EleCivil

Exactly - "global warming" is almost a misnomer. It gives the impression that we'll feel it getting warmer, or that it will snow less, or some such. More heat means more movement. This means more hurricanes, thunderstorms, and, yes, blizzards. But that's not that bad - humans are resourceful, they can adapt to weather. That's why they're living in the desert, the plains, the tundra, the jungle, and everywhere in between. More dangerous is its effect on plants and animals - we're talking climate change, not weather change. Changing the length of growing/mating/migrating seasons, the amount of rainfall in a given area, etc. can all be disastrous for agriculture. Changing the levels of precipitation vs. evaporation affects the water cycle - the Great Lakes are already showing signs of falling water levels. The tops of the Great Lakes aren't freezing, completely, in the winters - that means they spend all winter losing fresh water, rather than retaining it. It's not a "Day After Tomorrow"-esque instant deep freeze that's going do us in, or even the increased violent weather - it's slow starvation and dehydration as we screw with the growing and water cycles. Not with a bang, but a whimper. But, of course, no one wants to make a summer blockbuster out of a whimper. Heh. And that's not the only problem with melting ice caps. Polar ice caps consist of fresh water. The oceans consist of salt water. The organisms living in the ocean are adapted to a very specific saline level. As ice caps melt, more fresh water is released into the oceans, changing the percentages, and causing either mass migration or mass extinction. Combine this with the fact that our CO2 emissions are falling back into the oceans, changing them into a weak carbonic acid. Changes in salinity, acidity, and temperature (even one or two degrees) are causing what is believed to be a Great Extinction level event - ecologists are saying that there are more species going extinct every day than we can count. That huge population you mentioned that lives near an ocean? A lot of those civilizations depend on fishing. Even if they aren't submerged, the changes in fish population/migration could trigger mass starvation and an increase in poverty.

Aw, shucks. Heheh.

Ah, I couldn't forget that. Heh. During student teaching, I got into the habit of throwing random poetry quotes into instruction. A lot of Shelley, Hughes, and Dickinson, but Whitman came up a few times. "That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.... But don't contribute it right now, because the announcements are on, and we won't be able to hear you."

I'm trying to give up swearing. It's not that hard - it's not like I was a big fan of the profanity, anyway - but I figure that it'd cut down on my chances of saying something that could get me fired once I'm actually teaching. As such, I've been throwing around some rather colorful euphemisms, lately. They tend to make bystanders do double-takes (which, I'll admit, is true for a lot of the weird stuff that I do). Here are some stand-outs: "Matt Lauer!" and "Mothra Faulkner!" were both mentioned in previous blog posts, but they're worth repeating. "Grinnin' Bedlam!" "Horsemonger!" "Gorbachev!" "Dopefish!" "Andrew 'Old Hickory' Jackson!" "Smooth Endoplasmic Reticulum!" --- On the writing side of things... -Wrote the first two and a half chapters to a "Laika" sequel, but I absolutely hated it. Consider the project scrapped indefinitely. -Wrote three poems, currently posted in the poetry board. Used one of them to win a local poetry competition (the prize was a blank book with the words "Carpe Diem" inscribed on the cover). -Wrote the first six chapters of a sci-fi/urban fantasy story. It has two secondary characters that are probably my favorites out of everything I've written, and I'm having a lot of fun with building a plot around a home-made mythology. I don't know if I want to post this one, though. -Wrote a few pages and a decently workable outline for a new AD/CW story. Don't expect to see anything of it for a while - I'm still kicking ideas around.

That's because you didn't know me back in my Emo phase. EC circa sixteen? Scene'd up in the worst way. Funny thing is, that's when I thought I was straight. Haha. Heh - this is exactly why my friends know better than to start a conversation about punk subgenres when I'm nearby. Don't mind me. Just rambling about my newly rekindled appreciation for The N.o.U. - ...In other words, real emo.

This thread inspired me to dust off all my old Nation of Ulysses CDs - "13-Point Plan to Destroy America" and "Plays Pretty For Baby." Maaan, "The Sound of Jazz to Come" and "Look Out! Soul is Back!" are both better than I remembered. Maybe I've got some emo tendencies, after all. Now, where'd I leave my Cap'n Jazz anthology...?

