Monday, April 29, 2013

Real and unreal terrors


Song of the day: Hallelujah I love her so, with Hugh Laurie


So, not a post on Marvellous People Monday, mostly because I, in my addled state of dealing with finals coming up and also finishing the first draft of my novel for CampNaNo, could not think of a badass of history or the present that had already been lauded for their fantasticness by the masses already. But I am sure I will think of something later, when I'm just about to fall asleep after grueling hours of writing and schoolwork.

Also since there probably isn't anyone reading this I can do whatever the hell I want and nobody will complain.

So I have this weird thing I do whenever I'm walking home at night after dark. I basically start imagining every horrific monster I ever saw in any media ever, and just how badly they would mess me up if I came across them.

 These buggers alone can render me an insomniac for hours at a stretch

I even had a this crazy idea about lampposts coming into life and sort of stretching and turning out to be these giant stick insects that are dormant for the day and come out at night to eat unsuspecting passersby.

What is in this tea?

But I don't imagine these things for the reasons you might expect, to whit scare myself out of my pants because it's fun or because my imagination gets overactive in the eerie surroundings. I do it because it's oddly sort of comforting. Because I know they're just in my head and they aren't really going to turn up, and therefore I preoccupy myself with scary but harmless stuff so that I don't think about the equally scary but actually harmful stuff that can happen to a person walking alone outside at night.

I think it really says something about either the human psyche or the fear campaigns in media (or both) that despite people virtually NEVER getting assaulted in any way whatsoever where I live (well, except if they're on the main street getting outrageously swazzled), that most people are still terrified to go outside after dark. You know, they still do it and everything, but meanwhile they are trying not to have an early heart attack and keel over. Not so much of fear for the darkness itself, but for the things hiding in it.

Or some such stuff. It might just be me secretly having fun attempting to scare myself. I mean, if you can scare yourself with your own stories, you might have an easier time scaring other people. Which is, you know, kinda important when the story you're trying to write is at least partially horror.

I really should write down that thing about the stick insects...

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Nerdy love affairs: Or, the liking of stuff and why it's not a bad thing.

Song of the day: The Shire Theme by Howard Shore

When I was six years old, I fell in love with the first time. Actual, deep, long lasting love, too, not just a passing crush.

Not with an actual living human person, of course, oh no.

With a book.

Specifically, J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit.

And, believe it or not, that affair hasn't ended yet, nor does it seem particularly likely to do so in the future.

That is, more often maybe than people let themselves admit, probably the basis for being a fan or a nerd or a geek about something. I mean, sure, there are varying levels, but I know an amazing amount of people that just have this one thing that introduced them to maybe a certain medium (books, movies, video games, anime) that they just never get tired of even years later. Both because of nostalgia being what it is, and that if it was good enough to make them fall in love with it in the first place, it probably really is pretty damn good.

And that's a strange thing, isn't it? I mean, it's perfectly socially acceptable to despise something or be seriously annoyed by it, or, more frequently, be apathetic to things in general (I suspect it being an offspring of the parasitic entity of ''cool''), but seriously being into something and being able to talk about the various factors of it for ages and people just go okay, that's freaky, what's wrong with you
Even if they have a Thing themselves, whether they admit to it or not. It's like getting passionate about something is breaking some generally perceived rule of 'don't try too hard' that no-one really knows the origins of.

And that's really what nerding out over and being a nerd for something really mean, don't they? That you have something that you really love and get very passionate about. And that tends to be a lot more fulfilling than hating something or, gods forbid, being apathetic in almost every regard. 

That one Thing a lot of people have can be an anchor for them in its nostalgia in strange times, be they difficult or wonderful. Occasionally the love for the Thing is rekindled, if we are lucky enough, by some talented and wonderful people who love it as much as we do and wish to see it back in the world again.

So when I went to see The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, I wasn't cautiously optimistic. I greatly respect the work of Peter Jackson and the amazing people he works with beforehand, and I had no worries what-so-ever that he would fail.

And I've got to tell you

It was like coming home.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Marvellous People Monday: Angela Burdett-Coutts

Song of the day: Something Wicked - Vernian Process (uh, not meant to reflect our subject in any way.)

So, think that badass ladies are a thing of the present? Well, guess again! Today our subject is the fantastic Angela Burdett-Coutts, 1st Baroness Burdett-Coutts. Born in 1814, she became the richest woman in England in 1837 when she inherited three million pounds sterling from her grandfather (which was considerably more then then it is today.) And she did some remarkable things throughout her life, proving once again that money is probably the best superpower of all (or at least the most practical.)

