My new rain boots rock!

In this new installment of the Masked Geek Video Blog, I tell the story of finding my new rain boots. It’s a bit more fun than it sounds, really! Basically, in the end, I wind up getting the perfect, geeky shoes. Can’t tell you more since it’s a surprise in the video! But, yeah, my boots are geeky. My shoes are a comic-book loving girl’s dream. So, go on and watch the video, it takes all of 3 minutes or so. I’m sure you’ve got the time for that!

So yeah, I have Marvel brand shoes! Awesome, huh? Here’s the link if you want to take a look at them again. No, I don’t get paid for this. They don’t seem to have anything else for adults, though. Ah, well.

Small Theater Rocks!

I just saw the most awesome play. Perfect Catch: A Throw-Mantic Comedy just wrapped up at the Canal Park Playhouse in Soho, New York City (sorry if you missed it!). My friend Tim told me about it and we headed out together yesterday. It is one of the many fantastic theater performances that get overshadowed by the big Broadway hits. Not saying the Broadway hits aren’t amazing, but these can be better. And such a great way to get geeky!

I have gone to a few such shows by now. Not all of them in New York. I saw the Axis of Awesome play in a small theater in London. And, believe it or not, one of the best presentations of Hamlet that I ever saw was put on by a small amateur theater company in Phoenix, Arizona. What I enjoy so much about these smaller productions is that they are free to experiment. I have heard of a production where the story takes place in a converted hotel. The audience is free to wonder from room to room, following whichever characters they choose as the actors tell the story. My mother and I went to a similar kind of show, Accomplice. This was a scavenger hunt where all the audience – participants, really – worked together to assemble the clues and tell the story. The clues are dished out by actors at each stop along the puzzle. And the set? New York City itself! We walked from the South Street Seaport through Chinatown and Little Italy, enjoying amazing ad-lib acting along the way. When my mother signed us up, she tried to explain what it was. I said, “Mom, you just signed us up for a LARP! You are the coolest mom ever!”

We all love the great specials and amazing singing and dancing that go with large stage productions. Yet, I don’t think the smaller shows lose any of the power that the bigger budget productions have. It just morphs. The Oooh-Ahhh factor is moved from the great specials to the great imagination.

Perfect Catch: A Throw-Mantic Comedy is a great example of this. It was basically a juggling ballet. Now, I don’t mean these performers were doing pas de chats whilst tossing balls up in the air. I’m using the secondary definition of ballet: “A theatrical presentation of group or solo dancing to a musical accompaniment, usually with costume and scenic effects, conveying a story or theme” (from thefreedictionary). Basically, it tells the story, with little to no dialogue, of two office workers who at first hate each other and then discover love over… juggling!

It was definitely a small-budget production. There were only two actors, to start. Special effects were limited to a smoke machine and creative lighting, including absolutely darkness and light-up juggling balls at one point. The playhouse itself is tiny. Just take a look at the picture I snapped before the show. That fuzzy black bit in the back is a brick wall. The set is a bit restrictive. But that didn’t stop their imagination! The two actors moved furniture around smoothly to make the various sets, pulling juggling balls out of small drawers in the furniture. The black floor and background actually made it easier for us as the audience to fill in the blanks and make a full set in our mind of their respective homes, the office cubicles, a crowded subway, and then the romantic restaurant.

The juggling combined the best street juggling performers you have ever seen – those that make a crowd of 50 clap and then stumble away under the weight of their money-filled top-hats – and some great acting to make the story easy to follow. And it was funny! The music – such as It’s Hip to Be Square – made a great commentary. Though I think my favorite part is when a muppet made an appearance, trying to get in-between our two lovers on a romantic date. During this scene, the actor did some amazing juggling tricks one-handed while the puppet sat on his other hand, picking a fight the whole time. We laughed and applauded like mad!

These smaller plays, thanks to their experimental out-look tend to speak to me a bit more than the larger productions. They are just a bit off the beaten track, so it makes me feel like I’ve discovered a hidden gem every time I see one. Have you found any in your city? What types of hidden delights do you enjoy? Let me know in the comments!

A short story for you

Hello everyone!

I’ve disappeared, I know. I have had a lot going on. You might say, “Don’t we all?” and you’d be right. But here’s a brief catch-up of what I’ve been up to that’s been keeping me away from blogging, and, indeed, writing at all!

• Graduating from my Master’s program
• Moving back to the United States for my new job in New York
• Finding an apartment in New York so I wouldn’t have to sleep under a bridge (scary!)
• Buying all the furniture for my new room (keep in mind, I grew up on HGTV, so everything has to coordinate)
• Starting the new job
• Getting a bit overwhelmed by New York City
• Finally getting my feet under me…

Which leads me to this: a plea asking you to help me write again!

Below here is the first half of a short story, the first of many. It was inspired by my new life here in New York City, but I need someone to keep me honest and keep me writing. That someone is you. Rather than writing a whole novel in my room, all by myself, and hoping you’ll like it, I want to write this story with your help. I’ll upload short stories (really chapters in the bigger story), and you’ll tell me what you think.

