Well, I promised a book review. It's of a teenage romance novel that takes place in a futuristic dystopia; sadly, I haven't finished it yet.
I'm also a day late, but lucky for me, occasionally tardiness does have it benefits. Most of this post is based on some VERY interesting information I came across in a Review-Journal that was laying around in the auto shop. This "news" is actually about a week old. Anyone who watches the nightly news is already informed of these things, all of which blew my tired little car-problem-addled mind.
First of all, the Moapa band of Southern Paiutes has made a deal with the city of Los Angeles to let them rent land for a solar farm. This means that the Paiutes will be selling solar power to L.A. as early as 2016. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you can read about it here. This is momentous. Did I already use the word momentous? Somebody besides me must have read Suzanne Weyn's teenage novel, Empty.
REVISION!!!
I nearly forgot about this video featuring my Wittenberg sorority sister's daughter and her classmates.
Secondly (that's right, there's more), MEXICO has decided to rent Lake Mead for water storage and to therefore GIVE UP part of its rights to the Colorado River! WHAT??? This long but super-delicious story includes a MAP (map! map!) of the water allotments for the seven areas that split the water from the Colorado for hydration and power. *drool* The agreement is only good for five years, but it's a major step toward fairer use of what is arguably the planet's most important resource. At least, it's the planet's most important resource when you live in the desert.
AND THEN!
Finally...the selfsame issue of the RJ handed me the following transition, which otherwise could have been horribly awkward, on a silver platter with this opinion piece about the Twinkie. Yeah, yeah. But this opinion piece is actually awesome. My favorite part is: "Flags in the schoolyards of childhood memory immediately were lowered to half-staff." Well said, John L. Smith. Well said.
The day of the 2012 Hostess debacle or the next day, Sue Phipps linked this video clip on facebook. It's from Zombieland, a movie I had never seen. Sue, and her sister Kristy, spoke so highly of Zombieland at the delicious Thanksgiving dinner that they cooked, that I just had to see it. I now own it, love it, will keep it forever and HIGHLY, HIGHLY recommend it if, like me, you are late to the party.
Twinkies are a recurring theme in Zombieland.
I had to stop on my way to the movie clip to watch a Miles Jai fanmail video. Beware profanity. We love Miles Jai.
So, that's that. Next time, All These Things I've Done, which I read about on the now-defunct but still archived Book Envy blog. The fact that the blog is archived means that I'm late once again when it comes to reading this novel. I think I'll skip tomorrow, my regular updating day, and then return you to your regularly-scheduled Apocalypse Blog next week.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Possibly the Last Thanksgiving Ever
I did not participate in facebook's annual "30 Days of Thankfulness" movement or whatever it is, and it occurred to me earlier today that it may have in fact been my last opportunity to do so. Here, then, is my attempt to make up for all 30 days by listing anything that I have been thankful for, pretty much ever. This would have been a much easier task if I'd had 30 days to think about it instead of just one. Be that as it may, here we go. In no particular order.
This list will become comprehensive if you add to it the following thought: if you yourself have ever enjoyed any of these things, with me or without me, then you are included in my thankfulness, and I am thankful for you, too.
1. the greater Chicagoland area
2. the loving, stable home where I was raised, which was filled for my benefit with comfort objects and school supplies
3. French: language, literature, cinema, braids, fries and kisses
4. the interstate highway system
5. the back roads
6. planes, trains and automobiles, especially Subarus
7. corn fields
8. museums
9. libraries
10. school, and school breaks
11. Springfield, OH and Bloomington, IN
12. salaried jobs
13. national parks
13.5 bear lockers in which to store things that smell good
14. Twentynine Palms, CA and the uppity Joshua Trees
15. a roof, under which there are working utilities
15.5 a beautiful, motley collection of people I know would help keep me in #15
16. food: slow, fast, homegrown, store-bought, American, ethnic
17. soothing sounds that come out of acoustic guitars
18. other people's children, and the fact that they are other people's
19. blank pages, and filled pages
20. I'm just gonna go ahead and say it: vodka.
21. TWE, graphic organizers, reproducibles, templates, and everything else that makes my job easier
22. cascading reel slot machines
23. the postal service
24. the military-industrial complex
25. wireless internet, because it enables me to stalk you quite effectively
26. the Sierra Nevadas, and pretty much all other mountains
27. sparkly things
28. the $5 billion zombie apocalypse industry
29. enough time, energy, and money to be able to do THIS twice a week (more or less)
30. pine trees, especially bristlecones and pinyons
Also: I'm thankful for three days to recover from the inevitable bodily backlash that will come from my having eaten some things I don't normally eat during today's Celebration of Genocide feast. If it's to be the last one, then darnit, I'm doing it right.
