Jo Walton has created a new holiday, International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day, as a way of turning crass idiocy on its head. Today is a day to post professional quality work online in celebration of our "technopeasanthood."
What this means in practical terms is an opportunity to check out lots of artists' work for free before buying a book that may or may not be a good match for your tastes. Go. Read. Revel.
In honor of the day, I'm posting my story, "The End of Eternity," on my web site. I hope you enjoy it.
April 22, 2007
April 18, 2007
Perfectly Happy
I've written here about a movie and music experiences that have disappointed me. I'll do it again, because it helps me understand where the artist/audience contract broke down. I don't want to repeat the mistakes myself. However, when something makes me really happy, I want to share that, too.
I've picked up two albums in the last couple of months that just keep making me happier. (Really, I downloaded them off iTunes, but at least I didn't call them records.) The first is The Killers' Sam's Town, which I wasn't too sure about the first time I heard it. It isn't quite like anything else I've heard. Every time I think I know where it's going, it doesn't. But the more I listen to it and take it on it's own terms, the more I love it, because that unexpected choice is always right. I liked their first big album, but this blows that out of the water. If you like your music instantly accessible, this isn't for you. If you like things a bit more complicated, give it a try--or two or three.
My most recent acquisition is Cat Empire's Two Shoes. It's a...uh...well, it.... Okay, look; it combines ska, hip hop, Cuban funk, and Aussie punk attitude--generally all in the same song. I was listening this morning on the way to work, and I just grinned like an idiot. The scratching and the trumpet combined soooo beautifully. It was all wrong and completely right. This one you'll have to listen to on your own to decide whether you'll love it or be driven insane by it. But by all means, listen.
If you like it, I recommend Madness's "Swan Lake," Royal Crown Revue's "Barflys on the Beach," and the Insane Clown Posse cover of "Let's Go All the Way." No, really. And if you think all this means I like weird music...oh, yeah.
I've picked up two albums in the last couple of months that just keep making me happier. (Really, I downloaded them off iTunes, but at least I didn't call them records.) The first is The Killers' Sam's Town, which I wasn't too sure about the first time I heard it. It isn't quite like anything else I've heard. Every time I think I know where it's going, it doesn't. But the more I listen to it and take it on it's own terms, the more I love it, because that unexpected choice is always right. I liked their first big album, but this blows that out of the water. If you like your music instantly accessible, this isn't for you. If you like things a bit more complicated, give it a try--or two or three.
My most recent acquisition is Cat Empire's Two Shoes. It's a...uh...well, it.... Okay, look; it combines ska, hip hop, Cuban funk, and Aussie punk attitude--generally all in the same song. I was listening this morning on the way to work, and I just grinned like an idiot. The scratching and the trumpet combined soooo beautifully. It was all wrong and completely right. This one you'll have to listen to on your own to decide whether you'll love it or be driven insane by it. But by all means, listen.
If you like it, I recommend Madness's "Swan Lake," Royal Crown Revue's "Barflys on the Beach," and the Insane Clown Posse cover of "Let's Go All the Way." No, really. And if you think all this means I like weird music...oh, yeah.
Labels:
reviews
April 13, 2007
The Egg, of Course
There are things we say without thinking about or knowing what they mean. "I could care less." (Really. Then why do you sound so scornful?) "Penultimate." (You know a prefix changes the meaning of a word, right?)
"Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" Grr.
This one's bugged me for years. I grew up in the midst of dinosaur mania. I've seen the fossilized eggs. I knew what birds descended from. The second I stopped to think about it, I knew which came first. Whatever the first chicken's parents were, they hatched from and laid eggs. That chicken had to wait in line.
It all seemed so transparent that anytime I heard somebody ask the well-worn question, I had to check whether I was dealing with a closet creationist.
Turns out I was wrong. Sort of. We didn't know until recently. So, to everyone I've looked at funny over the years, I'm sorry. I was making assumptions I had no right to make. Please accept my humble apology.
