The Emperor of Mars: Best Novelette?

“The Emperor of Mars” is the third of five novelettes up for a Hugo. It's about a guy who reads a lot of science fiction and then goes insane. (Unlike me, who has gone insane and begun to read science fiction.)

That's not a joke. (Other than the part in parentheses. Probably.) This Martian colonist reads old scifi stories about Mars and begins to think it's real, eventually believing himself to be the Emperor of Mars. It was weird to read a science fiction story that takes place on Mars about a guy who reads science fiction stories that take place on Mars. If you really want your mind to be blown, consider this: what are you reading right now?




But enough about the stories that this story isn't. “Mars” begins with a horrible tragedy and ends with a surprisingly uplifting and emotional conclusion. It's kind of like reading Romeo and Juliet backwards.
Additionally, the story makes you want to go google NASA's Mars Lander missions. I'd say it's a good mark of success for a science fiction story when it makes you curious about science fact.

“Mars” has the curious position of being able to address its own genre within itself, asking some interesting questions. Did we lose something when our views of Mars became less fantastical and more scientific? Is science fiction a harmful escape from life, or a helpful one? And why hasn't anybody found Marvin the Martian? Did Bugs Bunny ever really land on Mars, or was that a Loony Toons conspiracy?

I'm generally not a fan of meta-things: news stories about journalists, fiction about fiction writers, plays about putting on plays, and so forth. It just always seems a little incestuous to me. But it didn't feel gimmicky at all in this case. Because of how tragic the character was, you're not distracted by references to classic science fiction stories – you're too busy wondering with all your might what's going to happen to this guy.

There's an interesting moment as you're reading where you think, “That poor guy. Doesn't he know that science fiction is just a story?” And then you realize what you're reading. What's your response at this point? It's not very many novelettes that successfully ask the reader to confront the fact that they're reading. I should know; I've read a lot of novelettes. Multiples of three of them.

Unfortunately, this story has one enormous flaw, and that is a lack of robots. This was deliberate – you might even say that this is a story about its own lack of robots. However, that is little excuse, and I have to give this story a Robot Rating of zero robots.

Read the first portion of Allen Steele's novelette, "The Emperor of Mars," here, and listen to an entire audio narration here.

baby shower!

On Saturday, some darling dear friends threw me a surprise baby shower. It was awesome!

I was very impressed that they managed to keep it a secret. In retrospect, I really should have known, but I just didn't catch on. I was told that it was a Young Women's Board meeting for church--something that didn't make a lot of sense to me, since half of the board is moving out by July and we'll need to reorganize basically any second now. But I didn't question it.

I was running a little late for the "meeting," and the YW President called to see where I was. It was five minutes before the meeting was set to start, and I could hear people talking in the background. "Man, everyone is so much more punctual than I am," I thought, as I assured the YWP that I would be there ASAP.

Then I got there, walked in, noticed that there were no shoes by the door, and that there was a table full of refreshments in the dining room, and got confused, and then noticed that all these people were in the other room--people who were not on the board. I think they yelled "SURPRISE!" at that point, which was probably the thing that tipped me off to what was going on. I was very surprised!

The Beehives (the girls aged 12-13) sponsored a game where everyone got a ring to wear. If you said the word "baby" you lost your ring.

Of course, my BFF Christina started saying some alternatives we could use: infant, newborn.

"Rock on, baby!" I said, and promptly lost my ring, despite the use of the word "baby" in a completely different context.

The MIA Maids (ages 14-15) sponsored a game where we looked at unlabeled baby food and had to guess the flavors. There was mashed pear, banana, sweet potato, carrot, and more. There were a whole lot of orange things. Who knew so many foods mash up to be orange?

Then the Laurels (ages 16-17) sponsored a game where we made baby slings for teddy bears out of toilet paper. It was fun!

And then we did presents. Everyone was so generous. Baby Doozit is basically the luckiest kid ever. We got some CUTE little outfits, a bunch of blankets (including one gorgeous handmade blanket), a very cute diaper cake that I need to take a picture of because it is so much better looking than another other cake I can find online, and various other practical baby items, many of which I had not realized I would need.

I guess technically you don't NEED a rubber ducky that changes color if the water's too hot, but hey! It sure is helpful to have one!

It was pretty much fantastic. I am so grateful to have such amazing friends at church. Baby Doozit is grateful too!

Plus or Minus: Best Novelette?

The second Hugo nominee for Best Novelette is "Plus or Minus." This one weighs in at 11,000 words, which implies that most novelettes are around 10,000 words or so based on my enormous sample size of two (2) novelettes.

A thirteen year old girl who hates her mother (big shocker, I know) decides to become a ship maintenance worker so as to spite her. While out on her first yearlong trip, she realizes that working sucks and is awful, while also still hating her mom. Then a big emergency happens that I'm not going to spoil because I'm not a heartless jerk.

THEY START RUNNING OUT OF OXYGEN.



"Plus or Minus" is very well-written, but is mostly interesting because of how detailed its setting is, especially for something as small/almost-medium as a novelette. A lot of details seemed to have little importance to the plot, yet enveloped you more snugly into the realism of what is technically a fantastical setting.

In the future:

- Muscles are pointless because on the Moon and in space they don't help
- Nobody reproduces naturally anymore because of radiation poisoning
- You can hook up with dream feeds that are like intense virtual reality
- You can essentially IM your thoughts into other people's heads (Could you imagine the horror if teenage girls could do that today?)

Combining the virtual reality and social media with the lack of muscles or sexual reproduction, it appears that World of Warcraft players are going to do just fine in the future.