Oops! I forgot to mention those years in North Manchester on my list of things I'm thankful for. This song should cover it.
Happy Thanksgiving.
This list will become comprehensive if you add to it the following thought: if you yourself have ever enjoyed any of these things, with me or without me, then you are included in my thankfulness, and I am thankful for you, too.
1. the greater Chicagoland area
2. the loving, stable home where I was raised, which was filled for my benefit with comfort objects and school supplies
3. French: language, literature, cinema, braids, fries and kisses
4. the interstate highway system
5. the back roads
6. planes, trains and automobiles, especially Subarus
7. corn fields
8. museums
9. libraries
10. school, and school breaks
11. Springfield, OH and Bloomington, IN
12. salaried jobs
13. national parks
13.5 bear lockers in which to store things that smell good
14. Twentynine Palms, CA and the uppity Joshua Trees
15. a roof, under which there are working utilities
15.5 a beautiful, motley collection of people I know would help keep me in #15
16. food: slow, fast, homegrown, store-bought, American, ethnic
17. soothing sounds that come out of acoustic guitars
18. other people's children, and the fact that they are other people's
19. blank pages, and filled pages
20. I'm just gonna go ahead and say it: vodka.
21. TWE, graphic organizers, reproducibles, templates, and everything else that makes my job easier
22. cascading reel slot machines
23. the postal service
24. the military-industrial complex
25. wireless internet, because it enables me to stalk you quite effectively
26. the Sierra Nevadas, and pretty much all other mountains
27. sparkly things
28. the $5 billion zombie apocalypse industry
29. enough time, energy, and money to be able to do THIS twice a week (more or less)
30. pine trees, especially bristlecones and pinyons
Also: I'm thankful for three days to recover from the inevitable bodily backlash that will come from my having eaten some things I don't normally eat during today's Celebration of Genocide feast. If it's to be the last one, then darnit, I'm doing it right.
Oops! I forgot to mention those years in North Manchester on my list of things I'm thankful for. This song should cover it.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
So close you can almost taste it...
...or so it would seem, what with my closest teaching neighbor constantly blathering about the dead bird that he soon intends to eat!
I'm just gonna say it once, because it's true, and then I'll drop it for the duration of the world's existence:
I am supposed to be in Peru right now, but I am not.
Lucky for us, Peru is still populated with tourists, and you can read about my friend's adventures there here, where she compare/contrasts independent and group travel. I have a preferred side of that fence, and I am hoping that by the end of her trip, she will be converted completely to my side. Let's keep tabs on her movements in Latin America.
Two more notes before we get down to business, both dealing with your Greater Chicagoland media. Please join me in impatient anticipation of Shiloh's new album by perusing this lite blurb in the Chicago Reader dealing with the record release which we will never get to experience due to pandemic/cataclysm/megaquake/polar reversal. Please ignore the bit about the puppets, and go to the Empty Bottle because I myself cannot, seeing as I have to teach the very next day in North Las Vegas.
And then, from our friends at the NWI Times via my dad:
Sometime over Fall Break, while riding through the corn fields having a fabulous time, I think I heard this song, which may be content-blocked for copyright reasons when you click on it, on a radio station that my clever friends tell their 10-year-old is Radio Disney.
Immediately, I knew that I would watch Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. And take notes. Here's the plot synopsis in case you forgot what an awesome year 1985 actually was.
(A saxophone will come in handy after nuclear annihilation.)
Max (12-year-old Mel Gibson with luxurious hair) wanders into Bartertown to retrieve his stolen car and makes a bad deal with Queen Tina Turner. At the last moment, he refuses to kill his opponent in the Thunderdome and is sentenced to gulag (ohhh, the 80s!). Halfway there, his horse collapses and is swallowed in a sandstorm, at which point he is rescued by his helper monkey.
He eventually collapses but is once again rescued, this time by a mysterious stranger who turns out to represent some happy people who live in the Narrows at Zion (though the movie was actually filmed in Australia). This canyon is filled with horribly noisy children and others who all believe that Max is their messiah. He handily destroys their worldview.