Some may have read about her in Terry Pratchett's most recent novel, Dodger. At least I think it's his most recent novel. *goes to check* Yupp, told you. Still, that man is ridiculously prolific.
A trait she is most notable for in the book is that she helps people by helping them help themselves, which is something we can all respect, I think. Reinforcing the belief that 'with great power comes great responsibility' she became a dedicated philanthropist. One of her first works was establishing, with the help of her good friend Charles Dickens, the Urania Cottage, which helped women escape a life of theft and/or prostitution. A lot of her wealth (most of it, really) she spent on scholarships for other people, and established the so-called 'ragged schools' to provide education for poor children which could not afford it.

She was notable for not not taking sides politically, but, to quote wikipedia, '...she was actively interested in phases of Imperial extension which were calculated to improve the condition of the black races, as in Africa, or the education and relief of the poor or suffering in any part of the world.' I'll just leave that here, since I'm not actually sure what to make of it.

Other of her philanthropic projects included giving help to Turkish peasants and refugees in the 1877 Russo-Turkish war, which won her the Order of the Medjidie, a knightly order of the Ottoman Empire (which was also the only instance of it being presented to a woman.) She also established soup kitchens, the Temperence Society, and financed the first archaeological survey of Jerusalem to improve its sanitation. She even provided financial banking for Charles Babbage's Analytical Engine, the forerunner of the modern computer!

She was, as mentioned above, a good friend of Charles Dickens, Michael Faraday, and also the Duke of Wellington. She even proposed to the latter despite the forty year age difference, although the Duke rejected her on the basis that she probably oughtn't marry someone old enough to be her grandfather. She later also became a full member of the Royal Society.

Essentially I can't hope to do her life and accomplishments justice, but I respect her immensely for her seeming determination not to die rich. You can find a more complete account of her here and here. Take heart, people. If someone like Angela could be this awesome in the Victorian Era, we're probably just starting.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

My ultimate rec list: In which I nerd out.

Song of the day: 'Death Eater Tango' by the Butterbeer Experience.

So I read fanfic. A lot.

And that means that I also see Sturgeon's law in action. A lot.

And it is true. About 90% of fanfic is... Not very good, or at least not fantastic, to say the least.

But, and bear with me, this also means that the remaining 10%... Are worth dying for.

So, those of you that have grown cynical by endless reading of substandard fanfiction I say to you, do not lose hope. For these fics are not only one of the few best fics I have ever read, but also among the best pieces of fiction, period, that I have ever read.

So, in no particular order, we have:


-The epic masterpiece (this being the original definition of 'masterpiece') that is Observations.
It takes place in the Star Trek 2009 reboot verse and gives a detailed account of life aboard the Enterprise from the point of view of First Officer Spock, and eventually becomes Kirk/Spock (the best I've ever read.)
It, for some considerable time after reading, left me disappointed in the general quality of fanfiction everywhere. That is, that I would have to lower my standards waaaaay down if I was to enjoy fanfiction again, because other fics just didn't measure up to this one. It gives such a deep and detailed analysis and observation (see what I did thar) of not just Spock but every single other character through his interaction and growth through knowing them, and vice versa. It may, literally, change your perception of fiction.


-The second one would be the magnum opus Truthfully.
Takes place in the the Marvel Cinematic Universe (and shares most continua except for Avengers). Long story short, Loki ends up on Earth after the events of Thor, and gets a therapist. Hilarity ensues.
Except, no. That doesn't cover it at all. This fic succeeds where so many have failed before; to take a broken character that could have been turned away from darkness if it had been tried in time, and develop him from that point on while staying faithful to his ground-work personality all the way through. No I haven't been reading too much purple prose. Why do you ask?

It is completely gen and no shipping involved whatsoever. However, it contains bucketloads of ho-yay and a reader would feel justified in shipping just about anything they felt like. Also contains one of the few amazing OC's I have had the pleasure to meet. Oh, and it is absolutely rib-crackingly hilarious. Like, seriously, I could only lie on my back when I slept for days after reading this fic in almost one sitting.


-Which would make the third one my great friend, Diplomacy.
This fic takes place in the Warcraft verse, somewhere around the beginning (end?) of Cataclysm, if I remember correctly. It can be considered a 'what if' story. Leaders from the two factions, Thrall an Jaina Proudmoore decide that war happening again between their people is out of the question, and go for the age-old trick of marriage between two mayor political figures. Namely, themselves. It also helps that they are most certainly in love with each other. Also contains some masterful usage of lore knowledge and associated tacklements. And knowledge of human (and other humanoid) nature.

