Friday, January 8, 2010
Please Note This
Next time I hear the song "Summer Days" from the musical GREASE, I will jump off a very high cliff--which is notoriously difficult to find in the middle of Kansas.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
An Essay on the Martian Book
Sometime ago researchers discovered an artifact on the planet Mars. It was a highly sophisticated series of paper tablets that were bound by some highly sophisticated adhesive—at least two generations more advanced than spit. At first the scientists believed it to be pure gibberish so they gave it to a group of more optimistic scientists who determined it was in fact a written language. Within 30 minutes they had the entire language translated—but that was only because they took a 15-minute coffee break. After translating the language, nobody read the ancient alien artifact, so they determined it was a political memoir.
At this point, the alien book was given to me, a literary critic, to determine the relevance and decide upon which class middle school students should be forced to read it. As I hope the alien writings were not meant to be entertaining, I will not tire my own readers with trivialities such as characters or plot, but rather focus on the context, themes and importance of said work.
From what I can interpret, this book was written by some sort of ostracized tribal queen. But rather than rolling around in lavish royal benefits, this was a position of duty and responsibility. And while the queen clearly sought power and influence, she only did so in the name of defending her tribal people—presumably unable to defend themselves. This is not to say her people were inferior in anyway; in fact by any conceivable measurement they were superior in every way. Her people were the most dedicated, the strongest, the most intelligent, kind, (Martian) worldly and moral. It is fitting than that she was their leader, as there is none who carried any of these qualities more than this tribal queen. At any point she makes this particular assertion though, she quickly counters it with nun-like modesty.
However this plain-Martian-speaking tribal queen was only one of thousands of royal members in her society. Unfortunately it seems their society collapsed, as the corrupt, incompetent and mean-spirited leaders were more persuasive to the masses. And while the queen identified pockets of intelligent thought, they were usually ousted from their limited power holds--herself included. The way she describes the leaders and policies of the antagonistic leaders seems nothing short of societal suicide. Only this queen and a few of her peers bothered to assess their planet’s history and think about the future. However her clear thinking and obvious reasoning was purposefully distorted, or withheld, from the masses, leading to her political expulsion. This is a horrify depiction of a once-great society that fell from grace.
Unfortunately this work was an autobiography, so we can never fully know what came of this banished tribal queen who prided herself on her loyal, and apparently sizable, following. What is certain is that Mars is now devoid of intelligent life. Granted, some new forms of bacteria were discovered on the planet, but none of them have been able to learn past the fifth letter in our alphabet. My guess would be that this queen never obtained any greater political power, as the planet is so irreversibly damaged. Moreover, any other alien books that are discovered should be immediately burned as they are undoubtedly filled with lies and misinformation.
And regarding Mars in general…wait. Have I been writing “Mars” this whole time? Shoot. I meant “Earth.” Whatever. I’m not going to proof-read this.
At this point, the alien book was given to me, a literary critic, to determine the relevance and decide upon which class middle school students should be forced to read it. As I hope the alien writings were not meant to be entertaining, I will not tire my own readers with trivialities such as characters or plot, but rather focus on the context, themes and importance of said work.
From what I can interpret, this book was written by some sort of ostracized tribal queen. But rather than rolling around in lavish royal benefits, this was a position of duty and responsibility. And while the queen clearly sought power and influence, she only did so in the name of defending her tribal people—presumably unable to defend themselves. This is not to say her people were inferior in anyway; in fact by any conceivable measurement they were superior in every way. Her people were the most dedicated, the strongest, the most intelligent, kind, (Martian) worldly and moral. It is fitting than that she was their leader, as there is none who carried any of these qualities more than this tribal queen. At any point she makes this particular assertion though, she quickly counters it with nun-like modesty.
However this plain-Martian-speaking tribal queen was only one of thousands of royal members in her society. Unfortunately it seems their society collapsed, as the corrupt, incompetent and mean-spirited leaders were more persuasive to the masses. And while the queen identified pockets of intelligent thought, they were usually ousted from their limited power holds--herself included. The way she describes the leaders and policies of the antagonistic leaders seems nothing short of societal suicide. Only this queen and a few of her peers bothered to assess their planet’s history and think about the future. However her clear thinking and obvious reasoning was purposefully distorted, or withheld, from the masses, leading to her political expulsion. This is a horrify depiction of a once-great society that fell from grace.
