Category: Other

Today, I want to talk about impressions. Not the imitation sort, but the “this is what I think about this” type of impressions. What people think about us plays a huge part in our lives, primarily what bad they may think if you do something wrong. We spend so much time troubling ourselves over little imperfections that they might notice that we completely overlook all of our winning traits, which are, ironically, usually what they do notice. There’s an amazing balance to it — no, Thanos, not that type of balance, what are you doing here? Go bother some other planet. — Anyhow, it seems poetic that in ourselves we see the bad, the flaws and mistakes, but in us others see all the good that we cannot.

This was something I first really encountered four(ish) years ago, when my dad fished up a blog post from a friend of mine about the day we met. I hadn’t thought much of it, but she must have, because it warranted what transfers to Google Docs as a solid three and a half pages. There was something extraordinarily enticing about reading someone’s honest opinion of me.

On that note, I’d like to call out Cheshire Moon and thank them for Apple, a personalized version of their song Critters. It, just like that blog post, was a moving reminder of the good that others see, even when I can’t, and there is a uniqueness to the inspiration I get from both of them, not as a call to be more, but as a reminder of what I already am, and to not lose sight of that in the midst of the bad.

Well, it’s that time of year again. The season of giving and peace and reflecting on the past year and planning for the next. This week I have no long, rambling discussion for you, just a link to a thematically appropriate video I enjoy. I’ve spoken about Peter Hollens before, and the fact that he’s namely a cover artist, but a couple years ago he wrote a song called the December Song, which talks about the joy and peace of Christmas, and, more importantly, asks why it can’t be like that all the time. It’s a powerful piece that I hope you’ll enjoy.

Happy holidays to you all!

Well, last week I promised examples of the short story cliffhanger writing style, and here they are. These are my two best (of like four). First, the very first of these I wrote for that prompt, “Stone”:

“Mom!” I complained as she turned Leroy to a useless pile of rocks. “He was gonna keep our secret! I made him promise!”

“Honestly Dear, how many times have I told you not to bring people here?”

“A….” I stopped.

“Well? I’m waiting!”

“A….” I started again, then shook my head and walked away. Behind me I heard her take a sledgehammer to Leroy’s statue. That’s my mother. Always paranoid. That’s because people are afraid of her ability to turn them to stone. Have you guessed who she is? That’s right, my mother is none other than Medusa. I know what you’re thinking: If she’s your mom, than who’s your dad? His name is Perseus.

The second one was on the prompt “Breathing,” which I followed much more loosely. (“Stone” was just too easy to work with, “Breathing” is a harder one to interest a tween, as I was when I wrote these.)

I ran fast to where Kirby lay. My heart was pounding in my ears, desperate to find comfort. Please, I thought, let him not be dead. I quickly put my ear to his chest. Yes, I thought, relieved. He’s still breathing. I sat next to him for a moment, then realized he was still dying and picked him up. I grunted, then started walking, wobbly under his weight. I’m not sure what enabled me to carry my brother that day, but it saved his life. I got him to my parents and they called an ambulance. I’m the only one that knows what almost killed him, and I’ll never tell.

Ironically, this post on prompted stories was prompted by a discussion with a friend of mine. See, I like to write long tales, with each character’s story drawn out in my head to get the depths of the motivations and the personality. It helps me allow my characters to jump out at me, noting that most of these never get written, so it’s really a matter of thoughts. By having those characters, certain events and emotions trigger a familiarity reaction that draws me back to them, and so their story continues or is rewritten as I need it to be to express the given moment. From this writing perspective, it means that I like reading or watching series where the characters have time to develop and really connect to the audience.

My friend had the flip perspective: short stories. As she explained, there was something undeniably ingenious about the way they left you hanging at the end, wondering how they got there and what happened next. Like the cliffhanger of a chapter or the hook before the title credits roll, except that in these stories, you don’t get an answer. It’s open for your interpretation and speculation. My initial reaction was to consider the writing style I spoke of above: the drawn out works of everything, so that no question remains unanswered. Of course I didn’t write these shorter stories!

