Curse That Cursor

            Blink. Blink. Blink. That’s all that nasty cursor does. It just sits there and blinks. It’s no help at all. I sit here for ages, just watching it blink away when it’s supposed to have a beautiful stream of words flowing out from behind it.

            ...

            Okay, I’ll admit that it’s more of a jumpy, fragmented, frequently doubled back upon for corrections stream of words, but my point still stands. There are supposed to be words there and there are none. Couldn't the cursor be a little more helpful than this? Couldn't it do more than just sitting there, blinking?

            I know! It could be an inspiration coach. The word processor could sense when it is inactive and the cursor could morph into a dragon and fly around the screen, or start spewing writing advice, or, at the very least, fall over out of boredom. At the best, it could start writing all on its own.

           Hey, look! Words! I did it. I wrote a blog. Well done me.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Fixing the Global Economy

            I've often looked at the economy and wondered what could be done to make it work better. There’s a complete lack of balance in the wealth, there are far too many people unemployed and – at least in first world countries – there is far too much waste.

            So, here’s my thought of what we need to do. First, we cut the average work shift from 8 hours to 4 hours – this doubles the number of shifts available and entirely eliminates unemployment, while allowing people to either spend more time doing what they actually want to do or to work a second job without killing themselves.

            Second, because there are so many more jobs available, we’ll then be able to cut back on the surplus of products we are currently creating. Between the lower number of products being created and the subsequent less materials required, jobs and employment should balance out perfectly – there will even be a bit of flex room available, allowing jobs to be made available as people need employment.

            Third, we eliminate built-in obsolescence. Because there will be more people working shorter hours (less stress, more relaxation time) and creating fewer products, we’ll be able to afford the time and materials to make things properly and to last. They will be a little more expensive, but we won’t have to buy a new one every couple of years.

            Fourth, balance the money flow. Pay people what they deserve and what they need to survive. There’s enough money out there – it just isn't in the right places.

            The end result is that we’ll be paying more people (shorter hours) to make less things (albeit higher quality) and we’ll have so much less waste that we’ll be able to use our resources to help less fortunate countries. Wouldn't that be nice?

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Reviewing the Night Angel Trilogy

            A book review! What’s with that, right? Not just a review of one book, but of three. Of course, that’s partially because you can’t just read one of these books. If you read one, you have no choice but to read the rest (this is, of course, going based on the assumption that you start with the first book. If you read books out of order, someone needs to serve you a healthy dose of OCD).

            The Night Angel Trilogy is a series written by Brent Weeks that contains the books The Way of Shadows, Shadow’s Edge, and Beyond the Shadows. It is the story of a worthless boy from a street guild who gives up everything to become a wetboy (an assassin who augments his skills with magic), then becomes goes on to become one of the most important people in the world.

            The first thing I should say about these books is that it is the darkest and grittiest fantasy I have ever read – in fact, too much so for my tastes. Yet, this is the second time I have read them. Based on the content, I would have put the first book down by chapter three. By that time, however, the story was already so compelling that I couldn't bring myself to stop reading until the end of the entire trilogy. I even knew that, in spite of the content I was uncomfortable reading, I would have to read it a second time to catch all the brilliant foreshadowing I missed the first time through.

            For this series, Brent Weeks has created a world that is real. I don’t mean one that feels real – loads of authors accomplish that – but a world that pulls no punches, where the worst imaginable things can and do happen. After a while, you can believe you’re actually living in this world, in spite of the magic that is fairly common. Setting this scene is helped by the books starting off with a child living in the seedy underbelly of a society that is rotten to the core.

            Every character introduced is unique and believable, largely because they aren't “ideal” people. Most of them have more flaws and unlikeable points than not, yet they are so intriguing that I found myself wanting more about the history and adventures of even the most insignificant side characters.

            As I said earlier, the story itself just grabs you and drags you through. You quickly grow attached to the characters, then the worst imaginable things happen to them with no possible way out, yet there’s just enough good happening to keep your hopes up. By the end, you let out a well satisfied sigh – it doesn't all turn out the way you hope or expect, but you’re left feeling like it’s the best possible resolution and you couldn't ask for more.

            My only objection to anything in the series is some of the language used. In a world so well created, I felt that it took away from it when wording was used that felt too modern. The one sticks out the most in my mind (from both times I read it) was when one character “fell on his butt”, which I felt could have been worded far more eloquently. On the other hand, I might just be picky.