He punches a woman in the face and for some reason isn't immediately killed.
Of course she runs away anyway and a cohort of happies ends up back in Bartertown. They kidnap Bartertown's brain-person and the inevitable showdown in the middle of the desert ensues.
The good guys win, but Max ends up wandering around in the desert, and whose baby is that?
There you have it. You may now skip watching it, and you may thank me now or later. However, I recommend that you review it because Tina Turner will always be hott. Of course, I was looking forward to the appearance of Grace Jones at the end of the movie, but apparently I was confused, as she never showed up. I don't think I've ever seen Conan the Destroyer, nor do I think I ever want to, so I don't know what kind of short-circuit happened in my brain on that one. :/
This has been a movie review.
After I review the Last Thanksgiving Ever coming up before week's end, it will be time to turn my attention once again to young adult fiction.
This weekend is historically the busiest travel weekend in America. Be safe out there: make sure your apocalypse doesn't happen sooner than it has to.
I'm just gonna say it once, because it's true, and then I'll drop it for the duration of the world's existence:
I am supposed to be in Peru right now, but I am not.
Lucky for us, Peru is still populated with tourists, and you can read about my friend's adventures there here, where she compare/contrasts independent and group travel. I have a preferred side of that fence, and I am hoping that by the end of her trip, she will be converted completely to my side. Let's keep tabs on her movements in Latin America.
Two more notes before we get down to business, both dealing with your Greater Chicagoland media. Please join me in impatient anticipation of Shiloh's new album by perusing this lite blurb in the Chicago Reader dealing with the record release which we will never get to experience due to pandemic/cataclysm/megaquake/polar reversal. Please ignore the bit about the puppets, and go to the Empty Bottle because I myself cannot, seeing as I have to teach the very next day in North Las Vegas.
And then, from our friends at the NWI Times via my dad:
Sometime over Fall Break, while riding through the corn fields having a fabulous time, I think I heard this song, which may be content-blocked for copyright reasons when you click on it, on a radio station that my clever friends tell their 10-year-old is Radio Disney.
Immediately, I knew that I would watch Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. And take notes. Here's the plot synopsis in case you forgot what an awesome year 1985 actually was.
(A saxophone will come in handy after nuclear annihilation.)
Max (12-year-old Mel Gibson with luxurious hair) wanders into Bartertown to retrieve his stolen car and makes a bad deal with Queen Tina Turner. At the last moment, he refuses to kill his opponent in the Thunderdome and is sentenced to gulag (ohhh, the 80s!). Halfway there, his horse collapses and is swallowed in a sandstorm, at which point he is rescued by his helper monkey.
He eventually collapses but is once again rescued, this time by a mysterious stranger who turns out to represent some happy people who live in the Narrows at Zion (though the movie was actually filmed in Australia). This canyon is filled with horribly noisy children and others who all believe that Max is their messiah. He handily destroys their worldview.
He punches a woman in the face and for some reason isn't immediately killed.
Of course she runs away anyway and a cohort of happies ends up back in Bartertown. They kidnap Bartertown's brain-person and the inevitable showdown in the middle of the desert ensues.
The good guys win, but Max ends up wandering around in the desert, and whose baby is that?
There you have it. You may now skip watching it, and you may thank me now or later. However, I recommend that you review it because Tina Turner will always be hott. Of course, I was looking forward to the appearance of Grace Jones at the end of the movie, but apparently I was confused, as she never showed up. I don't think I've ever seen Conan the Destroyer, nor do I think I ever want to, so I don't know what kind of short-circuit happened in my brain on that one. :/
This has been a movie review.
After I review the Last Thanksgiving Ever coming up before week's end, it will be time to turn my attention once again to young adult fiction.
This weekend is historically the busiest travel weekend in America. Be safe out there: make sure your apocalypse doesn't happen sooner than it has to.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
The Four Horsemen of Vegaspocalypse
1. A sign on Craig Rd. reading, "Were gonna miss u juicy." Ugh. Functional literacy must be SO overrated.
2. The Great Internet Streaming Fail 2012.
3. The devastatingly handsome pizza delivery boy was sleepily slurring his speech tonight.
4. Southern Nevada will get a new area code in 2014.
Aside from all that, the Wedding at the End of the World was a splendid bacchanalia of debauchery. Check facebook for photos in the coming months. The happy honeymooners are hanging out here, in advance of the world blowing up:
Consider that a mental health moment.
