Hello,

I have found it difficult to get back into writing on this blog. I think it is nostalgia's fault... I want to revamp the look of my blog because it feels like it belongs to a version of me that has since been updated, but I don't want to change anything because I like the memories.

So I have created a new blog. It will be more linked to my Twitter and used for when my thoughts don't fit in a Twitter box. You are not obligated to follow it, and I may still write on here sometimes too. Because I am fickle like that.

Anyway; http://ironicobfuscation.blogspot.com/

And I will maybe see you there!

-Lindsey

Murder at Elsinore Manor

Elsinore Manor was a foreboding building at the best of times, but tonight, as we grew closer to where it loomed in the gloom of gathering clouds, while the dark ivy writhed in the wind and tapped at the tall gothic windows from which a faint glow of sickly light was peering into the dim valley, I felt a sense of growing dread. My school friend, Hamlet, had sent me an unexpected telegram and asked that I come as soon as possible. I had not spoken to Hamlet in some time, so I felt certain that this summons was more a matter of business than of catching up between friends. Hamlet knew of my thriving practice as a private consulting detective. Now, as the hired trap pulled up to the manor and the butler swung open the massive wooden doors with an ominous creak, I found myself wishing I had requested more information before coming.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Choric,” the butler intoned disinterestedly. “Young Mr. DeMarco is waiting in the drawing room.”

Hamlet DeMarco had his back to me when I entered. He was leaning on the ornate mantel with one lean arm and staring down into the flickering fire. His shoulders were tense and he was deathly still. I cleared my throat, and he started and turned in one motion, pale as if he had seen a ghost. Then his face cleared with relief upon seeing me. “Horatio!” he exclaimed, “My old friend. I’m so pleased you could make it.” As he said this he moved past me and peered out into the hall. Evidently satisfied, he shut the drawing room door firmly and turned the lock.

“Come,” he said, “sit near the fire. The weather is beginning to turn nasty.” It was not until we were seated that I noticed his appearance. He fell into staring at the fire again when we sat down, and his long thin fingers tapped against the side of the chair nervously. He was pale, with ghastly dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn’t slept for days. His suit was wrinkled, and all black, down to the shirt, which made his face look even paler. His hair was unkempt and hastily swept to one side, and he had patches of stubble on his chin from a careless shave.

“Hamlet,” I said with great concern, “what has happened? Why have you called me to Elsinore?”

“Something is rotten, Horatio,” he said in a low voice, “Something is rotten in the estate of DeMarco.” He looked up from the fire with a strange gleam in his eye. “My father is dead.”

I had not known. I immediately expressed my deepest regrets, which he acknowledged impatiently. When we fell again into silence, he pulled from his jacket pocket a folded piece of paper, which he handed to me. I looked it over curiously. It was covered on one side in writing and appeared to be addressed to the local police. “What’s this?” I asked.

“This,” he leaned toward me and lowered his voice even further, “is a letter written by my father just before his death. It expresses his deep suspicions of a plot against him by my uncle, his brother. A plot to murder him.” Hamlet’s jaw clenched and he gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles white. “He died before he could post the letter.” He released the arm of the chair and ran both hands through his hair, making him look quite wild with it sticking up in odd directions. “Mother inherited everything, of course. And now, just a few months after father’s death, Claudius has asked her to marry him. Is that not suspicious? I know now that they must have been having an affair while father was alive. I never suspected…” He trailed off and rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Have you gone to the police yet, Hamlet?” I asked.

“No, no, and that is where you come in,” he said. “I don’t want Claudius to know that I suspect that my father was murdered. If I go to the police, Claudius is warned; he has time to get rid of evidence and construct an alibi before any kind of investigation can be made. To find this letter was to know my father’s will for me from beyond the grave, and I must obey. I want to be sure of his guilt, Horatio. I need to be able to prove it. Then we can take all the evidence we have to the police, and he—and my mother—will get what they deserve.”

His tone of voice as he pronounced this judgment against his mother frightened me. All the time I had known him, Hamlet had always been unwilling to condemn people; or, at least, unwilling to say his opinion of them. But I could see where he was coming from, and I knew he had a valid point about the benefits of a secret investigation, so I decided to give it a day or two and see if I could help him. I told him as much and he nodded at me gratefully. I stood. “But, Hamlet,” I said, “Realize that this is a dangerous game we are playing. If your uncle Claudius is a murderer, he may be a danger to you as well.”

He looked up at me, head tilted, that curious gleam in his eyes. He smiled a slow, dangerous smile. “I’ve always been good at games,” he said.

I did not sleep well that night. A dream chased me; Hamlet was rushing toward a terrible danger, and turned on me when I tried to stop him.

I was up early, and headed down for breakfast. I was not the first; someone was piling a plate high with breakfast meats when I slid open the door. He turned and raised his eyebrows. The surprise was mutual. It was Hamlet’s school roommate, Reggie Stern. Reggie was a thin, hunched man with an oily slick of thin hair. He was the type to participate in poker night, then go to the dean the next morning and rat out his schoolmates.