Feel free not only to suggest writing improvements but also how to improve the story. Should my main character, Tanya, have an office romance? Should she learn magic? Should she have a side-kick? Let me know what you think and it may wind up in the story. I may be the writer, but this story is written for you! Only natural you have a say!

So without further ado, the modern, street fantasy Under the Bridge (And yes, you can suggest better titles, too!)

You know that feeling when you are just about to sit down in that glorious, comfy chair after a long day working, but then someone knocks on the door?

Yeah, that’s how I felt.

“What do you want?” I hollered through the door, not bothering to look through the peep-hole. You can never see anything through those damn things, anyway.

“Police!” an all too familiar voice replied. He sounded as friendly as I had.

I opened the door. If I didn’t he would just break it down. He had before.

“What do you want?” I asked the plain clothes detective in front of me. I didn’t see Sergeant MacDavies’ partner. Knowing Sergeant Chung, she’d probably decided to wait in the car rather than bug me. It was getting old for me, too.

“Where’s the girl?” MacDavies shoved his rather good looking face in mine. If I hadn’t had an overwhelming desire to give him a black eye, I might have felt embarrassed.

“Which one? My neighbor’s daughter is at her friend’s house, I think. Heard it through the wall, you know these old apartments.” I leaned up against the door jamb, adjusting my bathrobe. I had a pair of comfy pj’s underneath, but I wanted him to think I was naked. Make him uncomfortable. Maybe then he would regret pounding on my door at 10 pm on a Tuesday.

He slammed his hand on the wall, efficiently invading my space. I backed up a step into my apartment, but I almost didn’t. It was a near thing.

I tripped on the uneven floor and stumbled into the bathroom, which was just opposite the front door. Old apartments. Who on Earth designed these things?

I poked my head back out of the small bathroom, adjusted my bathrobe, and tried to pretend that I hadn’t just landed on the toilet.

MacDavies hadn’t entered my apartment. But I could tell he wanted to. Lucky for me he generally goes by the book. I hadn’t invited him in, so he couldn’t come in. Warrants and all that. Honestly, some days I think the police have too much in common with vampires, and yet he thinks I’m the monster.

“The girl who disappeared in Central Park not five blocks from here,” MacDavies said. He didn’t miss a beat, that one.

“Then find her,” I said, “That’s your job, right? You do work in Missing Persons, right?”

“You’re connected,” he slammed my wall again.

I winced. MacDavies is strong. Old apartments aren’t known for incredibly sturdy walls.

“Why would you say that?”

“Just tell me where she is!” he growled, “Her parents are worried. Give me this kidnapper! I don’t think you did it, but you’re protecting who did.”

I sighed, thoroughly enjoying how my uncaring attitude was making him seethe, “I can’t give you someone I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a lie, depending on your definition of “know.”

“You’ve returned the children from five kidnapping cases. How can you tell me you don’t know where they are?”

“Correction,” I stuck my index finger in his face, “Returning means I would have had to have them at some point. I found them. It was over a year ago. I just got lucky.”

He slammed the wall yet again, shaking the small prints I had hung on my side in my apartment. “Hey! You break it you’re paying for it!” They weren’t expensive pieces of art, just the prints you can buy off of street vendors, but I liked them and their little glass frames.

Without another word he turned and stomped down the stairs of my 5 story walk-up. I had stopped bringing the missing kids to the precinct station hoping to avoid scenes like this. Instead, I called in anonymous tips. Most of the policemen thought I was a good citizen who had had a string of luck, but not MacDavies. He was convinced those anonymous tips were still coming from me. He’d even tried to get a warrant to see who was calling in tips. I guess the word “anonymous” doesn’t mean much to him.

As soon as the front door slammed behind him, my neighbor’s door opened. “Again, hon?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Caro,” I sighed, this time for real.

“I don’t know why that officer always thinks you are to blame,” Caroline proclaimed. She sounded just like TV pastor, all exaggerated syllables and hand waving. “You’re a hero! You’re the one who found those poor babies.”

“Yeah, well, you tell him that for me. Next time he comes up here,” I smiled, raising my eyebrow at her.

“Oh no you don’t!” Caroline wagged her finger at me, “He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot to handle. I’ll just enjoy watching from the sidelines.”

I laughed, “Whatever you say, Caro,” and went back into my apartment.

I looked down at my comfy chair in my sparsely furnished kitchen/living room combo. I call it that. In reality it’s a slightly-larger-than-average kitchen. Just enough room for a breakfast table set for two, my comfy chair, and bookshelf to stick a TV on. I had a Star Wars DVD already ready to play. Just had to press “Start.”

I turned off the TV as I passed into my room. Equally small, the room had just enough space for a twin bed, a small armoire, and a small chest of drawers. It wasn’t a very tidy room, either. I grabbed the jeans I had worn during the day – still slung on the bed. I didn’t change my top. Why? Wasn’t as though I was going to take off my coat in this bone-chilling wind.

Caroline hadn’t closed her door, so she saw me from her couch as I turned all three locks on my front door.

“Where are you going, hon?”

“I realized I don’t have anything for breakfast!” I laughed at my own stupidity.

“Just get something in the morning. There’s a café right outside the subway, and it’s cold out there. And I mean cold!” She said.

