Plaid Owl

Another Break

2005-09-23T11:13:00.000-07:00

Next week sees the dawn of a new college term. Creative Fiction Writing (yay), Drawing (yay), and Statistics 1 again (boo). I'm also going to be taking art lessons on my own time as well as obtaining an income, so I'm afraid I won't be updating this for a while. Then again, I've said that before and then I updated it anyway, so...

Ah, to be an artist... to write like Tolkien, Lewis, and other famous people who I feel that I should say I've read so I can sound intellectual. Yeah, I've read Twain and Melville and.. other.. guys... let's go with that. I've read Poe, liked him. [This stems mainly from a youth spent reading primarily nonfiction --Ed.] And to create visuals that would put me in the same ranks of Bateman, Lyman, Poortvliet, Howe, and MacNelly... Y'see, here I have more of an idea of what I'm talking about.

So, to all of you who read this [all one of you that probably stopped reading five posts ago --Ed.], ta for now.

I'm off to get a TB test. So I can do yet another activity. Volunteer at the zoo. With owls.

Marvel At My Testostrone Levels

2005-09-03T21:44:00.000-07:00

Let me explain something here. I have very good facial hair genes. I have never seen myself without a mustache before, not with this facial structure, at least. I started growing it at the onset of puberty and never bothered to shave it off, enjoying the thrill of oneupsmanship I had over the rest of my peers, so eager to "grow up." My chin quickly followed suit and, by high school, I was enjoying my "think pad."

The cheeks, however, got a little scraggly and uneven, so I eventually took Remington in hand and buzzed away my worries. Such has been the state of affairs since. I like my beard. So far I can only justify a goatee, what with my cheeks still growing a bit unevenly. Sometimes, though, I just don't care and I let it go. Such was the case for the last few weeks. It's not so bad once the throat hairs grow long enough to not be all prickly and bristly. But they don't really look good without a full beard on the face to distract one's attention. And my beard was growing a bit high on my face.

So there I was at the mall, with my parents, enjoying a great day of Chinese food [best orange chicken ever --Ed.] and window shopping. Now, I had not taken a shower for a couple days and, coupled with my Cro-magnon visage, I was feeling pretty self-conscious.

Then, on the way home, I spoke to my mom about how thick rimmed glasses seem to be back "in." I want to know what brought about this rapid paradigm shift in fashion. We go from thick rims, to thin rims, to wire rims, to rimless, to just plonking the lenses onto our eyeballs, to thick rims. I don't get it. Anyway, I had noticed that an employee in one of the shops had been wearing them and this prompted my mom to remember that, while I had been gone, she had told my mother that she thought I "possessed an Olympian physique the likes of which would make Michaelangelo's David curl up in the fetal position." Or, at least, she said I was cute; you have to know how to read between the lines.

So, now feeling very empowered, I said how good that made me feel, on this day in which I felt that I looked my worst, especially with my beard the way it was. Mom suggested I shave it. I hemmed and hawed ("Hem. Haw." --Jeff) at this but decided that it would be nice to start from a clean slate.

So, after a nice hot shower I took up my Mach 3 Turbo and shed my face of it's lycanthropic exterior [he shaved his face --Ed.]. But, for the first time in my entore life, I didn't just stop at the ol' soupcatcher. Nor did I start with it. Nope, the ol' cookieduster went first. And, I have to say, I don't look too bad with just a goatee. A little Amish, maybe, in my plaid shirt, but what a studmuffinly Mennonite I make. Truth be told, I just got annoyed with the mustache after a while, what with stray hairs getting too long and either gown down into my mouth or up my nose. But I like my beard. And I am currently growing it back. I don't like how I look with just a mustache. Tried that; didn't work.

And, on the topic of attractive people, I've had a discussion with a friend where we both agree that the women of Battlestar Galactica just aren't really that attractive. They're not unattracitve, but, to us... there's just nothing there that draws us in. Not even Number Six. Maybe it's how she reminds me of my eighth grade math teacher. I dunno. I mean, I think the cutest one is, maybe, Crewman Cally, but she's more "cute as a button."

But, I was watching an episode of Star Trek: Voyager tonight ("Alice") where Tom renovates some junked ship which has a "NeuroGenic Interface," which beams a woman into his head; sort of like a combination of Number Six and Andromeda. Now, what I noticed right away was, "Hey, she's pretty." Kind of reminded me of Julie Cox, another beautiful actress.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think my beard is growing back.

grrr...

mmph...

uugghhNNNHHH!!

CAN'T... STOP... THE CHANGE!

*Facial hairs sprout out and wreak havoc on local townsfolk, causing one lone reporter to doggedly pursue the culprit. Sad piano music follows."

What Jeff Wrote Before Cleaning The Aquarium

2005-08-31T21:28:00.000-07:00

Know what? I'm old.

I went to the library yesterday and visited the children's section, to the aisle where I used to make a beeline for when I was a young'un: the dinosaur section. And what I found interesting was that, among the horde of shiny, new offerings still sat the same books that I had flipped through when I would frequent the aisle. Such makes for an unstoppable nostalgia attack.

In this, I found myself remarking (to myself), "It's too bad that kids today can't experience the eighties." And then I stopped and blinked, realizing what I had just thought. So what does that make me, now that I've had a "back in my day" moment?

And the shocking thing is that it was real, not a joke. I almost felt sorry for kids today having the internet and deeveedees and stuffed animals that could pass a Turing Test. I remember playing Duck Hunt on the original NES. Remember that? I still have no idea how that gun worked. I'm positive that that's a product of research at some Groom Lake-type facility. Failed super-weapon, successful child's plaything. But I have digressed.

But as much as I could sit here and reminisce about "the good ol' days" (days when things were good and ol') I think that is the essence of the whole thing. I, personally, am disappointed with how the world and my life is turning out. The world has just about always been this way, it seems; every day I have one more illusion about the state of things dashed into the dust. I always assume that people, at large, are nicer and, generally, more decent than they actually are (including myself). In my disenfranchised state [Look intelligent through use of big, esoteric words --Ed.] I look back to my childhood for some kind of utopia; like Adam looking back at the Garden of Eden, seeing a life of labor in thorns ahead. I guess that would make puberty my cherubim and flaming sword. Which is probably a much better example than my first thought, of me being like the Battlestar Galactica, looking to the past for protection.

That was way deeper than I was anticipating. I guess that's what I get for reading an essay on the nature of "Freedom And The Illusion of Freedom" in that Finding Serenity book. I guess there's not much I can do now except email my cousin, admittedly belatedly, to rub in his thirtieth birthday. The first of my generation in my family has officially left childhood behind him. Thirty. Years. Old. Old. I am currently trying to enjoy my early twenties, with the looming spectre of life laughing at me. I talked with a high-school friend about how, in the next ten years, we may very well acquire real jobs, wives, and children. My mom consoled me by saying that she'll be old, deaf, and blind by the time I procreate (or, to quote, "so old deaf, and blind"). Love ya, Mom :).

Both of my cousins have kids. My girl cousin (the mother of the cutest one that just turned one; see below) just found out that she's pregnant with her second child. And where does that leave me? I'm too young to be old and too old to be young. And, of course, that's a lie and will probably serve to compound the problem further, leading to me reliving my childhood in the form of periodic psychotic breaks, but at least it allows me to summarize this and neatly store it in my subconscious so that I don't to go through the discomfort of undergoing something similar to a spiritual journey of self-discovery. Because that might lead to some kind of personal metamorphosis, which my fear of change will not allow. And while the previous few statements have been self-depreciating, sardonic comments meant for humorous purposes, I think I may have hit on something. Perhaps people aren't afraid of change, they're afraid of changing. They're not afraid of the weapon, they're afraid of the death.

And I just wanted to a read a dinosaur book.

Yes, Ms. O'Neal, There Is An Arizona

2005-08-29T00:41:00.000-07:00

I got back from Arizona today; land of the Grand Canyons and no fireworks (more on that later). I went down there on Friday to celebrate my cutest cousin's first ever birthday (I have two new cousins, and the girl must trump the boy, cute-agraphically). Now, this was the first flight that I've taken since, I think, the fourth grade, so I was a little nervous. Thoughts of Auric Goldfinger's demise flashed through my mind during the all too strung out take off (followed, of course, by the part where you lurch forward like a podracer). But the in-flight service ruled. I got orange juice; I love ojay like Sheridan in Season 2 of Babylon 5 (wow, I'm full of references today).

One thing that I noticed about a flight from Phoenix to Portland is the terrain below. Watching it goes as follows: desert, desert, desert, ooh Grand Canyon!, desert... *snrk* mmf -- fell asleep, desert, desert, confusedifyou'reoverNevadaorUtahnotthatitreallymatters, desert, Dense Forest as you go over the Cascades and into Portland.

Also, I finally found what is missing over here in the cities just outside of Portland: The Rainforest Cafe. Apparently it's a chain of restaurants and I went with the family to the one in Phoenix. Now, when I first heard talk about this place, I envisioned a place with potted palms, dribbling waterfall walls, and some fake parrots every now and then. Then I arrived outside... amidst the giant mushrooms. Oh My Goodness. This place was so incredibly, wonderfully over-the-top! The entire restaurant was almost as dim as an Outback Steak House, with the ceiling coated in fake foliage and hanging vines (which impressed me, because ceilings are hard to decorate; I know that and I'm not even a home decorater). The walls featured animatronic elephants and apes that would act up occasionally. Mothra's brood placidly flapped their wings. And every now and then a tropical thunderstorm would flash lightning and thunder through the whole place. Aquariums cast their luminous blue glow on thick tree trunks between tables. In the center of the place, the ceiling displayed a nighttime starry sky, with shooting stars flashing by the moon as a leopard growled nearby. A big, golden man in a fountaining pond held up a globe with illuminated continents and "Rescue The Rainforest" written on it.

Now I think you can fully appreciate it when I say that the man making the balloon animals for the kids was kind of disappointing to watch. It was just some guy in a top hat. Now, in keeping with the theme, I would have expected him to be dressed in more of a stereotypical witch-doctor style. I mean, at least replace the top hat with some feathery headdress!

