Isn't it amazing to think that the whole storm is powered by a gigantic flaming ball of hydrogen drifting through the void of space ninety-three million miles away? Isn't it incredible to think that storms like this were already churning up the atmosphere back when one of our little fishy ancestors was thinking that taking a walk on the shore sounded like a pretty cool idea?

I know what I think: It's freakin' awesome.

So, if a storm ever comes your way, take a few minutes to google some information before getting down to the boarding-up business. And in the next few days, if you happen to see news footage of a random idiot running around through the eyewall with a barometer, don't worry, it's just me.

http://www.reuters.com/article/scienceNews/idUSL256586320080625

Let us all bow our heads and pray to Joe Pesci.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/06/23/carlin.obit/index.html 

 I can imitate odd voices, i.e. cartoon characters, Muppets, etc. I'm pretty sure I get this from my mom, who can do exactly the same thing. All either of us have to do is listen to a character for a few minutes and then mimic them. 

My current repertoire is: Yoda (Star Wars), Stitch, Pleakley (Lilo and Stitch), Gollum (Lord of the Rings), Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, Gonzo, Rizzo, Animal (all Muppets), Roz (Monsters Inc.), Abu, Iago (Aladdin) pretty much everyone from Darkwing Duck (but doing Negaduck really kills my throat-- oy), Timon, Ed, Zazu (The Lion King), Bo Peep, Rex, Jessie (Toy Story), the Daleks (Doctor Who), and Alpha 5 (original Power Rangers).

My, it's been a long time since I've updated this thing. Now, I'm currently on the computer at UH looking for something interesting to do...

I'll write something else later.

For some reason I find myself very alert and energetic as soon as the sun goes down. On days like today, especially, when the sky was completely cloudless and the sunlight glaring on the pavement was bright enough to melt your retinas, I end up becoming lethargic and irritable unless I'm comfortable in the shade.  But as soon as twilight hits, I'm awake and ready to start the day. Or night. Whatever.

So, after careful consideration, I have reached the only possible conclusion: I'm part bat.

...

Look, I'm a writer, okay?

My throat hurts. Every time a cold front comes through during the night, my throat hurts in the morning. And I've been planning to go surfing today all week and then a blinkin' cold front comes and blows the waves flat.

DAMN YOU, CORIOLIS FORCE!

...In other words, I have no rational way of procrastinating and am going to really have to get back to work on my chapters, and also finish reading the Brecht play for class, and...oh, that's it, actually.

I was born in the Year of the Rabbit.

Yeppers.

Can you tell I have writer's block?

...

Actually, I don't, but this past week has been so bad and stressful that I really don't want to write about it yet.

 Rudy 

 July 23, 2007 - January 29, 2008 

RIP

Ich glaube, dass zu viele Leute Spanisch sprechen oder vestehen koennen, also schreibe ich jetzt auf Deutsch, aber nur um eine Angeberin zu sein. Hah.

Also...ich habe heute nicht viel getan, ausserdem in die Uni zu gehen, und das war gluecklicherweise sehr interessant. Im letzen Semester waren meine Klassen ganz furchtbar, aber dieses Jahr scheinen sie etwas besser zu sein. Das Wetter ist heute kalt und generell schrecklich, und ich wollte (und immer noch will) zum Barnes and Nobles zu fahren, aber ich habe gehoert, dass viele Strassen schon ueberfluetet sind. Scheisse. Ich mag den Cafe, wahrscheinlich nur weil ich dort klar denken und schreiben kann, ohne unterbrochen oder gestoert zu werden. 

Und jetzt darf ich nicht. Ich hasse dieses Regen. Ugh.

Attributed to Rathbod, king of the Frisians, upon being told by a Catholic missionary that Vahalla was actually the Christian hell:

"Dastardly priest! How dare you say that my ancestors have gone to hell? I would rather --yes, by their god, the great Wotan, I swear-- I would ten thousand times rather join those heroes in their hell, than be with you in your heaven of priests!"

Does it make me pathetic if the high point of my day was spending two hours balancing on a wobbly board?

Then screw it, I'm pathetic! Wheeeeee!

...It was okay.

But on the plus side, I sketched a pretty dragon. :)

 

And a really quick doodle of Benny.

 

 Haven't posted for a while for reasons currently beyond my ken.

I just logged onto Critique Circle for the first time in nearly nine months, and closed the browser window a few minutes ago floundering in the wake of a wave of revulsion.

I was a member of that site for about a year, and I will say this: it thickened my skin when it came to critiques. I learned to take serious criticism gracefully (and without getting my feelings hurt), and learned to distinguish the useful suggestions from the bullshit. In that respect it was a positive experience.

Now to what pissed me off: the people.

I'm not a misanthrope. Even when I'm in a "Linkin Park" mood, I don't usually have a problem with most people I meet. But at Critique Circle...oy.