“Horatio,” he said in false cheer. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise,” I lied. “What brings you to Elsinore?”

He took a huge bite of food and chewed slowly, rolling it around in his mouth as he rolled around possible answers in his mind. He swallowed. “I was invited.”

“Oh, by Hamlet?”

Another long pause. “No,” he said finally, “by Uncle Claudius.” Reggie lowered his voice then and leaned in, dramatically cupping a hand around his mouth to tell me a secret. “Hamlet is not well, y’know?” He pointed circles around his ear and bugged his eyes out for a moment. “Claudius thought it’d be good for him to see his best schoolmate.” He gestured to himself and tucked into his plate of food, quite self-satisfied.

I managed to keep the disdain from my face until I was at the buffet table and my back was to him. A few minutes later, the doors opened again and a family of three joined me at the buffet table. There was a ponderous old man in an old fashioned three piece suit, pontificating on the value of breakfast to a lithe young man in a sweater. The young man nodded in the right places and ignored everything except his breakfast plate. A young lady followed the pair silently. She was tall and graceful, with short dark hair in a modern style. Her dress was modest without being dowdy, and her face was lively. She acknowledged Reggie and me with a condescending nod and a smile, respectively.

When I sat down at the opposite end of the table from Reggie, she followed and sat across from me. “You must be Horatio,” she said, holding out her hand. I shook it and acknowledged that I was. “When Hamlet let it drop at dinner last night that you were coming, I thought Reggie was going to have a conniption. So I knew I would like you. Are you any good at charades? Hamlet has got a plan for this evening involving charades.” She smiled at me. I began to reply, but then the door slid open once again and Hamlet wafted in like a ghost, wearing the same black suit as the night before. He passed by the buffet table and came immediately to my side at the table.

“Good morning, Mr. DeMarco,” the girl beamed at him.

“Ophelia,” he nodded vaguely in her direction. His eyes wandered the room.

When the doors slid open the final time, Hamlet turned in his chair and stared as Gertrude and Claudius entered the room together. A thick silence fell over the room. The pair took their places at the table as quickly as they could.

Claudius cleared his throat. “Laertes, tell me about your plans to go back to school.”

Laertes sighed, put down his fork and began telling everyone about his school. Ophelia tried to catch Hamlet’s attention and whisper something conspiratorially; he caught her eye and deliberately looked away. She seemed surprised.

“And now Hamlet, my favorite nephew,” Claudius said with a raised eyebrow and an ambiguous level of sincerity. “You are not looking well, son. Black does not do you any favors. Gertrude,” He rubbed his hand on her back possessively, “you agree with me, don’t you?” Gertrude nodded, her brow furrowed with concern. Hamlet’s glare darkened and his hand curled into a fist at his side.

Yet he held his tongue. 

Songwriting

Yesterday I woke up feeling poetic. And then I wrote this song. I worked on it in the afternoon when I should probably have been doing homework, but my epic procrastination skills are another story.



Let me know what you think. Also, any suggestions for a song title? I am nortoriously bad at naming things.

Doctor Who tag

1| If you decided to name your first born child after any Doctor Who character, male or female, who would it be?

"Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All," of course.


2| What is your favourite colour of the Doctor's shoes?

Red, definitely.

3| Look around yourself and name the one thing that is TARDIS blue in your house!

My fingernails, my favorite dress, my laptop.


4| If you could pick who plays the Twelfth Doctor which actor would you choose and why?

I don't have anyone in mind for the Doctor, but I think Jethro (from Midnight) should come back as a companion. Because his character was pretty great, he had a lot of potential, and also I really love the actor, Colin Morgan. He is the main character on Merlin, and his acting skills are fantastic.

 

 

5| The Doctor is going back in time again, which historical era should he visit?

I love to see the Doctor meet Nikola Tesla, Actual Mad Scientist.


6| Would you REALLY go with the Doctor in the TARDIS?

Yes, I think I really would.


7| Who's your favorite Doctor and why?

TEN. Because Coverse sneakers and brainy specs and HAIR and "Welll..." and he always tried to save everyone and he believed in people more than they believed in themselves and THAT COAT billowing out behind him and he saw the incredible beauty in the so-called "ordinary" and he was like fire and ice and rage, but so beautiful and light and love all at the same time, and he had an awful lot of running to do so "ALLONS-Y!"

8| Would you be afraid to spend Christmas in London?

Apprehensive, but not afraid.


9| Do you look at an ordinary screwdriver and think 'this could be a bit more sonic?'

Don't we all?


10| Angel statues, plastic mannequins, Christmas trees - what ordinary everyday object would you love to make an object of terror to Whovians were you Steven Moffat?

That slight movement in your periphrial vision, the tiny shadow in the corner of your eye when there is nothing there. It's all in your mind.


11| The TARDIS lands in your garden and the Doctor steps out. What is the first thing you say to him?

"DOCTOR!"