I shook my head. “I can’t leave on time in the morning when everything goes right. I’ll never make it into work if I have to wait on line at a Starbucks. Besides,” I tugged my scarf and gestured at my hat with my gloved hands, “I’m covered.”

“Suit yourself, hon,” Caroline, settled back in to watch her show. Sounded like some late-night TV talk show or other.

I tromped down the stairs, steeled myself, and opened the front door. Caroline had not been joking. It was cold out there. I could see my breath in the air in front of me. At least it wasn’t wet. It wasn’t even Halloween yet, but Winter was already being felt.

I glanced up at the cloudless sky. “Who’s moved to town, I wonder? Lady Anyiana or Lord Mystion?” I shook my head. It was just an unseasonal cold front. Perfectly logical and explainable.

I looked both ways down the street. A Duane Reade sat in one direction, all glowing advertisements and big windows. In the other direction were a few stores and late night cafés. That’s the way I headed.

I didn’t need cereal. I needed answers. Children were going missing in the park. That could mean quite a few things, but if MacDavies was getting angry enough to bang on my door, it meant that it wasn’t the usual suspects.

So I had to look were MacDavies couldn’t.

I passed the first two cafés I came to. They were full of Cornell students and artsy folk. I stopped in front of the third one. The store’s sign read Coffee Break in red neon lights over a brown and blue coffee mug, again outlined in neon. It was nowhere near as crowded as the other cafes, just a few locals.

I opened the door to a lovely chime of sea glass that Joe, the owner, had picked up on the beaches of Maine. I waved at one of the other regulars sitting by the door. He raised his mug in recognition but didn’t look up from his book, a thick tome on some esoteric subject, as usual. He always had his nose stuck in some dusty old book.

“Hey, Tanya! The usual?” Joe asked from behind the bar. He wiped his hands on his stained off-white apron, preparing to make my latte.

“Not tonight, Joe. Sorry,” I said, “Can I have a cookie instead?”

“A cookie? For that poor boy?” he asked, “Of course,” He reached into his display and pulled out a large chocolate chip cookie, stuck it in a plain brown paper sack and handed it to me. The Coffee Break isn’t known for its pastries, but Joe does bake some great cookies.

“Thanks, Joe. Mike really does appreciate this.” I saw a young woman in the back give me a funny look as I turned away from the till without paying. Gifts for the “poor boy” were free for me, but she probably thought I was just getting preferential treatment. Which I was.

I went back into the cold, shivering as I felt my nose slowly turn into an icicle. I had to walk another long city block west before I reached my destination. This block was much darker than the last one had been. Mostly old tenement buildings now populated by people paying too much for way too little space, usually shared. It was not the type of neighborhood I usually enjoyed walking around at 10pm at night. In fact, I didn’t tend to come to this area even in daylight. There was just nothing there.

At the next street corner, illuminated by a single street lamp, I found my destination. It was a small children’s park that was originally an empty lot on the corner. Some enterprising soul had transformed it many years back into a pleasant place for kiddies to get their ya yas out. Since then it has fallen on hard times. The playground equipments’ paint was almost entirely flaked off. One of the swings was broken, hanging by a single chain, the second one long since disappeared.

I stood under the streetlight for a moment, peering into the shadows of the playground. It wouldn’t be good to be surprised by someone hiding there. The last time I had visited this park, I had stumbled across a druggie, high on something. He had thought I was the police and tried to attack me. Luckily no one got hurt, but it had not been pleasant.

This time there were no surprises for me. Sitting on the only remaining swing, well out of direct light, was the boy I was looking for. Mike could always be found in this play ground. It was an important place for him. It was where he had been snatched.

“Hey,” I called out as I approached. The darkness made everything monotone, but Mike would not have had much color to him even right under the street light. He was very pale and seemed to be about 10 years old. His faded little t-shirt was way too light for this weather. But he didn’t feel the cold anymore.

Mike didn’t say anything. There was no point until I got closer. Ghosts can’t exactly yell.

“What do you want?” He asked, much as I had done earlier that night, actually.

“Hey,” I raised my hands in innocence, “I come bearing gifts. Cut me a little slack.”

“No, you come bearing bribes,” he said, “Why don’t you ever come with any alcohol?” He gestured to a bench further into the park, slid off the swing and led the way there. I sat down. He kind of floated over it.

“Yeah, well, I’d feel weird giving booze to a kid,” I shrugged.

“I’ve seen more years than you,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, well, you still look like a kid.” I slipped the cookie out of the sleeve and held it up in front of his face, horizontal to the ground.

He leaned forward and made to take a bite of the cookie. Then another, and another, steadily moving down until I had to move my hands or get bit. It was like watching any other child eat a big chocolate chip cookie, fast and with gusto, except that this child couldn’t actually consume the cookie. He didn’t affect it at all. He was eating a memory. The cookie’s presence helped him trick himself into tasting something that was only there in his mind.

When he was done, bouncing up and down on the bench, still sitting in the air just an inch above the seat, I slipped the cookie back into its sleeve and tucked it in my pocket.

“So,” I said, “What do you know of a girl disappearing in Central Park near here?”

“Ah, should have figured that was why you came,” Mike smiled.

“I don’t only come when children are missing,” I said defensively.

“No, you also come when there are murders.”

