Yes, it's the same test. Pipe down... it's not over yet. Just wait up for the third part of this experiment, and I should have the entire explanation there.
Now there's the question of what I can do in the meantime. It's boring, waiting for Blogger to do something within a fairly long span of time.
I just know that that yo-yo's around here somewhere...
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Testing, One...
Yes, I'm testing something on the blog right now. Just give it till around lunchtime tomorrow morning, and the purpose of this entire exercise should be revealed.
...That is, if it works as expected.
...That is, if it works as expected.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Change or Die
I first got the news on the way home last Thursday night. It seemed that one of the larger clients of my mother's bakeshop decided to "modernize" themselves and put together a new company-wide computer system (with a corresponding IT department). That meant that they were presumably moving any and all of their transactions to the digital world, post-haste.
That also meant that my mother landed in a meeting (along with the company's other suppliers) on Thursday. There, a young corporate hotshot told everyone, in no uncertain terms, that they were going to start placing their orders online starting on the first of August. Every supplier had to find the capacity to receive this client's orders via e-mail; otherwise they would get dropped.
I heard that there were quite a few complaints as a result; we are talking about a number of small-time suppliers here. In the end, however, everyone apparently left to their own devices, each one trying to figure out how to put together a full-blown IT setup in little more than a week.
In our case, however, the bakeshop only has one person who can vaguely be considered an IT consultant -- me. And when you're talking about pulling something like this together in a few days, there's very little time to bring anyone else in to help.
Fortunately, it looked like the whole thing wouldn't require more than a very basic setup. All that the accounts staff needed, I said, was a desktop computer and an Internet connection, and this would be far more efficient than getting someone to pass by an Internet café at least three times a day. Then there was the need for a printer (in order to maintain proper records), possibly a surge protector of some sort, and an increase in monthly expenses for both electricity and Internet. In short, we were looking at a total outlay of about fifty to sixty thousand pesos, with a little above a thousand pesos per month afterwards.
For a tiny bakeshop, this was much like prospecting for gold on the moon.
So if I've been doing anything for the past few days, I've been plotting out some cheaper alternatives. Getting a brand-new computer may now be out of the question, for instance, so I'm looking for relatives from whom we can beg or borrow the components. Assuming that we can find someone who's willing to give it away, an old laptop would be perfect for our purposes -- we wouldn't need to assemble the various bits and pieces from a sales warehouse, and it would be far easier to lock up at night for security reasons. In case we can't acquire such a laptop, I've found an old CPU that we can use, but it'll still need the other essentials -- a monitor, a bunch of cables and so forth -- in order to work.
The Internet connection is a little more difficult to iron out. The DSL services that I know of -- PLDT and Globelines -- normally have a waiting period; it'll take them some time before they can drop by and set up. The Bell Telecom connection that I use at home has a lot better service (as they're perfectly willing to put things together within one or two days of our call), but they remain the most expensive option on our list. I'm probably going to check and see if anyone still offers dial-up services out there, and even then that'll mean that I'll need to hunt down a modem that we can use. In any event, the resulting connection will definitely tie up one of the bakeshop's phone lines.
If my prices are the way I expect them to be, I don't expect that a printer will set us back too much. If anything, the prices for authentic ink cartridges are more likely to hit us harder than the printer itself. A surge protector shouldn't be too much of an issue, and there's already a budget for typewriting paper, so that's fine. I no longer advocate the use of diskettes as proper storage media at this point in time, but a low-end flashdisk shouldn't be too expensive either.
Then there's the incidentals: I'll need to check the bakeshop's electrical outlets to see if we have enough to run the computer; I've gotten a few contacts who can perform reformatting, reinstallation and repairs if needed; and I'll probably reserve my time for a couple of days to make sure that the accounts staff knows how to work the darn thing.
For a few minutes I also considered how much time and effort it would take to send that young corporate hotshot a viral bomb, to show him what I thought of his "modernization efforts". But I figure that it wasn't entirely his fault, and that it was the corporation itself that spent three years setting up its IT system only to let us know barely a week before its launch. It's unjust, and it's got horrible timing... but when we're up against twenty-odd suppliers who have to cope with the change, and I'd rather do something constructive rather than complain.
Besides, there'll be plenty of time for petty concerns after we finish the new IT setup. It'll give me something to look forward to, in any case.
That also meant that my mother landed in a meeting (along with the company's other suppliers) on Thursday. There, a young corporate hotshot told everyone, in no uncertain terms, that they were going to start placing their orders online starting on the first of August. Every supplier had to find the capacity to receive this client's orders via e-mail; otherwise they would get dropped.
I heard that there were quite a few complaints as a result; we are talking about a number of small-time suppliers here. In the end, however, everyone apparently left to their own devices, each one trying to figure out how to put together a full-blown IT setup in little more than a week.
In our case, however, the bakeshop only has one person who can vaguely be considered an IT consultant -- me. And when you're talking about pulling something like this together in a few days, there's very little time to bring anyone else in to help.
Fortunately, it looked like the whole thing wouldn't require more than a very basic setup. All that the accounts staff needed, I said, was a desktop computer and an Internet connection, and this would be far more efficient than getting someone to pass by an Internet café at least three times a day. Then there was the need for a printer (in order to maintain proper records), possibly a surge protector of some sort, and an increase in monthly expenses for both electricity and Internet. In short, we were looking at a total outlay of about fifty to sixty thousand pesos, with a little above a thousand pesos per month afterwards.
For a tiny bakeshop, this was much like prospecting for gold on the moon.
So if I've been doing anything for the past few days, I've been plotting out some cheaper alternatives. Getting a brand-new computer may now be out of the question, for instance, so I'm looking for relatives from whom we can beg or borrow the components. Assuming that we can find someone who's willing to give it away, an old laptop would be perfect for our purposes -- we wouldn't need to assemble the various bits and pieces from a sales warehouse, and it would be far easier to lock up at night for security reasons. In case we can't acquire such a laptop, I've found an old CPU that we can use, but it'll still need the other essentials -- a monitor, a bunch of cables and so forth -- in order to work.
The Internet connection is a little more difficult to iron out. The DSL services that I know of -- PLDT and Globelines -- normally have a waiting period; it'll take them some time before they can drop by and set up. The Bell Telecom connection that I use at home has a lot better service (as they're perfectly willing to put things together within one or two days of our call), but they remain the most expensive option on our list. I'm probably going to check and see if anyone still offers dial-up services out there, and even then that'll mean that I'll need to hunt down a modem that we can use. In any event, the resulting connection will definitely tie up one of the bakeshop's phone lines.
If my prices are the way I expect them to be, I don't expect that a printer will set us back too much. If anything, the prices for authentic ink cartridges are more likely to hit us harder than the printer itself. A surge protector shouldn't be too much of an issue, and there's already a budget for typewriting paper, so that's fine. I no longer advocate the use of diskettes as proper storage media at this point in time, but a low-end flashdisk shouldn't be too expensive either.
Then there's the incidentals: I'll need to check the bakeshop's electrical outlets to see if we have enough to run the computer; I've gotten a few contacts who can perform reformatting, reinstallation and repairs if needed; and I'll probably reserve my time for a couple of days to make sure that the accounts staff knows how to work the darn thing.
For a few minutes I also considered how much time and effort it would take to send that young corporate hotshot a viral bomb, to show him what I thought of his "modernization efforts". But I figure that it wasn't entirely his fault, and that it was the corporation itself that spent three years setting up its IT system only to let us know barely a week before its launch. It's unjust, and it's got horrible timing... but when we're up against twenty-odd suppliers who have to cope with the change, and I'd rather do something constructive rather than complain.
Besides, there'll be plenty of time for petty concerns after we finish the new IT setup. It'll give me something to look forward to, in any case.
We'll Be Right Back...
Yes, I know... my rate of posting has declined all of a sudden. That's because things are hectic right now -- I just spent a substantial amount of my Saturday running errands.
Now, exactly why I would spend a substantial amount of my Saturday running errands is an interesting story by itself. I'll put it up in a future post, if only because this is the sort of thing that can be told as either a strange anecdote, a step-by-step analysis, or a vituperative rant. In short, it'll probably be worth reading.
Yes, it involves technology. Yes, it involves my own style of shopping. Yes, it involves business in some way.
No, I'm not going to tell you the story now. It's almost three in the morning, for goodness' sakes. It'll still be in my head tomorrow, I hope.
Now, exactly why I would spend a substantial amount of my Saturday running errands is an interesting story by itself. I'll put it up in a future post, if only because this is the sort of thing that can be told as either a strange anecdote, a step-by-step analysis, or a vituperative rant. In short, it'll probably be worth reading.
Yes, it involves technology. Yes, it involves my own style of shopping. Yes, it involves business in some way.
No, I'm not going to tell you the story now. It's almost three in the morning, for goodness' sakes. It'll still be in my head tomorrow, I hope.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Prophetic Blues
There seems to be an e-mail circulating around the local webgroups about some earthquake that's supposed to hit the Philippines on July 18. (Hey... that's today, isn't it?) It's purportedly been predicted by a Brazilian psychic named Jucelino Nobrega da Luz, right down to the intensity 8.1 measure.
As much as I'd like to post the transcript of the e-mail here, I don't have it. Maybe my mailing lists were sophisticated enough to take it from a rational point of view. Maybe word has gotten out that I don't like getting forwarded mail. Whatever the case, I can't denounce anything that doesn't exist in my book.
Instead, I'll note an interesting little web site that was brought to my attention by the esteemed Speaketh-ed Geeketh, one that contains a translated version of all of da Luz's predictions for 2008. That way, you can believe or disbelieve it as you will.. even if over half the year has passed without so much as ten percent of his predictions coming true. It's an interesting exercise in cold-reading and misdirection, although the stranger ones (such as an infestation of spiders in Brazil) imply that he can be creative at times.
What I find interesting about this particular "prediction" is that it has apparently made it to the news. I arrived home close to midnight tonight and turned on the TV to find a couple of stations featuring the ubiquitous e-mail. That, I suppose, proves one thing -- today was a very slow news day.
I've denounced similar "predictions" before, of course. One of them, in fact, made it to this blog a couple of years ago. My attitude towards them before was just as surly as my attitude towards them right now.
What surprises me, however, is the number of people who have raised their opinions in disbelief. The reason why I don't have an e-mail to show you right now is that I can't find one. Nothing has shown up for me in Google so far, for instance. All I can see is a few news articles on da Luz (including one that points him out as a fraud on Japanese television), plus a couple of blogs that have also voiced their skeptical opinions.
And that's interesting, because it implies that we're getting more mature when it comes to technology. We're no longer taking anonymous e-mails at face value. We're not exactly falling into the trap of mass hysteria. We're no longer getting taken in by just any statement that appears on our cellphones, or computer screens, or television sets.
Oh, there's still quite a bit of naiveté out there, but I find this to be a good sign more often than not. We've got more important things to worry about, after all, than some spurious self-aggrandizing "prophecy" written by a man who doesn't even have much of a batting average.
As much as I'd like to post the transcript of the e-mail here, I don't have it. Maybe my mailing lists were sophisticated enough to take it from a rational point of view. Maybe word has gotten out that I don't like getting forwarded mail. Whatever the case, I can't denounce anything that doesn't exist in my book.
Instead, I'll note an interesting little web site that was brought to my attention by the esteemed Speaketh-ed Geeketh, one that contains a translated version of all of da Luz's predictions for 2008. That way, you can believe or disbelieve it as you will.. even if over half the year has passed without so much as ten percent of his predictions coming true. It's an interesting exercise in cold-reading and misdirection, although the stranger ones (such as an infestation of spiders in Brazil) imply that he can be creative at times.
What I find interesting about this particular "prediction" is that it has apparently made it to the news. I arrived home close to midnight tonight and turned on the TV to find a couple of stations featuring the ubiquitous e-mail. That, I suppose, proves one thing -- today was a very slow news day.
I've denounced similar "predictions" before, of course. One of them, in fact, made it to this blog a couple of years ago. My attitude towards them before was just as surly as my attitude towards them right now.
What surprises me, however, is the number of people who have raised their opinions in disbelief. The reason why I don't have an e-mail to show you right now is that I can't find one. Nothing has shown up for me in Google so far, for instance. All I can see is a few news articles on da Luz (including one that points him out as a fraud on Japanese television), plus a couple of blogs that have also voiced their skeptical opinions.
And that's interesting, because it implies that we're getting more mature when it comes to technology. We're no longer taking anonymous e-mails at face value. We're not exactly falling into the trap of mass hysteria. We're no longer getting taken in by just any statement that appears on our cellphones, or computer screens, or television sets.
Oh, there's still quite a bit of naiveté out there, but I find this to be a good sign more often than not. We've got more important things to worry about, after all, than some spurious self-aggrandizing "prophecy" written by a man who doesn't even have much of a batting average.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
How the Other Half Lives
As of last night, unfortunately, we found that my brother wasn't able to take the Sony VAIO model spot. I'm not sure if we're allowed to reveal the winners yet, but I think it'll suffice to say that the winner for the blue line seemed like a very enthusiastic person. I'm sure that he'll do wonders for the product line.
On the other hand, I did end up more than a little disappointed last night. This was because Sony decided to hold a three-hour performance in order to wrap up the promotion. As a result, my tiny conservative family got to attend a closed event area down at the local promenade, along with what were presumably the families of the other contest finalists. The result was what seemed to be an indifferently-organized nightclub fete / fashion show that started late and left us wondering exactly what the point to the whole thing was.