But can we stop saying it now?
"Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" Grr.
This one's bugged me for years. I grew up in the midst of dinosaur mania. I've seen the fossilized eggs. I knew what birds descended from. The second I stopped to think about it, I knew which came first. Whatever the first chicken's parents were, they hatched from and laid eggs. That chicken had to wait in line.
It all seemed so transparent that anytime I heard somebody ask the well-worn question, I had to check whether I was dealing with a closet creationist.
Turns out I was wrong. Sort of. We didn't know until recently. So, to everyone I've looked at funny over the years, I'm sorry. I was making assumptions I had no right to make. Please accept my humble apology.
But can we stop saying it now?
Labels:
Skepticism
April 04, 2007
Generic Books
sdn, over on her lj, asks the following:
I think the phenomenon in question has more to do with the good books they're ripping off than it does with the bad books. Really good books are often good because they make us uncomfortable, challenge us while offering us enough in the way of story and language to keep us moving through our discomfort. They stick with us because they changed us. Sometimes I'm too tired to put myself through that again.
A generic version of the same book repackages the story without the discomfort. Those who read the original can read the weak carbon and be reminded of their experience with a good book without undergoing the trauma. And since the new book is generic, it can have that kind of resonance for several good books--and lots of readers. Hence the sales. Hence the deals.
It doesn't explain the reviews, but I've never claimed those were explicable.
my inflammatory comment of the day: why do books that are clearly generic ripoffs of other books (a) get ridiculous deals, (b) sell in large quantities to actual, presumably intelligent readers, and (c) get good reviews from established sources? is everyone high? this applies to all age ranges/categories/genres of books, by the way, not just books in my particular world(s).Since LiveJournal hates me, I'll answer here.
I think the phenomenon in question has more to do with the good books they're ripping off than it does with the bad books. Really good books are often good because they make us uncomfortable, challenge us while offering us enough in the way of story and language to keep us moving through our discomfort. They stick with us because they changed us. Sometimes I'm too tired to put myself through that again.
A generic version of the same book repackages the story without the discomfort. Those who read the original can read the weak carbon and be reminded of their experience with a good book without undergoing the trauma. And since the new book is generic, it can have that kind of resonance for several good books--and lots of readers. Hence the sales. Hence the deals.
It doesn't explain the reviews, but I've never claimed those were explicable.
Labels:
Art
April 02, 2007
The Boys in the Band
I went to see a bunch of very good musicians on Saturday. It's a band I've liked for a long time, playing material I love, and I was deeply disappointed.
Okay, so some of it may have been due to the car breaking down in the middle of the street earlier that day, or a disappointing dinner someplace that serves its beer 20 degrees too cold and dripping down the outside of the mug (and onto my jeans), or the scent of patchouli hitting me in the face when I walked in the door. But I think there was more to it.
The lineup of the band has changed since the last time I saw and enjoyed them. (I saw them once in the transition process--WAY too many musicians who hadn't rehearsed together. Highly annoying.) Their lead singer and guitarist has been replaced by two people. They're both hugely talented. Their original fiddle player has returned to the fold. He's not the virtuoso their interim fiddler was, but he's perfectly competent. They'd even rehearsed.
So why was I getting more disgusted by the minute?
First there was the lack of energy. These are killer tunes that in the past have had me dancing so long and so hard I could barely move the next day. Saturday there were pauses to tune and discuss in between each song. The fiddle player was under amped, so every time he took over, momentum dropped off. And the lead singer kept "jazzing" up the lyrics by singing them with no regard for the beat. You just can't do that and keep your audience stamping their feet.
Every time he sang one of my favorite songs, I wanted to throttle him, but I'm not sure he would have cared. He might have viewed it as his chance to stop singing that song forever.