            So, if you can endure the dark and gritty (containing nightmarish monsters the worst things you can imagine happening to people), this is a series I would highly recommend reading. If you can’t endure it, don’t even start the first one to find out, because you’ll have no choice but read all of them. Twice, if you’re like me.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Metaphorical Starbucks

            Once, a long time ago (back before we were married), my wife and I sat in a car debating whether or not she should go into Starbucks to purchase a particular beverage she desired. It wasn't the first time a debate such as this had occurred, but it turned out to be the last.

            It all came down to the money. We weren't in a particularly good financial position, especially because we were in the process of saving for our wedding and our future. That was the topic we’d been discussing prior to my wife’s imminent departure for Starbucks.

            After how much she’d been expressing that she desired the aforementioned beverage, I was very frustrated when she suddenly changed her mind and refused to get out of the car. She insisted that it was something she wanted, not needed, and therefore she should go without it. Since this was a method of money-handling I’d taught her, I could have left it at that – but I knew how much she wanted that drink, so I shared with her the following philosophy.

            Life is hard. Sometimes it’s downright miserable and nothing seems to go your way. You might be a hairsbreadth from being broke, but that doesn't mean you can just stop spending money on the little things that make you happy. Because, the truth of it is, life isn't worth living if you can’t find some enjoyment in it. Sure, a penny saved is a penny earned, but if you live your entire life like that, you end up miserable and sitting on a mountain of pennies, wondering why you bother with it all. On the other hand, you could go into Starbucks and spend some of those pennies on a drink that will cheer you up. In the long run, you won’t be as wealthy, but your life will be far richer.

            Now, whenever my wife and I use the word Starbucks, we’re very rarely referring to the coffee shop. Starbucks means all those little things in life that you don’t need to buy – perhaps it’s even a bad choice to spend the money – but they make life a little brighter and happier for a time.

            Happiness is worth far more than all the money in the world, so every now and then, treat yourself to some Starbucks (from wherever you choose) – your life will be richer for it.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Workshopping with Homeschoolers

            Last Monday I had a delightful experience. My wife and I taught a chainmaille workshop for a homeschooling group.

            When I was first asked to run this workshop, I asked the mother who’d suggested the idea to have the kids look through my website to pick projects they’d like to learn. The reply I got was that they wanted to learn the techniques and be allowed to make what they wanted after that.

            This, in itself, was a bit of a challenge, since it’s hard to plan for such an unstructured lesson – particularly for materials. However, I also understood the benefit of allowing the children free reign with what they created.

            So I went and I taught a group of eight (including one of the mothers and the curator of the museum we were at) the basics, then stuck around to teach more to those who wanted to learn more patterns and help the others with what they were making on their own. It was a wonderful time – it felt like I was there having fun with a group of friends. It was also great to teach people so eager to learn.

            What impressed me most, however, was the only member of the group who didn't really take to the craft. He struggled with the pattern, but still gave it a good try. Instead of throwing a fit, like many kids his age would (and I could see the emotions that would accompany that written on his face), he tried his best and gave up when it became too frustrating.

            In response to this, where many mothers would scold him and tell him to keep trying, his mother thanked him for giving it a try and doing his best and gave no objection to him returning to playing with Lego (what they’d been doing before the workshop).

            I think this demonstrates one of the major advantages to homeschooling – there is a much greater level of respect and understanding between the parents and their children, since they spend so much more time together. Children are also encouraged to learn and ask questions, but not forced to learn if they don’t want to, which makes them more willing to learn. They even enjoy it! Whereas children in the school system usually rebel and take a great dislike for learning.

            I wonder if there is something our educational system can learn from this. Perhaps there’s away to teach children in large groups while respecting who they are instead of trying to change them to fit the system. It might even make a friendlier society at large.

            Oh, did I mention how polite homeschooled children are? At the end of the workshop, that same boy who had trouble learning made a point of coming up to me and thanking me for coming to teach. I'm looking forward to my next workshop with the group very much.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Anecdotes and Profoundness

            I decided that, this week, I should write something profound.

            Something profound.

            There, now that that’s out of the way, I can get on to other things, such as boring you with pointless anecdotes. Let’s just reach into my memory and pull one out. Ouchouchouch, I said a memory, not my whole brain!

