Many websites are dark today in protest of two bills before Congress right now. The danger if the bills pass is that the Internet will be crippled, sites will be taken down for suspected copyright infringement/piracy without due process, ordinary people will be prosecuted for doing so much as posting a video of themselves singing a copyrighted song or quoting a copyrighted work.
I'm not tech-savvy enough to take my sites down and get them back up, so my support is this: watch this video and see the dangers, then contact your senators and representatives. Tell them that SOPA and PIPA are not going to solve the problem of piracy and they are likely to cause more problems in the long run.
PROTECT IP / SOPA Breaks The Internet from Fight for the Future on Vimeo.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Monday, April 13, 2009
Not quite abandoned
Although I haven't posted in about a year and a half, I didn't intend to abandon this blog. I have my own hosted site now but I think I'll keep this one for writing.
So I picked out a fresh theme at The Cutest Blog on the Block (where I also got the theme for my original Blogspot blog.
I kept the name "Carol's random babble" from my Blogspot blog for my new site. I've tried to post at least once a day but missed April 8. I'm extremely busy with school and work (and avoiding doing homework), but I'll try to post some writing here anyway. Maybe a single paragraph or a couple of paragraphs here and there, even if that's all I have from the story.
So I picked out a fresh theme at The Cutest Blog on the Block (where I also got the theme for my original Blogspot blog.
I kept the name "Carol's random babble" from my Blogspot blog for my new site. I've tried to post at least once a day but missed April 8. I'm extremely busy with school and work (and avoiding doing homework), but I'll try to post some writing here anyway. Maybe a single paragraph or a couple of paragraphs here and there, even if that's all I have from the story.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
And now a word from our sponsor:
Not really. I just took a quiz and decided to share the results here, since this is my writing blog.
As I posted on Hatrack, I don't feel like an Isaac Asimov. I think my writing style is closer to some other authors, none of which is on the list from this source. One of the first science fiction authors I ever read was R.A. Lafferty. I don't expect to be as good and prolific as he was, but I can hope to be as good as I can be.
The resemblance between my work and Lafferty's is quirkiness. I work toward the surprise ending. I would have to compare my work to Lafferty's in the sense that a child's drawing would compare to something by Salvador Dalí.
 | I am:Isaac AsimovOne of the most prolific writers in history, on any imaginable subject. Cared little for art but created lasting and memorable tales. |
As I posted on Hatrack, I don't feel like an Isaac Asimov. I think my writing style is closer to some other authors, none of which is on the list from this source. One of the first science fiction authors I ever read was R.A. Lafferty. I don't expect to be as good and prolific as he was, but I can hope to be as good as I can be.
The resemblance between my work and Lafferty's is quirkiness. I work toward the surprise ending. I would have to compare my work to Lafferty's in the sense that a child's drawing would compare to something by Salvador Dalí.
Flash Fiction Friday No. 5: Snakes ... not on a plane
(Author's note: I have seriously abandoned Flash Fiction Friday for the past few months - since Sept. 21, 2006, actually. I decided to try to catch up. So, here is my much-delayed entry.)
Snakes ... not on a plane
Lorraine loved her job. Well, most of it. She loved doing research on the various works of art collected by the Duncombe Art Museum. She loved organizing art classes for people of all ages. She even loved making catering arrangements for various luncheons and open houses at the museum.
As Lorraine went to work, she imagined the spot where the mask once was. The director had ordered a modern art piece put in its place. Modern art was something that Lorraine felt neutral about, so she thought it should be easier to go to work. She climbed the steps and put her key in the door.
Lorraine paused, then opened the door and stepped in, expecting to see a lite box painting by Bill Sherwood. Instead, she saw what was literally her worst nightmare – the demon serpent mask she had packaged and sent off the day before. This time, the slithery noise was not her imagination – it was the sound made as the snakes twined around and reached for her.
Snakes ... not on a plane
Lorraine loved her job. Well, most of it. She loved doing research on the various works of art collected by the Duncombe Art Museum. She loved organizing art classes for people of all ages. She even loved making catering arrangements for various luncheons and open houses at the museum.
The only thing she hated was walking in the door.
You see, just past the employee entrance was a fabulous exhibit - a demon serpent mask from Sri Lanka. It was on semi-permanent loan in exchange for a set of Native American bird masks. Lorraine had passed by the serpent mask for two years now and every time she did, she shuddered.
She imagined that she heard a faint noise when she passed by, a slithery sort of sound. Although she hated to look at the mask, she firmly watched and memorized the formation of snakes, their coloration and the number of them, just in case.
A letter arrived from the sister museum in Sri Lanka. The museum directors wished to terminate the temporary loan of their artifact and return the Native American exhibit. They said they must have the mask back within two weeks. The Duncombe's director was upset - this didn't leave much time to make the arrangements: packing, shipping and insurance. He told Lorraine to "get right on it."