Well, he had me there. Mike was my informant on the ugly. Whether it was a murder or a kidnap, Mike would know about it. As the victim of both, he seemed to have a grisly fascination with the subject. And he’d had 50 more years than me to perfect his sleuthing skills.

Being a ghost helped, though. He could walk right into the local police station and even the most sensitive people would probably just think he was a draft. If you ask me, it’s an unfair advantage.

“Well,” he said, staring off into space for a moment, “There were five kidnappings yesterday in Manhattan.”

“No, this would have been last week, I think. Usually takes that long for MacDavies to pound on my door.”

“Does he really wait that long? By that point most of the kids are already dead. What’s the point in investigating after that?”

“Catch the killers?” I suggested, “Don’t you wish they had caught yours?”

Mike shrugged, “Why? I was already dead.” He paused, scrunching his tiny lips up in thought. He would have grown up to be a goofy looking teen but an okay looking man. Shame. “Okay, there was a girl who disappeared in the park, but it dropped off my radar. It wasn’t a normal kidnap and frankly, I thought the girl had just run away. Not interesting, so I didn’t investigate. But If MacDavies is pounding on your door, it means the girl hasn’t been found. She was too young to have made it far, so that means this case just got interesting again.”

“What do you mean?” I had to ask, but I didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Well, it means that this is in our territory, doesn’t it?” he said, his eyes glowing with a light from beyond the grave. “If a girl of 7 had just run away, they would have found her by now. If it had been a normal kidnapping, even with murder chucked in, I would have heard about it. Add in that MacDavies is knocking on your door? This is one of the more interesting ones.”

I slouched down in my seat and groaned. I had really hoped Mike would say that this was a parental kidnapping or other rather run-of-the-mill crime. “Is death so boring that you get excited over odd kidnappings?”

Mike laughed, “Give it a go sometime and you’ll understand.”

“Pass. I take it you’ll investigate?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “You might only visit when you have a case, but you do bring really good cookies.”

“And you don’t like seeing dead kids,” I added for him.

“Not my favorite, no, but honestly, they’re usually dead by this time. Or worse. Still, I’ll check out the police station and see what I can find out. I’ll visit you tomorrow night right after sundown with what I find out.” He looked out past the chain link fence of the park into the darkness down the street. “Keep your eyes peeled, Tayla.” With that he was gone. Ghosts don’t say goodbye. Everyone’s already said goodbye to them, but they don’t feel like saying it back yet. That’s why they’re ghosts.

“Thanks,” I said to the air as I peered down the street.

I have exceptional eye sight. Darkness generally doesn’t bother me at all, so I was rather surprised to find that I had completely overlooked Detective MacDavies’ car parked another long block down the street under a broken street light. I generally notice these things, but I guess Mike had distracted me.

I exited the park and walked down the street to the car. No point in not being friendly. As I walked I slipped my hand in my pocket and brought out the chocolate chip cookie. I took a big bite and savored the chocolate chunks. I know it was a gift for the “poor boy” but he’d had his fun. No use wasting a perfectly good cookie.

The cookie was gone by the time I reached the small brown sedan. MacDavies had rolled down the window for me.

“Good evening officer,” I said, brushing the crumbs off my mittens.

He didn’t say anything in reply.

“Where’s Sergeant Chung?” I bent over to take a look at the empty passenger seat.

“She went home,” MacDavies grunted.

I shivered a bit as the wind picked up. “Yeah, well, smart woman. What are you following me around for?”

“What are you going to a derelict park by yourself for?” he replied.

“That park?” I glanced over my shoulder at the distant street light thinking of how to respond. I couldn’t tell him I’d gone there to chat with a ghost kid, after all. Yet some bit of the truth would work, I supposed. “About 50 years ago a young boy named Mike Donald was snatched from that park, right from under his mother’s nose. He was found a week later, dead, in Central Park. The newspapers at the time reported that it had been a grisly scene. You came to me with the story of another missing child. I couldn’t sleep, so I came here to think.”

“Odd choice of thinking spots,” MacDavies peered at me through the open window.

“Odd choice of parking spots,” I replied, “Look, it’s cold. Mind giving me a lift back to my apartment?”

MacDavies growled something wordless. God, I loved to piss him off!

“Don’t worry about it,” I laughed, “just don’t follow me anymore. If you do, I’ll expect to see a warrant, or I’ll go to your superiors with a charge of harassment.”

MacDavies growled again at my back as I walked off. Sometimes I had to wonder if he knew how to speak properly. I heard his car peel away down the street. My hearing is just as good as my eye sight so I was pretty certain he had stopped following me.

I honestly had really wanted him to give me a lift, though. I had five blocks to cover to get back to my apartment. The long blocks between avenues, too. The neighborhood isn’t nice most of the way, but really I had just wanted to sit in front of his car’s heater. I had been in the thing before, so I know that that heater is a really good one. And it was cold. The wind was sharp as ice.

I hate cold.

 

Game of Thrones Book Review

Dover Castle Exhibit

Okay, I literally just finished Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin. An incredibly well-written book that is just shy of being amazing. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s good. Really good. I am definitely getting the next one. But it just didn’t give me the “Oh my God! I have to read that next page! What happens next?” feeling I love so much.