But then I looked back at some of my old Google Docs. The one that caught my eye was titled “Story Prompts.” And this was when I remembered; I did use that writing style. I had started with some writing contest (long lost in the depths of my computer) that I wasn’t allowed to enter in because I was too young. It had a ridiculously small word limit and a one word prompt. I used their prompt, “Stone,” and, hungry for more, pulled up a word generator. The result were prompted mini stories, that, on my rereading, seem more like story prompts themselves, or maybe teasers for something longer.

Two of my own examples next week!

My grandfather passed away last weekend, so we flew down to Guatemala for the funeral service. As we drove into Antigua, we could see one of the nearby volcanoes, Fuego, sending off red puffs of smoke and lava. From that image I wrote this poem (noting that I don’t usually write poetry, it isn’t my style) for Grandad:

Fuego’s Lament
The volcano spewed fire and ash into the sky,
And from the town below rang a cry,
For he was gone.

Fuego mourned his dear old friend,
Shooting smoke out of his head,
For he was gone.

The mountain climber’s days at end,
His house filled with grieving friends,
For he was gone.

His family comforted by the neighbors,
Friends in all who once were strangers,
For he was gone.

Wonderful grandfather, husband and son,
Father, neighbor, and librarian,
Before he was gone.

The path he walked was not one of glory,
And yet in many he would live on in memory,
When he was gone.

Fire’s tears burned the sky,
As around the world rose up a cry,
Antigua sang its last goodbye,
For he was gone.

Keeping in theme with last week’s post about simple things that make life more enjoyable, I want to talk about one of the most multi-purpose things of all: snow.

I mean, think about it. You can make shapes out of it, make shapes in it, throw it, hide behind it… Heck, you can even eat it. I used to. Ugh, now I’m craving snow. Look what you’ve done, blog post. Look what you’ve done.

But there are lots of things that you don’t really think about that you can do with snow. Point in case: sculpture. People make snowmen all the time, sure, and forts too, but that’s it. Really? You have nature’s Play-Doh and all you’ve made out of it are a pile of balls with a carrot in it and a slapped together wall from the snow you shoveled off your driveway? The way we made forts, I’m not sure it even counts as sculpture. We literally just hid behind the piles we had removed from blocking in the cars. Nah. Make something interesting! Little snow bunnies, birds, bananas… Whatever you want, but make something unique!

Going back to forts… there’s an alternative for that too. My cousins and I were too lazy to build out own forts, so we just used the climbing tower in the backyard instead. That isn’t to say that we didn’t incorporate snow… we did. We just had a sturdier base. We fortified the tower with packed snow between the wooden boards in the walls to block incoming snowballs, between the footholds in the climbing wall to make it unpassable, and rubbed melting fistfuls of the stuff on the monkey bars and slides (all of us were quite good at climbing slides, so this was indeed a necessary step in fort defense).

Even unused, snow, like much else in nature, is an amazing gift if only for beauty. When undisturbed upon tree branches and fields, it is a truly marvelous sight. It is more than nature’s toybox. It is nature’s way of decorating for the holidays. And to those people too far south for snow: I’m sorry. You’re missing out. There’s not much to say past that.

I spend a lot of time talking about YouTube and computer games or board and card games with complicated mechanics. Yet I frequently overlook some of the simple things that can be just as entertaining.

Slinkys, for instance. It’s just a boring metal coil, right? Nope. This isn’t a commercial, so I’m not going to delve into all of the cool things that this metal coil can do, because I don’t get paid to do that. I’m just pointing out that there are plenty of things you can do with a Slinky when you’re bored that are just as fun as other games. People obsess over bottle-flipping. You can Slinky-flip too! Or just swing it around like a lasso, or bounce it on the floor, or… Never mind. Not a commercial, not a commercial….

Some people use stress balls, but I’ve always found those to lack entertainment value and engagement. I prefer Chinese medicine balls (Wikepedia says that they’re also called Baoding balls), which are a pair of (usually) metal balls that you rotate in one hand. That alone opens up several possibilities. Clockwise, counter-clockwise, over each other (not how they were meant to be used, but sometimes when I’m bored I rotate them vertically instead)… but then when you’re a master with your dominant hand, you can switch sides!

