Showing posts with label monkeys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label monkeys. Show all posts

Friday, February 25, 2011

19 Things You Probably Didn't Need to Know

I was wild and free, roaming the blogosphere with nary a care in the world, but then I paused too long in one spot and got tagged by J.B. Chicoine. And just like with all those other tagged animals out there, followers can now learn more about me by observing my behavior, such as how I react to these 19 different stimuli:

  1. If you have pets, do you see them as animals, or are they members of the family?
    They're animals, so of course I see them as animals. Why would I ever see my son Schrödinger (a hep cat), cousin Calypso (quite the sly lynx), or sister Sonya (that old dog) as anything other than animals?
     
  2. If you can have a dream come true, what would it be?
    Well, there was that one dream with Natalie Portman, Kirsten Dunst, and Scarlett Johansson. That was one kick-ass game of Laser Tag.
     
  3. What is the one thing most hated by you?
    At this moment, I have a seething hatred for Question 3. It's awkward, overly wordy, and said some truly awful things about my mother.
     
  4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
    If I had a billion dollars, that's a thousand times more than a million dollars. So, I'd just buy you everything the Barenaked Ladies suggested, but in multiples of a thousand. You know: 1,000 K-cars, 1,000 green dresses (but not real green dresses; that's cruel), 1,000 monkeys (haven't you always wanted 1,000 monkeys?), that sort of thing.
     
  5. What helps to pull you out of a bad mood?
    One of those giant vending machine claws. But man, does it take a lot of quarters.
     
  6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
    Let's see... my wife loves me, and every time I sneeze she blesses me. But when she sneezes, all she gets is a Gesundheit. So there's your answer: being loved (though being allergic to everything certainly helps).
     
  7. What is your bedtime routine?
    Dental hygiene is important, so first I brush my molars, bicuspids, and incisors 30x each, and my cuspids 10x each. (They know what they did.) Armed with a flamethrower, I then check my closet and under the bed for monsters/lobbyists. Finally, I put on my footie pajamas (Voltron, or if those are in the wash, The McLehrer News Hour) and read for exactly 13 minutes before knocking myself out with a hit of general anesthesia from that canister I stole from the local ER last year.
     
  8. If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?
    Inside a Blue Turtle. True story.
     
  9. If you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?
    Leonardo da Vinci. Not only would I love to watch him work, but it would also mean I've created a working time machine. Huzzah!
     
  10. What kinds of books do you read?
    I only read paranormal self-help.
     
  11. How would you see yourself in ten years time?
    Probably the same way as I do now: with a mirror. Or with that time machine I built in Question 9.
     
  12. What's your fear?
    I fear I'm afraid of phobophobia.
     
  13. Would you give up all the junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit space?
    What's the point of visiting space if you can't have an Easy Cheese spray duel with your fellow astronauts?
     
  14. Would you rather be single and rich, or married and poor?
    You're asking if I'd give up my money just for the tax benefits that come from filing jointly? That's rich!
     
  15. What's the first thing you do when you wake up?
    Try to chew through the leather straps.
     
  16. If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner, what would it be?
    I wouldn't change a thing; she's perfect just the way she is. (Okay, now that she's been appeased and has moved onto the next question... I think it'd be really cool if she had telekinesis.)
     
  17. If you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?
    Bieber McLovin Wilson.
     
  18. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
    They say to forgive is divine, and that an elephant never forgets. I am neither god nor pachyderm, so I shall do neither. I will, however, help her get rid of the bodies again.
     
  19. If you could only eat one thing for the next six months, what would it be?
    Only one thing? Well, anything big enough to sustain me for six months wouldn't fit in the fridge; it'd either go bad or get eaten by ants. And almost anything smaller would leave me starving for the last couple months. So, it's not the most appetizing option, but I guess I'll be feasting on Prometheus's liver.

Have you learned anything, dear readers? I hope so, since I sure haven't.

