Journal Entry: Sketch Comedy Night

I had two dreams this morning that, upon later consideration, both ended with a punchline that really read like sketch comedy. I thought I'd share them with you, for a peek into a mind that is always trying to build stories, not just settle for simulated experience.

First, "Setting a Trap":
Daniel and Trish and I are questing in World of Warcraft. Not playing World of Warcraft, mind. We're in the game. We're sneaking around in what feels like a fairly low-level area. At one point we're huddled behind some brush and Daniel points to the open land just beyond.

"We've got to be careful here," he says. "This whole area is rife with dangerous Druids, and Hippies, and Romantics. Any one of them could kill us. But that crossroads up there," I look where he's pointing and there's a crossroads, with a single stop sign facing us. Just, a regular red stop sign like you'd see on any street in the U. S. Well, in Arkansas I should say, because it's completely riddled with bullet holes.

Dan resumes, "That crossroads is a dangerous trap. Hunters come from miles around to camp this crossroads. They kill anyone who comes close."

"What we need," says I, "is a trap! Some way to take out our enemies, and get out of here."

"Oh no!" groans Daniel, "What is she doing now?"

I look where he's looking, and Trish is standing (all crouchy, like she's trying to be stealthy) next to the sign. While we watch she finishes whatever she's doing and comes back to us. We hold our breath the whole time, but she gets back to us unshot.

When she arrives, she smiles a big smile and says, "Well, that should solve all our problems! We'll just lure all the Druids, and Hippies, and Romantics here, and let the Hunters take them out for us!"

So we look back at the stop sign, and she's painted a butterfly and a little pink heart on it.

*wah waaaaah*

(Hey, I didn't say any of it was good comedy.)

Second, "Art Theory":
Trish and I are wandering through the Musee d'Orsay in Paris, looking at all the art and discussing Impressionism in general. I asked her about Impressionism in other media, starting with sculpture and she told me about some of the different techniques sculptors developed out of the basic ideas of Impressionism.

As we're wandering down some long corridor, I ask her, "What about music? How do you get pastel colors into music?"

Trish thought about it for a moment, and said, "I don't know, but I imagine it would sound something like John Mayer."

Ah hahaha! Okay, that one had me laughing.

Greatness: "Othering"

In college, I took a class called "Search for the American Identity: Race, Class, and Gender." It may have been called "Quest for the American Identity," (that's how I remember it), but that's probably just my Fantasy Lit slant on things. Probably "Search."

Anyway, as part of the "Race" segment, we read several articles on the topic of "Othering," that is, pursuing cultural practices that isolate the participant's community from another community, preventing integration and emphasizing differences between the communities. The ancient Greeks were experts at this -- y'know the word "barbarian" which we use to this day? It's from the Greek meaning, "Someone who isn't Greek." But they applied it in exactly the way we do today.

"Othering" is the concept behind the phrase, "those people," as in, "you know how those people are...."

It is, of course, highly poisonous. It teaches us to think of ourselves as real people, and Others as not-quite-real-people. Whatever it is that makes them Other is also what keeps them from being real people.

Interestingly, the Covenant of the Old Testament sort of inverted Othering, providing the Hebrews with a set of cultural practices specifically designed to set them apart from the communities they encountered. From within, the Jews were just as racist as the rest of us, looking out at the Gentiles in precisely the way the Greeks looked at the barbarians, but looking back on the Old Testament, many of the cultural laws seem specifically designed to promote Othering by Gentile communities, which may well have been a large part of God's design for the establishment of a chosen people.

That's not my point, though. That's just an aside.

One of the many articles we read in that section focused on Othering in Hip Hop music. Specifically, that Hip Hop is published, promoted by, and consumed by the White Man, as an Othering form of entertainment that allows us to look down on black culture even as we are creating it.

I've been thinking about that more and more lately -- mostly because I finally have a significant commute to work, which is the only time I actually listen to music of any sort. I have been listening a lot to Hip Hop (okay, it sounds silly, yes, and it looks silly in type, especially capitalized, but that's the name -- I don't really listen to Rap), and I'm seeing more and more what that article was talking about.

I keep thinking of the Eddie Murphy sketch where he went in full costume as a white dude. Near the end of the sketch, he's sitting in a bank talking with a loan officer, and they're both laughing, and Eddie says, "Hahaha! Silly negro!" That's kinda the effect you get sometimes, listening to Hip Hop. That, or, "They really are a vicious people!" That's Othering. That's bad. And we need to be careful about it, otherwise we'll end up like those Muslims, condemning people based on their cultural traditions, rather than their individual vices....

