Project 52: A New Goal For A New Year

So 2012 has come and gone. With 2013 just ahead, as is customary, I intend to start out strong with a bunch of resolutions to further develop my already fantastic personality. My first goal was to develop a completely unjustifiable and insufferable sense of self-confidence, so I'm already off to a fantastic start!

So I've got the usual bag of goals to sort through - read more, exercise, date more even less (somehow) - but I also thought I'd try something new and challenging. Yes, I'm talking about YET ANOTHER writing goal. But it's a good one, I promise.

I recently learned of a musician named Jonathan Coulton. He's a bit of a nerd, but I can't help but like a lot of his music. He did something once upon a time called "Thing-a-Week," where he wrote and published a song every week for a year. I think he's done it a few times now. He admits a lot of what he s created is garbage, but he also wrote a song called "Mr. Fancy Pants" that may be one of my favorite songs ever (right now).

I thought, for 2013, I'd try something similar. I'm calling my endeavor

Project 52

and it's a little different.

Every week, from Monday through Friday, I will write something. A short story, a poem, a... something. Whatever it is I write, it will be done on Friday. Period.

That's part one.

In part 2, I spend Saturday and Sunday illustrating said written thing. The two pieces will go together, and I'll probably publish most of these creations here on the blog, where you are all free to ignore them as much as you wish.

I consider this something of a spiritual successor to me Daily Sketches from a few years back. This'll also mark my return to writing poetry, something I haven't really attempted in about two years. So, you know, there's a lot to look forward to.

I've already got ten ideas for Project 52 projects... and I've GOT to come up with a better term for the weekly creations, or this'll get redundant REAL fast. Some things you can look forward to are nursery rhymes, possible hymn lyrics, and Dr. Frankenstein's dating profile.

Yup, 2013 is gonna be a GOOD year!

Poem of the Week

Harlem (Dream Deferred)

By Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.


Or does it explode?

***

Second Langston Hughes poem I've posted. Seriously, guys, he's GOOD.

So 2013 is coming up next week. Anybody got any dreams they've been deferring? Well, STOP IT!

An iPadded Blog Post

So I got an iPad for Christmas, officially making me the coolest I've been since I got my first Radio Flyer wagon back nineteen-ought-six. I wanted to take a picture of my iPad (I named him "Star Trek"*) to share with all of you out in the blogoverse, but it turns out he's a little shy. So you'll have to settle with a Google picture.

I'm not really much of a technophile. Well, I did get an iPod shuffle when the iPod first came out, which hasn't been put to much use. Oh, and I guess I do have a Blu-Ray player - if you count my PS3, which I only got so I could play a Batman video game. So I was at first kind of resistant to getting a tablet. However, now that I've got one in my hot little mitts, I'm pretty sure that my life will now be different. FOREVER.

Or, you know, until the novelty wears off or whatever.

I spent all day yesterday fiddling around with the machine (with an obligatory 30-second time out to think about Jesus, since it was his birthday and all). Very quickly, I discovered that the iPad is the most expensive Christmas present anyone's ever given me. And that's most expensive FOR ME, not for the gift giver, although I'm sure it was pricey for them, too... What I'm saying is I've already dropped probably $80 or so getting my rig pimped out.

Truth is, I've actually wanted one of these little gizmos for quite some time. Now that I've got one, I plan on getting a good deal of use from it. As for what I'm going to use it for... well...

Writing

I used to spend a lot of idle time riding the bus. I got a lot of reading done. Now that I have a device that's actually portable (as opposed to that "laptop" thing I used to lug around), I think I can get a lot of writing done, as well.

Reading

I've kinda loved being in a book club. The problem with it, though, is that I buy a lot of the books we read. Now, in and of itself, that's not a problem... except when I come across a book I've no desire to read again. It winds up just lying around on my shelf, untouched and unloved. Like me.

Well, except for the "untouched" part. People found out I hate being touched and now they WILL NOT STOP.

Anyway, if nothing else, I save on shelf space.

Gaming

I specifically did NOT want to get any games for my iPad. I've got Nintendos and Playstations and my weekly Saw re-enactments to satiate my gaming jonesing...

But look at World of Goo! COME ON!

