Of Corn and Men, 2

My precision is off and I underestimated my reading voraciousness. I said on Friday, I would post something every chapter or so with the intention that the “or so” would mean no more than two or three chapters. Further, I thought I would limit my reading to about that much a day. This would allow me and you at the most a month long of entertainment.

Instead, I read an entire section – an entire third of the book aver the past few days. At this rate, I’ll probably be done by the end of week at the latest with only a few posts to show for it. I guess I need to figure out other ways to “capitalize” on my endeavor. Well, enough about my hardships in sticking to a planned schedule. More about the book.

Of Corn and Men, 1

I recently received my required summer reading for college. The book is “The Omnivore’s Dilemma, A natural History of Four Meals” by Michael Pollan. Included was a laundry list of questions, which means I’m expected to respond to this book in some form. So, I’ll turn a few of my dissertations/rants into “reading journals.” Every chapter or so, I’ll try to work up the motivation to reveal my thoughts and reactions to what I’ve read. At the same time, I may be doing my own research. Albeit, over the Internet. The one thing I may not do is actually answer the questions. I’m a poorly trained New Criticism Literature analyst, but also prone to reacting in non-standard ways. Whatever I write, I hope you find it interesting.

My first reactions…

From the grave, again

Since the new year started I have been exceptionally poor about keeping this blog up to date. I guess my heart hasn’t been in it as much as the more popular blog writers. Still doesn’t mean I’m going to kill this project. I just have personality deficits (like normal, average people) to “overcome.”

What’s new?

The S.L. Client’s UI.

My apologies for not posting for the two weeks after committing myself to posting more often. It seems a little hypocritical of me. But, I have been somewhat involved with a few projects. One of which is close to fruition and the other will bear fruit once a new pack of fertilizer arrives. The first project I promised to show you back in October. I went back on my promise though, deciding it was more important to complete the thing first. But! I’m close enough to completion that you can wet your appetites again. I should have pictures and information by the end of April. I’ll consider discussing my other, more recent projects – depending on how much I can de-personal-information-ify them (remember, I’m a random high school senior, sentient being in the Orion Arm blogging on the Galactic Net). Anyways, on to the subject of today’s brief post!

The Second Life Client (or, viewer) has evolved over the past few months and, with it, its UI has changed as well. I like most of the changes, I especially like the “purely aesthetic change” of Windlight. Though, their has been much criticism of recent viewers. I’ve been pretty satisfied, its beautiful though it freezes and hangs up. I, however, will offer one bit of criticism: The client’s UI needs to be redesigned. Its pretty easy to use once you get used to Second Life and the UI. On the other hand, it can have a pretty large learning curve, presents a little too much information, and is somewhat obtrusive. A simpler UI would be better.

What follows is a proposal.

In wandering…

I have decided to keep your (increasingly) divided attention with another poem. Further entertainment can be had at the Web Comics page, where you can find an incomplete list of the web comics I keep up with. Otherwise, you have to hold a day or two for the philosophically captivating posts.

Before us lie meandering
ways. I, a tragic hero, travel
in dark forests where lives unravel
Across the green, luck is pandering
to me, in castles, clothed in purple.
In aspen woods, newly white,
my paths diverge in fractals with mine
and twist and turn with thine.
Yet, the air ahead fogs my site
down these trails, like dark alleys
leading from sunny summer valleys
and days cast in silver light.
Yet every yellow brick road
leads not to Oz’s abode
but Charon’s dock.

Battlestar Galactica

I am, for once, jumping on a “news” bandwagon early (for me… I know there are roughly 399+ blogs up already on it). It is difficult to do; my cat thinks my time is better spent contemplating her navel. Despite these setbacks (and meows), I will endeavor to relate the experience of Episode 1 of Season 4 of Battlestar Galactica (BSG).

 

Battlestar Galactica is (and was) set on a very simple and possibly cliché premise: “—, WE ARE LOST IN SPACE! How do we find home?” Granted, their implementation puts a twist on the concept. They have no home to return to, their first attempt at establishing a new home failed, and they have an uncertain home to find. In the midst of it, they are being chased to their death by their own children, the robotic (the term cyborg seems increasingly more appropriate) Cylons. At the outset of the series, they desired to pursue humanity to its destruction. Contrary to the series’ claim that the Cylon’s have physicaly evolved, both sides have evolved psychologically and sociologically. The Cylon’s have grown “faces” and BSG shows more and more what their side of the story is. At the same time, you see the psychological toll and societal stress on humanity locked in a never-ending war while attempting to maintain some semblance of civilization. Such a simple, cliché premise is used to create an excellent psychodrama and great social, political, and philosophical commentary.

Note: Spoilers ahead…

Restart

I don’t think this blog is dead (things on the Internet can’t ever really die… they just sleep comatose until someone finds them again), yet. I emphasize the yet part as I don’t know how dead I will feel during and after the May IB exams (total hours of testing: please don’t make me count). To pass, I might have to draw pentagrams in the ground and summon ghosts, spirits, demons, <insert paranormal entity here>, whatever. I have to check the rules though… they can be draconian.

I’ll try to start posting (randomly) again, though. I don’t have much material in mind (so the 5-20 ish of you who read this… please suggest ideas). I could always review webcomics. I don’t know if this was or will be prominent enough to impact the webcomic “industry” that much. On the other hand, this was never much more than a personal project of mine. We will have to see.

In short:

Hello, again! I’m going to be updating! Please comment!

For those who followed the very few snippets regarding IB, I have good news: everything, for IB, is turned in. Woo hoo! Ya…… o, wait. I still have IB tests.

Well, hope this return from a “vacation” (read: I, and many who publish free online content, are lazy) goes well. If not, I’ll just bore you with poetry.

Sincerely,

Me The Author Xaos Me

Education Part III

In this third installment of my posts on the education system and Ron Paul’s attitude towards the Department of Education, I’ll answer a question about the system. I would answer more. But, surely, you don’t want to read more than 800-ish words in one sitting?

Who writes the textbooks? What do they cover and what do they leave out?

In the United States, textbooks are produced by a small textbook publishing industry. In considering the impact of textbooks on the education system, we can’t look at the producers first, though. The primary concern is the consumers.

E.T.

I saw this neat photograph in the news today, thought I’d share it with the few who read this:

Is it a UFO? Or is it a fancy type of cloud?

More star stuff…

“But a Genocide”

Somewhat as filler, a poem regarding Darfur. For those who don’t know the crisis, I reccommend this site to begin learning about it.  

A Sonnet for Darfur

I was a simple man,
A child of Uncle Sam
Striding along Armageddon’s Plains
Were monsters out of nightmarish lanes -
I saw acts of terrifying fright,
A darkened world unknowing light

The masked men labour and leaving
In their wake, Tribes of Women grieving
For they are worse than dead
Among the Hellish fires and bullets of lead
The Huts and fields explode.
Children destroyed as they rode

They cry for Peace,
                                    for Uncle Sam,
my heart,
                   and me,
                                   but a Simple Man.