We really need a place like this around here, just outside of Portland. Because we just have normal restaurants. If you want to go somewhere fun, you generally end up heading to downtown Portland. But if you want to go to a place to hang out and have fun, you generally have to come up with your own ideas in Beaverton/Hillsboro/Aloha. Rainforest Cafe has a downright magical ambience that beats any old memorabilia they might have in an Applebee's. I mean, do they realize what a mega-hit this place would be? Oh, well.

Dessert consisted of a Volcano. Three big brownies, big scoops of vanilla ice cream, whipped topping. Real good. Aside from convincing me that ice cream and brownies were made for each other (see below), I also learned that there are no fireworks in Arizona. The picture of the Volcano on the menu showed a sizzling sparkler on top (hence "Volcano"), but what we got was a glittery, tassley thing.

What I learned is that fireworks, among the other incarnations of fire, seem to be illegal down in Ayzee. Which must make for incredibly boring Julys. Not just Screaming Bees and Sparklers, but they won't even allows Cobras, for goodness sake! Remember those? The little black pellets that grew in snakey shapes when you held a match to them? [Not even Pop-Its! --Ed.] I'm wondering if you need to register your Zippo, down there... Oh, well, facetiousness aside, I'm sure there's some reasoning behind it... but still...

Okay, what I also figured out was that ice cream is for brownies, not cake. Despite all of the birthday parties that we've all been to, I'm pretty sure of this now. Cake is too fluffy for a food as thick is ice cream. That's what I've always thought and it's just now been made clear. That's why you put frosting or whipped topping on cake, something that's also light and fluffy [marshmallow frosting, if you're awesome --Ed.]. Or... heh... I think it's time to let you in on A Little Secret...

How To Make Awesome Cake. Bake a cake mix. Instead of filling it with that gross creamy frosting or jelly-stuff, make the middle layer --are you listening?-- whipped yogurt. Then, for frosting, give the top a base coat of normal frosting [marshmallow frosting, if you're awesome --Ed.] and, on top of that, a layer of gel frosting. Decorate to taste. Now, back to your previously scheduled brownie.

Brownies have a texture that complements ice cream. The only problem is that brownies seem to be pretty limited, flavor-wise, when compared with cake, leading into my finishing aside.

Have you ever noticed how fudge is different from chocolate? Because I'm still trying to learn that. Whenever I go to eat something fudgey I look at it and, subconsciously, think "chocolate." And then my tongue weirds me out with another flavor. It's kind of gross at first. Then, "Ooohh... not chocolate. Fudge." Then it's really, really good.

Speaking of ice cream, I've always wondered this.
Speaking of fudge, go and order Bumble Buzz from that cute girl at the local Baskin-Robbins. And have fun saying it.

Get Your Romance-Period Choiral Piece Groove On

2005-08-24T03:51:00.000-07:00

After rewatching the Battlestar Galactica miniseries I've been sort of warming back up to it and, after finding these Farscape [a series he has yet to seriously watch --Ed.] music videos, I went looking to see if there were any BSG ones. Lo and behold. This is some of the awesomest music ever. I am, of course, referring to the domainating track, "Ebla" by E.S. Posthumus. It really reminded me of "Furious Angels" by Rob Dougan from the The Matrix: Reloaded soundtrack (the song that almost made me want to learn how to ballroom dance). And Best Of All, a lot of their music can be listened to, in full, at their website. So go and enjoy.

You know, I'm my father's son when it comes to spending (see: frugal), but I just may break down and buy this. Yeah, right. But, hey, the fact that it made me think about it for a minute says something.

I was interested to find that one of E.S.P's tracks, "Harappa," was used as the music for a trailer for a film that students at my old high school did.

Quick Notes

2005-08-21T20:40:00.001-07:00

In our current state of LotsOfMoney-less-ness, we've begun hanging our clothes up to dry on a line outside, in order to save on electrical bills. It was working fine (although the clothes don't get quite as soft) until two of the three lines fell down. Probably gonna have to rethink our arrangement.

I had Taco Bell today. Really makes me think of how disappointing it is when compared wtih Gilberto's, down in Roseburg. I love that stuff. Even the sides are... magical. It's all salty salty, though, so I invariably end up chugging down a lot of root beer with it. Maybe we'll stop there on the way down to Gold Beach in September. Yeah...

Why Is Liar Liar Going To Be Shown On Scifi Channel?

2005-08-21T01:54:00.000-07:00

I went to frisbee again today. I got hit by the disc four times, in the head, shoulder, leg, and car. Saw a guy that I hadn't seen for years among the alumni present. I'm just wondering how long this activity will go on before others take priority.

These activites aren't just college related, but also things that I want to work on, hobbywise. Among these are stories. I have multiple ideas for stories that I want to write, among them are scifi and fantasy. My despair comes whenever I stop by a Borders or Barnes & Noble and stroll through the scifi/fantasy section. The sheer volume of works currently in the market can be intimidating to behold. I don't know how many of them are actually good (I know what Sturgeon would say).

I saw that a new Dune book is coming out. In that series, I've only read Dune, the first part of The Butlerian Jihad, and the first part of House Atreides. I stopped on those latter two simply because I got sidetracked. I wouldn't mind taking them back up again, though. I'm great at starting books, but terrible at finishing them. Coincidentally, I'm watching David Lynch's Dune on TV right now; dang that little girl is creepy (I don't think she was that much better in the Hallmark Miniseries, either)! The feeling always fades, but when I watch her, I shudder out loud.

As this post ends, I keep thinking of how unfulfilling these braindumps are to me, as a writer. Oh, well.

- Appreciation: Mur Lafferty has a new podcast for people like me.
- Resentment: I learned that we payed $800 dollars for a television that can't degauss.

Science: Run by Mike Everhart, Oceans Of Kansas is an interesting website and resource of information on the fossils of Kansas and that general region. The stars here tend to be plesiosaurs, mosasaurs, and pterosaurs.
Art: The Halls Of Creation is the page of the Brothers Koiter. Sadly, the one who penned the art passed away last year, but his artwork is still up here for us to admire. I recommend Goblin Zeppelin, Apocalyptic Vision, and King Of Clubs. This project also sounds fun.
Otherwise: Want to see what's going on at that infamous Northwestern volcano?

"It's Time For Some Swearing And It's Time For Some Fun"

2005-08-20T00:21:00.000-07:00

"Man, Chinese pirates were bad!"
"Well, I think most pirates were."
"No! I mean... like, as in, 80's 'bad!' As in, good. Well, if I swore I'd say bad***. But I don't, so I won't."
"Oh... wait..."

Yeah, actual conversation, that. And it's something that's been bugging me for quite a while.
I try to swear as little as possible and I think that I do a pretty good job, as it is. This is not to say that I am always completely succesful; I may slip up when frightened, in pain, or otherwise under great duress. But even when that happens, it's only a single word, never a tirade or anything.

My point is, hang around me and you're in for a lot of "dangs," "goodness'," and the occasional "whoops."

Now this can be frustrating for me, because I find that the exclamations that have the best sound to them seem to be swear words. "Darn" and "dang" just don't quite carry the punch of a well placed... see, I even feel guilty writing it. Maybe we can compromise. "Hydroelectric plant!" How's that?

"But, Jeff," you say, "you recently wrote a post in your blog where you say "Big Damn Heroes'." True, I chose to do that because... well, there's really no other way to put that. Kind of like the "foo bird" joke.

But, I feel that this could all be good, in the end. With the loss of swear words, one might have to be more creative in attempting to convey intense emotion. Don't ask me how. Maybe learn Mandarin. Nah, that's probably just me wishing that I had seen Firefly tonight. I had to give it up in order to attend a party. The only reason that I actually debated this is that I'm trying get my mom into Firefly. But, in the end, I traded one shindig for another. But it was cool. Free food. Fun people. I lost croquet. Quite graciously, I might add. My opponent will regain the use of his arm tomorrow.

Also, one thing that I'm wondering, are there any computer games out there that will let me create and maintain an Area 51 type facility? Area 51 Tycoon? Like that Evil Genius game... but with more replay value. I'd play that demo. Because that's all I do. I can't remember the last full game that I bought [Fifty bucks for a video game... ugh... --Ed.].

Also been thinking of setting up a DeviantArt account, or something. I started thinking this when I drew myself as an Irken Invader, last night. Didn't come out half bad (medium: pencil on back of Winco receipt).

Buh-dum-chh!

2005-08-18T23:58:00.000-07:00

What did they say about the two conspiratorial owls from an ancient South American empire?
Highlight text.

They were inca hoots.

It's really late.

2005-08-17T04:07:00.000-07:00

You know what I have to do tomorrow? First, I have to go try and figure out some more odd things about financial aid at the college campus. Then on the way home I have to buy kitty litter for our geriatric cats that have become more and more... productive. And ice. I have to buy ice. For our drinks.

I also have taken to going to frisbee again with people from my high school. The only problem that arises with this is when an actual game of ultimate frisbee gets going I realize that I've never really been a "sports person." I am, as they say, a "Knight of the Dinner Table." I like board games, puzzles, and other games that don't necessarily require me stumbling across a field, gasping in ragged breaths. All of which done to give the impression that I have some kind of athletic skill and, thus, more worth as a person. I like throwing a disc around as much as the next guy, but there's something about organized sports... Remember Calvinball? That's right up my alley, generally. I was the arts'n'crafts kid, not the running-around type.

- Appreciation: Peanut Butter, Jelly, and M&M sandwiches (toasted, of course, as all sandwiches should be).
- Resentment: That my house is still predominately messy, which means that my many planned projects will remain in limbo until it becomes cleaner and more orderly.

Science: I've always maintained that it would be great if they could somehow devise a healthy chocolate, especially now that I'm no longer a teenager and have to start worrying about health-related issues. Well, it turns out that dark chocolate already has some good stuff in it. Problem is, I'm more of a milk chocolate guy.
Art: The works of Kazu Kibuishi are found at his site, Bolt City. Really nicely done comic art. The various episodes of "Copper" may seem a bit random, but they're still well done. He seemed to capture my current, general feelings about romance in this one quite nicely (love is like a blackberry vine: sweet fruit, painful thorns, and invasive like nothing else). He also has me wanting to read more of Daisy Kutter than what's online.
Otherwise: I saw this, by the makers of Magical Trevor, on TV tonight and immediately fell in love with it. I wish my kitties did that dance.Also, I think I want a T-shirt with the quote in the third panel of this.

