Yay! I passed Intro Clay with an A and Experimental Psychology with a B(-)!
Woo-hoo!
Photos, thoughts, and miscellaneous brain matter.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Life Tip #5 Computer Documents
Don't trust your computer. Always save potentially important documents in at least two places. It would be even better if you printed them. You might be killing trees, but at least there's evidence of your hard work.
Always double save.
Always double save.
Life Tip #4 Weight, Beauty, and Value
I see a lot of girls wondering if they're pretty enough, fearing they're not, wondering if they're thin enough, fearing their not, and the word "healthy" being thrown around all in the mix.
Let me clarify.
This realization comes after year and years of my own pain, my own confusion.
First.
You are already beautiful.
Not just beautiful enough.
You are beautiful.
You are. Just as you.
When you exist well, live well, pursue your best self than your very state of being is beautiful. Don't let them lie to you, don't let them trick you into thinking anything else. You're not just beautiful, you're captivating, you're precious, you're lovely. Neither your health nor your weight have anything to do with whether or not you're beautiful.
Second.
Do you eat healthy food? Do you usually get enough sleep? Do you take care of your body and try to avoid and heal injury and illness? Are you physically active? Do you exercise for enjoyment? Do you make efforts to be as emotionally healthy as you can be and to be your best self? If so, CONGRATULATIONS, you are thin enough. In fact, you're perfect. Don't let them lie to you. Health and weight are not the same. There are many many unhealthy people who are very thin. They believe the lie and it will end their lives prematurely. If you are healthy, you are healthy. This "healthy weight" shit has got to end. If you are consistently healthy your weight will be healthy for you. This is a simple equation. It doesn't even require math.
Third.
For the record, and let me be very clear, neither your weight, nor how closely you fit into the very limited idea of commercial "beauty," nor how healthy you are or are not, nor how well you take care of your body or mind, nor how damaged your body and mind are or have been. Not how much money you have or ever will have. Not your weight. Not your political leanings. None of these things determine your value.
You exist.
You are valuable.
You deserve dignity.
You have value.
Life is your gift, don't let anyone (not even your own mind) try to trick you into thinking it's a gift you have to give back.
You are not a commodity to be appraised and acquired. Human value is NOT a limited commodity. It never will be.
IT NEVER WILL BE.
You are valuable. You, by existing, have value.
You.
So, yeah, take that with you, and keep your head up. There's a lot of confused and angry people in the world who will try to lie to you, who have believed lies themselves.
But we know better.
Let me clarify.
This realization comes after year and years of my own pain, my own confusion.
First.
You are already beautiful.
Not just beautiful enough.
You are beautiful.
You are. Just as you.
When you exist well, live well, pursue your best self than your very state of being is beautiful. Don't let them lie to you, don't let them trick you into thinking anything else. You're not just beautiful, you're captivating, you're precious, you're lovely. Neither your health nor your weight have anything to do with whether or not you're beautiful.
Second.
Do you eat healthy food? Do you usually get enough sleep? Do you take care of your body and try to avoid and heal injury and illness? Are you physically active? Do you exercise for enjoyment? Do you make efforts to be as emotionally healthy as you can be and to be your best self? If so, CONGRATULATIONS, you are thin enough. In fact, you're perfect. Don't let them lie to you. Health and weight are not the same. There are many many unhealthy people who are very thin. They believe the lie and it will end their lives prematurely. If you are healthy, you are healthy. This "healthy weight" shit has got to end. If you are consistently healthy your weight will be healthy for you. This is a simple equation. It doesn't even require math.
Third.
For the record, and let me be very clear, neither your weight, nor how closely you fit into the very limited idea of commercial "beauty," nor how healthy you are or are not, nor how well you take care of your body or mind, nor how damaged your body and mind are or have been. Not how much money you have or ever will have. Not your weight. Not your political leanings. None of these things determine your value.
You exist.
You are valuable.
You deserve dignity.
You have value.
Life is your gift, don't let anyone (not even your own mind) try to trick you into thinking it's a gift you have to give back.
You are not a commodity to be appraised and acquired. Human value is NOT a limited commodity. It never will be.
IT NEVER WILL BE.
You are valuable. You, by existing, have value.
You.
So, yeah, take that with you, and keep your head up. There's a lot of confused and angry people in the world who will try to lie to you, who have believed lies themselves.
But we know better.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Probably not the Nicest Thing
Note to self; don't judge.
New Microsoft Office 2013
New Word sucks.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Life Tip #3 Online Relationship Advice
Any relationship advice found on Yahoo! is invalid. Ignore it. Good advice is "encounter each person as an individual, adapt to them individually as much as you can (and expect the same in return) without becoming dysfunctional and without any harm coming to either of you. If you cannot do this or they cannot do this, this is not the right person for you. Move on."
Statements that begin with "men are/think" or "women are/think" are, largely, incorrect. And, if not incorrect, deeply tragic.
Statements that begin with "men are/think" or "women are/think" are, largely, incorrect. And, if not incorrect, deeply tragic.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Life Tip #2 Being Your Best Self
It has come to my attention that a lot of people are throwing out the term "be yourself" pretty liberally. That and "never change." I'd like to address that.
Now, I'm very much for being you, hopefully you can see that if you look at my other blog, but we're hitting some disparities here.
You should always strive to be your BEST SELF. Not just yourself.