First what Martin did very well.

Great Things:

White Cliffs of Dover. Cliff hanger = cliffs!

Characterization It’s really hard to make 3D characters. And it’s much harder to make people love them. And I do love Martin’s characters. I loved how serious Lord Eddard is. Same goes for his son, Robb Stark. The boy changes drastically throughout the story as he grows up fast. Though I must say, my favorite characters are two of Eddard’s other children: his bastard son, Jon Snow, and his youngest daughter, Arya Stark. Jon wears his status as a bastard as a mark of shame while simultaneously taking pride in his father and his father’s house. Arya is a girl after my own heart. She’d rather play at swords than needlework. And so far I’ve just praised the Stark characters. I haven’t touched Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, a dwarf and son of a rival house. You spend the entire book wondering if he is a friend or foe. Until you realize that nothing is that clear cut.

Cliff Hangers Martin sure does love his cliffies. The book is structured by chapters, each from the point of view of one of eight characters. This is very useful from a story-telling perspective; the story takes place in multiple places at once. In fact the story of one of the point-of-view characters, Daenerys, takes place on an entirely different continent than any of the others. What happens to her is not immediately connected to the action of, say, John Snow. So that means that as the book moves on each character gets a cliffy at least once. And you have to read all the other POV characters’ bits before you get to find out what happened. Oh, and you might not get to find out before the end of the book. Very frustrating, Mr. Martin.

Dover Castle Exhibit

Realism In so many high sword and sorcery novels, knights are pretty and smell okay if not like roses, the armor tends to work for the good guys at least, and horses can run for days. Not to mention the food is decent at inns and the cold is always left outside at a castle’s door thanks to a few tapestries on the walls, if that. Not in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire. Knights get described as smelling of sweat and leather, both good and bad have chinks in their armor, horses die of exhaustion, the food at inns is described as what I imagine it would actually be – sucky – and castles are cold with rushes and dogs on the floor. Realism. In a sword and sorcery novel. I know. Amazing. But don’t stop there! The most of the characters in the novel don’t even believe in magic. Oh, the book has instances of it. But  Martin uses it sparingly, making the impact of it that much greater.

But here are the things I thought detracted from the book.

Detractors:

ComplexityThis makes the book interesting, but it also slows it down. This book is a wild goose chase with characters each hurrying this way and that, each trying to get at some goal. Martin describes palace intrigue in detail. It’s suspenseful, but confusing. And if it is confusing, it is tiring. The book is long, too, clocking in at 789 pages on my Nook Book. Just as you are getting the hang of one of the story-lines, you get switched to another POV character. There are a lot of characters to keep straight, too. Sure, Martin does a good enough job making sure that all the important people are introduced and characterized, but then there are all the peripheral lords and ladies. He had to include an appendix to help us readers keep them straight.

Roman ruins at Dover Castle

Cliff Hangers I know. I said they were good. And they are. But with this many POV characters, I just want to know what happens to Arya and Jon! When I was younger, I would read ahead in books, often ruining books for myself as I found out the story in the wrong order. I’ve gotten over that, but I still don’t like waiting to find out what happens. The worst part about cliffies is that you don’t know when you’ll find out the resolution. I love page-turners where each page is a cliffy and you know the resolution is on the next page, so you turn. But with Game of Thrones you don’t get to see the resolution if you turn the page. The only ways to find out when the resolution is make it tempting to read ahead. You can either a) flip ahead (Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!) or you check the table of contents (Danger! Danger!) to see when the POV character will appear again. So what’s the incentive to turn the page if you know you have to get up and go to work in a half-hour? Yes, you still want to know what happens in the over-all plot, but the incentive is just that tiny bit less.

Conclusion Excellent book. Definitely getting the next one. Definitely loved it. But was it in the rank with my favorite books of all time? No. Sorry.

Fans Writing Essays: Why a fandom over-analyzes

by AshWilliams on theotaku.com

I love over-analyzing things. My favorite class in high school was English Lit because I was given blatant permission to read the greatest emotions in the smallest actions. I always thought business school was lame compared to that one task.

And then I realized that you don’t have to read literature in order to do that. You can read manga. You read that correctly. Manga.

Ichigo Kurosaki by ItachiSasuke on theOtaku.com

Specifically the manga Bleach by Tite Kubo. It’s one of my favorites. I particularly love the semi-romance between Ichigo Kurosaki, the main character, and Rukia Kuchiki, the female lead. I’m not alone. Just type in “IchiRuki,” the code-term for this particular ship, and you’ll return hundreds, if not thousands, of results.

And some of those results will be essays. Full-blown, cited-pages and analyzed-quote essays. The type you would find on a high school English teacher’s desk. Obviously, these little blog-posts of mine could be considered essays, but I’d rather think of them as rants. I air my thoughts and invite you to read them. What the IchiRuki fans are doing is making a thesis, generally that Ichigo loves Rukia and vice versa, finding quotes and manga images that support this, and then going to town with analysis and general scholarship to prove it.