I'm also supposed to tag four of you to keep this thing going, but in case you forgot, this blog is where memes go to die. If you're itching to answer these questions, consider yourself tagged. Otherwise, roam free, dear readers. Roam free.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Putting One Footnote in Front of the Other

Once upon a time,1 there was2 a blogger3 who had been neglecting his readers.4 In a misguided attempt5 to appease them, he decided to jam-pack6 an entire month's supply of footnotes7 into a single post8 in order to stave off possible wheelfiritis.9 There were no known survivors.10


1 Wow, did I really open with such a cliché? I might as well be starting a movie preview with "In a world where...", beginning a joke with "A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar..." or walking into a bar and saying "So, do you come here often?" This lack of originality doesn't bode well for the rest of the post.
2 Well, at least it's not "in a land far, far away," but "there was" connotes telling rather than showing, and as a writer it's usually better to do the latter. I mean, which do you prefer: "Joe was tall" or "Joe smacked his forehead on the door frame as he followed me in. 'Fuck!' he said. 'That's the third time this week.'" The second one, right? Of course. People adore violence and profanity.
3 I'm not naming names; I ain't no rat. According to the horoscope, I'm a lion. According to the Chinese horoscope, I'm a horse. According to the Chinese fluoroscope, I'm a pig, and should lower my cholesterol.
4 All of whom are svelte, alarmingly intelligent people, with the exception of Francois T. Parfait of Austin, TX, who is, in fact, a monkey.
5 The only kind of attempt I ever attempt.
6 Twice as effective as jamming or packing. Three times as effective as pam-jacking.
7 I get them wholesale. The quality sometimes suffers, but I Kant campaign aboot the Pryce.
8 Single post with offbeat sense of humor seeks same. Enjoys reading, surfing, and traveling to other countries in the blink of an eye. Allergic to cookies and LOLCats.
9 Previously known as acute footnote withdrawal. Additional symptoms include: pink eye, yellow fever, blue blood, purple heart, brown coat, white knuckles, red balloons, and green clover.
10 Although the dead are now risin' up, back on the street.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Search Me

You may have noticed my time here at The Wheel has been sparse in recent weeks. In my defense, I've been working on a writerly pursuit far more important than my blog.

No, not my novel; don't be silly. Someone else's novel.

I've been beta-reading my friend Jen's manuscript, and I take my job seriously. Plot holes, stilted dialogue, info dumps... I ignore all of these and focus solely on characters' names.1

Anyway, today we'll be talking about how people get here. No, not how the birds and the bees have crazy monkey sex to make babies. How people get to my blog. Specifically, how people who've never met me, or who didn't find their way here through another blog, found their way here.

I'm talking search terms.

The top two picks, as you might expect, are ninja haiku and horrible puns. There are also variations on my name and my blog name, and the recent addition of zombie apocalypse christmas. All of these make perfect sense. More surprising is the number of people searching for fire puns, wheel puns, doorstep puns, and horrible fire puns.

But in my opinion, the ones that follow are the best of the best. The most amusing, the most bizarre, the most awesome. If I've figured out what page they ended up on, I've included the link.

Top 10 Search Terms That Led Someone Here
  1. cat bile too much water
    Judged on its own merits, this isn't even worthy of making the top 10. But if you consider the context, then what it means is I probably saved a cat's life!2
  2. Justice League belly-dance
    But really, who hasn't searched for this?
  3. how does aeneas charachter develop in book 7 in the aeneid show a change in tone, style and direction from the previous books
    My blog never provided the answer to this question... until now! In Book 7, I believe Aeneas was getting older, so therefore his tone became more curmudgeonly, his style more rife with flexible waistbands and oatmeal stains, and his direction more lost.
  4. humbert: i wish i knew how to quit you
    Oh, Humbert, you sexy beast.
  5. i am a ninja sometimes i walk on my toes
    Sorry, buddy, wearing tights and walking on your toes doesn't automatically make you a ninja. You're still a ballerina.
  6. daugher young lolitas
    Come to The Wheel for all your pornography needs! Get 'em while they're young! Get 'em while they're... your daughter?! WTF!3
  7. significant weakness in the lead up to feb 24th when it may back off
    Hold on—when what might back off?! And what weakness? I have no weakness!
  8. фильм колесо огня
    If I still had my Uzbekistani cat, she could have provided a translation for this. But alas, it's all Greek to me.4
  9. ninga ball on fier.com
    What the hell? How come I wasn't invited to the ninga ball?!
  10. sometimes...hello
    And, sometimes not.
Goodbye.


