What is Your Geek Quotient?

There is no post for the Express Yourself Weekly Meme this week. Spooktoberfest is still going on, so be sure to check out as many stories as you can!

I thought I'd just share a couple of little things with you for my Tuesday post. We all have a little, or a lot, of geek in us.  When we embrace that geek, we truly shine.  So, dig deep and determine your Geek Quotient.  Just be warned, finding your inner geek is not for the faint of heart!  It takes dedication.

I already shared this next video on my other blog, but I thought I'd share it here as well.  For those of you who don't know, math (while not everyone's cup of tea) can involve a great deal of creativity and fun.  This video shows just how dedicated and excited some math geeks get about their subject of choice.  I'll admit, math wasn't my favorite subject, but I made it through Calculus 3 in college.  In those years, while I didn't develop this kind of love affair with math, I came to appreciate its elegance and the role it plays in the world around us.

That being said, there are three videos in this series, and you can find the links to the following videos at the end of this first one.  I recommend you find the time to watch them all, because they are entertaining.  The woman in the video has a great sense of humor and presents this subject in a fun way.  I promise!  My three year old son loves watching these!

A Doctor Who Spoof

For those of you who successfully survived another Monday, here's a little fun to get you through the rest of the week.

How many of you out there love Doctor Who?  I know I sure do.  Here is the first video in a new web series that has fun with the Doctor Who universe.  I watch every spoof of Doctor Who that I can, because it's all in good fun!

Enjoy!

Blogspiration 18: Mind and Matter

Blogspiration is a weekly meme hosted by GrowingUp YA& Saz101. The meme was created to help spark inspiration among bloggers, readers & writers alike. An inspirational quote/picture/video is posted weekly, on the day of the author's choosing, so that it may inspire creativity, conversation & just a little SOMETHING.

For my Tuesday Treat post, I thought I'd give you the Blogspiration that I didn't get around to putting up over the weekend.  I promise that the time I saved by doubling up will be dedicated to my writing, and not to something yucky like doing dishes or folding laundry.

This quote has always resonated with me.  I know I've read it everywhere, and I've heard it at about 50% of the graduation ceremonies I've attended.  Okay, this may be an exaggeration, but even if it is, it isn't by much.

That being said, this cultural pervasiveness does not take away from the quote's meaning and power.

Background Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I try to keep this in mind for both my personal life and my writing life.  There are exceptions to this rule, of course.  After all, discussing hot button issues at family dinners can result in unsavory consequences.  I mean, when people are wielding dinner knives, a little verbal restraint isn't a bad thing.

Joking aside, I try to say and write what is true to me.  Those I love don't have to agree with or like everything I commit to paper, nor do I have to agree with every viewpoint expressed by them.  In the end, the valuable relationships are strengthened by respectful disagreement and dialogue.

Besides, who wants to write a story while constantly worrying about that potentially controversial thing you wrote?  That sounds utterly exhausting. Write what's true to you, and you'll reap the rewards of being genuine.

Social Media Insanity!

I'm late posting today because both of my kids are sick.  Last night was a long night, and sleep was frequently interrupted by crying and runny noses.  It has been anything but fun.

As such, I'm sure you'll understand the low maintenance post today.  The content of this post is brought to you by Comediva.  This is a terrific website, and they always find a new way to make me laugh.

First, I decided to share a video that shows the extremes of social media addiction.  Many people are addicted to Pinterest, but this is clearly beyond and reasonable level of pinning devotion.  

Next is A LINK to some funny pictures combining the world of Harry Potter and Doctor Who.  I recommend taking the time to check it out, because it really is fun!

Coffee Beans and Quotes

I decided to share a couple of writing quotes that I felt were both fun and true. The coffee bean border also says a lot about my life as a writer.  I truly cannot get through writing anything without coffee to inspire me.

