Programming.

So, I decided to branch out before locking myself into a major--most likely English, but you know how it goes--and enrolled in a computer programming class this semester.  My thinking was, if I love video games so much, why not see if I could help create them for a living.

Erroneous assumption, right there.  See, in my naivete, I neglected to realize that computer programmers are involved in much, much more than merely video games.  On the first day, our professor reflected on the fact that cars made after 2011 generally utilize about forty CPU's. Mind. Blown.

Predictably, the first few weeks were easy.  Mostly learning the in's and out's of computers, as well as the specialized lingo most programmers use.  My confidence level was regrettably high.  Then came the actual programming.  Now, I'm as bright as the next kid, even generally more so, but the moment I attempted to code in Java I felt like a caveman trying to drag a cart on square wheels.

Bewildered, I approached my professor to ask his advice.  He merely shrugged and told me if it was too difficult, I should drop the class.  Immediately, my hackles went up.  Drop the class?  Admit defeat?  Oh no, sir.  I mentally hiked up my pants before stomping back to my computer to stare at the incomprehensible strings of characters.

After a frustrating twenty minutes in which I pestered my neighbor to the point that he most likely wanted to strangle me, I was staring at a fully functional program.  Granted, it only found the average of three numbers, and took about ten minutes of error hunting to make passable, but there it was.  Delighted, I ran the program at least five times, inputting numbers, and suppressing a shriek of glee each time it ran smoothly.

Then I made the mistake of glancing over at my neighbor's screen, which displayed a program to calculate payroll.  This alone would not have been impressive if hadn't realized that he'd included taxes, overtime, vacation hours, and holidays.

Luckily, I resisted the urge to reach over and alt+f4 that showoff.

But it was close.

Doubt.

I am supposed to be writing here every day.  And every day, swaddle myself in blankets, drape a snuggie across my shoulders and stare at this blank space until I can't stand it anymore.  No one is reading it.  No one will complain if I do not write.  Yet...

Each day I return to stare at the page, and it mocks me.  It's blankness a constant reminder that I am inadequate, unoriginal.  Nothing pithy or amusing comes to mind.  I stare, and I stare, and I wonder.  I wonder if this is what I want.  To stare at a page day in and day out.

Several pieces of advice suggest that when one is stuck, just write what comes to mind.  This is my attempt.

I lied today.

In an attempt to placate an agitated dementia sufferer, I spun a wild tale about snowmobiling across the wilds of Canada with a group of friends.  I have not been snowmobiling since I was a child, and even then it was merely to tow the neighborhood kids around on sleds.  Once, I turned a corner too sharply and flung one of them into a tree.  That, however, is beside the point.

It did no harm, this little white lie.  I wonder even now if the person will remember it when so much of their vital memories have already slipped away.  The concept makes me...melancholy.

There was an episode of Doctor Who in which a girl named Sally Sparrow stated, "Sad is happy for deep people."

I think of all the moments that took place in that person's life that will never return.  With no pictures or stories, the memories are all that remain.  It's as if with each dying cell, each lost connection, the pieces of themselves slip away.  Their personalities crumble.

It's heartbreaking.

A Healthy Disagreement.

It was brought to my attention several weeks ago that Netflix had added my favorite television show of all time to its instant streaming collection.  Now, that may not sound like a big deal, after all it's just a t.v. show.  Let me first explain why this matters.

This show advocates beliefs so fundamentally contradictory to my own, that it is a miracle I watch it at all.  My father will openly lobby against it at family dinners, and major holiday gatherings if I am foolish or forgetful enough to bring it up, because it follows the trials and travails of a democratic presidency.  In short, The West Wing is a program written by liberals, primarily for liberals.  I am at heart a very slightly moderate republican.  Each episode presents several scenarios likely encountered in the course of a president's day, and the staff's responses to these situations are often very different from my own.

This disagreement, instead of pricking my temper, forces me to examine my own beliefs in order to defend them.  Ordinarily, watching a program is simply that--watching.  You sit for 30 minutes to an hour having your hand held as the writers lay out their story in easy, uncomplicated dialogue with the occasional meandering plot shift.  It is extremely rare to discover a show you must actually think about while watching, instead of running as background noise for whatever task needs to be done.

When I watch the West Wing, I am forced to elevate my level of discourse, both in terms of listening and speaking.  The humor is fantastically indecipherable, complex to the point of obscurity, but hilarious nonetheless.  Sarcasm is in abundance, and jokes are delivered in such a flat tone of voice that one must do a mental double take before realizing that the punchline has been said.  Basically, it is an exercise of the mind.

For example, I was recently out to dinner with a group of friends at one of those sports bars/restaurants that have televisions plastered on every wall, sending their patrons into such sensory overload that they do not notice the substandard service or less than satisfactory entrees.  Along the top of one wall was a scrolling ticker tape of game scores and headlines.  Now, I will not attempt to portray myself as anything more than a passing fan of sports.  I can follow and understand almost any sport, but the finer points of statistics and the nuances of plays escape me.  What interested me was a headline proclaiming Greece's movement toward a new budget.