For one thing --and this is probably unreasonable of me, but it's my journal and I'll say whatever I fucking want-- I am sick of having to comb through a six thousand word chapter and correct every fucking spelling/punctuation/grammatical error. Is it so hard to obtain a basic command of the English language before you start banging out your masterpiece? (There were a few cases where I critiqued chapters by nonnative speakers; that didn't bother me, but most of the time these people were British or American, for fuck's sake.) Do you have any idea what it's like to correct an entire novel that appears to be written in very bad Faroese, and then have these same people return a critique along the lines of "I like it rite mor plz"? For over a year?

Two: the Desperate Housewives. I refuse to have a clique of (by their own admission) bored middle-aged New Jersey housewives whose novels consist of ripoffs of Brigadoon --I'm not joking-- talk down to me because I'm younger than them. I won't tolerate it. I don't care if you're ninety-- if you imply that my age makes my writing somehow inferior to yours, I will tell you to go to hell.

Three: Saccharine levels. There is no honesty. Anything that smacks of truth, i.e. something that may lead little Johnny to believe that his first draft is not at the point of Borg-level perfection, is couched in the most timid, wussiest language imaginable. For Christ's sake, I joined that site because I wanted honest feedback, no matter how ego-damaging it might be, not some Pollyanna shit. (Glad game, anyone?) And then being expected to regurgitate said Pollyanna shit back at these people...look, I have never flamed anyone, or insulted anyone, or been cruel in a critique or a review. But I do tell the truth as I see it, which, apparently, the denizens of Critique Circle cannot handle unless smothered in the drippings of sweetness and light. Why the hell am I expected to spit out some crap that I know isn't true, just to give someone else an ego boost?

Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch, that place sucked.

Wow, it's been a while since I've posted an entry that had anything actually written in it.

So...I've decided to go ahead and sign up for the next semester, which will still leave me a lot of time to work and at the same time prevent me from becoming isolated and weird and believing that my neighbors are serial killers because of the suspicious behavior I've been observing through my telescope.

Yep. So...I'm working through a ton of books, have started critical revisions for Part One of Grimm, finally, FINALLY finished Chapter 22 of SGII in time for Christmas Day (whee!) and am making really great progress on my Temeraire ficathon project, which has exploded into something that's probably going to be novella-length by the time I'm done with it, (and I'm really going to have to work like hell in time to get it finished by January 31. Wait, why the hell am I typing this instead of working on something?)

Good point, O Inner Voice of Reason. Signing off. 

Get Your Monster Name

 

Lucy
RIP

I think this article speaks for itself.

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/world/story/0,,2224553,00.html 

When I was in Germany this summer I picked up a book called "Die Traenen der Toechter", or "The Tears of the Daughters", which dealt with an African woman's struggle to eliminate genital mutilation. It's a great book; I don't know if it exists in English.

But when it comes to this country, what really pisses me off is how people appear to tiptoe around this issue by calling it "cultural" and trying to be all PC about it. Look: the circumcision of a child, whether male or female, is a form of assault. Look, who gives a shit if it's tradition? Female circumcision (in this example) is a crime against humanity that causes unspeakable suffering, and I don't give a flying fuck whether it's integral to some culture or other. This is wrong, and it has to end.

And that goes for male circumcision too; what are the religious morons saying by doing it, that God got it wrong or something? Blasphemy! Burn the heretic!

I suppose the whole issue has something to do with the general human terror of sex, which I personally find quite mystifying. Pardon the pun, but what the fuck is the big deal? Other than the dangers of unwanted pregnancy or venereal disease, which are easily preventable today, most of this fear seems to be religiously inclined, like a lot of neuroses. Of course. 

Damn, if there were only no religion...



And in other news...a few days ago I ripped my foot open on something while walking in the backyard, (Ow!) developed some disturbing symptoms two days later, (Oh, crap...) discovered that my tetanus shot was out-of-date, (Oh, shit!), ended up in the hospital (Oh, fuck!), which scared my family horribly, (Oh, hell...) got several shots in both arms (Ow, ow, OW!) and am now on a monthlong antibiotic course to prevent me from dying in horrible convulsions.

And I feel so fucking guilty about it. I scared the hell out of everyone I love, just because I was too much of a moron to put some shoes on before I went outside.

Yes, the idiot tag is for me.

 I could very easily spend this whole post bitching about the week of hell I just endured and life in general...so that's exactly what I'm going to do.

The week from Thanksgiving to now has been completely mad. Not only did I have to put together half of a vegan Thanksgiving (but my absolutely fantastic grandmother made all the good food. I'm not worthy!) but I had to write an eight-page paper on Good Bye, Lenin! in German, study for the geology exam from hell, pay constant attention to a pair of very spoiled kittens, study for a math exam, study for an English final, and then write an English paper.

That's just until today. From now until next Friday, I have to study for my geology and math finals, which are promising to be horrible.

I've gotten almost no writing done, haven't been to the beach for at least three weeks, and am so sleep-deprived that I'm developing migraines.

I hate, hate, hate, HATE COLLEGE!