Greatness: Listen Up!

This is very important people, so pay attention!

All of you! Even you in the back of the class. Listen up!

It is now time to watch The Zero Effect. Hop to it. No delays, no excuses. Your reports are due by 4:00 tomorrow (or Monday, if you still have an excused absence left for the semester).

You may spend the rest of the period working on this project. I have no objections to that.

Greatness: A Story Idea

A long time ago, I had a dream in which I was reading a short story by Zelazny, and when I woke up I remembered the story that I had been reading. It was a good one (and very Zelazny-esque), and I made some short notes to myself, in the hopes that one day I would write it up.

Then, of course, promptly forgot all about it.

Bruce wrote me the other day, and mentioned in passing the AA phrase, "fake it til you make it," which reminded me of my own comment recently on the issue of lying, concerning pretending to be something better than you are, in order to become that (and the difficulties associated with that).

Also, for some completely inexplicable reason, Toby has been inundating my poor GMail with countless (read: "two") articles concerning mind-controlling parasites.

And thinking on these things reminded me, across time and space, of the story idea I'd had long ago.

It goes like:

Somewhere in space, on some out-of-the-way planet, there is a parasitic creature that is capable of mind control, that enhances its victim's aggressive instinct.

Another advanced race discovers the parasite and cultivates it, using it as a form of rehabilitation on truly horrible criminals, enemies of the state, and conquered enemy soldiers, turning them into state-sponsored assassins and soldiers. Eventually that race's entire standing army is peopled with zombies controlled by these parasites.

Generally the life-expectancy of one of these zombies is pretty short, given its reckless charge into danger, but one particular criminal is so incredibly lucky and talented, that she lives for years longer than any other. She is quickly promoted from soldier to assassin, and becomes feared through the galaxy (style of thing).

Finally she shows up at some out-of-the-way bar and sits down across the table from some wanted fugitive, who recognizes her and knows that he's dead. He strikes up a conversation, trying to buy time, and most of the actual story takes place within their little dialogue. And over the course of the story, you discover that the mind-control parasites themselves only live a couple of years, and that this one woman's controllers died more than a decade ago, but she had become so much what the parasites made her, that even after their influence was gone, she just kept it up.

Then I suppose she kills him, because why not?

Journal Entry: Seeing-Eye Aaron

I wrote Bruce yesterday and got him caught up on my surgery and follow-up, and it ended up being a long email. Occurred to me that some of you might be interested, too, so here's a quick edit of the email I sent him.

Thursday I got to the Center at 2:30. They took me to the surgery area in the back (which is basically just a doctor's office built onto the side of the consulting center). I sat in a...dentist's chair, sort of thing, and took 2 little white anti-anxiety pills. I guess they worked pretty well. I'm a pretty laid-back dude anyway, but these things overcame even my boredom. It was like hypnosis. I just sat there, waiting to see what would happen next (and idly curious).

What happened next was a LOT of waiting. I sat in that chair for about an hour (during which time a nurse administered 2 sets of numbing eye drops). Then they took me in a little room with a laser to cut the corneal flap. Yeah, gross, but I wasn't worried about it, and it really wasn't bad at all. It's HORRIBLE to think about, but actually doing it is no big deal. After the flap was cut I walked back to my chair (my vision was blurry, but my eyes still worked and all) where I was supposed to sit with my eyes closed for thirty minutes. Twenty-five minutes into that they called Trish to tell her I'd be done soon. An hour after THAT they finally took me back to the OTHER room with a laser where I would get the actual LASIK (that is, the shaving of cells off my cornea).

They put an orange dye in my eyes, to help the doctor see something more clearly. Everything got a LITTLE bit orangey, but other than that it wasn't noticeable. I went in and sat in the chair and stared at a blinking red light for a little less than one minute per eye. Then I was done. Walked out into the front sitting area, where Trish was waiting, and she FREAKED out. No one had told her about the orange dye. She thought my eyes were maimed or something. I watched her reaction, knew immediately what she was reacting to, but thanks to the little white pills, it just seemed idly curious to me. After the fact, I laughed and laughed at the horror on her face (which she was bravely trying to hide, for my sake), and the fact that, at the time, I recognized it but didn't say a word. A couple minutes later the nurse mentioned something in passing that clarified things for Trish, so she was able to relax.