Background Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I used to weave elaborate tales as a kid, and that was enough to gain me the label of "weird" and "liar."  The other kids never understood my propensity for exaggerated storytelling.  The truth is, I always wanted to tell stories.  I carried a writing notebook everywhere, no matter how much other people teased me about it.  Now that I'm an adult, a lot more people seem to think that I'm cool for doing the same thing.  The passage of time changes a lot.

Why do I engage in the lie of fiction writing?  It's simple.  I engage in the lie of fiction to tell the truth about the world as I see it.

This leads me to the second quote.  When I tell truths about the world that I find important, they tend to be at least a little controversial.  This means that, in writing about these things, I will inevitably annoy, or even outright enrage, some people.  I have to decide that's okay.  In order to write stories of substance that mean something to me personally, I have to be willing to ruffle some feathers.  The written word can entertain, but it can also transform.

That's what I really want.  To write something that challenges someone, and maybe even transforms the way they think about something.  Annoyance is the irritant that leads to critical thought.  If this is the case, then annoyance is a prerequisite to change.

Anyway, those are my thoughts.  Does anyone have a perspective they'd like to share about these quotes?  Or do you have a favorite writing quote to share?

Writer's Block Funny Video

Lately I've been posting flash fiction on Tuesdays.  However, since I've been focusing on my longer projects this week, I don't have any flash fiction for today. I promise I'll still have flash fiction for you on Friday.

Today, I thought I'd share a hilarious video with you.  With social media everywhere, the severe affliction known as writer's block has exploded.  The important issue of non-productivity for writers is exacerbated by constant distractions.

I have been guilty of the behaviors portrayed in this video more often than I would like to admit.  All I can say is I must strive to do better.  Maybe I shouldn't be encouraging my fellow writers to distract themselves by watching this, but I think you'll all be able to relate.

So, if you're a writer looking for distraction like the girl in this video, go ahead and enjoy it.  How do you think I found it?

 

Instruments of Revenge

First of all, I'd like to say how much fun it was to participate in the What If? Blogfest last week!  It was a blast!  Cassie Mae chose my piece as an Honorable Mention, so thank you!  When you're in such close competition with such awesome writers, receiving that kind of recognition is great.  If you haven't read my entry yet, you can find it HERE.

For today's post, I decided to share with you a flash fiction piece that I wrote for Christa Desir's Band Camp Blogfest.  It didn't win, but that's okay.  All of the stories were very well written, so I have no room for complaint.  The participants poured a lot of love into their pieces, and it was so much fun just to write my entry.

This is not a true story,  but I thought it was a fun story idea.

My band camp experiences were all for marching band, but I know that there are band camps for concert band as well.  Besides, that setting served my plot better.

The best part about writing this for me was embracing the opportunity to insert geeky band humor.

Instruments of Revenge

This one time at band camp, things got a little out of hand.  It was my senior year, my last band camp experience, and by far the most memorable.  The situation involved a rival band from a neighboring school, cotton balls, a gong, a car chase, and my best friend Bach.  His name was actually Sam Bachmann, but no one called him that.  Unfortunately, Bach was only his endearing nickname. 

Being a female trombone player, I sort of understood Bach’s predicament.  My nickname was Bones, though it was generally a term of affection.  As the only male flute player in the school, Bach was the subject of much ridicule.  He loved music, and he took the teasing in stride, but I knew the flute wasn’t his first choice of instrument.  The flute originally belonged to his older sister, and his family couldn’t afford to buy a new instrument for him to play.

Once we reached high school and he started to bulk up, the taunting decreased.  It also helped that he was really cute.  All the girls certainly noticed, including me, his best friend.  He also learned to play the school’s bass guitar for the occasional jazz pieces our band teacher liked to pick.  It helped salvage his image, though that wasn’t his real reason.  Bach loved music.  Why else would he suffer through his middle school years as the lone male in the flute section?  He wanted to learn as much about music as he could.