This fics deals with the political and social and ramifications and advantages (and such interesting politics! Who knew such a thing existed?) of such an act and realistically portrays how everything would play out. It also has a sneaky sense of humor and theatrics. T-rated at most. There is also the incredible portrayal of interaction between characters (and some lovely OC's that have their own backgrounds and backstories in the author's other works). It is also notable as a story with love as a major sub-plot, that no-one ever actually uses the words 'I love you,' and yet it is abundantly clear that they very much do.


-And then there is Memoirs of a Master.
While this fic can no longer be considered cannon after Kung Fu Panda 2, that absolutely does not mean it has been made redundant. It follows the supposed backstory of Master Shifu from the beginning of his training at the Jade Palace at age four right up to and after the events of Kung Fu Panda. It has a whole gallery of amazing, incredible OCs that I could in no way do justice. There is a bit of m/m OC character shipping, but even if you don't slash, with a story this good, missing out on reading it for something like that would be a great loss. The author's use of Chinese cultural knowledge, lore and myths is beautiful and a delight for anyone who loves a good story.

It does get pretty dark at several points, so I'm not sure if the rating can be consistently any one thing, since it seems to range all the way from K up to M (not for naughty stuff, just lots of bloody fight scenes and a few deaths.) 

Oh, and just a fair warning; it's going to make you cry. Hard. I didn't expect it when I read it first, but OH MAN, it just rips your heart out and stomps all over it. But it's worth it in the end. Trust me on this.


-And at last there is The Toymaker and the Widow.
This is a love story, in the best sense of the word. Please note that I tend to shy away from stories that have romance as a main plot since I tend to think that is a very difficult thing to hinge a whole plot on successfully on top of not being what you would call a traditionally romantic person.

That said, this isn't a story about romance, since love and romance are, remarkably, not the same thing.
It is set in the Hobbit verse, and I know what some of you (including myself) would think. There is no romance whatsoever in the original novel and therefore I always have a hard time shipping anything because I tend to be a dreadful stickler for cannon. That said it is between Bofur and an OC - please don't run away! Come back, it's actually amazingly good!

Thank you. Now, the OFC is just so amazingly human - er, dwarf, every facet of her character making her a real person and not just some front for a self insert or suedom. She is flawed, stubborn, strong, knows her own mind... There really isn't much I can say to do her justice, except I almost wish she existed just so that I could shake her by the hand. Her daughter is also wonderful and so much like an actual kid in a way that kids often aren't in fiction. 

Bofur also gets so much more characterization that could ever be possible in either the novel or the film(s). So much in fact that this fic has quite by accident become my official headcannon for him. It establishes these characters before the quest for Erebor and then may possibly (it's a work in progress) delve into if the existence of these OCs may affect how the story turns out. All said and done, this fic just makes me want to huggle the characters for being so incredibly... Human. While being, you know, dwarves. And now I feel like a specist.  Just... Go read it. Read all of them, if you can. I may actually make your life just a touch more fantastic.

One day I may actually give these fics the pages-long posts they deserve, but that's for another day.

And, yes, I am aware that as I am sporfling over other people's wonderful and amazing works of art, I should be working on making a dent in my word count, since I am unfortunately behind because of a brief bout of nasty sickness. Wish me luck.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Ferdinand the seagull and my to-do list

Song of the day: The Baker Street sax solo... on a loop.

So, this is more or less what yesterday's to-do list looked like:

-Write that history project during my free hour
-Talk to the philosophy teacher about my essay
-Eat an ananas
-Go home
-Find the bird
-Bury the bird, dig up in about three months' time
-Go home
-Keep writing the essay
-Procrastinate on CampNaNo because I somehow thought it would be a good idea to write a novel during the last month of school just before exams
-Become a giant wobbly octopus of despair, faceplant on my bedroom rug.
-Go to sleep

I like making to-do lists. They always make it look like you have accomplished something, even if that accomplishment is writing a to-do list.

Oh, the bird part? Yeah, I should probably explain that.

So I was going to school by bus when I look out the window and see this dead seagull lying by the mire by the side of the road, and thought 'this may be one of my few chances to get a complete skeleton for my bone collection!' So, having read the blog of the genius that is Jake, I decided that burying the cadaver would be the best method to get rid of all those fleshy bits I didn't need.

After school, I went to look for the bird, and since it happily hadn't been moved/ripped to bits/eaten in the time that I was away, it was whole enough for me to put in a plastic bag and find a handy place to bury it. I can't imagine what the drivers passing me must have been thinking, as I was standing there by the road with a bandana over my face, picking up freshly killed birds like some kind of an insane, would-be serial killer. Oh, and I did wear gloves. AND I washed my hands thoroughly afterwards. I'm not a complete idiot.