Great Moment In Profundity # 75

2005-08-14T21:41:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered where nail clippings go? Sometimes I trim my nails outside, but more often it's inside. Whenever I try to aim for a trash basket the clippings tend to fly off and hide somewhere, so I usually just clip wherever I happen to be sitting. My question is... where are all of these clippings? I never encounter them again. If there's some fairy making off with them, then could she at least leave some change? I'm trying to get through college loan-free.

Releaved...

2005-08-13T21:11:00.000-07:00

I have so many of these in my front yard. These guys romp around the front walk in the daylight hours and slugs make their appearance at night. Boxelder bugs are freaky, because they fly into us and make a red streak when you squish 'em. Their presence might have something to do with the big boxelder tree in our front yard. I was terrified that they might be some kind of dangerous bloodsucking bloodsucker. More of a juicesucker, it seems. I'll go back to sucking on my BubbaKeg (an amazing product that keeps my beverage ice-cold for hours!).

The Next Few Months

2005-08-12T23:54:00.000-07:00

So, here's what I'd like to see happen in my life in the months to come.

First off, I'd like to start writing more. This means reading, journaling, and doing more refined writing than these freewrote, late-night braindumps y'all see here. I've been told that "writers write." I've also had people tell me that my writing is quite good (or, at least, that they've enjoyed it) and that I should be a writer instead of a scientist. I find this interesting, because, in defiance of that first item, I don't write. This here, what you're reading right now, this is usually about it. At least "it" in terms of writing that I do on my own time, as opposed to homework for school. So, more writing for Jeff.

Secondly, I need some form of income. I'm *this* close to saying, "Forget financial aid and all of its complications and nuances." I want to be done with college, establish contacts, and maybe even be able to buy myself stuff. My experiences at Target traumatized me enough, however, that I'm terrified to walk into any retail establishment looking for employment. I know that reshelving deodorant and floor lamps isn't incredibly high up on the Big Chart O' Misery, especially when compared to things like concentration camps, mental illness, and Donner-party level survival situations (things that I wouldn't dare compare my own experience with)... but, nevertheless, it's on the list somewhere. So, more money for Jeff.

Third, see Serenity. Anyone out there sick of Jeff going on and on about Firefly? Well, tough. Here's something people should know about me: when I get interested in something, I tend to go full bore. For example, seeing the first few episodes of Firefly on Scifi Channel got me jazzed about the franchise, prompting a DVD marathon which only served to stoke the furnace. What also happens, as a corollary of this, is binge researching. Good example: I went to the library today and checked out a lot of books on astronomy, because now, inspired by Firefly, my mind's creative gears are starting to turn and need coals to keep them rotating [A mechanical brain? Like, a steampunk android? --Ed.] I got looks from a lady while standing in line.

Anyway, I digress. I saw the wonderful sneak preview for Serenity during Firefly, showing part of a chase scene involving our heroes [you know what kind --Ed.] and a hungry ship of reavers. Let me tell you folks who missed out, it was gorram awesome!

Fourth, I've either got to find my cell phone or get a new one. I broke it, then I lost it. *sigh*

Joss Whedon Is My Captain... Captain Tight Pants, That Is

2005-08-12T02:13:00.000-07:00

Highlight of my week so far has been sitting down with my good buddy, Rusty, on Tuesday for an all-day Firefly marathon. Joined intermittently by a robotic dog, a unit of quantum information, and one spicy, ricy chicken, thrilling heroics raged across "our" television screen almost from AM to AM.

One thing that I know from watching all of this scifi goodness that I had forgotten was how good the dialogue is. This is something that everyone is commenting on, it seems, but, hey, what the heck, it a bandwagon that's worth jumpin' on. I hope and plan on writing, someday (hopefully fiction), so this is something that I want to do well. I would love to give examples, but that would take me until... well, a long time. Just go here and read scripts. I'll leave the stayin' up late to you.

Another thing is that it demonstrates something that I find fascinating in storytelling of this type. For a story to be interesting, thrilling, and whatnot, you don't necessarilly have to go out of your way to make it some grand and epic adventure. What you can have is a simple collection of "ordinary" people [everyone's normal, everyone's special, really, though --Ed.] born out of their times and scenarios. The world one inhabits is almost always epic, though. Ours is. So, rather than doing like what many accuse George Lucas of doing with his Star Wars Prequel trilogy, and trying to make your core story epic in and of itself. Like Chris Hanel said, it's not something that you can manufacture. It's something that the original Star Wars got right. It's something that Firefly gets better. So, it seems that the ordinary is born from the extraordinary.

In fact, I might be able to learn from this. You see, I love to make up worlds; it's storylines that I have trouble with. Now, stories are all about characters, so, as we see from what we just learned what I need to do is, after creating a world, I need to go looking for the ordinary in all that extraordinary. Yes, it's late and I'm freewriting, so that's about as good as my writing gets at this time of night.
Also, on the topic of my own stories, one thing that I've always been dissapointed with is that I want to write my stories in book form (due in no small part to my love of autonomy) but I draw a large part of my inspiration from television shows and movies. If only there was some kind of intermediate between the two.

*sigh* It's late, and the dancing sugar plums have taken the form of Firefly: Season 2... That's me fantasizing, folks... Who else would have loved to see an episode with Bruce Campbell guest starring? Yeah, I've had him on the brain, too. I'm waiting for the library to loan me his autobiography. And, here, check out his website; he's a cool guy.

Also, on another FIrefly related note, there was one moment where I really connected with Malcolm Reynolds. In the very last scene of Out Of Gas, we flashes back to the first time he ever sees the ship that would become Serenity. Just, the feel of that scene really encompassed how I feel sometimes. I don't want to get a "job" job. I don't want to punch a timeclock. I want to be free, flying where I may. There just seems to be a shortage of terraformed planets and moons for me to set down on. Oh, well...

One last thing... to my future wife... we're naming our son Jayne, okay? he won't get picked on... He'll stand up to the man! Give him what for!

Ooh, and one more last thing: Who else wants to see The Brothers Grimm? One thing that I love is Heath Ledger's look (mostly because I'm all for breaking away from the modern day ideal of men who manage to be loaded with testosterone yet free of body hair). The first person that I thought of when i saw him was Johnny Depp. As in Pirate Johnny, not Wonka Johnny (and, no, I have not seen that movie yet); one thing that amazes me about Mr. Depp is how he looks completely different with facial hair. But, I digress. Because you're all reading my free-writing, you fools!

When I first saw the trailer for this movie I had a less than enthusiastic reaction ("meh" I believe was my wording) but I'm getting a bit more jazzed about it [watched the full trailer while adding the links --Ed.]. Not quite as much as Serenity. Or as King Kong. But it's getting there. It's up there with Lion, Witch, And Wardrobe.

Ah, heck, I'm goin' to bed. Catch y'all later. Freewriting means not having to wrap up any thesis in some sort of conclusion. Happy dance!

Realizations

2005-08-07T13:40:00.000-07:00

Two realizations:

1. I don't know if this would be awesome or not, without seeing the end results for myself, but I'd like to see someone grow an exceedingly bushy mustache and have the hair done dreadlock-style. Instant C'thulhu mask. Just make sure it's long enough. Otherwise, you'll end up looking more like Zoidberg.

2. Now, I know this would be awesome. A DVD projector made to look like an old grammaphone. The image would come out of the horn and you would be able to see the DVD spinning where the record would be. Awesome.

Great Moment In Profundity # 124

2005-08-06T23:28:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone else has ever wondered this but... do elephants get boogers? And if so, what are they like? I envision something like if a slug the size of an anaconda shriveled up.

Our vs Big Damn

2005-08-06T00:55:00.000-07:00

While putting the furniture back into my room, I took an hour long break so that I could watch Firefly. And I've gotta say... that was way more fulfilling than what I got with watching the later repeats of both Stargates and Battlestar Galactica.

Lately Stargate SG-1 has kind of... well, it hasn't exactly been dragging, but there's something missing. I think that it has something to do with the attitiude that the show has been developing over the seasons. When the show first began, Our Heroes would visit a world and react to meeting other races and civilizations (whether technologically advanced or not) with some form of awe. As the story progressed, however, dealing with the Goa'uld, Jaffa, and the Tok'ra became more and more "business as usual." Heck, even the Asgard get this treatment! The only two who don't, seem to be the Ancients (because they don't meddle in the affairs of the non-ascended) and the Furlings (c'mon folks, at least have 'em in the series finale!).

Anyway, I currently watch SG-1 for the characters; I like the characters, despite their one flaw: they don't seem to have any. This is, of course, not necessarily true, but comparable others, these guys are near paragons of virtue. There is, of course, O'Neill's rascism toward Symbiotes, Teal'c's sordid past, and the episode where Daniel took over the Earth (in a dream), but these are like fleas in the ointment.

Battlestar Galactica, however is the exact opposite. The only "good guy" that I can pick out there is Apollo... and maybe Helo, although he's been on the run for a while (I actually expected him to die in Season 1). Hm... both sun deities... coincidence?

But, yeah, my running alternative title for BG is still Alcoholics, Schizophrenics, and Terrorists in Space. You have to use that qualifier. And you have to say it right. "I-i-i-n-n Spa-a-a-a-a-ce..." Try it. C'mon, you know you want to.

This seems to be one thing that I like about Stargate: Atlantis: characters who are better at being flawed [Wait. What? --Ed.] than those in SG-1. But, on the flip-side, they're not the overacheivers we see in BG (not a complaint, per se, it's just that the hyperreality there can be a bit depressing).

Like Rodney McKay, my o-fficially fave-o-right Atlantis character. Why do I say this? Because too many of those characters have the same virtuousness going for (or against) them! *beleaguered sigh* McKay may be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he's a loveable jerk... or, at least, not hateable. Kind of like Winchester on M*A*S*H. The outer shell may be a bit rude and arrogant, but, at the end of the day, he's a good guy, really.