When they played a new song and the energy of the place jumped, I figured out the problem. Their lead singer wasn't having a good time. He was bored with the music he'd written fifteen years ago (the first time he was with the band), and the fact that we liked it didn't matter. He wasn't playing for us. He didn't care whether I had a good time. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost the realization that I'm not paying him to sit on a stage and tootle a tin whistle; I'm paying him to entertain me.
The last guy was a bit of a showoff. He was at least as talented as this new guy, and he did some silly stuff on stage to keep himself from getting bored. But he always brought it back to the songs, and he always took his audience with him for the ride. To me, that means he met the bigger challenge, one the band was failing Saturday night.
Okay, so some of it may have been due to the car breaking down in the middle of the street earlier that day, or a disappointing dinner someplace that serves its beer 20 degrees too cold and dripping down the outside of the mug (and onto my jeans), or the scent of patchouli hitting me in the face when I walked in the door. But I think there was more to it.
The lineup of the band has changed since the last time I saw and enjoyed them. (I saw them once in the transition process--WAY too many musicians who hadn't rehearsed together. Highly annoying.) Their lead singer and guitarist has been replaced by two people. They're both hugely talented. Their original fiddle player has returned to the fold. He's not the virtuoso their interim fiddler was, but he's perfectly competent. They'd even rehearsed.
So why was I getting more disgusted by the minute?
First there was the lack of energy. These are killer tunes that in the past have had me dancing so long and so hard I could barely move the next day. Saturday there were pauses to tune and discuss in between each song. The fiddle player was under amped, so every time he took over, momentum dropped off. And the lead singer kept "jazzing" up the lyrics by singing them with no regard for the beat. You just can't do that and keep your audience stamping their feet.
Every time he sang one of my favorite songs, I wanted to throttle him, but I'm not sure he would have cared. He might have viewed it as his chance to stop singing that song forever.
When they played a new song and the energy of the place jumped, I figured out the problem. Their lead singer wasn't having a good time. He was bored with the music he'd written fifteen years ago (the first time he was with the band), and the fact that we liked it didn't matter. He wasn't playing for us. He didn't care whether I had a good time. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost the realization that I'm not paying him to sit on a stage and tootle a tin whistle; I'm paying him to entertain me.
The last guy was a bit of a showoff. He was at least as talented as this new guy, and he did some silly stuff on stage to keep himself from getting bored. But he always brought it back to the songs, and he always took his audience with him for the ride. To me, that means he met the bigger challenge, one the band was failing Saturday night.
Labels:
reviews
Heh
| What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Drama Nerd You sure do love the spotlight and probably have a very out-going and loud personality. Or not. That's just a stereotype, of course. Participation in the theatre is something to be very proud of. Whether you have a great voice for musicals, or astounding skills for dramas/comedies; keep up the good work. We need more entertainment these days that isn't television and video games (not that these things are bad, necessarily.) | |
| Science/Math Nerd | |
| Literature Nerd | |
| Social Nerd | |
| Artistic Nerd | |
| Gamer/Computer Nerd | |
| Anime Nerd | |
| Musician | |
| What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace | |
It has some trouble differentiating between historical and current geekery. It's been eighteen years since I was last on the stage. And interestingly, singing is not musicianship. My choir director might have had something to say about that.
Labels:
navel gazing
March 10, 2007
Saw 300 Last Night
Eh.
It isn't exactly a bad movie, but it is a remarkable exercise in not trusting your story or your audience. Just as less is sometimes more, sometimes more is crap. We were in a theater packed full of people who were staying up past their (well, my) bedtimes to see the movie on opening day, and I was far from the only person giggling at inappropriate times.
I wanted to see this movie, and I really wanted to like it. I mean, come on, the Battle of Thermopylae! How cool is that? Not cool enough, I guess.