Unfortunately this work was an autobiography, so we can never fully know what came of this banished tribal queen who prided herself on her loyal, and apparently sizable, following. What is certain is that Mars is now devoid of intelligent life. Granted, some new forms of bacteria were discovered on the planet, but none of them have been able to learn past the fifth letter in our alphabet. My guess would be that this queen never obtained any greater political power, as the planet is so irreversibly damaged. Moreover, any other alien books that are discovered should be immediately burned as they are undoubtedly filled with lies and misinformation.
And regarding Mars in general…wait. Have I been writing “Mars” this whole time? Shoot. I meant “Earth.” Whatever. I’m not going to proof-read this.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Cornerstone of Legos
The cornerstone of Legos is a Lego. Aiden knew this when he was playing with his Legos, but he didn’t know why. On the floor of his room he dumped out his tub of Legos, briefly grimacing at the loud, clunky, flow of blocks. An afternoon sun warmed half of Aiden’s room but the world outside his room was asleep. Aiden scooted around the pile of Legos and ran his palm-sized hand straight down the middle, like he always did. He then scooted on his knees back to where he started, now behind one pile of Legos, putting the other pile out of his reach.
Aiden ran his fingers through his pile of Legos to find the little Lego people he was sure to have. Aiden found and held three Lego people. A pirate, a police officer and a plain person. Aiden also found Lego hair and put it on the plain person. Aiden then looked at the pile of Legos across from his nearest pile. Aiden could see at least two Lego people. Also he could see the police officer’s hat. However, Aiden did not move from the Legos directly in front of him. He continued to take a general inventory of what Lego pieces lay before him and broke apart pieces of Legos that were stuck together from yesterday.
Aiden put down a red block and put a blue block next to it, not connecting them. Aiden lined out a square of blocks that could comfortably house his three people. He looked at the other pile. It had not moved. Pieces were separated and no foundation had been laid. Aiden used his little Lego people to move the next pieces and build up the square he had made. The Lego pirate, police officer and plain person worked together, though only one at a time could move. They built up a fort and had a fence circling the top tier. Above the ladder, the Lego people had installed a door on its side that would then swing downward to knock intruders off the top of the ladder.
Yet the other pile, the other one-half of Aiden’s Legos, did not move. They did not build a fort or a boat or even a wall. Aiden listened to his three Lego people talk about going over to the other pile to get the satellite dish that they could see. They decided to not go over and get it. Instead they moved around their own fort and built a window into one of the walls. The extra pieces were then used to make the lookout tower a little taller. The police officer stood on the lookout tower.
After concluding the fort was pretty good and that the other pile would remain a pile, Aiden stealthily made his way out of his bedroom and into the living room. He was pretty sure the world was still asleep so he made sure to not step on the fourth stair--as that stair always squeaked. In the living room downstairs, Aiden turned on the television and instantly hit the volume button down nearly a dozen times.
Aiden ran his fingers through his pile of Legos to find the little Lego people he was sure to have. Aiden found and held three Lego people. A pirate, a police officer and a plain person. Aiden also found Lego hair and put it on the plain person. Aiden then looked at the pile of Legos across from his nearest pile. Aiden could see at least two Lego people. Also he could see the police officer’s hat. However, Aiden did not move from the Legos directly in front of him. He continued to take a general inventory of what Lego pieces lay before him and broke apart pieces of Legos that were stuck together from yesterday.
Aiden put down a red block and put a blue block next to it, not connecting them. Aiden lined out a square of blocks that could comfortably house his three people. He looked at the other pile. It had not moved. Pieces were separated and no foundation had been laid. Aiden used his little Lego people to move the next pieces and build up the square he had made. The Lego pirate, police officer and plain person worked together, though only one at a time could move. They built up a fort and had a fence circling the top tier. Above the ladder, the Lego people had installed a door on its side that would then swing downward to knock intruders off the top of the ladder.