Returning to the original topic of discussion, this is something that I love about Firefly. The characters are flawed, but not to the point of unlovable-ness. While Stargate has virtuous heroes and BG has humanity in all of its "splendor," Firefly gives us a good mix. They're fun AND interesting.

It's kind of like Star Wars vs Star Trek. Now, I like both, but Trek, like Stargate, suffers from the Our Heroes syndrome. Wars had Han Solo. 'Nuff said. Han, many will say, shot first. Malcolm Reynolds kicked a man into a jet engine (while it was in operation, I might add) in response to a death threat. Somehow, I doubt that's how Picard or O'Neill would handle the situation.

I guess that's what separates Our Heroes from those of the Big Damn variety.

Babylon 5 also had good flawed characters (with some very good writing) as did Andromeda, and I heartily suggest y'all take a gander at those DVDs.

Anyway, I also realized something that would nearly surpass all other activities on my mind in awesomeness. Two words (say them with me now): Firefly Fanfilm. Know why? 'Cause... it's awesome; that's why. As an added bonus... I'm sorry, I just paused to watch the Earth explode on TV; where was I?... Oh, yeah, right. You really wouldn't need too many special props for a Firefly film. Wear a holster, curse in Chinese, and you're halfway there.

I just hope their lawyers wouldn't get all uppity about it and would, rather, follow George Lucas' example. Say what you will about the man, but, as others have noted, he lets his fans get away with murder.

So, in the meantime watch this. 'Tis funny.

This popped into my head today

2005-08-05T19:33:00.000-07:00

Moses saw the Hebrews' backs breakin'
He saw the Hebrews' laments
And he saw the Pharoah's priests takin'
Their willpower 'til there was none left
So he said "Pharoah, let go of my people"
But Pharoah refused to yield
Moses took up his staff
And in 5 seconds flat
The river began to congeal

Egypt once was rich
But now it was poor
Robbed of all their crops
And all their first born
Their love for him now
Is sweet as roses
A Hero of Hebrews
The man called Moses

Kudos to whoever knows what song this is a parody of. Well, not a parody, exactly... more of a pastiche.

Jeff's New Girl

2005-08-04T23:41:00.000-07:00

So, I was at the zoo last Saturday, engaged in one of our many bird shows. After our shows end various staff members and volunteers will come out and hold birds (of prey) so that the visitors can come up for a closer look and talk to us bird-handling folk, wise in the ways of the wol. We have three shows a day, and after the second one there's always a bit of a lull. Well, there is after the first one, as well, but that's when we eat lunch. Our brown-bag lunches (the zoo actually has two rather nice restaurants; we eat at the third one).

So, anyway, after our second show, I was enjoying a sit-down backstage and one of the staff asks me if I would like to hold a Harris' Hawk. I, of course, reply favorably and, within a minute, I have the black-and-red beauty on my arm.

Now, I am used to holding owls. Owls are cute and pudgy (seriously, it's all I can do to not "boop" their widdle beaks). But a hawk... it's like going from a kitty cat to a dog. Now, those that know me well will know that I have no special love for dogs (due to a phobia, among other things), but I do not mean that I disliked the hawk; it just has more energy. Whereas an owl might start to drift off after a time on my fist, this bird was eyeing me just about the whole time.

What was especially unnerving (aside from that permanent scowl all hawks have) was that every now and then, she would let out this mean-sounding snarl (it's the same sound they used for the Spitter [Dilophosaurus --Ed.] in Jurassic Park). And, to top this off, they had me sit with her on stage near the edge.

So, not only do I have a wild predator growling at my face from less than a foot away, but I'm terrified that she's going to bate (attempt to fly while still attached to the glove) and throw me off balance and the stage. And those visitors don't look very soft...

So, in betweenst cool surges of adrenaline, I got to admire a wondrous creature. And my supervisor congratulated me on being one of a rare few who didn't have her lunge at my face.

"It's time for karaoke, mon capitan."

2005-08-04T02:08:00.000-07:00

Make it so...

Gee Whillickers! Two posts in one month!

2005-08-03T20:28:00.000-07:00

I don't know why anyone would care, but I just shaved my face with an actual razor... like with water and stuff. Every other time I've shaved has been with an electric and, I must say, this was easier, more comfortable, and left me with a better, closer shave. So go Mach3 Turbo! I don't know why I'm telling you this. It's been a pretty slow news day. Only thing that sucks is that normal razors need replacement blades. Yeah...

Well, back to my overly sedentary lyfestile.

SERENITY NOW!

2005-08-02T15:27:00.000-07:00

I've gotta tell you, after the not-as-good-as-Minority-Report-ness of War of the Worlds, I definitely still have a list of movies that are coming out later this year that I am dying to see.

King Kong: Watching the trailer for this nearly made my keyboard stop working due to a steady stream of drool pouring into it. So much B-movie goodness that it could only be improved by everyone's favorite chainsaw-wielding, zombie-slaying, fellow Oregonian: Bruce Campbell (read: All the honeys want him, all the homeys want to be like him.). Come to think of it, this reminds me of another movie I kind of have a yen for:

Bubba Ho-Tep: Okay, so this one's already out. I'm not made of money. Jeff, yes, money, no. Geriatric Elvis and JFK take on an ancient Egyptian soul-sucker.

Almost finally: Serenity. I had forgotten just how good Firefly was until I started watching Scifi's current Friday night lineup. I need DVD money. Badly. And to all of you who got to see early screenings... well... good for you, I guess. I dunno. I just really don't have the energy to write anything witty anymore. This is why I need a podcast. And a cohost(s). It's lonely over here without a lively dynamic. Yeah, I'm bored.

I guess I could comment on how I feel about Scifi Friday.
Firefly: Oh... My... Goodness... Gracious.
Stargate SG-1: Still good, but not qutie as awestriking anymore.
Stargate Atlantis: Okay, but still kind of... "meh." Rodney McKay is still cool, though.
Battlestar Galactica: Terrorists, Alcoholics, And Schizophrenics In Space continue to please.

Wow... see how devoid of emotion that was? Oh dear...

Oh, yeah, and The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe is also coming out.

On a completely unrelated note: I have an idea for our top government scientists that just might give our troops that "bounce" on terrorists. The recipe is as follows.

Yup, it's a post.

2005-07-24T00:23:00.000-07:00

I'm still here. Yep. Took two courses in mid-June to mid July, both of them accelerated applied-math courses. It didn't go too well. I'll have to retake General Physics and Statistics I. I just thought that a physics lab might have more throwing things around and blowing stuff around... instead, I just got... math. The classes were particularly hard, there was just no time for the information required to absorb into my brain.

But I'm still here. Got my health. The sky is still as blue. Flowers still smell as sweet. Grass is still... needing to be cut, according to my mom. This coming fall term is gong to be great with Creative Fiction Writing, Drawing, and... Statistics again... bleah.

Saw War of the Worlds. And, to be honest, the best review that I've been able to muster is, "I liked Minority Report better."

Went to Silver Falls today. Hiked for four hours straight. What I found really wonderful is how the South Falls are quite reminiscent of Shelob's Lair (see: Cirith Ungol) with it's strangely eroded rocks looking like the burrows of giant, nightmarish creatures. I got a little nervous looking up into a vertical tunnel; I felt like, at any moment, slavering mandibles would close on my neck and drag me up. Awesome place.

Back to looking for my cell phone.

Midichlori-Os: The Chosen Cereal To Bring Balance To Your Breakfast

2005-06-07T01:59:00.000-07:00

Not as original as I thought...

Spring Term is almost over! Speech class ended today! Yay!

Wednesday will see me beginning to return to the zoo. Hopefully I'll be able to keep it up so that I can break free from my lonely, homely hermitage.

Meanwhile in other late-night [early-morning -Ed.] news, I have discovered podcasts. I've only really engaged in two of them so far, but they look to be interesting. I just happened to stumble upon TheForce.net's podcast, and from there I got a hot tip to visit The Secrets, where an author discusses writing stuff. This whole idea, of an internet radio show sounds like it would be loads of fun to do, too.

Meanwhile, I've been thinking about slapping up some additional blogs, where I can actually talk about... actual stuff. I dunno. A book/movie review site would be fun. But again, something like a podcast would also be fun... I only say that because, really, oftentimes I feel like writing down my opinions takes too much time and that I could better present my views in mp3-format. But I'd want at least one other person to join me. And I have no clue who that would be, seeing as there is a significant minority of people around here that I am personally in contact with.

Meanwhile, two fun links:

The Devious Snidely Grievous shows that I was apparently quite correct when I stated that he must have a twirlable mustache behind that mask. The website can be a little slow sometimes, so beware. If it's choppy, then just leave. It will ruin the effect. Too bad it isn't longer, though.

KittenWar: HotOrNot for felines.

Revenge Is Sweet, Indeed

2005-05-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

Well, now that it's all over I feel that I should probably have an opinion on what has transpired. Fortunately, I do! And not only that, the folks over at TheForce.net have kindly written down my review for me. Their sentiments are mine, basically.

Overall (to get it out of the way), Revenge Of The Sith was awesome. Then again that's what I thought the first time I saw Attack Of The Clone and that opinion has changed. But I'm optimistic that my view of Episode III will stick. In fact I'll go so far as to say that this is one of the better movies of the saga.

It would be hard for me to rank the films, but:

Episodes IV (New Hope), V (Empire), and III (Revenge) are awesome.
Episode VI (Jedi) and I (Phantom Menace) are good/okay.
Episode II (Clones) is... watchable.

How darest I put Phantom Menace above Clones? Well... because frankly I think (despite what a lot of Lucas bashers would have you believe) that it works as a movie. As one reviewer put it, it just suffered from an out-of-place, cartoony vibe and some irrelevant plot elements (midichlorians, prophecy of the chosen one). They're not bad elements, just... not touched on at all in the original trilogy. And interestingly, doesn't the chosen one prophecy kind of add to the fantastical side to the story, where midichlorians kind of take away from it? Overall, I rate Ep. I as an okay movie with some sweet moments (podrace, Obi-Wan vs Darth Maul).

