L'Ecume des jours

This has been an odd week. First, Harold and I drove to Ralphs in Mira Mesa to shop around 10:30 Sunday night. I've been going shopping with Harold lately, so I can get the food I want, rather than the generic crapola he usually buys on the cheap.

Oh, I should have known things were not about to go well, when we missed my tall red head at the cashier's. Yipes! Not looking good there, after 3 missed weeks. Anyway...

We left the store about midnight, groceries in tow. When we got into the van, we discovered it wouldn't start. The battery was as dead as King Tut's mother. While Harold went back to the store to see if anyone had jumper cables, I used my cell to call Western Towing. They promised me a tow truck within 35 minutes. By the time I hung up on Wester, Harold was back, so he tried starting the van again. And it cranked right over as though nothing had happened. "Yippee!" we thought.

Well, a block from Ralphs, at the light at Mira Mesa Blvd, the van started to stutter, lurch, and die. Somehow we got through the intersection in tact, then slunk our way home down the side streets to my complex. Lights off, rolling on momentum only, we dreaded every corner stop sign. Luckily, Mira Mesa at midnight Sunday is the Dead Zone. They roll up the sidewalks as soon as the Philipinos hit the sack (i.e., early).

Once we got home, we got Brad to jump my van enough to get the lift down and get my cold ass out....

-- More tomorrow.

David

Go Tell the Spartans...

... Their movie sucks! Actually Harold and I went to the Mira Mesa theater and watched 300 last night, at the late show. The movie didn't really "suck," but I was a little disappointed over it. I admired the graphical ingenuity and the way the "graphic novel" (i.e., comic book) was translated to the Big Screen. And Gerard Butler has been a favorite action star of mine since he played Atila the Hun on a USA Network movie a few years ago.

Overall, though, the characterization was flat. Leonidas, his wife, and everyone else pretty much played on a single emotional level. I, and most people, would like characters we can truly get involved with on MANY levels. We all are, when you consider it, personalities with more facets than a diamond.

300 was a good movie for the 13-year-old in all of us. That's why the Greeks ended up fighting Orcs and Ogres in the middle of the melee, and broke ranks in the heat of battle. I really would have liked to see Peter Jackson or Ridley Scott take on the subject matter.

Still, ancient and medieval history is a rich subject. I'd really like to see one of the above-named directors tackle the story of Alfred the Great, Charlemagne, or Clovis. Justinian and Theordora, with their fabled romance and historic struggle during the Nike riots would also serve as excellent subjects, as would Arminius's revolt of the Cherusci against the Romans.

Snoozefest

This week has been pretty good, in terms of work. I actually have put in near to fulltime hours, for the first time since last September. The work can't come too soon either, since I still have to pay off my damn dentist and car-repair bills.

My parents have been gone all week to Cabo. I haven't heard from them, but I'm assuming they're having a good time. :)

LOST was okay this week. It was good to get back into Hurley's life, and see Cheech Marin playing his dad. But, the VW Bus segment was unbelievable. After all those years lying on its side as a wreck, the van would have lost its gasoline and other fluids, and the engine would have been frozen up. Not to mention, the tires would have been very, very flat.

I know the island's supposed to work miracles, but the episode lacked credibility. We'll see what next week brings!

I missed ROME this week; it was a rerun. All the networks are afraid to run competition to the Academy Awards, though God only knows why they are afraid of that drab, long-winded snoozefest.

Off to See the Wizard

Tuesday I went to Sharp Hospital to see Doctor Landers for the usual trach change routine. He's a great guy, and we had fun chatting, as always. Funny, we even seem to agree on politics, e.g., the current mayor of San Diego is an incompetent idiot.

Harold went with with me this time, which made the trip much more enjoyable and laid back than when I go with "Joe and the Volcano," or "Joe the Volcano." On the way back, we stopped by my dentist to pick up a bottle of flouride moutwash.

As my van bumped down Kearny Villa's potholed lanes, I joked to Harold that the citizens of our fair city should "go medieval" on the municipal government's collective ass: tie them one by one to an oxcart and drag them over the crack-filled pavement until they agree to allocate money to road repair.

We need to quit letting Republicans and land developers run our city. Shortsighted government has pretty much wrecked the place, although Harold makes a good point that the weather will always draw folks nigh.

Meanwhile, my ups and downs with K continue, and I'm looking forward to O's visit on Thursday. :)

Tragicomic

Her actions were funny and sad at the same time, kind of like watching Bozo get struck by a bus. -- Random thought for the day...

The Baptism of Lucius Junius Brutus

OK, so this past Sunday's Rome was a little too homoerotic for my tastes. Two scenes of buggery, a naked guy wading into a river, Pullo and Vorenus wrestling on the floor.... It was a bit much!

I found it fascinating that the authors chose to have Brutus assume a Christlike figure in his self-baptism in the river. As he emerged in slow motion from the water, rivulets angling down his face and over his beard, I could not help but think of Christian baptism, and the whole John the Baptist in the River Jordan image.

What makes that Christlike image all the more fascinating is the total inversion of Brutus' historical role. Normally he represents the secular prefiguring of Judas, not Christ--"Et tu, Brute" forshadowing the betrayer's kiss.

I'll be interested in seeing how Rome's creators carry this part of the story forward.

The Decision Maker

Yesterday I saw our Moron-in-Chief on the news saying that "People are condemming my plan without even giving it a chance." Gee, King George, why would they do that? Hmm ... Let me think. How about these reasons:

• Your administration's utter and abject failure with previous initiatives in Iraq.
• The minor consideration that HUMAN LIVES ARE INVOLVED. Psst--Georgy Boy, running a war ain't like running a failing oil company into the ground. Real men, women, and children will loose their lives due to your faulty planning and execution.
• The idiots who can turn Saddam Hussein into a hero are truly unfit to govern the USA, much less Iraq.

Roma Invicta

Last week, HBO's "Rome" debuted its second season. I recorded it on my DVR and have enjoyed two remarkable episodes now. The character development, acting, and scene settings are all soar above the usual mediocre television fare. Bravo to HBO! It almost leads me to forgive you for cancelling "Carnivale."

I've also nearly finished Season 2 of "Lost." And just in time for the beginning of the new season in a couple of weeks. I noticed in the previews on ABC.com that the upcoming shows will explain Jack's experiences in Thailand to us. I'm curious to find out about the tattoo....

In other news, I started the Tech Comm II class at UCSD. It's a hybrid course, with 3 of the 7 meetings in the classroom--the rest online. I'm not a big fan of online classes, but this is the trend for the future, evidently. I can certainly see its uses in adult education. At any rate, I'll be glad to get the certificate finished. Then I can get back to my novel. Yay!

Until the next time, farewell!
David

The Beatific Smile of the Newly Dead

Against my better judgment, I watched that jerky cell phone video of Saddamn Hussein's hanging last week. Overall, it was highly distasteful, and showed just how much the United States and Iraqi "government" have bollixed up that country's future.

Saddam, as Don Imus said, "Went out like Jimmy Cagney." He was defiant, yet seemingly calm at the end. And the face, flushed with the last blood of life, looked almost happy as it dangled grotesquely from the end of the hangman's noose. His glassy eyes were half closed, and he almost seemed to be smiling, like a sailor might smile when viewing the shores of his home port after a long sea voyage.

I was discussing the whole thing with Clarence. He brought up how Saddam was a tyrant and mass murderer. "That's true," I replied, "but one man's bloody tyrant is another man's martyr." I reminded Clarence that like Braveheart, Saddamn had refused drugs before his execution. And like that famed Scottish hero, his hands had been bloodied by the deaths of the innocent.

History is not always fiction written by the victors. At least--not the short-term victors. Sometimes centuries will pass before the collective memory of mankind sorts out who were the heroes and who the villains.

Just my thoughts for today.

Bonne Année 2007!

New Year's Eve came and went without any fuss at my place. The Saturday before, I went to Bill and Vicki's place for a small party they held for Adam, their son. Adam was visiting from Washington, DC, where he works for a nonprofit progressive organization.

The Eve itself, my parents came over and we watched Ice Age II on DVD and ate pizza. They left about 11:00 pm. Nobody's into wild parties anymore! Getting old, I guess, though I certainly don't feel it in any other way.

Sci Fi had the usual Twilight Zone marathon going on Sunday and Monday. Even though I know every single episode by heart, I can't resist the old show's allure. What's more charming and fun-filled than a weekend in Black & White spent in the corpse-pale company of the late Rod Serling?

Finally, it took me all week, but I wended my way through Season I of Lost--Minda's great Xmas gift to me. It really helped me take my mind off stress and enjoy the mystery all over again. This being a slow TV weelk, it was even better to sit back and enjoy Kate, Jack, Hurley, Locke, and the rest. Better they suffer than I.... Isn't that the root of all dramatic fiction? The catharsis... purging of the emotions in a less harmful way.