Each year our school had a week long summer band camp.  After meeting every day for several hours, perfecting a few musical selections, we performed at a concert.  Yet these were no ordinary concerts.  A nearby school performed too as the culmination of their own band camp.  The audience voted to choose the best performance, and the winning band got a small trophy and gift certificates for free ice cream.  Perhaps not the best of prizes, I’ll grant you that, but winning was more a matter of pride.

When we arrived at the performance hall, aka the gymnasium of our bitter enemies, Bach and I unloaded the instruments from the van.  This included the drums and everything else too large to bring on the bus.  Afterwards, he grabbed his bass guitar and flute and I my trombone, and we headed inside.  We were walking past the cafeteria when we heard it.

“Hey look, it’s the flute loop!”

We looked to see Tony Snyder strolling toward us, saxophone case in hand.  He had that cool confidence that most sax players had.   The saxophone commanded respect, and was known for its sensual sound.  Tony needed the help, too.  Though not bad looking per se, Tony’s voice was grating, and I never heard anything intelligent come out of his mouth. 

Devin Stern walked beside him.

Bach rewarded Tony with a silent glare.  He couldn’t stand the guy any better than I could, and for obvious reasons.

After a moment, Tony went on.  “Get it?  It’s like calling you a fruit loop, except you play a flute!”

I stared at Tony in disbelief.

“I get it,” Bach replied through clenched teeth.  “I just don’t care.”

“Oh look, we’re making him treble with rage,” Devin chimed in.  “Is he going to do anything about it?”

Maybe the clever nature of that joke was what finally prompted a response.  Hefting the bass guitar he held in his right hand, Bach pointed it at Devin.  “You keep it up, and I’ll put a bass clef in your chin with this.”

I know what you must be thinking.  Band geeks can be strange creatures.  Yet I loved Bach’s response.  As we walked away from the brief verbal assault, I couldn’t stop giggling.

The rest of the concert went off without a hitch.  We played our set.  Bach played the first two songs in the flute section.  When we got to our last song, a jazzier piece, he set his flute off to the side and donned his guitar.  All in all, we sounded great.

Unfortunately, the other band won.  We watched as they did a victory lap around their gym.  I felt mildly annoyed, but being as it was my band camp performance, I decided not to let it bother me.

Then I heard Bach’s angry voice.  “Who did this?”

It only took a brief glance to see why he was so mad.  Someone had gotten a hold of his flute during our last song and stuffed it with cotton balls.  The fibers were tangled with the keys.  It would take forever to get it cleaned out.

“I’ll help you fix it,” I promised, eager to cheer him up.  Meanwhile, I wanted to strangle Tony.  I had no doubt he was involved, though there were probably others.

“Thanks, Bones,” he said gratefully.  Then he handed me the flute and guitar.  “Can you put these on the bus for me?  I’m going to help load the rest of the stuff in the van.”

“Sure.”

Soon we were all on the bus.  Bach and I sat in the back.  I used my small fingers to pry out the cotton balls, though it was a slow process.  Even so, Bach had a sly grin on his face the whole way.  About halfway back, I learned why.

I saw the car first.  It was loaded with students who I immediately recognized as our rivals.  Someone was leaning out of the passenger door waving a fist at us.  “What do they want?” I wondered.

Looking back, Bach laughed.  “They probably want their gong back.”

“What?”

“I loaded their gong into our van,” he replied slyly.  “I wasn’t sure who trashed my flute, so I decided to get back at all of them.”

I was stunned.  “How did you take the gong without anyone seeing it?”

Bach smiled wider than I’d ever seen before.  “They were too busy gloating.  Distraction was instrumental to my revenge.”

Volunteer

Once again, I'm treating you this Tuesday with a piece of flash fiction that I wrote for Flash Fiction Flourish.  Enjoy!

Volunteer

Outside the open window, I see miles of city skyline.  I don’t dare look down, but I know it’s going to be a long drop.  I volunteered for this, but faced with the reality of my decision, I’m having second thoughts.