So what you basically get is a survival thriller that takes place in an amazingly detailed sci-fi setting. The whole running-out-of-air shtick applies a clear story arc to an awkwardly defined medium, such that you're never going "Hmm, this short story has been going on for awhile now," or "This novella sure does feel short," or even "what the heck kind of a poem is this."

My only qualm is that I get a little too invested in the main character. Allusions to her past and her issues with her mom are flying around everywhere, and yet I don't think that any of that gets resolved, or hardly even addressed by the end of the story, even though you get the sense that it's her main conflict in life right now (apart from, you know, breathing.) It feels as if this is merely a single episode of a larger story, kind of like Ender in Exile or The Berenstain Bears Visit The Dentist.

But if we're going to decide whether to give it a Hugo, we need to count the robots. There were technically three robots here, but they lacked any AI and were controlled directly by humans, which doesn't make them much different from RC cars, or voters in Montgomery County. Also, these robots are named after fruit, and the only things that should be named after fruit are probably, well, fruit.

So the Robot Rating for "Plus or Minus" is Three Stupid Fruity Robots. (I mean no offense, of course, to fruit.)

You can read "Plus or Minus" by James Patrick Kelly here. The novelette I reviewed yesterday, "Eight Miles" by Sean McMullen, is available here.

poll on napping!

Okay guys, poll time:

Do you ever feel guilty about taking a nap? Why? Or why not?
Answer in the comments below


Today I didn't really work at the house. I twisted my ankle yesterday, and so today I decided to just rest and not walk around a lot.

Disclaimer: I twist my ankle(s) like 2-3 times a month, but since my feet/ankles have unusually low muscle tone (according to my orthopedist or whatever), it usually doesn't do anything (because there's not enough muscle tone to hurt anything). But yesterday I twisted it while wearing unusual shoes and it kind of hurt.

SO anyway the point is, stayed home, rested. At noon I got really tired so I played my hypnobirthing CD and napped.

And then I woke up three hours later, still tired as tired, and felt SO GUILTY for napping. Even though on Monday I will be officially 9 months pregnant and I've been working on that house every day in 85-90 degree heat and no AC. So probably I have good reasons to nap.

But there is still that GUILT! Dumb or what? Who else feels guilty about napping even when there's a good reason to? Anybody? Anybody?

Eight Miles: Best Novelette?

I'm dutifully reading the material in my Hugo voter's packet, and I decided to start with one of the smaller categories, Best Novelette.

As you are probably already aware, a novelette is a novel that is fancy. Adding "-ette" to the end of things makes them fancier. Take, for example, the Corvette. Do you think anyone is going to go around bragging about their fancy new Corv? I don't think so. Thus, Corvette, pirouette, ninjaette, novelette.

Novelettes began when one author thought to himself, "Self, I think that I can write a story that is just as good as a novel, but significantly smaller in size!" He was like the Intel of authors. Then he realized that they already had that, and that it was called a Novella. So he decided to go even smaller. Unfortunately, that put him too far into Short Story territory, and we all know how they are.

Much like how netbooks are below desktops and normal laptops but still above tablets, novelettes settled two steps below a novel and one step above a short story. QED



The first novelette I read, "Eight Miles," is about a troubled white young man in Detroit who must battle his nerves, upbringing, and surroundings in order to escape his environment and one day become the world's greatest rapper.

Actually, sorry, that's the Hollywood version. The novelette "Eight Miles" rings in at around 10,000 words and takes place in 1840's London. A hot air balloon pilot receives a strange request from a rich man: to take his young furry female friend up to eight miles of elevation.

It turns out that this creature is an alien from another planet, and is, in fact, her race's Napoleon, exiled to a low-elevation planet with thicker air that will render her stupid. The higher she gets, the more lucid she becomes. (Note that the opposite is true of America's college students.)

The 1840's voice is probably the most interesting aspect of this story. It not only feels like something set within that time, but written within that time. The narrator's voice feels very honest to the era, and provides a very refreshing perspective on a typical sci-fi plot.

I have two grudges with this story. Like the Ursas, one is minor, and the other is major. Several instances of dialogue involve a character simply introducing themselves, their background, and motivations within several lines. It seems a little Hollywoody. I wonder if part of this is the constraints of this made-up medium -- with only so much space, maybe this is just an inescapable necessity in order for the story to move at the correct pace. And because it's longer than short stories, there has to be a complicated enough plot that involves enough moving parts -- so you can't just cut out some of these characters. I'll have to wait and see how the four other novelettes approach this same issue.

But my major concern is about what's missing: robots. I combed through the story to make certain, but there are exactly zero robots in this story. There is a foxy alien girl, but here I mean foxy in the literal sense, not the figurative one. A poor substitute for a robot in either case.

Final rating? Zero robots.

Hugo Nominees Beware!

As of yesterday, I, Carl, am a voter for the 2011 Hugo Awards. This means that I will provide critical opinions as to which works of science fiction from 2010 are the best.

Don't panic. (Nominated authors can make their checks out to my name. I also accept PayPal.)

Two men dressed in business suits, sunglasses, and Bluetooths, one of which was probably a cyborg (the man, not the Bluetooth, although that is also very possible), came to my door yesterday and told me that my reading expertise was needed. (They may or may not have dropped the name “SHIELD.”) This request made immediate and perfect sense, as my insight into good writing is incisive and sublime. I naturally agreed, and the men left... but not before they left a tracking device in my house.

Actually, I just paid to be a Supporting Member/voter for Worldcon.

As you probably already know, the Hugo award is named for Victor Hugo, who wrote the first great work of science fiction, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Tales of a deformed monster named Quasimodo and the enormous spaceship he took sanctuary in on the alien planet of France captured the imagination of bajillions of readers.