1 "Edward sounds like a wuss. What if you named him Capt. Nathaniel von Doppleganger instead? And hey, Natilda would be a wonderful choice for the heroine."
2 Which would make it two saved cats! After hearing my story, a co-worker brought her cat to the vet, and his kidney failure was caught while still in the early stages. He's already been put on a kidney-friendly diet. I still miss Marcelle, but it's wonderful that through her death others will live!
3 Wow, That's Funny!
4 Yes, even the letters that are Cyrillic. Which is all of them.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Seventeen Syllables of Shame

Yesterday, I abused Stephanie Thornton’s Haiku Blogfest for my own purposes. I feel my actions were justified because I was not promoting myself so much as I was promoting a way for the other blogfest participants and readers to win some cold hard cash.1 Yet, while some people considered my entry witty or creative, others were less than amused.

It has been said that all great art is controversial. And now, thanks to my little stunt yesterday, I have proven that art that is mediocre at best can be controversial, too. (See? I did it for science!)

Anyway, to make up for my insolence, I shall share five more (5! more!) haiku today. Come, let us celebrate Day 2 of the Haiku Blogfest!

First, here’s one related to my novel:
What is that I hear?
Invisible monkeys? Crap!
This doesn’t bode well.
Second, a twist on traditional haiku imagery:
The bough sinks lower
Claws grip the cherry blossoms
Hang in there, kitty
Third, the one I performed at my sister’s wedding last year:
This is a haiku
For both Josh and Naomi
On their wedding day
Then, a short fairy tale:
Once upon a time,
In a land far, far away,
Stuff happened. The End.
And we’ll end with a true story:
Beneath the willow
A cool breeze, or winds of change?
Tomorrow I wed.
If you haven’t had enough yet, you can also check out all the ninja haiku (and the limerick!) submitted for my other contest earlier this year.

So, am I absolved?

(Note: I will announce the winners of the contest at the heart of this controversy later today.)


1 Which is neither cold, nor hard, nor cash. (Amazon gift cards in their digital form are more warm and fuzzy cash-equivalents, don’t you think?)

Thursday, August 26, 2010

A Vermont Vacation: By the Numbers

Last week I stayed at the same Vermont campground my family's been going to for the past twenty years. Here's the breakdown:

Length of vacation, in days: 7
Near-death experiences: 0*

Ben & Jerry's flavors consumed: 8
Total flavors of ice cream devoured: 12
Cider donuts completely and utterly massacred: 6

Days I wrote for at least an hour: 4
Days I napped for at least an hour: 1
Days I read for at least an hour: 6
Books finished: 4**

Moose Crossing signs passed: 13
Times I sang the phrase MooOOOOoose Crossing: 31
Times I was alone whilst doing this: 31

Years since I last played a round of golf: 2
Holes played: 9
Birdies: 1
Triple bogeys: 2
Times my hat blew off on the first hole: 5

Games played: 24
Evil Trivial Pursuit teams vanquished: 1
Croquet mallets brandished menacingly: 2
Shuffleboard sticks wielded malevolently: 1
Frisbees knocked away maliciously: 11
Adverbs hurled malignantly: 19

Shooting stars witnessed: 6
Stars visible in VT that aren't visible in CT, in gazillions: 2.7

Photos taken: 230
Photos taken using my snazzy new tripod: 54
Photos of wildlife: 20
Photos of people: 10
Photos of random plastic monkeys: 2***

Days until I go back: 352


* That makes one year in a row!
** Not a serious book among 'em:
The Light Fantastic, Terry Pratchett
The Sea of Monsters, Rick Riordan
How Did You Get This Number, Sloane Crosley
The Big Over Easy, Jasper Fforde
*** Technically, one was a random plastic ape, but that's not important. Also not important: I happened upon two other random plastic monkeys I didn't photograph. True story.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

A Novel: By the Numbers

That’s right, it’s time for my quasisemibiannual novel update! And today, a special treat: Instead of crafting an entire blog entry for you fine folks, I’ll spend half the time hurling digits at you. Which is rather fitting, since a character loses his in the story’s opening line.

Anyway, two days ago I came to a decision: After months and months of not working on my novel, I would — pause inserted for dramatic effect — work on my novel. No more excuses about writing workshops or planning a wedding or how I only had two more planets to destroy in the whole Trans-Zarkonian Nebula.1 It was time to write.