Christmas Day 2006

Christmas Day 2006

My family does our Christmas celebration on Christmas Eve. This allows us to just relax and enjoy the holiday stress free. This year was no different; everyone went to my parents' home in Mira Mesa for the festivities.

First, even before I went to my parents', the day got off to a great start when the Chargers pulled out a last-minute win over Seattle. I knew, from there the day could only get better.

Harold was with me, since his wife and kids were doing their own thin at the wife's brother-in-law's house. So, after he dropped his boys back off at home in North Park, he drove the van back to my place; we packed it full of presents and headed to my parents' house.

Dorene, Richard, and the boys were already at the house, as they have been staying there this week. Normally they live in Northern California. Tien and Alicia brought their brood down, and my uncle was in attendance as well.

My mom has grown quite skillful at planning small dinner parties without a lot of fuss n' muss. We dined on sandwiches from Albertson's, with deviled eggs, chips and salsa, and fresh veggies. For desert, we enjoyed Dutch Apple Pie and a "Birthday Cake for Jesus."

I got my parents a Playstation 2 for Christmas. I thought they could loosen up a little, and they'd have fun playing games with my nephews (whom I also bought PS2 games).

The Flemings and Hickmans each bought me Barnes & Noble gift cards, which I intend to put to good use. My parents generously bought me a new HP printer/fax/scanner. I was surprised to receive such an expensive gift from them this year; I do intend to put the scanner to good use, however.

My plan is to scan and archive all the old family photos, some of which date back to the 19th century, and keep them on DVDs. The best ones will be mounted on the Web, in a special home page I would like to construct.

The only person missing this year was Monica, who could not make it due to illness in her new family. I hope to catch up with her later! (

Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!
David

Twas the Week before Christmas

'Twas the Week before Christmas

This past week, I got almost all my shopping done. I have been procrastinating on cards, though. Tonight I will work on getting those finished and out the door.

Currently the outside temperature at Miramar is a chilly 55 degrees. Heavy rain is expected to hit the area tonight and tomorrow. That makes me happy!

This morning Harold and I drove over to the Round Table Pizza in University City and I attended my company meeting, along with Bonni, Stef, Jane, and Jim. We all had some fun laughing at a certain product, while Stef gave a demo of it.

My plans for the upcoming week include some more work, plus wrapping presents and decorating the tree.  Donna and Tom were supposed to come over last week and help me decorate, but their dog Snappy needed surgery, so they had to postpone the visit. I bought Season 1 of Rocky and Bullwinkle on DVD and can't wait to crack it open with them.

Meanwhile, I watched The Lost Room on Sci Fi last week. It was good! So good, in fact, that Clarence actually STFU during most of it. The only thing about the show I didn't care for was the end. The part where the cop shoots the Occupant seemed contrived, and there really was no scientific or supernatural explanation of the "inciting incident" that set the whole sequence of events in motion in 1961. My original theory was that the room had migrated to our universe from a parallel universe. However, the comments about the Occupant--that he had suddenly disappeared from OUR timeline, seemed to contradict that notion. Still, they left enough open ends that there can easily be a sequel (i.e., the whole "Profit" thread with the bad guy, Ruber.).

Finally, Go Chargers!!

The Allure of Vampires

Vampires are attractive, erotic, exciting. Else Anne Rice wouldn’t have gotten rich writing about them, before she turned to the Dark Side (Born-Again Christianity). You know they’re draining you of your blood, but you open your neck to the same old seeping wound. The mark they leave brands your soul as theirs until you either fall into shadows or break the spell forever.

Friends can help you throw off the chains of enchantment. Everyone needs a personal Van Helsing to see them through the rough times. Some of us are lucky enough to have more than one guide over the dangerous passes and inside the darkest caverns. The only fear is, in grasping onto your friends, do not drag them into the abyss with you.

Thanksgiving Day

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I went to my parents' home about 4:00 in the afternoon to enjoy a pleasant dinner with them and my 75-year-old uncle Dave.

The dinner was quiet and small. We ate turkey, ham, green beans, cole slaw, biscuits, yams, cranberry sauce, dressing, and biscuits, with pumpkin and apple pie for dessert. I know, it sounds like a lot, but my mom has become quite adept over the years in creating a relatively stress free Thanksgiving meal.

The chatter over dinner was familial and friendly, with the murmuring of the local news in the background. My uncle talked a lot about his dog. I promised my parents a christmas gift list (for myself) and received one sent by Alicia to my parents.

Tomorrow, they are off for a week in Palm Springs, at their time share. Their anniversary is coming up shortly. Number 35! Wow...

Not that many years ago, our Thanksgiving parties were large and swarming with life. My parents would invite Alicia, Dorene, and Brian, and their families filled with small children. My uncle would be there, and maybe Camelia, and the kids would run all over the house.

For quite a few years, my parents and I would drive up to the home of Mémé and Pépé, first when they lived in Hawthorn, and later in 29 Palms. They loved their family, in a genuine and folksy French Canadian way. Many were the dinners we enjoyed there, along with Aunt Janet and her children. I remember the walks around their neighborhood in the splendidly parched desert. It would be cool and dry at this time of year, and after the huge Thanksgiving repast, we'd play Euchre, Spades, or a funny card game called "Screw Your Neighbor." Oh, and there were dice games too.

Even earlier, when I was 16, my parents dropped me off at Gram and Gramp's in Linda Vista, while they took off in their brand-new, racing yellow 71 240Z to get married at Lake Tahoe. I don't remember much of that Thanksgiving, except that it was a break from 10th grade at Kearny. We attended church then--at the proud gray hall of the Linda Vista United Methodist Church.

Times change, yet the event endures...

The thing that occurs to me about Thanksgiving and other annual holidays is that they are kind of like the movie "Groundhog Day" or that new TV show, "Daybreak." The holiday recurs over and over, essentially built of the same ingrediants, yet it subtly changes over time due to the influence of every single event that has occured in our lives over the past year.

The event repeats, yet it is different. The cycle continues and yet it changes, till one day we are no longer around anymore to participate in it, yet the cycles revolve and evolve into the indefinite future...

To all who participated in my life over the past 51 Thanksgivings that I have dwelled on this Earth, I send my deepest and most heartfelt thanks. I cannot name you all, but you'll live forever in my memories.

Day Break

Last night (Saturday) my friends Donna and Tom came over and we ate some really good Vietnamese carry-out food (spring rolls, barbecued shrimp), drank wine followed by coffee and Carolans, and watched a French movie. The movie was titled "Poupées Rousses" (Russian Dolls) and was the sequel to "L'Auberge Espagnole."

The great thing about many European movies is that they concentrate on believable characters and avoid both the trite and melodramatic. The film's characters carry it, and any good story centers around its protagonist(s). The film had a rich cast of excellent actors who carried off its premise with aplomb.

Meanwhile, I also enjoyed the first episode of Daybreak last Wednesday evening. The story is a lot like Groundhog Day, but is very dark and sinister. I will be quite fascinated to follow it through to the end, which I hope won't be too contrived. That's the only problem with a program with such an artificial premise: it can only end in a few ways, and the payoff will be diminished if the ending is too unbelievable or cliché. A few of the ways Daybreak can end:
· It was all a dream.
· It was all an hallucination.
· The protagonist is dead.
· The protagonist is a character in a movie/TV show/video game and doesn't know it.
· The protagonist is bouncing among alternate, parallel universes.

If the writers can avoid the worn-out clichés mentioned above, then the payoff could be really good. I'm looking forward to following this story through.

Meanwhile, last Thursday night I gave my final presentation for the Presentation Skills class. To complete the project, I reworked my old talk on MT and Localization, to be more of a basic intro to MT. It went well, and Bonni only took off 5 points for "slow pacing." I could have argued with her about it, but one must choose one's battles wisely. Besides, Bonni rocks and I always respect her opinions.

Tonight the Chargers play Denver at 5:00, and my parents will be coming over after Mass for dinner and a movie. Tomorrow, it's back to work for moi!

Things Im Thankful for For

Things I'm Thankful for on my Birthday

Here are some things I’m thankful for, a list of my life’s positive elements. Approaching my 51st year on this small, blue orb, I’m thankful for:

• Surviving that accident from 2004. There was a time when it would have taken me an hour to feebly type this sentence with one finger.

• Related to that, my strength and health. Yes, I know the able-bodied may look askance at me, but I am happy with the way I am, the way God made me. There must be a purpose in it, and I remain ever-anxious to discover it.

• My family. My parents are still relatively young and healthy. I could not have survived and thrived without their support and love. And my step-sister Dorene and her boys, my nephews, and husband Richard.

• My friends: Harold, Donna, Marina, Tom, Bonni, Jacque, Katie, Monica, Nancy, Alicia and Tien, and so many others. You all rock!  

• My new job. Bonni came into my life from out of nowhere and has blessed me with a new start on a career as a writer.