The important thing here is that I get access to the electronic versions of all the nominations. And this isn't just like four books. They're also the books for Best New Author, Graphic Novel, Art, Other Medium, et cetera. It comes out to probably thirty or so of last year's most highly recognized sci-fi products. So, basically, I don't have to go around asking everybody what the latest and greatest in science fiction is. I just decide what it is, because I'm a freaking Hugo voter, baby!

Obviously, my first plan was to vote for all of the half-written, unpublished sci-fi documents on my computer. (I think this was everyone else's idea, too.) (To vote for my unpublished fiction, I mean.) Unfortunately, they were never nominated, which was a gross oversight. So I'll have to stick to voting for the actual nominees, of which I know absolutely nothing.

Those authors whose works have been nominated probably want to know by what criteria I will be basing my vote. Now, dear reader, you may be wondering, “Why, Mr. Duzett, not to impose upon your blog, but I do believe that their works are already completed! However would knowing your criteria assist them in the slightest at this point in time?”

The answer, of course, involves wormholes. Or black holes. Or possibly both at the same time. These are science fiction writers we're talking about. They have every ability to go back in time and correct their manuscripts so that I'll like them.

But I want to see robots. That's criterion numero uno. I'm pretty sure that it's not sci-fi if there are no robots. Laser beams that come from their eyes would be nice, too. Or a dirigible. (Although a non-shot-from-robot-eyes dirigible would also be acceptable.)

Criterion number dos is more robots. None of this “one robot character thrown in just to satisfy criterion number uno” stuff. You know what they say: two killer robots is better than one. Oh, yeah -- I almost forgot. The robots have to be killer robots.

I'll let you guess what criterion number three is. Here's a hint: it's not less robots.

awesome customer service

Wow, guys! Remember my last post? Check out the comments. I was really impressed that Marie Callender's customer service people reached out over that--totally wasn't expecting it. I just emailed them and we'll see what happens!

I'd just like to say that the experience has not damaged my opinion of Marie Callender's--mistakes happen, and that's just how life goes. Actually, I'm just incredibly impressed that they were so quick to respond to something I didn't even send to them. I thought about calling them to let them know, but then decided I didn't really care enough. The experience was terrifying, but not SO terrifying--I will probably have another one for lunch today.

I should have taken a picture of the pot pie before I threw it away.

Anyway. Props to them for amazing customer service.

EGADS!

I made a Marie Callender's Chicken Pot Pie for lunch, and I was about halfway done with it when I found a PIECE OF BLUE RUBBER GLOVE IN THERE.

EGADS!!!!








!!!

Ah. Ew. Ew. Ew.

discovering sib stuff

I was so excited for Saturday last week, because I would finally have a chance to rest. No joke: peeling wallpaper for 8 hours a day is HARD. Especially when the wallpaper is 30 years old and comes off in little half-centimeter strips. Of course, I forgot that my "rest" would come in the form of taking care of James, which is, oh yeah, totally not restful ever.

Anyway, while I was watching him, I decided to search online for resources for the siblings of the disabled. It's something I've thought about a lot recently.

The other day, I talked to my mom about what it was like to raise typically-developing kids along with a kid like James, and what she wished she had known about raising us with James.

Nothing she said had anything to do with us. She wished she had known how to make a giant size crib for James. She wished she had known how to deal with taking him to the hospital on short notice. How to deal with his teachers. Et cetera. I kept on saying, "but that has nothing to do with your other kids, Mom." And she would say, "Oh, I guess you're right. Hmm. I'll have to think about that." The whole conversation kind of validated a lot of things I've suspected over the years.

So anyway, I started googling. I found about 9 separate articles/websites dealing with "sibling" issues, and then the further you go back in Google, those 9 websites just cycle through. So there's really not a lot out there, at least that I have found so far.

But I did find this really useful website, and this site, which seems to be targeted toward younger kids, but which has a great list of stuff about sibs on the home page. I found a Facebook group for siblings. I applied to join.

I learned that I and my younger siblings are called "sibs." It's the slang term for, obviously, typically-developing siblings of the handicapped. There are approximately 7 million of us in the United States (and 1 million in the UK, which seems to have way better sibling resources than the US does, for reasons I don't understand).

Finding this stuff--even though it's just nine websites and a Facebook page--has been eye-opening. Not all of it is helpful to me. I'll admit I was pretty annoyed to find that most of the sib pages I found were targeted toward sibs of those with ASD. But I guess there are way more people out there with ASD than there are with orphan diseases like my brother has.

I have been seeing that sibs of people with less severe handicaps than my brother have similar issues to me. It's, again, eye-opening. So many of us feel that guilt, and that anger, and frustration, and I never would have known. It's like this page explains,

Until siblings meet other siblings at sibling groups they often believe that they are the only ones. It is not enough to point out another sibling and say that "He or she also has a brother with autism". Siblings need to hear other children talking about their experiences of family life in order to really know that other people understand what it is like for them.

I guess in retrospect it would be obvious that most siblings of the disabled share similar stresses--who will take care of the brother today? Tomorrow? What will happen if my parents die or get sick and my sibling still needs care? Etc. But I always felt pretty alone in those concerns until I started reading other people's stories.

I thought it was interesting that every single site I found noted the role of the oldest sister in the care of the disabled sibling. Every site mentioned it at least once, how the oldest sister in normal families is usually the one to care for the aging parents, and how that same sister in "specially blended families" (of typical and disabled siblings) ends up taking care of the parents AND the handicapped kid too.