12| Who is your favorite actor who has played the Doctor so far and why?

David Tennant. Because even in those moments when I disapproved of what the Doctor was doing (*ahem* "Waters of Mars") I still understood why he was acting the way he was and I was still, ultimately, on his side. David Tennant is a phenomenol actor.


13| Have you seen any Classic Doctor Who? If so, which Doctor/episode(s) is your favorite?

I've seen a little bit. I like the fourth Doctor, and I am partial to the first classic Who episode I saw, "The Ark in Space," with the green bubble-wrap bug monster.


14| Which are the creepiest, scariest and all-out meanest baddies in all the Who-niverse?

The Weeping Angels on their first appearance were pretty great. I wish Moffat had let them alone for awhile. Also the Vashta Nerada scare me.


15| Who is/are your favorite Companion(s) and why?

I love Rose, Martha, Donna, Rory, and a bunch of one-episode companions, but I am partial to Donna. She was awesome. I think they spent the most time on actual character development for her.


16| Did you cry more watching Doomsday or The Angels Take Manhattan?

Doomsday. When I finished watching it, I sat there at my computer, sobbing my eyes out. I was almost late for work.


17| What is your favorite quote from the show?

“I am and always will be the optimist. The hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams.”


18| Which Doctor (including all previous regenerations) would you most like to be the companion of, and why?

I think it's clear this is the tenth Doctor.


19| Which of the following are you more scared of, the Daleks, Cybermen, or the Weeping Angles?

Weeping Angels.


20| Who are some of your favorite guest stars in the series?

Colin Morgan, and Carey Mulligan.


21| What was your first experience with Doctor Who and how did you hear about the series?

I heard about it through a friend, watched the first two episodes of NewWho, and thought it was really wierd and not my thing at all. But then I just kept hearing about it everywhere. It seemed like something I SHOULD like. So I watched "Blink" and was completely hooked. After that I went back to the beginning of the ninth Doctor and watched straight through three seasons in a matter of weeks. And things have never been the same.


22| The Ninth Doctor said, 'Fantastic!', Ten said, 'Allons-y', and Eleven says, 'Geronimo'; what would you like to be the signature exclamation of the Twelfth Doctor?

I don't know. Maybe "I don't know!"


23| If you were trapped in an episode, which one would it be?

Tough question. I am trying really hard to think of an episode where nothing horrible would happen to me.


24| Which is your favorite episode with each Doctor (Nine, Ten and Eleven)?

Nine: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances
Ten: Blink, or... Silence in the Library
Eleven: Asylum of the Daleks, maybe

25| After watching a certain Doctor Who episode, did you summon up the courage to try fish sticks and custard?

I have tried it. The custard was slightly burnt, but otherwise it was not bad.

Q&A

I've been tagged! Thanks, Melody.

These are the rules...

1. You must post eleven facts about yourself.

2. You must also answer the eleven questions the awarder has given you and make up eleven questions for your awardees to answer in turn.

3. Tag eleven fellow bloggers

4. Notify them that you've awarded them

5. No tagging back

6. And the eleven blogs you tag must have less than 200 followers.

 

...but I'm not going to follow them. I will do step 2, and tag a few bloggers.

 

Here are Melody's questions:

 

1. What's your favorite hair-and-eye color combination?

I love red hair and green eyes. Also blonde hair. Also dark hair and blue eyes... really I don't have a preference. I think every combination is pretty.

2. Who is an unpopular character you rather like but would find difficult to defend?

I find that Martha Jones is often disliked. She is a companion to the Doctor on Doctor Who. I am guessing that people don't like her because she was in unrequited love with the Doctor... which is one of the reasons I do like her. Because falling for someone who doesn't care for you doesn't make you a weak person. It is a thing that happens.

Martha Jones fell in love with a man who never looked at her that way. Yet she was strong enough to be there for him and be totally awesome. She was clever. She saved the world a few times. No big deal. She took care of people. Shakespeare wrote sonnets about her. She walked all over the world, completely alone, telling a story that saved all of time and caused an entire awful year to have never happened. Martha Jones was epic.

And in the end, she was strong enough to walk away. She knew that as long as she was with the Doctor, she couldn't get over him. She had too much dignity to stay and continue to feel overlooked. So she told the Doctor the truth and left, saving herself and saving her friendship with the Doctor in the long run.

Sorry, I just have a lot of feelings about this character. I would be very interested in seeing the other side, though. If you are a Doctor Who watcher who doesn't like Martha, I would genuinely like to hear your argument.

3. What is your second-favorite version of Pride and Prejudice? (It might be assumed that those who like P&P95 would have P&P05 as their second-favorite and vice versa, but this is not always the case.) And if you haven't seen at least two versions of P&P... why haven't you? :D

I will always be partial to P&P95 with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth... because that was the first Jane Austen I was exposed to and I have loved it for a long time. I like the character development in that version, because I think it is very close to the book. There are problems with it, of course, but you learn to overlook problems in movies you truly love.