Prompt provided by Flash Fiction
Flourish via MorgueFile

“It’s safe,” Joran insists.  He’s here to ensure I follow through with my end of the bargain.

I laugh.  “As if dying can be considered safe.”  I adjust the cap that’s been wired to my head.  It will read my brain activity during the experiment.  Yet it would be hard pressed to explain why a young woman would do this.

Since my brother died, I’ve wanted to understand death.  With reassurances that they can revive me afterwards, I have a chance of finding what I seek.

Taking a deep breath, I lean out the window.  With eyes closed, I push myself out until I feel the pull of freefall.

150 words

The Immaculate Association

Here's another Tuesday Treat dedicated to flash fiction.  The prompt from Flash Fiction Flourish inspired this week's piece.  Enjoy!

The Immaculate Association

The robed human male known as Brother Ron approached the leader of the Sargarian delegation, known more commonly as the Grand Wen.  A sneering green scaled face indicated disdain.

First contact between humans and the lizard-like species started out on reasonably good terms.  Unfortunately, the mingling of two species resulted in various kinds of cultural clashes.

“We have met with enough of your missionaries,” the Grand Wen announced firmly.  “We have no interest in whatever religion you might be selling.”

“Missionaries are salesmen of a different kind,” Brother Ron assured the assembly.  He set down a trunk.  He popped it open and pulled out a cylindrical mechanism with a long hose.  “We of the Immaculate Association believe that cleanliness is next to godliness.  Our mission is to ensure your people have access to a variety of cleaning products guaranteed to make your lives easier.”

145 words

Persistence is Key

Though the great Ray Bradbury passed away earlier this year, his words will live on forever.  For those of you out there who, like me, are struggling to make a place for yourselves in the writing world, here is an interview that may inspire you to keep going.  Even the greatest writers among us had a hard time of it at first, but persistence pays off.

If Ray says it's true, then it must be so.

                                 

The Power of Music

We've all had that moment.  You've heard a song so many times that it feels like it lives inside your head.  The feeling is maddening, but every once in awhile, you find yourself singing along to it when it comes on the radio.

Or you secretly like a song, but you feel embarrassed to admit it.  No matter how much you want to hate it, you have to keep listening to it.

Both of these situations can lead to what you're about to see in this video.

It's uncontrollable.

It's like the music takes you over.

The catchy lyrics and memorable tune turn you into an idiot, but the worst part is this.

You kind of enjoy it.

A Sweet Tuesday

This is going to be a lazy week for me.  I should probably warn you about that.  With it being a holiday week, which my husband has off, nothing is going to be normal for me.  Yes, I'm still sticking to my posting schedule, though I doubt I'm going to be doing anything elaborate.

I just thought I would quickly share this one thing that I saw on Facebook.  After reading, feel free to let me know what you think of it.  Do you think it's just meant to scare someone, or do you think it's actually true?  If true, do you think it's justifiable or not?

Taken from George Takei

Personally, I find it funny.  If you steal from others, it can always come back to bite you.

I'll Treat You With Part 4

For those of you who wish to read this story in one sitting, I've created a separate page for it to make your lives easier.

Also, here are the links if you want to hop to something specific.

Part 1: The Sounding
Part 2: The Blank Slate
Part 3: The Infinite Jest

The Absurdity

Part 4: The Third

After walking around above the universe for what must have been hours (at least from my perception of time), I’d seen supernovae remnants, nebulae, and even a black hole.  We spent several long minutes watching the black hole.  I couldn’t help thinking that the covert nature of it, the way it waited in the fabric of space-time while the rest of the universe continued to operate without being aware of it, was like this place I now inhabited.  Before I began to hear the sound, I never knew this world was here.  A now I’d been pulled in, and Jester had cut off my only way out.  Yet, I wasn’t sure I should be upset about that.