And, you should change. You will change. Change is the nature of all living things. Only the dead are unchanged. Don't give up the choice of what about you will change to the forces of time and nature.
I read a "secret" (you know, that post secret thing) where a young guy says "everyone thinks I'm an asshole, but I'm not going to change, because an asshole is who I am."
Well...that sucks.
This is where our society (and apparently our teens) have gotten so confused.
Remember when you were six and you were still eating your boogies or you wouldn't let anyone clean your face or you always wet your bed? Remember? If "not changing" was the best thing you'd still have a dirty face, and still be picking your nose and licking your fingers, and still be peeing your bed. Why did you have to change? It was "natural," right? It was "you," right?
But it wasn't your best you.
You know the kid at the daycare who bites? And the one who steals the other kids' snacks? The kid who screams for hours after his mom leaves? Do we let them do this? Do we encourage little Johnny to keep biting and the kids who scream or slap him when he does to keep screaming and slapping? No, we don't. Why? Just like this self-described "asshole" in the post secret, he's just being "himself." Why then, do we tell him to apologize or encourage pro-social behavior? Why do we stop the other kids from screaming and hitting him?
Because he's not being his best self.
It's a tragedy when someone looks at themselves, and believes that by being stagnate, by holding on to qualities that hurt themselves and others, they're somehow being "true" to themselves.
When I was younger I used to have panic attacks- they sucked. I also didn't trust men. I corrected everyone's grammar. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? But I realized that though having panic attacks might be natural, it wasn't best. And while I had good reasons not to trust men, it wasn't conducive to my happiness or to that of others. And while the language was falling down around me, correcting everyone only made other people feel stupid and resentful and it didn't stop bad grammar from happening.
So, I change. I learned to be better. And it was a good thing.
So, how about this;
Don't be yourself, be your best self.
Now, I'm very much for being you, hopefully you can see that if you look at my other blog, but we're hitting some disparities here.
You should always strive to be your BEST SELF. Not just yourself.
And, you should change. You will change. Change is the nature of all living things. Only the dead are unchanged. Don't give up the choice of what about you will change to the forces of time and nature.
I read a "secret" (you know, that post secret thing) where a young guy says "everyone thinks I'm an asshole, but I'm not going to change, because an asshole is who I am."
Well...that sucks.
This is where our society (and apparently our teens) have gotten so confused.
Remember when you were six and you were still eating your boogies or you wouldn't let anyone clean your face or you always wet your bed? Remember? If "not changing" was the best thing you'd still have a dirty face, and still be picking your nose and licking your fingers, and still be peeing your bed. Why did you have to change? It was "natural," right? It was "you," right?
But it wasn't your best you.
You know the kid at the daycare who bites? And the one who steals the other kids' snacks? The kid who screams for hours after his mom leaves? Do we let them do this? Do we encourage little Johnny to keep biting and the kids who scream or slap him when he does to keep screaming and slapping? No, we don't. Why? Just like this self-described "asshole" in the post secret, he's just being "himself." Why then, do we tell him to apologize or encourage pro-social behavior? Why do we stop the other kids from screaming and hitting him?
Because he's not being his best self.
It's a tragedy when someone looks at themselves, and believes that by being stagnate, by holding on to qualities that hurt themselves and others, they're somehow being "true" to themselves.
When I was younger I used to have panic attacks- they sucked. I also didn't trust men. I corrected everyone's grammar. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? But I realized that though having panic attacks might be natural, it wasn't best. And while I had good reasons not to trust men, it wasn't conducive to my happiness or to that of others. And while the language was falling down around me, correcting everyone only made other people feel stupid and resentful and it didn't stop bad grammar from happening.
So, I change. I learned to be better. And it was a good thing.
So, how about this;
Don't be yourself, be your best self.
Life Tip #1 Insulting Yourself
Here's a little bit of info that I know changed my life when I learned it (really learned it).
When you insult yourself, people tend to believe you. After all, it's coming strait from the source.
Humility and self-self-flagellation are not the same thing.
When you insult yourself, people tend to believe you. After all, it's coming strait from the source.
Humility and self-self-flagellation are not the same thing.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Boston Bombing
Today two bombs went off during the Boston marathon. Last I knew three were dead, several critical, around 130 wounded.
My heart breaks for all those effected. My heart breaks for Boston.
This was evil. Tragic, and evil. Done by people who have given themselves to evil.
But there is also still good in the world; kindness, trustworthiness, valor. Cling to those things.
Seek justice, refuse fear, cling to virtue
and sleep in peace.
My heart and prayers go out to all tonight.
My heart breaks for all those effected. My heart breaks for Boston.
This was evil. Tragic, and evil. Done by people who have given themselves to evil.
But there is also still good in the world; kindness, trustworthiness, valor. Cling to those things.
Seek justice, refuse fear, cling to virtue
and sleep in peace.
My heart and prayers go out to all tonight.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Matt Long Throwing Demo
Had the privilege of going to a demo yesterday. Master potter Matt Long was the one doing the demo. I guess he's teaching at the University of Mississippi right now, as well as doing his own work. As the only novice potter in the group I was quite enamoured by what he was doing.
He often designs his pieces using slip, and, what appears to me, strong control over a goo-like medium.
He also made a really wonky looking teapot. Not bad-wonky, he did it on purpose. Though my mind kept thinking that it wasn't so practical for actually drinking tea, but he'd said that in the beginning, that practicality for drinking tea was not his purpose in making it.
What I find amazes me about potters, is that many of them seem much more like "smiths" than artists. It's like a smith that has full use of all the artistic vocabulary. Far more than the art girls I see wandering the halls. These men (and I'm sure there are women, too) own the words, these words are part of their everyday vocabulary, and yet the physical appearance doesn't match the assumed stereotype. These men do hard work, they get dirty, they don't exist in an existential land of finery. I love it! I wonder if it's just the 3-D mediums, or only some 3-D mediums or if it's "men" taking art for themselves (and there's nothing wrong with that).
I can see how mediums like clay can really draw in men, because it requires an understanding of math and chemistry as well as a physicality that mediums like painting don't. And, I've heard before, though it was mentioned again today, that it can satisfy different interests inside of you. Pottery (and perhaps glass, and wood, and metal) are multidisciplinary.
I'm also struck by how gentle and confident their hands are, and they seem perpetually patient. I have a hard time conceiving of potters screaming.
I wonder, do men feel free from the expectation of appearance, or is it that once they've come to a point where they're regularly selling their work that whether or not they look like people expect no longer matters to them?
Matt long also said a couple things I thought were kind of awesome while he was working on the wheel (and who can talk and do that at the same time? I can't even listen to music and do pottery) so I'm going to quote him now;
"You can do whatever you want to do if you're willing to do whatever it takes to get there."
"Happiness is worth a lot, so is your health."
"Why try so hard to ascribe concept to a coffee cup when its' a damn good coffee cup and people are going to love it?"
He sells his porcelain clay if you want to buy it. It seemed very obedient but I am too new at clay to know if that was a quality of the clay or of the potter's skill.
I also enjoyed hearing him talk about his home and family and enjoying life in Mississippi. Overall it was a very good demo and really really amazing to see him work and to see the way such a small community of individuals interact.
Here are a few more pictures from the event:
He often designs his pieces using slip, and, what appears to me, strong control over a goo-like medium.
He also made a really wonky looking teapot. Not bad-wonky, he did it on purpose. Though my mind kept thinking that it wasn't so practical for actually drinking tea, but he'd said that in the beginning, that practicality for drinking tea was not his purpose in making it.
What I find amazes me about potters, is that many of them seem much more like "smiths" than artists. It's like a smith that has full use of all the artistic vocabulary. Far more than the art girls I see wandering the halls. These men (and I'm sure there are women, too) own the words, these words are part of their everyday vocabulary, and yet the physical appearance doesn't match the assumed stereotype. These men do hard work, they get dirty, they don't exist in an existential land of finery. I love it! I wonder if it's just the 3-D mediums, or only some 3-D mediums or if it's "men" taking art for themselves (and there's nothing wrong with that).
I can see how mediums like clay can really draw in men, because it requires an understanding of math and chemistry as well as a physicality that mediums like painting don't. And, I've heard before, though it was mentioned again today, that it can satisfy different interests inside of you. Pottery (and perhaps glass, and wood, and metal) are multidisciplinary.
I'm also struck by how gentle and confident their hands are, and they seem perpetually patient. I have a hard time conceiving of potters screaming.
I wonder, do men feel free from the expectation of appearance, or is it that once they've come to a point where they're regularly selling their work that whether or not they look like people expect no longer matters to them?
Matt long also said a couple things I thought were kind of awesome while he was working on the wheel (and who can talk and do that at the same time? I can't even listen to music and do pottery) so I'm going to quote him now;
"You can do whatever you want to do if you're willing to do whatever it takes to get there."
"Happiness is worth a lot, so is your health."
"Why try so hard to ascribe concept to a coffee cup when its' a damn good coffee cup and people are going to love it?"
He sells his porcelain clay if you want to buy it. It seemed very obedient but I am too new at clay to know if that was a quality of the clay or of the potter's skill.
I also enjoyed hearing him talk about his home and family and enjoying life in Mississippi. Overall it was a very good demo and really really amazing to see him work and to see the way such a small community of individuals interact.
Here are a few more pictures from the event:
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Review of the $64 Tomato by William Alexander
I got this book from my local library a few days ago (in lieu of returning the other books). I may not make it through the *whole* book because I have 100+ pages of psych reading to do in the next few days but I wanted to give a review of it because the quality is evident.
Let me explain through a personal anecdote;
Yesterday, I went to my experimental psychology class; bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to study t-tests and one way ANOVAs. The professor spent most of the class talking about what could and could not constitute observational research. It was...I'm not going to say a waste of my time, no learning is a waste of my time, but it wasn't what I was expecting or interested in. Well, I thought, now would be a perfect time to read a bit more in that Expensive Tomato book. So, I pulled out the book, laid it open on my text book like a dirty magazine I didn't want to get caught with, and began reading. At one point, I read a line and began to choke. Now, I'm a front-row student, in an auditorium class, and it would be rude, and draw lots of attention, if I were to suddenly double over laughing while the professor is pointing out the downsides of archival research. So, instead I found myself snorting and choking, trying to hold in peels of joviality, and looking for all the world like I was having problems with breathing.
Later, when I was free from the class, and the day's restraints, I went to a pub, bought a beer, and read some more where no one would mind the occasional peal of laughter.
This is a wonderful book.
The writing is superb. This is what writing should be like. And yet, it has a fun wit, a hopefulness, and a fondness for life that most literary works thoroughly lack. It definitely leans more towards A.J. Jacobs territory in (memoir)humor, which I can't complain about since I also love .A.J. Jacobs books. Laughter is medicine for the soul, laughter and information, who could ask for better than that?
I find the sexual innuendo in the book to be wonderful and tactful and tactless at the same time. Being relatively low on the sexual activity scale myself, I find I have the humor of a 13 year-old boy, so this suited me quite well.
The fondness with which he speaks of his wife and his family and his life are deeply refreshing and encouraging.
I also find the information about gardening to be fun and interesting as I'm growing a garden of my own (I may not want to know what my own "overhead" is). He describes the highs and lows of that glorious and gorry dance called "gardening" with a comforting sense of awe, determination, and self-deprication.
And the voice, though the narrator is male, is one that I relate to without fail (it could be the writing is that good, it could be that all English majors think a little alike, it could be I wouldn't have picked up the book except that it struck a fraternal cord in me).
I find myself sad that I can't just put the book on my shelf to go back and pick up and read whenever I need information or a laugh. I find myself wanting to highlight the really witty or profound parts so I can quote them on facebook.
I may not have finished the book, but I already know the quality of it; very very high.
I give it a 4.6 of 5 stars.
 |
| Picture of the book The $64 Tomato by William Alexader, picture from NPR |
Let me explain through a personal anecdote;
Yesterday, I went to my experimental psychology class; bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to study t-tests and one way ANOVAs. The professor spent most of the class talking about what could and could not constitute observational research. It was...I'm not going to say a waste of my time, no learning is a waste of my time, but it wasn't what I was expecting or interested in. Well, I thought, now would be a perfect time to read a bit more in that Expensive Tomato book. So, I pulled out the book, laid it open on my text book like a dirty magazine I didn't want to get caught with, and began reading. At one point, I read a line and began to choke. Now, I'm a front-row student, in an auditorium class, and it would be rude, and draw lots of attention, if I were to suddenly double over laughing while the professor is pointing out the downsides of archival research. So, instead I found myself snorting and choking, trying to hold in peels of joviality, and looking for all the world like I was having problems with breathing.
Later, when I was free from the class, and the day's restraints, I went to a pub, bought a beer, and read some more where no one would mind the occasional peal of laughter.
This is a wonderful book.
The writing is superb. This is what writing should be like. And yet, it has a fun wit, a hopefulness, and a fondness for life that most literary works thoroughly lack. It definitely leans more towards A.J. Jacobs territory in (memoir)humor, which I can't complain about since I also love .A.J. Jacobs books. Laughter is medicine for the soul, laughter and information, who could ask for better than that?
I find the sexual innuendo in the book to be wonderful and tactful and tactless at the same time. Being relatively low on the sexual activity scale myself, I find I have the humor of a 13 year-old boy, so this suited me quite well.
The fondness with which he speaks of his wife and his family and his life are deeply refreshing and encouraging.
I also find the information about gardening to be fun and interesting as I'm growing a garden of my own (I may not want to know what my own "overhead" is). He describes the highs and lows of that glorious and gorry dance called "gardening" with a comforting sense of awe, determination, and self-deprication.
And the voice, though the narrator is male, is one that I relate to without fail (it could be the writing is that good, it could be that all English majors think a little alike, it could be I wouldn't have picked up the book except that it struck a fraternal cord in me).
I find myself sad that I can't just put the book on my shelf to go back and pick up and read whenever I need information or a laugh. I find myself wanting to highlight the really witty or profound parts so I can quote them on facebook.
I may not have finished the book, but I already know the quality of it; very very high.
I give it a 4.6 of 5 stars.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Burheim Forest
It's been a long day, a long week (emotionally). I could complain, but I bought a paper journal for that. I plan to burn it once it's full.
I spent some hours at Berheim forest today. Though, really, it feels more like an extensive park. Not that I'm complaining. I love it and have wanted to go back since I visited last summer for my painting class. It was just what my trite heartsickness needed. That and a healthy dose of JJ Heller music and some dripping out of that internal vitriol into the journal.
My latest art project is horrible. Horrible...might be too kind of a word. The only way it could be worse is if it were a blob of over-wet clay, or made to poorly resemble a penis. It's not done, I wasted all my clay on it. Critique is tomorrow.
Have I mentioned I'm a perfectionist?
So, when other people think "aw, shucks," my brain almost automatically goes to 'why is suicide a bad option?' (answer; "Because it always is. Any permanent solution to a temporary problem is a VERY BAD OPTION)
Now, I would call this a fit of pique, but that would be like calling a tsunami a "bit of a wave."
There's a reason I don't trust my own emotions, especially at first. This is pretty much why. I'm high affect intensity.
Get this, perfectionist and high affect intensity. Yeah, I know.
Now, 5 years ago an episode like this would have resulted in me being sucked into the miry black pit of despair for days, or giving up all together.
Now, I got to my car and cry, mope around for a few hours in the forest, and pick myself back up with a plan. That plan is to beg my professor to let me sit out of critique tomorrow and just start over, even if that means my last piece isn't fired.
There's more to the plan, but there was more to me being upset and that's just for me to know.
Berheim was lovely, even without much color, or warmth. Actually, I loved the cold weather because I didn't spend the entire time terrified of ticks. Ticks are, to me, what spiders are to most. They are, literally, the stuff of my nightmares. Anything to reduce the likelihood of those disease infested blood suckers attaching their armoured bodies to me is good in my book.
That said, the grasses were lovely, the pond was lovely, the gnarled twisted trees were lovely, the ground cover was lovely. It was nice. I saw birds I don't usually see. I got to read a bit in my psychology book, which made me feel productive, which is vital to making me feel not depressed and despairing.
I got to practice being mindful and in-the-moment.
The silent peaceful moment.
It was nice. I needed it. I hope to go back soon.
The evening ended with a chat on the phone with a friend and a red ale at the local micro-brewery.
This week has been rough on my psyche. I could complain, but I won't.
I spent some hours at Berheim forest today. Though, really, it feels more like an extensive park. Not that I'm complaining. I love it and have wanted to go back since I visited last summer for my painting class. It was just what my trite heartsickness needed. That and a healthy dose of JJ Heller music and some dripping out of that internal vitriol into the journal.
My latest art project is horrible. Horrible...might be too kind of a word. The only way it could be worse is if it were a blob of over-wet clay, or made to poorly resemble a penis. It's not done, I wasted all my clay on it. Critique is tomorrow.
Have I mentioned I'm a perfectionist?
So, when other people think "aw, shucks," my brain almost automatically goes to 'why is suicide a bad option?' (answer; "Because it always is. Any permanent solution to a temporary problem is a VERY BAD OPTION)
Now, I would call this a fit of pique, but that would be like calling a tsunami a "bit of a wave."
There's a reason I don't trust my own emotions, especially at first. This is pretty much why. I'm high affect intensity.
Get this, perfectionist and high affect intensity. Yeah, I know.
Now, 5 years ago an episode like this would have resulted in me being sucked into the miry black pit of despair for days, or giving up all together.
Now, I got to my car and cry, mope around for a few hours in the forest, and pick myself back up with a plan. That plan is to beg my professor to let me sit out of critique tomorrow and just start over, even if that means my last piece isn't fired.
There's more to the plan, but there was more to me being upset and that's just for me to know.
 |
| A picture of Bernheim from the Ky toursim website |
Berheim was lovely, even without much color, or warmth. Actually, I loved the cold weather because I didn't spend the entire time terrified of ticks. Ticks are, to me, what spiders are to most. They are, literally, the stuff of my nightmares. Anything to reduce the likelihood of those disease infested blood suckers attaching their armoured bodies to me is good in my book.
That said, the grasses were lovely, the pond was lovely, the gnarled twisted trees were lovely, the ground cover was lovely. It was nice. I saw birds I don't usually see. I got to read a bit in my psychology book, which made me feel productive, which is vital to making me feel not depressed and despairing.
I got to practice being mindful and in-the-moment.
The silent peaceful moment.
It was nice. I needed it. I hope to go back soon.
The evening ended with a chat on the phone with a friend and a red ale at the local micro-brewery.
This week has been rough on my psyche. I could complain, but I won't.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Review of a Dresen File Audio Book; Changes, by Jim Butcher, read by James Marsters
When I decided that it would be a good idea to listen to an audio book while I was on the stair machine, I was pretty excited. I mean, what's there not to be stoked about when you're both being active and getting to see a story inside your head? I picked up Changes because I already love the Dresden Files.
Do you hear me? I love them. They're witty and interesting, they flow along quickly, they're shockingly believable. The author does a great job of following the rules that his universe sets out and of suspending disbelief. The voice is awesome... Yeah, I love the books. I'm also fan of James Marsters. I had a crush on him for about half a decade. I lost that crush when I realized he'd spent his time on Buffy looking like a cross between a redneck and an undead hipster, and that he has a terrible British accent (and I promptly outgrew him), but I still like to watch all the shows and movies he's in, and see convention footage and I thoroughly enjoyed him in Smallville and on Torchwood.
Sooooo, I thought that this would be a perfect marriage, Butcher and Marsters.
I was wrong.
I squealed in glee to hear "sexy voice" voicing Harry Dresden...until I realized the voice didn't change. It...it didn't change. This, this was not a dramatic reading. This was a strait reading. A boring boring strait reading of an awesome text.
By chapter three I was starting to screech "What?! Come on man! Use those acting chops!" as I gasped out an inconsistent stucco on the stair machine.
By chapter 4 I gave up. I couldn't do it. Marsters' reading had successfully reduced a series that mesmerises me into something that could put me to sleep. I put the CD back in its case (very glad, now, that I'd never given into that whim and spent money on buying a Marsters' read Dresden book) and took it back to the library.
Just because we're grown ups doesn't mean we don't appreciate a good dramatic reading of a story. If we didn't the Lord of the Rings movies wouldn't be so very popular.
Overall, I give the reading a 2 out of 5 stars. It could have been blander, it could have been read at a really inconsistent pace, which it wasn't. But, I didn't like it, and didn't enjoy it. Hard core Marsters' fans will love it. I think most everyone else will be a bit disappointed. Ah well. You win some you lose some.
The book itself gets a 4.2 out of 5 stars. That's only because there are some truly life changing books out there, but this one is still pretty awesome.