It was pretty depressing to discover, but also kind of validating. The responsibilities I have faced are unique because of my role as the oldest sister in this family. I appreciated that at this site they emphasized the importance of including both sons and daughters in planning regarding the handicapped sibling.

Anyway. I realized as I was reading these sites that I have several friends who find themselves in the same situation I do, with a dying or chronically ill or just plain disabled sibling. Hopefully the few sites I linked can be helpful to you guys, too.

magic pictures

My mom just came in and told me that my "magic pictures" worked. Basically, how it works is, you draw a picture of what you want to happen, and put it somewhere where you can see it, and then let your subconscious tap into the Universe and make it happen.

At my mother's request, months ago I drew her a picture of her at an awesome job that she loved, and her boss conspicuously not there.

Today, she came home from work so excited: the pictures worked! She has a new job that she loves, and her old boss has been out sick for... okay, I have no idea how long, but a long time.

Which reminded me that at the same time I drew that picture for my mom, I also drew:

- my BFF getting married (she is!)
- me and Carl living in our own house (we just got one!)

Guess this means it's time for more magic pictures! Since they're working so well.

Winning!

midwife appointment

Midwife appointment was good. Fundal height is at 35 cm. I weighed one pound less than I did two weeks ago on their scale, but nobody said anything about it so I guess it's fine? I just used my nifty pregnancy weight tracker and discovered that I am 4 pounds underweight now.

However, Baby D is getting pretty gigantic, so I don't think there's anything to worry about.

visions of the house

I think I mentioned in my last post that I had to go to a midwife appointment today. Fortunately, the office called me this morning and pointed out that, no, the appointment is tomorrow. Glad to realize that today!

Anyway, so that meant 100% wallpaper removal today. My BFF Julie came over in the afternoon to help and my other BFF Emily came over in the evening to help. They are lifesavers. Especially because I think I'm allergic to the adhesive on the back of one wallpaper the former inhabitants had in the downstairs bathroom.

The house is taking forever to get all cleaned up, but it's starting to get to the point where I can see it in my mind: the piano in the living room corner; the TV on the coffee table; the glider in the bedroom nook. So excited!

day 4 of sweet, sweet, sweet freedom

My life is so grand I cannot even begin to tell you. It's funny because I feel like this is how I used to feel every day. I'm actually a happy person, in real life! Just every day was so awful, I forgot that about myself.

But now, life is joyous and I love it. This is Day 4 of freedom and Day 3 of house cleaning. Yesterday I peeled wallpaper for... 8 hours? And today I'll do it again! Not for as long, because I have a midwife appointment in a few hours and it's an hour away from my house, about, but I'll be peeling wallpaper except for that. And chilling with my Nana, who is coming down to help.

Freedom has been fantastic. One thing that is awesome about it is that I've been eating more nutritional food. I know Baby Doozit is grateful for that. It's nice to be able to cook for myself instead of rely on prepackaged foods that are easy to take and reheat at work.

Also, my acne is clearing up. It's been amazing. All I had to do was extricate myself from the situation that was killing my soul, and voila! Instant health and happiness! Wow! Who would have seen it coming??

The one downside has been that I've been second-guessing myself as far as the business advice I have offered. But yesterday, here is what happened:

One of my darling BFFs found out some very distressing news. She texted me, and I was able to pick her up within 5 minutes of the text, and bring her over to the new house, where we peeled wallpaper to clear our minds and calm down.

And I remembered, the reason I know this friend is because her mom worked with my mom. And why did her mom work with my mom?

Because when that workplace was hiring, they were torn between two potential hires. One of them, my friend's mom, was classy and competent. The other was not, but she had such a sad life story that the lady in charge of hiring felt super bad for her. She was going to hire the non-classy sad-life lady for the job, because she felt so bad.

When my mom told me about it, I reminded her why jobs exist: they exist because there is work that needs to be done. They do not exist to provide money for people you feel bad for--especially if those people can't do the job. I told her, if jobs exist because work needs to get done, you need to just suck it up and hire the competent person. It's sad that the other lady won't get hired, but the reality of the marketplace is that competence must be rewarded. Without rewarding competence, businesses fail.

And so my mom went back to work, explained that philosophy to her boss (who was all like, "gee, I never thought about jobs that way before" [?!?!?!!?]) and hired my BFF's mom instead of the other lady.

Remembering this was very comforting to me. I might be "just" 22, but I think my head is screwed on straight. And after yesterday, I am more convinced than I was even yesterday that this is the perfect situation for me right now. It was my business advice that led to my darling friend's mother being hired, and that led to our friendship. I feel sound.

Things are awesome. I am so grateful I was able to be here for a friend.

house cleaning, part 1

Spent ~9 hours today working on the new house. It was hard but fantastic. I haven't felt so productive in such a long time.

I started out cleaning the baseboards in the master bedroom. It was really, really disgusting. Really disgusting. I don't think anything in there had been cleaned in... yeah, I'm not even going to estimate because thinking of estimates is making me feel sick. Ew.

I swept the floor in there, and then vacuumed, but every time I vacuumed, MORE crap showed up. I think because the air was dislodging the stuff stuck in the crevices of the wood floor. So disgusting. So I gave up on that early on, with a plan to come back. While I waited for my Nana to show up to help, I went down and got started on the wallpaper in the kitchen. I spent more or less the rest of the day dealing with wallpaper, and I'm not that close to being done.

Why, might you ask? Why, because the former inhabitants had wallpapered over wallpaper, probably over even more wallpaper, although at this point I couldn't really say. Yipes. I think we're just going to paint over one layer of wallpaper, in the end. Oh well.