“The power of the black hole is impressive, but I wouldn’t recommend thinking about it too much,” Jester warned.  Even as she said this, a quick glance showed that she too was invested in the sight.  Her vibrant green eyes seemed to be descending into the singularity along with the heavenly objects below.  “I’ve seen worlds inhabited by billions pulled inside.  Part of me wonders if they were real.  I could never be sure, and I didn’t really want to know.  Having knowledge of that kind of loss can overwhelm you.”

“I can only imagine,” I muttered.

Jester’s hand was suddenly grasping my elbow again.  “Come on.  There’s more to see.  We’ll have plenty of time to explore this room later.”

I blinked uncomprehendingly.  “This is our entire universe, right?”  There were no visible boundaries around me, so I could only imagine this indeed encompassed everything of the universe I came from.

“Of course, it is.”

“And this is only one room?”

Jester nodded.  “It is a lot to take in at first,” she admitted.  “That’s why we need to use shortcuts to get from one room to another.  By foot it would take forever.”  She casually opened another gateway.

“You need to teach me to do that,” I said.

“I will,” she promised, “but one thing at a time.  You need to see more of this place before I can do that.”

Gripping my hand, she pulled me through to the next room.  I had no idea what to expect, but this next room still managed to surprise me.

We stood on the edge of a dense forest.  Behind me, there was nothing but water.  In front of me, two paths originating at the same point snaked away from one another.  One of the paths was solid dirt without any overgrowth.  The other was covered with patches of weeds and fallen branches.  It would be a difficult one to traverse.

“Where do we go?” I asked.

Jester smiled, though it felt like a nervous gesture.  Her eyes had lost the spark I first noticed in them.  

“That’s up to you.”

I hesitated.  Why had her attitude shifted so suddenly?  “Is this a test?”

She shrugged one shoulder.  “I suppose you could call it that.  It’ll tell me if you’re ready to see the rooms that lie beyond this.”

“And if I fail?”

“Then you need to decide if you want to stay here based on what you’ve seen so far, or if you’d rather go back,” she replied softly.  As if the prospect of this decision being made right away worried her.

I looked at the two paths.  The one that looked well-worn had obviously seen a lot of traffic.  Had she tested people before?  Who used that walkway?

Then I looked down the other.  No one went that way.  If others had taken this test and failed, then they certainly hadn’t gone that way.  Did that make it the right choice?

My mind started ticking over the various possibilities.  I found some semblance of the analytical mind I must have had in my previous life.  Yet, for all the reasons I found justifying each choice, something felt wrong.  No matter which I chose, it seemed too simple.  For a place this strange, no answer could be that simple.

I took a deep breath as a new option came to life in my mind.  “All right.  I think I’m ready.”

Jester watched apprehensively as I stepped toward the tree line.  Instead of setting foot on either of the paths, I cut down the middle, stepping through the underbrush between the two.  I looked over my shoulder.  “Are you coming?” I called out.

When Jester stopped beside me, her grin was wider than ever.  She grabbed my hand again and held it tightly.  I barely knew her, but then again I barely knew myself.  Yet I knew one thing for certain.  I liked the way her hand felt in mine.




Part 5:  Portals

Time For a Story Treat

Like I promised, I tried to write the next installment of my serialized story.  And amazingly enough, I succeeded.

If you haven't yet read part one, I suggest you do so before reading this.  It'll make more sense (?) that way.  Click HERE to read Part 1: The Sounding.  I've added a link back to this part from there, so you should be able to navigate easily.

I present to you (drum roll) . . .

The Absurdity

Part 2: The Blank Slate

Warmth engulfed me as I passed through the hazy blue.  A faint electric charge in the air made my skin tingle.  I closed my eyes, knowing that if I was about to meet my death, I didn't want to see it coming.

The wind on my face seemed to be slowing down.  Gravity was losing its hold on my body.  My physical weight slipped away like layers of clothing.  After a time, I hardly seemed to be moving at all.  That's when I noticed something else I couldn't explain.