Our evening started at about a quarter to seven, because the invite had told us that the event was starting at seven. When the hour came and went, the seats were only half-filled and we figured that maybe we were waiting for the other guests to arrive. Twenty minutes later, they began serving the hors d'oeuvres. Thirty minutes later, we had all received full helpings and they were reduced to playing and replaying an on-screen video sequence. The fact that a loud obnoxious voice kept announcing the various colors of the VAIO line -- five times in total! -- did not help much.
Finally, at about 8:20, Sony kicked off the event with a song. "And I'm Telling You (I'm Not Going)" is a fair favorite, and last night it was sung by a artist in a gold-colored dress. After a while, I began thinking that the event was going to be enjoyable after all. Then she started belting out a disco version of the song, which appalled me because -- the last time I checked -- its lyrics evoked tragedy and rejection. For the next ten minutes, all I could do was stare.
Then we were treated to some light banter from the show's hosts (Igi and Francesca from Monster Radio 93.1), a very brief speech from the head of Sony Philippines (who instantly became one of my favorite people), and a catwalk-type march from each of the twenty-four finalists (who included Camy Francisco, an artist/blogger acquaintance from way back). Mentally, I found myself taking a few bets on who was likely to make it.
Then Sandwich came on, and for me, the rock band represented every single thing that I felt about the evening. I'm not a fan of indie rock, much less punk rock or whatever people call it nowadays -- so their three songs didn't strike me as a good experience. The fact that their music had little in the way of actual melody, that the performance was loud enough to strike us deaf for the next hour, that at one point their lead singer threw an arrogant obscenity at the audience -- well, all I can say is that I'm not a fan. They have their own definition of music, I have mine, and the two of them just didn't intersect.
Looking out at the audience last night, though -- about half of whom I expect were parents and older businessmen -- I wondered exactly who planned the event, and what made them think it was a good idea to bring up new wave music. Maybe it's a normal occurrence for the f-word to get bandied around indie performances, but this didn't strike me as an appropriate venue. (Of course, Sandwich and their contemporaries would probably hardly care about this, but hey, it's just an opinion.)
The awarding ceremonies came immediately afterwards (shortly after another very brief speech from another Sony senior manager -- did I mention that these were some of my favorite people?), and with the main event done, Igi and Francesca closed off the night. I was so relieved afterwards that I offered to put up the family for dinner at a nearby restaurant, where we spent our time convalescing from the event.
I suppose that this is why I don't spend my time at nightclubs, much less in the company of alternative music. While I can probably imagine exactly how crowds of other interests can gather and congregate at venues like these, I just happen to be a quiet, sedate man who writes. And works technology. And plays games.
I'm thankful for the evening, though, despite the fact that I didn't have much of a good time. Sometimes it's useful to head outside your own comfort zones and see what the rest of the world is like, I think... even if it does involve iced tea, disco music and shouted obscenities.
That said, I was still deaf for at least an hour into dinner. You'll have to speak up a bit if you want to leave any comments. :)
On the other hand, I did end up more than a little disappointed last night. This was because Sony decided to hold a three-hour performance in order to wrap up the promotion. As a result, my tiny conservative family got to attend a closed event area down at the local promenade, along with what were presumably the families of the other contest finalists. The result was what seemed to be an indifferently-organized nightclub fete / fashion show that started late and left us wondering exactly what the point to the whole thing was.
Our evening started at about a quarter to seven, because the invite had told us that the event was starting at seven. When the hour came and went, the seats were only half-filled and we figured that maybe we were waiting for the other guests to arrive. Twenty minutes later, they began serving the hors d'oeuvres. Thirty minutes later, we had all received full helpings and they were reduced to playing and replaying an on-screen video sequence. The fact that a loud obnoxious voice kept announcing the various colors of the VAIO line -- five times in total! -- did not help much.
Finally, at about 8:20, Sony kicked off the event with a song. "And I'm Telling You (I'm Not Going)" is a fair favorite, and last night it was sung by a artist in a gold-colored dress. After a while, I began thinking that the event was going to be enjoyable after all. Then she started belting out a disco version of the song, which appalled me because -- the last time I checked -- its lyrics evoked tragedy and rejection. For the next ten minutes, all I could do was stare.
Then we were treated to some light banter from the show's hosts (Igi and Francesca from Monster Radio 93.1), a very brief speech from the head of Sony Philippines (who instantly became one of my favorite people), and a catwalk-type march from each of the twenty-four finalists (who included Camy Francisco, an artist/blogger acquaintance from way back). Mentally, I found myself taking a few bets on who was likely to make it.
Then Sandwich came on, and for me, the rock band represented every single thing that I felt about the evening. I'm not a fan of indie rock, much less punk rock or whatever people call it nowadays -- so their three songs didn't strike me as a good experience. The fact that their music had little in the way of actual melody, that the performance was loud enough to strike us deaf for the next hour, that at one point their lead singer threw an arrogant obscenity at the audience -- well, all I can say is that I'm not a fan. They have their own definition of music, I have mine, and the two of them just didn't intersect.
Looking out at the audience last night, though -- about half of whom I expect were parents and older businessmen -- I wondered exactly who planned the event, and what made them think it was a good idea to bring up new wave music. Maybe it's a normal occurrence for the f-word to get bandied around indie performances, but this didn't strike me as an appropriate venue. (Of course, Sandwich and their contemporaries would probably hardly care about this, but hey, it's just an opinion.)
The awarding ceremonies came immediately afterwards (shortly after another very brief speech from another Sony senior manager -- did I mention that these were some of my favorite people?), and with the main event done, Igi and Francesca closed off the night. I was so relieved afterwards that I offered to put up the family for dinner at a nearby restaurant, where we spent our time convalescing from the event.
I suppose that this is why I don't spend my time at nightclubs, much less in the company of alternative music. While I can probably imagine exactly how crowds of other interests can gather and congregate at venues like these, I just happen to be a quiet, sedate man who writes. And works technology. And plays games.
I'm thankful for the evening, though, despite the fact that I didn't have much of a good time. Sometimes it's useful to head outside your own comfort zones and see what the rest of the world is like, I think... even if it does involve iced tea, disco music and shouted obscenities.
That said, I was still deaf for at least an hour into dinner. You'll have to speak up a bit if you want to leave any comments. :)
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Antaria: Rogue Business (Part 1)
Celestine ambled down one of Lorendheim's side streets, humming a little tune as she did so. She had heard it wafting from one of the smaller chapels scattered throughout the city, and the music stuck to her mind as much as any religious hymn did.
More than a few eyes watched her as she moved purposely down the alley. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a precursor to some heinous crime. At the very least, any observer would have immediately expected the sounds of a struggle, perhaps followed by the clatter of running feet and some screams for assistance.
It was Celestine's robes that made the difference, though. The young woman wore blue and purple in a very distinct cut, enough for the many prying eyes to recognize a Metrian on sight. And as opportune as the situation was, no sane person -- thief or cutpurse alike -- relished the thought of having their eyebrows set on fire. Or worse.
Presently she began to sing. This grated on the humans who watched from the shadows, not just because Celestine couldn't carry a tune, but because it mocked the unlikelihood of the situation. A few hardened cutthroats slunk back into their dens, their minds unable to shake off the improbability.
Celestine turned a corner and saw light up ahead. This was such a nice day, she thought.
She passed a doorway, oblivious to the darkness that shifted about. After a second or two, a voice came to her ears. "Good afternoon," it said.
Celestine turned, the song suddenly disappearing from her head. When she didn't see anyone or anything that could have made the voice, she ventured a response.
"Good afternoon," she said. Then, as if this wasn't quite enough, she added: "It's a nice day, isn't it?"
"Yes," said the voice, as though it were leather baked into a wearable appearance. "It's a good day."
A slim, wiry figure emerged from the doorway. He was a man of medium height, with thick leather breeches and a dirty white shirt. His dry leather gloves clutched at the stone walls on either side of the alley, and his two silver teeth shone in what little light there was.
He smiled at her.
In her defense, Celestine was simply not used to this kind of situation. She smiled back.
"Now what would a young woman like you be doing in a place like this?" the man asked.
Celestine gave him a curious look. "You mean Lorendheim?" she asked.
The man laughed. "I mean, this street here. This alleyway."
"Oh," Celestine said. "Well... I'm a little late, you see. And I had to bring something back to the Guild because my mistress is expecting it, but the messengers at the Western Gate are always late, and my mistress says that she would rather not wait for a whole week again."
"Ah. And your mistress would be..."
"Mistress Imogen Stormbane, of the Metrian Guild," Celestine said without hesitation. "She's a grand old lady. She can bend lightning, you know."
"You don't say."
Celestine nodded enthusiastically. "She's been trying to teach me how to do the kind of magic that she does, only I'm just an apprentice and not as good as the others yet."
The man smiled. "So... this package that you were supposed to pick up... is it supposed to help you with your studies?"
Celestine laughed. "No, it's something for my mistress. She had to put a special order for it, from the Great Library in Allandria. I'm supposed to take good care of it on the way home. It's quite valuable."
"It is?"
"Yes," Celestine said. "It must be."
"I find that hard to believe," the leather-clad man said. "If it comes from a library, then it must be a book or a scroll. I have been to plenty of libraries, and I have already seen a great many of those. I have yet to see one that was truly valuable."
Celestine frowned. "This one is," she told her new friend. "Mistress Imogen says that it's a very rare copy, and that the Library has had it for years and years."
"Do you think so?"
"Yes," Celestine said. She reached into her robes and pulled out a small package wrapped in smooth cloth. "It's old," she said, "and some of the gold leaf is falling off, so we have to keep it wrapped up tight."
"May I see it?" the man asked, holding out a thinly-gloved hand. "I know a little about books, and if you say that it's quite valuable, then I'd like to have a look for myself."
Celestine thought nothing of it. She neatly deposited the cloth-wrapped bundle into the man's hand, then stepped back so that he could admire the work.
"It's a little heavy," the man said, weighing it in one hand.
"Mistress Imogen says that they made thicker parchment back in those days," Celestine said, helpfully.
"Ah," the man said. "That would explain why. Say, young lady... what does your mistress look like?"
"Mistress Imogen? She's tall, and she's quite handsome even though she's a little old. She has short white hair..."
"Really?" the man remarked. "Is that her, then?" he asked, beckoning towards the far side of the alley.
Surprised, Celestine turned. She didn't expect her mistress to be out and about at this time of day, much less crossing the alleyways as she did. Unable to catch a glimpse of her teacher in the shadows of the buildings, Celestine glanced around a few times, thoroughly confused.
"Your pardon, sir," Celestine said, turning back to her companion, "but I don't see her around. You must be mistaken."
But all she saw of him at that point was a lone figure running off into the distance. The leather-clad man was much faster than he looked; two leapfrogged barrels and a scaled fence later, Celestine realized that he was far beyond her line of sight.
She took a single step forward. Then, as though trying to convince herself that the whole encounter was a figment of her imagination, she reached into her robes and felt to see if her mistress's book was there. It was not.
She stared for a few more seconds. The silence of the alley seemed to be laughing at her.
Finally, Celestine's fragile mind settled on a single course of action, which seemed only too appropriate for the situation. She paused, drew a single long breath, and screamed her lungs out.
More than a few eyes watched her as she moved purposely down the alley. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a precursor to some heinous crime. At the very least, any observer would have immediately expected the sounds of a struggle, perhaps followed by the clatter of running feet and some screams for assistance.
It was Celestine's robes that made the difference, though. The young woman wore blue and purple in a very distinct cut, enough for the many prying eyes to recognize a Metrian on sight. And as opportune as the situation was, no sane person -- thief or cutpurse alike -- relished the thought of having their eyebrows set on fire. Or worse.
Presently she began to sing. This grated on the humans who watched from the shadows, not just because Celestine couldn't carry a tune, but because it mocked the unlikelihood of the situation. A few hardened cutthroats slunk back into their dens, their minds unable to shake off the improbability.
Celestine turned a corner and saw light up ahead. This was such a nice day, she thought.
She passed a doorway, oblivious to the darkness that shifted about. After a second or two, a voice came to her ears. "Good afternoon," it said.
Celestine turned, the song suddenly disappearing from her head. When she didn't see anyone or anything that could have made the voice, she ventured a response.
"Good afternoon," she said. Then, as if this wasn't quite enough, she added: "It's a nice day, isn't it?"
"Yes," said the voice, as though it were leather baked into a wearable appearance. "It's a good day."
A slim, wiry figure emerged from the doorway. He was a man of medium height, with thick leather breeches and a dirty white shirt. His dry leather gloves clutched at the stone walls on either side of the alley, and his two silver teeth shone in what little light there was.
He smiled at her.
In her defense, Celestine was simply not used to this kind of situation. She smiled back.
"Now what would a young woman like you be doing in a place like this?" the man asked.
Celestine gave him a curious look. "You mean Lorendheim?" she asked.
The man laughed. "I mean, this street here. This alleyway."
"Oh," Celestine said. "Well... I'm a little late, you see. And I had to bring something back to the Guild because my mistress is expecting it, but the messengers at the Western Gate are always late, and my mistress says that she would rather not wait for a whole week again."
"Ah. And your mistress would be..."
"Mistress Imogen Stormbane, of the Metrian Guild," Celestine said without hesitation. "She's a grand old lady. She can bend lightning, you know."
"You don't say."
Celestine nodded enthusiastically. "She's been trying to teach me how to do the kind of magic that she does, only I'm just an apprentice and not as good as the others yet."
The man smiled. "So... this package that you were supposed to pick up... is it supposed to help you with your studies?"
Celestine laughed. "No, it's something for my mistress. She had to put a special order for it, from the Great Library in Allandria. I'm supposed to take good care of it on the way home. It's quite valuable."
"It is?"
"Yes," Celestine said. "It must be."