Sure, right now my Magnum Opus is more Magnum (gun-toting private investigator) than Opus (silly-looking penguin), but I hope to remedy that and provide more of a balance during the rewrite. And oh! such rewriting there will be. Scanning through the unfinished manuscript these past couple of days, I’ve found miles of dreadful exposition, scene after scene where little of interest happens, and adverbs out the wazoo.2 I foresee a lot of editing in my future.

But enough about the future. Let’s talk about the past. And let’s use numbers...

Note: Values marked with a single asterisk (*) are estimates, because, let’s face it, I’m one lazy S.O.B.3

Current page count: 257
Current word count: 106,797
Total words that should likely be stricken from the record: 25,834*
Pages of my own proposed edits, additions, and subtractions: 37
Proposed edits, additions, and subtractions: 359
Proposed edits, additions, and subtractions that contradict each other: 61*

Length of novel-writing hiatus, in days: 180
Blog posts written during hiatus: 40
Short stories written during hiatus: 5
Excuses made during hiatus: 473*

Titles considered: 35*
Titles still in the running: 7-11
Chapters planned for finished manuscript: 40
Chapters currently completed: 33.3
Longest chapter, in pages: 15
Shortest chapter, in pages: 3
Sets of parentheses used (a surprisingly low total for me): 41
Uses of the word “fuck” (a surprisngly high total for me): 45

Major characters: 0
Colonel characters: 2
Invisible characters: 7
Invisible characters, including monkeys: 9
Chapters that involve invisible monkeys: 6
Chapters that should involve invisible monkeys, according to Jen: 42**
Individual points of view (all in the third-person): 12
Most chapters from one character’s POV: 7
Character deaths: 3
References to vampi—

Wait, really? Only three deaths so far? No no no, that just won’t do.

Okay, now that I have some proper motivation, I think I’ll sharpen up my cursor and see if I can’t kill off a few more of my characters. Wish me luck!


1 Um, yeeeaaah... In a video game. Let’s go with that.
2 Better than in the wazoo, I suppose. You know, for the sake of the wazoo. Because who knows where those adverbs have been.
3 As evidenced by how I didn't spell out S.O.B. Not even here, in this footnote.
** Yes, that is two more chapters than I have planned. But I'm pretty sure Jen would want me to add a couple new chapters devoted entirely to the monkeys.

Monday, May 17, 2010

A Quick and Dirty Dozen

I’ve been known to write the occasional book review, but I don’t have time to review every book I read. Besides, peoples’ attention spans are getting shorter by the day,1 and no one wants to slog through an entire review any more. That’d be almost as bad as reading the book itself.

Thus, I present to you the 12-pack: One dozen short reviews, covering a handful of my most recent conquests.

1 Officially 1.26 microseconds shorter, after that earthquake in Chile.

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Pretend, for a moment, that I’m a guy. Guys don’t read 500+ page love stories. Yet, right from the opening scene (I don’t count the unnecessary prologue as the opening scene), I was hooked. With time travel involved, Clare can first meet Henry when he’s 35, and he can first meet her 14 years later when he’s 28, and it all makes perfect sense. It’s a very clever premise, and Niffenegger handles it deftly; my only complaint is that the book feels incomplete. Since the focus is primarily on their relationship, we learn of Henry’s time-traveling exploits involving Clare, but get little more than hints of such visits to other friends and family. I wanted to explore all the time-traveling possibilities, but alas, I was stuck in a love story. A pretty damn good one, but still.



I Was Told There’d Be Cake by Sloane Crosley

The book jacket hypes her as the next David Sedaris, the next Sarah Vowell, the next Dorothy Parker. Even if, like me, you think Sedaris is overrated,2 those are some lofty comparisons for a first-time author. So, does my former college classmate measure up?

No, not quite. I Was Told There’d Be Cake has touches of brilliance, but overall the writing is uneven, and it’s rarely as funny as it’s trying to be. Surprisingly, my favorite essay employed two tactics that usually repulse me (2nd person narrative and scatalogical humor), while the promising “Bring-Your-Machete-To-Work Day” — about the computer game Oregon Trail — failed to hold my interest. Nevertheless, with her sardonic wit, perhaps Sloane will begin to fulfill what the book jacket promised when her sophomore effort comes out this summer.