            One feature that has defined me for my entire life is that I'm stubborn. Strong willed, my mother calls it. One thing I've always been a stickler about is only partaking in entertainment I enjoy. For this reason, I started saying of movies and books, “No swords, no magic – no good.” Now, my tastes aren't actually that strictly limited, but it’s a good starting point for understanding what I like.

            In grade 10, I ran into a bit of a problem with this. For the English curriculum, we were required to read and review three books throughout the semester. At least one needed to be fiction and one non-fiction. Wellll, I didn't really like that arrangement, so I did what I felt was the next best thing – I reviewed two fantasy novels and one science fiction. Close enough, right?

            After submitting the final review I waited and waited for the teacher to say something to me about it. She never did. I passed with flying colours and never had to worry about it. I always wondered if she hadn't noticed or if I was just such a great student that she’d let it slide (I still remember when she gave us a grammar quiz to see what we knew – I was the only one who got 100% and she was appalled at how lowly everyone else had scored, so she told me to read a book or do whatever I liked while she taught everyone else how to grammar).

            Two years later, I got the opportunity to ask her. You should have seen the look on her face! I’d managed to slide the fiction reviews past her without her noticing. I can’t remember exactly what she said to me, but I'm sure the word “sneaky” was used.

            The moral of the story is that teachers are busy and don’t have the time or memory to check on minor details, so read whatever you like. Although, I have to admit, the following year my grade 11 English teacher (who had been my Grade 10 Latin teacher and was currently my Grade 11 Latin teacher) put a lot of work in and managed to get me to read a non-fiction book – The Devils’ Horsemen, which was a wonderful book about Genghis Kahn.

            There, I've both shared an anecdote and said something profound. That makes a good blog, right? See you next week!

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Education vs Intelligence

            About a year ago, I had an argument which I've kept on intending to write about and here I am finally getting around to it. The argument was, at its core, about the mass delusion in our world that education bestows intelligence and that intelligence cannot exist without education.

            The argument started with a conversation about my car which, at the time, made rather alarming rattling noises whenever it went over a bump. My brother (an avid car fan his entire life) had diagnosed it as a loose heat shield – a part he has frequently informed me is pretty much useless. No damage was being done, so it wasn't imminently important to fix.

            Now, the person with whom I was conversing took issue with the fact that I was trusting my brother on this for one – and only one – reason: my brother isn't a licensed mechanic. The argument went along the lines of him saying that, without the official training through apprenticeship, my brother isn't qualified to work on cars. My argument, of course, was that my brother took every possible auto course he could in high school and, beyond that, he enjoyed working on cars so much that he could practically take them apart and put them back together again.

            The reply to that was (in my paraphrased version): he hasn't got a piece of paper, therefore he doesn't know what he’s talking about. Masters train apprentices, who then become masters and train their own apprentices. The skills and knowledge are passed down.

            My argument continued to tracing that back to its origins. There wasn't always a master around to teach an apprentice. How did the first master become a master? By doing. The first master learned by trial and error, by taking things apart and putting them back together again – just as my brother had.

            The argument went on and I came to realise just how deep this concept is rooted in our society – more so in the older members, but, as with everything, it trickles down the generations. There is a very solid belief that, without a piece of paper proving your education, your arguments are invalid. Having an education has become synonymous with being intelligent and being intelligent has become impossible without an education.

            What is missed is that education is just training. That piece of paper is just an official statement confirming that you know what you know. That paper is bought with a tuition. It is also possible to cheat to get it. What good does that piece of paper do? Just look at how many people with degrees are working in the fast-food industry.

            Intelligence and knowledge, on the other hand, can come from anywhere – especially in modern times. You can learn anything on the internet. Yes, you need to be careful and ensure that the information you’re receiving is valid, but you can learn it there. There are also libraries full of books and a whole world full of experiences to learn from where knowledge and intelligence can be gleaned without a piece of paper to prove you know it. Some of the most intelligent and successful people in the world didn't even finish school.

            Now, I'm not saying that education is useless. Our education system is flawed, but it does a decent job. It’s the idea that education is the only valid source of knowledge and intelligence that is flawed.

            My brother ended up “temporarily” fixing that noisy heat shield by using zip-ties to hold it in place. When I took the car in for service, I was told, “What he did is working, so we’re going to leave it like that.” Today, those same zip-ties keep my heat shield from rattling around.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.