"I find that hard to believe," the leather-clad man said. "If it comes from a library, then it must be a book or a scroll. I have been to plenty of libraries, and I have already seen a great many of those. I have yet to see one that was truly valuable."
Celestine frowned. "This one is," she told her new friend. "Mistress Imogen says that it's a very rare copy, and that the Library has had it for years and years."
"Do you think so?"
"Yes," Celestine said. She reached into her robes and pulled out a small package wrapped in smooth cloth. "It's old," she said, "and some of the gold leaf is falling off, so we have to keep it wrapped up tight."
"May I see it?" the man asked, holding out a thinly-gloved hand. "I know a little about books, and if you say that it's quite valuable, then I'd like to have a look for myself."
Celestine thought nothing of it. She neatly deposited the cloth-wrapped bundle into the man's hand, then stepped back so that he could admire the work.
"It's a little heavy," the man said, weighing it in one hand.
"Mistress Imogen says that they made thicker parchment back in those days," Celestine said, helpfully.
"Ah," the man said. "That would explain why. Say, young lady... what does your mistress look like?"
"Mistress Imogen? She's tall, and she's quite handsome even though she's a little old. She has short white hair..."
"Really?" the man remarked. "Is that her, then?" he asked, beckoning towards the far side of the alley.
Surprised, Celestine turned. She didn't expect her mistress to be out and about at this time of day, much less crossing the alleyways as she did. Unable to catch a glimpse of her teacher in the shadows of the buildings, Celestine glanced around a few times, thoroughly confused.
"Your pardon, sir," Celestine said, turning back to her companion, "but I don't see her around. You must be mistaken."
But all she saw of him at that point was a lone figure running off into the distance. The leather-clad man was much faster than he looked; two leapfrogged barrels and a scaled fence later, Celestine realized that he was far beyond her line of sight.
She took a single step forward. Then, as though trying to convince herself that the whole encounter was a figment of her imagination, she reached into her robes and felt to see if her mistress's book was there. It was not.
She stared for a few more seconds. The silence of the alley seemed to be laughing at her.
Finally, Celestine's fragile mind settled on a single course of action, which seemed only too appropriate for the situation. She paused, drew a single long breath, and screamed her lungs out.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Parallel Lines
Just in case you were wondering, I spent three or four hours at the AEGIS Open Gaming Meet this afternoon. I haven't passed by in a long time, and I've started to miss the thrill of sitting down and playing a few board games. So, over the course of those two hours, I attempted a grand total of two games -- a chess-like miniatures game called Navia Dratp, and an auction-based game called Modern Art (by the popular designer Reiner Knizia).
I could go on and on about the subtleties of both games and the sheer number of people at the meet, but I won't. Instead, I observed that there was a Dungeons & Dragons contingent gathered in a corner of the venue. They were excitedly hollering and shouting for much of my stay, and I could only conclude that they were having a great bit of fun.
It made me wonder how I got started writing for the fantasy genre. I mean, a lot of the fantasy writers I meet seem to have gotten their start setting up unexplored tombs and rolling up random encounters, or perhaps exploring and fighting them in an imaginary setting. Not so with me -- I've hardly played anything in the way of tabletop role-playing games. In fact, the first genre that I really concentrated on was science fiction; the fantasy stuff came later on, once David Eddings fired up my imagination.
I still write sci-fi, just so that you know. Finding and using a genre is just like opening your closet to decide what jacket you're going to wear for the day. Sometimes it's a science-fiction day. Sometimes it's a fantasy day. Maybe at some point, it'll be a ninjas-versus-pirates day.
I admit that I get curious sometimes. I pick up some RPG-based writings every now and then, and I find myself fascinated at the elaborate setups that people write for a bunch of players. Dungeon magazine, for instance -- which showcased custom scenarios for a D&D audience -- was regular reading material for me. Sometimes I wonder how, say, Antaria would play out... if it were a game. Sometimes I just wonder.
I feel that it's too late for me to get into RPGs now, though. Oh, a bunch of people will probably shove me into a session at some point... but it's probably far too late for me to get more than a passing interest in the hobby. For one, I'm less than a year away from my third decade, and I've got all the workaday concerns of a man my age. I find it difficult to budget my time for large-scale events, much less hour-long sessions at an average rate of once a week. Sometimes I chafe at the thought of playing in somebody else's universe, which implies that I might not be a storyteller's best friend.
But more than anything else, I already have an existing writing habit. Placing your creativity into a bunch of stories and organizing it into a game are just two completely different things. As a gamer, I imagine that I would be immersed in a world of setting details, party dynamics and stat blocks. As a writer, however, I find myself already dealing with the question of plotlines and the struggle to put the human condition in simple words and phrases. In short, it will have to be one or the other.
And I write fantasy (or any other arguable genre) as a result.
Maybe somebody will do me the honor of converting one of my universes into a viable game setting one day (which hasn't been done since Anito). I just know, deep within that twisted lump of carbon that is my weather-beaten soul, that it probably won't be me.
I'm good with that. I suppose that I would have been proud to have delved into one path or the other.
Till then, the RPG gamers can enjoy themselves as much as they want. I'll be sitting at the nearby table, smiling, as somebody puts my king in check.
I could go on and on about the subtleties of both games and the sheer number of people at the meet, but I won't. Instead, I observed that there was a Dungeons & Dragons contingent gathered in a corner of the venue. They were excitedly hollering and shouting for much of my stay, and I could only conclude that they were having a great bit of fun.
It made me wonder how I got started writing for the fantasy genre. I mean, a lot of the fantasy writers I meet seem to have gotten their start setting up unexplored tombs and rolling up random encounters, or perhaps exploring and fighting them in an imaginary setting. Not so with me -- I've hardly played anything in the way of tabletop role-playing games. In fact, the first genre that I really concentrated on was science fiction; the fantasy stuff came later on, once David Eddings fired up my imagination.
I still write sci-fi, just so that you know. Finding and using a genre is just like opening your closet to decide what jacket you're going to wear for the day. Sometimes it's a science-fiction day. Sometimes it's a fantasy day. Maybe at some point, it'll be a ninjas-versus-pirates day.
I admit that I get curious sometimes. I pick up some RPG-based writings every now and then, and I find myself fascinated at the elaborate setups that people write for a bunch of players. Dungeon magazine, for instance -- which showcased custom scenarios for a D&D audience -- was regular reading material for me. Sometimes I wonder how, say, Antaria would play out... if it were a game. Sometimes I just wonder.
I feel that it's too late for me to get into RPGs now, though. Oh, a bunch of people will probably shove me into a session at some point... but it's probably far too late for me to get more than a passing interest in the hobby. For one, I'm less than a year away from my third decade, and I've got all the workaday concerns of a man my age. I find it difficult to budget my time for large-scale events, much less hour-long sessions at an average rate of once a week. Sometimes I chafe at the thought of playing in somebody else's universe, which implies that I might not be a storyteller's best friend.
But more than anything else, I already have an existing writing habit. Placing your creativity into a bunch of stories and organizing it into a game are just two completely different things. As a gamer, I imagine that I would be immersed in a world of setting details, party dynamics and stat blocks. As a writer, however, I find myself already dealing with the question of plotlines and the struggle to put the human condition in simple words and phrases. In short, it will have to be one or the other.
And I write fantasy (or any other arguable genre) as a result.
Maybe somebody will do me the honor of converting one of my universes into a viable game setting one day (which hasn't been done since Anito). I just know, deep within that twisted lump of carbon that is my weather-beaten soul, that it probably won't be me.
I'm good with that. I suppose that I would have been proud to have delved into one path or the other.
Till then, the RPG gamers can enjoy themselves as much as they want. I'll be sitting at the nearby table, smiling, as somebody puts my king in check.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Disclaimer: July 2008
The effort to write
Is sometimes a thankless task;
Thoughts are shared with all.
All thoughts are power
And all memory a dream
The screen is a slate.
Because words are free
Some men seek to read and steal
Work finished and lost.
I write that which shines
On paper that is not there
For eyes that can see.
Should you find your work
In brittle paths where I tread
And feel this is wrong,
You must tell me this,
That I may recross roads, and
Put things as they should.
And right here you must
Enter a promise with me
You must read, not steal.
But you are welcome
To clutch these words to your heart
And bring them to light...
...So long as you ask.
I seek no money nor pay
Beyond simple link.
Should these verses
Fall outside your greater sense,
There lies more detail;
License of Commons
Flits thoughtfully on sidebar
Where it waits for you.
And if you ask me
What I learned from this post, note:
"Writing haiku is hard."
Is sometimes a thankless task;
Thoughts are shared with all.
All thoughts are power
And all memory a dream
The screen is a slate.
Because words are free
Some men seek to read and steal
Work finished and lost.
I write that which shines
On paper that is not there
For eyes that can see.
Should you find your work
In brittle paths where I tread
And feel this is wrong,
You must tell me this,
That I may recross roads, and
Put things as they should.
And right here you must
Enter a promise with me
You must read, not steal.
But you are welcome
To clutch these words to your heart
And bring them to light...
...So long as you ask.
I seek no money nor pay
Beyond simple link.
Should these verses
Fall outside your greater sense,
There lies more detail;
License of Commons
Flits thoughtfully on sidebar
Where it waits for you.
And if you ask me
What I learned from this post, note:
"Writing haiku is hard."
Monday, June 30, 2008
Rules of the Road
Manila has some of the worst drivers on the face of the earth.
Yeah, yeah, I know. That's big talk, coming from one who has almost no experience behind the wheel at all. But while I'm walking on my own two feet, chances are that you're sitting in the front seat of your own vehicle. Chances are that you've cursed at the other people on the road, wondered why the hell they do the things they do, and all in all, observed the very same thing that I'm pointing out at this very moment.
So I'm sorry to say this, but you know perfectly well that it's true: Manila has some of the worst drivers on the face of the earth.
I bring this up because of a little incident earlier today. If you weren't up that early to get to work, I'll fill you in: Early this morning, a truck figured in an accident along one of the city's major highways. It was carrying a full load of ethanol when it crashed into a post near the entrance to a tunnel, which apparently punctured one of its tanks. The next thing we knew, the area was inundated with ethanol, and we had one of the nastiest traffic snarls in recent memory.
And just to put the icing on the cake, I must point out that ethanol is flammable, that it gives off a terrible odor (especially when a lot of it has spilled out on the street), and that we're talking about the most populous highway in the city here. The result was, in a colleague's words, "the most compelling excuse to give up and go home."
I've read somewhere that the truck's driver claimed that he was trying to avoid a speeding bus, and that the police doubt him very much. I've also noted that the truck practically turned turtle during the progression of the stunt, and I find that interesting -- it almost certainly indicates that a high rate of speed was involved. Whether the issue at hand was an errant bus or a speeding truck, though, I wouldn't be surprised either way.
And in a sense, it's not just the truck from this morning. It's the jeepneys that stop to let off passengers in the middle of the road. It's the drivers who fail to signal or turn on their blinkers whenever they try something fancy. It's the taxis that decide to make a left turn from the rightmost lane, the motorcycles that weave between idling vehicles, the massive sixteen-wheelers who take shortcuts through quiet neighborhoods and tiny side streets.
It's the people who run red lights. It's the people who go against traffic. It's the people who speed through pedestrian crossings. It's the people who get up at two in the morning to race on supposedly empty streets. It's the people who invest in sirens and strange-sounding horns with no good reason at all. It's the people who think that sitting in the driver's seat puts them on a certain pedestal, a high-and-mighty position that tells them that they own the road, and that everybody else is an opposing force against whom they can compete.
Between the haphazard streetworks, the corrupt cops and the bad asphalt, we have enough things to worry about. If there's anything that should send us over the edge, it should be a lot less than a speeding truck driver who suddenly refused to take responsibility for what he perfectly knew to be flammable cargo.
You can say a lot about humanity, but one thing that you can't deny is our tendency to be completely and creatively self-destructive.
Sometimes I'm surprised that we're still kicking around.
Yeah, yeah, I know. That's big talk, coming from one who has almost no experience behind the wheel at all. But while I'm walking on my own two feet, chances are that you're sitting in the front seat of your own vehicle. Chances are that you've cursed at the other people on the road, wondered why the hell they do the things they do, and all in all, observed the very same thing that I'm pointing out at this very moment.
So I'm sorry to say this, but you know perfectly well that it's true: Manila has some of the worst drivers on the face of the earth.
I bring this up because of a little incident earlier today. If you weren't up that early to get to work, I'll fill you in: Early this morning, a truck figured in an accident along one of the city's major highways. It was carrying a full load of ethanol when it crashed into a post near the entrance to a tunnel, which apparently punctured one of its tanks. The next thing we knew, the area was inundated with ethanol, and we had one of the nastiest traffic snarls in recent memory.
And just to put the icing on the cake, I must point out that ethanol is flammable, that it gives off a terrible odor (especially when a lot of it has spilled out on the street), and that we're talking about the most populous highway in the city here. The result was, in a colleague's words, "the most compelling excuse to give up and go home."
I've read somewhere that the truck's driver claimed that he was trying to avoid a speeding bus, and that the police doubt him very much. I've also noted that the truck practically turned turtle during the progression of the stunt, and I find that interesting -- it almost certainly indicates that a high rate of speed was involved. Whether the issue at hand was an errant bus or a speeding truck, though, I wouldn't be surprised either way.
And in a sense, it's not just the truck from this morning. It's the jeepneys that stop to let off passengers in the middle of the road. It's the drivers who fail to signal or turn on their blinkers whenever they try something fancy. It's the taxis that decide to make a left turn from the rightmost lane, the motorcycles that weave between idling vehicles, the massive sixteen-wheelers who take shortcuts through quiet neighborhoods and tiny side streets.