Yes, all the wallpaper is as ugly as you could imagine. And it all smells like cigarette smoke. But slowly and surely, we are eradicating it.

I'm pretty excited for this house. I love that it came through the very day after the giant miracle I'd been praying for. It's like everything in my life that I'd given up on, miraculously happened all at once. Hooray!

Baby Dooz!

Baby Doozit is officially out of the danger zone! He can be born pretty much at any time now and we don't need to worry. This is Week 34. Two months from today, he will be external. I'm pretty thrilled.

This week his body is gaining fat, and putting finishing touches on things like the liver and the central nervous system. He's supposed to be around 5 lbs now (although who really knows).

No, we still haven't picked a name. My mom's been telling people we picked Kwame Guillermo, though. (We secretly didn't.)

As far as I know, this kid is still posterior. For a few days I was very diligent about sitting the way I'm supposed to in order to get him to move, but it's difficult and painful, and also I'm so fatigued always that I just want to go to sleep, not sit on hard things and keep my back straight.

On Wednesday I have my last every-two-weeks appointment, and then we start with the every week thing. Oh boy!

It is so amazing to me to think what has happened in the past week, and what will happen in the next two months. Sweet sweet freedom; new house; new calling for Carl; new baby. My little brother coming home from his mission. And of course, the fantastic news that ward choir is OVER until September at the earliest. What a giant relief.

Everything is so perfect. :o)

HOUSE!

Forgot to mention that on Friday--which was an awesome day--we finally CLOSED ON THE HOUSE! AH!

FOR REAL!! AT LAST! After months and months of drama!

Spent Saturday picking paint and working out the strategic plan for cleaning/painting each room. The last people there were truly, truly slobs. Actually, on Saturday morning when we went to go check the place out, the old tenant was still in there, with his car parked in the garage and moving stuff out. UPDATE: we DID change the locks on Saturday, after that fun time.

He and his minions left us:

- a pretty decent kitchen table w/chairs
- a gigantic TV
- the freakin nastiest loveseat ever
- possibly a pool table? He said he gave it to his friend but his friend hasn't picked it up yet (cross your fingers that he won't)
- a really old desk
- a really old hutch
- two semi-broken bookshelf things that we plan to paint bright colors and stick in Baby D's room
- lots of dead bugs on the floor
- the most disgusting piece of bar soap I have seen in a very long time
- lots of fun presents in the fridge

That might be it?

Yeah, nothing in that house is clean. It is all pretty sick. So I'm spending this week working with my grandmother to clean up and paint. I can't actually paint, being pregnant and all, so I'm just cleaning everything and preparing it to be painted. SO grateful to have the time to do it all.

If you are free this week at any time and want to come hang out and help me sweep up bug carcasses and wipe dust off the baseboards while listening to sweet tunes, let me know.

We are so thrilled. All at once, things have miraculously worked out for us. I don't remember the last time I was so happy.

this reminded me of something

Ace of Spades commenting on another article on the "establishment" (i.e., the entrenched "leaders" of society, etc.):

He mentions the arrogance and insularity of the class, but also notes that the class is spectacularly incompetent at its self-appointed functions.

Its arrogance hits a zenith just as its actual capability hits its trough -- a tandem that often go together, like chocolate and peanut butter.

A cadre of a managing elite actually has a limited skill set. Its skill, to the extent it has any, is "meta," not the details of specific skill areas. Its skills are about coordination, communication, networking, and of course preserving its own privilege.

It lacks other skills. This is, of itself, hardly extraordinary; most mechanics are not particularly skilled at medicine, and most doctors can't fix a car.

But what our current "elite" have is an incredible hubris, and belief that their very, very limited skill-set is some sort of omni-toolkit for solving any problem, granting them instant deep expertise in any subject they survey. So more and more they are actively hostile to those who actually do things in this country, more and more reliant exclusively upon the power of their mutual affirmations and reaffirmations, a human chain of signal repeaters, all broadcasting the same thin, limited, often-wrong information.

And they only look to that signal for solutions to problems. Others, those beneath Our Class, have little to contribute. Oh, if someone is a Celebrity -- a Celebrity Singer (Bono) or Celebrity Scientist (James Hansen), then their counsel can be sought; but of course such people are honorary members of the leadership class.

It will not end well, but it will end.

In other news, this is an interesting list of things some guy read.

things i did on my first day of FREEDOM!

- journaled

- worshiped at the temple



- went out to lunch with darling friends

- practiced some Joplin rags as well as some original pieces from a long time ago

- cleaned the kitchen

- did laundry

- took a short nap

- reviewed the first few chapters of one of my O-Chem texts

- cared for my brother

- went scrapbook shopping for Baby Doozit (but didn't make any final decisions)

- actually did some yoga for the first time in months

- ate 2 fairly reasonable meals (which is to say, I ate more than just occasional snacks and half of a dinner. I spend a lot of time eating but typically that doesn't translate into volume)


Productive! Hooray! Also my parents finally did close on the house tonight, so frabjous day, we start figuring out the paint and everything tomorrow.

I was going to link to the Jabberwocky song, but I can't find a good version of it on YouTube. Oh well.

Feeling pretty beamish. Calloo, callay!

choir thoughts, and excellence

So yesterday was the best day ever, which was amazing, because in the evening, I went to my old high school's choral concert with Carl.

It was so sad, I.... was exceedingly sad.

I was secretly glad that my Flip ran out of batteries after like 1 second, because I would have felt guilty about not recording it otherwise. But I don't think I could have recorded it.