• My creative talents. I’ve been a little negligent with them since May, but I resolve to continue my growth in that area. I refuse to hide my talents under a bushel basket!

• YOU!! My special friend, there is some purpose in why we met. I cannot fathom all its depths. We are stronger together than we are separate; that is your reality and mine, as I’ve come to experience it.

The Depths of the Stereotypical

The Depths of the Stereotypical

Last night I was watching DOOM on HBO. It's a pretty bad movie--I was surprised it received two stars. It was a pretty good recreation of the classic FPS game, and The Rock pulled through with his usual performance.

But what the film most made me think about was, why there is such a market for B-rated genre films (and books). Why do people eschew the "good" for the "bad" in fiction? I think it's partially because the "rules" of modern fiction are a 19th and 20th century fabrication. Since the era of Sigmund Freud, psychological realism has served as the foundation of any successful narrative art form.

Yet, throughout most of literary history, what we perceive as realism has not mattered to the artist or his/her audience. I'm thinking of, for example, the No plays of ancient Japan, the Greek tragedies, or the myths of Near East Semitic peoples. What matters in these works is not the struggle of everyday men and women against ordinary reality, but rather the Meta-Reality of life's purpose, the meaning of the universe, life and death.

B-movies SF and horror movies, which rely on form much more than substance, reach back into that ancient world of Heroes, Gods, and Demons. The flat characters serve as a reassuring base from which to probe life's mysteries (and miseries) without succumbing to despair. Genre fiction is the mythos of the Age of Science.  

Protection and Advocacy

Protection and Advocacy

Today I had to postpone my IHSS hearing, because PAI didn't want to take my case without Aleyda. She's on vacation till November 6. It took me a few attempts, but I finally got through the stat's tin-can-on-a-string phone system and arranged for a postponement. I sincerely hope I can solve this problem without a hearing, anyway.

Thursday night is my fourth Presentation Skills class. It should be enjoyable, for the most part. I did procrastinate and will have to do the talk outline tomorrow before heading to UCSD.

Harold has had my van all week, and I've been stuck around the house. I really need to get out more, as Donna keeps telling me. Driving is still a possibility; just got to practice and get the van modified a little.

The episode of LOST Wednesday evening was enjoyable. I liked the notion of "conning the con." It was interesting that the Others' island is actually a small island off the coast of the survivors. It reminds me of Lilliput and Blefuscu. Floating islands, anyone?

Lost Time

Lost Time

I was watching The Lake House the other night with my parents. It's a time-travel romance starring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock. There are two important facets to the story: yearning for lost time, and the essential need to rewrite history. Bullock first finds Reeves in the past, then loses him to the inescapable weavings of Fate's web, then regains him again by warning him across four years' time.

Then I just finished watching the old Twilight Zone about the guy who goes back in time and tries to prevent Lincoln's assassination (unsuccessfully). In this story, unlike the Bullock epic, we want to rewrite time but we fail. We cannot change history, Rod Serling tells us.

It's not just time we all want to rewrite, however. We have this tendency deep within our psyches to spend unimaginable amounts of emotional energy in trying to rewrite others. We hope, pray, and cajole those we care for to act in a way pleasing to us. We want to rewrite their history, as though in doing so we could rewrite our own. Really, I believe the futile attempt to change others' deep-seated behaviors, even when well intentioned, is a personal battle within ourselves to fulfill some unrequited longing.

Change yourself for the better, and you can affect others' behavior for the better. Attempt to change another person without first examining yourself, and you'll doom your effort to failure.

This I know from experience....

A Really Cool Week

A Really Cool Week

The weather has definitely turned to autumn and I love it! It's been cloudy, and we've had our first rain.

This past Sunday the Chargers routed San Francisco, and to anyone who remembers the '95 Super Bowl, this was a sweet victory. Philip Rivers was an excellent choice for a young quarterback. I only hope in two years San Diego still has a football team to root for!

My work has slowed down a bit, but this isn't bad. I am catching up on some projects that had lain fallow while I did some other things. Unbelievably, I got a letter from the county confirming a hearing on my IHSS appeal for November 2. This whole situation is so brain-dead, my mind reels from the Kafkaesque absurdity.

I also got a note from my attorneys in the other case, which (equally incredibly) looks to be going to trial in February of next year. I cannot understand why people insist on lawsuits, which are a cost to everybody. Rather sickening, the whole situation.

On the other hand, I took my van in to City Chevrolet last week and found out that I needed a new power window motor. Another $500 down the drain! But, with bad weather coming, I can't afford to get the window stuck wide open in a rainstorm. There are other things needing repairs on the van, such as serpentine belt that's starting to crack, but I can worry about that later. It's not an emergency yet.

Meanwhile, I've gotten through two of the six weeks of the presentations class at UCSD. The class is fun--as all Bonni's classes are. You can't go wrong taking a course offered by Bonni Graham. You will work--and you will learn--you'll be glad you availed yourself of the opportunity.

All the above being said, I personally believe the course could be compacted into a two-day seminar. The practice is nice, but not essential. And the textbook is full of banalities like "make sure you know your audience's goals." DUH!!

Well, that's all for tonight. I'm going to log onto WOW for a while....

LOST: The Prisoner Meets Dr. Moreau

LOST: The Prisoner Meets Dr. Moreau

I really enjoyed last week's season premiere of LOST. It had all the familiar elements, plus some new material to ponder, with the introduction of the Others' camp.

It seems that, with Sawyer and Kate in the animal cages, and Jack in the dolphin tank, the island is something of a continuing psych experiment gone bad. Remember the end of last season, where they found the pile of pneumatic tubes that had built up for years? The people watching the other hatch dwellers were really part of their own experiment. Juliette's actions with Jack were just the kind of Skinnerian behavior modification one might expect from rogue psychologists.

Then the Sawyer/bear thing. It's like they're turning him into a trained animal. And the "choice" Kate will have to make? Whether to save Jack or Sawyer--a Sophie's Choice dilemma.

Remember the circus animals and apes in The Prisoner? Remember the bizarre psych experiments Number 2 always subjected Number 6 to? I believe there are parallels here. It would be great if LOST's producers could talk Patrick McGoohan out of retirement to play Alvar Hanso!

Giving the Devil

Giving the Devil...

I watched "Mystic River" with my parents last Friday evening. I had seen it while in the hospital, but couldn't make much sense of it in my morphine-besotted brain. This time, I enjoyed the film, although it was very dark. Clint Eastwood is an excellent director, but his movies are almost Biblical in their outlook. For example, at the start of "Mystic River," a character mentions that the Sean Penn character's "sins have come home to roost." As in the Old Testament, "the sins of the father are visited upon the children."

Meanwhile, I had a quiet Fall weekend and am enjoying the cooler weather. Good riddance to summer! The Chargers lost a close game, which was a serious bummer.

Other than that, have you ever wondered about why some people can act so fake and phony? I have this one friend who seems to have the most tenuous relationship with the truth. And she makes her lies sound so sweet and innocent, you're almost bound to believe her (at first). After a long and hard summer of listening to lies, I've decided that no one can be a friend who is not true to both themselves and others. This woman is a veritable library of dissembling. It's sad, really, because this person has a lot of promise that she'll never fulfill. So many people are hell-bent for self destruction. Aha--that's almost Biblical, too!

Garbage In Garbage Out!

Garbage In, Garbage Out!

September has gained momentum and is now one more waning month. Waning also is the year. Saturday the 23rd was the first day of autumn. The days are growing visibly shorter, the sunlight ever more lacking with each fall of the golden orb into the Western Sea.

Luckily, San Diego's seasonal changes are less dramatic than those of most regions. The weather's still warm and sunny.

I have started my latest battle with Medi-Cal. The program's annual "redermination" has proceeded to bollix me up. As happens nearly every year, I have had to file an appeal in order to keep my health benefits in tact. The state seems determined to punish honest, working people with disabilities. Even though they are not supposed to count my SSDI income among my resources, the genius social worker in charge of my case went ahead and did so. This would give me a share of cost on IHSS (In Home Supportive Services) of $380 per month. In other words, they want to force me to pay nearly all of Harold's wages.

When I argued with the social worker about what he'd done, he got defensive and replied "We have a new computer system and all I do is put in the numbers." When I recited the formulas he's supposed to use, he blamed the computer. I slammed the phone down after telling him "a computer is only as good as its operator."

Well, back to playing EQ or WOW for a while.

Arminius Returneth

Arminius Returneth

Well, today I had some free time and logged into EverQuest, my old stomping grounds. It was great to see all my guild buddies and especially Salelann, my friend who's taken such good care of "Arm" in my absence.

I got to explore the new zones a bit, but then typical of SOE, the game server crashed and dumped me out to Windows. After seven years of playing, it's good to see some things never change!!

More later... Or, WOW, here I come!

David

Go Chargers

Go, Chargers!