Serious Answer: "Emo" started out as Emotional Hardcore - a subgenre/movement that began in the DC hardcore/punk scene in the mid-80's, really breaking out during 1985 ("Revolution Summer"). Rather than the generic "I'll kick your ass!", "Fuck the establishment!", "Go vegan/straight edge!", or, occasionally, "Go straightedge, establishment, or I'll kick your ass! Fuck, I'm hardcore!" lyrics that dominated the hardcore genre at the time, Emotional Hardcore dealt more with philosophical questioning of one's self, sometimes in highly abstract terms. Musically, Emotional Hardcore retained the energy and intensity of hardcore/punk music, but was more experimental, with live performances sometimes becoming almost jazz-like improvisations and shifts between fast, punky chugga-chugga chords and jangly arpeggios, playing with a loud/soft contrast. Same with vocals - bands would switch between whispery spoken-word readings and throat-shredding screams. The screaming was sometimes so intense that the vocalists would burst into tears on stage as their throats gave out and their voices cracked (this led to the stereotype among traditional hardcore kids that emo fans are wusses that cry all the time). Emotional Hardcore fans did not (and do not) wear makeup. They're typically dancing/moshing so violently that it would smudge into their eyes and blind them, which is a terrible condition to be in when one is surrounded by thrashing, fist-swinging, high-kicking hardcore kids. Traditional "emo" hairstyles include black, greasy "Mr. Spock" style hair and shaved heads with beards. Contrary to popular belief, Emo has nothing at all to do with... -Sappy acoustic love songs -Wuss-rock -MTV -The radio -Malls -Obsessing over exes -Self-mutilation -Fallout Boy/My Chemical Romance/Dashboard Confessional For some old-school emo, try listening to... -Rites of Spring -Moss Icon -Nation of Ulysses -Cap'n Jazz -Embrace For modern (but authentic) emo, try... -The Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower -Die, Emperor! Die! -Circle Takes the Square -Vincent Price's Orphan-Powered Death Machine -Transistor Transistor Pro-tip: Avoid like hell anything pretending to be "Emo" that is played on the radio or television. It's usually some form of generic pop-rock, dressed up by bloodsucking record execs to exploit a sub-culture that never wanted anything to do with money or fame. Also, it sounds like crap. Kind of like the stuff they call "punk." For the record: I'm not emo. I listen to some, now and then (mostly Moss Icon and Circle Takes the Square), but I don't dress emo or associate with the scene. ....That said, all you really need to know is the indisputable truth that emo guys are hot as hell. To quote the gay hardcore band, Limp Wrist: (from the song "I Love Hardcore Boys, I Love Boys Hardcore")

Potential Kinetic Built to specs then left to rest among The Midwest?s rusted cars I?ll be the brick that will reduce The Glass City to down to shards But stones just lie around Unless they?re lent momentum So I?m afraid I?ll need your hand Before I can gain velocity And change all this potential into Violent kinetic energy And smash the church, the state, The pride, the hate, The bosses, the cops, The chains, the locks. Until I?m thrown I?m left to languish And my stony surface crumble As I listen to the language Of the revolution turn to mumbles. And I call for compassion While my own heart?s growing colder Hear myself preach for community While I turn my bleeding shoulders On the game, on the streets, on the world. A brick just sits until it?s hurled.

New Heels ?The road!? Oh, he moaned, Tracing sidewalk cracks. ?Let me tell you something: Rubber soles against the road Is the only honesty left. Pavement?s the only lover Worth living for or with, And damned if my heels Ever stop kissing her Blushing concrete cheeks.? ?But what about people?? I contested, ?Even Fearless Leaders Can fall in love with something More human than an ideal.? ?People,? He replied, ?Are the ones crowding the streets With cars and bikes and SUVs. People are what we walk to escape. People are what kicked us to the curb In the first place, don?t you remember?? ?But surely, if people sent us here,? I countered, ?They at least serve the cause, Because without our lovely exile, We?d be civilized, and lost.? ?People,? He said again, ?Built the roads, but don?t walk on them. They spend hours in machines That do nothing but help them avoid one another. They blow their horns at us When we take too long at a crossing After we?ve been walking for ten hours And they?ve been driving for ten minutes.? ?But the code!? I argued, ?The code states that we walk for them!? ?For them.? He said. ?From them.? He extended his hands to his sides. ?And why am I defending myself to you? New heels, you?re still civilized, besides.?

Grinnin' Bedlam I?ll exist On the lips of strangers, Stragglers, And fools. I?ll persist To refute any patterns spotted Live outside the lines all dotted Grinnin? bedlam Smilin? delirium Falling, laughing in the street Gripping sides until I fall asleep Grinnin? bedlam My head?s its own asylum, see Without a touch of crazy I would prob?ly go insane I will dance To the songs inside my head And I?ll still be off-beat I can?t find A way to coincide desire For motion with the need To get some rest. Hard pressed To find a way outside The mazes in my mind Constructed Locked within Black iron walls Of preconceived notions And accepted narratives ?Or, not.