It's the people who run red lights. It's the people who go against traffic. It's the people who speed through pedestrian crossings. It's the people who get up at two in the morning to race on supposedly empty streets. It's the people who invest in sirens and strange-sounding horns with no good reason at all. It's the people who think that sitting in the driver's seat puts them on a certain pedestal, a high-and-mighty position that tells them that they own the road, and that everybody else is an opposing force against whom they can compete.
Between the haphazard streetworks, the corrupt cops and the bad asphalt, we have enough things to worry about. If there's anything that should send us over the edge, it should be a lot less than a speeding truck driver who suddenly refused to take responsibility for what he perfectly knew to be flammable cargo.
You can say a lot about humanity, but one thing that you can't deny is our tendency to be completely and creatively self-destructive.
Sometimes I'm surprised that we're still kicking around.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Fiction: Breath
His sandals turn wet with the morning dew as he walks. The morning air is cold; it stings at his face with a sharpness that can penetrate bundled silk.
He stops, and looks at the fields before him. The tall grass grows sparsely, disturbed by the blood and footfalls of the men who had invaded their ranks many weeks ago.
In the distance, a thin sliver of sunlight slices across the sky. He stands still, waiting for a moment of perfect silence, and watching the amethyst skies.
*
“Get up,” he says, chiding his fallen student.
The boy sits up, dazed. There is a broken bokken in the boy’s hand, and his expression clearly shows that the blow came too quickly for him to remember.
“Back to your seat,” he tells the boy.
The student stands, bows, and then rejoins the rest of his class - six and ten young men and women sitting upon the wooden floor in a wide circle. There are not a few nervous smiles among them.
He straightens first his robes and then his posture, sliding his unmarred wooden sword into his obi. “Your center,” he repeats crisply, “is where your entire self converges. You must maintain your balance there. Your self, and your sword – everything must be one when you strike.”
He smiles, white teeth glinting the daylight. “Who is next?”
“I am, sensei.” A girl rises from somewhere near the front of the gathering. She is young and beautiful, with shining black hair and a smile that would rival Amaterasu’s.
“Shoko,” he says.
She bows deeply. “If I may, sensei,” she asks.
He bows in response, indicating his approval. In a few moments, he faces her in the center of the gathering, their wooden swords both drawn and ready.
Each watches the other intently. There is no sound. Silence itself dares not utter a word.
There is a slight change in the breeze, and a sudden blur of motion.
There is a single muffled huff as he lands on the floor and the air forces its way out of his lungs.
She stands above him, her sword in the finishing position of the first technique. There is only the expression of supreme concentration on her face.
He glances around, sluggish and somehow dazed. Then he notices that the sheer force of her blow has broken his wooden sword.
He blinks once, and then smiles.
She begins to smile as well, but then remembers herself at the last moment. She begins to bow.
He holds up a hand to stop her. She pauses, confused expression beginning to form on her face.
Slowly, he stands and bows deeply in her direction.
A number of his students smile, despite themselves. She does not. She frowns instead, knowing somewhere deep inside that such a thing should not be.
“I thank you, sensei,” she says nonetheless, returning the gesture.
“No,” he answers, “thank you, Shoko-gakusei.”
*
The wind toys with the tips of the tall grass, scattering their formation every which way. It makes no sound.
He is alone. He knows that it is just him, the wind, the grass, and his memories.
He looks into the distance, eyes neither bending nor blinking. Sixty years has given him the expression of steel.
He places one hand on the pommel of his katana, as if preparing to strike against some unseen enemy. Then he lets it slide further downward, feeling the smooth wood of the saya, and the point where katana and wakizashi cross.
For a single moment, he observes the horizon, etching the image of sky, earth and clouds into the corners of his mind.
Above him, Lady Sun watches as well.
*
“Still,” he warns, watching her closely, “not tense. Still yourself.”
She stands there, as still as the waters of a lake when there is no wind. Her face is iron; her expression is steel.
He taps her – sharply – against the side, startling some of the less attentive students. She does not move, save for a single moment when she closes her
eyes.
“You are tense,” he announces. “Your tension will not aid you. Know how even the most stalwart of trees fall to the storm.”
Slowly, he walks up to her, bending down slightly to adjust to her shorter frame and looking directly into her eyes.
“Breathe.”
He draws back, still watching her.
There is a moment’s hesitation, and then a single long breath.
“Again.”
She inhales once more, quickly releasing her breath back into the atmosphere of the closed courtyard.
“Again.”
She breathes again, this time more relaxed and assured. Her expression does not change.
“What do you keep inside of you?” he asks, “Fear?”
She breathes.
“Want?”
She breathes.
“Regret?”
She breathes once more.
He draws himself up slightly, looking at the sea of faces under his care. “Fear, want and regret,” he whispers. “The three sins.”
She stands still, breathing slowly and regularly.
“Know this,” he says. “A samurai does not know fear. A samurai does not know desire.”
He looks at her once more, content at the results of the day’s teaching.
“And greatest of all, a samurai does not know regret. Remember that, when you stand facing your enemy.”
*
The field still holds the scent of war - love and hate, passion and distraction, honor and glory, all at the same time.
He can hear the clashing of blades and the rustling of battered armor. He can hear the shouts of triumph and the screams of agony.
He continues looking into the distance, into the eyes of the first rays of sunlight.
*
“Glory to the clan,” he whispers, watching them charge.
They are resplendent in their golden armor. His former students now wield blades of the finest steel, as they dive into the thickest part of the fighting. His place is not among them; He can only watch, and hope that they had learned his teachings well.
She breaks from the throng, screaming her war cry and plunging to the forefront. A second division smashes into the front lines, throwing the enemy into disarray, and he loses sight of her.
By now, only half of them would be left. The better half.
They themselves knew. It was an honor and a privilege to know.
Only the unworthy died.
He sees her again, hair still shining in the sunlight, despite armor covered in sticky blood. She is half-blinded by the blood that spills over her eyes, yet she still fights with the ferocity of a true warrior.
He does not blink as he sees the enemy samurai strike at her from behind, sending his blade tearing through her body.
He does not weep as she falls, lost among the sea of new corpses.
“Destiny,” he whispers.
Destiny. Yes, Destiny.
Only the unworthy died.
*
He softens, and looks upon the miles of tall grass. He stands there, a solitary figure on an empty battlefield.
Here.
His expression is steel. Hers had been steel as well.
He pauses in slow meditation, feeling the soft breeze move across his robes.
Fear. Want. Regret.
He remembers.
Slowly, he looks over the place where she died, and begins to breathe.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The Top 30 Animated Films of All Time (as Yahoo! Thinks)
Yahoo! came up with a list of the top animated movies -- of all time! -- a couple of weeks ago, and I remember thumbing through the list for about fifteen minutes before I shoved it to the back of my mind. Media lists are a necessary evil; you'll never find one that you will fully agree with, and that goes double if a publication with neither apologies nor disclaimers gets involved. It was just a list, though, and it at least made for some passing interest that afternoon.
Earlier this evening, Yahoo! decided to perform a bit of a revamp. Having taken the argument to the Internet voting public, they've since put up a revised list that reflects the opinions of all the users who log onto their fair site. Apparently 1.2 million different user ratings went into the new list, which doesn't necessarily mean diddly-squat, because we don't know who these people are, and why they write reviews for animated movies in their spare time. But hey, it's a different list. And it got the usual boos and catcalls from me.
You see, the original list went like this:
30. Bambi
29. The Jungle Book
28. Sleeping Beauty
27. Over the Hedge
26. The Simpsons Movie
25: Ice Age: The Meltdown
24. Ice Age
23. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
22. Howl's Moving Castle
21. Mulan
20. Peter Pan
19. Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who
18. Lady and the Tramp
17. Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas
16. Princess Mononoke
15. Cinderella
14. The Little Mermaid
13. Enchanted
12. Shrek 2
11. Cars
10. Monsters, Inc.
9. Spirited Away
8. Aladdin
7. Beauty and the Beast
6. Toy Story
5. Ratatouille
4. Shrek
3. The Incredibles
2. The Lion King
1. Finding Nemo
As it was just a list by itself, and an idle-looking list at that, I wasn't about to consider my personal choices just yet. But with the release of the newer list, I feel a little more compelled to speak about my opinions. Some movies went up in ranking, some movies slipped in the stands, and of course, a couple of new releases have come out since the original. But from the way it looks, there's still quite a few things to argue about...
30. Peter Pan
Peter Pan dropped ten places in the standings, and I'm far more willing to accept it at number 30 than I am at number 20. While it's quite watchable, it's simply been outdone by a lot of other animated features since its original release.
29. Persepolis
The first movie on this list that I haven't seen. From what I've found, though, this is a contemporary coming-of-age movie that seemed to have drawn critical praise. I'll have to see if I can find a copy.
28. Meet the Robinsons
Nope, sorry, nuh-uh. I felt that this could barely hold my attention for fifteen minutes, let alone two hours. It presents a lot of weird characters in weird situations, but I don't feel that that alone should warrant it a place on this list.
27. Mulan
This is a surprise; I wanted to see this higher on the list. I liked this movie... but that could just be me, speaking from my racial background. The fact that its theme involves heroism in the fact of unacceptance probably gives it a slight push in my book.
26. Lady and the Tramp
Worthwhile, I suppose. Lady and the Tramp probably deserves to be on a Top 30 list, although I wouldn't necessarily put it in the top half.
25. My Neighbor Totoro
I haven't seen this one either, but I hear that Miyazaki makes quite a showing on this list.
24. Over the Hedge
Ugh. This is... how shall I put it... *fluff* that was specifically aimed towards a young audience. While there are some fluffy movies that are done well, I don't think this one really serves as the best example. Why is this still on the list?
23. Cinderella
Quite old, but not bad. This was one of the better golden-era Disney movies, and I was impressed at the little twist at the end. (Now if we can only get Disney to stop the constant train of sequels, then that would be just peachy.)
22. Happy Feet
I'm a sucker for musicals. The only thing I didn't like about this movie was the fact that the story felt like two completely different ideas that just got patched together, but that was about it. I feel great seeing it on this list when it was previously ignored.
21. Monsters, Inc.
The strength of Monsters, Inc. lies in two things: its story (which focuses on the alternate themes of fear and love), and its unlikely setting (which piqued my curiosity). Frankly, I'm surprised that it lands in the bottom third of the list.
20. The Little Mermaid
I would place The Little Mermaid around this area, yes. It's a good movie, and it ushered in the last great age of Disney animation, but it feels a little formulaic when compared against its contemporaries.
19. Ice Age: The Meltdown
The Ice Age movies didn't do it for me. They were entertaining to watch, yes, but I hardly felt like seeing them again after the first screening. I suppose the list does reflect the fact that the second movie was better than the first...
18. Princess Mononoke
Haven't seen this one, either.
17. Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who
After slogging through the train wrecks that were How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat, I swore off Hollywood interpretations of the late great Theodore Geisel's works. So no, I haven't seen this, and I'm not quite sold on putting it on my to-watch list.
16. The Simpsons Movie
I do love the Simpsons, but I don't think their movie -- a mishmash of strange plotlines, clever jokes and the Spider-Pig song -- should be on this list. Comedy isn't solely measured by the number of laughs that you get.
15. Howl's Moving Castle
I read the book and liked it, but I haven't seen the movie yet. Sadly, everyone I know who's seen the movie seems to prefer the book...
14. Toy Story
Indeed. This is a thinly-veiled treatise on what it's like to be old, I think, with some lessons on friendship on the side. I feel that it also presents its imaginary universe very well, something that its sequels couldn't quite capture.
13. Aladdin
Aladdin's nice and all, but I don't think that it's aged well. It's still one of the better releases of contemporary Disney, though -- I would put it slightly lower on this list, with the possibility of slipping further.
12. Beauty and the Beast
This, I feel, is the best love story that Disney ever produced. I don't think it was enough to score a Best Picture nomination, but I think it's enough to have the movie sitting this high.
11. Shrek 2
Sorry, everyone -- I felt that Shrek 2 was loads better than the original. The universe was more developed, the in-jokes were more numerous, and it had better character participation than any of the others. The fact that it falls just shy of the top ten is okay by me; what I can't accept is why its counterpart sits at number 8...
10. Enchanted
What the hell? Does ten minutes of animation automatically make this count as an animated movie? Could we throw this back into the pool of romantic comedies, please? Maybe we'll see a list for those next time.
9. Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas
This is a personal favorite; I'd actually put it on a list of top films of all time. It's macabre yet poignant, morbid yet silly. It's takes a boatload of contrasts, somehow makes it all work, and is a musical, to boot. I respectfully disagreed with having this at number 17; Number 9, however, is perfectly fine with me.
8. Shrek
Absolute heresy. Oh, this started the whole wagon train going well enough, but it feels a lot less substantial that the movies that have followed its steps. The comedy was fresh back during its time and the scene in the dragon's lair is one of the better ones in all animation, but the bare-bones plot is so simple that I can't see this in the top ten. I would rather see Shrek 2 here. Really, I would.
7. Cars
I'm sorry, everyone, but this just felt so... ... ... American to me. Maybe it imparts some important lessons in the faster-paced American context, but I simply found it difficult to empathize with this movie. I wouldn't even place this in my top thirty.
6. Ratatouille
I'll be seeing this movie later this year. By then, I'll have an opinion on it.
5. The Lion King
When I first saw this movie, I expected something along the caliber of its immediate predecessors -- The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin. I was, however, disappointed by the story, which is still a little formulaic in my book. The presence of nagging accusations that the characters and settings were a rip-off of one of Hayao Miyazaki's works doesn't help its case much. I would see this somewhere above the 20s, but definitely not this high.