Rukia Kuchiki by ChibiHanyou on theOtaku.com

Here are some of my favorite examples:

• This essay is about how the relationship of the two main characters evolved as the story progressed
• This essay compares two story arcs, one where Ichigo must save Rukia and the other where he must save another female friend
• And finally this essay uses shojou (girl’s manga) tropes and how they are used in Bleach (a boy’s manga) to prove that the relationship is, indeed, romantic

WTF. I mean, who does homework for fun? Particularly adults. I’m sure that not all of these fans are in high school. I know I’m not, at least.

So, since we’re all agreed that writing essays for fun is a tad weird, let’s discuss why this is.

1. Fans Like to Think They Are Smart

Ichigo and Rukia by PandaMoon on theOtaku.com

I wont debate whether they are or not, but I think that, in general, we have an inflated sense of our own intelligence. This is true of several genre fans, such as fantasy and science fiction fans. (I’ll write another post on this, if you think I’m crazy.) I think that because we are slightly stigmatized by the mass majority of people we feel the need to think that we are better in at least one way. Of course, I also think that we are slightly more intelligent. Or at least I am. I don’t know about you. Just joking.

Writing essays links in to this. After all, if you can make a point and prove it, you are pretty smart, right? We learn that one in school when all the smart kids got good grades on their essays and got to feel cool for a second.

2. Obsession Leads Us to Do Odd Things

Rukia by sexysesshomaru on theOtaku.com

If you are reading this, chances are there is at least one thing you are a mega fan of. For me, it’s fantasy, which includes Bleach. For you it might be sci-fi anime. Hell, it might even be Bleach itself.

The people who write these essays are definitely obsessed, but not in a bad way. They’re not out stalking people (I hope), and they probably have jobs and families that they see regularly. They merely like something so much that they want more. Unfortunately, thanks to the way that most anime, novels, and television shows come out, there are gaps in time when the fans must wait for more story. So how can a fan keep engaged with his or her favorite story during this time? Well, writing essays for a start.

3. They Have Something to Argue About

Orihime Inoue by ms kaiba shiffer on theOtaku.com

I haven’t mentioned this yet because I didn’t want it to distract from my other points about how fandoms can work, but those three essays listed above are doing more than just over-analyzing a piece of pop-fiction. They are crafting an argument. Here’s an example essay of the opposing argument, which centers around another potential love-match for Ichigo, with the female character Orihime Inoue. She’s the one he had to rescue in the second rescue arc mentioned above.

A bit of competition can always lead to a string of one-upmanship. And that’s exactly what we have here with both ships crafting essays and lobbing them at each other like pirates firing canon balls at sea. Still, points one and two also have something to do with how this fight has taken shape, as essays rather than as fan-fiction (though there is a fair amount of that as well).

What other reasons do you think that a group of pop-culture fans would sit down and craft well-thought out essays?

Mythology, Marvel Comics, and Lines on People Faces

I had so enjoyed my first American comic, Batman and Robin: Batman Reborn, that I wanted to give the next one a go. Of course, when I have my heart set on a particular comic, the comic book store doesn’t have it! I couldn’t just leave without a comic, though. The promise of a comic had been the carrot at the end of the stick after a hard work week. I needed my reward.

I hunted the shelves for something that resembled an origin story until I finally found one, Thor: First Thunder. I thought, what the heck? I had read a DC book first, so now it was time for Marvel. I had also seen the movie just recently and know a bit about Norse mythology. I could figure it all out.

I was a bit worried about the Norse mythology, though. After all, in an American comic book, how faithful to the Norse myths would they be? Turns out, not very much, but they have enough allusions to the real deal to make me happy. For instance, they recognize that Loki wasn’t just a god of evil, but also a god of mischief, which is my favorite version of him. They also have a nice Rainbow Bridge into Asgard, the land of the gods. Unfortunately, Heimdall, the guardian of that Rainbow Bridge, has two eyes. In Norse mythology, Loki stole one of them. Ah well, it is an American comic. Can’t expect too much.

Other than that, the artwork still puts me off of American comics. I thought that maybe the odd lines on people’s faces was just a Grant Morrison thing in Batman and Robin, but nope. Thor has lines on his face, too. Same goes for the fact that characters are all nicely confined to their boxes. No jumping out or using that odd no-man’s land outside in the margins, so common in manga. At least I’m used to the color. I guess I’ll get used to the other stuff, too.

As for the story of this comic: great. I liked it. Nothing so terribly amazing, but it was poignant and fast-paced. Really liked the characterization of Thor and Donald Blake. I enjoyed reading Blake’s narration of Thor’s fighting. I think I’ll buy another Thor comic.

I’ll get into American comics yet!

Geek All Over London!

Yesterday I ran all over London, letting the geek out every step of the way. I was participating in LOTNA’s London Conundrum, a puzzle game set all over the city. Most of the puzzles were trivia, but some were word searches and mazes in handy London Conundrum Puzzle Books, here shown off by Conundrum Organizer Kelly.

The day started with a picnic in Regents Park where we made more World of Warcraft allusions than I could count, including, but not limited to, how awesome it would be if real life had a minimap so I can find the little café hidden in the park without getting lost. But as the WoW jokes died down we were split into groups. Mine was the best, of course.