To be honest, it wasn't as icky as I thought it would be, although granted quite some time was spent by me poking it with a stick saying 'ew' a lot. Something had eaten away its chest so that the keel bone was visible, and its eyes had been pecked out, but other than that it wasn't too bad. It also wasn't very smelly since it had only been there a short time.

The tricky part was finding an appropriate place to bury it. Since I live in Iceland, the soil here is mostly volcanic ash and thus very light, and tends to become either very sandy or clay-like, which isn't good for burying as that usually ends up with the body mummified, which wasn't really my goal. Of course, I also had to avoid the seagull nesting site, since they normally become frisky around this time of year, and since I was carrying their dead buddy on top of that, well...

So after walking around the moss/lava fields (seriously, what is the English term for that?) I found a handy place by what may be an old mine and started digging. At one point I saw a girl walking her dog and could only pray to whatever entity that might be listening that she wouldn't come my way. So many questions to answer, so little time.

Also, that horrible moment when you are digging a temporary grave for a dead seagull and suddenly every High School Musical song starts playing in your head SIMULTANEOUSLY.

Awkward.

After mentioning this to my friends, I was the but of Vlad-the-Impaler jokes for some time, which I of course bore with dignity.





Ehem.

I then had a conversation with my Italian philosophy class friend, and I can't remember how we came to that conclusion, but the bird is now named Ferdinand, and I have been challenged to write a musical about him.

A musical about a zombie seagull named Ferdinand. I'm surprised that isn't already a thing.

Anyway, he should be bones alone by the end of July, which is when I will dig him up and clean up the bones and (hopefully) rearticulate him into a whole skeleton which I will then hang as decoration in my house.

I can't wait to freak out the neighbors. Mwahaha.

Until then, my non-existent readers,

Peace and long life!

Monday, April 15, 2013

Marvellous People Monday: Doctor Sanduk Ruit

Song of the day: It's a wonderful world - Louis Armstrong

Ever heard of Doctor Sanduk Ruit? You probably haven't, despite the fact that this guy treats (and cures!) about 2,500 people A WEEK for cataract blindness.

Oh, and if you're poor,  he won't charge you a penny for it. Because he can.

Doctor Ruit developed a method of eye-surgery entirely without stitches in 1986, where he removes the cataract lenses in people's eyes, and replaces them with intraocular lenses he developed himself. These, unlike such lenses manufactured in developed countries which cost about 100$, only cost about 3,5$ dollars. The surgery itself takes about five minutes. The whole operation really only costs about 20$. As someone who would probably go insane if I ever suffered blindness, I can really appreciate this.

And thus this man just goes gallivanting with his traveling hospital into the mountains of Nepal, where many people suffer from blindness due to dangerous UV rays in that altitude... and lets them see again. That's just beautiful.

He co-founded the Tilganga Eye-Center in 1994, which is a non-profit, non-government organization which runs on donations. They have worked in Nepal, North Korea (seriously!), Afghanistan, Bhutan, China/Tibet, India and Pakistan.


Bask in the awesome, people!

So next time you feel despair at humanity because some twat doesn't know "your" from "you're" in the youtube comment sections, think of Dr. Ruit. Because if humans can still be that fantastic, I think we can ease up the worrying.

Links for the Himalayan Cataract Project and the Tilganga Institute.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

I think about stuff

Song of the day: Hey there Cthulu by Eben Brooks

Imagine singing this at the top of your lungs as you are re-arranging the bananas and a customer comes into the shop. She left in a hurry, for some reason.

Still, it's not like you have any other choice between singing (they don't allow iPods/mp3s) and the radio. And when you start hearing the same song four times every hour on the same station, you either turn it off or slowly go insane. You clever radio people may think no-one listens to your station long enough to notice, but we do.

That said, I like my job. Not that many people come in, so it gives plenty of time for studying thinking of deep philosophical questions, like 'did Ted Knight and Jim J. Bullock had anything to talk about on the set of Too Close for Comfort?'

Okay, not my idea, but a still very good question.

What am I saying, I haven't even seen that show.

Another would be 'how the hell is a wedding between my atheist self and my Catholic friend ever going to work in thirty years' time when we (or at least me) inevitably turn out as crazy cat lady spinsters? We would never be able to agree on the decorations!'

Or I'll just constantly draw the sign of the Deathly Hallows because it's not like I can draw anything else.

 It never looks half as cool as this, though.

Then there is the strange moment when a photo in your local newspaper looks like comedian Lee Mack. Maybe he has an evil (good?) twin living a low-key life in Iceland. Or he has dopplegangers in every country on stand by to protect his secret identity as Comedian Man.