Apparently one of history's great examples of tactics and self-sacrifice just wasn't interesting enough for the filmmakers. The precision and cooperation of the phalanx wasn't as showy as a Spartan soldier standing alone swinging his sword at the Persians who were kind enough to approach one at a time. The odds weren't bad enough without half the Persian army being supernatural creatures and the Greek soldiers failing to fight. It wasn't bad enough that Ephialtes was a traitor; he also had to be a hunchback with elephantiasis. The priests weren't villainous enough unless they had albinism and leprosy. Xerxes couldn't just be a power-mad tyrant; he had to be a seven-foot-tall pincushion and talk like a Goa'uld. The Spartans weren't brave enough unless they went into battle in Speedos and flowing choke-me capes instead of their armor (yes, the guys in the red capes died). We called them the March of the Abs.
Then there were the guitar licks out of left field.
Oh, and to look at the few women in the movie, it was apparently filmed during Mardi Gras.
Grr.
Did the movie have an up-side? Of course. They kept the historians' good lines. It's visually arresting, straddling the line between blood porn and still art. Not even the director could make David Wenham declaim all his lines. There are some nice hints of politics wedged in between the historically ridiculous fight scenes.
As I said before, it isn't exactly a bad movie. I just wanted more. And I'd have been happier with so much less.
It isn't exactly a bad movie, but it is a remarkable exercise in not trusting your story or your audience. Just as less is sometimes more, sometimes more is crap. We were in a theater packed full of people who were staying up past their (well, my) bedtimes to see the movie on opening day, and I was far from the only person giggling at inappropriate times.
I wanted to see this movie, and I really wanted to like it. I mean, come on, the Battle of Thermopylae! How cool is that? Not cool enough, I guess.
Apparently one of history's great examples of tactics and self-sacrifice just wasn't interesting enough for the filmmakers. The precision and cooperation of the phalanx wasn't as showy as a Spartan soldier standing alone swinging his sword at the Persians who were kind enough to approach one at a time. The odds weren't bad enough without half the Persian army being supernatural creatures and the Greek soldiers failing to fight. It wasn't bad enough that Ephialtes was a traitor; he also had to be a hunchback with elephantiasis. The priests weren't villainous enough unless they had albinism and leprosy. Xerxes couldn't just be a power-mad tyrant; he had to be a seven-foot-tall pincushion and talk like a Goa'uld. The Spartans weren't brave enough unless they went into battle in Speedos and flowing choke-me capes instead of their armor (yes, the guys in the red capes died). We called them the March of the Abs.
Then there were the guitar licks out of left field.
Oh, and to look at the few women in the movie, it was apparently filmed during Mardi Gras.
Grr.
Did the movie have an up-side? Of course. They kept the historians' good lines. It's visually arresting, straddling the line between blood porn and still art. Not even the director could make David Wenham declaim all his lines. There are some nice hints of politics wedged in between the historically ridiculous fight scenes.
As I said before, it isn't exactly a bad movie. I just wanted more. And I'd have been happier with so much less.
Labels:
reviews
February 28, 2007
Being "Broken"
There was a bit of a to do over at Wyrdsmiths over the "lie" of epiphany and cathartic healing. Elizabeth Bear had posted her thoughts on seeing it in stories--namely that it makes her blood boil, since it just isn't true. There are some good responses in the Wyrdsmith's post and in the comments.
I'm not sure mine was entirely relevant to the discussion at hand. It was more a reaction to the pervasive idea among lit'rary types that good things happening in stories are either less artistic or less "true" than bad events. This idea bothers me, in part, because it doesn't fit my world view. It also implies either that everyone reads for one reason (to experience Art) or that reading for pleasure, comfort or escape is less worthy. I guess if writers want to restrict their audiences that way, it's up to them. I see these discussions as a flag for writers whose works I'm unlikely to enjoy.
Completely aside from artistic arguments, one thing I noticed in the debate was a difference in the use of the idea of "broken" characters. It's pretty common to hear writers talking about the ways in which their characters are broken. After all, too perfect characters gall quickly (my main problem with Princess Academy). But it became apparent that those of us talking about the issue were once again divided by our common language.