Yet the other pile, the other one-half of Aiden’s Legos, did not move. They did not build a fort or a boat or even a wall. Aiden listened to his three Lego people talk about going over to the other pile to get the satellite dish that they could see. They decided to not go over and get it. Instead they moved around their own fort and built a window into one of the walls. The extra pieces were then used to make the lookout tower a little taller. The police officer stood on the lookout tower.
After concluding the fort was pretty good and that the other pile would remain a pile, Aiden stealthily made his way out of his bedroom and into the living room. He was pretty sure the world was still asleep so he made sure to not step on the fourth stair--as that stair always squeaked. In the living room downstairs, Aiden turned on the television and instantly hit the volume button down nearly a dozen times.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Ender's Other Game
In Orson Scott Card's sci-fi novel "Ender's Game," there is a side story about two kids (Peter and Valentine) who access a futuristic version of the Internet. Because their viral arguments are so well researched and reasoned, they develop an online following of readers. In fact, without having their identities exposed, they become published writers and grow a readership of millions. Basically this is the dream/expectation of anyone who blogs on a regular basis. The goal is to have a reader base. The goal is to make a difference in the world around you and that can only happen when people are aware of you...theoretically.
I think there is a contradiction in striving for original opinions yet reaching for as many people as possible too agree with you. I feel the best writers--or other artists for that matter--reach people in a way they understand but inspire thoughts never thought before in a way never seen, heard, smelled or felt before.
Actually I going to take my own advice right now and restrain my long-winded tendencies about setting writing/artistic standards and cut to the main point I was going to somehow get around to making: quality in any facet of life is roughly 20% luck, 30% skill, 50% effort. And more and more, effort seems to be a "yes-or-no" situation rather than a spectrum.
Also, in "Ender's Game" the online reader fan base eventually demands Peter and Valentine be put in real political power--as the current leaders were weak and ineffective. Peter and Valentine step into these roles and change society for the better--with Ender's help of course. However I don't think this is the actual end goal for any blogger; including myself, as I wouldn't mind living vicariously through someone I knew I inspired. Still...the entertainment business pays better than the world of politics.
This post was kind of all over the place. Good.
I think there is a contradiction in striving for original opinions yet reaching for as many people as possible too agree with you. I feel the best writers--or other artists for that matter--reach people in a way they understand but inspire thoughts never thought before in a way never seen, heard, smelled or felt before.
Actually I going to take my own advice right now and restrain my long-winded tendencies about setting writing/artistic standards and cut to the main point I was going to somehow get around to making: quality in any facet of life is roughly 20% luck, 30% skill, 50% effort. And more and more, effort seems to be a "yes-or-no" situation rather than a spectrum.
Also, in "Ender's Game" the online reader fan base eventually demands Peter and Valentine be put in real political power--as the current leaders were weak and ineffective. Peter and Valentine step into these roles and change society for the better--with Ender's help of course. However I don't think this is the actual end goal for any blogger; including myself, as I wouldn't mind living vicariously through someone I knew I inspired. Still...the entertainment business pays better than the world of politics.
This post was kind of all over the place. Good.
Monday, January 4, 2010
You Can See Me
Six friends sat at a circular table in a bar. The table would have comfortably sat four, but the intimate circle knew how to squeeze in six. After sometime of greeting and talking and laughing, their seventh friend, Marley, showed up.
“Hey Marley!” most everybody greeted in some variation.
Marley smiled but immediately noticed she wouldn’t fit at the table. There was no empty space, which was particularly burning to Marley, as she could turn into empty space. More specifically, Marley had the most unusual affliction of uncontrollable invisibility.
Like how some people sneeze, burp or fart, Marley would turn completely invisible for an indefinite amount of time at a moment’s notice. While this made Marley popular at some point, years later, her friends stopped bringing attention to it; and sometimes, Marely hoped--and feared--that they had forgotten about her power altogether.
“Pull up another table, Marley” someone suggested.