It was really amazing to me that just five years ago (or six?), that choir was so good we were getting invites to the White House and the National Cathedral and the governor's mansion and the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. We sang at the coolest places. That was a highlight of my life. It is rare that a day goes by that I don't miss elite choir.

Yah, there's no way that same choir is invited to those places now.

Watching the concert made me realize how much I have missed excellence. I think that's one reason the past few months have been so distressing: I have seen excellence. But not recently.

In a choral setting, you know when you're excellent, because when everyone sings exactly on pitch, it creates an auditory illusion of an unsung note that seems to pervade the room, called an overtone. It's like this glorious hum that penetrates everyone in the zone. It's amazing, and I have felt it. My old choir could create this particular psychoacoustic illusion fairly frequently.

That is what excellence is.

Anyway. When I took the concert and the whole rest of my day together, I realized that the biggest issue in my life recently has been a lack of excellence. I haven't felt an overtone in forever. I pulled out some T.S. Eliot last week, but other than that, it has been probably over a year since I had read anything even remotely excellent. I haven't studied anything by da Vinci in forever (his excellence astounds me).

Mediocrity is a pathetic aim when excellence is out there. I honestly believe that the cruelest thing that can happen to a person who has known excellence is to take that away. Indeed, I'd almost forgotten the significance of excellence, until last night, when I was forced to see what happens to a choir when all the excellence is gone.

I'm so excited to have time to devote to excellence again. This morning I spent a fair amount of time practicing Joplin (PS, Scott Joplin was SO excellent). This afternoon, I've planned to crack open the spine of my O-Chem book and practice drawing some chemical structures. I have some language textbooks I've been meaning to study. I should practice my guitar.

I'm glad we went to that concert last night. In many ways it was downright scary (Carl later described my high school's current student body as "classy, with a side of class"), but in the end, it was worth suffering through just as a reminder.

Seek excellence.

answered prayers

Yesterday was probably the best day ever.

For the past, oh, seven months, every day I have woken up with dread in my heart. Things with my life plan were just not going how I wanted them to. I didn't understand why I was stuck in such a crappy situation, and I kept remembering what it felt like to live with passion.

Before you have lived with passion, you don't know what you're missing. But after you have lived it, every day without it is like the worst day in the world. I learned that when I graduated early from high school, and I learned it again at several points in college. But this was the worst bout of stagnation I could remember. I was pretty miserable, consistently. (Remember this Metro Friend that saved my day one time? I do!)

Carl told me once that I always seemed way happier when I was home sick--even though I would just cough and throw up the whole time, I would way rather do that than be at work.

Anyway, recently I started praying for a miracle. I couldn't think of anything specific, so I just prayed to make it beyond awesome. I could feel things building up to it last week. But yesterday, MIRACLES STRUCK!!!

It was the BEST DAY!!!!

I got more than Carl and I had even hoped for when we were planning our best case scenarios for our family. It was a glorious, glorious moment. As soon as I heard the news, I knew in my heart that this was the miracle I had been praying for. It was elating.

Anyway, suffice it to say, I am now FREE from a situation that I felt trapped in, and free in the best possible way, and with more security than I had even thought about praying for.

I was reminded in a priesthood blessing recently that Heavenly Father takes care of us. It's like my favorite scripture passage (Matthew 6:30-33) says:

30 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?

32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

All these months I was so... not upset, but just frustrated that my prayers weren't being answered. But in the end, they were answered in a way far better than anything I could have imagined. I am so happy.

People of Walmart video

This will terrify you and I'm sorry.

I will admit that I couldn't bring myself to look away.



It's pretty catchy though.

Only at Walmart!

friend having baby

One of my friends from church is in the hospital right now having her baby, ~4 weeks early. It's weird--our babies were due just weeks apart (2-3 weeks apart!) and now hers will be born. Already.

I discovered today that I've been having Braxton Hicks contractions for a while and just never noticed (I noticed that something was happening, but I never bothered finding out what the heck was going on until today). Good news: they are so painless that I don't even notice them.

Just a few more weeks to go. It's so weird that my friend's baby has come so soon. It's starting to sink in that basically from here on out, Baby D could come out whenever. It's not very likely, perhaps, but it is possible.

Incidentally, Baby D is 33 weeks along. According to that infamous internet, he's basically just finishing up with fingernails and lungs and that sort of thing. Apparently the amniotic fluid development is over--this is how much he's going to be swimming in for the rest of the pregnancy.

Which reminds me of how at church yesterday, one lady came up to me and asked how much longer I had to go. I said, like 7 weeks.

"Your baby will be GIGANTIC!!!!" this lady said.

I left the room and in the hall another lady came up and asked me the same question. I gave her the same answer of around 7 weeks.

"That's impossible," she said. "You're way too small."

SO, the conclusion is, I guess I will have a gigantic baby who is also too small! Or something like that. According to the internet, he is now almost 5 lbs. Pretty intense.

gold spandex pants

Wearing gold spandex pants, I made a hiphop album...



h/t Chilly! <3

Carl's Birthday!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CARL!!!

Today is his birthday. And his mom's birthday, too--and Mother's Day! What a day for celebration.

Carl is the best. For his birthday I got him new sport shorts, and yesterday we saw Thor, got creme frappucinos at Starbucks, looked at books at Borders, and got Wendy's for dinner (because we're classy like that).

Also for his birthday, Carl was called to be a member of the bishopric! He is the new ward clerk. He got sustained and set apart today. I guess next week his responsibilities begin--starting out in the form of a 6 AM meeting next Sunday. Funtimes!

Carl is my favorite guy ever. Being married to him is my favorite thing. Every day I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, because I get to be married to such an awesome dude.