4. Spirited Away
Geez... I've got to put together a Miyazaki marathon sometime.
3. The Incredibles
This is a great movie, and I would have preferred it to be longer. Seriously -- I wanted to see more focus on some of the characters; they didn't leave me with an impression of being well-developed. I keep thinking that there's a sequel in the works for this one, though, and I'll watch out for it. Definitely top ten material, but I'm not sure where it would go.
2. Kung Fu Panda
While I did like the movie, isn't it a little too early to put this in second place? I'd start this off around 15th or 16th.
1. Finding Nemo
I have to admit that this was a nice choice. It actually has a very simple plot, but it's not so formulaic that I can dismiss it offhand. What impresses me here is that it not only captures a parent-child relationship very well, but it somehow maintains this when so much else is happening on the screen. I don't know if I would put this at number one myself, but I think that it's a believable choice. I think that it would at least be top ten in any case.
What's my pick for the criminally-overlooked entry that should be on this list, you ask? That's easy -- The Iron Giant. Why this film constantly gets passed over is a complete mystery to me -- it's a remarkable story of friendship, personal choice and self-sacrifice; all set against the backdrop of a paranoid political era. If you ever manage to score a copy, I dare you to keep it together during the climactic ending.
And if Enchanted somehow managed to brown-nose its way onto the list... where's Who Framed Roger Rabbit? The movie was wacky, groundbreaking, superbly entertaining, and it had far more animation than what Amy Adams and Patrick Dempsey provided us.
Of course, this may not reflect what you think. Maybe you've seen some of the movies that I've skipped. Maybe you completely disagree with what I just said about The Lion King. Maybe you just don't like my tone of voice and are itching to sound off. Whatever the case, feel free to drop a comment and discuss your picks. We can have a nice little talk, I suppose, and maybe break out into a completely scripted song-and-dance sequence afterwards.
Earlier this evening, Yahoo! decided to perform a bit of a revamp. Having taken the argument to the Internet voting public, they've since put up a revised list that reflects the opinions of all the users who log onto their fair site. Apparently 1.2 million different user ratings went into the new list, which doesn't necessarily mean diddly-squat, because we don't know who these people are, and why they write reviews for animated movies in their spare time. But hey, it's a different list. And it got the usual boos and catcalls from me.
You see, the original list went like this:
30. Bambi
29. The Jungle Book
28. Sleeping Beauty
27. Over the Hedge
26. The Simpsons Movie
25: Ice Age: The Meltdown
24. Ice Age
23. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
22. Howl's Moving Castle
21. Mulan
20. Peter Pan
19. Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who
18. Lady and the Tramp
17. Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas
16. Princess Mononoke
15. Cinderella
14. The Little Mermaid
13. Enchanted
12. Shrek 2
11. Cars
10. Monsters, Inc.
9. Spirited Away
8. Aladdin
7. Beauty and the Beast
6. Toy Story
5. Ratatouille
4. Shrek
3. The Incredibles
2. The Lion King
1. Finding Nemo
As it was just a list by itself, and an idle-looking list at that, I wasn't about to consider my personal choices just yet. But with the release of the newer list, I feel a little more compelled to speak about my opinions. Some movies went up in ranking, some movies slipped in the stands, and of course, a couple of new releases have come out since the original. But from the way it looks, there's still quite a few things to argue about...
30. Peter Pan
Peter Pan dropped ten places in the standings, and I'm far more willing to accept it at number 30 than I am at number 20. While it's quite watchable, it's simply been outdone by a lot of other animated features since its original release.
29. Persepolis
The first movie on this list that I haven't seen. From what I've found, though, this is a contemporary coming-of-age movie that seemed to have drawn critical praise. I'll have to see if I can find a copy.
28. Meet the Robinsons
Nope, sorry, nuh-uh. I felt that this could barely hold my attention for fifteen minutes, let alone two hours. It presents a lot of weird characters in weird situations, but I don't feel that that alone should warrant it a place on this list.
27. Mulan
This is a surprise; I wanted to see this higher on the list. I liked this movie... but that could just be me, speaking from my racial background. The fact that its theme involves heroism in the fact of unacceptance probably gives it a slight push in my book.
26. Lady and the Tramp
Worthwhile, I suppose. Lady and the Tramp probably deserves to be on a Top 30 list, although I wouldn't necessarily put it in the top half.
25. My Neighbor Totoro
I haven't seen this one either, but I hear that Miyazaki makes quite a showing on this list.
24. Over the Hedge
Ugh. This is... how shall I put it... *fluff* that was specifically aimed towards a young audience. While there are some fluffy movies that are done well, I don't think this one really serves as the best example. Why is this still on the list?
23. Cinderella
Quite old, but not bad. This was one of the better golden-era Disney movies, and I was impressed at the little twist at the end. (Now if we can only get Disney to stop the constant train of sequels, then that would be just peachy.)
22. Happy Feet
I'm a sucker for musicals. The only thing I didn't like about this movie was the fact that the story felt like two completely different ideas that just got patched together, but that was about it. I feel great seeing it on this list when it was previously ignored.
21. Monsters, Inc.
The strength of Monsters, Inc. lies in two things: its story (which focuses on the alternate themes of fear and love), and its unlikely setting (which piqued my curiosity). Frankly, I'm surprised that it lands in the bottom third of the list.
20. The Little Mermaid
I would place The Little Mermaid around this area, yes. It's a good movie, and it ushered in the last great age of Disney animation, but it feels a little formulaic when compared against its contemporaries.
19. Ice Age: The Meltdown
The Ice Age movies didn't do it for me. They were entertaining to watch, yes, but I hardly felt like seeing them again after the first screening. I suppose the list does reflect the fact that the second movie was better than the first...
18. Princess Mononoke
Haven't seen this one, either.
17. Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who
After slogging through the train wrecks that were How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat, I swore off Hollywood interpretations of the late great Theodore Geisel's works. So no, I haven't seen this, and I'm not quite sold on putting it on my to-watch list.
16. The Simpsons Movie
I do love the Simpsons, but I don't think their movie -- a mishmash of strange plotlines, clever jokes and the Spider-Pig song -- should be on this list. Comedy isn't solely measured by the number of laughs that you get.
15. Howl's Moving Castle
I read the book and liked it, but I haven't seen the movie yet. Sadly, everyone I know who's seen the movie seems to prefer the book...
14. Toy Story
Indeed. This is a thinly-veiled treatise on what it's like to be old, I think, with some lessons on friendship on the side. I feel that it also presents its imaginary universe very well, something that its sequels couldn't quite capture.
13. Aladdin
Aladdin's nice and all, but I don't think that it's aged well. It's still one of the better releases of contemporary Disney, though -- I would put it slightly lower on this list, with the possibility of slipping further.
12. Beauty and the Beast
This, I feel, is the best love story that Disney ever produced. I don't think it was enough to score a Best Picture nomination, but I think it's enough to have the movie sitting this high.
11. Shrek 2
Sorry, everyone -- I felt that Shrek 2 was loads better than the original. The universe was more developed, the in-jokes were more numerous, and it had better character participation than any of the others. The fact that it falls just shy of the top ten is okay by me; what I can't accept is why its counterpart sits at number 8...
10. Enchanted
What the hell? Does ten minutes of animation automatically make this count as an animated movie? Could we throw this back into the pool of romantic comedies, please? Maybe we'll see a list for those next time.
9. Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas
This is a personal favorite; I'd actually put it on a list of top films of all time. It's macabre yet poignant, morbid yet silly. It's takes a boatload of contrasts, somehow makes it all work, and is a musical, to boot. I respectfully disagreed with having this at number 17; Number 9, however, is perfectly fine with me.
8. Shrek
Absolute heresy. Oh, this started the whole wagon train going well enough, but it feels a lot less substantial that the movies that have followed its steps. The comedy was fresh back during its time and the scene in the dragon's lair is one of the better ones in all animation, but the bare-bones plot is so simple that I can't see this in the top ten. I would rather see Shrek 2 here. Really, I would.
7. Cars
I'm sorry, everyone, but this just felt so... ... ... American to me. Maybe it imparts some important lessons in the faster-paced American context, but I simply found it difficult to empathize with this movie. I wouldn't even place this in my top thirty.
6. Ratatouille
I'll be seeing this movie later this year. By then, I'll have an opinion on it.
5. The Lion King
When I first saw this movie, I expected something along the caliber of its immediate predecessors -- The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin. I was, however, disappointed by the story, which is still a little formulaic in my book. The presence of nagging accusations that the characters and settings were a rip-off of one of Hayao Miyazaki's works doesn't help its case much. I would see this somewhere above the 20s, but definitely not this high.
4. Spirited Away
Geez... I've got to put together a Miyazaki marathon sometime.
3. The Incredibles
This is a great movie, and I would have preferred it to be longer. Seriously -- I wanted to see more focus on some of the characters; they didn't leave me with an impression of being well-developed. I keep thinking that there's a sequel in the works for this one, though, and I'll watch out for it. Definitely top ten material, but I'm not sure where it would go.
2. Kung Fu Panda
While I did like the movie, isn't it a little too early to put this in second place? I'd start this off around 15th or 16th.
1. Finding Nemo
I have to admit that this was a nice choice. It actually has a very simple plot, but it's not so formulaic that I can dismiss it offhand. What impresses me here is that it not only captures a parent-child relationship very well, but it somehow maintains this when so much else is happening on the screen. I don't know if I would put this at number one myself, but I think that it's a believable choice. I think that it would at least be top ten in any case.
What's my pick for the criminally-overlooked entry that should be on this list, you ask? That's easy -- The Iron Giant. Why this film constantly gets passed over is a complete mystery to me -- it's a remarkable story of friendship, personal choice and self-sacrifice; all set against the backdrop of a paranoid political era. If you ever manage to score a copy, I dare you to keep it together during the climactic ending.
And if Enchanted somehow managed to brown-nose its way onto the list... where's Who Framed Roger Rabbit? The movie was wacky, groundbreaking, superbly entertaining, and it had far more animation than what Amy Adams and Patrick Dempsey provided us.
Of course, this may not reflect what you think. Maybe you've seen some of the movies that I've skipped. Maybe you completely disagree with what I just said about The Lion King. Maybe you just don't like my tone of voice and are itching to sound off. Whatever the case, feel free to drop a comment and discuss your picks. We can have a nice little talk, I suppose, and maybe break out into a completely scripted song-and-dance sequence afterwards.
Monday, June 23, 2008
The Storm Passes
The power went out early the previous morning, at around four or so. The first indication I had that something was wrong involved the UPS device that protected our beloved computer from random power surges -- it started sounding off every five minutes, so I had to crawl out of bed like some legless zombie and shut the thing off.
At that point, I noticed that the wind was howling outside, shaking the windows as though it wanted to get in. That, and it was completely lightless inside the house. I realized that the storm signals were inaccurate again, that Manila was in the middle of some grade-A monsoon monstrosity once more, and I wondered how it was going to affect my Sunday.
I woke up to reports that a ferry had capsized somewhere in the south, taking a lot of people down with it; my brother had received a report from his insurance company (which thoughtfully updates its managers with information like this). None of the stations seemed to be broadcasting, predictably because no one was crazy enough to go out in such weather, and when we switched on the TV under generator-power, we found that none of the channels were up, either.
With no news, no power, and no ability to head outside the house and navigate amidst swaths of fallen branches, we gravitated to the only thing that remained: boredom. That, and each member of my family decided to sleep for about twenty hours today.
It wasn't the most productive of days, of course, and I would have preferred to at least go out and see if any place was open. But I had to face facts and realize that people still remembered the huge typhoon a couple of years ago, the one that stranded half the population and made us think twice about how we treated the local hurricane news. We may be a country that is extremely used to storms and monsoons and stuff like this, but we're also rational people. And sometimes when nature decides that she doesn't like you, the best decision often involves just riding out her anger.
It's Monday tomorrow, and I have quite a few expectations about the aftermath. There'll be quite a few rescue operations in the works, for example. The local politicians will first regroup, and then when it turns out that none of them have been harmed as much as the innocent people, they'll get to their so-called humanitarian efforts and public haranguing. There'll be the usual blame-throwing: the weather bureau will probably be questioned on how the typhoon hit us instead of passing right beside us, and the local governors will be investigated on how the storm drains still haven't been cleaned properly. And of course, a few hundred street cleaners will pull on their uniforms and prepare for the longest day of their year.
In short, life goes on. A typhoon tends to make for only the briefest of lulls in our lives; we might see it as a Sunday that was completely spoiled for us, or a Sunday where we were able to get some much-needed shut-eye. But at the end of such a day, we put on our regular clothes and realize that it's time to return to normality.
Life goes on.
At that point, I noticed that the wind was howling outside, shaking the windows as though it wanted to get in. That, and it was completely lightless inside the house. I realized that the storm signals were inaccurate again, that Manila was in the middle of some grade-A monsoon monstrosity once more, and I wondered how it was going to affect my Sunday.
I woke up to reports that a ferry had capsized somewhere in the south, taking a lot of people down with it; my brother had received a report from his insurance company (which thoughtfully updates its managers with information like this). None of the stations seemed to be broadcasting, predictably because no one was crazy enough to go out in such weather, and when we switched on the TV under generator-power, we found that none of the channels were up, either.
With no news, no power, and no ability to head outside the house and navigate amidst swaths of fallen branches, we gravitated to the only thing that remained: boredom. That, and each member of my family decided to sleep for about twenty hours today.