So I guess my second favorite version is the modern Youtube version produced by Hank Green. There are over 50 episodes so far, of 3-4 minutes each, and they are so close to the first proposal... it should happen any time now. This version is told as a video blog that Lizzie is keeping. The way they have updated the story has been really clever.

4. What is the book you're most embarrassed to tell people you haven't read when they ask? (Not that I want to embarrass you or anything. Haha.)

I've never read Catcher in the Rye. Nor have I read many of Dickens' works. These are embarrassing because I'm a literature major, so I really should have read more of these classics by now.

I'm also embarrassed not to have read Princess Academy; Palace of Stone. The first one is one of my favorite books, but I just haven't found the time to read the second one.  

5. What is your favorite game? (As in, card and board games.)

I like "Pit" a lot, because it is quick and fun and doesn't take too much talent. I think my favorite, though, is probably "Clue" because I have always loved mysteries.

6. Do you typically write in cursive or printing?

 

 

 

 

 

7. What is something you promised yourself when you were younger that you would never do, but ended up doing later on?

I was very different when I was a kid. I don't much like my past self, honestly. I was very girly and sensitive, and there is nothing wrong with that, but I was also very pretentious about it. I could be very snobby... but I didn't realize it until I grew up a little.

Not that I am perfect now.

Anyway, as one specific example, I never thought I would be interested in science fiction anything. Now I love it.

8. How do you say "era"--"air-uh" or "ear-uh"?

"Air-uh"-- unless I am trying to sound posh.

9. Do you keep a journal/diary, and if so, do you write in it often?

Yes, I do, and I try to write in it at least several times a week. It is essential to my sanity.

10. If you could suddenly have the ability to play an instrument that you've never even tried before, which would you choose?

Piano. Or drums. If the ability to play comes with a free instrument, then maybe mandolin or melodica or something interesting like that.

11. Which fellow blogger are you the most curious to know the looks of? (I mean, admit it. We're all curious, are we not?)

 

I don't know; I never really thought about it.

~~~~~

My questions:

1. What is your favorite character trait in a main character?
2. Who is a character you don't like even though most people seem to love them, and why?
3. What is your ideal job?
4. What is your favorite book from your childhood?
5. Is time travel a possibility? How would it work?
6. Do you like to write stories, poetry, essays, etc.?
7. What is something you always thought you would do that you never ended up doing?
8. Do you have an accent?
9. Do you have a "bucket list" of things you would like to do before you die?
10. What is your favorite meal?
11. What fictional character do you most identify with?

~~~~~

I tag:

Darby
Bree
Grace
Elizabeth

 

Conflicted

The rapidly approaching month of November, with all the novel writing it brings, has got me thinking about the writing process quite a bit lately.

I've been watching the lectures by Brandon Sanderson found at WriteAboutDragons.com, and he give excellent advice on everything from plot to characters to style, and throws gummy bears at students who ask questions in the class, which I found amusing.

One of his lectures got me thinking about conflict in novels... conflict is basically another word for plot, because nothing that happens has any weight unless there is some kind of conflict. The basic, classic conflicts are Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Man, and Man vs. Himself (the word "man" being used as a non-gender-specific word). So any time a character comes up against a tornado, the apocolypse, or an abnormal amount of pollen in the air, that is Man vs. Nature. When they are up against the views of society, against a villain, or just against someone who disagrees with them, that is Man vs. Man. And Man vs. Himself is all about internal conflict... whether it is self-doubt or too much confidence, if the conflict stems from something about the character, that is Man vs. Himself.

I love the use of conflict in plot. But not all conflict. I couldn't figure out the difference for a long time. I would read something or see something and think "Well, yes, there is great conflict there... lots of tension... but I don't like it at all. It feels off somehow."

The thing is, the conflicts I love are inevitable conflicts. They are neccessary. When I read a plot twist, my should reaction should be "How could I have not seen this coming?!" You can't just throw characters in opposition to each other, you have to make sure that, given the circumstances, this is the thing that had to happen, because if it didn't, the things you love about the characters would be false. When everything you love about two elements is on the line and conflicting with each other, you have found a good use of conflict.

Ukulele

And in the interests of updating people on my life now, here is me in a video. I play the ukulele now, kinda. My ukulele is quite pretentiously named Hypatia Persephone.

Time is a tricky thing

Eveything is different now.

When I say "everything" I mean both the tangible and intangible, reality-based and imaginary... Blogger looks different, for one thing, and I feel strange coming back to it, like one of those days where you take a nap and when you wake up everything feels slightly wrong, like an alternate reality.

Putting Blogger aside, I feel like I am an alternate reality... I am such a different person now than I was when I started this blog, and yet I am the same. The person I am now contains the person I was then, but that is no longer eveything.

I live in a different city now, in an apartment. Near enough that I go home every weekend. I live in perpetual conflict of emotion--it feels really good to be independent, and to be in school again after a long summer, and to have a place that is my own. I also really miss my family.