Last night's Chargers-Raiders game was sweet for all of us fans in San Diego. The Chargers rolled over the Raiders, 27-0. Phillip Rivers looked ready to go as the new starting QB. Now, let's see what the team can do next week!

Everything else is rolling along well for me. I've been working hard, and reaping some of the benefits of that.

Also, I finished watching all the episodes of ROME on DVD I bought a few weeks ago.  The series is superb, and I can't wait for the new season! Don't forget, LOST will be starting in a few weeks. And a new AMAZING RACE starts Sunday!

The weather's been great; you can "sort of" feel autumn in the air, as we think of it in Southern California.

Worst Episode Ever

Worst Episode, Ever!

So, Joe and I are big Deadwood fans--that's the very dark western that's been running on HBO for the past three seasons. After a rather long and slow build-up, we had great expectations for the series finale.

Well, I sat through the final episode and all I can say is, "What a crock!" Got to be one of the worst episodes, and worst series finales, in the history of TV. It was as though the writers set out to give the audience a big "middle finger."

Let us count the sins:"

1. Hurst got off Scott-free after a season and a half of sociopath behavior, including ordering the murders of half-a-dozen characters.


2. This whole season, Swearengen has been coming off as rather an honorable and likeable criminal. He started out as the show's villain, before Hurst showed up. In the final episode, he slits the throat of an "innocent" prostitute in his employ in order to keep Hurst from murdering Trixie, the whore who shot Hurst. Why build Swearengen up to be a "good guy" and then knock him back down at the end? Why did he and the others choose to cop out of the battle with Hurst?


3. Bullock was oddly taken out of a couple of the last episodes to "campaign for sheriff." Why? Clearly the hands of the authors were visible in this machination, to keep Bullock out of the way for other action.


4. The widow sold her claim to Hurst in order to be able to stay in town, then left at the end, right behind Hurst's stagecoach! Both her husbands died in vain.


5. The Earp brothers appeared in the last third of the season for a couple of episodes, giving hope that they might stick around to battle Hurst. No way the writers could have conceived of that, I guess. Instead, the Earp boys just uselessly disappeared after Bullock told them to leave town.


6. There's more, but that basically runs the gamut of the important stuff.

On other fronts, not much new to report. I finished the Project Management class and got an A. Next up, Presentation Skills for Technical Communicators in about a month. On other projects for ML, I've been quite busy. Which is great! I'll never get back to Europe without money!

The weather here has been quite pleasant. Low 80s at the worst. A great Early Autumn preview.

More ruminations later....

David

Apropos Mon Secret

Apropos Mon Secret

J'écris en français parce que aucun de mes amis ne connaît pas cette langue langoureuse qui exprime si bien les bouleversements de l'esprit. Ni mes amis, ni ma famille ne sachent les douleurs de mon existence.

Donc, voilà un ancien poème de Verlaine qui dit tout sur le sujet:

Il pleure dans mon coeur . . . "
II pleut doucement sur la ville.Arthur Rimbaud
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville,
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénètre mon coeur?

O bruit doux de la pluie
Par terre et sur les toits!
Pour un coeur qui s'ennuie
O le chant de la pluie!

Il pleure sans raison
Dans ce coeur qui s'écoeure.
Quoi! nulle trahison?
Ce deuil est sans raison.

C'est bien la pire peine
De ne savoir pourquoi,
Sans amour et sans haine,
Mon coeur a tant de peine!

From Romances sans paroles (1874

Saturday Fun

Saturday Fun

This morning I got up early (for me) and went to the ML meeting at Starbucks. It was a productive meeting, overall. What I really like about the group is that everyone is friendly and on the ball. No slacking; no BS. And Bonni's a great supervisor/owner. I wouldn't be where I am today without her!

After the meeting, I came home and took a nap after I ate a late breakfast. Harold and I hung out for a while and we watched TV. Nothing on, really, Saturdays. Despite all the channels!

Then around 6:30 my parents came over and brought KFC. We ate their yummy coleslaw and mashed potatoes. And the chicken isn't bad, either! Then we watched the remake of Fun with Dick and Jane on DVD. It starred Jim Carrey and was much better than I expected.

Tomorrow morning I'll work on my current project until my parents pick me up for church and dinner. Deadwood is on tomorrow night! Pretty much the highlight of the TV week for the summer. I can't wait till Rome starts again, too.

David's Day at the Dentist

David's Day at the Dentist

I thought Id tell you about my day at the dentists.  I'll try not to bore you!

I went to the dentist today, because part of a crown broke off in my mouth on Monday. That morning, I was eating an English muffin with peanut butter. Suddenly... CRUCH!!! I thought, well thats odd--this is supposed to be Creamy Jiff! Then I spit out the food (how appetizing, I know) and saw little white and silver bits. Yikes! Luckily on Monday, there was no pain....

Well, I got into the office this morning, and the doctor started working on me right away; that was the good news. The bad news? Not only did I need a new crown, but a root canal to boot! Two hours and $1740 later, Im out the door with a numb mouth and a charged up credit card.

As soon as the numbness wears off, Im using up my last Roxycodone and taking a ride on the Rush Limbaugh Express.

Q: What's more painful than a root canal?
A: Paying for it!

Driving Me Crazy

Driving Me Crazy!

Well, Harold and I drove over to the Miramar College parking lot yesterday, which was huge and completely empty. We had gone out to exchange a memory card for my camera, and he convinced me to head to the lot on our way back from Best Buy.

So, Harold unbolted the driver's seat from its position and I locked the chair into place. As I pulled the chair into position, a wave of nausea washed over me from head to toe; I thought I might faint. Leftover trauma from the accident, I presume.

Once I got the chair locked down, we tooled around the parking area. Because of my short right leg (thank you, Dr. "What do you use your legs for" T), I cannot reach the gas pedal by about an inch. So Harold (bravely) sat next to me and used the 30-inch-long tire iron to press on the gas. He also could use it to hit the brake if necessary (it wasn't).

Some things were immediately obvious. Besides the gas pedal, I'll have to have the brake pedal adjusted a bit further back. My left leg doesn't flex as much as it used to, so I have a hard time getting my foot up to the pedal. Once the foot is there, braking is just fine, however.

We did not put the shift lever extension in place. I have no idea how shifting will go yet. In general, I seemed father away from the dash than before. I don't know if that's a difference in the chair or me. I also had trouble clicking the turn signal fully on. I think that's just a matter of regaining some more strength, however.

I definitely will want a new tie-down system, seatbelts, and so on, which I hope to get funded by Rehab while I'm still a client of theirs.

Overall, it was a successful venture. My first time behind the wheel in 2.5 years. We spent about an hour cruising the lot, making figure eights and driving down the side lanes. Even though the heat was raging, my van's AC works great, and I was so excited to be driving that I hardly noticed the temperature. My arms did get a good workout, too. I need to do a lot more "lot surfing" to get up to speed, but I'm optimistic. It reminded me of my first time behind the wheel with my nurse driving instructor, Sandy Bartlow. That day, which remains fresh in my memory from the summer of 1974 (I was 18), she drove my 1973 Chevy van to the stadium parking lot, and transferred me to the driver's seat, with a cushion underneath to adjust my height. Once I drove around the stadium a few times, I knew I could accomplish anything. Yes, my van needed modifications, but when all was said and done, I scored a 95/100 on my California driving exam.

Up until 2004, that day proved to be a good omen of success to come. One single day in May changed all that. But now, I'm looking forward to getting back "in the driver's seat" of life.

Freaky Friday

Freaky Friday

So I went out today and had lunch with my friend Jan. Instead of him bringing me food, as we've been doing since my accident, we got into my van and drove to Mimi's. It was a very pleasant outing, despite the horrendous heatwave we've been experiencing all summer. Even as I write this blog entry, the downtown temperature is hovering around 75 degrees Fahrenheit, with high humidity.

Anyway, Jan had the Chicken Cordon Bleu and I had the French Quarter Burger. Both were excellent, and we took a lot home. We also walked over to Starbuck's and bought lattes.

I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on my document library project for work. This weekend, I'll also be catching up on my homework for the PM class, as well as filling out reams of paperwork for my Medi-Cal redetermination. Oh, yea!!

Tomorrow after I get up, I'm taking the driver's seat out of the van and seeing what I can do. Wish me luck!

I'm tired of being an invalid... In any sense of the word.

Farenheit 101

Farenheit 101

Well, the last few weeks have been so hot you could roast a London Broil on the sidewalk. It may or may not be global warming, but it's damn uncomfortable!

In a few minutes, my friend Jan is coming over for a visit, Starbucks in hand. That's cool; we haven't gotten together in a while, since he works and lives in Maryland now.

A week and a half ago, I saw the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. It was a lot of fun--Johnny Depp is a masterful actor. As with a lot of recent blockbuster movies, I thought the film was a little too long, and dragged through the "muddled middle." Still, it had all the right elements of a rollicking comedy/adventure.