It wasn't the most productive of days, of course, and I would have preferred to at least go out and see if any place was open. But I had to face facts and realize that people still remembered the huge typhoon a couple of years ago, the one that stranded half the population and made us think twice about how we treated the local hurricane news. We may be a country that is extremely used to storms and monsoons and stuff like this, but we're also rational people. And sometimes when nature decides that she doesn't like you, the best decision often involves just riding out her anger.
It's Monday tomorrow, and I have quite a few expectations about the aftermath. There'll be quite a few rescue operations in the works, for example. The local politicians will first regroup, and then when it turns out that none of them have been harmed as much as the innocent people, they'll get to their so-called humanitarian efforts and public haranguing. There'll be the usual blame-throwing: the weather bureau will probably be questioned on how the typhoon hit us instead of passing right beside us, and the local governors will be investigated on how the storm drains still haven't been cleaned properly. And of course, a few hundred street cleaners will pull on their uniforms and prepare for the longest day of their year.
In short, life goes on. A typhoon tends to make for only the briefest of lulls in our lives; we might see it as a Sunday that was completely spoiled for us, or a Sunday where we were able to get some much-needed shut-eye. But at the end of such a day, we put on our regular clothes and realize that it's time to return to normality.
Life goes on.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Writing Without Writing
Much like a few other nights, this night in front of the computer brings about one realization: "I'd like to write a blog post, but I can't think of anything to write about."
No, I'm not undergoing writer's block or anything like that; I've just been busy at work lately. As every writer who's held down a day job probably knows, this situation usually results in the "pseudo-block" phenomenon: Your mind is so full of office concerns and responsibilities during the day that you can't fit any nice story ideas in there for the meantime.
Despite how it may sound, this is nothing to worry about. All we need is some idle time, an hour or two with a good book, maybe a piña colada or two, and then we'll eventually find ourselves in front of the keyboard wondering where the heck the story came from. But I'm digressing here.
Normally I have four options whenever I can't think of anything to write:
1. White Heat. In short, I write about the first idea that comes to mind. In essence, this could be anything; I've written about weird dreams, for instance, as well as the relationship between cockroaches and tupperware. I've written about the many things that can be found in a safety-deposit box, and I've written a short story about a naked woman writer. The beauty of this approach is that it practically comes with its own creativity tag -- no one's certainly going to accuse you of being uncreative if you decide to write about, say, the relationship between Harley-Davidson and Kawasaki motorcycles... or why is it that you like yellow bananas.
The catch here is that it only works if your mind is relatively empty. I find that a mind that is empty of concerns tends to flit about from thought to thought, so you usually end up accessing some weird things that way. But if you've picked up something somewhere that you're already thinking about, then it could ruin the white heat completely. In this case, I have Banzai Cat's sword-and-sorcery discussion floating around in my head, so this kind of post was out of the question for tonight.
2. Leech. A second approach involves me going through a few of the blogs that I read, and picking up an interesting topic that I'd like to discuss from my own point of view. Lots of bloggers seem to do this -- I figure that it's one reason why we see so many memes floating around -- and the resulting post tends to bolster the discussion as well as offer your own arguments on the topic. Plus, well, you get to write something.
Those who are familiar with my ethics can probably see the issue here. I'm usually not comfortable with working on other peoples' topics -- it doesn't feel "original" to me if I don't write something purely from my own volition. I write along the lines of other peoples' discussions, yes indeed, but whenever I do so, it's usually because I feel that my own opinions should be heard. Rare is the post that I put up because I want to emulate somebody else's thoughts.
3. Short Fic. Sometimes I just pick up a half-finished, disposable plot thread from the depths of my head and start typing. Other times I grab an unfinished draft from months or years back, and finally see where it leads. Whatever it is, I end up writing a tiny piece of short fiction, and every now then then I please myself with the results.
Of course, this would require that I have an invisible plot thread or an unfinished symphony hanging around somewhere, but this is less of a problem than people might think. I have a ton of odd story ideas from any number of sources, and the sheer number of drafts that I write for my "official" fiction entries gives me plenty of reference to work with. What's more a bother is the length of some of my pieces -- sometimes I work with so many words that it's impossible for me to complete a story in one sitting. And sometimes the amount of effort needed just turns me off; after ten or more hours in the office, investing a couple more for the sake of an experimental story is suddenly a huge deal. That doesn't even count the risk of grammatical errors or strange directions, the possibilities of which go up whenever I'm half-asleep at the keyboard.
4. Cop Out. Yes, I just write about not being able to think of anything to write. It's quick, it's obvious, and -- more than anything else -- it gives me an excuse to spend five hundred words discussing absolutely nothing at all.
Does it actually work? Well, let me put it this way: Think about what you're reading at this very moment.
I assume that there's a catch to this, namely the fact that one can only write so much about not being able to write. What's more, this kind of post is an active paradox -- how could you bewail the fact that you can't think of any writing ideas when you're clearly putting them down to (virtual) paper at the moment? While I figure that I still have a few tricks up my sleeve in order to face the former consideration, I personally try not to think too hard about the latter.
And now I must sleep. Looking back, it seems that I've turned a silk purse out of a sow's ear again -- I've somehow managed to turn a lack of ideas into the five-hundred-odd words you just read. It's not exactly the best way to write a blog post, but it did work to some extent tonight.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to work on an idea for the next blog post.
Maybe something about yellow bananas...
No, I'm not undergoing writer's block or anything like that; I've just been busy at work lately. As every writer who's held down a day job probably knows, this situation usually results in the "pseudo-block" phenomenon: Your mind is so full of office concerns and responsibilities during the day that you can't fit any nice story ideas in there for the meantime.
Despite how it may sound, this is nothing to worry about. All we need is some idle time, an hour or two with a good book, maybe a piña colada or two, and then we'll eventually find ourselves in front of the keyboard wondering where the heck the story came from. But I'm digressing here.
Normally I have four options whenever I can't think of anything to write:
1. White Heat. In short, I write about the first idea that comes to mind. In essence, this could be anything; I've written about weird dreams, for instance, as well as the relationship between cockroaches and tupperware. I've written about the many things that can be found in a safety-deposit box, and I've written a short story about a naked woman writer. The beauty of this approach is that it practically comes with its own creativity tag -- no one's certainly going to accuse you of being uncreative if you decide to write about, say, the relationship between Harley-Davidson and Kawasaki motorcycles... or why is it that you like yellow bananas.
The catch here is that it only works if your mind is relatively empty. I find that a mind that is empty of concerns tends to flit about from thought to thought, so you usually end up accessing some weird things that way. But if you've picked up something somewhere that you're already thinking about, then it could ruin the white heat completely. In this case, I have Banzai Cat's sword-and-sorcery discussion floating around in my head, so this kind of post was out of the question for tonight.
2. Leech. A second approach involves me going through a few of the blogs that I read, and picking up an interesting topic that I'd like to discuss from my own point of view. Lots of bloggers seem to do this -- I figure that it's one reason why we see so many memes floating around -- and the resulting post tends to bolster the discussion as well as offer your own arguments on the topic. Plus, well, you get to write something.
Those who are familiar with my ethics can probably see the issue here. I'm usually not comfortable with working on other peoples' topics -- it doesn't feel "original" to me if I don't write something purely from my own volition. I write along the lines of other peoples' discussions, yes indeed, but whenever I do so, it's usually because I feel that my own opinions should be heard. Rare is the post that I put up because I want to emulate somebody else's thoughts.
3. Short Fic. Sometimes I just pick up a half-finished, disposable plot thread from the depths of my head and start typing. Other times I grab an unfinished draft from months or years back, and finally see where it leads. Whatever it is, I end up writing a tiny piece of short fiction, and every now then then I please myself with the results.
Of course, this would require that I have an invisible plot thread or an unfinished symphony hanging around somewhere, but this is less of a problem than people might think. I have a ton of odd story ideas from any number of sources, and the sheer number of drafts that I write for my "official" fiction entries gives me plenty of reference to work with. What's more a bother is the length of some of my pieces -- sometimes I work with so many words that it's impossible for me to complete a story in one sitting. And sometimes the amount of effort needed just turns me off; after ten or more hours in the office, investing a couple more for the sake of an experimental story is suddenly a huge deal. That doesn't even count the risk of grammatical errors or strange directions, the possibilities of which go up whenever I'm half-asleep at the keyboard.
4. Cop Out. Yes, I just write about not being able to think of anything to write. It's quick, it's obvious, and -- more than anything else -- it gives me an excuse to spend five hundred words discussing absolutely nothing at all.
Does it actually work? Well, let me put it this way: Think about what you're reading at this very moment.
I assume that there's a catch to this, namely the fact that one can only write so much about not being able to write. What's more, this kind of post is an active paradox -- how could you bewail the fact that you can't think of any writing ideas when you're clearly putting them down to (virtual) paper at the moment? While I figure that I still have a few tricks up my sleeve in order to face the former consideration, I personally try not to think too hard about the latter.
And now I must sleep. Looking back, it seems that I've turned a silk purse out of a sow's ear again -- I've somehow managed to turn a lack of ideas into the five-hundred-odd words you just read. It's not exactly the best way to write a blog post, but it did work to some extent tonight.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to work on an idea for the next blog post.
Maybe something about yellow bananas...
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Shameless Plug
So Sony Philippines has this new marketing promo, you see -- it's rolling out a new line of colored Vaio laptops in an effort to get the younger audience interested in its C Series. Now, the Sony Vaio has always been plenty attractive in my book -- I mean, it's practically representative of the sleek, streamlined look of modern technology -- but if there's anything that will get our attention, it's a series of of laptops in cute pastel colors. Oooooh, shiny.
But I'm not here to plug the Vaio. I'm actually here to mention that my brother, Jon Kevin, is in the running as a "face" model for the Vaio rollout. And apparently, the finals involve an online vote as one of the judging components.
You see, Sony is releasing its Vaio line in five colors, and has assigned a complementary "profile" for each one. As a result, you now have a White Vaio for "elegant" users, a Red Vaio for "sexy" users, a Black Vaio for "power" users, and a Pink Vaio for people who like doing their best Elle Woods impression. You also have a Blue Vaio for "stylish" users, and it's under this color that my brother's trying his best to look good.
Ironically, Kevin does look good. He focuses on his personal style a lot more than I do, and I'm glad to say that I have more than a few "blackmail" anecdotes on the number of people who crush on him. :)
Kidding aside, I bring this up because he also happens to be a very articulate person. I make no secret of the fact that I am far and away the better writer (you can stop laughing now), but Kevin is definitely the better speaker among the two of us. He has experience running seminars, he acts as a freelance speaker for corporate events, and he even taught kindergarten classes at one point. He's also a lot more outgoing than I am, which will probably be an important requirement for the Vaio rollout. In fact, this is precisely why I figure that he would be a really good choice -- not only would he probably look good as a "face" for the "stylish" Blue Vaio, but he could easily discuss and promote the product in an articulate manner.
And if you haven't been convinced as of yet, there's also the consideration that he's on local TV at the moment. Yes, he shows up on a program called The Sweet Life on QTV, dispensing advice on love and relationships. He's been appearing for about six months now, and every now and then he takes over the computer to answer relationship concerns that are sent to him via e-mail.
Come to think of it, he even has a repository for his photos and event descriptions. You need to have a Multiply account to have a look, though.
I've already posted my vote for him, of course. Whether you give Jon Kevin a vote as well just happens to be your choice. I'm just saying that I believe him to be a good option for all the reasons stated above -- so do drop by the site and give him a break.
And yes, Sony decided to go ahead and misspell his name as of this writing. I've had the gleefully interesting task of letting him know, and I'm sure that wherever he is, he's probably laughing it off right now.
But I'm not here to plug the Vaio. I'm actually here to mention that my brother, Jon Kevin, is in the running as a "face" model for the Vaio rollout. And apparently, the finals involve an online vote as one of the judging components.
You see, Sony is releasing its Vaio line in five colors, and has assigned a complementary "profile" for each one. As a result, you now have a White Vaio for "elegant" users, a Red Vaio for "sexy" users, a Black Vaio for "power" users, and a Pink Vaio for people who like doing their best Elle Woods impression. You also have a Blue Vaio for "stylish" users, and it's under this color that my brother's trying his best to look good.
Ironically, Kevin does look good. He focuses on his personal style a lot more than I do, and I'm glad to say that I have more than a few "blackmail" anecdotes on the number of people who crush on him. :)
Kidding aside, I bring this up because he also happens to be a very articulate person. I make no secret of the fact that I am far and away the better writer (you can stop laughing now), but Kevin is definitely the better speaker among the two of us. He has experience running seminars, he acts as a freelance speaker for corporate events, and he even taught kindergarten classes at one point. He's also a lot more outgoing than I am, which will probably be an important requirement for the Vaio rollout. In fact, this is precisely why I figure that he would be a really good choice -- not only would he probably look good as a "face" for the "stylish" Blue Vaio, but he could easily discuss and promote the product in an articulate manner.
And if you haven't been convinced as of yet, there's also the consideration that he's on local TV at the moment. Yes, he shows up on a program called The Sweet Life on QTV, dispensing advice on love and relationships. He's been appearing for about six months now, and every now and then he takes over the computer to answer relationship concerns that are sent to him via e-mail.
Come to think of it, he even has a repository for his photos and event descriptions. You need to have a Multiply account to have a look, though.
I've already posted my vote for him, of course. Whether you give Jon Kevin a vote as well just happens to be your choice. I'm just saying that I believe him to be a good option for all the reasons stated above -- so do drop by the site and give him a break.
And yes, Sony decided to go ahead and misspell his name as of this writing. I've had the gleefully interesting task of letting him know, and I'm sure that wherever he is, he's probably laughing it off right now.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
The Conan Question
Over on his side of the world wide web, Banzai Cat asks a question: Does a local sword-and-sorcery subgenre exist around here?