I also think I'll jump on the 'what the hell weather, it's spring and we're getting really tired of your shit' train. I mean, for the last weeks, there has literally been one day snow, the other windy, then sunny, then the whole cycle repeats. I guess I'll just blame global warming. Or blame us for global warming, therefore blame us in extension for the weather.

Now, it's time for sweet potato fries (oh gods so delicious), and finally getting my mum to watch The Hobbit with me so I can share my nerd-love for it. More on that later.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Flying turtles?

Song of the day: 500 Miles by Celtic Thunder

There are few things better than reheated pizza on a Saturday morning.

Well, actually there are probably quite a few things better than that, but that's the best thing about pizza; when it's good, it's good. When it's bad, it's still pretty good. In the words of a great man, you might imagine great banquets of exquisite food, but in the end of the day, you'll still settle for some eggs and bacon, if they're tastefully done and perhaps have a slice of tomato.

On another note, I am waiting for the beginning of the CampNaNoThon, which is just around the corner, though it will be 5.00 PM at my place and not ten in the morning. Wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to worry about time differences. I will either be late or horribly late, depending on if my manager lets me have a double shift or not. So that will mean either four or eight hours of sitting behind a register pondering my life choices, since no-one ever shops there in the weekends. You would think that all the easy-go would be a good thing, but it's so horrifically boring that after sitting there for a while you become convinced that the clock is turning backwards.

On top of that, I keep finding weird scribbles in my writing notebook. One was 'flying turtles.' The strange part is that no-where in my story is the focus on aliens or sea creatures. The bad part is that I can't remember what the hell I was thinking, which is awful, because flying turtles sound amazing.


Oh, internet. You really do have everything.

They're such wonderful animals, though. Even though they always look like some sort of secret agents, the way they look at you. As in 'this conversation did not happen. This room is not real. I am not real. Maybe, you are not real.'

Wow. Secret agent turtles are giving me an existential crisis. What is my life?

They have seriously strange skeletons as well. Their skulls look alien. Like, if you saw them, and you didn't know what they were, your first guess would be 'alien.' And their vertebrae are basically fused to the shell, so removing a turtle's shell is impossible without killing it. Which is why Golden Eagles, instead of having to deal with that pesky shell, just pick them up and drop them from great heights to break it. Kinda arseholish when you consider that these birds are/were used in Mongolia to hunt wolves. This technique supposedly resulted in the death of the ancient Greek dramatist Aeschylus, the eagle apparently mistaking his head for a convenient rock and letting go. I really hope this is true. I mean, there is just something wonderful about the fact that in this universe, it is possible to be brained by a tortoise. When compared to a lot of other potential ways to die, I would probably go with this one. I mean, at least it's quick, and the funeral would be a laugh riot.

How did I even get on this topic? 

Friday, April 12, 2013

Banananas and CampNaNo

So in philosophy class a couple of days ago I hear a friend of mine say the word 'banana,' only I hear it as 'banananas.' And that got me thinking, what would a banananas look like, that is the mix of a banana and an ananas (I refuse to call it pineapple since you English speakers are the only ones that refer to it like that and amazingly enough, it's neither a pine or an apple.) Would it be like a banana shaped ananas or an ananas with banana skin on the outside? Eventually I decided on the former.

And then when I got home I got home I googled it.

IT EXISTS

LOOK AT IT. JUST LOOK AT IT FOR A MOMENT

Okay, so it's photoshopped, but still. I love this so much that I've got it as my desktop background.

I could make a cult around this thing. Honestly, the banananas will fulfill your life. Bow to it.


On another note I have reached the 20K in CampNaNoWriMo Click here for those of you who don't know the awesome. Which means that the famed 'almost half-way there' slump may be setting in any moment now. You know, the feeling you get when you're happily typing along and then suddenly think to yourself 'good golly, I should go re-read what I have just written, I'm sure it will be great!'

And then ten minutes later you are lying face down on the floor moaning 'I WANT TO DIIIIE' having just realized that first drafts always suck.

But you know, being allowed to suck on a first draft is important (why does that sentence sound so wrong?) If you just let your writing be awful for a while and just power through and finish the damn story, you can leave the part of making it awesome to the re-writes.

Not that I'm some kind of a writing guru or anything. I mean, this is only my second full length novel -_-"

Which I should actually be working on right now along with school work, and not be writing a blog post that won't ever be read by anyone. But at least it's a good getting rid of writer's block.

Which reminds me, I've got like a ton (okay, maybe a kilo) of bones in the bathroom cupboard that I need to put in acid.

Wow. That really does make me sound like a serial killer when out of context, doesn't it?