Marley forced an agreeing smile and did as told--finding an empty table and dragging it over. She touched her own circle table to the edge of her friends’ table, two of whom took the awkward seat on either side of the connecting point. Both friends, ever so slightly, kept their feet pointed toward the table of six.
Thirty minutes ago, Marley had asked a friend to the movies. The friend retorted a suggestion that Marley come to the bar and be with all the other friends. Marley felt accusing questions burning inside her.
“If I hadn’t of called you, were you ever going to have invited me here? At what point was somebody going to say, ‘Where’s Marley? I miss her company. She would make our lives more fun right now’?” Marley screamed in her head, “Am I not a part of this circle of friends?”
Marley knew she had no right to be angry. She knew her friends meant no harm and she knew they were her friends. But she couldn’t conjure up a memory wherein she was a part of an established circle and didn’t fully open it up--physically and conversationally--when someone arrived later.
Marley looked at her hand. It wasn’t there. Nor were Marley’s legs or body. Marely made a face nobody could see and rolled a pair of eyes that could still see everyone else. Marley stood up and walked to the bathroom, dodging other patrons—who might as well have been blind.
But before Marley made it too the bathroom, she saw an incredibly beautiful guy at the bar watching her. Their eyes met and he looked away, embarrassed he had been caught. Marley glanced at her hand. Her hand was smooth, slender and the color of a lioness, with white finger nail polish. Marley smiled to herself then looked back up at the boy. This time their eyes met and he did not look away, but smiled.
It was actually Marley who looked away. She looked toward her friends’ table but only saw a pair of tables behind her. Marley knew her friends didn’t leave her, at least not forever; they’d be back in sight eventually. And until then, Marley was going to let this kind-smiled guy buy her a drink.
“Hey Marley!” most everybody greeted in some variation.
Marley smiled but immediately noticed she wouldn’t fit at the table. There was no empty space, which was particularly burning to Marley, as she could turn into empty space. More specifically, Marley had the most unusual affliction of uncontrollable invisibility.
Like how some people sneeze, burp or fart, Marley would turn completely invisible for an indefinite amount of time at a moment’s notice. While this made Marley popular at some point, years later, her friends stopped bringing attention to it; and sometimes, Marely hoped--and feared--that they had forgotten about her power altogether.
“Pull up another table, Marley” someone suggested.
Marley forced an agreeing smile and did as told--finding an empty table and dragging it over. She touched her own circle table to the edge of her friends’ table, two of whom took the awkward seat on either side of the connecting point. Both friends, ever so slightly, kept their feet pointed toward the table of six.
Thirty minutes ago, Marley had asked a friend to the movies. The friend retorted a suggestion that Marley come to the bar and be with all the other friends. Marley felt accusing questions burning inside her.
“If I hadn’t of called you, were you ever going to have invited me here? At what point was somebody going to say, ‘Where’s Marley? I miss her company. She would make our lives more fun right now’?” Marley screamed in her head, “Am I not a part of this circle of friends?”
Marley knew she had no right to be angry. She knew her friends meant no harm and she knew they were her friends. But she couldn’t conjure up a memory wherein she was a part of an established circle and didn’t fully open it up--physically and conversationally--when someone arrived later.
Marley looked at her hand. It wasn’t there. Nor were Marley’s legs or body. Marely made a face nobody could see and rolled a pair of eyes that could still see everyone else. Marley stood up and walked to the bathroom, dodging other patrons—who might as well have been blind.
But before Marley made it too the bathroom, she saw an incredibly beautiful guy at the bar watching her. Their eyes met and he looked away, embarrassed he had been caught. Marley glanced at her hand. Her hand was smooth, slender and the color of a lioness, with white finger nail polish. Marley smiled to herself then looked back up at the boy. This time their eyes met and he did not look away, but smiled.
It was actually Marley who looked away. She looked toward her friends’ table but only saw a pair of tables behind her. Marley knew her friends didn’t leave her, at least not forever; they’d be back in sight eventually. And until then, Marley was going to let this kind-smiled guy buy her a drink.
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