Lorraine was relieved and upset at the same time. The mask would be gone soon, but she would have to actually handle it - something she had avoided so far. She knew that nobody else at the museum had the same reaction that she did to it, so she kept her fears silent.
She made the necessary phone calls and brought the original shipping container from storage. She knew that she couldn't do this alone, so she asked the maintenance manager to assist.
They worked quickly but carefully and the mask was soon packed away. The delivery driver came and the container was loaded on the truck. Lorraine watched the truck drive away.
She phoned the museum in Sri Lanka to leave a message that their mask was on its way. Lorraine expected to feel relief, but that feeling didn't come.
At the end of the day, Lorraine went home. Her dreams were restless and confused, and she woke up tired. She dressed slowly, dreading going to work even though she knew that the mask was gone.
As Lorraine went to work, she imagined the spot where the mask once was. The director had ordered a modern art piece put in its place. Modern art was something that Lorraine felt neutral about, so she thought it should be easier to go to work. She climbed the steps and put her key in the door.
Lorraine paused, then opened the door and stepped in, expecting to see a lite box painting by Bill Sherwood. Instead, she saw what was literally her worst nightmare – the demon serpent mask she had packaged and sent off the day before. This time, the slithery noise was not her imagination – it was the sound made as the snakes twined around and reached for her.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Flash Fiction Friday No. 4: Elephants never forget
Challenge: This sentence - The elephant found me. Bonus points for using the phrase: stinky smelly stenchuous odoriferous elephant dung.
Photo:
Elephants never forget
They say that elephants never forget.
They know what they are talking about.
It was a job. I mean, I needed to work and there weren't too many places that would take an ex-druggie ex-con. But there was the zoo and they needed help.
So, I applied. I was thinking I would be working in the office - after all, I participated in the prison job training program and learned to type (okay, "keyboard") and got pretty good at MS Word and Excel and all. But, no. It was manual labor for me.
Specifically, the cleanup crew.
Yeah, that's right - I was the guy with the broom. Cleaning up the messes they didn't want the public to have to see.
Can I just say one thing? Stinky smelly stenchuous odoriferous elephant dung.
You have no idea how much those things can poop. And pee. I'm talking a flood of Biblical proportions.
And I was the one cleaning it up.
So, I got the bright idea to feed them a little supplement - you know, like when a human gets the runs. It didn't work out. I got fired (of course). My parole officer wasn't amused. I can't find another job.
But that's the least of my worries.
I've been having these dreams. I'll be walking down the street, turn around and there's one of the elephants from the zoo. They follow me in my dreams until I turn a corner and walk into a dead-end alley.
I know these streets pretty well from all that job-hunting, and there aren't any dead-end alleys where I've been, but there are in my dreams. I don't want to think about what happens next.
So, here I am, just walkin' down the street and I turn around ... nothing. There is no elephant. But I can feel my dream creeping up on me. So, I go around a corner and - you guessed it.
The elephant found me.
Photo:
Elephants never forget
They say that elephants never forget.
They know what they are talking about.
It was a job. I mean, I needed to work and there weren't too many places that would take an ex-druggie ex-con. But there was the zoo and they needed help.
So, I applied. I was thinking I would be working in the office - after all, I participated in the prison job training program and learned to type (okay, "keyboard") and got pretty good at MS Word and Excel and all. But, no. It was manual labor for me.
Specifically, the cleanup crew.
Yeah, that's right - I was the guy with the broom. Cleaning up the messes they didn't want the public to have to see.
Can I just say one thing? Stinky smelly stenchuous odoriferous elephant dung.
You have no idea how much those things can poop. And pee. I'm talking a flood of Biblical proportions.
And I was the one cleaning it up.
So, I got the bright idea to feed them a little supplement - you know, like when a human gets the runs. It didn't work out. I got fired (of course). My parole officer wasn't amused. I can't find another job.
But that's the least of my worries.
I've been having these dreams. I'll be walking down the street, turn around and there's one of the elephants from the zoo. They follow me in my dreams until I turn a corner and walk into a dead-end alley.
I know these streets pretty well from all that job-hunting, and there aren't any dead-end alleys where I've been, but there are in my dreams. I don't want to think about what happens next.
So, here I am, just walkin' down the street and I turn around ... nothing. There is no elephant. But I can feel my dream creeping up on me. So, I go around a corner and - you guessed it.
The elephant found me.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Flash Fiction Friday No. 3: The Upper Crust
(This week's challenge was this:
Your assignment, should you chose to accept it, will be to write the very worst short story, between 750 and 1000 words, you can. Must contain at least three of the following words: putrefy, jewellery, encephalogram, aardvark, banana, and zombie. Extra points for using all of them. Yes, I know I'm evil, why do you ask? :D
Cliches are nearly required, as are excessive use of adverbs, sentence fragments, run on sentences... Extra points if you include the opening phrase "It was a dark and stormy night...")