Every time I passenge (I suppose the correct word is "pass") through rural Indiana, I am blown away. Mostly because of the impressive collections of gigantic windmills that interrupt the tranquil flatness of the horizon. I gasp and squeal and am seized with delight. And then we ride past the inevitable giant banner that says, "Pray and fast to end abortion," or "No mask can hide your sin from God," and I remember that I'm in the middle of fire and brimstone.
Yesterday I received this image from the bride:
and I think that explains a lot. It says, "Hell and destruction are never full, so the eyes of man are never satisfied."
Neither are the eyes of children with Christmas toy catalogs in their paws. Now that we pulled off the wedding (or, as Beth's girls would say, "rocked it!"), and Peru is canceled...'tis the season. The million dollar question is: should we bother buying Christmas gifts? I mean, given the Pandemic that's trending on the Doomsday Dashboard, what's the point?
In the spirit of full disclosure, I went ahead and booked my Winter Break ticket. I believe in keeping all of my options as open as possible. More about that on Tuesday.
This short (happy Veteran's Day!) week has gone by crash-boom-bang, and I have an appointment with favorite pajamas. I'm going to turn myself into a zombie of the screen variety and save my pandemic/economic crisis/2012 cataclysm worries for another evening.
2. The Great Internet Streaming Fail 2012.
3. The devastatingly handsome pizza delivery boy was sleepily slurring his speech tonight.
4. Southern Nevada will get a new area code in 2014.
Aside from all that, the Wedding at the End of the World was a splendid bacchanalia of debauchery. Check facebook for photos in the coming months. The happy honeymooners are hanging out here, in advance of the world blowing up:
Consider that a mental health moment.
Every time I passenge (I suppose the correct word is "pass") through rural Indiana, I am blown away. Mostly because of the impressive collections of gigantic windmills that interrupt the tranquil flatness of the horizon. I gasp and squeal and am seized with delight. And then we ride past the inevitable giant banner that says, "Pray and fast to end abortion," or "No mask can hide your sin from God," and I remember that I'm in the middle of fire and brimstone.
Yesterday I received this image from the bride:
and I think that explains a lot. It says, "Hell and destruction are never full, so the eyes of man are never satisfied."
Neither are the eyes of children with Christmas toy catalogs in their paws. Now that we pulled off the wedding (or, as Beth's girls would say, "rocked it!"), and Peru is canceled...'tis the season. The million dollar question is: should we bother buying Christmas gifts? I mean, given the Pandemic that's trending on the Doomsday Dashboard, what's the point?
In the spirit of full disclosure, I went ahead and booked my Winter Break ticket. I believe in keeping all of my options as open as possible. More about that on Tuesday.
This short (happy Veteran's Day!) week has gone by crash-boom-bang, and I have an appointment with favorite pajamas. I'm going to turn myself into a zombie of the screen variety and save my pandemic/economic crisis/2012 cataclysm worries for another evening.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Election Apocalypse?
Nah.
Sadly, again with the Jakob Dylan...I can't find a downloadable electoral map anywhere online that I can rip off and glue here.
I was sharing with my students today how I remember the election of 2000 and staying up until 2 a.m. in a hotel room in the rural underbelly of one of the Midwestern states. My coworker and I, being wherever we were for a regional conference, finally fell asleep and waited until the next day to find out that Al Gore had conceded the election to GWB. I was shocked at how quickly it was over last night. I mostly avoided the hype out of a desire to soak up the apocalypse as completely as possible, but I did watch various coverages of the election returns on the youtube election hub. And yes. I, too, enjoyed Diane Sawyer's display.
Many thanks to a faraway cousin of mine for posting the following as his facebook status:
"All of this political griping is ridiculous! Did you all forget the world is ending next month!"
And that's how I've been feeling about the whole election. Of course, I'm an issue voter and I have issues, so my decision was made a long time ago.
Too bad about the map. I did find something else to rip off and glue:
During Halloween staycation in North Las Vegas (during which, I must say, there were a gaggle of ghouls of the "terminally cute" variety!), I caught just a glimpse of Doomsday Preppers on the National Geographic channel. Although I have mentioned it in this blog before, lamenting that I cannot watch it, but following the Doomsday Dashboard with wild abandon...the best part was making fun of the preppers with Miss Gokey.