The first instinct is to answer "yes". Every literary fantasy environment should have its divisions, after all. We know that there are at least a few Filipino writers who work on their own fantasy settings; some reveal their worlds bit by bit in any number of short stories, while others rush their stuff into full-blown primetime TV series. The fantasy genre has long pervaded local literature and entertainment; how can we not have a bunch of stuff that can be lumped under a "sword-and-sorcery" subgenre?
And now that I have those initial assumptions firmly in place, I have to admit that I can't think of a single example.
To be honest, Sword-and-Sorcery (which I'll shorten to the strange-sounding "S&S") doesn't necessarily lie along the same lines of literary thought. It's basically a sort-of "pulp" fantasy -- while traditional high fantasy will flesh out an entire alternate world and explain how everything works through an epic cast of characters, S&S will concentrate on individual wild-ride adventures centering around a single feature character or characters. I find a lot more action and a lot less moral stratification in S&S work; In these stories, the emphasis is removed from the setting and placed firmly on the shoulders of a hard-bitten protagonist. Think Conan, if you like. Or Red Sonja, I suppose. Or Xena, if your mind can stand to be stretched a bit.
On further thought, I realize that the Philippine context might not be particularly conducive to S&S. Our fantastic "pulp" literature actually tends towards the direction of high fantasy -- we get a lot of superheroes, for instance, who gain magical powers from otherworldly forces and proceed to use them in order to save the world. It falls in line with a fairly desperate world-view: In a way, we feel that the Philippine context is so hopeless that our fantasies involve rescuing ourselves from it.
Moreover, our creative background pushes us in the direction of high fantasy as well. For one, our local bookstores are lined with multiple-volume epics by established novelists. Our cartoon fare consists mostly of Japanese animé, none of which takes place in a purely local context. We even play more collectible card games than role-playing games nowadays -- the former promotes a lush setting more than it does an in-depth story.
So with all this in mind, I'd have to say that, no, a local S&S subgenre doesn't exist around here.
And now that begs a certain question: "So what's stopping us from writing it?"
I'm no stranger to high fantasy, of course. You've seen the Antaria setting that I've molded through past posts on this blog, and even that wasn't the first alternate-world setup that I've created. But now that S&S is in the picture, it brings up another concern: Does significant experience in high fantasy invalidate one's ability to get down to the new subgenre?
I don't know the answer to that. I suppose that the only way to find out would be to pick up a pen and try my hand at the stuff. I admit that the prospect of writing fantasy without the standard trappings of fantasy feels difficult, but it might just be worth it to explore a direction that no one else seems to have explored in the last few years.
That would be something to consider the next time I feel like delving into fantasy again... *rummages through character archive*
The first instinct is to answer "yes". Every literary fantasy environment should have its divisions, after all. We know that there are at least a few Filipino writers who work on their own fantasy settings; some reveal their worlds bit by bit in any number of short stories, while others rush their stuff into full-blown primetime TV series. The fantasy genre has long pervaded local literature and entertainment; how can we not have a bunch of stuff that can be lumped under a "sword-and-sorcery" subgenre?
And now that I have those initial assumptions firmly in place, I have to admit that I can't think of a single example.
To be honest, Sword-and-Sorcery (which I'll shorten to the strange-sounding "S&S") doesn't necessarily lie along the same lines of literary thought. It's basically a sort-of "pulp" fantasy -- while traditional high fantasy will flesh out an entire alternate world and explain how everything works through an epic cast of characters, S&S will concentrate on individual wild-ride adventures centering around a single feature character or characters. I find a lot more action and a lot less moral stratification in S&S work; In these stories, the emphasis is removed from the setting and placed firmly on the shoulders of a hard-bitten protagonist. Think Conan, if you like. Or Red Sonja, I suppose. Or Xena, if your mind can stand to be stretched a bit.
On further thought, I realize that the Philippine context might not be particularly conducive to S&S. Our fantastic "pulp" literature actually tends towards the direction of high fantasy -- we get a lot of superheroes, for instance, who gain magical powers from otherworldly forces and proceed to use them in order to save the world. It falls in line with a fairly desperate world-view: In a way, we feel that the Philippine context is so hopeless that our fantasies involve rescuing ourselves from it.
Moreover, our creative background pushes us in the direction of high fantasy as well. For one, our local bookstores are lined with multiple-volume epics by established novelists. Our cartoon fare consists mostly of Japanese animé, none of which takes place in a purely local context. We even play more collectible card games than role-playing games nowadays -- the former promotes a lush setting more than it does an in-depth story.
So with all this in mind, I'd have to say that, no, a local S&S subgenre doesn't exist around here.
And now that begs a certain question: "So what's stopping us from writing it?"
I'm no stranger to high fantasy, of course. You've seen the Antaria setting that I've molded through past posts on this blog, and even that wasn't the first alternate-world setup that I've created. But now that S&S is in the picture, it brings up another concern: Does significant experience in high fantasy invalidate one's ability to get down to the new subgenre?
I don't know the answer to that. I suppose that the only way to find out would be to pick up a pen and try my hand at the stuff. I admit that the prospect of writing fantasy without the standard trappings of fantasy feels difficult, but it might just be worth it to explore a direction that no one else seems to have explored in the last few years.
That would be something to consider the next time I feel like delving into fantasy again... *rummages through character archive*
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Hi, God. It's Me, Sean.
Sometimes I just wonder.
I have to admit that you don't hear from me very often. I mean, I'm not exactly the practicing Catholic that you would probably prefer to have. But I do get in touch every now and then, even if it's only to the extent of placing a long-distance phone call from the safety of my comfort zones.
Early this morning I sent you a short message. All I asked for was a bit of contentment -- the last few days have been pretty hectic at work, and it looks like the next couple of weeks will be quite busy for me. This is the only three-day weekend within plain sight, and I asked if you could let me kick back and enjoy the personal time, for once.
The irony, of course, was that I was heading to a whole-day Magic tournament. I'm pretty sure that you don't get offended by the little pieces of cardboard, though, and it's one of the restive outlets that I reserve for myself. People will probably roll their eyes and shake their heads, but this kind of thing helps feed the competitive streak in my soul.
In a sense, a good day was all that I asked for. Not an ignoble day, not an ambivalent day... but a day in which I could sit back and feel contented. I don't get many of those.
Halfway through the afternoon I gave you another call. At that point I had three wins and no losses chalked up at the end of three swiss rounds, and I had raised an eyebrow at my extraordinary luck. I got the feeling that you had a hand in it somewhere, so I plunked down a few minutes just to see if you were listening.
All I wanted was a good day. But I also have certain paranoid tendencies -- every time it seems as though things are going my way, I take it as a signal to slow down and raise the red flag. Nothing, I think, ever turns out completely good. Any situation where I feel as though I'm riding high on the hog only means that something's going to come and knock me off when I least expect it.
So at 3-0 with the second half of the tournament in front of me, I said a few things. I said that a 3-0 was already perfectly good in my book, I said that you probably knew how things were going to turn out, and I said that even if I lost every match from thereon till the end, then that would have still been okay with me.
Oh, I'll admit that I wanted at least a few more wins. After all, I don't spend entire days at tournaments feeling a sense of helplessness at the hands of a few pieces of brightly-colored paper. But at that point, with a 3-0 that was on par with my best performances and the chance to face some of the better players of the game for my next table, there was not much more that I could have asked for.
I just wanted you to know that I was content, that's all. It was already a good day.
So now I'm back at home, sitting in front of the computer screen, writing my thoughts on a virtual slab of paper.
I know that I gave you one last call today, and I can pinpoint it at around eight-thirty when the tournament had finally wrapped up. First prize turned out to be fifteen unopened packs of cards -- it made for a very tidy return when I sold them to an interested buyer. That, in addition to the money I made selling off the other stuff that I picked up from my wins, made sure that I came back a little richer than when I first arrived.
I've never made six wins before. It doesn't help that the number comes beside a figure of zero losses. I've received congratulations from people who I once congratulated before, and it feels strange.
When I dialed that cosmic number of yours at eight-thirty this evening, the first thing that I could think of saying was, "I've never gone 6-0 before."
The second thing that I said was, "Thanks."
It's not the 6-0, even if I have yet to come to terms with it. It was more the fact that I didn't feel happy or sad or any of those little clichés that they teach in preschool. I just felt tired, as though I wanted to go home and plop myself into a convenient armchair. I felt as though I had spent a lot of time trying my best to do something, only to be surprised at how it would suddenly come to fruition right before my eyes.
In short, I felt content. Even if I had all the worries of the world waiting to ambush me once I report to work later this week... for that one moment today, I felt content.
Sometimes I wonder why you choose to do things like this. Sometimes, well, I wonder how you decide to just let these days happen for a poor, sick nobody like me. I don't even call you on a regular basis.
But I do appreciate the gesture, and I appreciate it a lot.
So... thank you for the good day. Thank you for the nice feeling of contentment; I don't get that very often nowadays. Thank you for the fact that you're still watching me from somewhere, and whatever made you decide that I would get a day like this.
It's not a huge thing, but it's the least I can say.
I have to admit that you don't hear from me very often. I mean, I'm not exactly the practicing Catholic that you would probably prefer to have. But I do get in touch every now and then, even if it's only to the extent of placing a long-distance phone call from the safety of my comfort zones.
Early this morning I sent you a short message. All I asked for was a bit of contentment -- the last few days have been pretty hectic at work, and it looks like the next couple of weeks will be quite busy for me. This is the only three-day weekend within plain sight, and I asked if you could let me kick back and enjoy the personal time, for once.
The irony, of course, was that I was heading to a whole-day Magic tournament. I'm pretty sure that you don't get offended by the little pieces of cardboard, though, and it's one of the restive outlets that I reserve for myself. People will probably roll their eyes and shake their heads, but this kind of thing helps feed the competitive streak in my soul.
In a sense, a good day was all that I asked for. Not an ignoble day, not an ambivalent day... but a day in which I could sit back and feel contented. I don't get many of those.
*
Halfway through the afternoon I gave you another call. At that point I had three wins and no losses chalked up at the end of three swiss rounds, and I had raised an eyebrow at my extraordinary luck. I got the feeling that you had a hand in it somewhere, so I plunked down a few minutes just to see if you were listening.
All I wanted was a good day. But I also have certain paranoid tendencies -- every time it seems as though things are going my way, I take it as a signal to slow down and raise the red flag. Nothing, I think, ever turns out completely good. Any situation where I feel as though I'm riding high on the hog only means that something's going to come and knock me off when I least expect it.
So at 3-0 with the second half of the tournament in front of me, I said a few things. I said that a 3-0 was already perfectly good in my book, I said that you probably knew how things were going to turn out, and I said that even if I lost every match from thereon till the end, then that would have still been okay with me.
Oh, I'll admit that I wanted at least a few more wins. After all, I don't spend entire days at tournaments feeling a sense of helplessness at the hands of a few pieces of brightly-colored paper. But at that point, with a 3-0 that was on par with my best performances and the chance to face some of the better players of the game for my next table, there was not much more that I could have asked for.
I just wanted you to know that I was content, that's all. It was already a good day.
*
So now I'm back at home, sitting in front of the computer screen, writing my thoughts on a virtual slab of paper.
I know that I gave you one last call today, and I can pinpoint it at around eight-thirty when the tournament had finally wrapped up. First prize turned out to be fifteen unopened packs of cards -- it made for a very tidy return when I sold them to an interested buyer. That, in addition to the money I made selling off the other stuff that I picked up from my wins, made sure that I came back a little richer than when I first arrived.
I've never made six wins before. It doesn't help that the number comes beside a figure of zero losses. I've received congratulations from people who I once congratulated before, and it feels strange.
When I dialed that cosmic number of yours at eight-thirty this evening, the first thing that I could think of saying was, "I've never gone 6-0 before."
The second thing that I said was, "Thanks."
It's not the 6-0, even if I have yet to come to terms with it. It was more the fact that I didn't feel happy or sad or any of those little clichés that they teach in preschool. I just felt tired, as though I wanted to go home and plop myself into a convenient armchair. I felt as though I had spent a lot of time trying my best to do something, only to be surprised at how it would suddenly come to fruition right before my eyes.
In short, I felt content. Even if I had all the worries of the world waiting to ambush me once I report to work later this week... for that one moment today, I felt content.
Sometimes I wonder why you choose to do things like this. Sometimes, well, I wonder how you decide to just let these days happen for a poor, sick nobody like me. I don't even call you on a regular basis.
But I do appreciate the gesture, and I appreciate it a lot.
So... thank you for the good day. Thank you for the nice feeling of contentment; I don't get that very often nowadays. Thank you for the fact that you're still watching me from somewhere, and whatever made you decide that I would get a day like this.
It's not a huge thing, but it's the least I can say.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Make 24 Copies
Recently, somebody on one of my mailing lists made the mistake of sending the following chain letter to the group:
Now, I've been entrenched in the Internet since the last half of the 1990s, when Internet connections were only just starting to attain public consciousness in the Philippines. As a result, I've seen more than my fair share of chain letters, spam mail, computer viruses, trojan horses, and adware in the last twenty years. To say that I've grown to hate the stuff would be an understatement.
I used to launch into long tirades every time somebody sent me one of these nasty things, but eventually I wised up and realized that what I was doing was far more offensive than the chain letters themselves. So for the most part nowadays, I gently point out the error of each sender's ways, give them a nice pat on the head, and send them off.
I find that the latter approach has been far less effective than my old, trauma-inducing ways. But I am getting soft in my old age, after all.