Anyway, the actual surgeries (that is, the two parts where I interacted with lasers) took about 10 minutes, total, combined. In between, I had to wait 30 minutes, and it probably needed about 30 minutes beforehand between taking the pills and going in for the first laser, to let the medicines take effect. So, all told, the actual procedure probably takes about an hour and fifteen minutes. It could easily be done in an hour and a half.

I got there at 2:30 and left right at 6:00. It seemed to me like they'd just overbooked. That was pretty frustrating to me at times, but whatcha gonna do? At every step along the way, anyway, the doctor told me that things were going very well. By the time we left the office, Thursday evening, I was telling people on the phone that I could see about halfway between where I'd been with glasses, and where I'd been without.

Thursday night was a strict "No computers, no video games, no books" rule, which just totally crushed my social life. We went home and Trish and I watched Alias (they specifically said TV was okay), but thanks to the drugs I kept dozing off. I couldn't really see that clearly anyway, but I could follow what was going on. We watched one episode, started a second, and I fell asleep halfway through. When it went off I woke up and went to bed (about 9:30). Trish came to bed sometime later.

Friday morning's post-op was, as I said, at 8:30. I actually woke up around 6:00, because I'd gone to bed so early and I'm pretty accustomed to 6 hours' sleep at this point. So I got up at 6:00, stumbled into my office, and decided to run my auctions in World of Warcraft. No big deal -- it involves loading the game and then typing a couple commands that I've got long memorized. I figured I could do that if I couldn't see at all.

So I get in the game, and I can see everything crystal clear. I mean, yeah, maybe it takes a few minutes for me to focus, but once I do, everything stays focused and I can see everything in game. I run my auctions, and then start just playing (because I've got an hour and a half to kill). Mom logged on and I chatted with her for about half an hour (which meant a lot of reading tiny font). And all of this is SO much habit that I kept forgetting how big of a deal it was. Then suddenly it strikes me -- the morning after, and I already have PERFECT vision! Right about then, I hear the door swing open as Trish walks in. I look up to tell her the good news--

And that whole end of the room is just a huge blur. I actually said, "Never mind." Which just confused her. I guess the huge, bright monitor that I've got was positioned in just the perfect position for my early focusing. I learned over the next hour or so that I had to focus on a given distance before it would resolve, but I could focus pretty well on just about anything. There was a little blurriness around everything, but I could definitely see.

So we go to the post-op exam, and the first thing they do is a Reading Chart test. Everything was blurry, but at the center of the blur I could still see the dark outlines of the characters pretty clearly, so when they asked me to read the smallest line I could....

20/25 for each eye individually, and 20/20 for both together. That is just phenomenal for the morning after the surgery, and indicates there's a pretty good chance that I'll end up considerably better than that.

The blurriness was gone by 5:00 that afternoon. Unfortunately, there was still the discomfort.

Okay, after the surgery you have to listen to this little 10-minute speech on what you can and can't do, and what you should and shouldn't do for the recovery period (which is three stages long, from tonight, then next four days, and then the next three weeks). While I was sitting in the surgery area on Thursday, I'd heard seven different people get that speech, so I pretty much had it memorized. The thing that kinda stuck me was, "There will be some discomfort -- that's normal" matched with "if you feel any pain at all, call us immediately." I was kinda dreading trying to make the distinction.

Friday morning it made perfect sense. When I woke up, it felt like I had slept in my contacts. That's a very uncomfortable experience, but one I was pretty dang familiar with, so I was like, "Ah! I get it."

Well, that discomfort has persisted. Sometime late Saturday I complained about it in my left eye, which indicated to me that it had faded from my right eye by then. At this point my right eye is perfect, I'd say. Very clear vision, very little discomfort. But my left eye is STILL irritated. It's probably also still just that "regular discomfort," rather than pain, but it's been so persistent and (like any eye discomfort) it's so distracting that it has me pretty concerned.

When Nicki got her surgery they sent her home with four different bottles of eye drops to use four times daily: antibiotic, steroid, numbing, and moisturizing. They sent me home with three (left out the numbing). I'm really wishing I'd gotten all four. Nicki said that they probably discontinued use of the numbing drops because it would make you more likely to touch your eye post-op, and less likely to keep it moisturized (and those are the two most important steps to recovery). That makes sense, but I'm really wishing I had some of those numbing drops.

Instead, though, I just called the doctor. This would be Monday night. He suggested a couple things I could do that might help, and said that if it was still hurting on Tuesday at noon, I should call back and schedule an afternoon appointment. It was, and I did. My boss here had LASIK five years ago, so he's been very understanding and encouraging.