I stopped using Blogger because I had become someone who didn't need it anymore. For quite awhile, I didn't have anything to say. Now, I think, I have things to say and not many people to whom to say them.

I wonder: do I still have followers? Will this post show up on anyone's dashboard? Do any followers I may have even remember who I am? Will I ever stop with the rhetorical questions?

Only time will tell.

Helllooooo!

I am still alive and life goes on. I have not blogged in what feels like forever. I hope you are still here, unknown people to whom I am writing.

This morning I got up early, started the coffee pot, reset my alarm, and collapsed back into bed for 15 more minutes of sleep. This is typical. Then I had my coffee, checked my email, looked at pictures of shoes, and played my ukulele for awhile.

Are these shoes not adorable? They remind me of Ms. Frizzle, fictional teacher extraordinaire.

Then I got ready to go and took off in the car. I listen to Phineas and Ferb soundtracks in the car more than I can admit without sounding silly. But you can't tell me this is not a fun song:

Potential vlogger here

I have been contemplating the idea of video-blogging, and why I should or should not give it a try.

PROS:

1. I love to talk about things I love, as long as I have time to prepare what I'm going to say and as long as people are listening. While I am not the best speaker in "real life," that is usually because I get really nervous and over-analyze everything I'm trying to say. Video would prevent that and give me an outlet. I don't do a lot of talking in real life.

2. I love watching Youtube videos and want to be more of a participant.

CONS:

1. I tend to be better at written communication than spoken. I like to use good grammar and vocabulary and sentence structure, and I think I do a decent job of this in writing, but when I am talking to someone, I am always afraid they will think I'm pretentious for using big words or placing my prepositions in the correct place in the sentence instead of leaving them dangling at the end. Plus, I feel pretentious, because I usually say one really great sentence and follow it up with something so unintelligible that the contrast is embarrassing; it makes it look like I don't actually know what I'm talking about, but I'm trying to sound smart.

2. I am terrified of rejection. 


Anyway, what I have been considering doing is making a video or a series of videos that attempt to explain punctuation rules in an interesting way. While I have been working as a tutor, I have come up with a couple of different ways of explaining things depending on the level of the person I am tutoring. They seem to work most of the time. I think making a video would help me refine my teaching methods and also give me helpful feedback on whether or not they work. What do you guys think?

~Jane~

*A door creaks open*

Everyone has a world inside their head. Probably more than one. There are ways of getting from one world to another, but some of them are limited. You can take something from the physical world, for example, and use it to furnish the world in your head. The doors into your mind from the physical world are your senses... sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell.

You can even transport items or people from the world in your mind into someone else', whether through spoken word, fiction, sign language, poetry, television, etc. There are many doors between minds.

When you read a book, a door is opened wide between your mind and the author's. These doors are outside of time. You can have a direct connection to the mind of someone long dead.

The only door that either does not exist or simply can never be opened in this life is the door leading from your mind into the world. Once you have created something in the world in your mind, it is trapped. It can never enter the physical world. It can never make its own decisions. You have created a prisoner.

The only freedom available to your creations is access to the doors between minds. If you die without opening the doors, your creations will die with you. So don't be afraid to open the doors. Write books or songs or poetry or television, tell people your thoughts, and doors will be opened that may last forever.

As you have read this blog post, a door was opened between my mind and yours. This door transcends the bounds of time. I am writing these very words at 4:45 on Wednesday the 23rd. You are reading them at some point in the future. That is the power of language.


~Jane~

The Great Book List--book reviews

This summer I posted a page called The Great Book List, which is a list of all the books I would like to have read by next year. Since then, I have read three of those books: Macbeth, The Great Gatsby, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Macbeth

Macbeth is dark. It is full of murder and horribly unhappy people. It is a Shakespearian tragedy that doesn't give you any characters to like and wish to have a happy ending. However, this darkness is part of what makes it a brilliant play. Unlike most stories, this play is about the villain. Macbeth, along with his wife, is a man who allows bitterness and greed and a lust for power to not only control him, but become him. He falls into temptation, and at first what he is doing horrifies him, but soon he accepts it and eventually it defines him. This is a powerful story. When something becomes part of your life, it becomes a piece of your definition of "normal." In this story, a pattern of destruction and death becomes Macbeth's "normal," and he reaps the consequences of that.

Macbeth may be dark, but it is beautifully written. Here are Macbeth's conclusions near the end of the novel, when the things he has done finally turn against him. 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

 I don't believe this view of life, but I believe that Macbeth believes it, and that makes it important. Shakespeare gives us a door into this character's head and shows us exactly what it feels like to be completely lost.

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby sort of danced by me in a whirlwind of color and noise, like one of Gatsby's parties. There is something important going on beneath the surface, but I forget to find it because I am distracted by the shiny things.

