Abridgement

When I was in Texas for a few weeks this summer(visiting my parents, and escaping the mindlessness that is working at PetSmart), I dug around and discovered all the audio books I had collected when I was a little kid. I will be up front now and say that literally all the books I had been able to hold onto and had carefully stored in a box in my closet were Star Wars audio books. I don't care, I like Star Wars. Anyway, while I was out there I entertained the notion of converting these ancient cassettes into the mighty modern digital format. I did some basic searching online and found a few things, but if anyone has an cheap method or idea for how to do this, let me know! I mention this because I have a desire to revisit these old stories, but as I own them already there is no way I am going to buy them a second time.

Of course, I say that now but ask me again in a week if I stuck to my guns.

The relevance of this is that all of these books are abridged. If you are unaware, abridged basically means that an editor went thru and removed sections of the book that are not "essential" to the story, thus making it an amicable media for an ADD society. It also means that, though the author often approves the changes made, I have no doubt it is done grudgingly. And if not….well, you suck, author. Regardless, I have no problem with the offering of an abridged version; some people just want to get straight to the entertainment. Though there is something funny in that someone who doesn't have time/want to read a book will also prefer to get a shortened version of the book in audio format. Should just save themselves a few bucks and ask their friend what it was about.

I seesaw back and forth about this though. I mean…I own at least 15 abridged
books that I just asked about converting to digital. I rationalize it with the fact that absolutely none of these titles are offered in an unabridged form.

Am I formulating an argument that was out of date ten years ago? I think so.

Blue or Red?

I near a point now where I can decide to leave the comfortable world of my college experience and move on to the next stage of life, or hunker down and continue my education, and I honestly can not produce an answer. My degree will be complete as of the end of this semester, and from here I can pursue minors, a second major, or move straight to grad school. I can also get what constitutes a real job in the world.

To be honest, a real job seems most appealing to me right now. I believe it is because the prospect of a real job brings with it the ability to escape out of Florida. I feel somewhat trapped here, as I have to complete my education before I can leave, and my fondness for Florida is at best a circumstantial event. On a daily basis I dislike living here; it is far to hot here for my taste, and it honestly doesn't rain often enough. And I like the rain. Everyone always seems upset when its raining; I see rain clouds forming and I smile. I'm odd, whatever!

Another plus for escaping: I kinda want to escape the roommate situation I am in at present. While there is nothing overtly wrong with the people I live with…I never thought I would say this, but they all have tunnel vision when it comes to video games. As in, if they had to sit down and describe what they do with their free time, the ONLY answer all three of them could give is "I play World of Warcraft". I exclude my brother from this assessment as he has only lived here for a month and I can't rightly describe his free time use yet.

I think that, as an experiment, I'm going to see how productive I can be if I spend some time on the days when I don't have classes on campus. I think my room, maybe even this house, is kind of like a productivity sucker. Today I had plenty of time to get things done, and instead, really, I read a little of what I needed to read, played a random game for a half hour, and napped. Oh yea, and played chauffer for my brother.

Must…flee...

Chasing phantoms in one's dreams...

Web-Comic-ness

I entertain the notions of a web-comic, produced with a friend of mine; I will write, and she will draw. This arrangement exists primarily because she is an exceptional artist and my stick figures look like they were just pulled from a multi-car pileup.

At first I considered this to be a look at ourselves and our mutual friends, illustrating the amusing events that transpired when she and I both attended the same school. There are many events in our minds, and it is only a matter of transferring them to a community media for the enjoyment of all. However, as I have thought more about this, I have grown fonder of the idea of basing the characters on people I know, but allowing them to grow from there. I see this both as a way to achieve originality and make it so that I don't have to hide this comic from the people considered; not everyone enjoys being made fun of, I have learned.

Most importantly, writing these characters with differences from the people I am basing them on will give me what I feel is some much needed experience in writing different personalities and their interactions with each other. I feel like it would be very easy to get into the mindset of the characters…but at the same time, it feels like schizophrenia if I go too far. I suppose one must make sacrifices...

PS. I just discovered that by writing something in Microsoft office OneNote I can select an option titled "Blog this" and it will send it to blogger. How cool!

Unnamed, for now

In a day all full of plight
I'll look toward the coming night
In hopes of hearing , in caring tones
"Now you're a welcome sight"

But if a lonely night sets on
I'll just await the coming dawn
So I may go to greet the sun
Standing by myself upon the lawn

Should I miss the sun, clock misled
I'll wait for noon to come, instead
For surely with the sun so high
Life around will be far from dead

But if rain clouds block the sun away
I'll take the rain, it's all ok
for though im alone, overslept, and a bit wet
tomorrow is a brand new day!

The internet comes for your books and children!

A humble rant, perhaps some actual story-writing in the coming days.

I find that when confronted with someone that takes what is meant to be enjoyable recreation to an extreme, I almost immediately become an asshole. Not too overtly so, but just enough that in retrospect I can see how I was being a jerk. My key example for the evening is the four or so hours I spent playing SSBB(That would be Super Smash Brother's Brawl, for those unaware) this evening. All was fun and games until a particular person arrived who brought with him an air of both superiority and seriousness.
Now, don't get me wrong, I can take some things more seriously than others, and not all of them are intense, professional, life oriented things. But before this person arrived, most of the amazing moments in the game were punctuated by one or more people going "What the fuck? That was awesome! What was that!?". The first time such phrase was voiced in his presence, he answered with "That was back-B". An uncomfortable silence followed, underlining the discomfort and abrupt departure of the jovial atmosphere that had previously existed. This kind of attitude finds its way into some of the classes I take as well. Especially in the larger classes, I'm sure anyone with slight experience in college will remember the one student who not only knew the answers to all the questions the professor asked, but would take it upon himself to expand upon said question so that the rest of the class could leave that day without a doubt that they had witnessed the display of his intellect.

Which leads me into a second thing that has been bothering me. I've noticed, not so much in my classes but in classes that either friends or my brother are taking, where professors specify the negligible value of internet resources. This is not to say they advise against it; my brother's philosophy course has specifically said that they are not to employ the internet at all. To me this is somewhat horrifying, not because of my unrelenting dependency on the interwebs to provide me with all forms of stimulation i so desire, but because it appears that these professors either resent the internet's simply access to knowledge, or believe that all knowledge contained online can only lead to in depth scientific papers eventually looking like this:

This strikes me largely as the 21st century version of the "When I was your age I had to walk 15 miles in the snow to get to school."
"Dad, I know you had cars back then. In fact, i've seen the pictures of you and dad with the old truck"
"Well, yes but I had to siphon the gas myself from the neighbor's car, and they had a dog. A big...mean dog."
...Anyway, to me the internet represents potential access to all kinds of information. Sure, you shouldn't quote Wikipedia for your essay, but my experience has revealed that the sources at the bottom of many pages are very useful, especially for semi-current topics. I feel somew
hat like these teachers are afraid of change; that or they think that if one is not forced to search through hundreds of pages of texts in the style of a gold-shifter, the student has clearly not earned the right to view such knowledge.

The towers of those who hold our knowledge close to their chest, these "libraries", tremble in fear, though with time they will come to realize that the information they secret away in hard copies will serve a greater purpose when I do not need to drive ten minutes to search through the pages.

I almost feel obligated at this point to reinforce my dear love for the physical medium of literature, but only so much as to say this: I love reading books; I do not love pawing thru them for an hour trying to find an entire quote when I know it starts with "And then I leapt into the..." and all I have to do on my computer is hold the ctrl key and press f to search for it.

Alcohol made this meaningful, too little made it less than entertaining; I apologize.

It's the thought that counts

On a day I had mentally dedicated both to school work and to writing, not a whole lot of either was accomplished. Much to my own annoyance I awoke not at an early hour as I had planned, but instead at almost 1 pm! This may seem a result of my staying up as late as I do(going to be now would be hitting the sack pretty early, by my standards), I have in the past gotten around 3-4 hours of sleep before heading to work at PetSmart for a good ten hours. Personally, i think that i'm finding a lack of motivation and inspiration in the things I do around the house. The only times i seem to get up when I -intend- to get up are when I've either got school or work looming on the horizon(literally!) What happens tomorrow, with classes at what has been my usual wakeup time for the last 4 days, is anyone's guess.

I find it difficult to get myself on the path to writing consistently and with substance lately. But it seems like the only issue is actually sitting down and putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, as is the case right now. When i actually let myself relax and open up a word processor, the thoughts and words just seem to pour out. So...clearly its my own fault and I just need to make a greater effort to sit still and WRITE. My notebook, which has been so neglected the last few months, has been dug out and i'm trying to make use of it again. The most recent notes in it concern a certain character, named Cecil Bandersnatch, as well as some mention of the Ragnarok. Also, I found this quote, from a poem in one of my classes last year: "I dreamed you were a poem, i say, a poem I wanted to show someone." Nice. I wish I had written it. The footnote tells me where to find the source, but I am lazy!

A word about Cecil

As a dry run, allow me a moment to tell you a bit about Cecil Bandersnatch. Some may claim he is an invention of the imagination, perhaps added by a degree of alcohol consumption, but I can tell you for certain he is a real person. This is what I know about him:

Cecil was born in the south of England in 1980 in the town of Hastings. His parents were only holiday there from their home in London, and so he has no special connection to the place. He has been overheard to say, however, that when things got rough in London he has been known to make a "Hastingsy retreat".
Though there is some uncertainty, no doubt encouraged by Cecil himself, as to the occurrences of his youth, if there is one fact about Cecil that is not in question, it is this: he went to Oxford. There he studied botany, and distinguished himself as best one can amongst the clearly competitive botany crowd. When interrogated further, Cecil has revealed on several occasions that he was second in his class, though the reason that he did not obtain the top spot has only be explained as, in his own words, "A social faux pas involving the daughter of a Dean at Oxford, and the botany department located at King's College".
Cecil's family is very old money, as people like to say; his father is the attaché to the Minister of Defense in England, which as I understand is more of a ceremonial position given to him in much the same way our country hands out ambassadorships like they are candy. Needless to say, Cecil wants for nothing and is perfectly content that way. While he does not squander his wealth, having it allows I know for a fact, having visited the place on several occasions, that he owns a rather spacious apartment in New York City that contains no furniture at all, though he has gone to the trouble of outlining every space the furniture would occupy with painter's tape and enjoys making a show of always asking why you are standing on the couch when you wander within the imaginary perimeter.
I must correct myself on one point regarding his New York apartment; there is one room that is furnished, and to see it you would think you had stepped into a different time. The walls are hardwood, where they are not hidden behind bookshelves stuffed to the breaking point with volumes containing all variations of knowledge. The vast majority of the tomes are bristling with makeshift bookmarks and notes, no doubt added by Cecil himself. The only other furniture in the room is a massive hard oak desk with a decidedly comfortable-looking chair on one side. Most of the drawers of the desk are locked, the only one that is not holds an assorted array of pipes, all of which when blown will emit a stream of bubbles.Cecil to entertain the strange notions that overtake him as a person with more free time than commitments.
I would not go so far as to say that Cecil is a drunk; this assumes that one not only achieves sobriety during the course of their waking hours, but also that one overindulges in consuming alcohol. It seems somehow significant that Cecil manages to constantly walk the line between either of these states. He carries with him always the faintest scent of alcohol in the way one is left with a favorable scent-memory of a beloved realitive who drinks a bit too much, and less in the oh-God-why-do-i-always-get-the-subway-seat-by-the-wino. He also always carries a flask on his person, though they occasionally vary in design; I have learned over time that this betrays their contents, though my investigative skills are humbled when I reveal this knowledge only comes to me by Cecil's own admission.

And that is all I have to share on the man for now.