On one hand were the posters who thought broken simply meant not whole or fully functional. The CD keeps skipping fresh out of the box. On the other were those who felt that broken meant, literally, someone who had been whole at one point and had been cracked or shattered. And the second point of view had simply never occurred to me before.
It shouldn't have been a surprise. There's a cult of childhood in our society. This should logically mean that some people enjoyed their childhoods. Presumably some of them even made it into adulthood without major trauma, with most of the skills they need to thrive in adult society until something big whacks them hard. But it's so alien to my past, thinking about people this way makes them feel less real to me.
I started with a couple of handicaps. I picked up more along the way. Fixing broken could never mean returning to an ideal starting state. It meant filling in the gaps, gaining skills that allowed me to patch the problems. Admittedly, I call this being defective, not broken, but it's the lens through which I've always seen the brokenness of my characters.
I guess it's time to learn a new set of characterization skills.
I'm not sure mine was entirely relevant to the discussion at hand. It was more a reaction to the pervasive idea among lit'rary types that good things happening in stories are either less artistic or less "true" than bad events. This idea bothers me, in part, because it doesn't fit my world view. It also implies either that everyone reads for one reason (to experience Art) or that reading for pleasure, comfort or escape is less worthy. I guess if writers want to restrict their audiences that way, it's up to them. I see these discussions as a flag for writers whose works I'm unlikely to enjoy.
Completely aside from artistic arguments, one thing I noticed in the debate was a difference in the use of the idea of "broken" characters. It's pretty common to hear writers talking about the ways in which their characters are broken. After all, too perfect characters gall quickly (my main problem with Princess Academy). But it became apparent that those of us talking about the issue were once again divided by our common language.
On one hand were the posters who thought broken simply meant not whole or fully functional. The CD keeps skipping fresh out of the box. On the other were those who felt that broken meant, literally, someone who had been whole at one point and had been cracked or shattered. And the second point of view had simply never occurred to me before.
It shouldn't have been a surprise. There's a cult of childhood in our society. This should logically mean that some people enjoyed their childhoods. Presumably some of them even made it into adulthood without major trauma, with most of the skills they need to thrive in adult society until something big whacks them hard. But it's so alien to my past, thinking about people this way makes them feel less real to me.
I started with a couple of handicaps. I picked up more along the way. Fixing broken could never mean returning to an ideal starting state. It meant filling in the gaps, gaining skills that allowed me to patch the problems. Admittedly, I call this being defective, not broken, but it's the lens through which I've always seen the brokenness of my characters.
I guess it's time to learn a new set of characterization skills.
Labels:
Art
February 14, 2007
Who Is This Strange Person?
I’m currently revising a novel, making sure I keep writing new things, and playing beta reader for a couple of friends, so the blog is going to continue to be underloved for a little bit. Here’s a meme running around that will at least give you an introduction to the person behind the stock CSS. Thanks to Doug Hulick for the idea.
1. What bill do you hate paying the most?
The car, which replaced a much loved car that died in an accident, is the only bill I still have to put in the mail. Everything else only requires that I not do something silly enough to lose my job.
2. Where's the best place to eat a romantic dinner?
The only qualifications are that we have to stop whatever else we’re doing and pay attention to each other and that it can’t be too noisy.
3. Last time you puked from drinking?
I think I was about fifteen. I woke up the next day with the flu, so I’m not sure it was the brandy, though.
4. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar?
One word—acrophobia. Actually, drunk and dancing are mutually exclusive. The particular high of dancing doesn’t often come if I’ve got more than a wee buzz.
5. Name of your first grade teacher?
I’m pretty sure I was in first grade. My mother thought it would be bad for me to skip it and be two years younger than everyone else in my class. I just don’t remember any of it.
6. What do you really want to be doing right now?
Carving out a big enough chunk of time to really get rolling on my new story.