2 He is, you know. Unless he’s reading his own material, in which case the rating is spot on.



Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome

Although this pseudo-travelogue, originally published in 1889, may begin to physically shed its pages halfway through your reading — as it did for me — its sense of humor remains intact even today. Yes, Jerome might go off on a boring tangent once in a while, but since tangents had only just been discovered earlier that decade, I’ll forgive him such missteps. Had I known more about boating, or been more familiar with the fascinations of the day, I might have enjoyed the book even more. But, I didn’t.



The Invisible Kingdom: From the Tips of Our Fingers to the Tops of Our Trash, Inside the Curious World of Microbes by Idan Ben-Barak

Invisible Kingdom’s introduction promised fascinating tales of microscopic entities, accompanied by copious humor and footnotes.3 The latter were indeed plentiful, though Ben-Barak’s humor never really lived up to my expectations: a chuckle here and there, but really only one laugh-out-loud moment. And while microbes are indeed interesting little buggers – four instance, I had no idea E. coli was doing such good in the world – the book as a whole felt disjointed, because Ben-Barak often chose to cover each microbe separately, without any real segues, rather than create a flowing narrative within each chapter. I was hoping to find another non-fiction treat along the lines of A Short History of Nearly Everything, or perhaps another Stiff, but sadly, it was not to be.

3 Woooo! Footnotes!



The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde

If you love the written word, and grammar-related humor in particular, then you should read the Thursday Next series, where books are policed by literary detectives. Start with the The Eyre Affair, though; this third installment (of five) isn’t as strong as its forerunners. This is partly because the plot thickens, by which I mean it congeals and doesn’t really go anywhere, and partly because the story is entirely fictional, by which I mean it takes place wholly in the BookWorld, rather than in the “real world” (a.k.a. an alternate 1980s England). Nevertheless, this book does boast one of the best literary exchanges ever in regard to grammar: the “had had” and “that that” problem. Check it out.



Coronado by Dennis Lehane

Dennis Lehane: Fantastic mystery/thriller novelist. Crappy short story writer.

The six stories (technically, five stories and one play) probably would’ve been better if he’d stuck to what he knows: mysteries that take place in and around Boston. That, or he could’ve added monkeys. Everything’s better with monkeys.4

4 Even monkeys.



The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis

Take it from me: Never revisit your childhood favorites. The Neverending Story (the movie) was blah. The Phantom Tollbooth dragged. And M.C. Hammer was a load of crap. Yet, because I’d enjoyed The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as a kid, I thought I’d relive the magic by reading the entire seven-book set.

Once I got past the nostalgia of the first book, the series was chock-full of inconsistent narration (mostly 3rd person, sometimes 1st), odd morals (Never eat a talking animal...oh, it’s dumb? Then dig in!), and a new set of child protagonists every time (whose personalities are all pretty much interchangeable). The stories were dull and the ending unappealing. I should have left my memories of Narnia locked up safe in the wardrobe of my brain.

Some people never learn.



The Sandman Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman

The personification of Dream is imprisoned for seventy years, then escapes and goes about reacquiring the instruments of his office. Though this collection, containing the first eight comics in the Sandman series, isn’t Gaiman’s best work, that certainly doesn’t mean it’s bad. Calling it good doesn’t do it justice, either.

It’s better than good. It’s Gaiman.TM



Take the Cannoli by Sarah Vowell

Nine out of ten doctors agree: Cannoli are healthier than guns. If you get shot with a cannoli, it won’t end your life; it just ends the life of the designer blouse that you’re wearing.5

Of course, all of this has little to do with Vowell’s book. She has this flair for weaving historical details into her own experiences, and vice versa. Take the Cannoli may not be as polished as some of her later works, but you can read about such divergent topics as her very first goth makeover, the suffering of the Cherokee along the Trail of Tears, and the time she helped her father fire off a cannoli. Er, cannon.

5 No, I’m not wearing a blouse. You are.



Wish I Could Be There: Notes From a Phobic Life by Allen Shawn

What’s that? Wallace Shawn’s brother wrote a book? And he has something like ten different phobias? That’s got to be an extremely insightful, engaging, and enjoyable read, right?