For those that do not know, I believe Greece went bankrupt sometime in the last year.  I do not know the details, and I do not want to make a complete imbecile of myself trying to bullshit my way through a discussion, but the news was big enough that I remembered it.  Immediately, I wondered how they'd done it.  How could a bankrupt country even have government enough to broker a budget?  When I couldn't think of a satisfactory answer, I asked my friends.  They looked at first confused, and then when they realized that I was actually looking for an answer, alternately laughed in my face or stared as if I had suddenly sprouted antlers and done the conga.

Now, I am no political activist.  I simply don't have the memory for it.  But after watching the West Wing and understanding some of the chaos behind the scenes of the decisions of a nation, I cannot help but wonder when I see those screaming headlines.

It may not have explosions--at least not many on camera--or unbelievably attractive lead characters, but it is intelligent.  I have at times wanted to simply high five the writers, despite my disagreeing with many of their beliefs, because the entire series is so very well done. Within this long-winded blathering, lies my primary reason for mentioning the show.

In one of the later seasons, during a political campaign, one of the candidates is attacked for his failure to attend church services, and replies by saying that religion should not be a factor in electing government officials.  Of course, it was said in a much more impressive way to make it appear courageous and noble, instead of duck and cover.  Immediately, I stepped away from my laptop so I would not be tempted to throw it across the room in a fit of violent disagreement.

I understand why such a sentiment might be appealing to those without a concrete faith; it creates some semblance of a level playing field, while simultaneously making politicians who are openly religious appear to be politicizing their faith.  If I could make one rebuttal, it would be that perhaps the reason voters are so anxious to know the particulars of a candidate's religion is simply to reassure themselves that the person they are electing to public office will truly be reflecting their views, not just in policy, but in morality as well.

There are certain aspects of my faith that create a hard line for me on topics like abortion and marriage.  I will argue for my side until the four horsemen chase me up to heaven, but no one will ever convince me that these issues are not important. I would be a fool to vote for someone without knowing whether they believe as I do, especially in the issues so often influenced by faith, which is a point the writers of the West Wing have failed to make.

I endeavor to forgive them for the oversight.


Lisa

Minecraft.

As far as days go, this one was uneventful.  I woke.  I worked.  I ate.  Then, at precisely 7:30 p.m. I turned on my Xbox and everything changed.  For those that do not know, the starting screen of an Xbox that has Xbox Live enabled is a veritable flood of advertisements.  Most, but not all, are entirely related to Microsoft and its affiliates.  Today, however, the dominating image was a reminder that a live-stream of the newest Minecraft documentary.  I was dubious, as most documentaries make me feel as if I am back in desk on the verge of a panic attack.  At the prodding of my friend, I reluctantly began to watch.

I'm unsure just how much you will know about Minecraft at this point, but it is essentially an 8-bit sandbox style game with endless possibilities for building, crafting, and fighting monsters.  The player can break apart blocks, and use them to build quite literally anything he or she can imagine, while at the same time dealing with the zombies, endermen, and creepers who appear each night.

The only reason I mention this documentary, when I am certain there are few who might stumble across this blog and actually know what I am talking about, is because the movie was stunning.  It chronicles the journey of the Lead Developer and Creator of Minecraft, Notch.  While this story would be interesting on its own, the filmmakers chose to focus more on how this simple game has revolutionized the way games are built and played.

With the small team of people who compose Mojang, the company founded with Minecraft, Notch has created a world in which children and adults are equals.  Each person begins with exactly the same tools, and the only limits are to what he or she is able to think up and build.

I, like many others, viewed the game as strictly nerd territory.  I could not believe that a game with such rudimentary graphics could ever keep me entertained.  It wasn't until I was begged, cajoled, and finally threatened into playing it, that I realized what a revolutionary game it was. Still I don't understand it entirely, and have to resort to asking my friends or looking up videos on YouTube, but even with my basic skills the game is challenging.  I have yet to formally beat it, even with roughly one hundred hours of game play logged.

My only hope is that the game continues to flourish and change, creating even more tools to play with and avenues to explore.  Surely in ten or even fifteen years time, children and adults alike will still be building and creating within the magical world of Minecraft, and I can hardly wait for the nostalgia to set in.

Ode to Maria V. Snyder.

I just finished reading Maria V. Snyder's Study series for what has to be the tenth time, and I just needed to say that it is probably my favorite fantasy series.  For those that haven't read it, I shall give a short--hopefully--summary of the trilogy.