Interesting that mega-earthquakes are only trending at 15% on the Dashboard tonight, given that the Guatemalan president has announced 48 deaths resulting from the 7-and-a-half quake that hit San Marcos today.
Speaking of Halloween, Jodi sent me an interesting article about a real-life military training exercise which was of course in the beautiful locale of San Diego. Apparently, the soldiers and sailors took part in a zombie apocalypse exercise. The president of the Halo, Corp. security company that was running the exercise (sounds a little bit Resident Evil, no? Umbrella Corporation, anyone?) said that news of the simulated zombie invasion, useful because in many ways zombie actions replicate terrorist actions (zombies are terrorists!), invited calls from "whackjobs." Haha. You can read about it here.
That's about all I can say about the end of the world tonight. I have a lot of work to do that has nothing to do with apocalypse skills and everything to do with teaching strategies and the manipulation of the minds of little ones. By little, of course, I mean 14 years old.
I *do* have this, courtesy of the Northwest Indiana Times via my dad:
Creepy, huh? Don't worry, there's more where this one comes from.
Keep me apprised of any new developments in your own preparations, and I'll do the same.
Sadly, again with the Jakob Dylan...I can't find a downloadable electoral map anywhere online that I can rip off and glue here.
I was sharing with my students today how I remember the election of 2000 and staying up until 2 a.m. in a hotel room in the rural underbelly of one of the Midwestern states. My coworker and I, being wherever we were for a regional conference, finally fell asleep and waited until the next day to find out that Al Gore had conceded the election to GWB. I was shocked at how quickly it was over last night. I mostly avoided the hype out of a desire to soak up the apocalypse as completely as possible, but I did watch various coverages of the election returns on the youtube election hub. And yes. I, too, enjoyed Diane Sawyer's display.
Many thanks to a faraway cousin of mine for posting the following as his facebook status:
"All of this political griping is ridiculous! Did you all forget the world is ending next month!"
And that's how I've been feeling about the whole election. Of course, I'm an issue voter and I have issues, so my decision was made a long time ago.
Too bad about the map. I did find something else to rip off and glue:
Interesting that mega-earthquakes are only trending at 15% on the Dashboard tonight, given that the Guatemalan president has announced 48 deaths resulting from the 7-and-a-half quake that hit San Marcos today.
Speaking of Halloween, Jodi sent me an interesting article about a real-life military training exercise which was of course in the beautiful locale of San Diego. Apparently, the soldiers and sailors took part in a zombie apocalypse exercise. The president of the Halo, Corp. security company that was running the exercise (sounds a little bit Resident Evil, no? Umbrella Corporation, anyone?) said that news of the simulated zombie invasion, useful because in many ways zombie actions replicate terrorist actions (zombies are terrorists!), invited calls from "whackjobs." Haha. You can read about it here.
That's about all I can say about the end of the world tonight. I have a lot of work to do that has nothing to do with apocalypse skills and everything to do with teaching strategies and the manipulation of the minds of little ones. By little, of course, I mean 14 years old.
I *do* have this, courtesy of the Northwest Indiana Times via my dad:
Creepy, huh? Don't worry, there's more where this one comes from.
Keep me apprised of any new developments in your own preparations, and I'll do the same.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Don Quixote says, "alea iacta est."
Just now, I peeled myself up from the awesome leather couch and began crossing toward the Marco's pizza box when Miss Gokey happened upon me and noticed that I was gasping and crying.
That's right, kids. I just finished re-reading Going Bovine.
I have received quite a bit of submission fodder in e- and regular mail, but since I'm here enjoying a staycation in a gated neighborhood in North Las Vegas, and the submission fodder is on the east side where I live, it will have to wait, and I will have a built-in post for Tuesday. Until then, my five loyal readers have to deal with a series of text messages I received today along with my weird literary grief.
Although one text message in the series I read at lunchtime eloquently enumerated items that the sender hated at that moment in time, it was an "I hate everything" message. We all have our days. My previously mentioned "heterosexual life partner" says, "You can never go home again." Sometimes the die is cast, and we must trust when we look in the mirror that we are where we need to be to learn whatever lesson we need to learn. As I read the message, I came to the conclusion that it's not about the boss, and it's really not about the clients, either. It's about me. It's about each of us. What can *I* learn today?