The Upper Crust
It was a dark and stormy night and the zombies were wandering. Ashley Turrington-Smythe closed the curtain - after looking out at the windswept scene of storminess at his ancestral estate. He turned around and looked around his spacious study at the other people in the room.
His father, Ashley Harrington-Smythe, was eating Bananas Foster while sitting in a chair near the fireplace, which had a fire burning brightly in it. Ashley Turrington-Smythe's wife, Ashlee Smythe-Turrington, was nervously fingering her jewelry: necklace, earrings and rings, a matching set of bright rubies. They were waiting, anxiously waiting, for a knock at the door.
Ashley Turrington-Smythe paced around the room and gazed at the luxorious furnishings. He stared at a stuffed aardvark brought back from a trip made by his grandfather, Ashley Livingston-Smythe, in the 1940s. It had been badly stuffed and began to putrefy soon after Ashley Livingston-Smythe installed it in the room, but for sentimental reasons, because he had run over the aardvark the day he met his future wife, they decided to keep it anyway, despite the smell, which by this time was just a faint whiff.
"Did that thing move?" he asked, pointing at the aardvark. The others looked, but didn't see anything.
"Never mind," he said. He resumed pacing.
Finally, the long-awaited knock occurred. All eyes in the room swung toward the door. Ashley Turrington-Smythe took a step forward, then stopped. He started toward the door again, but before he reached it, the door opened and a woman stepped into the room.
"Hello, darlings," his mother, Ashlan Smythe-Harrington, as she stepped through the door into the brightly-lit study. "Did you miss me?"
"Of course, Mother," replied Ashley Turrington-Smythe. "We were a bit concerned that you might have some difficulty returning home, considering that the zombies are wandering and all."
Ashlan Smythe-Harrington laughed and said, "Oh, you know Jeeves can navigate his way through the worst of it."
Ashlee Smythe-Turrington stood and asked, "Shouldn't we get started? It's getting late, after all."
The others nodded agreement as they proceeded toward the table on one side of the room.They sat down and Ashley Harrington-Smythe began shuffling the cards. As they played, they heard thumping noises outside as the zombies bumped into the sturdy stone walls of the stately manor house.
Ashley Turrington-Smythe looked around the room. "Did you hear a noise in this room, sort of a scratching noise?" he asked. None of the others had heard the noise to which he referred. They resumed playing.
A whiff of unpleasant odor reached the table. They looked around and saw the aardvark closer to the table.
"I think the aardvark has been infected by the zombies!" exclaimed Ashlee Smythe-Turrington excitedly. "We have to stay away from it!"
"That belonged to grandfather and has enormous sentimental value. We can't destroy it," said Ashley Turrington-Smythe.
"What can we do?" asked Ashlee Smythe-Turrington.
"We can give it an encephalogram," said Ashlan Smythe-Harrington. "That will establish whether it is an actual zombie. The problem is getting it to the hospital for the test."
Ashley Harrington-Smythe disagreed. "The problem will be getting the hospital to do the test. We'll have to donate money for another wing before they will agree to this test. You remember they insisted they couldn't do the test when my father, Ashley Livingston-Smythe, exhibited signs of being a zombie."
Ashley Turrington-Smythe nodded. "And then they couldn't help him with the problem. Poor grandfather."
The four looked toward the window, where they could hear faint sounds of zombies hitting the wall.
"I have an idea," Ashley Turrington-Smythe said. "Let's take the aardvark outside. Maybe grandfather is looking for it."
"That's a capital idea!" exclaimed his father, Ashley Harrington-Smythe. "Perhaps father is lonely for his aardvark. We could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I'm just wondering exactly how we are going to get the zombie aardvark outside without getting infected ourselves."
The four thought for a minute, then "Jeeves!" rang out from four throats. They rang for the butler.
Your assignment, should you chose to accept it, will be to write the very worst short story, between 750 and 1000 words, you can. Must contain at least three of the following words: putrefy, jewellery, encephalogram, aardvark, banana, and zombie. Extra points for using all of them. Yes, I know I'm evil, why do you ask? :D
Cliches are nearly required, as are excessive use of adverbs, sentence fragments, run on sentences... Extra points if you include the opening phrase "It was a dark and stormy night...")
The Upper Crust
It was a dark and stormy night and the zombies were wandering. Ashley Turrington-Smythe closed the curtain - after looking out at the windswept scene of storminess at his ancestral estate. He turned around and looked around his spacious study at the other people in the room.
His father, Ashley Harrington-Smythe, was eating Bananas Foster while sitting in a chair near the fireplace, which had a fire burning brightly in it. Ashley Turrington-Smythe's wife, Ashlee Smythe-Turrington, was nervously fingering her jewelry: necklace, earrings and rings, a matching set of bright rubies. They were waiting, anxiously waiting, for a knock at the door.