Happy birthday to Carl!

ultrasound pics--FIXED

A darling friend told me that my pictures didn't work--so here they are, again! Sorry about that:

Arms:



Upside-down legs:




Darling feet:




Baby D at 13 weeks:

other notable pregnancy stuff

Kept forgetting to write about this part, but since I've been using this blog to kind of keep tabs on my weight issues, I feel compelled to write it.

I gained zero pounds in between my last two midwife appointments (which were 2 weeks apart), but the midwife said that my weight was fine. Whew. I think Baby D is getting bigger and the rest of me is getting smaller, little by little. I just ran some calculations and I think that even though the weight gain has been sporadic, it's finally to around the average of where it should be given my pre-pregnancy weight.

I can still see my toes. That is heartening.

Today was the first day that my fingers were too swollen to wear my wedding ring.

Ok, that's all.

more ultrasound pics!!

We planned to get these up wayyyy long ago but we didn't. Sorry!

These are from our last ultrasound appointment.

Baby Doozit's cute feet:



His legs, upside-down for extra fun:



His little arms:



Those were of him at 28 weeks. Here is a picture of him at 13 weeks:



My cute baby! For Carl's birthday we went to see Thor today (it was good) and the whole time I could feel Baby D wiggling his fingers. I'm so excited to actually see those fingers.

Only a few more weeks!

hair explanation

First, thank you to everyone who has seen my horrific new 'do and not said anything. I really appreciate it.

Here is the tale of how it happened.

I went to an English-speaking hairdresser with clear expectations which I articulated verbally and with a picture. One of the things I specifically asked for was NOT TO CUT ANYTHING ABOVE MY EARS PERIOD. NOTHING. NO. THING.

So of course then she, you know, cut my hair such that I have hair literally less than an inch and a half long on the top of my head. Seriously. In real life.

Pretty much, let's just say that she did everything I specifically said NOT TO DO and did nothing that I actually ASKED FOR.

So that's why my hair is currently reminiscent of a dead octopus residing on my head. I swear to you that I did not ask for it. I cannot tell you how many tears I have cried over it (and yes, I did feel ridiculous the whole time. At least I feel ridiculous for how shallow I am).

It's not that I feel embarrassed leaving the house with this hair--it's that I feel embarrassed existing with this foul mop. I am embarrassed at all times over this hair, even when there is not another soul in the room to judge. Because I have to judge myself over this awful, awful hair. The other night I woke up in the middle of the night just heartbroken over it. But I have no choice now but to let it grow out.

This is valuable because it is teaching me not to automatically judge people with terrible, horrifically foul hair cuts. It can happen to anybody. Sometimes the hairdresser just doesn't even leave enough hair to let you actually fix the cut. Sometimes you're just stuck.

So anyway, that's the situation. If you run out of things to pray for you can pray for my freakishly foul haircut to grow out quickly. And please remember: I'm really not into tacky foul haircuts. Seriously. It was all a mistake.

:^(

more pregnancy stuff

Last night was so intense: in the middle of the night, my calf got this gigantic charlie horse all the way up it. I actually wondered if my bone was going to crack or bend, like James's femur did that one time. Fortunately I am married to the best guy ever, and he woke up to my whimpering and rubbed my calf out. But yikes. I'm so glad that was the first time it's happened. I've been reading about pregnancy leg cramps for weeks and I'm so grateful I missed out on them!

I did some research yesterday on posterior babies, since Baby D is one of those now. Apparently the other term for them is "sunny side up," which I like way better. Anyway, this website explains why having sunny side up babies is harder than normal and has a bunch of ideas on how to help them move.

One website I found suggested putting cold packs on your back, and warm towels on your front. Since babies don't like cold, the baby will flip around and get into the right position for birth, assuming that they're not backwards because of an umbilical cord issue or something.

So I'm trying to sit with my knees below my hips, and I've tried SO hard not to recline, which enables sunny side up-ness. But that means a lot of leaning forward, which is really uncomfortable.

This morning, to help me out, Carl brought up our exercise ball, which I guess is now where I'll be sitting from now on, since it kind of forces you to keep your knees down and your back up.

Other than that! We're putting together the birth plan. I scheduled a tour of the birthing facility for June 5. We still need to pick a name and a pediatrician and all that sort of jazz. The end of June is swiftly approaching!

Baby Doozit updates

Went to the midwife yesterday. Baby D is good. He is posterior, which basically means that his spine is up against my spine. I'm glad to know this, because I've kept hearing people talk about how they could feel their baby's back or spine against their tummy, and I haven't been able to feel that at all. Sometimes I can feel a foot pressed up against me, but nothing else.

But apparently that's because his back is just the other way. This is bad if he decides he wants to stay that way forever, but he has 6-8 weeks to flip around into proper birthing position and I'm not too worried.

Don't worry; he's head-down, so that's all good.

The midwife seemed to assume I was taking an iron supplement, which I'm not. I told her that I was trying to eat more ironic foods (ha, ha), and that now I take extra vitamin C to help the iron absorption. So I guess maybe my anemia has finally cleared up, all these months later?

how i cured my otitis externa

I kept meaning to post about this, but I also kept forgetting. From around January to around, oh, just recently, I was dealing with an annoying bout of otitis externa (which basically means, ear infection). DON'T look it up on Wikipedia because you WILL regret it.

My ear did not look like the ears in the Wikipedia pictures (thankfully!), but I did go temporarily deaf in my right ear, and it was all, you know, just scaly and gross. Very, very unfortunate.

I have a whole new respect for Mozart. Being a deaf musician totally rots.