Meanwhile, Deadwood continues into its final season. Last week's highlight (and the highlight of the whole season so far) was the huge fight to the death between Dority and Captain Turner. The best man won, and kept both his eyes in his sockets! Deadwood is not a show for the faint of heart.

My Project Management class is in its 4th week and is progressing nicely. I have nothing to complain about! And I'm working on several projects for Manual Labour. Yee Haw!

Comicon comes to town this weekend. That'll be a blast, I'm sure. Sony's even giving bus rides from the Convention Center to their headquarters in Sorrento Mesa. I probably won't go, though. Heat, crowds, and traffic are an evil combination.

T. and I are going to lunch tomorrow--yay! Can't wait to spend time with her again.

Peering into the Shadows

Peering into the Shadows

I’m feeling sad tonight; I don’t know quite why. Maybe it’s just that I’m tired from writing all day. Tech writing rather fries and scrambles the brain sometimes. Plus, the boys have been here all evening, yelling and roughhousing around the living room. My eyes feel droopy. My head feels like it was put on backwards this morning. What’s wrong with me? I hate it when I get into these moods....  Do you (dear reader) ever feel this way, or am I the only person in the world who so senses the isolation and ennui coursing through his (or her) body. Or perhaps there are questions that just cannot be answered.

When I took French at USD, one of the first novels we read was by a girl named Françoise Sagan. It was called Bonjour Tristesse– “Hello Sadness.” That’s me tonight, peering over the edge of the deep dark well of loneliness and crying “Hello!” into the simmering shadows.

The Fourth of Never

The Fourth of Never

Well, today's the Fourth of July! The sun is baking everything beneath it today; the temperatures have been hovering in the 90s for a week or so. I know the ancients used to pray to the Sun God, but I would gladly sacrifice my first-born (or at least a fatted calf) for mercy from the Rain God!

Today I went computer shopping with T. She's so sweet, and learned all about the tie-downs and driving the van with aplomb. I don't think Joe thought she could do it!

The Mira Mesa parade and fireworks are today. I saw the setup for the parade on Mira Mesa Boulevard around 11:00 this morning. I personally would not sit in the blazing midday July heat just to see an amateur parade. Tonight the community will hold its annual fireworks at 9:00. My parents are coming over and we're going to watch the King Kong remake. None of us wants to deal with the fireworks crowd and traffic. Besides, the Summer Pops has much better ones by the bay!

I started my Project Management course with Bonni last week. I think this will be a very beneficial feather to place in my career cap, even though I cannot avow that the topic excites me much.

Deus Ex Police Box

Deus Ex Police Box

So last night I was watching the season finale of Dr. Who. It was broadcast on Sci Fi a few weeks ago, but I never got around to watching it. I saved it on my DVR for a boring TV night, which last evening definitely was.

The final episode (of a two-parter) revolved around the comeback of the Daleks and their emperor, intent upon destroying the Earth and "harvesting" humanity. Just when things looked their bleakest, i.e., the Earth was about to be destroyed and Dr. Who killed, all was saved by pretty Miss Rose, who had "looked into the heart of the Tardis" and gained godlike powers over space-time. Rose the Goddess wiped out the Daleks with a wave of the hand, saved the doctor, and revived Captain Jack from his mortal slumber.

I think any time a story comes to a close with a mortal human assuming godlike powers to save the day, it has to be considered a case of Deus Ex Machina (God from the Machine). That is, it's an artificial plot device brought from nowhere to save the day. The writers of Dr. Who cleverly attempted to disguise their ruse by having the motto "Bad Wolf" sprinkled in unlikely places throughout most of the season's earlier episodes. Turned out that "Bad Wolf" was Rose trying to communicate with herself in the past. Thus, enough forshadowing was initiated that the Deus Ex Machina was cloaked from view for as long as possible.

Isn't that the way with so much SF, though? The hero (an avatar, perhaps, of a helpless teenager) becomes a god and proves his worth. It rather lives out adolescent fantasies of powerlessness taking the reigns of power. It's a good trope when it's not overly used. In the case of Dr. Who, however, it came pretty damn close to ruining an otherwise decent story.

Emily and Me

Emily and Me

Lately I've been rediscovering the poetry of Emily Dickenson. I studied her works a lot when I was in Dennis Clausen's American Lit classes at USD. Then, like a lot of things from my undergraduate days, she fell by the wayside.

What I noticed about the "Belle of Amherst" is that she thinks a lot like me. She was a recluse by choice or neurosis, evidently. I, on the other hand, have been living in a sort of Plato's Cave since that accident back in 2004. If you don't drive in Southern California, you are screwed.

It's not that I don't still have friends whom I love to see: I do. Donna and Marina above all others. And my new coworkers have been a joy to know. Then there is celle que j'aime, dont le nom reste inconnu au plan du monde extérieur.

But getting back to Emily, she was always writing about human concerns: nature, death, love. What more is there? Knowledge... The mind/body problem. Look at the following poem:


The BRAIN is wider than the sky,
  For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
  With ease, and you beside.

The brain is deeper than the sea,
  For, hold them, blue to blue,
The one the other will absorb,
  As sponges, buckets do.

The brain is just the weight of God,
  For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
  As syllable from sound.


Consider the paradox. We can imagine anything that exists in the universe, yet the universe does not appear to imagine us... Or does it? If you take quantum mechanics and string theory to its extreme, you arrive at the anthropic principle: the universe exists because we perceive it. We, all of us, are the omniscient observer who brings the un-being into existence. But, the universe then becomes self-referential, a tautology. We observe, we think, and matter pops into existence. Matter then pops into existence to create the observer who will initiate even more parallel universes, ad infinitum. See the paradox?

Memento Mori

Memento Mori

When got home from shopping on Saturday, I saw this beautiful card in my mail. It was from my doctor’s office. I tore the card out of its envelope with a great sense of anticipation—it looked like a party invitation or something. But it was actually a death notice. “We regret to inform you of the untimely death of Sue Fenton-Warner, our beloved nurse practitioner, on May 26, 2006. I was in shock! I’ve known this kind, caring woman for 10 years. She was around my age, maybe a couple of years older; she seemed to be the picture of health. I just saw her a month ago when I went for my 3-month visit!
 
Sue is the second person I’ve known who has died without warning and prematurely in the last month. Rich, the husband of my former coworker Brigitte, died of a sudden, massive heart attack in May. It was totally unexpected. Shortly before Rich’s death, they had just celebrated their “110th” birthday party after a volleyball game—on the beach.
 
I don’t know, it makes me feel so... precarious, so empty. Why do I live and these good people pass away? What’s so special about me that there is some plan I’ve yet to fulfill?
 
My best friend when I went to “Sunshine School” on Balboa Avenue was a black kid with Duchenne MD named Shane. We went everywhere together. I hung out with him and his family so much, I started to think I WAS black. You might say I was a wannabe black before it was HIP to wannabe black! His dad was a drill instructor at MCRD. After we fought so hard to get out of that school, I got into Kearney first. The school officials promised Shane could get in the next semester, if I did well. So I worked my ass off to succeed. But, then just around Christmas time, Shane caught pneumonia and died. That’s the fate of all kids with MD. All the boys I went to elementary school with died before age 18.
 
When my mom married my step-dad in 1971, he had three kids of his own. The oldest, Wayne, was born with a congenital heart defect. He was 9 years younger than I. Of my three step-siblings, he and I were the closest. He was very artistic, and in fact I still have one of his little drawings in my room. He died of a heart attack at age 20, while a majoring in photography at Palomar College.

It makes you think... Memento Mori

Night of the Living Republicans

Night of the Living Republicans

This land we call our country, which we manifestly stole from the Indians and the Mexicans, is not a democracy. The oligarchs have manipulated elections to their own ends, which are not the public's ends, but rather, the End of the Republic.

Yesterday the Zombie Republicans crept forth from their whitewashed tombs and elected Brian Bilbray to replace disgraced, traitorous Republican congressman Duke Cunningham. That the people of the district could replace a Republican crook with a Republican lobbyist and demagogue fully demonstrates that our system is in its last throes. The 50th District has been so gerrymandered that no Democrat, ever, could win an election there. The Republicans own an overwhelming majority, and they would rather keep true to the party than think for themselves.

"Brains! Braiiiinnnns!" The zombies cry. If only the voters had the brains to make a meal worthy of a zombie, perhaps yesterday's election would have turned out different.

Here There Be Monsters

Here There Be Monsters

Last night, I finally got around to watching Stephen King's Desperation. I'm always a little leery when a film or book needs to include the author's name in the title. After all, great books don't need that. Ever hear of "Moses' The Bible," or "Herman Melville's Moby Dick"? The title should lead to the author, not the other way around.

Anyway, back to the movie. I found the first hour quite good, the second quite bad, and the third quite boring. My favorite line from the first hour: "I'm gonna stick a pole through your mother and spin her till she catches fire!" Now, that was the kind of line I'd like to write.

Ron Perleman did a great job as the evil, possessed sheriff. Sadly, he disappeared after the first half of the movie, to be replaced by a much-less-convincingly possessed woman. One thought occurred to me, as it sprang again to my mind. The first time it occurred to me was in watching Mel Gibson's neo-Romanesque epic, "The Passion of the Christ." Why do we still associate physical ugliness with moral ugliness? Not that I want to rain on Perleman's acting gigs, but movies (and books) need to separate themselves from the notion that someone's physical appearance tells us anything significant about his or her state of mind, or sinfulness. Anyone remember Quasimodo?

Mr. King needs to raise his fiction above the stereotypical. I stopped reading his books in the 80s, for basically that reason. He writes formula, and formula only. The original ideas and characters of his first few novels--the whole notion of "horror in everyday life," has become subsumed by automatic writing. It's as if King had that weird typewriter from Tommyknockers kocking out his works page by page. Just as in "It" and numerous others, King sticks to the Hero's Journey a bit too literally. His novels are quests, in which an unlikely circle of friends must confront a horrible monster (or monsters).

At first, I thought the kid, David, was the hero on the journey last night. But the real hero proved to be the author character, who had to atone for past sins. Like the heroes in Campbell's book, the author character receives the call to adventure, at first refuses it, then makes the journey to the "inmost cave," which in this story was--literally--a cave! The boy, David, was not the hero, but rather the mentor character.

Ugly people everywhere, unite! Don't let lazy writers keep you down....

Last Sunday in May

Last Sunday in May

Today is the final Sunday in May, and it’s warm and spring-like. It seems that summer is just around the corner, though it’s technically about three weeks off.

Like millions of others, I watched the season finale of LOST last Wednesday night. It was good. Some things just worked well, while other aspects left me scratching my head. I think the writers need to stop being lazy, and stop letting the “plot” drive the characters.

Was it just me, or did most of the castaways take a stupid pill? What was up with Eko setting off dynamite in a closed chamber, then not even trying to get away before the fuse blew the joint a new “hatch”? And what about Desmond? How could he have believed Locke’s story about the button being fake, when he had personally experienced just some of what it could do the day he killed Kelvin? And Michael? Believing these Others, especially after Walt told him “they’re pretending,” just seemed unbelievably obtuse.

I did really like the four-toed giant statue and the electromagnetic “anomaly,” though.

Tonight, I’ll go to Mass with my parents. That will be pleasant. They’re going to a party, though, and I’ll just have them drop me off at home. That’s assuming Harold arrives on time with my van, which he borrowed last night.

This week, I’ll be finishing up my Writer’s Guide and starting a document inventory for Bonni. I’m also going to ask Rehab to enroll me in Bonni’s project planning course.

See you in another life, brothers!

Bad Day at Black Rock

Bad Day at Black Rock

This week, we viewers got to enjoy the next-to-last season episode of LOST, as well as the final-forever episode of Invasion. ABC pretty much screwed Invasion over by scheduling too many reruns and interrupting its schedule by replacing it with shows like The Evidence, which sucked. Invasion was too derivative anyway, with an off-putting large cast that was initially too hard to follow.

For LOST, Michael proved to still be weak-minded and bereft of good judgment. Really, it was to the point of being almost unbelievable. Wouldn’t it have been simpler and more logical for him to have simply told the castaways of his plight? And why would he believe these slithery Others would really keep their word, after Walt blurted out, “They’re pretending!”

Who’s on the boat? My bet’s on Desmond. “See ya in another life, brother!”

Dies Matris Redux

Dies Matris Redux

It’s another beautiful spring day in San Diego—sunny and warm, but not scorching. Soon my parents will arrive and we’ll go to church and dinner for Mother’s Day. This will be the best Mother’s Day I’ve been able to celebrate with my parents in at least two years. It was May 9, 2004 that I got clobbered in that car accident on the way to a restaurant from church—also a Mother’s Day. A day that will live in my personal infamy. But things have recovered unexpectedly well. The old saying, “while there’s life, there’s hope,” certainly rings true. And those who gave us that life and remain a wellspring of hope—our mothers—deserve our respect and affection today among all days.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

The Torpid and the Un-living

The Torpid and the Un-living

Last week’s LOST episode was one of the best ones of the second season. I was surprised that so many viewers were stunned by Michael’s betrayal. To me, it was fairly obvious. First, Michael just came popping out of the jungle soon after Jack proposed the Henry trade. Second, that story Michael recounted about the Others was clearly BS. He told Jack that the Others only had two guns! That clearly was untrue, since the Bearded Other and his group took more weapons than two from the Losties on their first armed confrontation. The Others are adept at psychology and brainwashing. Remember how they had Claire believing Ethan was her friend? And Henry clearly has been psychoanalyzing the Losties who venture into the hatch. I hope, though, that Eko does not also die, as the preview seemed to show.

Then last night I watched “Corpse Bride” again. What does a story mean, when the underworld is more colorful and lively than the Land of the Living? It means, succinctly, not that it’s better to be dead, but rather that we should all do more with the LIFE we have been granted.

Science and "The Decider"

Science and “The Decider”

According to today’s news, the administration is spending large sums of taxpayer money to fund “laser-based anti-satellite system” for space. How about a laser-based system to run my car, morons! These people are killing NASA with their combination of champagne projects on beer budgets, yet they somehow manage to dig up money for technology that even the late Isaac Asimov would have thought preposterous.

Last time I checked, we were attacked by knife-wielding terrorists flying commercial airliners, not satellites. Why not spend our money where it will do the most good, such as defending homeland security or getting the country off foreign oil?

Another blow to “The Decider”: A new study refutes global warming critics. And then there’s this news on Evolution: species evolve faster on the equator than in temperate zones.  Which leads to a big question: If organisms were designed in perfection by an “intelligent designer,” or should I say, “intelligent decider,” then why would they need to continue evolving? Perfection does not admit change.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night (NOT!)

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night (NOT!)

Today was a good day. My old friend Camelia dropped by for a surprise visit. I hadn’t seen her for two years. We had a very pleasant time catching up on each other’s news over Starbuck’s coffee and pastries.

Other than that, I continued my work, which remains both challenging and rewarding. Three years ago, I never would have envisioned myself slaving feverishly over manuals for remote controls! But, the manuals do what they’re supposed to, and so do I. Bonni is a fantastic person to work for, and I find myself at a loss for anything to complain about!

The weather this week has been pleasant, with some “May Gray” clouds lingering overhead. I love those clouds—no doubt about it.

I need to get back to my creative writing, which has slowed down due to all the technical work. I know I can do both!

One final thought: Impeach George Bush!

English, Spanish, French... Oh My!

English, Spanish, French… Oh My!

Today’s big controversy on CNN seems to be the Spanish version of our beloved, but barely singable, National Anthem. To which I say: bollocks!

The Founding Fathers spoke English, but they emphatically left the notion of a national language out of the Constitution. The anthem itself has ignoble beginnings as an 18th Century drinking song, “To Anacreon….” The Spanish version itself is soulful, rhythmic, and has a nice flair.

I think a lot of the racists and xenophobes don’t get it about language. It’s what any first year linguistics student could tell them: any human language is capable of expressing any human thought. Duh! That’s not to say I don’t love English. After all, I was an English major and have a doctorate in English Literature. But, I’ve also studied French, Italian, and other languages enough to know that each language is as “good” as the other, though each has its own special “flavor.” The important thing to keep in mind is the concepts behind the anthem, not the Englishness of the individual words.

To those who worry about Spanish being some kind of barbarian language—remember that Spanish is a direct descendant of Latin. Latin was a language of written literature, science, and law long before the Anglo-Saxons were able to scribble out syllables in runes on granite rocks. Sixty percent of English vocabulary comes from Latin, by way of Old French. Old French is itself a close relative of both Spanish and Latin. Otherwise, our National Anthem would probably sound like a cross between “Beowulf” and Chaucer’s “Wife of Bath’s Tale.”

Grow up and get over it, ye nativists! Once, your ancestors were “bog Irish” or Polish or Italian poor immigrants. A brief review of the excellent film, “Gangs of New York,” should reveal to you that in immigration, as in the Bible, “there is nothing new under the sun.”

New Computer at Last

New Computer, at Last!

It took five years and $1509, but this week I finally got my new computer! It’s a dual-core Pentium D that runs at a swift 3.2 GHz. Thanks to my new job, it’s all been possible. So far, that’s about all I’ve used it for, too—work. But Ever     Quest runs great, and so does a shooter Brad lent me, called F.E.A.R.

Other than that, nothing exciting’s been happening. I did attend Easter Vigil Mass last night at St. Gregory’s. It was a nice service, though not for the faint of heart, coming in at 2:20 minutes’ duration.