Ashley Turrington-Smythe paced around the room and gazed at the luxorious furnishings. He stared at a stuffed aardvark brought back from a trip made by his grandfather, Ashley Livingston-Smythe, in the 1940s. It had been badly stuffed and began to putrefy soon after Ashley Livingston-Smythe installed it in the room, but for sentimental reasons, because he had run over the aardvark the day he met his future wife, they decided to keep it anyway, despite the smell, which by this time was just a faint whiff.
"Did that thing move?" he asked, pointing at the aardvark. The others looked, but didn't see anything.
"Never mind," he said. He resumed pacing.
Finally, the long-awaited knock occurred. All eyes in the room swung toward the door. Ashley Turrington-Smythe took a step forward, then stopped. He started toward the door again, but before he reached it, the door opened and a woman stepped into the room.
"Hello, darlings," his mother, Ashlan Smythe-Harrington, as she stepped through the door into the brightly-lit study. "Did you miss me?"
"Of course, Mother," replied Ashley Turrington-Smythe. "We were a bit concerned that you might have some difficulty returning home, considering that the zombies are wandering and all."
Ashlan Smythe-Harrington laughed and said, "Oh, you know Jeeves can navigate his way through the worst of it."
Ashlee Smythe-Turrington stood and asked, "Shouldn't we get started? It's getting late, after all."
The others nodded agreement as they proceeded toward the table on one side of the room.They sat down and Ashley Harrington-Smythe began shuffling the cards. As they played, they heard thumping noises outside as the zombies bumped into the sturdy stone walls of the stately manor house.
Ashley Turrington-Smythe looked around the room. "Did you hear a noise in this room, sort of a scratching noise?" he asked. None of the others had heard the noise to which he referred. They resumed playing.
A whiff of unpleasant odor reached the table. They looked around and saw the aardvark closer to the table.
"I think the aardvark has been infected by the zombies!" exclaimed Ashlee Smythe-Turrington excitedly. "We have to stay away from it!"
"That belonged to grandfather and has enormous sentimental value. We can't destroy it," said Ashley Turrington-Smythe.
"What can we do?" asked Ashlee Smythe-Turrington.
"We can give it an encephalogram," said Ashlan Smythe-Harrington. "That will establish whether it is an actual zombie. The problem is getting it to the hospital for the test."
Ashley Harrington-Smythe disagreed. "The problem will be getting the hospital to do the test. We'll have to donate money for another wing before they will agree to this test. You remember they insisted they couldn't do the test when my father, Ashley Livingston-Smythe, exhibited signs of being a zombie."
Ashley Turrington-Smythe nodded. "And then they couldn't help him with the problem. Poor grandfather."
The four looked toward the window, where they could hear faint sounds of zombies hitting the wall.
"I have an idea," Ashley Turrington-Smythe said. "Let's take the aardvark outside. Maybe grandfather is looking for it."
"That's a capital idea!" exclaimed his father, Ashley Harrington-Smythe. "Perhaps father is lonely for his aardvark. We could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I'm just wondering exactly how we are going to get the zombie aardvark outside without getting infected ourselves."
The four thought for a minute, then "Jeeves!" rang out from four throats. They rang for the butler.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Flash Fiction Friday No. 2: Totem
The Totem
"Totem Poles are monumental sculptures carved from great trees, typically Western red cedar, by a number of Native American cultures along the Pacific northwest coast of North America. The word 'totem' is derived from the Algonkian word Dodem, roughly translating into a spiritual non-human or animal guide."
Roger heard the guide's voice from his hiding place near the totem pole. He looked at his watch. The full moon was going to rise soon, and he needed to be in place.
The group moved on and Roger relaxed. The tours came every 15 minutes. He had just enough time to perform the ceremony before the next group.
Roger placed the items he had collected around the totem. Bear claws had been easy to acquire. The eagle feathers were more difficult - it was illegal to own them without being Native American.
The last item was most important. When he had his wisdom teeth removed as a teen, he had kept them. At the time, he didn't know why. This ceremony was the furthest thing from his mind - until now.
All the re-enacting events he had attended, all the times he had "just hung out" with members of various Native American tribes, all the risks he had taken - everything hung on this moment. He was going to invoke the spirits of the totem and gain their power.
Roger chanted and danced around the totem pole. He could feel the hairs on his body rising with electricity. He saw a glow around the totem. He started moving closer, as if he was being pulled.
"No!" Roger yelled as his body touched the totem and was enveloped.
"Totem Poles are monumental sculptures carved from great trees, typically Western red cedar, by a number of ... " the guide's voice trailed off as she looked at the totem pole. She shook her head. "I could have sworn this pole only had two totems on it."
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