Attack of the Clones was really awesome the first time I saw it it, but suffered with each rewatching. It really has to do with Anakin and Padme's romance. It just... doesn't feel right. First off, I just can't feel that it's a healthy romance. It seems to me that she's a woman in a vulnerable situation who grabbed onto a supporting person (probly didn't hurt that he was a hunka-hunka-hotness, either... I guess). Anakin had an infatuation with a fantasy (built from a similar situation, with the feelings of attachment changing in nature as he grew up) that just happened to work out. My guess is that they never really got far enough in life to really let the problems in that relationship make themselves readily apparent (what with them getting married right as interstellar war was breaking out, forcing them to be apart often). But I dunno... I've never taken any sort of education in actual psychology, but this is how I view things right now. In the end, though, I just skipp through all of Anakin's parts. And the movie suffered from anything like a proper lightsaber duel. Well, there was Yoda vs Dooku... but that felt more like.. the dessert duel. Where's the meat-n-spuds?

THE AWESOME
- General Grievous. Cool design, cool voice, sweet name. He was actually the primary reason I wanted to see this film. I saw him when he made his original debut in Clone Wars on Cartoon Network and that had me psyched. Unfortunately this had me anticipating his windmill-lightsaber move rather than be surprised by it. And, I can't remember, did he ever hold a lightsaber with his foot in the film?
- General Grievous' getaway in the beginning. Finally, someone notices that all of those windows are a rather hazardous barrier between a person and the open vacuum of space. - The opening long panning shot and ensuing space battle.
- I saw the Millenium Falcon.
- The newly appointed Lord Vader striding into the Jedi Temple with his army of stormtroopers, er, clonetroopers following in rank.
- The immolation scene, with Obi-Wan screaming at Anakin. At first I thought, "Well... help him!", but I realized why he couldn't.
- The Jedi Purge montage.
- The Blockade Runner from Ep. IV. I was like "Hey, it's the Blockade Runner," when I first saw it. But then, when it cut to the interior, with that luminous white, I was jazzed. We have arrived.
- Padme giving birth and dying while Vader receives his armor. There was just more art in the way this film was handled than in the other two (especially in Ep. II). I like it so much that I'm not even going to make that Mastercard joke I thought of for that scene.
- General Grievous. Again. He is one bad mammajamma.

THE GOOD
- When Obi-Wan and Anakin duel on Mt. Doom, uh, I mean Mustafar, over the One Ring, um, I mean the fate of the galaxy.
- Obi-Wan's noble steed. It's call grew on me.
- "Code 66." Obvious symbolism, but still nice.
- Hayden Christenson's acting was a bit better this time around. I hate to say it, but there's just something about his voice that takes away from his performance.
- I like the simple drumbeat score used in the very beginning.
- Ewan McGregor acting.
- The real feel of being in transition between the prequels and the original trilogy.
- That scene where Padme and Anakin look across the city at each other with the female vocalist singing in the soundtrack.
- Minimal Jar Jar. I, for one, don't hate Mr. Binks. It's just, again, that he's out of place.
- Death Star and Grand Moff Tarkin at the end.
- Bruce Spence's cameo (he was the vampirey guy). I could totally tell it was him. But in a good way.
- I actually kinda liked the Wookiee Tarzan-yell ala Jedi. In fact, I liked it better here than there.
- Padme's funeral.

THE BAD
- Natalie Portman's acting. I blame Lucas.
- Is it just me or did everything happen too fast? Or maybe that has something to do with how the pressure built up on Anakin so that he had to do something.
- I don't know if this is actually bad plot or not, but it just seems to me that Anakin went full-blown evil right away and that he should have had more of a progression. I mean, you have "I shouldn't do this!" *decapitate* "I shouldn't have done that..." in the beginning, but what I'm really thinking of is when Anakin officially turns to the dark side and kills the "younglings." "Hey! Padme got so huggy-lovey-dovey the last time I murdered-not-just-the-men-but-the-women-and-children-too, I wonder if it works twice in a row? Well, heck, then it's 'women and children first,' as they say..." This is why I think there actually needed to be four prequels (or for Ep. I to be handled differently). Anakin just needed more time to turn dark side.

THE UGLY
- Darth Vader's "Nnnoooo-o-o-o-o...!!"
- This never actually happened, but was anyone else fearing in the dark places of their heart that Chewbacca would have a little boy with him going, "Get 'em, Chewie! Get 'em! I'm Han Solo! Get those Separatists! Fire!"

THE DISAPPOINTING
- I was kind of looking forward to a shot of Grievous without his armor on, but ol' Obi-Wan just toasted him. In fact, we needed more Grievous, period.
- I (and everyone else) wanted a longer battle with the Wookies on Kashyyyk, darn it! I mean, that looked really cool, with the fog and the forest and the stuff. I mean, it's that classic disappointment of "what you see in the trailers is basically all you get."
- I kind of wanted to see more of Bail Organa, but what we got was okay.
- The ending shot. I don't want the ol' iris-out to just feature the Lars'! Yeah, Luke was sort of there, but still...
- Yeah, yeah, I wanted Boba Fett to come back and disintegrate Mace Windu, like every other fan it seems like. While some people might think it to be a tad dark for a thirteen year old to off someone in such a manner, it would fall right in line with the mood of this film. And I guess we didn't really have any other important jedi to do the attempted execution of Palpatine with that would have had such an emotional impact. (Hey, I like Samuel L. Jackson as a jedi).
- Grievous really does lose his two extra hands way too early in his Obi-Wan duel.
- John Williams' score. It does work well as a transition between the two trilogies, but still, there's no grand theme, like "Duel of the Fates" for Ep. I or "The Imperial March" for Ep. V. General Grievous had a cool theme, though. A dynamic piece that reinforces that he isn't the cold, brooding type of bad guy, he really is the kind who "revels in villainy." I bet he has a twirl-able mustache behind that mask.
- Yoda: "Guess what, Obi-Wan? Back, your old buddy Qui-Gon in glowy-force-ghost form is! *turns to the audience* Not see him or learn any more of this will you. Heck, still wondering why some of us disappear when we die am I."
- I'll probly never get my Gonk-Droid jedi... Against an Astromech sith? Come on...

Anyway... Two thumbs up. Way up. Feel free to disagree with me on absoultely anything here. Probly lots of stuff I missed, too.

And, hey, wanna know why General Grievous was wheezing when he first showed up? Show you, this cartoon will. I had to mess around a little to get it to work (try hitting the "settings" button). It'll take a little while to watch.

And who else is waiting with many hopes and dreams for that Star Wars TV series that's been talked about?

I Literally Love the Associate of Science Degree

2005-05-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

For today's Appreciations and Resentments:

I Resent the requisites for the Associate of Arts degree.

I Appreciate the requisites for the Associate of Science degree.

Now that I'm changing my transfer degree I have so much more freedom in the classes I take. No more "three class sequences" and "additional distribution courses." Nope just "take three classes here, here, aaaaannd... here. And a couple writing courses." And all this time I thought that the AA was the best for my situation. The advising lady told me that in my situation, I want the AS. She gave me the (ever elusive) AS worksheet. And here I am. I just have to make it official and I'll be good to go.

In other news, I learned in Speech class that all you have to do is ask a group of people "what words or phrases annoy you? in order watching a brimming cup of neurotic bile spill forth.

My Personal Petty Pet Peeve: Misuse of the term "literally." Now, I like hyperbole just fine, but isn't the word "literally" used to signal that you're not being hyperbolic? I dunno. You know what? It probably isn't even in line with any general personal rule I have. Just an isolated annoyance.

Jeff's Summer Plans

2005-05-22T20:58:00.000-07:00

Well, I just registered for the classes that I'm gonna take this summer (*gasp* that's right, boys and girls, when you get old and crusty, like me, you don't necessarily get summer off... [No! It's not true! I can't believe it... I won't believe it! Aaaahhhh...!! --Ed]).

I will be taking two classes: General Physics and Statistics I. So I'll be on campus from 8 - 5, Mon - Thurs. Interestingly, the math comes in the middle of the physics, since the physics is broken up into two sections each day, with a nice space of time between the lecture and the lab; just enough space for a class (and thus...). Lunch shall be had after math.

I shall remain going part-time to PCC, because I want to see if I can renew (or should I say "revitalize") my volunteerships. I plan on trying to get back into the Bird Show at the Oregon Zoo and the PaleoLab at OMSI.

Rest assured, I have a somewhat selfish reason for this: networking. In getting a job, or at least getting into the market, it's who you know. When I went a-job-huntin' I effectively cut myself off from all my contacts. I just realized that today. Another me-centric reason is that I need some sort of social life. It's just... healthier.

My not-so-selfish reason? I miss the people.

So, to recap:
Physics
Statistics
Owls
Bones

Jeff's College Plans

2005-05-14T16:51:00.000-07:00

Back in January, I sent out an email to my friends and family stating the following:

Many a revelation dawned upon me last night ("many," as in two). The primary realization has to do with what I want to do with my life. For many years, growing up, I always maintained that I wanted to be a marine biologist (at least, whenever someone would ask). I think this has a large part to do with the fact that I loved books and science, and so whenever we would visit the coast and go to a gift shop I would get a book on marine biology (as was the main type in those shops). Whatever. I just mainly looked at the pictures, anyway. My response has changed since then to biologist to zoologist to paleontologist (really, just getting more specific each time). Until last night it dawned on me. A voice from the heavens, as it were. "What do you love to do?" To make a long explanation quite frank, I love to create. I love drawing and writing. I delight in the creation of worlds as well as flora, fauna, and folk to inhabit them, to go forth and multiply (well, okay, that's a little melodramatic).

To these ends I've been saying lately that I want a degree in Biology (maybe a Biology/Geology double major) and maybe a Master's in Paleontology and then grumble something about how I really want to write and draw and stuff like that, but I don't need a degree for that, so I'm just keeping my options open. It dawned on me last night that... --I don't necessarily want to sit in a labratory and conduct numerous experiments and write up detailed lab reports... so why am I dooming myself with it by investing years upon years in degrees about that?

But, I'm not sure that I'm ready to give up the sciences altogether, because I see college as kind of a one-shot deal. Once you start down the path it's hard to turn back. So I think I'm going to try for a Biology/English double major. But we'll see.