This book has been called a "love letter to the 1920s," but I think the author has already seen through the artifices of Gatsby's hopelessly nostalgic attitude and is trying to lead the reader to the same conclusion. Gatsby is trying to reinvent himself, to write a new past for himself in the present. He is so focused on becoming Gatsby and getting Daisy back, that he doesn't see what is going on beneath the surface. He doesn't see that he doesn't love Daisy, he loves the idea of Daisy with all her sparkle and a voice that "sounds like money."

The last sentence in the novel reflects this attitude of relentless nostalgia: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

While somewhat difficult to understand due to the phonetic dialect, the original unabridged version of this book is worth reading. After a chapter or two, you will get used to the writing style, and the story benefits from being written this way.

There is a lot that happens in this book that I don't fully understand yet, because I went through it so fast. What I do want to talk about is the ending. I had heard that Mark Twain got sick of writing this book and rushed the ending, and this may or may not be true. What the ending does do is make me hate Tom Sawyer. I am not sure what Twain intended by the way he wrote these last chapters, but it left me with an extreme dislike of Tom Sawyer, and a nagging shame for Huckleberry Finn for following him. I cannot decide if their pranks in the last chapter were supposed to seem funny, cruel, or both. I can't find anything funny about the pranks of two boys causing needless suffering for another person, and I think perhaps that was Twain's underhanded jab at other children's literature of the time.

What do you think about the last chapters of Huckleberry Finn?

Any thoughts on the other books I reviewed?

~Jane~

50 people, 500 words

One day in creative writing class, one of my class mates raised her hand and asked, "How many characters should you have in one piece? Are there any rules about that?"

And my teacher replied, "There aren't any rules--you can have as many characters as you want. Just be careful that the audience can keep track of them. Too many characters can become boring--for instance, you probably wouldn't want to squeeze 50 characters into... 500 words."

He was using hyperbole when he said this, because no writer was going to try to fit 50 different people into only 500 words.

I, however, chose to ignore the hyperbole.

I took his statement as a personal challenge to my skills.

So,without further ado, here are 500 words about 50 people in a restaurant eating Saturday brunch.

The gentleman in an outdated suit rants politics at the girl who smiles, all except her eyes. The biker scowls at the girl as he leaves. He ran away from home and drunken wife.

The mother of five is reading Stephen King. Her oldest boy plots to startle her. Her five year old refuses to speak to the brunette cheerleader with a blinding smile.

A librarian who secretly loves parkour enters primly next to a skater-boy who claims he never reads.

His sisters trail behind; twins, hand in hand. One hates being a twin but will never tell. The other silently guesses this.

The crazy cat lady, all alone, doesn’t actually own cats. The freshman, one table over, knows this but taunts her anyway.

His friend, the sophomore, is cruel because his mother is drunk because her husband ran away.

The jock hides behind teasing and wishes she knew, but the blonde isn’t flirting, she’s being polite.

Two scrabble-players deliberate in icy silence.

A tomboy scorns the blonde for flirting and scorns herself for not knowing how. Her boyfriend is thinking but doesn’t say how glad he is to have her.

The cat lady’s grandson comes to her defense. She didn’t want him to.

Pink hair covers one book-lover’s eyes. She wants to talk to the mother of five but doesn’t.

A skinny girl meets her sister. She is self-conscious. Her sister is chubby and okay with it and happy. Their brother enters, covered in tattoos. The librarian leaves before he can recognize her.

A schoolmate sees the twins, but can’t tell them apart so doesn’t acknowledge them. His father reads the paper. His mother sits sighing, vying for attention.

A group of friends laugh from the corner. A boy who likes his sister’s best friend is trying too hard. The sister and the other boy share a glance. Everyone knows but the one who should.

The overworked waiter is about their age. They ignore him. His coworker sees and decides to misplace their food. She smiles at him but he is tired.

The manager tries to calm the political man as he raves.

The cat lady’s boyfriend comes to get her in a jeep. Pink hair brushes past him. No one sees her leave.

One of the scrabble players is cheating.

A person at a middle table scribbles notes on a napkin. A bearded man nearby wonders what but never asks. His mom finally shows up, half an hour late on his birthday. She forgot. He worries.

The hostess’ smile is empty. She wonders how long she can hide her pregnancy. The busboy with a crush sees her fear. He spills on an elderly woman no one noticed until now.

Three cooks are shouting over misplaced food.

A toddler presses his face against the glass partition. The twelve year old on the other side who always wanted a brother does the same and gets yelled at by his flustered single father.  His soul mate walks in. He doesn’t notice.

I didn't intend for this to be so depressing when I took the challenge, but it occurred to me that people tend to focus on themselves and ignore the people around them. There are people you encounter every day who have things going on in their lives right now--good things or bad things, and you never stop to think about what those things are or the little ways you can help them.