So, I went in to see the doctor, and he looked really closely at both eyes, and told me that I had a little bit of inflammation still on the left eye, that wasn't on the right. Nothing very serious (and I hadn't damaged the cornea, which was my concern), but he gave me a stronger steroid drop to use in the left eye for the next couple of days. I used it all evening yesterday, and my eye is definitely feeling better. I've also been trying to take longer and more frequent breaks from computer use, but you can probably guess how well that's going.

Anyway, that's the situation. My vision is incredible. Far better than it ever was with glasses or contacts. I get to wear sunglasses when I go outside. I can see everything in the room the moment I wake up. It's just, all around, in every way, awesome. I keep having to remind myself to be excited, though, because it worked so well that I keep forgetting it hasn't always been this way. As much as I hate change, I really adjust to it pretty quickly, I guess.

So, there's my story. I know I've typed a friggin' book, here, but I've really been wanting to share this with you all along. Sorry it took so long to get around to it. I do think I'm doing very, very well. The irritation is probably a fairly insignificant issue, so I wouldn't worry about it. Just about everything else has gone as well as it possibly could. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers!

God and Government: The Cartoon Thing

Have you heard about the whole Muhammed cartoon controversy? Every other blog in the world is talking about it as though everyone is entirely up to speed, but I can't really trust you people to read the news, so let me summarize.

Islamic tradition (law?) holds that it is wrong to draw images -- particularly cartoons -- of the Prophet. This seems to be akin to the "using the lord's name in vain" thing, but I'm no expert on Islamic tradition (law?). No, really.

Well, anyway, last December a small Danish newspaper printed a series of comics depicting the prophet, the most notable one featuring him wearing a turban that looked like a bomb. For some reason, it took a long time for anyone to notice, but sometime last week a lot of Muslim nations and organizations began creating a huge stir over it, demanding an apology and organizing a widespread boycott of Danish projects (that actually severely hurt several Danish organizations in a very short period of time). The government and the editor of that paper both offered a...sort of restricted apology, but then newspapers throughout Europe picked up the cartoons and started to run them in a show of solidarity for the little Danish paper, and for freedom of speech in general.

The argument seems to be this: that the Western world is not subject to Islamic law, and shouldn't be expected to operate under it. Furthermore, that the Western media has long used political cartoons to attack Western political and cultural icons, as well as (of course) Christianity and Judaism. When "they" start to cause a ruckus over this, try to tell our media what it can and can't print based on their religious doctrines, we have to remind them that most of what makes us separate from them is the sort of freedom that allows our media to print stupid political cartoons.

(That is, as I understand it, the basic argument in favor of the cartoons -- not necessarily mine.)

And then, on the other hand, the big point is, simply, "Well, yes, sure, you can print anything you want in your papers, but why would you choose to print something viciously offensive to millions and millions of people?"

And whoever is asking that question has never really paid any attention to Western media....

But all of that is background. As I was driving to lunch yesterday, I was listening to a story on the topic, and I was thinking, "If I were a cartoonist, I would draw one showing Mohammed rolling his eyes, with a little chat bubble that said, 'Stop killing people!'" And I thought about it a little and decided that, for historical reasons, I'd probably go ahead and throw in Jesus there next to him, and the two of them together reprimanding their audience.

So that got me thinking that, really, it sounded kind of like a message incompatible with my own beliefs. The actual line running through my head was, "No religion has any good reason to go killing people." That's the line that got Jesus added in, actually. But, then, it comes across as kinda pacifist, which I obviously am not.

So, pondering these things, I came to this conclusion. "Every government has good reason to kill people." It goes without saying, really. Doesn't necessarily mean they will, or should (after all, there may very well be better reasons not to), but they've got a vested interest in making some people dead. Religions don't. Religions benefit most from living people, although all of their offered rewards tend to be for the dead. It's an odd situation.

But here's what I'm saying: if the United States is in a war because of Christianity...that's an atrocity. If the United States is in a war for territory or resources, well, that's a practicality. Such wars have been the foundation of most every nation you could name today, the United States very much included. If it's in a war to protect its citizens from an external aggressor (even, yes, preemptively), then it's serving the interests of the citizens which is, in fact, a state's first responsibility. States have good reasons to go to war, but religions don't.

So, yeah, I stand behind my cartoon. Any decent Prophet would stand up in front of his followers, and roll his eyes, and just shout in exasperation, "Stop killing people!" He'd be right, too.

God and Greatness: A Maxim

When it comes to religion, your average scientist is a person who can ask "Why?" a thousand times, but call someone a superstitious fool for asking it a thousand and one.