Music

I've not been much of a music collector, actually, but I'm starting to get into it again - usually on a song-by-song basis. I found an interesting dilemma, though - I tend to only listen to music when I drive, and I like to drive angry. I don't want to OWN any angry music, though, so I find I'm conflicted as to what I'd actually want to buy.

But it's like the old saying goes - "Have iTunes gift card, will buy lots of Kimbra."

Comics

No lie, folks - the comic book apps may be the primary reason I wanted an iThing. See, collecting comics is expensive, and digital comics are...slightly cheaper.

But digital comics also have Dusting Nguyen's Li'l Gotham series, and it's just ADORABLE.

This wasn't supposed to be an advertisement for the iPad, but that's kind of what it turned into. Sorry, but the iPad may very well have been my second-favorite gift I got this Christmas. After my brand-new cookbooks.

* - No, I didn't.

Poem of the Week

Nativity

By Li-Young Lee

In the dark, a child might ask, What is the world?
just to hear his sister
promise, An unfinished wing of heaven,
just to hear his brother say,
A house inside a house,
but most of all to hear his mother answer,
One more song, then you go to sleep.

How could anyone in that bed guess
the question finds its beginning
in the answer long growing
inside the one who asked, that restless boy,
the night's darling?

Later, a man lying awake,
he might ask it again,
just to hear the silence
charge him, This night
arching over your sleepless wondering,

this night, the near ground
every reaching-out-to overreaches,

just to remind himself
out of what little earth and duration,
out of what immense good-bye,

each must make a safe place of his heart,
before so strange and wild a guest
as God approaches.

***

Squint and it's sort of about Christmas.

Actually, as dense as this poem is, I find it really beautiful. The image of the child in the darkness is truly striking. And the description of God as a guest both "strange and wild" carris a certain beauty with it, as well.

Braddy Reads The Night Circus

I don’t think I’m much of a romantic.

Or maybe this just wasn’t that much of a romance.

Or maybe the main characters in romance novels are ^%#in’ IDIOTS.

Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus is one of the upcoming selections from my book club (and I’ve GOT to start taking these books at a slower pace). It’s billed as a romance novel, but there’s significantly more going on between these covers than a love story.

Was… was that a euphemism?

*ahem* So the story follows two young people who have been snared into some kind of magic competition by a couple of meddling old wizards. The terms of the duel are never really clearly stated, but the venue for the competition is pretty clearly established: each of the competitors makes subtle, but magnificent, adjustments to a traveling circus.

And, as so often happens, the competitors fall in love.

I don’t know why this particular couple bugged me so much. There are plenty of other romantic couples in fiction that are infinitely more annoying, but something about the way these two go about things just frustrates me. They wrap up a lot of innocent people in their duel and manage to ruin their lives pretty thoroughly. They even get a couple of people killed.

Oh, wait, they feel sorry for it in the end? Well, that makes it all better.

Well, now that I’m done kvetching, let me say that I actually LIKED this book quite a bit. Not a whole lot, but enough that I’m really glad I read it. It's kind of a terrible romance, but as a period fantasy, it's excellent. I mean, the setting is... Oh, the setting is really good.

See, Morgenstern’s got a knack for place description, and she sets up the circus BEAUTIFULLY. You can tell she was trying to craft a place of transcendental wonder, and she was trying really, really hard. And doggone it, she succeeded.

The Night Circus isn’t a book I plan on re-reading much, but I imagine I’ll crack open the pages a time or two to get a sense of what that wonderful circus is like. Les Cirque des Rêves really does wind up being a dreamlike place. Frankly, I want to re-read those sections a bit more, just to see how Morgenstern did it.

One last note (and maybe I’m the only person who thinks of this): There’s a scene where our two lovers consummate their relationship. At that moment, the narration states that, “though there are a great many fragile objects” in the room, “nothing breaks.” Now, there are completely legitimate reasons for pointing this out within the context of the novel. However, I can’t help but read that line as a sort of “take that” against the Twilight series, Breaking Dawn in particular.

Man, for someone who’s never read the series, I know WAY too much about Twilight.

Why I'm Still Single 48

I'm not saying romance novels are trash. I am saying, though, that the protagonists may be the most horribly selfish people I've ever read about in fiction.