The story centers around a young woman named Yelena, who grew up an orphan in the home of one of the eight generals who maintain areas of the country of Ixia for their leader, The Commander.  Yes, he is generally referred to as such, but his name is really Ambrose.  At the age of maturity, she begins to be tested by General Brazell, his son Reyad, and an adviser named Mokgan.  These trials are in effect, torturous exercises designed to break her spirit.  When, after a blatant display of disobedience, Brazell decides she will not break, she is surrendered into the sadistic care of his son, Reyad.  Reyad consequently tortures and rapes Yelena.  After a casual remark about the experiments continuing with one of the other children in Brazell's care, Yelena slits Reyad's throat, and is sent to the Commander's dungeons to await execution.

This is where her story truly begins.  The region is divided into two nations, Ixia and Sitia.  When the Commander took over Ixia, he decreed that all persons with magic would be sentenced to death, so Ixia is primarily non-magical, while Sitia is ruled by a council and a handful of Master Magicians.  Yelena, who has spent nearly a year in the dungeons, is taken into the castle to meet with Valek, the Commander's head of security and the most feared assassin in both territories, and is offered a choice:  be hanged, or agree to be the Commander's Food Taster.  Essentially, she would exist to make sure none of the Commander's meals were poisoned.

She chooses to live as a Food Taster.

The first book revolves around the plot surrounding Brazell's torture of her, Yelena's relationships within the castle, and her discovery of her own magical talents.  Perhaps my favorite aspect of this book is her relationship with Valek, who falls in love with her.

In the second, she escapes after saving the Commander's life, and journeys to Sitia to develop her magic. Once there, she is reunited with her family--including a brother who hates her--and discovers a rogue magician who is torturing and killing girls to harvest their souls. Along the way she learns that she is the first Soulfinder in nearly two thousand years, a type of magician who can interact directly with a person's soul, rather than their mind.  Yelena is feared and hated for this ability, because the last Soulfinder was capable of raising an army of the dead.

Finally, the last book follows Yelena's struggles with being a Soulfinder, the story of the boy-king Cahil, and a Fire Warper of incredible power, who is intent on leaving the plane on which he is trapped.  Yelena, because of her abilities as a Soulfinder, is the only one capable of journeying onto that plane and keeping the Fire Warper imprisoned.


Of course, a lot of other things occur, and to be honest I could probably rhapsodize about this series endlessly, but I'll leave you with a few reasons why I enjoy Snyder's work so much:

1. World Building.
     Without a doubt, this woman has created some truly spectacular worlds.  The countries differ not only in governing styles, but in their very culture.  MVS's strength lies in making the reader believe that her world exists absolutely, we have only to find it.

2. Characters.
     This may be extremely girlish, but I loved the romantic side of her books.  Particularly the fact that while the romance was present, it was not the main focus.  Shifts in characters were so subtle, you hardly noticed it.  Really though, her characters are well thought out, and clearly defined.  Each piece of dialogue was styled precisely for the character who was speaking, giving them a true voice.  Ari and Janco were masterfully portrayed; I could not stop laughing.

3. Politics.
     I have always been a fan of politics.  West Wing, a show that centers around the White House of a Democratic President, has always been one of my absolute favorites.  MVS did an absolutely brilliant job of crafting both internal, and foreign policy for her nations, and I thoroughly enjoyed each interaction.

I apologize for the spoilers, though I hope they intrigue you enough that you might pick up the series and read it for yourself.  If you like fantasy even the least bit, you will adore these books.



Lisa

Let's Begin.

In this inaugural post, I suppose I must introduce myself.  

Lisa.

I cannot say that every character by this name fits a stereotype, but I assure you, the majority do.  More often than not, Lisa is the extremely pretty and just intelligent enough to be truly cruel villain of most girl-centered movies.  Of course, I refer primarily to dramas and romantic comedies.  

While I don't possess the first trait, I will lay claim to the second.  I'm not brilliant, despite many adolescent years spent trying to be.  My wit works either in writing--it's always easier to be witty when one has the luxury of time--or if my internal filter short circuits.  I try to stay away from anyone I would like to remain friends with when this happens, as I tend to become flippant, arrogant, and spiteful. 

Despite these fits of malevolence, I am not a bad person.  At least, no one has told me so if I am.  

One thing I need to take the time to make abundantly clear is that I am a geek.  It's best you know this up front, so when the odd Battlestar Galactica reference appears, you will not fall out of your chair in shock.  As much as I’d like to list every movie, television show, and video game I will reference, you would literally weep with boredom.  Just know that you have been warned.

I’m positive there is other essential information I should impart, but I’m at a loss.  It’s like when someone asks you to tell them about yourself.  Your mind immediately blanks, leaving only the contents of a snapshot biography that would fail even Wikipedia’s less than stringent submission policies.  I suppose all I can hope is that eventually, I remember.

I bid you welcome with a shrug and depreciative grin, and hope you enjoy my random rambles.

Lisa