Do you hear me? I love them. They're witty and interesting, they flow along quickly, they're shockingly believable. The author does a great job of following the rules that his universe sets out and of suspending disbelief. The voice is awesome... Yeah, I love the books. I'm also fan of James Marsters. I had a crush on him for about half a decade. I lost that crush when I realized he'd spent his time on Buffy looking like a cross between a redneck and an undead hipster, and that he has a terrible British accent (and I promptly outgrew him), but I still like to watch all the shows and movies he's in, and see convention footage and I thoroughly enjoyed him in Smallville and on Torchwood.
Sooooo, I thought that this would be a perfect marriage, Butcher and Marsters.
I was wrong.
I squealed in glee to hear "sexy voice" voicing Harry Dresden...until I realized the voice didn't change. It...it didn't change. This, this was not a dramatic reading. This was a strait reading. A boring boring strait reading of an awesome text.
By chapter three I was starting to screech "What?! Come on man! Use those acting chops!" as I gasped out an inconsistent stucco on the stair machine.
By chapter 4 I gave up. I couldn't do it. Marsters' reading had successfully reduced a series that mesmerises me into something that could put me to sleep. I put the CD back in its case (very glad, now, that I'd never given into that whim and spent money on buying a Marsters' read Dresden book) and took it back to the library.
Just because we're grown ups doesn't mean we don't appreciate a good dramatic reading of a story. If we didn't the Lord of the Rings movies wouldn't be so very popular.
Overall, I give the reading a 2 out of 5 stars. It could have been blander, it could have been read at a really inconsistent pace, which it wasn't. But, I didn't like it, and didn't enjoy it. Hard core Marsters' fans will love it. I think most everyone else will be a bit disappointed. Ah well. You win some you lose some.
The book itself gets a 4.2 out of 5 stars. That's only because there are some truly life changing books out there, but this one is still pretty awesome.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Review for Burning Alive by Shannon K. Butcher
Yes, I read a romance novel. So sue me. I spent an hour perusing books in the library trying to find one where the plot didn't make me snort and a few pages I could actually make it through.
The positives;
It's an ambitiously detailed story. No pwp here.
The dialogue is better than the dialogue of the other romance novels I'd been perusing.
It's not pwp.
The "voices" of the characters are reasonably consistent.
The negatives:
Let's start with the cover. The cover above is the one on the book I read. It is a horrible photomanip. What are the spikes on his arms? Oh, wait, are those supposed to be the branches of the tree that does down only one side of his body? And his hair is supposed to be either wavy or curly (can't remember) but it's not that mullet. Also, he's supposed to have a silver choker on through most of the book. Did we forget that super important part?
The book. Okay, I understand the need for suspended disbelief, I really do, but you have to establish the rules of your world, and do it as fast as possible. I feel as if the author said "rules, I don't need no stinking rules!" and the story really suffers for it.
We start off with a character who seems like she could be interesting, I mean, she's been having these terrible dreams about being burnt alive and this dude looking on and laughing about it and then there's the dude. Cue freaking out. Reasonably so. Except, the guy comes over, and he and his friends manhandle her elderly friend (who's name...Miss Mable I think, got really old after about the 20th time it was said. She's not a Miss, she's 80, and we don't live in the 70's. I mean, apparently the main character didn't even know the woman's first name, which is lame for a caregiver) and her "cool" friend.
Also, the "panic attacks" that she kept experiencing were not at all like panic attacks as I know them, which always pisses me off, when books project panic attacks in ways that are not real to life. First of all, it's not just about breathing, it's about this overwhelming FEAR response, and eventually the fear of the fear. It's an ugly fear cycle that sucks you down in some of kind vicious black undercurrent. I was also bothered because having a panic disorder and being a coward are not the same thing, and yet, in this book, they seemed to be.
Trust and sexual tension didn't build too fast, but it was still unbelievable. The lack of voicing concerns even when the situation gave the opportunity for it was also irritating. The love interest (Blane?) was irritating both in his aggression, his conviction to leave the heroine (I may have misspelled that word) completely in the dark, and then tell her everything, and then mind-f*** her.
The heroine (again, possibly misspelled) was also bothersome in that she didn't...think like a normal person. There was just a lot (like the vampires/witches) that wasn't explained. A lot that presumed on the reader having extensive supernatural knowledge. And, then, I had this moment where the protagonist (there I can spell that word) was all like "I'm psychic? I didn't know it! I mean, that can't be possible, I've only been having these visions for years which I was totally sure were real and I'm being chased by fire, and man, I saw you coming, like, two years before I met you. But I can't be psychic. I just know the phone is going to ring sometimes." And then, "Woah! I can lift a big rock! I haz soopurpowrz!" It was such a disgustingly ...marrysue? moment that I almost put down the book. If the author's bid, and I'm sure it was, was to give the readers a moment where they thought they could be the protagonist, that was it. She chose something that almost everyone experiences and said it was really special, except the effort was really transparent and so it felt like a gimmick.
The mythology was troublesome. It was like the author tried to throw an entire book series' worth of mythology at us in one book. The bit about "they're what you call demons" was irritating. If they are what we call demons, call them demons, don't give them a new name. If they're like what we call demons but different, or our understanding of them is fundamentally flawed, explain. Each chapter seemed to add new mythology without explaining, or with barely an explanation of, the old. The stuff about breeding the protagonist stank of a number of other mythos, and felt tagged on. The main characters themselves seemed to be a mix of Feehan's Carpathians and another author I've read but am too tired to recall, some kind of eternal guardian... Anyway, it's not that taking things from leaders in the genre is bad, it's not, but it has to feel like your own work, or the nod to the inspiration has to be obvious.