Cooking With Braddy: Roasted Red Pepper and Italian Sausage Penne

It’s been a loooong while since I’ve set aside any time to do some cooking, and that’s a real shame, because I picked up a new recipe book a while back. A friend of mine works with some high school kids who were selling a Taste of the World cookbook. He vouched for the recipes, so I decided to pick up the book as well.

It’s all for the good of the kids, right?

So I took a picture of all the ingredients before I started cooking – as I usually do – but I think I went overboard. See, there’s cilantro in that picture above, which didn’t wind up going in this recipe, so really, I guess, the picture should look like this:

…or maybe like this:

$%@! Why do all green things have to look exactly the same?!?!

Anyway, so pasta’s not really my thing. Last time I tried to make a pasta dish, it ended pretty disastrously. Still, the recipe looked easy enough, and there wasn’t much sauce to work with, so I thought it’d be simple.

Simple? Well, I guess it was, but it still took me for-bloody-ever to put all this together. Cutting up six red bell peppers took nearly a half hour for some dang reason, and fresh thyme is a lot more difficult to work with than the dried stuff in the bottle.

Still, by the time I had all those herbs and such sautéing with the mushrooms, I could tell it would be worth it. Smelled delicious, I’ll tell you that.

I picked up the spicy Italian sausage by mistake. It wasn’t my first pick – I just didn’t look at the label closely enough. Even so, the final product?

VERY tasty.

Poem of the Week/Braddy Reads Love That Dog

Love That Dog

By Sharon Creech
Inspired by Walter Dean Myers

Love that dog,
like a bird loves to fly
I said I love that dog
like a bird loves to fly
Love to call him in the morning
love to call him
"Hey there, Sky!"

***

So I had a conversation with my teacher friend the other day regarding how to best teach students how to write poetry. The best I could tell her was to give her students good examples of poems and have them imitate the forms for their own writings.

After we finished our exchange, I remembered that I've seen that exact method used in a novel before. Specifically, this novel.

Although I have to say, calling Sharon Creech's Love That Dog a "novel" is is a bit of a stretch. The book's 86 pages long, and can be read in ten or fifteen minutes. The story's about Jack, a young boy just learning how to write poetry. As Through the process of writing poetry (not to mention reading great poems from Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, and Walter Dean Myers), Jack's poetry improves, and he is able to confront some personal issues as well.

Seriously, it's a twenty-minute read. I can't recommend it enough.

Caroling, Caroling

I haven't mentioned much what I've been doing this Christmastime. A few months ago, a (foxy and fabulous) friend of mine who has been affiliated with the Heritage Singers at This Is The Place Heritage Park posted on Facebook that their group needed a bass. Well, since I happen to be a bass, I thought I'd give it a go.

So, yeah, I'm participating in the Candlelight Christmas celebrations at This Is The Place. Honestly, it's one of the best Christmas things I've done in forever.

Back in my high school choir days, the Christmas season was my favorite because of the ridiculous number of performances we had. During the month of December, my choir wound up singing at something like 30 different venues. I loved it, and honestly Christmas just hasn't felt the same since then.

Now I get to walk around and sing Christmas songs three days a week. I've learned some new songs (a rendition of "Deck the Halls" in 7/8 time), some old standards (a version of "I'll Be Home For Christmas" that my senior choir dedicated to the families of the 9/11 victims), and... um... "Up on the Housetop."

Oh, and as an added bonus, I get to dress like this:

Hint: I'm the one on the left.

Anyway, if you get a chance (especially if you have little ones), come check out Candlelight Christmas this year. If you come on a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, you'll probably run into the dapper gentleman in the picture above (the one on the left). If you can only come Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday, come anyway. I hear the carolers those nights are both foxy and fabulous.

Vlasta Redl Gets Lost in Translation

So I speak Slovak.

Okay, so I don't speak Slovak well. But I useta did.

Okay, so maybe I never really spoke Slovak well. But I spoke Czech, and that's almost the same thing.

I served a mission for the LDS Church in the Czech Republic and Slovakia. I spent about six months in Bratislava (still one of my favorite places in the world), where my missionary companion picked up a CD of what we thought was some traditional folk music. We were both particularly captivated by a piece called "Bol raz jeden kráľ uhorský," and one day we decided to sit down and see if we could interpret the whole thing.