7. What did you want to be when you were growing up?
A teacher, until I realized it meant being on stage all day. A dancer, until my joints betrayed me. An astronaut, similarly ruled out by my body. A counselor, until I discovered that there was no evidence that most types of therapy had any lasting value.
8. How many colleges did you attend?
Two.
9. Why did you wear that shirt you have on right now?
It’s warm, clean, and I haven’t worn it in a while. That and it went with the handiest pair of clean pants.
10. GAS PRICES?
I walk to work, so I don’t have a lot of personal stake. I’d like to see prices accurately reflect our society’s investment in oil, but I’m pretty sure that the brunt of any changes would be borne by the people who can least afford it.
11. If you could move anywhere and take someone with you?
I’m awfully happy where I am, and I’d have to take a bunch of people with me to be happy anywhere else long-term. However, I’m rather fond of Edinburgh, Flagstaff, and PEI.
12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?
The first three beeps somehow worked into my dream at the time. Then my first thought was, as it always is, to shut it off before it disturbs Ben. This is silly, since my alarm doesn’t wake him up even when he has to get up first, but I never claimed to be brilliant before dawn.
13. Last thought before going to sleep last night?
Heck if I know. Falling asleep is almost always a long process of the brain winding down.
14. Favorite style of underwear?
Ones that fit.
15. Favorite style of underwear for the opposite sex?
Favorite cut depends on the cut of the guy.
16. What errand/chore do you despise?
Dishes.
17. If you didn't have to work, would you volunteer at an art gallery?
Nope. Art museum—maybe. Art gallery—no.
18. Get up early or sleep in?
What am I trying to accomplish today? Sometimes sleep is its own goal.
19. What is your favorite cartoon character?
Danger Mouse. Well, it might be Penfold, actually.
20. Favorite NON sexual thing to do at night with a girl/guy?
Stay up talking until the world takes on that slightly surreal glow and anything can be said without worries.
21. A secret that you wouldn't mind everyone knowing?
Nope. Sorry. Either someone knows, so it’s not a secret, or it’s dying with me.
22. When did you first start feeling old?
Getting arthritis at 13 made me a bit precocious.
23. Favorite 80's movie?
Real Genius.
24. Your favorite lunch meat?
Smoked turkey.
25. What do you get every time you go into Sam's Club?
Hives.
26. Beach or lake?
Lake with trees and rocks along the shore. Someplace nice to sit and just stare at the water.
27. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual that was invented?
It works for me.
28. How many people do you stalk on Myspace?
I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a Myspace page once.
29. Favorite guilty pleasure?
Sambuca or Drambuie. Depends on the day.
30. Favorite movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about?
I don’t usually scream to the world that I have a small collection of Danny Kaye movies, but I don’t care if anyone knows, either.
31. What's your drink?
See 29.
32. Cowboys or Indians?
Never played either as a kid, but I’m some tiny part native Canadian.
33. Cops or Robbers?
Both. I usually root for whomever is smarter.
34. Who from high school would you like to run into?
Evan. Erin. Jackie, if it were still possible. Pete. Stacey. I'm sure there are others I'm missing.
35. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now?
I don’t drive. Ben keeps it on the Current until I’m appalled by what I’m hearing. Then it goes on the local alternative station until the commercials come on.
36. Norm or Cliff?
Carla.
37. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons?
Simpsons.
38. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back?
There was a lot of being young and a lot of learning. I’d spare some people’s feelings if I could, and there were a couple of boys who weren’t worth kissing. For that matter, there were a couple who I should have just gone ahead and kissed, circumstances be damned. But I’m happy with where it all got me.
39. Do you like the person who sits directly across from you at work?
Uh, there’s no one there, but most of the people I work with are cool. I try to keep the ones who aren’t from realizing it.
40. If you could get away with it, who would you kill?
"Whom," people, whom would I kill. Are you trying to make me homicidal? Seriously, though, I think the consequences of killing even an awful person would be too hard to predict.