I stopped reading after the friend committed suicide, which was already probably 50 pages later than I should have. The sex scene was not sexy. The bathroom scene was kind of sexy but totally different than all the other sexual tension scenes.
This brings me to another point. The voices were fairly consistent but the characters themselves were not. The male protagonist especially often changed gears or attitudes without so much as a by your leave to the readers. Not cool. And, for a guy who is really really really old, he has pretty modern (read; selfish and kinky) ideas about sex.
I never finished the book, I wasn't going to waste my time on another 100 pages when more than 200 hadn't been enough to keep me reading.
I really wanted this to be a good book. But it wasn't.
If I was giving it a rating it would get a 2.5 of 5 stars. It could have been worse.
The positives;
It's an ambitiously detailed story. No pwp here.
The dialogue is better than the dialogue of the other romance novels I'd been perusing.
It's not pwp.
The "voices" of the characters are reasonably consistent.
The negatives:
Let's start with the cover. The cover above is the one on the book I read. It is a horrible photomanip. What are the spikes on his arms? Oh, wait, are those supposed to be the branches of the tree that does down only one side of his body? And his hair is supposed to be either wavy or curly (can't remember) but it's not that mullet. Also, he's supposed to have a silver choker on through most of the book. Did we forget that super important part?
The book. Okay, I understand the need for suspended disbelief, I really do, but you have to establish the rules of your world, and do it as fast as possible. I feel as if the author said "rules, I don't need no stinking rules!" and the story really suffers for it.
We start off with a character who seems like she could be interesting, I mean, she's been having these terrible dreams about being burnt alive and this dude looking on and laughing about it and then there's the dude. Cue freaking out. Reasonably so. Except, the guy comes over, and he and his friends manhandle her elderly friend (who's name...Miss Mable I think, got really old after about the 20th time it was said. She's not a Miss, she's 80, and we don't live in the 70's. I mean, apparently the main character didn't even know the woman's first name, which is lame for a caregiver) and her "cool" friend.
Also, the "panic attacks" that she kept experiencing were not at all like panic attacks as I know them, which always pisses me off, when books project panic attacks in ways that are not real to life. First of all, it's not just about breathing, it's about this overwhelming FEAR response, and eventually the fear of the fear. It's an ugly fear cycle that sucks you down in some of kind vicious black undercurrent. I was also bothered because having a panic disorder and being a coward are not the same thing, and yet, in this book, they seemed to be.
Trust and sexual tension didn't build too fast, but it was still unbelievable. The lack of voicing concerns even when the situation gave the opportunity for it was also irritating. The love interest (Blane?) was irritating both in his aggression, his conviction to leave the heroine (I may have misspelled that word) completely in the dark, and then tell her everything, and then mind-f*** her.
The heroine (again, possibly misspelled) was also bothersome in that she didn't...think like a normal person. There was just a lot (like the vampires/witches) that wasn't explained. A lot that presumed on the reader having extensive supernatural knowledge. And, then, I had this moment where the protagonist (there I can spell that word) was all like "I'm psychic? I didn't know it! I mean, that can't be possible, I've only been having these visions for years which I was totally sure were real and I'm being chased by fire, and man, I saw you coming, like, two years before I met you. But I can't be psychic. I just know the phone is going to ring sometimes." And then, "Woah! I can lift a big rock! I haz soopurpowrz!" It was such a disgustingly ...marrysue? moment that I almost put down the book. If the author's bid, and I'm sure it was, was to give the readers a moment where they thought they could be the protagonist, that was it. She chose something that almost everyone experiences and said it was really special, except the effort was really transparent and so it felt like a gimmick.
The mythology was troublesome. It was like the author tried to throw an entire book series' worth of mythology at us in one book. The bit about "they're what you call demons" was irritating. If they are what we call demons, call them demons, don't give them a new name. If they're like what we call demons but different, or our understanding of them is fundamentally flawed, explain. Each chapter seemed to add new mythology without explaining, or with barely an explanation of, the old. The stuff about breeding the protagonist stank of a number of other mythos, and felt tagged on. The main characters themselves seemed to be a mix of Feehan's Carpathians and another author I've read but am too tired to recall, some kind of eternal guardian... Anyway, it's not that taking things from leaders in the genre is bad, it's not, but it has to feel like your own work, or the nod to the inspiration has to be obvious.
I stopped reading after the friend committed suicide, which was already probably 50 pages later than I should have. The sex scene was not sexy. The bathroom scene was kind of sexy but totally different than all the other sexual tension scenes.
This brings me to another point. The voices were fairly consistent but the characters themselves were not. The male protagonist especially often changed gears or attitudes without so much as a by your leave to the readers. Not cool. And, for a guy who is really really really old, he has pretty modern (read; selfish and kinky) ideas about sex.
I never finished the book, I wasn't going to waste my time on another 100 pages when more than 200 hadn't been enough to keep me reading.
I really wanted this to be a good book. But it wasn't.
If I was giving it a rating it would get a 2.5 of 5 stars. It could have been worse.