And what path led me to such a crossroads of life, to such a dawning realization of my life's passion? I watched Star Wars last night (Get it? "Voice from the heavens."). And I remembered how much I love this sort of thing. Absolutely love it. Star Wars, Star Trek, Stargate, Indiana Jones, The Mummy, The Matrix, The Lord of the Rings, Babylon 5, Battlestar Galactice (the new one, the old one just about put me to sleep). And mythology ain't that bad, either. But you wanna know what first got me interested in myths nad legends? Monsters. When I was a kid, it just didn't get any cooler than the Hydra (conspicuously absent in moviedom... Harryhausen did one...). But, then, that's the zoologist in me, becoming enthralled with whole new worlds to explore.

END OF TRANSMISSION

Now, after I've had a couple of months to digest, I am still a bit unsure as to what I want to do. I want to write, but I also love paleontology/zoology. It's really the only "big career" that I can think of that I would be enthusiastic in. The only things that put off that I hear about are the paperwork and the fierce politics. I hate competition. But that's another post for another time.

It's like I said, college is pretty much a one shot deal, one in which you have to keep each step of the way in mind AT each step of the way. If you're going to grad school it's good to know what degree you'll get there and where, so that you can make sure your undergrad studies are up the task.

I'm currently thinking about getting tons of scholarships to fund my college life, so that I won't have to get a job (my parents can pay for either school or living expenses, not both). I'm currently trying to get a Transfer Degree from Portland Community College so I can earn lower division classes at a low, low price. Then I'm most probably going to go over to Portland State University to take my upper division classes to acquire my Bachelors in Biology (either General or Organismal). As to what my minor will be if I get one... probably Geology, Environmental Geology, or Writing. This might see me on my way to grad school (this is where it gets really tentative) to perhaps get a Masters in Paleontology. And, really, the only place that I could find that would offer that is the South Dakota School Of Mines And Technology. Which would put me right in the heart of dinosaur country.

Ultimately, though, the question is, do I really want to go through all the trouble of going to grad school? My answer used to be, "Definitely!" Then it changed to maybe. And now, more and more, the answer seems to be creeping back to yes. Because I see things this way: If I want to do anything "big and great," career-wise, I want it to be in a field that fascinates me. And paleontology (along with the biological side of things) does. So if I want to do that, getting a Masters will make that possible. And if, in the end, I discover that I really just want to do something else, like write, illustrate, etc., then that's fine. That option will still be open and there. Because you don't really need a specific degree for that (not positive, but pretty sure). The education I'd need for that would have been picked up along the way, anyway, I'm sure.

So, to summarize my r-ambling thoughts: Paleontology/zoology/whatever requires a relevant degree (at least a Masters). And that's what I'll (probably) try to get. Many other jobs (the one's I think of as alternatives) often simply require "a degree." And what I would love to write about would most probably be related to my field of interest. So it would still be beneficial to get that same degree.

Heaven help me. I'm probly headed to South Dakota...

But, in the meantime, I have to really get going on an essay I have to write about the Navajo (Dineh). And after that... Big scholarship search.

The busting of my buns begins...

Now.

Vin Diesel Made Me Cry

2005-05-06T21:36:00.000-07:00

I watched The Iron Giant again. And I have to tell you: don't talk to me during the ending of that movie. Because if any movement occurs in my face while watching that, the tears and associated bawling will commence. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, seeing as we are supposedly living in a new age where men can acknowledge their feelings and not be afraid that it's a sign of other, larger problems; like communism.

And the thing that I find interesting is that I wasn't really feeling any emotion in particular. I wasn't particularly sad or anything. I was just so charged full of feelings that I was *this* close to breaking down into a fully fledged WHHAAA!! Luckily I was able to suppress it all into face-contorting grimaces. I barely contained my ocular plumbing, however. And I couldn't talk for a few minutes after it was all over, cuz my voice would have that sobbing croak in it.

The whole movie, though, is awesome. If you haven't seen it, then I wholeheartedly recommend that you do so as soon as possible. It's made by the same people who did The Incredibles; not Pixar, the company, but the actual people-people, as in the director and art department (this really shows in the character design, with the drawing being in the same style as The Incredibles).

And, I have to say (and I don't know if this is a guilty pleasure or not) but I love it, in movies, when a protagonist finally finds themself being pushed too far and snap, unleashing righteous fury upon their enemies. Like when the giant lets the army know just what he was made to do. And you gotta love the looks on their faces when it happens, too. It's like Bill Cosby said, "First you say it, then you do it." I found myself (again, nearly) crying at that point, too, just because... you can feel the giant's pain at that moment (and if you've seen the movie, you know what he's reacting to); and it's some raw pain.

It's sort of like in The Return Of The King, when Eowyn takes out the Witch King... every time I watch that I'm like "YEAH! Take that!... PUNK!"

Aahhh... I'm just a big crybaby at movies anyway. You should see me watch Return Of The King's ending.
Samwise: "I can't carry it for you! But I can carry you!"
Jeff: ".. th-that's so.. so.. WWHHAAA!!"

As a side note, it is kind of neat to watch Iron Giant with the fact that my dad was about the same age as the kid in the movie in the year the movie's set. Cuz... yeah... (doing math)... my dad was 12-13 in 1957. And I'm assuming, from his memories, that it was a roughly similar environment.

Anyway, great movie. Makes you cry. And it also made me learn something. I don't think it's possible for a guy named "Dean" to not be cool. Has anyone out there met an uncool "Dean?" Anyone? Didn't think so.

And by the way, for those wondering about the title, Vin Diesel did the voice of the giant. I was surprised to learn that. Just cuz I'm more used to the man blowin things up real good than evoking emotional responses. And I have to say, he did a fine job in this finely crafted film. He had me at Suuuuperrrmaaannn...

Me Learned Good

2005-04-29T22:47:00.000-07:00

This evening I visited my old elementary school, in honor of its 125th year in operation. A trip down memory lane for a guy who's recently turned twenty years old. Looking in on my old classrooms. Kindygarden through 5th grade, the better part of a decade (that would be the nineties, folks).

They say that the more things change the more they stay the same. I'm not sure if that really applies to this situation, but it's a quote about things changing and staying the same so I thought I might include it. I left that school almost a decade ago. The orientation of the school has changed. The old office is now a kindergarten classroom and the new office is next to the library. The library has actual walls and doors in place of big partitions. The old computer lab, with it's antediluvian Apple comps (you know the kind, with the green-and-black-screens), is now a classroom. Also with walls and a door. In the playground it's pretty much the same, except for they got rid of one plastic tube tunnel. Not a good thing to play in on dry days... Heck, I remember when our jungly-gym was made out of wood, rubber, and stain"less" steel. 'Cuz back in my day you weren't really sure if you had been having fun unless your splintered-and-rust-stained hands were either fried or frozen within seconds of grabbing hold of a metal pipe after playing on a decaying, nailed-together edifice, sending you reeling back onto a giant load of woodchips that get in your shoes and give you that wood-chips-in-your-shoes-feeling. And we liked it!

Heh, "monkey bars." Doesn't that sound like a Jimmy Buffet dive for tots?

The tetherball-less poles still dot the recess yard like neolithic ruins of a far gone age. I use to hang out near one every recess. I would zip my coat up all the way, put it over my head, and tuck the sleeves in so that I could walk around in my own personal encounter-suit.

But as much as everything has changed, there is still one poster on a wall that Has Not Moved In Ten Years. And it's next to a pair of doors that lead to rooms that, to this day, I have no idea what they contain. One says "Telephone" and I think the other says "Production." I mean, I guess the first has a phone. But is that it? Do you just open the door and there's a phone there on the floor? Or on the wall? Or an ottoman? [An accent piece, not a medieval middle-eastern.-- Ed.] Maybe they don't really lead anywhere. Maybe they just had a couple extra doors left over after construction and, for lack of anywhere to put them, just installed them onto the wall and, to hide their uselessness, posted random words beside them. We adults do stuff like that all the time. I also saw a door that had "door" written on it. I need something like that. Cuz you know me. "Wh- where's the door? How do I get out?! I'm trap--oh, wait. "Door"... (traces finger along word, while sounding it out). Never mind! I'm good."

Saw my old principal, Tony Fernandez, and a mother volunteer or two, but not many others (ever notice that the parent volunteers become closer friends than the kids?). So I shall now, primarily to job my own memory, try to list all of my teachers, K - 12 (all women referred to as Ms).

K - Ms. Guinther - I loved making alphabetical handpuppets.
1 - Ms. Robison - I remember not being able to read the clock to know what time it was to leave for my advanced reading class.
2 - Ms. Spoelstra - Learned about Australia. And grammar.
3 - Mr. LeMoine - Aaahh... Mr. LeMoine. Great guy. A great ham radio listening, mountain climbing, Roald Dahl reading guy.
4 - Mr. Lemoine
5 - Ms. Dellerba - I still can't do mental division very well.
6 - Ms. Terrones - I don't have too many fond memories of middle school but Ms. Terrones is definitely one of them. Great lady. And I have never learned more about neurology than I learned in her classes. And we listened to a lot of John Williams and Eric Clapton (as in, we listened to the Jurassic Park theme and the song from Phenomenon, starring John Travolta, over and over).
Ms. Asson - Egypt and math.
7 - Ms. Green
Ms. Gillespie
Mr. Bacon
Ms. Gwaltnie
8 - Ms. Terrones
Mr. Jamsa
Mr. ummm...
Patrizia (never knew last name)
I feel like their should be another person here.
9, 10, 11, 12 - And I knew these people too long to justifiably sum up here, so I won't try.
Ms. Deal
Ms. Ritter
Mr. Winikka
Mr. Morales
Mr. Gardner
Mr. Bauer
Ms. Green
Mr. Ney

Whoah! I got most of them! Neat. And that's not including peripheral instructors...

In conclusion, you know what college needs? More coloring. And naptime. And cubbyholes.

P.S. I forgot to talk about this in my last post. I have a beef with the streets of downtown Portland. I would find myself driving around and around... and around looking for a place to park on the curb. And Finally I would find a place devoid of vehicles with a parking meter. But when I pulled up to park I saw signs saying "No Parking, " "Loading Only," "This Space Reserved." Well, Then What's The Parking Meter There For?! DECORATION?!