I understand:
When it comes to reading materials, tastes are highly personal. I would hate to love Going Bovine as passionately as I do, and then suggest it to you only for you to hate it as much as I love it.
With so many brilliant minds out there composing new art for us to consume, why return to an old favorite?
A second reading of a favorite book always teaches a different lesson than reading #1.
Although...I'm fairly sure I've liberally quoted these exact same words from Libba Bray at some previous point in time. Read it now with an "apocalypse" flavor.
"Maybe there's a heaven, like they say, a place where everything we've ever done is noted and recorded, weighed on the big karma scales. Maybe not. Maybe this whole thing is just a giant experiment run by aliens who find our human hijinks amusing. Or maybe we're an abandoned project started by a deity who checked out a long time ago, but we're still hard-wired to believe, to try to make meaning out of the seemingly random. Maybe we're all part of the same unconscious stew, dreaming the same dreams, hoping the same hopes, needing the same connection, trying to find it, missing, trying again - each of us playing our parts in the others' plotlines, just one big ball of human yarn tangled up together..."
November is National Novel Writing Month. May it produce for someone, somewhere, another Cameron Smith on whose journey we can ride along. It may be the last National Novel Writing Month ever. So...if you've ever wanted to write a novel, tonight is a good time to get started by typing your first 2,000 words. 2,000 words a day will earn you a "finished" badge, which is something that I've never gotten. November is, after all, smack in the middle of the confusion of quarter 2 on the front lines of public education in America.
Now, after all of this re-visiting, it's time to kick it into gear. I have a kit to prepare for the girl who hates everything (at least for a moment in time). This is because, in the words of some nonfiction writer whose books I've never read (named Ian Frazier), "Every once in a while, people need to be in the presence of things that are really far away."
FREE THE SNOW GLOBES.
That's right, kids. I just finished re-reading Going Bovine.
I have received quite a bit of submission fodder in e- and regular mail, but since I'm here enjoying a staycation in a gated neighborhood in North Las Vegas, and the submission fodder is on the east side where I live, it will have to wait, and I will have a built-in post for Tuesday. Until then, my five loyal readers have to deal with a series of text messages I received today along with my weird literary grief.
Although one text message in the series I read at lunchtime eloquently enumerated items that the sender hated at that moment in time, it was an "I hate everything" message. We all have our days. My previously mentioned "heterosexual life partner" says, "You can never go home again." Sometimes the die is cast, and we must trust when we look in the mirror that we are where we need to be to learn whatever lesson we need to learn. As I read the message, I came to the conclusion that it's not about the boss, and it's really not about the clients, either. It's about me. It's about each of us. What can *I* learn today?
I understand:
When it comes to reading materials, tastes are highly personal. I would hate to love Going Bovine as passionately as I do, and then suggest it to you only for you to hate it as much as I love it.
With so many brilliant minds out there composing new art for us to consume, why return to an old favorite?
A second reading of a favorite book always teaches a different lesson than reading #1.
Although...I'm fairly sure I've liberally quoted these exact same words from Libba Bray at some previous point in time. Read it now with an "apocalypse" flavor.
"Maybe there's a heaven, like they say, a place where everything we've ever done is noted and recorded, weighed on the big karma scales. Maybe not. Maybe this whole thing is just a giant experiment run by aliens who find our human hijinks amusing. Or maybe we're an abandoned project started by a deity who checked out a long time ago, but we're still hard-wired to believe, to try to make meaning out of the seemingly random. Maybe we're all part of the same unconscious stew, dreaming the same dreams, hoping the same hopes, needing the same connection, trying to find it, missing, trying again - each of us playing our parts in the others' plotlines, just one big ball of human yarn tangled up together..."
November is National Novel Writing Month. May it produce for someone, somewhere, another Cameron Smith on whose journey we can ride along. It may be the last National Novel Writing Month ever. So...if you've ever wanted to write a novel, tonight is a good time to get started by typing your first 2,000 words. 2,000 words a day will earn you a "finished" badge, which is something that I've never gotten. November is, after all, smack in the middle of the confusion of quarter 2 on the front lines of public education in America.
Now, after all of this re-visiting, it's time to kick it into gear. I have a kit to prepare for the girl who hates everything (at least for a moment in time). This is because, in the words of some nonfiction writer whose books I've never read (named Ian Frazier), "Every once in a while, people need to be in the presence of things that are really far away."
FREE THE SNOW GLOBES.
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