Yes, no, and no. While Allen Shawn delves deep into his own psyche to try to understand his many fears, he does so with few personal stories or anecdotes about his family. Indeed, much of the book reads like a scientific text. I’m sure it’s a fine book, but Shawn’s quest for knowledge didn’t quite jell with my selfish wish to be entertained, and thus, I gave up halfway through. Without reading the whole thing, I can’t fairly assign a rating... which might be for the best, considering Shawn probably has an irrational fear of flaming wheels.



The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag by Alan Bradley

Eleven-year-old Flavia de Luce is back, and sleuthier than ever. The opening scene may not pack quite the same punch as that of its predecessor, and it does take a bit longer to get to the meat of the story, but with Flavia once again giving the locals a run for their money as she tracks down a murderer, it sure doesn’t lack for entertainment.



Twelve Red Herrings by Jeffrey Archer

When a book comes right out and tells you that each of its stories has a red herring in it, that sort of defeats the purpose. Overall, the twelve tales were fun and well-written, but because I read each story looking for the twist or the misdirection, I caught it almost every time.

My biggest complaint, however, is with the last one in the collection. It’s a guy-meets-girl type of story, and Archer decided to provide four different endings. I usually enjoy that sort of thing, since we get to see how a small change in dialogue, manner, or timing can effect an enormous change on the full story line. Yet Archer goes about it all wrong. The main character is supposed to be the constant in such stories, with the world changing around him. But instead, in two of the four endings, the character’s back story is completely different. That threw me off, and made the tales less enjoyable.

Or maybe that was the point: those were the red herrings. Damn it, Archer! You tricked me!6

6 You'd have gotten away with it, too, if not for those meddling kids (to say nothing of their dog).

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

It's My Crypt Tonight

Everyone, no matter how tough or how fictional he or she is, has a weakness. For some, it may be a physical weakness or vulnerability. For others, it might be behavioral (e.g. too trusting of others) or something they’re no good at. Or, it could simply be something they’re powerless to resist, such as chocolate, or reality TV.

Achilles’ fatal flaw is legendary: Though the rest of him was impervious to pretty much everything, his heel was surprisingly vulnerable to poisoned arrows. Likewise, everyone knows Superman’s biggest weakness: people whose first and last name both start with the letter L (i.e. Lois Lane, Lana Lang, Lex Luther, Louis L’Amour).

I believe the most amusing discovery of a character’s shortcomings may be from Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, when Officer Palumbo says, upon being shot: “Bullets! My only weakness! How did you know?”

For easy reference, I’ve compiled a short list of some other famous weaknesses:

Character(s)Weakness(es)
Adam & EveTalking snakes
Green LanternWood. Or the color yellow. Yes, seriously.
Humbert HumbertPrepubescent girls
James BondHas his martinis shaken, which bruises the gin
Keanu ReevesEmotion; can only convincingly pull off “Whoa.”
King HippoLeaves his stomach unguarded when he jabs
King MidasGreed; everything he touches turns to mufflers
Marty McFlyBeing compared to chickens. Or the color yellow.
Pedro CerranoCan’t hit a curveball
Pinky & the BrainWhere are they going to find a moose wearing rubber pants at this hour?
Sarah PalinWhen mouth opens, words come out
Sherlock HolmesThe loving embrace of the neighborhood opium den
VampiresSunlight, garlic, crosses, holy water
Vampires (modern era)Mopey teenage girls
Wicked Witch of the WestPersonal hygiene.1

When it comes to writing, I know many of you liken me to a god, the way my words flow so effortlessly from my pen.2 Not that I use a pen. Nor do the words so much flow as they spit and sputter, inconsistently and with great effort, like I’m summoning the dregs from the bottom of a liquid soap dispenser. Nevertheless, many of you put my work up on a pedestal.3

Yet I am not infallible. Last week, in fact, I learned my greatest weakness as a writer: Setting.

I can interject a sentence or two of description here and there to help highlight a scene's location, but anything beyond that and the writing becomes dull and stilted; the story crumbles. My strengths are in the characters, the action, the dialogue. For an exercise on setting for my writing workshop this past week, I tried writing three different stories five different ways, and came out with fifteen different pieces of crap. Each time, although I could picture the setting quite vividly in my own mind, on paper it read like a 6th grade book report. And not a good one.