(I finally found a spot, only to wander away from it and get lost. But I found it again, later. [Four hours later, after dark, after a friend had to pick him up and shuttle him around to find it. --Ed.])

P.P.S. On an unrelated note, serious stuff about copyright law.

Yeah, yeah, I'm busy, whatever...

2005-04-29T11:54:00.000-07:00

While in my Writing class last night I came to an intriguing revelation. When a fellow student put his feet up on a chair in front of him he told me "Hey, that's what tuition's for, isn't it?" Is that what my hundreds of dollars have been for? Furniture? Then, what, are they all learning their calculus while lounging in vibrating La-Z-Boyz at places like Yale and Harvard (Hah-vurd and Yah-lay)? Or does some of their money go towards maintaining the ivy?... there has to be a guy who does that...

This leads me to the thought that maybe if we eliminated furniture from the classrooms our tuition prices would be drastically reduced. We could just bring a few cushions to sit on. But why stop there? Isn't the whole campus just an elaborate gathering place at that point in time. An expensive gathering place? Why not ditch those, too?

We could meet at the professors' houses. It would be great. You'd really get that greater sense of community, of family within the class and more money would go to the profs themselves. Pay their mortgage. And it would really only backfire with the occasional stalker-teacher. You know the ones. You ask to use their bathroom but you take the second left instead of the second right and you walk into that room with photos all over the wall. "My mistake," you say, backing out. You then find the bathroom... only to discover that it has even more photos.

I sense a revolution in education coming on...

In other news: Isn't McKibben a great name for a scottish terrier?

Interim

2005-04-28T21:37:00.000-07:00

Just in case anyone comes by and wonders why I haven't posted anything in a while:
I'm in college.
Me busy.
When one assignment ends, that means another started an hour ago. And I'm only taking three classes.

I do, however, have a moment to write right now...:)
I went to Wordstock on Saturday, to one of the free-admission bookfairs at the Portland Convention Center. I strolled through the various publisher's booths, relishing the sight of stacks of books, the sound of authors explaining their books, the smell of active bibliophiles... my goodness, the smell...

Among the more interesting sights were writer's clubs, professional masseuses (your guess is as good as mine), and Edgar Allan Poe: The Action Figure. Yeah, you heard me.

I was most interested in Oregon State University Press' booth, as they seemed to have the most interesting books. That where I bought the book I got: Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses. This surprised me a little, as I'm usually a zoology guy. But I was also surprised to find that I think climatology's interesting. I love nature as a whole and in general.

I have a special place in my heart for birds, so I thought that I would be more enamored with the current bestseller The Big Year, only whenever I flip through it it seems to be more about the hobby of birding than about the actual birds. I really noticed this at the bookfair because I listened to part of a talk given by the author, so my attention was drawn to it again. I did love the cover, though. I will say this, though, if entomologists get the wacky outlooks on life, then ornithologists get all the dirty jokes. Aaaannnd I'm gonna leave it at that.

Why are women's breasts likened to owls? Hooters? What?

You know, after being among writers, now I almost feel like I should add a disclaimer about the quality of my writing here. This is me freewriting. I am thinking while I write generally. Just my daily dose of self-consciousness. Heck, it was all I could do to not put in a little footnote defending my interest in a book on moss. But I don't have to. I'm too worried with what people think all the time, anyway. So I'm consciously leaving a defense out.

I'm off to eat a dinner and cuddle a kitty. So, until next time read Coming Around The Bend by Sarah Rabkin and The Problem Of Place In America by Ray Oldenburg (believe me, the second one explains A LOT about how American society got to where it is today). There might be a quiz.

Or I could just continue to ignore everyone and write my papers for college.

Yeah, probably that.

P.S. I find myself with a desire to watch Koyaanisqatsi again. Go figure. Maybe it's jsut so I can sing along. C'mon, you know you want to. "Koyaaaan-nis-Scot-seeeeeeee...."

P.P.S. Go here. Supah kool. Put your address into the search bar, zoom all the way in, and click on "satellite."

"Cthowlhoo S'noran"

2005-04-21T04:24:00.000-07:00

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS BASICALLY ONE, BIG IN-JOKE. IT IS BASED ON A TRUE STORY. BUT, THEN, THAT'S WHAT THEY SAID ABOUT "HIDALGO."

Call Of Cthowlhoo
by I. Lovekraftsingles

I am forced into speech because men of science have refused to follow my advice without knowing why. Doubt of the real facts, as I must reveal them, is inevitable; yet, if I suppressed what will seem extravagant and incredible, there would be nothing left.

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to understand all the contents of a rummage sale. One ambles on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of secondhand trinkets, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. Our mothers have hitherto harmed us little with used trousers from our brothers; but some day the piecing together of the dissociated items horded in a garage sale will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

Theosophists have guessed at the awesome grandeur of the cosmic cycle wherein our world and human race form transient incidents. They have hinted at strange survivals in terms which would freeze the blood if not masked by a bland optimism. But it is not from them that there came the single glimpse of forbidden eons which chills me when I think of it and maddens me when I dream of it. That glimpse, like all dread glimpses of truth, flashed out from an accidental piecing together of separated things - in this case an old crocheted artifact and a mysterious book. I hope that no one else will accomplish this piecing out; certainly, if I live, I shall never knowingly supply a waffle in so hideous a stack.

My knowledge of the thing began in the spring of of 2005, with my taking notice of the fact that my old high school was having a rummage sale. Hoping to find old friends among the pack rats I assumed would be there, I arrived only to find a vast, cyclopean vault nearly untouched by anyone. Nearly, but not completely, for there were other souls present, most notable among them being a good friend of mine, Rustin Grove, Esq. We told each other of the impulse we had felt to come to this forsaken gathering place, causing us to arrive at precisely the same time. As our conversation continued, we found out that we had independently watched the same movies ("Independence Day") on approximately the same nights and had contemplated the same words at the same time ("enmity"). We laughed, in order to suppress the discomfort we felt.

Much of the material we plowed through that day was worthless, though quite recognizable. But, there was one item which I found exceedingly puzzling, and which I felt much averse to showing to other eyes. What could be the meaning of it? White and fluffy, crocheted with care, it was. It appeared to be attempting to be some form of beast; though my memory, despite much the papers and collections in my computer, failed in any way to identify this particular species, or even hint at its remotest affiliations. It seemed to be a sort of monster, or symbol representing a monster, of a form which only a diseased fancy could conceive. If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus and an owl, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. Pulpy tentacles supported a grotesque and feathery body with rudimentary wings; but it was the general outline of the whole which made it most shockingly frightful.

The writing accompanying this oddity made a mild pretense at literary style, titled "There's An Owl In The Shower." Rustin shuddered and turned back to the artifact. He mumbled something about "Cthowlhoo" and we both moved on to investigate a table of cookies and pudding (vast, cyclopean vaults may be filled with the madness of eons, but at least they're catered).

That night, in my bed, I tossed and turned feverishly, unable to fall asleep, the dread artifact waiting behind my eyelids. It was only when my body became so exhausted that it fell ungracefully into slumber that I learned the truth.

In our distant, antediluvian past there came a being from across the stars, a horrible creature that many men worshipped as a god. A bizarre combination of owl and cephalopod, this predatory nocturne preyed on our ancestors, filling them with fear. They called it Cthowlhoo, though this is an attempt by human speakers to pronounce a name that is actually in a language alien to them. Kh*gurgle*l'owl*drool*hoo*clicking sounds* may be more accurate.

I realize now the meaning behind stories I wrote for high school language arts classes. The various elements seeming to be completely nonsensical now blend together to make perfect sense.
In ages past, Cthowlhoo, The Hooting Horror, and his children came to Earth and tried to rule mankind. He slipped in his shower the following Thursday, but his spawn still ran rampant over the earth. While he slept, humanity hunted his kind who, leaderless, wandered aimlessly. They became a staple food source of humans, especially during the ice age, which is when the Topaz Mastodon was shaped, in order to channel their energies into human hosts, who became werekeets, terrible fusions of man and bird. The galaxy ninjas, hunting interstellar bad guys in their offtime, had learned of it and decided to put a stop to it. They failed, but the Mastodon was still lost, due to some complex, contrived reason. The aftermath gave birth to Leslie, The Lord Of The Fries (a talking chicken nugget, for those not "in the know"), who first appeared in Antarctica, driving the local penguins insane. An explosion was reported in the vicinty of those events. Who knows what ancient being those tremors may have awakened? *hint-hint-wink-wink-nudge-nudge*

The Pantheon: To attempt to understand them is to flirt with insanity.
- Cthowlhoo: The Hooting Horror, one of the Owl Ones.
- Leslie: The Lord Of The Fries, a talking chicken nugget.
- Gnarly Ho-Tep: The Surfing Chaos, The Well-Tanned Dude, Bubba's cousin.
- Azathong: The Madness From The Vaults, The Blind Idiot Swimsuit.
- Slashdotterath: The Llama Of The Web With A Thousand Posts, worshipped extensively by nerdic cults.
- Yor-Sorong: The Dweller On The Messageboard, eternally contrary.

Wonders To Behold

2005-04-10T15:07:00.000-07:00

It's official: I have seen one of the coolest things that I'll ever see.

I was up last night (as I am basically every night) and I had the television on. I had it set on the Discovery Channel, because they were going to air a documentary on life in the deep sea. Now, I was pretty much just planning on watching for whatever extra tidbit that I didn't know that I found interesting, because I wasn't really expecting too much in terms of vastly original information in a documentary meant for the lay public. I was kind of right, but also kind of wrong.

I found myself mesmerized by the images that danced across the screen. By, for example, the hatchetfish that have biolumiscent bellies that match the light coming from above. This, coupled with their heavily silvered bodies which reflects the light around them just right so that they're basically invisible. Except for this one fish with Giant eyes (that gave it an absurdly cute look) that can tell the difference between sun-produced and biologically-manufactured light. Other fascinations included:

Animals that were almost completely transparent.

An octopus that (I know this is really weird, but... it was) reminded me a little of floating fetus.

An underwater lake. Yes, you heard me. Thing is, the lake wasn't made of water, but of heavier fluids (I think they had some sort of brine in them). And all around it were creatures feeding off of it.