I was certain I dove off that edge head first.  The direction from which the wind had buffeted me confirmed that much.  But now the wind direction had changed, and I felt like what little momentum I still possessed had my feet moving ahead of me.  I considered opening my eyes to get my bearings, but I still couldn't forget what would be looming below me in the world I knew.  I couldn't risk it.

Then it came.

The tips of my toes gently came into contact with some kind of solid surface.  My feet were soon planted on the ground.  The sound revved up again, but it was different now.  It rang out from some indistinguishable point above my head, and there was an echo to it that it never had before.  Much of the noise seemed to be dissipating before it reached me, reducing it to the level it had been in the hospital.  Back there it was driving me mad, but after hearing how loud it could truly be, this came as a relief.

I finally opened my eyes.

The room I occupied was enormous.  At least it seemed like a room.  The walls were all incredibly distant, yet still visible.  When I looked down at the solid surface beneath my feet, I jumped back.  The floor was made of some kind of transparent material.  Far below, I saw a landscape of shifting colors: pinks, blues, reds, yellows, greens.  None of it matched up at all with the kind of patchwork landscape you might normally see.  This seemed more in line with an abstract water color, and seeing it below me only added to my disorientation.

I had to look up again to stop my knees from shaking.  Another look around the room showed that it was devoid of any other presence.

I had no clue where I was, and I was alone.  Yet this wasn't much of a change.

"It's good of you to join us."

I spun around to see a tall, bald man dressed in white.  A lab coat covered the white shirt and went halfway down his white pants.  He held out a device that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.  It made a few beeping noises as he ran it up and down the length of my body.  I watched in awe as he worked.  "Us?  I only see you."

"The others are waiting."

This still didn't answer my question, but I didn't bother with a follow-up.

Once he completed his scan, he analyzed a little readout that popped up.  It was holographic and hovered in the air in front of him, though it was written in a language that I didn't understand.  He nodded to himself.  "Follow me," he said without looking away from the data.

He waved with his free hand, and the air swirled and irised away, leaving a hole in the world.  He stepped through it without a second thought, while it felt like my feet were frozen to the floor.  I leaned forward, trying to discern what awaited me on the other side.  I only saw the light blue haze of this newest portal.

Come on, I urged myself.  This isn't any worse than jumping off a cliff.


This realization turned out to be what I needed.  My feet began to move, but this time I didn't close my eyes as I walked through the doorway.  The blue haze grew around me, obscuring my vision entirely for several seconds.  When I set my second foot down on the other side, the haze began to dissolve.

As the new room came into view, the only noticeable difference was row upon row of office desks, and each desk was occupied by someone in the same uniform that my escort wore.  I spotted him several paces ahead of me, and I hurried to catch up.

I soon found myself standing beside one of the desks.  I could see nothing unique to distinguish it from the others.  Another man, also with no hair, greeted the first man with a nod.  "We have a new blank slate," my escort said by way of introduction.

"Blank slate?" I asked.

Neither of them gave me a second thought.  "Do you know what his file says?" the man at the desk inquired.

"Just a drone.  Worked as an actuary.  Bored with his life, generally dissatisfied.  Slate wiped clean in a car accident."  The words came out devoid of emotion.

"We need to wipe his memory of being here.  Rebooting him should drown out the sound of the engines."  The new man leaned over to pull something out of a desk drawer.

"Engines?"  I don't know why I even bothered saying this aloud.  No one was at all concerned with me.

"We need to make sure there's no trace left before I take him back," my escort insisted.

"You can't take him back."

This new voice jarred me.  A young woman had suddenly appeared right beside me, so close we were almost touching.  She had long red hair tied back in an elaborate braid.  Jewels adorned her hair, making her sparkle in the unnaturally bright light of the room.  Her clothes made her look like a parrot exploded on her.

"Jester."  My escort sounded annoyed.

"Don't talk to me like that," the young woman insisted.  "You promised I could keep someone."  She looked over and flashed me a brilliant smile.  "And I want him."


Read Part 3: The Infinite Jest