Now, at the best of times, I have difficulty understanding song lyrics. When they're in another language, then it's pretty much impossible. Heck, I heard the song "Dragostea din tei" (better known as "The Numa Numa Song" in a supermarket and thought it was in English.

Anyway, going into "Bol raz jeden kráľ uhorský," we had a pretty clear idea of what the song was about. The song (we thought) was about a little girl named Anička playing with her dolls. Her father comes in and tells her it's time for bed. Anička doesn't want to go to sleep, and so she cries the whole time while her father drags her to bed. She cries for about three verses, and then eventually falls asleep while her father sings her a lullaby.

Before we really tried to interpret the song, we were able to pick out the word panenka, which means "doll." There was also a line - "Choď Anička posteľ stlati" - which sounded an awful lot like a father telling his daughter to go to bed. So we felt pretty confident in our ability to figure out the rest of the song.

And... well, we were only kinda right.

See, the very first line - "Bol raz jeden kráľ uhorský / Ten podvodníček panenský" - revealed that this story had another character:

There once was a Hungarian king
A real deceiver of women.

Hoo-boy...

We already knew we had things wrong, so we looked up the word panenka again to find out what else it could mean.

And... um... it also means "virgins."

The line about the father telling Anička to go to bed, though, we got just right. The line AFTER that - "Bude s tebou pani spati" - means, "And this lady will go to bed with you."

Here's how the whole story unfolds:

A Hungarian king is able to have his way with all the ladies except Anička, the mayor's daughter. He goes to an old witch for advice, who instructs him to dress in women's clothes and go knock at the mayor's house. The mayor takes the disguised king in and sends him to tend his daughter...

From there, things get uncomfortable. Those three verses about Anička crying suddenly got a lot more sinister.

The final verse, which sounded an awful lot like a lullaby, was exactly that, except it was Anička singing to her son - the child she had after her night with the Hungarian king.

I don't know that we ever listened to that song again.

A Caroler's Christmas

Merry Christmas from 1890!

Confessions: Beard Bother

I swore I'd never be one of those guys, but I can't help it anymore: I'm kinda in love with my own beard.

Facial hair is pretty cool. It keeps your face warm in the winter and just makes you look like an all-round more rugged individual. However, as with most things, facial hair comes with its own irritations.

• Okay, yeah, so facial hair keeps you warm, but it also collects all that moisture you exhale, so you wind up with some nice lip-densation.
  
  Portmanteaus are hard


• Have you ever gotten your beard caught in a zipper? Mine's not even that long, and I still have problems.


• Turns out that moustaches are pretty good at catching things other than exhalations. I've taken to eating with a utensil in one hand and a napkin in the other, just to keep my face clean.


• Did you know that hair falls out? It's true. When facial hair falls out, it lands either (1)on your tongue, or (2) in your cereal bowl. Every time.


• It will never not be sweet to have a beard to stroke while thinking.

Poem of the Week

To A Small Boy Standing On My Shoes While I Am Wearing Them

By Ogden Nash

Let's straighten this out, my little man,
And reach an agreement if we can.
I entered your door as an honored guest.
My shoes are shined and my trousers are pressed,
And I won't stretch out and read you the funnies
And I won't pretend that we're Easter bunnies.
If you must get somebody down on the floor,
What in the hell are your parents for?
I do not like the things that you say
And I hate the games that you want to play.
No matter how frightfully hard you try,
We've little in common, you and I.
The interest I take in my neighbor's nursery
Would have to grow, to be even cursory,
And I would that performing sons and nephews
Were carted away with the daily refuse,
And I hold that frolicsome daughters and nieces
Are ample excuse for breaking leases.
You may take a sock at your daddy's tummy
Or climb all over your doting mummy,
But keep your attentions to me in check,
Or, sonny boy, I will wring your neck.
A happier man today I'd be
Had someone wrung it ahead of me.

***

Bet you didn't know I'm not a parent.

On a whim, I did a Google search for "To A Small Boy Standing On My Shoes." This was the first result.