And so began the hunt! We were given clever little puzzles in order to find out where to go at each phase. They were little squares of paper with cut-out holes that, if held up correctly against another little square of paper with the names of science fiction characters and story titles listed on it, would reveal a jumble of letters. By spinning the puzzle around we would eventually find the right jumble of letters that, when arranged into words, would match up with quadrants on a map, which was a just slightly larger square of paper. The last step would be to take the paper with the holes punched into it and place it over the map. One of the holes would be in the designated quadrant and reveal our next destination. Oh, and while the little square of paper with holes in it could be flipped every way and even turned over in relation to the other little paper with names on it, it was always placed in the same orientation over the map. The little square of paper with cutout holes had the LOTNA logo, Lotty, drawn on it, and the map’s border was actually a continuation of the logo. The two images had to line up.

Confused yet? I was.

But we managed to figure it out and head to many cool destinations. Our activities included just sitting around to solve a puzzle book with questions like “What was Captain Mal’s nick name?” (Meanwhile we were only shown a picture of the captain, so we had to guess who the character pictured was. Luckily, I went through a period of Firefly obsession, so this one was easy – Captain Tight Pants!) Other times it was spelling “Harry Potter” with our bodies in front of King’s Cross’s Platform 9 ¾ . We even acted out a scene from Dr. Who by the Millennium Bridge. Being the American, I played President Nixon. Gender blind casting, but not accent blind. But even amidst all this geekery, I still managed to take some great snapshots of amazing London landmarks.

On our way to the London Eye for one of the Puzzles

Big Ben

In the end, my team won! I wish it was due to our amazing trivia knowledge, and while that wasn’t so bad, the other teams actually got tired and wound up just skipping the puzzles in favor of the pub. Some might call this intelligence. But I’ll still be proud of making it through the London Conundrum!

The British Library is Out of this World

Science Fiction as a legitimate genre of literature, not just an entertainment for the geek, has long been relegated to the back of the class. If it isn’t historical, set in the modern era, or somehow otherwise deals in the cold, hard now (aka dull), it just doesn’t seem to interest scholars.

Which is why when I heard about the free exhibit at the British Library called Out of This World, I had to go. It wasn’t a choice. As a reader of science fiction and fantasy (though admittedly more of the fantasy than the science fiction), I have been waging a war against those who take my favorite genres lightly since I was a child of 8. I remember once hearing that science fiction and fantasy are both about the same thing, people placed in surreal situations and how they respond. Science fiction just explains the surreal with science. Fantasy uses magic. The main thing is that they are discussing people and making a commentary on the human state. Tell me what’s not “serious and literary” about that?

This is the entry-way sculpture!

The exhibit does a great job of bringing this home. Though there were some fun elements, they somehow made X-Men comics and a Superman pop-up book seem serious and significant. They organized the various books around themes like “end of the world” or “meeting the alien.” By doing so they illustrated how the fiction element really allowed the authors to deal with societal and philosophical questions like how human beings would either deal with their own destruction or bring it about and how we deal with the strange, generally referencing other cultures through fictitious aliens. I think my favorite was the section on utopias and dystopias; maybe the most “serious” of all categories since it deals so specifically with the human potential to screw up and often with an agenda based on real world politics. It is also one of the most common themes in my library, at least. I just finished reading Jack Chalker’s Dancing Gods series. Especially in the last book when (close your eyes, kids, it’s a spoiler!) one of the main characters is reduced to slavery because a Rule says Dancers are slaves, the book deals heavily with dystopias and the question “which is better? Is this really as bad as it can get?” (Yes, this is a fantasy book, but I’ll just go back to my foundation that fantasy and science fiction are one in the same. They get put on the same bookshelves in Borders.)

Besides the X-Men and Superman, I did see quite a few books or comics that I recognized. Obviously there was George Orwell and H.G. Wells. But there was also a rather large dash of Japanese work around the room. Ghost in the Shell and Doraemon both making an appearance, amongst others. I spotted the Matrix and 2001: A Space Odyssey, as well. I was surprised, however, to not see any Star Wars. I know it was not a great literary leap forward, but it would have made the geeks happy, at least. I suppose the Dr. Who references were the British substitute? Or maybe I just missed it.

“It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.” – Star Trek

Even though the exhibit made the genre seem a lot heftier than it usually gets credit for, it wasn’t dusty and dull, either. There was a little Millionaire-style trivia game (I lost), entertaining quotes on the walls like the one above, and even a robot that will occasionally spout trivia, when he’s not sleeping. There is the Dr. Who’s telephone booth, and the required auditory exhibits. For once the headphones work, and you can even turn them off by pressing the play button again. I heard the Orson Wells War of the Worlds radio broadcast and a radio broadcast of a rather peeved and board robot out of the Hitchhiker’s Guide. Made me laugh. Some of the music even made me dance.

One thing is for sure, I will be back. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but it got my mind abuzz with ideas. Some of them half-formed. I have a feeling that when I start my new story, I’ll be coming back here for some inspiration from my forefather’s in writing.

What Would Your Superpower Be?

This is my favorite question to puzzle when I’m going through a lovely bout of insomnia. There are so many juicy ones to choose from. And it doesn’t necessarily have to be a comic book thing. Piers Anthony’s Xanth series of fantasy novels has this element as well. Each human has a magical ability, from “dot on the wall” uselessness to “can transform anyone into anything else” magician-class. It’s a great concept. That’s why it’s stuck around so long.