I’ll work at it. Eventually, my descriptions of settings may become passable and enhance the other aspects of my writing. But the important thing is that I’m now fully aware of my weakness. Thus, until I get this chink in my armor buffed out, you likely won’t catch me writing any long, descriptive passages.

In other words, I’ll be keeping my Achilles’ heel far, far away from your poisonous arrows.


1 That’s what happens when you can’t bathe and you surround yourself with monkeys.
2 Some of you, on the other hand, liken me to lichen.
3 Up there, no one can read it.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

And Then She Said Those Three Little Words...

“Center of Excellence.”

In fields such as health or technology, a Center of Excellence is often a place where top minds come together to share their knowledge and experience, and to strive for only the highest standards of achievement.

In the world of business, it’s a buzzword, a catchphrase designed to make something sound more impressive than it is. Affixing the label “Center of Excellence” to a group of talented or knowledgeable people does not automatically ensure that the work they create will, in fact, be excellent. On repeated hearings, the phrase sounds hollow and void of any real substance.

In a meeting today, someone proposed we create a Center of Excellence to help direct our company’s social media strategy.1 When I heard this, I died a little inside. Now, I’m all for getting the top minds together to make the best decisions, but if they’re seriously contemplating calling themselves the “Center of Excellence,” we need to find some better top minds.

I decided to do a little digging, and delved more into the meaning of Center of Excellence. As anyone can see, the center of “excellence” is two L’s. Or, in schoolyard parlance, “double hockey sticks.” However, I have it on good authority that any corporate Center of Excellence would have absolutely nothing to do with hockey. Not even air hockey. Nor would it involve football, turkey, zombies, monkey butlers, unrestrained laughter, skee-ball, ball pits, lasers, wolfsplosions, flux capacitors, hot fudge sundaes, footie pajamas, espionage and intrigue, Bill & Ted, Wayne & Garth, or C. Montgomery Burns.

How can something honestly be called “Excellent,” with a capital E, yet not contain a single one of these things? They might as well call it the Center of Mediocrity.2 At least that way, they won’t be getting anyone’s hopes up... and, if they succeed, they’ll look like geniuses!

Well, not like real geniuses. Real geniuses would have monkey butlers.3


1 Translation: ...to help figure out how we can use things like Facebook, Twitter, and blogs to get young people interested in a stodgy old insurance and financial services company. Like that’ll happen.
2 The center of “mediocrity” is, fittingly, the OC.
3 And lasers.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Give That Man a Medal

Much has been said over the last few days about President Obama winning the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize. Many people are of the opinion that he doesn’t deserve the award, to which I say: They’re absolutely right.

I wholeheartedly believe in Obama’s ideals and his vision, and I hope he'll be able to achieve most of what he has set out to do. However, the selection committee has bestowed this honor upon him only eight and a half months into his presidency, based more on his intentions and the world’s expectations than on his actual accomplishments. This isn’t only premature, it’s also unfair to the candidates with far greater achievements to date, those who don’t have the backing of the U.S. Treasury and might actually need the $1.4 million prize to help further their cause. I’d say the selection committee put the cart before the horse, but that wouldn’t be a particularly apt metaphor. It’s more like they gave the cart and the horse credit for traversing the whole of the Oregon Trail without ever setting foot outside of Missouri.1

Wait a minute... I’m two-thirds of the way into the first draft of my debut novel. I’ve already fostered exceedingly high expectations for the book among friends, family, and co-workers by merely divulging a few minor details.2 And once my masterpiece is finished, I intend to take the world by storm. So, why haven’t they handed me the Nobel Prize for Literature yet? Or, at least a lesser prize like the National Book Award? It hardly seems fair.

Obama hasn’t yet earned all of the acclaim he's received, but he’s just getting started. Over the next three (or seven) years, he’s sure to undertake initiatives far more worthy of the Peace Prize than anything he’s done so far. Of course, when that day rolls around, they’ll give it someone else.

I’d stake my Pulitzer on it.


1 Will Obama even be able to overcome the obstacles ahead? In another month, he might fail in his attempt to ford the Colorado River and lose 2 axles, 167 lbs of food, 3 sets of clothing, and Hillary (drowned).
2 Political assassination and invisible monkeys.