Animals that were either dull black or bright red in order to hide in the inky blackness. You see, the way it works is that red wavelengths of light are on the lower end of the spectrum and don't make it that far down. So that if you want to hide in the dark and want to be some actual color (I guess), red is the way to go. That's why if you want a lit display that won't screw up your night-vision it's best to have a red one. Ever wonder why rear lights on automobiles are red? And, come on, you've looked at traffic lights. Which color does your eye strain the most under. I don't know about you, but my eyes don't really like looking at that bright green (nearing the other end of the visual spectrum) that much.

Anyway, since there's no red light from the sun that makes it that far down, there's also a fish that can project bioluminescent red spotlights from its face in order to see its red prey. At which point I exclaimed, in a really poor Brian Fellows voice, "That's Crazy!"

There were also these little bugs (I think they were a kind of copepod) that had a sort of intermittent full-body bioluminescence (getting tired of that word yet?). One moment, its' just a plain ol' bug, the next it's suddenly engulfed in light.

And the final coop duh grase, one of the coolest things ever: You've heard of how, when cephalopods (squids and octopuses) get frightened they can fire off squirts of ink to confuse predators. Well, they got nothin' on this one kind of copepod that I saw. It squirts a fluid from its body that in... one... two... three... Flashes with light! A delayed reaction burst of light. And I was all like, "Whoah!"

You know, there are other things in nature that have been so cool that I could spend long periods of time, if I had had them, gazing and admiring and wondering. Like, for example, a fairy village I found near the Siletz River, I think. You see, what had happened was that in the forest surrounding the banks of the river the rain had left moisture on the leaves of the trees, as it tends to do. But, couple that with the somewhat sandy composition of the soil and the impact of the drops, in this one place, this one, tiny, little clearing by the path, formed a cluster of little cones. A tiny camp of wee-folk teepees. I took pictures, but they didn't turn out that good.

When I volunteered at OMSI (and I'm still technically on their list, even though I haven't been in for over a year...) I went on a geology trip to the John Day region. Beautiful area. A great place to go to show people that not all Oregon is rain, slugs, and coffee imported from Seattle. Most of it is actually desert, housing the northwestern boundary of the Great Basin. But what's really awesome in the John Day region is Blue Basin. Because it's blue. I took pictures there and, while they turned out fine, just don't show the sheer, chalky blueness that surrounds you there. They got the sheer and chalky parts down, but the way my camera's UV filter works, the sky looks practically deep purple / blue-black. But it's amazing. A little miniature canyon with teal walls surrounding you. There are intermittent mud puddles with gray mud and opaque, turquoise water.

Another thing that comes to mind is when I visited the Oregon Coast Aquarium once, as I had many times and they had a cuttlefish on exhibit. Now, this is really an animal that a person has to see in person. Because when I got real close so that it's little oval body filled my eye, it's skin danced with color. The little chromatophores in its skin were constantly changing by minor amounts so that its hide was covered in a perpetual, mesmerizing sparkle. And then it changed itself into a bumpy rock... Hey isn't that a musical genre? Bumpy Rock?

The last thing which I'll mention right now is when I was at Lincoln City, I believe. I was wandering on the beach with my dad and we were poking around the large boulders there. A climbed one and, while I was enjoying the view and reclining in a little spot I found, on this bare rock, there came a wasp. I didn't think much of it, at first. But, for whatever reason, I took a closer look. And it was beautiful. It's body shone with a bluish-green metallic luster, it's antennae looked like strips of silk... I was really quite taken with it. Maybe it had something to do with how unexpected it was. Or how you usually see things like this in books and magazines, in photos taken by actual photographers, but you'll likely never see something truly like it in your life. Oh, you'll see animals in zoos. You'll see exhibits and pictures and videos. National Geographic will take you there and back again and Mr. Attenborough will tell you all about it. But here it was, right before me. It had crawled out of a tiny, inconspicuous crevice in the rock. It was there for a few moments before retreating back in.

I have seen these things. You cannot capture them with any paint devisable.

They are wonders to behold.

2005-04-08T18:13:00.000-07:00

Lagomorphic cocoforme missing, ears found at grisly scene, college student declined interview.

All Of My Exes Live On The Ross Ice Shelf

2005-04-08T11:57:00.000-07:00

NOTE TO SELF: ALWAYS PREWRITE POST BEFORE COPYING IT TO BLOGGER! Having to rewrite a half-hour's worth of freewriting is not too pleasant.

This week has reminded me of something about myself. I am a procrastinator. You know how your teachers always told you not to put off doing your assignments until the last few days? I need to work on the last twenty-four hours. Not to say that that strategy's never worked out for me... but still... not the way to go. I tried to cram all of my first Writing assignments into too small a space of time and almsot got it all done. I just missed three little journal writes.

I also realized who my Writing professor, Michael Cowger, reminds me of. He's sort of a cross between Mike Bauer and Dr. Daniel Jackson.

Anybody out there remember The Lord Of The Fries? Anybody? Anyone?

*crickets stare*

I just remembered from a recent link I visited (provided below) of how, prior to choosing owls as my mascots, I employed penguins in the position. Sort of as temps until I could get a permanent member lined up. I am quite satisfied with the change as I think penguins are just a tad too popular with the online crowd, right now. They seem to be right up there with monkeys and llamas. And, personally, I've never been too much of a monkey fan. Marmosets, sure. Orangutans, maybe. And George, he's cool. But on the whole...I'll pass.

But with owls, I fell in love with them the moment I met a few in person: Hooter, a Great Horned, and Siskiyou, a Spotted. It probably has something to do with my being a cat lover, and how owls are basically avian cats, it seems. Especially ol' Sissy-poo. She wuvved her skritches. [Note: Never Ever pet birds of prey unless assured by professionals that it's okay. It usually isn't.--Ed.]

And she was the only owl I ever heard of to have boobs.

This is not to say that the little Antactic gentlemen won't always share a special place in my heart. They will. I think the primary reason for my liking them is that they're very benign looking creatures. They're faces betray little emotion. They just... are. Owls tend to emote more.

I just have to remember that in real life, penguins don't really wear bowties and/or monocles. What does that have to do with anything? Nothing. But it doesn't make it less true.

The link that reminded me: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/penguincalls2

The link that preceded it: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/penguincalls.php

Speaking of tiny plaid ninjas: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/plaid.php

2005-04-06T21:31:00.000-07:00

This is the profile pic I'm gonna be using. Ain't I pretty?

While I'm Thinking About Jurassic Park And Sophie's World...

2005-04-06T15:27:00.000-07:00

"Try to imagine yourself in high school. You get your first look at this "six foot turkey" as you enter a classroom. He moves like a bird, lightly, bobbing his head. And you keep still because you think that maybe his visual acuity is based on movement, like a math teacher: he'll lose you if you don't move. But no, not the social studies teacher. You stare at him... and he just stares right back. And that's when the attack comes. Not from the front, but from the side, from the two students who know what they're talking about you didn't even know were there. Because social studies teachers are pack hunters, you see; they use coordinated attack patterns and they are out in force today. And he slashes at you with this... a six-inch book, like a textbook, but really a novel. He doesn't bother to bite your jugular like a lion, say... no no. He slashes at you here... or here... or maybe across your term paper, spilling whatever point you thought you had. The point is... you are alive when they start to eat you. So you know... try to show a little respect."

SprAcorn: Acorn In A Can

2005-04-06T15:02:00.000-07:00

Native American History class is turning out to be as interesting as I hoped it would be. Last session we learned how the various European powers' approaches to colonizing the new world varied. It can all be summed up like so: French and Dutch Nice, Spanish and English Mean.

The French were making friends, alliances, and trading partners [aka economic exploitation without too many mass killings - Ed.] while the Spanish were debating whether or not the Native Americans were actually human or not. One notable example of the differences is when a french ship was sailing by somewhere some natives wanted to trade and be friends and so sent their boats out to greet them. A little leery of the strangers in their superior numbers (Great Line: "we had but one onely boat"), the French first fired a couple shots over the natives heads (causing them only to pause, not knowing what the loud noise was) and then hurled a few harpoons at them (harpoons being a more obvious weapon; probably, like, nuclear spears to the natives). They ironed out the misunderstanding and became friends later, but there was one thing that we couldn't help but notice: The French fired over the natives' heads. I'm thinking the Spanish might have made a couple of "examples," instead.

The current theory was that maybe the French were a little sympathetic to people that get taken over...

We also read Powhatan's "Let's All Get Along (Please Don't Kill Us)" speech to John Smith, from which we gleaned that acorns and roots were apparently Native American junk food ("such trash").

One thing that I've forgotten is how I'm a doodler. I remembered in Fundamentals of Speech, when I was supposed to hand a review of a classmate's speech to him. As a bonus, he also got a duck wearing a turban. Man, I remember drawing a lot in high school. The Nume Raider (paired, of course, with The Denominator). The Philosoraptor (which, I think was some kind of revenge on Mike for making us read Sophie's World...). Of course, I got school credit for doodling in class in the all-wonderful "Independent Studies." I don't remember sitting next to too many girls in high school, you see. Of course, when I went to Merlo there was still a high male predominance. Females began to appear about the time I was leaving. Probably something to do with frog DNA.

I still have some Writing homework to do. What was interesting was that we had to take a test in that class on what kind of learner we are. I'm pretty evenly visual and auditory (20 out of 30), but I'm primarily kinesthetic (26 out of 30). This is the smallest group, being people who learn with motion, from doing. This is also where my incessant pacing comes from (which drives my mom nuts).

I'm starving...

Aluminum Flavored Yogurt

2005-04-06T00:35:00.000-07:00

In place of my mass emails I introduce: a blog. Feel free to respond... though you'd have to have blogger accounts... or you can just email me. And for my first post I shall talk about how happy I am that I have an infected sweat gland. Because that's all I have. It's not lymphoma. Because that's what I was spending my weekend stressing out over. Except now I have to take antibiotics and I have one of the strongest gag reflexes the planet's ever seen. I suppose I could break the capsuls open and poor the powder out into food, but the last time I did that I ended up with copper flavored yogurt. Or was it aluminum? Either way it was vile stuff.

And, by the way, to all the people using LiveJournal, yes there may be more people there but everything here's free and that's really the bottom line with me.