Tomorrow: More work, and a visit from the Esplanade manager. I’m going to sign my 15th lease here. And inveigle a new carpet out of the manager.

Siegfried and the Nibelungens [sic]

Siegfried and the Nibelungens [sic]

Apropos of nothing, I was watching a 2-part movie on Sci Fi Channel last night (I had recorded it from last week), and found it interesting. It was titled “Dark Kingdom: The Dragon King.” At first, I thought it was just another bit of Sword and Sorcery fluff, but then when the hero killed Fafnir and made off with his loot, including the RING, I knew something else was afoot. Indeed, this turned out to be a pop-culture retelling of Siegfried’s saga, replete with Brunhilde and lots of tragic romance. Not bad, overall, but I had to stifle a guffaw when one of the characters brandished “the ring of the Nibelungens.”

O Death

O Death

O Death, O Death, rock me asleepe,
Bring me to quiet rest;
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.

My pains, my pains, who can express?
Alas, they are so strong!
My dolours will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.

Alone, alone in prison strong
I wail my destiny:
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Must taste this misery!
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.

Farewell, farewell, my pleasures past!
Welcome, my present pain!
I feel my torment so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell,
Ring out my doleful knoll,
For thou my death dost tell:
Lord, pity thou my soul!
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound dolefully:
For now I die,I die, I die

-- Attributed to Anne Boleyn

Miscellany Strikes Back

Miscellany Strikes Back

This past week, I've been working on a number of projects for Manual Labour. One of them was a rush job and took much of the weekend (and part of yesterday) to complete. But the customer's happy, Bonni is happy and I'll be happy when I receive more paychecks!

I've been reading some new Science Fiction books, as part of my judging for the San Diego Book Awards. I won't go into the titles of the books here, to protect the judging process. It's interesting, however, the way genre novels fall back on old, familiar patterns. These are patterns ranging from the Mad Scientist, to the Thing that Fell from Space, to the Average Joe who surmounts overwhelming odds by evolving into some kind of Uebermensch.

Last Wednesday evening, ABC treated us long-suffering viewers to a new episode of LOST. On the whole, the program was uneven in quality. The Sun/Jin flashbacks were mildly interesting, and the reveal about the miraculous conception was in-line with other miracles on the island, such as Locke's ambulatory recovery. The last few minutes of the episode were great, by contrast to what had gone on earlier. When Henry told Locke and Jack about the map, there was real tension in the air, and the apparently sinister intensions of Henry certainly added a much-needed air of tension to the program.

Is Henry Gale an "Other?" I tend to think so, for the following reasons:

1. "Henry Gale" is the name of Dorothy's uncle in Wizard of Oz


2. "Henry" arrived on the island via balloon, much the same was the Wizard arrived in Oz.


3. "Henry" mentioned that he met his wife at the University of Minnesota--the same university the De Groots (founders of Dharma) originated from.


4. "Henry" seems to be "psyching out" Jack, Locke, and the other Losties who encounter him inside the Hatch. He weaves a web of mistrust among the group, in a Socratic-Freudian, question-answer sort of way. "Henry" may have been one of those young graduate students shown with the De Groots in the Marvin Candle video.

The Final Class

The Final Class

Two weeks ago, on a cold and rainy night, I attended the final Critical Thinking class. It was a continuation of the week before, where we all gave our individual business presentations to Bonni and the class. For some reason, the second week's presentations fared generally much better than the first week's.

For the first week, I would say that about half the students failed to prepare their material. A number of them didn't even bother to make a PowerPoint slide show. PowerPoint was not required, but my suggestion to those who didn't bring it would have been to bring handouts, or at a bare minimum, write on the board.

The second week, people came prepared and used good techniques, like keeping their presentations on point, employing graphics, and injecting some humor into the talks. My talk was the last one of the evening. I deliberately waited to the end, so I wouldn't have to make Bonni rearrange the entire classroom just so I could get up in the front of the class. The aisle was just too narrow for me to easily navigate, especially with the projector in the way.

I think, from what I've seen so far, the Extension classrooms are poorly designed for writing classes. I intend to speak to Tania about it. I'm surprised that the writing instructors have not demanded better!

Anyway, my talk came after a really atrocious, rambling, off-point presentation by a student who had given basically the same awful speech to our Document Design course last summer. I anxiously watched the clock tick down as the speaker sought out her topic, but never quite discovered it. Finally, and thankfully, Bonni cut her off and let me do mine. I enjoyed giving my presentation very much; I kept it to exactly seven minutes (the required limit) and injected enough humor into it that everyone seemed to enjoy it.

An overall weakness of this kind of thing, was the "why we should care" problem. That is, it's hard to keep an audience interested in a topic they know nothing about, especially when it's a dry subject, like the need to add more employees to an unknown company's technical support staff. I can't really say what the solution to that problem is--more's the pity, because giving presentations is indeed a skill anyone in business should cultivate.

The Scales of Death

The Scales of Death

This morning, I turned on CNN to find out the latest news, but was instead treated to a live, non-stop coverage of the sentencing of Joseph Smith, the Florida child murderer. The cameras held an unflinching eye to Smith's grotesque face as the judge laboriously read over every aggravating and mitigating circumstance. His conclusion: Smith should die. Duh!

I tried flipping to MSNBC, but the same story played incessantly there. This is just another example of the media's preference for sensationalism over substance. Where was the useful news in the death sentence of a child killer and rapist? Yes, the girl's death was horrible and tragic, the perpetrator a brutal beast unfit for life.

But, I kept asking myself--What of Iraq? What of Katrina? Some 87 people died in Iraq in a single day this week. Where was the live coverage of that? Instead, after the Florida fatal charade, the network deemed it sufficient to show a 30-second clip of Gen. John Abizaid testifying before Congress that things aren't as bad as they seem in Iraq. They also showed us another short clip of Saddam testifying in his trial. This was the man we spent several hundreds of billions of dollars to bring to justice, yet all his proceedings were worth was a sound bite or two in between the murders of young white girls.

We no longer have a balance in this country between what is real and what is not. What's important? The salacious and violent. What's unimportant? Anything to do with "others" who dwell in a far-off land. That's why we have a former baseball-club owner as president, and a former lousy actor as governor. We lack a sense of proportion, when all information devolves into talking blondes regaling our senses with "infotainment."

A Very Busy Week

A Very Busy Week

This past week just flew by in a flash. Most of the time, I have been working on that remote-control manual for Manual Labour. It's been challenging and fun--I was born to be a writer all along. I only wish I hadn't spent 12 years working in another field--a field that paid well but turned into a dead end.

Much more fun than that damned Barcelona stuff. And just think, soon thousands of people across the country will be reading my splendid prose--not fiction, but a remote-control manual! But, the pay is decent (for an internship) and it's great to work at home. Although the comradeship of the office was one of its pleasant side-effects, not driving back and forth to work is a huge relief. The only commute I have now is to the biweekly staff meetings at the Starbucks in University City (in the Henry's Shopping Center).

I'm almost done with the Critical Thinking class. This Tuesday comes the final session. It's been a lot of fun, even though it was rather silly for me to have to take it. I did put my foot down on taking "Advanced Writing," and have instead talked the department into letting me enroll in an internship with Manual Labour. This will get 6 units out of the way, and let me work and earn credit at the same time. Also, Rehab will pick up the cost of my tuition AND the two expensive programs I need for the job: Framemaker and Illustrator. Framemaker alone goes for about $700, new. I could get the upgrade for $199, thanks to the Framemaker 6.0 I already own, but free is the best discount of all.

On the creative front, I did send off a little humor article I wrote, entitled "How to Talk to a Republican." We'll see if that gets accepted. Once I get paid and can afford stamps, I'll send another couple of stories out into the ether.

Having real money will be a nice change from my life of the past three years. There are a lot of things that I've been putting off--like a new computer and repairs to my van--that I'll be able to afford now.

Tomorrow, I've got to dig in and finish my final project for Critical Thinking, as well as write up the description of my internship. Also, I'm a judge for the San Diego Book Awards again this year, and have three cool books lying on my table right now.

Dubai, or Not Dubai?

Dubai, or Not Dubai?

Well, now that the Dick Chaney fiasco has settled down, the Bush administration has lurched into yet another public-relations disaster. This time, it's the leasing of our five biggest ports to a company from the United Arab Emirates. This has caused a firestorm on both the Right and the Left. This deal has left pretty much every American shaking his or her head about what Jay Leno called last night, "Crazy George's Fire Sale."

My own opinion is that the company's UAE origin doesn't matter a whole lot. While one of the 9/11 hijackers came from there, the vast majority were Saudis, and we don't see any attempts to boycott Saudi business. Even the recent cartoon riots don't seem to have touched Dubai or Abu Dhabi.

