My husband and I had a few gift cards to Borders still lying around and with the closing of the store, we went online to redeem them before the site shut down, too. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline was the first snag. We had heard interviews and book praises on a few podcasts and we knew it would be one we couldn't pass up.
I started reading it last night. I am currently somewhere inside Level 0002, which is either Chapter 2 or Chapter 3, depending on your preference of the count (do you consider Level 0000 a chapter, Mr. Cline?). I love it. I know the book hasn't gotten into the meat of the story, but I still love it. Mr. Cline creates a world to which we can all relate, geeks, gamers, 'normals', everyone.
I won't say much more than this: The podcasts and interviews did not push this book's greatness enough. I am not finished with it yet, but I am still recommending it to everyone. Go, buy it now, and read along with me.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Ten Years
Where were you?
It is a simple question, three little words. Profound in their meaning. No one really needs to ask about the implied time; everyone in the US knows the question references September 11, 2001.
I have always brushed it off, never really feeling that I had a right to answer the question. The few times that I did answer, I felt selfish, as if I were trying to take a part of that day for myself. It took awhile for me to stop feeling like a bystander at a car wreck and realize that, as Americans, that little question was a way to bring people together. We are a nation of people, bystanders and victims, but a country united as one entity. We are the United States of America and the attack was not just one city, not just one state, but across the country. Our country, as a whole, was the victim. Just as every citizen has the right to ask this question, every person has the right to answer, to claim a part of that day.
It is a simple question, three little words. Profound in their meaning. No one really needs to ask about the implied time; everyone in the US knows the question references September 11, 2001.
I have always brushed it off, never really feeling that I had a right to answer the question. The few times that I did answer, I felt selfish, as if I were trying to take a part of that day for myself. It took awhile for me to stop feeling like a bystander at a car wreck and realize that, as Americans, that little question was a way to bring people together. We are a nation of people, bystanders and victims, but a country united as one entity. We are the United States of America and the attack was not just one city, not just one state, but across the country. Our country, as a whole, was the victim. Just as every citizen has the right to ask this question, every person has the right to answer, to claim a part of that day.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Dresden Files: Ghost Story *SPOILERS*
I finished Ghost Story, the latest installment of Jim Butcher's Dresden Files, Wednesday night. While it took me a while to get to it and crack it open, it only took four days of on-and-off reading between work and school to finish it. It even had me so engrossed that I got very little sleep the closer I got to the end - I turned the final page well after midnight that last night!
Before I delve into my thoughts and what I took away from the book, let me warn you now:
There be spoilers ahead!
And by spoilers, I mean nearly the entire damn book.
A quick aside: the following is a combination of my process of thoughts as I read and a review of the book. Any English instructor I have ever had would, and probably should, cringe and cry at the "review" presented.
Before I delve into my thoughts and what I took away from the book, let me warn you now:
And by spoilers, I mean nearly the entire damn book.
A quick aside: the following is a combination of my process of thoughts as I read and a review of the book. Any English instructor I have ever had would, and probably should, cringe and cry at the "review" presented.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Alyssa Bereznak: Who The *bleep* Did I Date?!
This is a response post to an article posted on Gizmodo, an article linked to me through G+ by TheTankTheory. His response is posted on his page, This 8-Bit Life. Another response he shared that I enjoy is posted over at NerdPuddle.
There is a show on the Investigation Discovery channel called Who The &!*$/ Did I Marry?, and it chronicles the lives of women who marry serial rapists and killers. Reading through Alyssa Bereznak's article on Gizmodo, you would think she had a similar story.
She created a profile on OKCupid because she "came home drunk" one night. From the get-go, Alyssa is making excuses and blaming a root cause on her action: the alcohol made her search the internet for a date. Red flag number one; if this woman cannot own up to willingly creating a profile because she feels it will aid her in her search for a guy, then how will this article end? Well, maybe it is the truth and it just simply took the drinking to ease her nerves about setting up a profile. It happens to the best of us at times, so why not give her the benefit of a doubt? Let's rescind that first strike and begin the profiled dating.
There is a show on the Investigation Discovery channel called Who The &!*$/ Did I Marry?, and it chronicles the lives of women who marry serial rapists and killers. Reading through Alyssa Bereznak's article on Gizmodo, you would think she had a similar story.