Braddy's Favorite (Unconventional) Christmas Specials

When I was a kid, I always got super excited for Christmas time because of all the STUFF that got shown on TV. Every day, there were at least a half-dozen Christmas specials I tried to make time for. You probably know the list - classics like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Raindeer, Santa Clause is Coming to Town, A Year Without a Santa Clause, and a bunch of other "not quite as good as Claymation" shows.

As an adult... I don't like 'em.

That's not to say I don't like any of the classic Christmas specials - I quite enjoy White Christmas and, despite its (many) failings, the musical adaptation of Scrooge manages to bring a tear to my eye. Most of the standard Christmas fair, though, leaves me feeling a bit unfulfilled, like a kid who didn't get his Red Rider BB Gun on Christmas morning.

Thankfully, with the plethora of Christmas specials out there, there's always something, perhaps just off the beaten path, that helps me to get in that Christmas spirit. Maybe there's something wrong with me, I dunno, but I think I like some of these better... even if they have almost nothing to do with the true meaning of Christmas.

Here are my favorite "B side" holiday specials.

"Donald's Snow Fight"

Really, this is more of a "winter" special than a true "Christmas" special, but that doesn't make it any less awesome. Donald and his nephews get in an ever escalating snow fight, starting with the usual snowballs, and ending with mousetraps, ice missles, and... um... fire arrows? It's a lot of fun, and, like a lot of the classic Disney shorts, it holds up well.

Doctor Who, "A Christmas Carol"

The Doctor takes on the role of the Ghosts of Christmas in an attempt to change the heart of a miserly old man. There's a lot of time travel, space ships, and the usual Doctor goofiness. Oh, and there's also some absolutely lovely Christmas music. Really, I think this is quite heartwarming.

The Office, "Christmas Party"

No, seriously - I kinda tear up at this episode of The Office. The awkward comedy is still present ("YAANKEEE Swap!"), but there's a lot of genuine Christmasy spirit here - especially in the Jim/Pam story arc. The Office did a few Christmas specials, but I think the first one got it best.

Hellboy, "A Christmas Underground"

There's a fun little redemption plot that runs through this story, where a woman is actually saved from eternal torment because of a gift from her mother. The same old woman also mistakes Hellboy for Santa Clause, though. That's pretty funny.

Detective Comics #826, "Slayride"

One of my favorite Joker stories ever, and a surprisingly excellent story for Robin, as well (who's not as lame as everyone says he is). The Joker kidnaps Robin, ties him up with Christmas lights, and then drives around town running people over. Robin manages to escape by starting up a conversation about the Marx Brothers.

You know, because Christmas.

What? You expected EVERYTHING to be all "Peace on Earth" and stuff? Man, if you want that, maybe you should, like, read your Bible or someth... Oh, wait.

Out Of The Frying Pan, Aim For The Stars

My Christmas bonus came in my paycheck on Friday morning. That meant that Friday evening was a good day to spend said bonus. I had some extra Christmas shopping to do, so I went to Barnes and Noble. And then I thought, “Well, while I’m here… I might as well pick up something for myself, as well.”

Cuz I’ve been a good boy this year, too.

I went to the cookbook section and found The Flavor Bible by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg. It’s not a cookbook as much as a cooking reference – almost a cooking thesaurus, in fact. The idea is that you look up one ingredient, and see what flavors the thirty or so top-tier American chefs interviewed for the book would recommend adding to that ingredient.

The book is really for a cook well beyond my skill level, but my imagination sure got fired up. I’mma try at some point to develop a recipe for a yogurt, vanilla, and pistachio chicken. You know, eventually.

Even though I don’t expect to get much use out of the reference part of The Flavor Bible (yet), I thoroughly enjoyed reading the introductory section of the book. I relished how lovingly the authors describe the art of cooking. Sure, the talk of food got me hungry, but, more than that, I relished the way the authors and chefs described cooking as a creative, artistic experience.

I'm gonna guess, though, that the book's writers would probably cringe at the sight of me eating Cheese-Its while reading.

Braddy Reads Unbroken

The book club I meet with isn’t reading anything for December, so I started on January’s book a bit early. And I fully expected to take the whole month and a half to finish it. After all, I simply don’t care much for biographies. I also don’t much like sports or war stories. So when January’s book (Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken) tells the true life story of Olympic runner and World War II veteran Louie Zamperini, I expected to be bored to tears.