For this momentous occasion, however, my initial response was cut short by the fact that somebody had already answered the offender in question:
At that point, I couldn't help myself. I figured that I could write a far better response than something that only consisted of two lines and three sentences. (No offense intended to its eminent poster, of course -- we're of like minds, and I do respect his gaming skills.)
So after about an hour's investment, I ended up with the following monstrosity of an e-mail:
Yes, I'm still evil.
I did write an apology at the end, of course. It wasn't much of a retraction for the little piece of work that you see above... but then, I wasn't exactly too open to apology in the first place. I just wanted to make it clear that I was making fun of the message and not the messenger. If I made a bunch of people laugh in the process, then I was at least partially successful.
Was it mean? Yes. Was it incredibly petty? Yes. Was it unbelievably vindictive? Yes.
Was it extremely satisfying? You'd better believe it was.
I'm still evil, after all.
BLESSED VIRGIN MARY
Ina ng Laging saklolo (pls do not ignore)
In Honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary:
Mother of Perpetual Help, please help our parents, brothers, sisters and other people of The world. Let us pray to the Mother of Perpetual Help. The letter started in Davao City , Philippines scattered all over the world. Please send 24 copies to your friends.
Do not laugh or delete this, for something might happen.
Alvin Patrimonio's salary increased when he mailed 24 copies to his friends and relatives. Benjie Paras just laughed it off and lost his job.
Jay Ilagan ignored the letter, but made 24 copies. He forgot though to send them, he later died in an accident.
Mr. Duterte requested his secretary to make 24 copies and sent these to his friends and relatives, he became Mayor of Davao City .
Tapusin MO lang within 10 days at huwag ipagwalang bahala. Manalangin sa Ina ng Laging Saklolo. Tandaan ninyo sa loob ng 15 days magkakaroon kayo ng sorpresa.
Thank you very much and
GOD BLESS
YOU.
Now, I've been entrenched in the Internet since the last half of the 1990s, when Internet connections were only just starting to attain public consciousness in the Philippines. As a result, I've seen more than my fair share of chain letters, spam mail, computer viruses, trojan horses, and adware in the last twenty years. To say that I've grown to hate the stuff would be an understatement.
I used to launch into long tirades every time somebody sent me one of these nasty things, but eventually I wised up and realized that what I was doing was far more offensive than the chain letters themselves. So for the most part nowadays, I gently point out the error of each sender's ways, give them a nice pat on the head, and send them off.
I find that the latter approach has been far less effective than my old, trauma-inducing ways. But I am getting soft in my old age, after all.
For this momentous occasion, however, my initial response was cut short by the fact that somebody had already answered the offender in question:
Oooh a chain letter. Now THAT is a tale indeed.
I pity those who believe in them.
At that point, I couldn't help myself. I figured that I could write a far better response than something that only consisted of two lines and three sentences. (No offense intended to its eminent poster, of course -- we're of like minds, and I do respect his gaming skills.)
So after about an hour's investment, I ended up with the following monstrosity of an e-mail:
> Oooh a chain letter. Now THAT is a tale indeed.
>
> I pity those who believe in them.
B... but it's true! The letter says so!
> Jay Ilagan ignored the letter, but made 24 copies. He
> forgot though to send them, he later died in an
> accident.
See? Never mind that Jay Ilagan died in 1992, when Internet service in the Philippines was still in its infancy! The power of the chain letter was such that it stuck down Jay Ilagan at a time when most of the country didn't even have phone lines!
Moreover, I have information from other legitimate, believable sources that ignoring or deleting this chain letter was responsible for other calamitous disasters in recent times!
Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo refused to send out this chain letter shortly after EDSA 2, and just look at what happened to her! Her involvement in spurious election results and (ironically) a massive scandal involving broadband internet - among others - turned most of the public against her!
Antonio Trillanes came upon this chain letter in November 2007, after going over the website that his followers had created. He ignored it because he had "more important things to consider". Big mistake - his revolt the next day got almost no supporters at all, destroyed a good hotel, and was crushed by the government!
And in addition to them, numerous other anonymous people have refused to send the message and have had various bad things happen to them! John Paul Walangmalay ignored the chain letter and died the next day from being run over by a speeding kalesa! Melvin Okeydokey sent out only three copies, and after two days suffered a severe concussion when a giant mutant sayote came over to his house and beat him up! Sean Uy deleted the message and realized the next morning that ALL THE BEER IN HIS FRIDGE WAS GONE!
So please... for your own future and well-being, please, please please PLEASE don't ignore this chain letter! Your very life and sanity may be at stake!
Yes, I'm still evil.
I did write an apology at the end, of course. It wasn't much of a retraction for the little piece of work that you see above... but then, I wasn't exactly too open to apology in the first place. I just wanted to make it clear that I was making fun of the message and not the messenger. If I made a bunch of people laugh in the process, then I was at least partially successful.
Seriously, though... I'm just having a bit of fun here. Apologies in advance to anyone who may be offended; I hoped that my writing would get at least a little laugh out of you.
Oh, and please don't send letters like these. No matter how authoritative they might sound, they're never accurate. In addition, there are quite a few people on the Internet who have encountered a lot of these things, and their responses are likely to be very negative, more often than not. So... do be careful about what you read and send, especially to mailing lists.
That said, that bit about the giant mutant sayote is completely true. Honest.
Was it mean? Yes. Was it incredibly petty? Yes. Was it unbelievably vindictive? Yes.
Was it extremely satisfying? You'd better believe it was.
I'm still evil, after all.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Disclaimer: June 2008
RdL: We have to talk, Sean.
SU: So hit me already. What's this about?
RdL: Well, remember how you asked me to take a look at your blog a couple of months ago?
SU: Yeah. Did you?
RdL: Yes, and I think it's a little... how should you say...
SU: Overkill?
RdL: Overkill.
SU: It's the monthly disclaimers, isn't it?
RdL: Yes. You are writing these once every month. That makes a lot of posts. How many of these did you say you've made again?
SU: Over forty, I think.
RdL: That's a lot.
SU: I know.
RdL: And they're all original.
SU: Everything in the blog is original. I've told you -- I put together all my own stuff. Now, I know that you're a lawyer, so let me say this: Sometimes I get inspired by other peoples' works. Sometimes I even pick up excerpts of other peoples' works and use them in the blog. But everything there -- everything written there, that is -- happens to be mine. I wrote the stuff.
RdL: Except for whatever you use that was written by other people.
SU: Yes.
RdL: You put acknowledgements for them, right? A byline or a link?
SU: Links if possible. I always put acknowledgements if I use somebody else's stuff. The Internet can be a really bad place sometimes, and as much as possible, I don't want to promote plagiaristic practices. I even mention that if anybody thinks that I haven't given them the correct acknowledgements, then I'm willing to talk this over regarding fair use of their work.
RdL: So what's this about other people using your work?
SU: It goes the other way, too. I have more than a few years of work posted on the blog, and it's open to anyone who can access the site. I don't like the idea of people copying the stuff I've written, and using it for their own personal gain. It's not fair to me, it's not fair to the people who judge them based on their effort, and it's not fair to their own personal development.
RdL: You mentioned that earlier.
SU: So what I do, is that I ask them to request permission before using any of my work. It helps me make sure that it's used for the correct purpose and context that way.
RdL: How has that worked out?
SU: Pretty good, actually. I get to meet a few great people in that way. I've even seen some excellent reinterpretations of my works. The best part is that you know that these people are honorable sorts, that they're trying to get ahead by improving their own skills.
RdL: But no one's tried to steal your work yet.
SU: I'm not sure. If someone has, then I haven't heard of it.
RdL: Or they haven't stolen your work yet.
SU: Maybe I write about subjects that can't easily be reflected in alternative venues. Maybe my style is just really distinctive. Maybe the disclaimers really are doing their job.
RdL: Maybe no one wants to steal your stuff.
SU: Maybe. I cant discount anything at this point.
RdL: Well, your fears of theft would still be justified. But I still don't understand the disclaimers. Don't you already have a license posted on your blog?
SU: That's the Creative Commons License I told you about. It's this free setup, this little thing that says that you're part of an organization that advocates fair use among Net users. When I registered for it, I set my membership up so that it covers all those things I told you about -- that people can use what I've written on the blog, as long as I'm asked permission for it.
RdL: So why the disclaimers?
SU: I had the disclaimers even before I had the license. Besides, the license is always on the bottom of the sidebar, so it might not be immediately obvious to readers. The disclaimers, on the other hand, will usually be the uppermost post for the first few days of each month. And I write about ten posts per month, so they'll usually be on my list of recent posts.
RdL: They're also very creative.
SU: I dress them up so that they're at least interesting to read. What I want to know if they're legally binding.
RdL: Well, my answer is that anything can be legally binding, as long as you cite it clearly in writing. Copyright comes into being at the moment when you create the work.
SU: I think that it would be difficult to argue against my intent to protect my work at this point. There are just so many disclaimer posts now.
RdL: That's your answer, then. I don't think that you can argue one count of plagiarism for every disclaimer you've written, but you can cite obvious intent. People can't say that you intended your blog to be for completely free use... not when you've made a lot of posts to the contrary.
SU: That's good to hear.
RdL: However, I would advise that you tone down the threats.
SU: What threats?
RdL: The ones where you threaten to do things to violators -- like use a baseball bat on them, or feed them to the dogs, or other random acts.
SU: I would, but I'd settle for a legal recourse.
RdL: You mean me.
SU: Yes. You don't have as much impact as a baseball bat or a good-sized German Shepherd, but you'll do. I know a couple of people who would probably scream at the mention of your profession.
RdL: That was uncalled for.
SU: But it's fun. Hey... are you going to finish that?
SU: So hit me already. What's this about?
RdL: Well, remember how you asked me to take a look at your blog a couple of months ago?
SU: Yeah. Did you?
RdL: Yes, and I think it's a little... how should you say...
SU: Overkill?
RdL: Overkill.
SU: It's the monthly disclaimers, isn't it?
RdL: Yes. You are writing these once every month. That makes a lot of posts. How many of these did you say you've made again?
SU: Over forty, I think.
RdL: That's a lot.
SU: I know.
RdL: And they're all original.
SU: Everything in the blog is original. I've told you -- I put together all my own stuff. Now, I know that you're a lawyer, so let me say this: Sometimes I get inspired by other peoples' works. Sometimes I even pick up excerpts of other peoples' works and use them in the blog. But everything there -- everything written there, that is -- happens to be mine. I wrote the stuff.
RdL: Except for whatever you use that was written by other people.
SU: Yes.
RdL: You put acknowledgements for them, right? A byline or a link?
SU: Links if possible. I always put acknowledgements if I use somebody else's stuff. The Internet can be a really bad place sometimes, and as much as possible, I don't want to promote plagiaristic practices. I even mention that if anybody thinks that I haven't given them the correct acknowledgements, then I'm willing to talk this over regarding fair use of their work.
RdL: So what's this about other people using your work?
SU: It goes the other way, too. I have more than a few years of work posted on the blog, and it's open to anyone who can access the site. I don't like the idea of people copying the stuff I've written, and using it for their own personal gain. It's not fair to me, it's not fair to the people who judge them based on their effort, and it's not fair to their own personal development.
RdL: You mentioned that earlier.
SU: So what I do, is that I ask them to request permission before using any of my work. It helps me make sure that it's used for the correct purpose and context that way.
RdL: How has that worked out?
SU: Pretty good, actually. I get to meet a few great people in that way. I've even seen some excellent reinterpretations of my works. The best part is that you know that these people are honorable sorts, that they're trying to get ahead by improving their own skills.
RdL: But no one's tried to steal your work yet.
SU: I'm not sure. If someone has, then I haven't heard of it.
RdL: Or they haven't stolen your work yet.
SU: Maybe I write about subjects that can't easily be reflected in alternative venues. Maybe my style is just really distinctive. Maybe the disclaimers really are doing their job.
RdL: Maybe no one wants to steal your stuff.
SU: Maybe. I cant discount anything at this point.
RdL: Well, your fears of theft would still be justified. But I still don't understand the disclaimers. Don't you already have a license posted on your blog?
SU: That's the Creative Commons License I told you about. It's this free setup, this little thing that says that you're part of an organization that advocates fair use among Net users. When I registered for it, I set my membership up so that it covers all those things I told you about -- that people can use what I've written on the blog, as long as I'm asked permission for it.
RdL: So why the disclaimers?
SU: I had the disclaimers even before I had the license. Besides, the license is always on the bottom of the sidebar, so it might not be immediately obvious to readers. The disclaimers, on the other hand, will usually be the uppermost post for the first few days of each month. And I write about ten posts per month, so they'll usually be on my list of recent posts.
RdL: They're also very creative.
SU: I dress them up so that they're at least interesting to read. What I want to know if they're legally binding.
RdL: Well, my answer is that anything can be legally binding, as long as you cite it clearly in writing. Copyright comes into being at the moment when you create the work.
SU: I think that it would be difficult to argue against my intent to protect my work at this point. There are just so many disclaimer posts now.
RdL: That's your answer, then. I don't think that you can argue one count of plagiarism for every disclaimer you've written, but you can cite obvious intent. People can't say that you intended your blog to be for completely free use... not when you've made a lot of posts to the contrary.
SU: That's good to hear.
RdL: However, I would advise that you tone down the threats.
SU: What threats?
RdL: The ones where you threaten to do things to violators -- like use a baseball bat on them, or feed them to the dogs, or other random acts.
SU: I would, but I'd settle for a legal recourse.
RdL: You mean me.
SU: Yes. You don't have as much impact as a baseball bat or a good-sized German Shepherd, but you'll do. I know a couple of people who would probably scream at the mention of your profession.
RdL: That was uncalled for.
SU: But it's fun. Hey... are you going to finish that?
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