I passed student-teaching with an A, and I'll be getting my degree on Saturday. My students wrote me goodbye letters on my last day. Some of my favorite lines include... "Mr. EC the he has a cool hat." [sic] "The best thing Mr. EC did was freestyle rap with [X] in the computer lab, then drop his pencil on the floor like it was a mic." "I thought Mr. EC was really weird at first." [i find this one funny because I thought I was really weird the whole time.] "Mr. EC needs to keep being a straight-up G." "Mr. EC needs to come teach at the high school next year so I can have him again." "Mr. EC looks like the Hitman [see below], and that game is awesome." One student included a drawing of the ninja turtles, in which he misspelled both "Ninja" and "Turtles". But that's okay - I only had that student for science, not language arts. Pictured: Mr. EC prepares to serve as detention monitor. --- I went to the awards ceremony for my graduating class. No one told me that it was supposed to be a formal affair, so I came dressed to my usual slacker standard (purple and black checkered t-shirt with a large skull on one side, slightly frayed and baggy black pants, a black fedora cocked jauntily to one side, and my trademark macaroni necklace). Once I'm inside, I notice that every other guy in the room is wearing a suit, or at least a collared shirt and a tie. Heh. Oops. It reminds me of my freshman year, when I came to the invocation (presented, unbeknownst to me, by the Mayor) dressed in a similar way. The difference? This time, I was wearing my noodle necklace with confidence. At one point, the president of the student body came by to say hi, and did a kind of double-take. He asks "Why didn't you dress up?" I shrug, look around, and say, "Hey, this is how I always look. Why'd everybody else feel the need to change?" He opens his mouth, pauses, shakes his head, and mutters "I wish I was as cool as you, Civil," before walking back to his seat. I'm positive he was being sarcastic, but the whole interaction still made me laugh. Anyway, awards-wise, it turns out I'm going to graduate Magna Cum Laude (which probably isn't half as fun as it sounds). It was funny to see the reactions in the crowd when I went to get my honors tassel and they were all looking at each other as if to say, "Wait, the dude with the pasta necklace? Really?" The Curse of Greyface in action, ladies and gents. Ain't it sad? Now, on to looking for a job! When I find out what state I'm moving to, I'll let you know. --- "We are a new faith, We are a new face, We are everything In this world that personifies change." "A Necessary Change" by Trunks and Tales

Hey, no apology necessary - feel free to attach my name to that statement. I'm with you. Getting the government involved in matters of love? They can't even get matters of money right, and money's not half as complicated! Of course, as a Discordian pope, I have the authority to marry, bury, and baptize in the Discordian non-tradition. Granted, the government won't recognize my authority, but then again, I don't recognize the government's authority, so it's only fair. If anyone's in need of someone to officiate a Discordian wedding (same-sex, polyamorous, human-on-inanimate-object, or otherwise), let me know. Just...none of those one-man/one-woman weddings. That's been done to death.

Wow, it's been a while since I've written anything in here, huh? Well, I've got a fairly good excuse, this time - with my commute added in, I'm working about 13 hours every day. For no money. In fact, I'm paying about 10k for the privilege of working 13 hour days. That's right - I'm student-teaching. I've already finished up with my stint as a language arts teacher. Right now, I'm teaching science. Starting on Monday, I'll be teaching not only general science, but for one hour a day I'll be teaching forensic science - crime scene investigation stuff, like DNA fingerprinting, blood spatter analysis, and fingerprint lifting. This means that I get to stage crime scenes around the school, drawing chalk outlines and leaving bloody footprints and such. Fun, but it doubles my workload. I'm looking at 14-15 hour days, now. My 8 hour shifts on the weekends are like a vacation. I'm pretty much a coffee-fueled zombie. For more of my wacky, school-related adventures, check out the thread "8th grade is more exciting the second time." at Codey's World. --- A pothole ate one of my tires, the other day. Actually, not just the tire - the entire wheel was mashed to oblivion. I couldn't even change it - I had to call AAA, who actually had to chip away the old wheel with a chisel. The pothole had to have been at least five inches deep, and it stretched across an entire lane of a two-lane road - there was no way to avoid it. AAA had had so much business because of that pothole that they had a guy stationed there, so it didn't take much time. The mechanic suggested that I send the wheel to the city, so that maybe they'll get to work on that ridiculous pothole. --- True telephone conversation: EC: What are you doing? Friend: Drinking coffee, listening to techno, working. You? EC: Same, except replace "techno" with "NPR." Friend: ... EC: I mean, "punk." I'm listening to punk! Uh, hooray for anarchy. I'm definitely not listening to Garrison Keillor talk about Lake Wobegon, right now. Friend: See, this is why I can never tell when you're being sarcastic. "If ever I would stop thinking about music and politics I would tell you that sometimes it?s easier to desire and pursue the attention and admiration of 100 strangers than it is to accept the love and loyalty of those closest to me." "Music and Politics" by The Disposable Heroes of Hiphopricy