The last seemingly simple entertainment form that I’m going to mention today are fidget spinners. Yes, that fad has come and gone. They always do. But I feel that they were overlooked as an actual fun thing to do, and that people just got them to be “cool” and “with it.” I generally avoid joining fads like that, so, I’ll admit, I was a bit hesitant about getting one, but I’m glad that I did. Instead of rotational direction, like with Baoding balls, I generally switch which finger I’m flicking the spinner with.

It should be noted that I use all three of these mostly as an absent-minded form of entertainment, particularly when I’m doing something else (namely watching YouTube or TV). Not only are they fun, but they help me focus by giving me something to do with my hands while I’m watching (I’m one of those people who has trouble sitting still and paying attention, even when whatever it is that I’m watching is fun or interesting).

This week, I have less of a post than a rant and a poll, as a follow-up to my previous Harry Potter related posts. I, myself, am a Slytherin. Apparently, this surprises people, as I have been told time and time again that they believe I belong in Ravenclaw. But Pottermore and my own judgement have spoken.

I feel, as a Slytherin, that I must add a note to the Houses discussion: being in Slytherin does not make us inherently evil. It means that our highlighting traits are ambition, leadership, resourcefulness and cunning. I’m not so sure about cunning in my case, or leadership, but I am most definitely ambitious, and I believe assorted incidents can also highlight a certain level of resourcefulness. You will note, however, that these traits do not include “being bad.” I have found it rather concerning how many times I have had to point out that just because most bad wizards (Ron said all, but that isn’t true, as multiple examples of others come up throughout the series) came from Slytherin doesn’t mean that all wizards in Slytherin are bad. But many bad people are ambitious, and so they end up in Slytherin with the rest of us.

While I am a Slytherin, I also carry somewhat prominent Ravenclaw traits (learning and creativity, namely). Because of this, I have determined myself to be a Slytherclaw. Mostly Slytherin, somewhat Ravenclaw, totally not evil.

Noting the hybrid Houses (putting the most prominent House in front), but also that you don’t have to identify as a hybrid, which House do you best fit in? Which traits from that House do or don’t apply to you? I look forward to hearing. Or, well, reading.

No, I have nothing against navigational compasses. They’re just fine. What I do have an issue with are geometric compasses. That’s right, the ones that you use to make the circles but sticking the point in the paper and swing the pencil part around that point. But what have I got against them?

To be clear, I have no issue with their use to draw circles. That makes sense. Actually, it’s the only way I know of to draw a decent circle (eyeballing it doesn’t end well for me). It’s the other geometric stuff it’s used for that irks me.

We’ve been told that, back in the day, mathematicians used only a compass and a straightedge to draw their shapes. That’s all well and good, but why do we still have to draw squares, hexagons and triangles from this object that only draws circles? It takes several, complicated steps and is quite frankly obsolete in the face of these things called rulers and protractors that allow us to actually measure our angles and lines in a timely fashion.

“Well, that’s just how they used to do it back in the day.” This I understand, and I’m fine with being taught how they did their math. I just don’t want to be expected to do it that way when there are other, more efficient methods. I am, as well as a writer, an inventor, and our goal is frequently to reach the intended goal with as little work as possible.

What do you think? Is there some benefit to the compass method that I’ve overlooked? Or do you concur with my frustration?

My grandmother was going through some poetry books a while back and found two poems that I thought were hilarious. I hope you like them too!

Ladies and Germs,

I come before you to stand behind you

To tell you something I know nothing about.

Admission free; pay at the door;

Pull up a chair; sit on the floor.

Refreshments will be served in empty glasses.

This meeting will come to disorder.

We will discuss something we know nothing about

At the four corners of the round table.

And the second one:

One dark day in the middle of the night,

Two dead boys got up to fight.

Back to back, they faced each other,

Drew their swords and shot each other.

A deaf policeman heard the noise,

Stood up and shot those two dead boys.

If you doubt this story’s true,

Ask the blind man. He saw it, too.

What do you think? Got anymore wacky poems? I’d love to hear them!