The real story here is two-fold. The first is the Bush administration's penchant for secrets. The deal smells fishy. The company in question has dealings with the Bush family. Was the whole thing a quid pro quo for Bush-family private business? The seething firestorm could have been avoided, if the administration had just bothered to seek congressional advice ahead of time. In that respect, it sounds a lot like the NSA wiretap scandal. Second, Bush complained yesterday about the "double standard" in our dealings with port-operating companies. Nobody complained when a British company had the contracts, the President pointed out. This is true, but then again, Britain is our second-oldest ally (after France), and hasn't attacked our soil since 1812. Why shouldn't we play a bit of favoritism with our closest friends? That assumes, of course, that no American company is competent enough to operate our own ports.

It seems to me that the best way to operate our ports--and maintain national security--is not to outsource the operations. But we can't expect much from an administration that has stood idly by while whole native industries are sent packing to India and China. The controversy ultimately devolves into the continuing story of the Wal-Mart-ization of America.

The Torturous Tale of LOST

The Torturous Tale of LOST

Last Wednesday's episode centered around Sayid, and how he became a torturer for the Republican Guard. Just in case we didn't get that point, the writers had Sayid announce, "My name is Sayid Jarrah, and I am a torturer."

As the flashbacks unfolded, it became apparent that the CIA taught Sayid to torture. Clancy Brown, of the late, lamented Carnivale, played the evil American government agent. He tricked Sayid into applying the screws to his commanding officer--although why the agent went through all that trouble was not made apparent.

Anyway, the questions about when and whom to torture were posed with a certain degree of artistic merit. Sayid's decision to torture the captive were not laid out in simple, black-and-white terms, the kind of terms you find in a lesser work, such as 2004's disgusting and depressing Man on Fire. It says a lot about our country today that torture is now the topic du jour. Whatever happened to all that "freedom" and "democracy" that Bush is always touting? Do "free" people torture?

The usual fallacy I hear from people who approve of Guantanamo is that "we have to torture those guys to protect ourselves." Then they pose the argument from fear that if a captured terrorist had information about an atomic bomb hidden in a US city, wouldn't we approve of torture to prevent the bomb's detonation? Worst cases make a bad argument. Evidence has surfaced that most of the captives at Guantanamo were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or--even worse--were brought to the prison based on the delirious testimony of those already out of their minds from torture.

The latest Abu Ghraib photos are even more disgusting than the earlier ones. Rumsfeld says this is old news and that the people responsible have already been punished. I say, the people responsitble--Bush, Rumsfeld, Chaney, Wolfowitz and Bolton--will never face punishment in this world. They have rigged the game so that only the low-born and petty dictators who have garnered their disfavor face the world's tribunals.

Work and Money

Work and Money

This week, I started working part-time for Manual Labour, doing technical writing and editing. Bonni has hired me on under a 1099 to do a contract job--and several more are in the works. So far, I've found the work challenging enough, and the people have been good to work with. I'm hoping this is the start of more employment, and income, in Clementsville.

LOST last Wednesday night was both good and bad. It was entertaining to watch Sawyer's Machiavellian machinations as he pitted Jack against Locke, but I didn't buy into it. It seemed to be a character shift. For months they've been softening up Sawyer to be a bad boy with a heart of gold. Now we're supposed to believe he steals the guns and heroin, disrupts the morale of the camp and weakens their position against the Others, just over an ego trip and some old pain pills? Doesn't seem likely. The Hand of the Writers was clearly too visible here.

The Stupor Bowl

The Stupor Bowl

I drove over to Bill and Vicki's this afternoon for the big game. Really, Mark Johnson drove me, which was very kind of him. I still haven't gotten back into the driving saddle yet.

The game itself was deadly dull. Clearly, Pittsburgh was the anointed team this year. The "all star" officiating crew blew two key calls in the first half--the offensive interference call against Seattle and the bogus touchdown for the Steelers. Still, even though the 21-10 score belied it, the game never really seemed as close as it appeared. Kind of like objects in the rearview mirror.

The companionship at the party was what made the game. My parents came, as did the Cazins, Mark Johnson, Fred Beecher, the Klinzings, Ruben Ruiz, and some of Bill's old buddies from work. The weather was great, and most of us stayed on the back patio after the barbecue, watching the game on a rabbit-eared TV.

Later, we went inside after the sun went down and the weather cooled off. I left for home about 7:40, as the game was over and all else were taking their leave. When we got back to my place, Mark and I said our goodbyes. He's heading back to Sioux Falls on the 6:30 AM flight tomorrow. He really doesn't look different from the old days, except his hair is grayer now. It almost seemed as though he hadn't been away from Mira Mesa for the past 11 years. I did miss Ellen, his late wife, who passed away in 2004.

Certainly the tinge of mortality hung heavy in the air tonight. Admittedly, most of these friends are older than I am (by 2-10 years), but you know you're getting old when one of the main topics of conversation is everybody's illnesses. Two of the people present have deadly cancers, and as Bill joked, "scar night" is just around the corner.

Ann Coulter's Fallacies

For this week's essay, let's look at the latest column by Ann Coulter. It's penned in her usual sweet, elegiac style and she titles it, poetically, "Alito ... Boo!" Certainly, if I cannot find a fallacy or a hundred in a column by the woman who recently called for rat poison in John Paul Stevens's cereal, I cannot find fallacies anywhere.

In her op-ed piece, Coulter's point seems to be that Democrats are wimps--or something. One is never quite sure of Coulter's point, because she strings so much invective together that there's hardly a simple, declarative sentence in any of her essays. Not one to beat around the bush (or the Bush), Coulter starts right off comparing the Democrats in Congress to "Saddam Hussein's vaunted 'Elite Republican Guard'-- the ones who ran like scared schoolgirls...." Further on, she talks about "NARAL ladies running around Capitol Hill with machetes."  And she makes sure to mention Joe Biden's "hair plugs."

Her whole essay is one shoddy, yet juicy morsel--fear and loathing served on a platter of blood and iron (in the Bismarckian sense). There are so many straw men, arguments from outrage and ad hominem accusations in Coulter's essay that it seems she really isn't trying to convince her audience of anything. Hers is a pseudo-essay, no more interested in truth value than were the speeches of Joseph Goebbels in the Reichstag. These scurrilous attacks purvey a pulsing, pounding, prurient form of rhetoric. It's so egregious that I have coined a new name for it: the Ann Coulter Fallac-io.

Works Cited
Coulter, Ann. "Alito ... Boo!" Ann Coulter.com. 2005. <http://www.anncoulter.com/cgi-local/welcome.cgi>.

Why I Hate Republicans

Why I Hate Republicans

http://news.tbo.com/news/nationworld/MGBQSE7B2JE.html

Writers, Attack!

Writers, Attack!

This weekend, I attended the 23rd Annual SDSU Writers' Conference. The event was staged at the Double Tree Hotel in Mission Valley, from Friday night through Sunday afternoon.

All I accomplished Friday night was to arrive at the hotel, pick up my registration packet, and check on my scheduled appointment time for my meeting with a New York editor of the genre of fiction that I like to write.

I was really excited about the event. My first-ever consultation appointment! Hooray for me! The conference management had scheduled the appointment for 10:42 AM Saturday morning. And, it's not the kind of appointment you can skip or be late to. For those of you who don't know, a consultation appointment is what is referred to in the biz as a "pitch session." Upon entering the huge conference room, with tables lined up in neat rows, I met my editor and had 10 minutes to impress him with my novel synopsis.

I won't go into detail here, to protect the parties involved. But, to summarize, the meeting was a severe disappointment. It turned out that "my" editor doesn't do pitch sessions, so after that small detail was laid to rest, we spent the remaining five minutes discussing the banalities of the publishing game. No longer qualifying as a "newbie," there wasn't much I could take away from my meeting, except the disappointing feeling that either I was a fool, or the conference organizers had misled me. Neither conclusion was a happy one.

On the bright side, I had a lot of fun yesterday. First, I attended a seminar by Judy Reeves on flash fiction. What is flash fiction, and why should I care? Hahaha! Actually, given the public's short attention span these days, flash fiction is a genre worth exploring, for writers and readers.

After lunch, I attended a session by Scott Farrell on medieval arms and armor. It was such fun, Scott kept talking well over his 50-minute schedule and the conference allowed us to continue. He obviously loves talking about weapons and chivalric codes of valor. Harold brought his two boys, six and 10, and they had a great time too. Scott let them handle the weapons and put on some of the armor, which was more than I would have permitted if I had been holding the lecture.

A couple of other interesting sessions I attended were one by an agent, discussing the 10 criteria for a successful screenplay (successful being defined as one that sells). Another screenplay-related talk, by a woman whose name I can't recall, gave a brief overview of screenwriting essentials. One interesting tidbit: it used to be you would put your "inciting incident" at about page 30 of your manuscript. Now, it's down to page 15. What's next? Inciting incident in the opening credits? The prologue? The pre-release trailer?