When I was in Florida, (I went to Florida to stay with my Aunt for two weeks and did all kinds of Flordian things by myself and forgot to tell you people anything about it. Oops.) I went to an Ihop by myself to get lunch and met a waitress who told me she had stopped at the dollar store the night before and someone had mugged her in the parking lot and stolen her purse. She was really freaked out about this and unsure of what she was going to do about her credit cards and everything, but she also told me that her daughter had shown up unexpectedly for a visit that morning. She hadn't seen her in months because they lived in separate states and couldn't afford to travel much. She was so upset by one event and so thrilled by the other, that she couldn't help but share them with me, a perfect stranger, and my life was made more rich by finding out about her life. I saw through someone else's eyes for a moment. I felt the excitement and joy with her of a perfectly timed visit from someone she loves, right when life seemed like it was out to get her.

There is a point to this. We need to be aware of the people around us, even the ones with whom we feel we have nothing in common. They have hopes and loves and hates and horrors going on in their lives as you do in yours. Life is about finding the connections.


~Jane~

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

 

Basically, that is how my novel is coming along.

NaNoWriMo! (Beautiful People)

Georgie Penn is doing a special NaNoWriMo edition of her "beautiful people" tag,* so I thought I would participate. I would have done it sooner, but I literally did not know what I was writing about until just now. Yes, I am aware that NaNoWriMo begins in three hours. I am not a very plan-y person.

*I would link the awesome "beautiful people" badge, but A: I am lazy, and B: I have two and a half hours to plan a novel.

1. Sum up your novel in five words, or less.

Misguided steampunk knight gets lost.

2. Novel title?

Prophecies are Sometimes Wrong*

*Not really, but I haven't named it yet so this will be the working title.

3. Sum up your main character(s) in one word.

I don't know yet.

4. Advice for newbies in three words?

Coffee
Rewards*
2,000**

*I use a short term reward system because I am impatient... every paragraph or so I get another M&M or Skittle.
**I recommend writing 2,000 words a day instead of 1,667, both because it is easier to remember and because you will love the extra words around the end of week two.

5. Tell us about your secondary characters, how do they affect the story?

Well, I haven't exactly fleshed them out yet. I know the main character will team up with at least two or three other people who may or may not be insane, and some of whom have their own enemies to deal with.

6. Do you plan on staying up till midnight on the 31st?

Absolutely.

7. How many years have you done NaNo?

This will be my fourth year. I won the first two and didn't finish last year. Hopefully this one will be more successful.

8. What came first, characters, or plot idea?

Let me show you the first thing I jotted in my notebook about ten minutes ago. These are pretty much my first thoughts, word-for-word.

Maybe a story of someone who is proficied to be "the one" who is completely not the one. Gets lost on his way to the battlefront to save the day; has adventures along the way while constantly hearing news of battles being won without him. Ends up finding a different quest and meeting lots of friends. Maybe one of the friends has an enemy?

**written sideways next to this** Set in kinda a steampunk King Arthur's world.

Okay, truthfully, this is all I have written down.

9. How much prep do you do before November?

Hahahahaha.

10. Now be honest, how do you really feel about NaNo?

Today, as I was thinking about the fact that it starts tonight, I said to myself, out loud, "Are you insane?!"

And yet I am still attempting it.

In my opinion...

Sometimes I realize that my opinions are not the solid ground I thought I was standing on, but are closer akin to childhood toys: played with, rejected, loved, discarded, changed to have snazzy asymmetrical haircuts and crookedly home fashioned clothes, or kept, in the original box, with the original accessories, gathering dust as though I were still a child of ten who is obsessed with Babysitter Barbie’s lime green blow-up plastic babysitting chair.

And this terrifies me.

Sometimes I realize that I am holding an opinion the way I would realize that I am standing in the middle of the street holding someone else’s wombat—there is no logical reason for it, I’m not entirely sure where it came from and it could kill me, not out of malice, but simply because of its basic nature.

Sometimes I realize I am holding an opinion on one hand, and holding an opposite opinion on the other hand, as if I have eaten my cake and yet still possess it—something I acknowledge I am doing while at the same time asserting it to be impossible, creating a logical paradox that I could never possibly understand while holding a wombat.

And sometimes I realize that when I analyze my opinions, I begin to liken them to dolls and small furry creatures and baked goods to try to fathom what it is I am doing with them. But these analogies are not enough. An opinion is something that is driving my actions and controlling where I go, whether I am aware or not—something large and full of explosives. That is why the closest I can come to describing the danger of holding opinions is being a Babysitter Barbie lime green blow-up plastic babysitting chair obsessed ten year old holding a wombat in one hand and eating cake with the other, blissfully unaware of the fact that she is in sole control of a battle tank on full throttle.

Be a ninja

Okay, I was recently convicted about the fact that I believe in certain things but I wasn't doing anything about those beliefs. I realized that part of the problem is that in order to do anything big, it helps to have a network of other Christians.

Then I thought, we are living in a world where everything is connected via the internet. Why aren't Christians using the internet more fully to organize and fellowship and just be connected to one another?

So I started a website specifically for that purpose. Please join and read the "about" page and add stuff and let me know what you think could be better.

www.truthninjas.ning.com

Jane

Life vs. the Internet

I spent the past week without the internet. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

See, sometimes I start spending more and more time on the internet, doing things that just waste my time. I have active accounts on Blogger, Facebook, Twitter, Protagonize, Pinterest and Polyvore. Just checking them is a time eater, and once you are on they suck you in and you end up spending hours.