She created a profile on OKCupid because she "came home drunk" one night. From the get-go, Alyssa is making excuses and blaming a root cause on her action: the alcohol made her search the internet for a date. Red flag number one; if this woman cannot own up to willingly creating a profile because she feels it will aid her in her search for a guy, then how will this article end? Well, maybe it is the truth and it just simply took the drinking to ease her nerves about setting up a profile. It happens to the best of us at times, so why not give her the benefit of a doubt? Let's rescind that first strike and begin the profiled dating.
Friday, August 26, 2011
When Two Geeks Get Hitched
When my husband proposed, I was lost.
Of course I said YES, but I had no clue what to do next. I'm not a typical girl; I had never thought about my wedding, I had only ever focused on the kind of guy I wanted and the life (ahem, family) that would follow. The months that followed the ring were filled with brainstorming and idea dumping. Hours were spent talking about what we could or would do. I would toss out one thought and Jason would agree or disagree, and notes were taken.
There was one major rule determined almost immediately:
Jason: "There will be no Star Trek!"
Me: "OK, fine. If there can be no Star Trek, there won't be any Star Wars!"
Of course I said YES, but I had no clue what to do next. I'm not a typical girl; I had never thought about my wedding, I had only ever focused on the kind of guy I wanted and the life (ahem, family) that would follow. The months that followed the ring were filled with brainstorming and idea dumping. Hours were spent talking about what we could or would do. I would toss out one thought and Jason would agree or disagree, and notes were taken.
There was one major rule determined almost immediately:
Jason: "There will be no Star Trek!"
Me: "OK, fine. If there can be no Star Trek, there won't be any Star Wars!"
Friday, August 19, 2011
Geeky, Nerdy Video Playlist
There are gems scattered across the internet. Thanks to some very creative geeks and nerds, there are some wonderful spoof music videos and original content fan tribute songs. The following are just some of the examples of what you can find with the right searches on the right pages (much thanks to all the nerd news pages / podcasts for links to most of these). When I have time to do a more thorough search of my bookmarks and when/if I come across more, I will update this post. Enjoy!
Beware: Some of these are NSFW!
Beware: Some of these are NSFW!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
It Feels Good To Be Home!
It has been awhile since I last blogged for myself and it feels good to return to Blogger to begin again.
This time, however, I will not be blogging under a complete pseudonym, merely a bare mask. Think of this as the grand ballroom in which a masquerade ball is held. Some of you know me, or think that you do, but you can't be one hundred percent certain because of the feathered mask pinned over my eyes. It is black, like my hair, with a few purple dyed plumes puffed up to offer height to my short stature. I have gone the extra mile with my lined makeup and the shadow-play of color, but the brown eyes peering up at you as we dance are completely natural. My lips smile at your humor, the only additive a slight gloss, which tastes sweet to my tongue tracing over the lower lip before biting back a retort; a lady must mind her manners, especially at such a sensuous soiree.
The music picks up and my skirt lifts as I twirl away. Yes, I can dance in these heels. Why does this bother so many people? Why is it hard to believe that a young woman with plenty to offer a man would want to sharpen her brain with wit and knowledge? I have danced with many partners and have found that most would prefer me barefoot, with child, tending the cooking. I have even been told, to my face, that my skill at problem solving and my ingenuity were a shock - because he had assumed that I, as a young woman, had been hired for my looks.
Halt the orchestra, let the partners stumble in the sudden silence.
Yes, this is who I am. And I am here to stay. It feels damn good to be home again.
This time, however, I will not be blogging under a complete pseudonym, merely a bare mask. Think of this as the grand ballroom in which a masquerade ball is held. Some of you know me, or think that you do, but you can't be one hundred percent certain because of the feathered mask pinned over my eyes. It is black, like my hair, with a few purple dyed plumes puffed up to offer height to my short stature. I have gone the extra mile with my lined makeup and the shadow-play of color, but the brown eyes peering up at you as we dance are completely natural. My lips smile at your humor, the only additive a slight gloss, which tastes sweet to my tongue tracing over the lower lip before biting back a retort; a lady must mind her manners, especially at such a sensuous soiree.
The music picks up and my skirt lifts as I twirl away. Yes, I can dance in these heels. Why does this bother so many people? Why is it hard to believe that a young woman with plenty to offer a man would want to sharpen her brain with wit and knowledge? I have danced with many partners and have found that most would prefer me barefoot, with child, tending the cooking. I have even been told, to my face, that my skill at problem solving and my ingenuity were a shock - because he had assumed that I, as a young woman, had been hired for my looks.
Halt the orchestra, let the partners stumble in the sudden silence.
Yes, this is who I am. And I am here to stay. It feels damn good to be home again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)