41. What famous person(s) would you like to have dinner with?
Alton Brown (for the conversation more than the cooking), Alan Cumming, Miss Snark, Oscar Wilde—almost anyone clever and not too sweet.
42. What famous person would you like to sleep with?
And dispel the mystique? You’re kidding, right?
43. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose?
Nope.
44. Last book you read for real?
The last one I finished was a Tamora Pierce YA. I’m reading Mary Roach’s Spook currently.
45. Do you have a teddy bear?
I think I still have a Gund that was given to me tucked somewhere in a closet. I have a stuffed dinosaur, though.
46. Have you ever brushed your teeth?
Duh. Ew.
47. Somewhere in California you've never been and would like to go?
I’ve never been to California. Seeing M5 Industries would be cool, though.
48. Number of texts in a day?
Now I know you’re kidding. Do you know how few cell minutes I use in a month? I'm a poster child for a shared plan.
49. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or a new relationship?
I’m working on the new career, although I don’t expect it to replace the current one.
50. Do you go to church?
Aside from weddings, christenings, and funerals, maybe twice in my life.
51. Pencil or pen?
Keyboard.
52. What do you want to achieve in life?
Perfection, but I’ll manage if I never get there.
53. How old are you?
36
54. Where do you see yourself when you are 40?
I plan for retirement, since it helps to start early (mmm, compound interest), but my other long-term goals are pretty fluid. So far, adult life has treated me well. I think I’ll hang in there and see how it goes.
1. What bill do you hate paying the most?
The car, which replaced a much loved car that died in an accident, is the only bill I still have to put in the mail. Everything else only requires that I not do something silly enough to lose my job.
2. Where's the best place to eat a romantic dinner?
The only qualifications are that we have to stop whatever else we’re doing and pay attention to each other and that it can’t be too noisy.
3. Last time you puked from drinking?
I think I was about fifteen. I woke up the next day with the flu, so I’m not sure it was the brandy, though.
4. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar?
One word—acrophobia. Actually, drunk and dancing are mutually exclusive. The particular high of dancing doesn’t often come if I’ve got more than a wee buzz.
5. Name of your first grade teacher?
I’m pretty sure I was in first grade. My mother thought it would be bad for me to skip it and be two years younger than everyone else in my class. I just don’t remember any of it.
6. What do you really want to be doing right now?
Carving out a big enough chunk of time to really get rolling on my new story.
7. What did you want to be when you were growing up?
A teacher, until I realized it meant being on stage all day. A dancer, until my joints betrayed me. An astronaut, similarly ruled out by my body. A counselor, until I discovered that there was no evidence that most types of therapy had any lasting value.
8. How many colleges did you attend?
Two.
9. Why did you wear that shirt you have on right now?
It’s warm, clean, and I haven’t worn it in a while. That and it went with the handiest pair of clean pants.
10. GAS PRICES?
I walk to work, so I don’t have a lot of personal stake. I’d like to see prices accurately reflect our society’s investment in oil, but I’m pretty sure that the brunt of any changes would be borne by the people who can least afford it.
11. If you could move anywhere and take someone with you?
I’m awfully happy where I am, and I’d have to take a bunch of people with me to be happy anywhere else long-term. However, I’m rather fond of Edinburgh, Flagstaff, and PEI.
12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?
The first three beeps somehow worked into my dream at the time. Then my first thought was, as it always is, to shut it off before it disturbs Ben. This is silly, since my alarm doesn’t wake him up even when he has to get up first, but I never claimed to be brilliant before dawn.
13. Last thought before going to sleep last night?
Heck if I know. Falling asleep is almost always a long process of the brain winding down.
14. Favorite style of underwear?
Ones that fit.
15. Favorite style of underwear for the opposite sex?
Favorite cut depends on the cut of the guy.
16. What errand/chore do you despise?
Dishes.
17. If you didn't have to work, would you volunteer at an art gallery?
Nope. Art museum—maybe. Art gallery—no.