Sometimes it begins to feel like your online identity is who you really are, that the internet is real life, and everything else you do is just what you're doing when you're not on the internet.

I decided last week that I don't want my life to revolve around computers, I want the internet to be something I use occasionally when I'm not out living my life. 

Here's some stuff I learned this week:

My life doesn't require the internet. I did hop on maybe twice for school assignments, but I didn't look at any of my favorite websites. I didn't even really miss it. It was almost a relief to have more time for other things without feeling like I could be on Facebook and was missing out.

Life is fantastic all on its own. There is plenty to do without getting on the computer. I read about three books this week. I haven't been doing much reading lately and it was nice to get back into it. I forgot how much I adore books. 

My family won't leave me in the dark about important things. I didn't miss out as much as I thought I would. One of my biggest reasons (excuses) to get on Facebook and Twitter every day was to see what all my friends and family are up to. I got back on today and I honestly hadn't missed very much. There was only one or two things I really needed to know right away and my family told me about them when they happened.

There is nothing prettier than a ripe cornfield, russet-gold against a blue sky. I have a new habit of taking the back roads whenever I can, because I can. It may take a few minutes longer, but I had extra time this week that I wasn't spending in front of the computer.

I found myself noticing things for their own sake, not as a potential status update, tweet or blog post. I used to think, "that was funny, I should remember that for when I get on Twitter later." It's more fun to be able to laugh enthusiastically and relax, with no pressure to remember what was so funny so you can share it with your world.

Anyway, I just thought I would share my revelations with you. I will be on the internet now, but I am still going to try not to make a habit of it. I want to make a habit of living a real life.

~Jane~

There's always today

I love the idea of today.

Most people love the idea of tomorrow, the promise of the future with all of its sparkle and shiny things, and they say that "there's always tomorrow," "the sun'll come out tomorrow," you can believe in tomorrow. I prefer to believe in today.

Because, when you think about it, tomorrow doesn't happen without today. What we do today changes tomorrow, and today would have been completely different if people had made different choices yesterday.

That idea sounds daunting at first, and extremely intimidating. It makes you stop and think about what you're doing, because anything can make a difference.

Today, as I was walking out of class, one of the other students made eye contact, smiled at me, and continued with her life. It may not have seemed like a big deal, but sometimes it takes one smile to make you realize how few smiles are exchanged at eight o'clock on a Monday morning. It made my morning better and I made a conscious effort to smile at other students on my way out.  If my smile inspired each of them to smile at others, then that one girl who decided to smile at someone on a Monday morning potentially made it a better Monday morning for dozens of people. Little gestures like that tend to have a ripple effect.

See what I mean about the actions of one person making a difference?

Now, there are two conflicting ideas about how today affects tomorrow. The first idea is what I've been saying, that everything we do today makes the future better or worse. The other idea is "don't sweat the small stuff." You have to take the long view and stop worrying about the little things because in twenty years it won't make a difference in your life. This theory comes in handy when you are having a bad hair day, or when you do something particularly stupid. It's nice to think that with time, everyone will forget about you tripping down the stairs or having something stuck in your teeth.

The beauty of it, and the reason that I really love the idea of today, is that both of these theories work. Smiling at someone will definitely brighten up their day, and may lead to them brightening up other people's days, which may lead to the whole world being just a little brighter, but chances are that the original smile will eventually be forgotten, along with the things you want people to forget. The person who received the smile may not even remember why their morning suddenly got better.

This should not be a discouraging thought. It just means that we get to live in a world where you can do stupid things and no one will hold them against you, and if you choose to make the most of your todays, you get to live in the tomorrow you helped create. Even if no one remembers your smile brightening their day, you will know that when someone smiles at you the next day, it could be part of the ripple effect you put in motion.

~Jane~

Profundity

I've come to a point where I'm just mature enough to realize that I am still immature in many, many ways. For example, I have always tended to think that whatever I'm interested in at that very moment must be the coolest thing to be interested in. I've been really into Doctor Who (British science fiction show) lately, and now when I meet someone who has never heard of it I am inevitably surprised by the fact. There is no reason for everyone in the world to suddenly know about this TV show just because I really like it. In fact, a few months ago, I had never heard of it.

I guess the fact that I'm realizing that I do this is a good sign. I've been consciously trying not to think of myself as the center of everything now.

Another random thought... why do we think of time as being linear when almost everything else in nature is kinda circular? The water cycle is a circle: water evaporates and turns into clouds then turns into rain and fills the lakes and oceans and then evaporates and starts over. The seasons are circular as well. It is always the same pattern every year, with spring, summer, autumn and winter repeating themselves. If that is a pattern found throughout nature, could time have some circular elements as well?

Just speculating. Even though time travel is inherently paradoxical, it is fun to think about the possibilities.

~Jane~