So here are my top ten favs. Some are blatantly stolen from current superheroes. Some I heard from friends. And some, well, I made up. I do that.

10. Be the 10^th Best in Anything

I got this one from a nice guy I met at a LOTNA meet up. It’s a variable power. In any situation, he could decide to be 10^th best in ____. So, for instance, he’s surrounded by mad ninjas. Well, kabaam! He’s the 10^th best martial artist in the world and knocks them all flat. Locked up by the evil villain? Not anymore! 10^th best escape artist in the world. He can even outdo McGuyver! Why only the 10^th best and not the best? His answer: you have to keep it interesting. Can’t make the superhero too powerful.

Honestly, I think this one is pretty good, so I probably would have stuck it higher up my list. But I couldn’t resist the number thing.

9. Explode Stuff

If you’ve ever met me, you know I love movies where things go boom. It’s just that simple.

8. Teleportation

There are so many times when I hear my Tube train coming into the platform, and I’m just far enough away not to be able to make it. Of course, there are many different types of teleportation. I’m going to go for the “can be anywhere you’ve ever been once before” variety. In this case, though, why am I taking the Tube?

This one was suggested by one of my very punctual roommates. Of course, if you had this power, you wouldn’t need the next one on the list.

7. Speed

by JD Hancock on Flickr

Think either The Flash or Speedy Gonzales and you’ve got it. (Now wouldn’t that be a mash-up: “Speedy Gonzales as the Flash!” Think we’ll ever convince Warner Bros and DC to give it a go?). I got this one from another fellow at LOTNA. He did make a pretty good point though: whoever has this power should also have a necessary secondary ability of registering roadblocks really quickly. So, you know, he can miss baby buggies trundling down the road. That sort of thing.

6. Time Travel

I think being on time is now a theme on this list with this entry. If you are running late, just arrive when you can, dial back the clock, and no one will know. This particular ability also makes room for lovely plot devices like time paradoxes. But if I go back in time, I would not kill my parents. Oh no. I would tell them to buy Google stock.

5. Self-Transformation

by sean_oliver on Flickr

No, I’m not snagging this from Beast Boy. I’m taking it from Dolph, a character in the Xanth books who has the same ability, but is not green. Honestly, I just read Xanth before I had even heard of Beast Boy. Why do I place this particular ability so high? Because it would just be cool to fly. And then swim. And then burrow. And then buzz. And then hibernate. And then…

4. Predict the Future

I think this would be a combat superpower. After all, if I know where someone is going to punch, then I just have to not be there. This superpower offers a lot of interesting story plots by interpreting as not the ability to see what will definitely happen but rather see a string of potential futures and then judge the most likely one.

3. Telepathy

from Wikipedia

Yes, this one is à la Professor X. Why do I place such an over done ability so high up my list? Two reasons:

1. Because I thought James McAvoy was really good in the movie as Charles Xavier. I don’t know what it was. I though he acted really well and the character just came alive for me… and I thought he was cute.
2. Because I like the idea of controlling people with my mind, as you will see farther down the list.

2. Invulnerable to Other Superpowers/Magic

I’m adapting this from a few different sources, but yes, I think this ability would rock. Particularly as a superhero ability. All those evil villains would not know what to do. “What do you mean I can’t hit him with my death ray eye beams?!”

1. Hypnosis

by steve_lodefink on Flickr

And at the top of the list is the ability to outright control people. Yes, I always wanted to be a Jedi. I also like getting my way. This ability could take a few forms. The superhero might have to look the people in the eyes to get control. Maybe it’s voice activated and everyone who hears her speak is in her spell, or maybe it’s just mind control like Professor X. I’d be perfectly happy with all of them together except I think it would make the superhero a bit too super for any villain to even want to tackle.

What are your favorites?

My First American Comic Book

This video is about my very first American comic book and about the transition from being an exclusively manga reader to reading American comics. If you don’t want to watch the video, here is the general gist of what I talk about.

I recently purchased my very first American comic book. I am in my early 20’s, so this does make one wonder: why on Earth did I buy my first comic now?

I have been a comic reader since I was 14. In high school, I would buy a graphic novel once a week if I could scrounge up the cash. But I always purchased a manga. It was easy to jump into manga. You could always find issue number one. The only way to find issue number one of an American comic is to have a few grand to spend away.

But, as I say in the video, I’ve been on something of a Batman craze recently. Just can’t get enough. Which is why I bought Batman and Robin: Batman Reborn. Batman’s dead, Dick Grayson, the original Robin, is now taking his mentor’s place, and the twerp Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s lost son, is now Robin. In other words, it’s a new team and a new beginning. I could jump right in.

As a long-time manga reader, I had more than just DC’s Gotham to get used to. Here’s what I noticed:

• Color! This doesn’t happen in manga.
• Lines on people’s faces. I get that it’s supposed to show the nitty-gritty of Gotham, but manga has much cleaner art.
• Everything stays in its boxes. In manga, things tend to ignore the boxes when they can.
• Thin! Manga is thicker. These books are thinner. I guess they are on diets?

All that said, I’ll be buying the next one.