18. Get up early or sleep in?
What am I trying to accomplish today? Sometimes sleep is its own goal.
19. What is your favorite cartoon character?
Danger Mouse. Well, it might be Penfold, actually.
20. Favorite NON sexual thing to do at night with a girl/guy?
Stay up talking until the world takes on that slightly surreal glow and anything can be said without worries.
21. A secret that you wouldn't mind everyone knowing?
Nope. Sorry. Either someone knows, so it’s not a secret, or it’s dying with me.
22. When did you first start feeling old?
Getting arthritis at 13 made me a bit precocious.
23. Favorite 80's movie?
Real Genius.
24. Your favorite lunch meat?
Smoked turkey.
25. What do you get every time you go into Sam's Club?
Hives.
26. Beach or lake?
Lake with trees and rocks along the shore. Someplace nice to sit and just stare at the water.
27. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual that was invented?
It works for me.
28. How many people do you stalk on Myspace?
I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a Myspace page once.
29. Favorite guilty pleasure?
Sambuca or Drambuie. Depends on the day.
30. Favorite movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about?
I don’t usually scream to the world that I have a small collection of Danny Kaye movies, but I don’t care if anyone knows, either.
31. What's your drink?
See 29.
32. Cowboys or Indians?
Never played either as a kid, but I’m some tiny part native Canadian.
33. Cops or Robbers?
Both. I usually root for whomever is smarter.
34. Who from high school would you like to run into?
Evan. Erin. Jackie, if it were still possible. Pete. Stacey. I'm sure there are others I'm missing.
35. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now?
I don’t drive. Ben keeps it on the Current until I’m appalled by what I’m hearing. Then it goes on the local alternative station until the commercials come on.
36. Norm or Cliff?
Carla.
37. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons?
Simpsons.
38. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back?
There was a lot of being young and a lot of learning. I’d spare some people’s feelings if I could, and there were a couple of boys who weren’t worth kissing. For that matter, there were a couple who I should have just gone ahead and kissed, circumstances be damned. But I’m happy with where it all got me.
39. Do you like the person who sits directly across from you at work?
Uh, there’s no one there, but most of the people I work with are cool. I try to keep the ones who aren’t from realizing it.
40. If you could get away with it, who would you kill?
"Whom," people, whom would I kill. Are you trying to make me homicidal? Seriously, though, I think the consequences of killing even an awful person would be too hard to predict.
41. What famous person(s) would you like to have dinner with?
Alton Brown (for the conversation more than the cooking), Alan Cumming, Miss Snark, Oscar Wilde—almost anyone clever and not too sweet.
42. What famous person would you like to sleep with?
And dispel the mystique? You’re kidding, right?
43. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose?
Nope.
44. Last book you read for real?
The last one I finished was a Tamora Pierce YA. I’m reading Mary Roach’s Spook currently.
45. Do you have a teddy bear?
I think I still have a Gund that was given to me tucked somewhere in a closet. I have a stuffed dinosaur, though.
46. Have you ever brushed your teeth?
Duh. Ew.
47. Somewhere in California you've never been and would like to go?
I’ve never been to California. Seeing M5 Industries would be cool, though.
48. Number of texts in a day?
Now I know you’re kidding. Do you know how few cell minutes I use in a month? I'm a poster child for a shared plan.
49. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or a new relationship?
I’m working on the new career, although I don’t expect it to replace the current one.
50. Do you go to church?
Aside from weddings, christenings, and funerals, maybe twice in my life.
51. Pencil or pen?
Keyboard.
52. What do you want to achieve in life?
Perfection, but I’ll manage if I never get there.
53. How old are you?
36
54. Where do you see yourself when you are 40?
I plan for retirement, since it helps to start early (mmm, compound interest), but my other long-term goals are pretty fluid. So far, adult life has treated me well. I think I’ll hang in there and see how it goes.
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