But anyway, I was worried because the infection didn't go away, and because of the pregnancy I'm pretty against using medication.

So, I looked up a bunch of stuff online, and this is what I did that worked--my home remedy, as it were:

1. Prayed a lot!

2. Used a mixture of distilled white vinegar and hydrogen peroxide in my afflicted ear 2x daily and at night as needed. The mixture was approximately half and half, and I mixed it in the cap of my hydrogen peroxide bottle. You just pour the capful into your ear and then tilt your head so it stays in there for a bit. The hydrogen peroxide bubbles and the vinegar disinfects and smells like salad. :^/

3. Alternated a hot pack/cold pack along that whole side of my face/neck, to help alleviate the swelling in all the tissues around there. I probably used each of those packs for 10 minutes at a time, with a few minutes of break in between each use. I think it went kind of like this: Hot 10 mins, break 2 mins, cold 10 mins, break 2 mins, repeat.

4. Slept with a cold pack as a pillow on that side of my face/neck. This actually made a huge difference. I wrapped the pack in a handtowel and just put it on top of my pillow, and it helped a TON.

5. Sigh. Took one acetaminophen per day for three days. I didn't want to do it but I kept feeling like I should, so I did, and it worked out, so there we go. The acetaminophen was also for the swelling.

After three days and nights of doing all those things, my otitis externa was all gone, and I didn't have to go to a doctor.

So, if you find yourself suffering from a scaly inner ear and overall deafness, those are things you can try. Sorry that this is totally gross, guys. But I thought the internet deserved to know what worked for me! I wish I'd had a thing like this to read when I was looking for a solution.

nostalgia.

AHHHH I just got another hair cut today and I have mixed feelings! Slash, it's the kind of hair cut I normally hate on everyone and now it is MINE!!! AH!! Looking for ways to fix it. Oh man. Oh, noes.

I hated my last hair cut, secretly, but now I feel just very sad that I tried to get it fixed and now it's what it is. :^(

It's making my soul frowny but I just have to tell myself, it will grow.

Maybe this is because just the other day I prayed for help being more humble. Isn't that an awful thought??

This is a post to just commemorate that one time that I was actually hot, and had a figure but one inch off Marilyn Monroe's, and could run five miles in one go, and dated so much I basically never needed to buy groceries. THOSE DAYS EXISTED!!!! You would never know if you looked at me now, but they TOTALLY DID!!!!!

i used to have a really great figure one time (picture taken about 4 months before I met Carl)


i had long, shiny curly hair one time



i could fit into pretty dresses once



:^(

Remind me not to cut my hair again for like two years, kthx.

Metro stories

Yesterday, I saw two really noteworthy examples of courtesy (or lack thereof) on the Metro. I talked about them with the Young Women last night for Personal Progress, but the story has stuck with me and I wanted to share it here.

Carl and I got on the Metro on our way home from work, and a nice guy stood up and offered me his seat. It was so kind of him.

Now, a few stops later, an old lady got on. Really, really old. I saw her and was like, whoa! I should give her my seat! But then I remembered, hey wait--I'm pregnant! Maybe it's not my job to stand up for her?

I had this inner debate with myself and decided that I would just wait and watch and if she stood for too long I would give her my seat.

Well, I didn't need to worry about that. Because she went up to these people sitting in the front seats of their row, and glared at them until they both moved. A businesswoman in a suit and a giant ghetto dude. They both scrammed and this lady took the seat by the window.

She sat down, and then leaned forward to the woman who had been sitting in the blue seat (which is supposed to be available for the handicapped). The woman sitting in the blue seat had a GIANT giant suitcase, and was holding several bags and messing around on her iPad.

Anyway, the old lady leaned forward and spat, "That seat is for seniors. Are you blind? Can't you read?" and every single word just dripped with derision.

The woman in the seat was incredibly gracious. She just said, "I'm really sorry. Would you like this seat? Because I can move. It's not a problem." The old lady just grunted (remember, she'd already chased away two entire human beings from her row during rush hour). The woman in the blue seat just picked up all her stuff, packed it all up, and dragged her bags and her giant suitcase off to another corner of the car. In retrospect, I wonder if that woman was also pregnant (or just kind of awkwardly fattish around the middle. I hate when you can't tell!).

The old lady just leaned back and grumbled and glared out the window for the rest of the time. She had chased away three separate people during rush hour. They were all just standing in the aisle. It was amazing to me that they would rather stand than sit next to her--but not that amazing, because wow, that lady was witchy, and I don't blame 'em.

Anyway, that was just a very sad thing to behold.

Welcome to May!!

Hooray for May! Carl's birthday is coming up, next Sunday. You can honor his birthday by visiting our baby registry (you'll have to search for our names there). That would also be a good way to honor Baby Doozit's upcoming birthday!

Next Sunday is also Mother's Day. Thank the mother in your life for giving birth to you. That whole process seems pretty crazy.

Not gonna lie--I'm mostly excited for May because it means Baby Doozit is ALMOST DONE! Depending on who's talking, Baby D has just 6-8 more weeks to go. If he's due in the last 2 weeks of June, and this is now May... !! Hooray!

At ~32 weeks, Baby D now has a 90+% chance of surviving if I were to give birth to him right this second. He is sensitive to temperature and his eyes are officially blue. He's supposed to be around 4 pounds at this point, although in the end, who knows. He has fully formed toenails and is busy growing hair.

I'm really excited for Baby Doozit's hair. I really hope he has some. I have seen way too many bald babies lately. My dream is for him to have Carl's color of hair and my curls. I think that would be the best.

Here is a good song: