Monday, May 29, 2006

Invasion


Here is the edited, altered version of the chapter I posted a few days ago and then took down because it wasn't flowing the way I wanted:

[My journal of alien contact]

I have bad news. ISAP is threatening to recall the Kookaburra IV from the Alpha Centauri-A meeting point. In response, two out of three of the major private sponsors are threatening to pull the plug on their funding of our space program. Mieko Alleyne-Cates III, the third sponsor, says that if her colleagues try such a stunt, she will personally turn those sponsors inside-out like the proverbial sea-cucumber. Still, I don’t know. Money and threats will only go so far. We need the Kookaburra to go further.

“We are five years away from first contact!” Alleyne-Cates said. “Five years! We have been so lucky and it’s ruined us. Up until now, nothing’s gone wrong, and we’ve all gotten a bit spoiled as a result. Has everyone really forgotten about the Challenger and Columbia space-shuttle explosions of the twentieth century? What about Mars? Mars was major. Mars just about shut us down for good.”

“Now, one little escape-pod from the Kookaburra goes missing, and everyone is talking about ‘the failure of the mission,’” Alleyne-Cates said.

“What are we worried about?” I asked. “All reports say that the celestronauts on the escape-pod are probably alive and have a good chance of rendezvousing back to the Kookaburra.”

“The Sartereans don’t think so,” Alleyne-Cates said. “They know our celestronauts are supposed to be in hibernation. Something has gone amiss, and they’re awake now. I really don’t see what the big deal is. But no, everyone’s lost their common sense.”

Alleyne-Cates smiled as if it pained her to do so. “It doesn’t matter how much we praise intergalactic communication and set our hopes on first contact with people from other planets. Deep down inside, we’re all worried about space-invaders.”

I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly. “What does the escape-pod have to do with space-invaders?” I asked.

Alleyne-Cates replied, “That’s classified information. But even if it weren’t, you know exactly what one has to do with the other.”

Alleyne-Cates was giving me more credit than I deserved, but I thought about what she said. I knew that there were factions who were convinced that the Kookaburra was on a fool’s mission to meet aliens that didn’t actually exist. Other factions, however, thought that the Sartereans were going to attack Earth the first chance they got. Still, it didn’t add up… and then I got it.

“The sponsors think that the escape-pod is full of double-agents in league with the alleged Sarterean plot to conquer Earth,” I said.

“Yes,” Alleyne-Cates said, and then she turned away from me. “In the entire history of our planet, our quest for discovery has always been infested with ulterior motives. It is only human of us to assume that everyone else thinks the same way.”
I turned toward the TIC. I wanted to ask Zeke something, anything that would remind me of how silly everyone was acting. Zeke was waiting with a question of his own. Before I could say anything, though, Alleyne-Cates stopped me.

“Until further notice, the TIC is down for maintenance,” she said.



GLOSSARY

ISAP: International Space Administration Program, pronounced "Ee-sop."
Kookaburra IV: the spacecraft sent to rendezvous with the Sarterean spacecraft (as of yet unnamed) in Alpha Centauri A.
Sartereans: The intelligent species from the planet Sarter in contact with Earthlings, pronounced "Sar-ter-ray-ans."
TIC: Transgalactic Instantaneous Communicator, pronounced "tick."

Friday, May 26, 2006

Lambs of the Silence


I’ve only ever seen “Silence of the Lambs” once. After resisting it for years, I finally agreed to see it on a small screen with the understanding that I’d hide my eyes during all of the violent parts. (I practiced this method of movie-watching also with Friday the Thirteenth Part I, and was the only person at the birthday party who could get to sleep when the movie was over. After all, I did miss ¾ of the movie.) When Friday wrote in the comments section of my Backwards Films post, “I'd love to hear your take on the backwards version of something ghoulish, like Silence of the Lambs,” I knew I would need the help of a plot summary. Here, then, is my best shot:

The Lambs of the Silence


In a strange, alternative-futuristic world, Clarisse Starling, an FBI agent, gets demoted after letting anti-L'Oreal skin-care specialist “Buffalo Bill” get away to continue practicing his holistic treatments upon young women who are trying to shun the mainstream cosmetics market. She comes into contact with Hannibal Lector, a psychiatrist who is infamous for actually curing his patients instead of bilking them for all they’re worth. Hannibal Lector has been put in a maximum security prison, and yet he is constantly found to be healing the sick in mind and body. Clarisse has gone to Hannibal Lector to get help in finding Buffalo Bill again, because the senator’s daughter is in dire need of a chemical-free makeover. At last, the senator’s daughter finds Buffalo Bill, but despite all that Clarisse has tried to do, spurns Clarisse’s help. Clarisse is despondent, because she knows she will never be re-promoted to FBI agent, but she finds solace in moving out to the farm of her childhood. There, in a pastoral setting, Clarisse looks up into the clouds and finally finds peace and serenity in “the lambs of the silence.”

Invasion

I'm taking down this post. I've changed my mind. It is not the next segment of "Alien Contact."

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Backwards Films


Back in the olden days, if you played lps backwards (a.k.a. "records" for those of you born after 1988), you might hear some secret messages. However, if you play films backwards, you get totally different movies. Welcome to Backwards Films!

Here are a couple of my own contributions:

Flashdance
A dancer with the Pittsburgh ballet school tires of her prim, confining schedule, and decides to explore the realm of exotic dancing in nightclubs. Eventually, she discovers her true calling as a steel welder.

Grease
Sandy, a wild, spandex clad girl from Australia decides that a future with John Travolta is no future at all, and spurns him after watching him recklessly race his car backwards down Thunder Road. She straightens her hair, removes her make-up, and starts wearing dresses with Peter Pan collars. Rizzo, her best friend, feels betrayed by the change and gradually becomes more hostile toward her increasingly "square" friend. When all hope seems lost, Sandy and John Travolta meet upon a beach and kiss passionately. However, when John Travolta says, "This is only the beginning," Sandy responds that it is the end. And so it is.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Journal of Alien Contact

  • Part I

  • Part II

  • Page from History

  • Don't Talk of Mars

  • Planet Shaping

  • Invasion

  • Interlude


  • GLOSSARY

    Celestronaut: ISAP astronaut/cosmonaut/etc.
    ISAP: International Space Administration Program, pronounced "Ee-sop."
    Kookaburra IV: the spacecraft sent to rendezvous with the Sarterean spacecraft (as of yet unnamed) in Alpha Centauri A.
    Sartereans: The intelligent species from the planet Sarter in contact with Earthlings, pronounced "Sar-ter-ray-ans."
    TIC: Transgalactic Instantaneous Communicator, pronounced "tick."

    Pertwee Chronicles

  • Queen Anne Dollhouse

  • Bank Holiday

  • Toast

  • Belly-dancing to Metallica

  • Cigarillos in the Fireplace
  • Friday, May 19, 2006

    Rewind


    As you can tell, I've been going through a dry spell in blogging. It's tempting to take a break, but I really don't want to. I'm addicted to interaction. Today, rather than forcing the issue, I have decided to post some early blog entries that I liked, but that probably the majority of you have not read.

    Root Vegetables: my first real blog post on S & S.

    The Girl Who Cried Wolf: You want a story with a moral? Here's your story with a moral!

    Strong Spirit and Hands: How Bede and I got together.

    Brad Blurb: After posting this blurb about Brad the Gorilla, our favorite ape decided to start his own blog.

    Monday, May 15, 2006

    The King of France Needs Fancy Pants*

    I'm doing some young toddler (12-24 months old) programs tomorrow and next Tuesday. It's been awhile since I've actively worked in my chosen profession for actual pay, but I'm more worried about the commute than I am about the storytimes. Some people get stage fright. I get road jitters. The drive is always much better than I anticipate, but even after 5 years' driving experience I can still give myself goosebumps imagining horrid things that might happen along the way. Maybe my new trousers will inspire confidence:



    Note: The shirt is tucked in for illustrative purposes only! That way, you can see the draw-string with the star buttons attached:


    I was going to wear these trousers on Mother's Day, but I didn't even get them finished until last night. Now, I'm so pleased with them that I need to sing a happy little song:

    Thrift Shop, by Dan Zanes.

    I plan to learn the chords to this song, even though the F# is intimidating. Still, it's not as intimidating as the interstate highway.