The first hundred pages felt like they took forever to read. The story follows young Louie through his troubled childhood. It traces his journey to the 1936 Olympics and all the records that he broke along the way. Louie’s hopes of winning the gold in 1940 were shattered by the start of World War II. He joined the Army Air Force and trained to be a bomber. On a rescue mission, his plane failed, and Louie and two other men found themselves adrift in the Pacific Ocean. They remained on the raft for over a month, catching birds to use as bait for fishing. While out on the ocean, the three men were attacked by a Japanese plane. Louie dove over the side of the raft to avoid getting shot, and he found he had to defend himself against ravenous sharks. He gritted his teeth, balled up his fists, and swung, and then…

WHEN THE HECK DID I START LIKING THIS BOOK?

Somewhere along the line, Hillenbrand hooked me in. The first 100 pages took me about two days. I finished the remaining 300 pages in another two days of non-stop reading.

It would be enough if the book was just a good adventure, but Hillenbrand extrapolates some fascinating morality from Zamperini’s story. She discusses at length how Zamperini’s “dignity” carried him through all his adversity. She makes a strong connection between a person’s dignity and their will to survive. It’s a fascinating subject to think on, and I found it well worth reading through Unbroken just for that.

Altough I think the book really should have been titled Sharkpuncher.

But Mom, It's Art Now!

The Museum of Modern Art recently announced that they will be adding a selection of video games to their collection. This would seem to counteract the most vocal critics of video games, who claim that such frivolous products could never be considered art (I attempted to link to a particularly prominent example, but every time I tried to find a specific article, my browser crashed). I'm a pretty passive gamer myself - although I do concede that recently I've been playing a lot more than I frankly should be. Still, I thought I'd take a look at the list, just to see if I have any thoughts on these games.

Cuz, you know, I thought it would be possible that I not have an opinion on something.

vib-ribbon

Umm... is this a game or a 9th grade geometry tool?

Passage

At least this one looks like a video game.

Dwarf Fortress

That... sure is a lot of squiggles.

Canabalt

Seriously, I haven't heard of a lot of these.

Another World

I... don't know what I'm looking at.

Pac-Man

Well, finally!

I don't know that I'd call Pac-Man art. It certainly inspired art, but, other than being a cultural phenomenon, I don't know that there's much substance to it.

Now, Ms. Pac-Man is another matter altogether.

Tetris

"Tetris Effect" describes a condition where a person spends so much time absorbed in an activity that they begin to visualize that activity while their eyes are closed. It's especially prominent when people play Tetris or similar games right before going to sleep. "Tetris Effect" is about the worst thing ever.

Myst

I remember this game was a pretty big deal back in the days of CD-ROM. I remember that the story had something to do with creating new worlds by writing about them, which is a concept that I'd probably find even more appealing now.

I also remember that, if you know how to beat the game, you can finish it in, like, thirty seconds, which is kinda lame.

SimCity 2000

I played Sim City once. I remember thinking I'd have just as much fun playing around in MS Paint. Of course, some of us manage to have more fun with MS Paint than others.

I don't really have strong opinions about SimCity. The Sims is another matter entirely...

The Sims

Well, okay then.

I played The Sims once back when I was in college. Actually, I think it was The Sims 2. My Sim was a university student. He studied English and had good grades and a girlfriend. That last point made him more successful than me. I stopped playing.

Katamari Damacy

Now, this is an evocative game. I felt a real surge of emotion when playing Katamari Damacy.

Well, provided that "What the ffff...?" counts as an emotion.

EVE Online

EVE Online is what we call a MMORPG (pronounced "memoporgah). I don't play MMORPGs, because I don't like spending that much time online. All I know about EVE Online is that it's played host to some of the most ridiculously cruel online pranks ever.

Portal

Portal is in the running for "Best Game of All Time" (and comes pretty close to actually leading the pack on my list). It's got clever writing, subtle yet effective storytelling, and fantastic gameplay.

Also, there's something about lying... and a cake... or something.

flOw

I've not played flOw, but I played Flower, which is a game by the same company. Super pretty game, that one. flOw is probably good, too.

Batman: Arkham Asylum

JUST kidding. I'm the only one who thinks this game should be in the museum. For being AWESOME!