New Computer and Some New Goals
So, my other computer died on the day I got this new computer. That is, yesterday. So, I have a new doorstop and a new laptop.
I have some goals for this new computer. First, I want to keep it as pristine as possible. Only the most neccessary programs (eg, Word, iTunes, my GPS updater, minesweeper...). I'm going to seriously reconsider whether I should do any of the "fixing" updates that Windows was always doing on my
old computer. I think it may just slow things down. I also want to continue to back everything up and/or save everything on my external hard drive.
Also, I don't want to go to Yahoo on this computer. I don't want it in my computer history. I don't want it anywhere. It's a trash site. It's like the Enquirer of online sites. Except it's taken seriously. It's like US Weekly, the Enquirer, and the New York Times had a disgusting mutant internet baby. That baby is Yahoo.
And, the Yahoo comments section mostly makes me lose my hope in humanity. I gave up television because it was a negative and time-sucking influence on me. I plan to do the same with Yahoo.
My other goal is to go to the store and buy a real physical journal. One just for journaling, not writing story ideas or taking notes or writing directions or shoping lists, though those are all good things. That's because I want to be free to write non-incriminating stuff on this blog and I find it very hard to only write some things. Like speaking, I want to write everything. Everything is going to come out at some point, so I have to filter where certain things go. And, since blogger doesn't let me limit my viewers (that I know of, tell me if I can), and I'm too lazy to write on three blogs (also, can't even remember the last time I wrote on LiveJournal; got tired of everyone talking about the communities and having no idea how to get into the "in" groups), this will be perfect. I can write all the angsty stuff on paper, aka secret, when I'm in the angsty moment, and then I can write the less angsty stuff here, where the world will read it. Yay for solutions!
I have some goals for this new computer. First, I want to keep it as pristine as possible. Only the most neccessary programs (eg, Word, iTunes, my GPS updater, minesweeper...). I'm going to seriously reconsider whether I should do any of the "fixing" updates that Windows was always doing on my old computer. I think it may just slow things down. I also want to continue to back everything up and/or save everything on my external hard drive.
Also, I don't want to go to Yahoo on this computer. I don't want it in my computer history. I don't want it anywhere. It's a trash site. It's like the Enquirer of online sites. Except it's taken seriously. It's like US Weekly, the Enquirer, and the New York Times had a disgusting mutant internet baby. That baby is Yahoo.
And, the Yahoo comments section mostly makes me lose my hope in humanity. I gave up television because it was a negative and time-sucking influence on me. I plan to do the same with Yahoo.
My other goal is to go to the store and buy a real physical journal. One just for journaling, not writing story ideas or taking notes or writing directions or shoping lists, though those are all good things. That's because I want to be free to write non-incriminating stuff on this blog and I find it very hard to only write some things. Like speaking, I want to write everything. Everything is going to come out at some point, so I have to filter where certain things go. And, since blogger doesn't let me limit my viewers (that I know of, tell me if I can), and I'm too lazy to write on three blogs (also, can't even remember the last time I wrote on LiveJournal; got tired of everyone talking about the communities and having no idea how to get into the "in" groups), this will be perfect. I can write all the angsty stuff on paper, aka secret, when I'm in the angsty moment, and then I can write the less angsty stuff here, where the world will read it. Yay for solutions!
Easter '13
Happy Easter everyone.
Easter is definitely my favorite holiday. I love the preparation. 40+ days of fasting culminates in a lot of excitement about Easter!
Should I ever have the opportunity to celebrate Easter in my own fashion, rather than following my parents' interestes, I will make it into an all day event. Palm Sunday will be celebrated. Good Friday will not be skipped. The meal will be savory and wonderful, full of variety. There will be eggs painted. I will find other activities, too. Music will play in the background. It will be awesome.
A celebration befitting the day we commemorate what it is that makes Christianity special.
____________________________________________________________________________
The day itself was very nice. I managed to get to the 9:15 service (though, sadly, I missed the music) and sat with my community group. I like sitting with them, and where, before, I thought I would never want to sit with a group or participate in church as a social event, I can definitely say that it feels nice to sit with and worship with people who I know, and like, and trust.
The sermon was very good. And, it was then that I realized whe music and sermon were short; baptistms!
Wow, to be baptised on Easter. Intense.
Then to the parents for supper (dinner? lunch? the afternoon meal?) and later to home.
Easter is definitely my favorite holiday. I love the preparation. 40+ days of fasting culminates in a lot of excitement about Easter!
Should I ever have the opportunity to celebrate Easter in my own fashion, rather than following my parents' interestes, I will make it into an all day event. Palm Sunday will be celebrated. Good Friday will not be skipped. The meal will be savory and wonderful, full of variety. There will be eggs painted. I will find other activities, too. Music will play in the background. It will be awesome.
A celebration befitting the day we commemorate what it is that makes Christianity special.
____________________________________________________________________________
The day itself was very nice. I managed to get to the 9:15 service (though, sadly, I missed the music) and sat with my community group. I like sitting with them, and where, before, I thought I would never want to sit with a group or participate in church as a social event, I can definitely say that it feels nice to sit with and worship with people who I know, and like, and trust.
The sermon was very good. And, it was then that I realized whe music and sermon were short; baptistms!
Wow, to be baptised on Easter. Intense.
Then to the parents for supper (dinner? lunch? the afternoon meal?) and later to home.
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