    Wednesday, May 10, 2006

    Lucia's third birthday



    Happy birthday, Bumbelina! Here is a link to your favorite song of the moment (with accompanying video), the Nature Anthem.

    Tuesday, May 09, 2006

    No snickering in the library...


    ...unless you're hooked on Unshelved.--Seattle Times article

    I love this comic strip. As Bill Barnes, the co-creator of Unshelved points out, Dewey (the young-adult librarian) says the things people in service jobs think while they're smiling and helping out patrons who are having "difficult" days.

    I preorder all of the Unshelved books. One book has is autographed with a picture of Tamara, the children's librarian, performing jujitsu on an unsuspecting patron. My latest volume has a sketch of The Shusher next to the autograph. I have a "What happens in storytime stays in storytime" tee-shirt, but have refrained from getting the "Book Club" shirt simply because I am a poor attendee of book clubs.

    By the way, regarding "one of their spiels [that] involves an image of children's librarians as idealistic souls who jump and clap their hands when they're happy," I have just one thing to say in response:

    Yeah, what of it?!

    ***
    From the Unshelved website: Article Errata: It used to be true that 90% of our readers work in libraries, but these days we've gone more mainstream. That number is down to about 75%, which with 30,000 readers means a solid 7,500 of you need another excuse to be enjoying our brand of humor. And that photo of Gene and me? That was our "goofing off" pose. It stands to reason that was the one they chose for the article... --Bill Barnes

    Wednesday, May 03, 2006

    May-Pole


    Many little girls in my part of the world have a fascination with princesses. When I was a little girl, I had a fascination with queens. I didn’t spend a lot of time with other children until first grade, and I don’t think I had even heard of princesses until that time. I knew about queens from Queen Sara on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood ("Don't judge me!" as Nonny would say), and I liked the idea of wearing a crown and holding a scepter just fine. I made my own crowns out of cardboard and aluminum foil. I put up signs saying that people could bow or curtsey to the queen (i.e. me). Except for my grandfather, who said that he would curtsey if need be, no one obliged. I did not banish anyone to the dungeon, though. Noblesse oblige, after all!

    In second grade, I attended a first through eighth grade school in Newhall, West Virginia. For some reason,* the school celebrated May Day, complete with the May-pole dance, and a full court. Each grade chose a nominee for May Queen, then got her school photo pasted to a potato chip canister whereby we were supposed to put our coins inside for the person we wanted to win. (The school was always fund-raising, and this contest was yet one more way to get money.) The girls who didn’t win became May princesses, and got to hold court with the Queen on May Day.

    My teacher asked me if I wanted to be the 2nd grade May Queen nominee. I surprised her and myself by saying, “No, I want to dance in the Maypole dance instead.”

    My teacher was startled (as was I) and muttered something about my not necessarily getting to have that choice. Still, a few days later, my classmate Crystal and I became the 2nd grade representatives for the May-pole dance. We got to leave class periodically to go to the gym with the other dancers and learn to weave the long ribbons into an elaborately braided pole set on top of a car tire. We danced to a scratchy record that played “Greensleeves.” On the actual day of the performance, we got a bit muddled when the person who brought the Maypole to the center of the gym set it down slightly differently so that we couldn’t find our proper ribbons, but we were able to find our places (eventually) and start again.

    The parents in the audience got to watch all of the performances, as did the first grade queen and her court of princesses in their frothy dresses. While I was dancing, I felt a brief pang that I hadn’t decided to be in the court because the performers showed up, did their dance, and went back to their classrooms. Still, I was so glad to have been a part of the dance. Even at the time, I didn’t know where I had heard of May-pole dancing, but I knew I wanted to be a part of it. For me, the May-pole dance was a bright moment in an otherwise traumatic** second grade experience. I am thankful that I got to dance.



    *I think it might have had something to do with May 1st being Labor Day in some parts of the world. I lived in a coal-mining town, so this reason would have made sense. I don’t know for sure, though.

    **Until 1994, West Virginia allowed corporal punishment in the schools. My teacher would have sessions where she encouraged kids to tattle on each other and then the "culprits" would come up and be paddled in front of the entire class. I am not kidding.