A lot of fascinating posts in this thread. Trab, your story definitely strikes a nerve with me. Well, I'd feel weird reading something like this and not responding, so here goes... When I was a kid, my only hope - my only real, deep aspiration - was to die. I wasn't suicidal; I was religious. I had been taught from birth to believe three basic principles: 1 - Not only are there demons and evil spirits walking the Earth, out to hurt me, but all of mankind is desperately evil and is out to hurt me, as well. 2 - All activities on Earth - art, entertainment, work, being with friends/family - are only a temporary distraction, and are essentially meaningless. 3 - Life is suffering, but once I'm dead, I'll be happy forever. This is because I've been "chosen"/"saved", unlike the vast majority of mankind, which is evil and is nothing like me. I never saw a demon or an evil spirit (though my Dad said that he had come under attack by them a few times, fighting them off by speaking The Lord's name). When I started school at age five, the other kids didn't seem evil to me. Still, I was convinced that they were just biding their time. I stayed away from them as best I could. I was terrified of the dark, and would refuse to enter a room unless the lights were on, for fear that a demon could be waiting inside to possess me. To cope, I carried a flashlight everywhere, even during the day, and if I had to venture out of the direct sight of my parents, I would sing hymns under my breath to scare off any demons that might be thinking about sneaking up on me. It also scared off other kids, which also made me feel better, because if they were scared by hymns, they must really be evil, after all. I wasn't like them. As I grew older, I was still afraid of demons, but even more afraid of humans, especially in groups. Hymns no longer seemed to work for me - I was still afraid. It came to a head when I was around ten or eleven, when I began having panic attacks during church services. Of course, to me, these weren't "panic attacks" to me - they were "demon attacks." I would run into the church basement, the singing of the congregation swelling above me, and slam my head against walls and support pillars while calling out to God, trying to drive out the evil spirits that were oppressing me. Eventually, my Mom found out what I was doing, and after a few years of trying to "work through it," she said that I could stop going to church. I haven't been to a church service since then, and I have not since suffered from a panic attack. I no longer believe in demons or spirits or gods. I still, however, have trouble thinking of myself as a human. I tend to look at people as strange, complex, terrifying, and beautiful, but above all else, foreign. Something to be studied and cared for, but I don't always understand how they work. I don't really understand what they expect from me, or what to expect from them. I used to find that very frustrating, but now I'm at a point where I can appreciate that confusion, that sense of chaos that creeps in when I'm around them. Around age seventeen, I began to realize that I was gay, but honestly, that's mostly in theory. I don't know if I could ever truly love a person. I don't know if I can feel things that strongly. I just find it difficult to take people seriously. Ever. My first instinct, upon seeing someone expressing an emotion, is to think that they must be joking around or faking it. It always takes me a second to remember that, no, that's just what I do. That other people really do say things like "Happy birthday" and "I'll miss you" and "I love you" and such, and that a lot of them probably mean it. That they might not just be saying it to fit in and look normal. The only thing I really understand is laughter. It's too hard to fake it, convincingly. It's almost always genuine, and it's something that I can instantly recognize. And you don't have to take it seriously. I used to hope to fit in with other people. I thought that maybe if I studied them enough, watched how they acted, I could stumble upon some kind of code that I had somehow missed, and act in accordance with that. I don't worry about that, anymore. I know the basics - how to respond when someone says "what's up?" (took me about 19 years to learn), how to properly talk on a phone (took me about 20 years to learn, but to be honest, it still shakes me), how NOT to act when someone appears to be upset (took me about 16 years to learn), etc. - so I can get by well enough to not draw attention. Otherwise, I'm weird as hell, and that's fine by me. And I know that all of this might sound sort of angsty and depressing, but it's not. Not to me, anyway. I'm happy. I like where I am, I like who I am, and I like what I'm doing. Call me crazy ('cause I totally am, heh), but I think I'm the least depressed person I know.

That's kind of weird, unless you're writing first-person autobiographical, like James said, or doing some kind of meta-fiction thing where you're blurring the lines between fiction and reality. I recall Steven King making some appearances in Steven King's Dark Tower series and interacting with some of his own characters, leading the character Steven King to start believing that he was some kind of god. Claudio Sanchez, author of The Amory Wars, has stated several times that he seriously regrets naming his main character Claudio. Of course, he also did some meta-fiction stuff, in which he wrote about both Claudio The Writer and Claudio The Character, and how the negative experiences of The Writer in the real (fictional) world affected the way he wrote about the fictional fictional world of The Character. So he kind of wrote himself into the story twice. Those are the only examples I can think of, and they both worked for me.

Agreed. I found it kind of funny that you get the same amount of "impurity points" for, say, urinating off of a tall building as you do for screwing a giraffe. Even if you KNOW that there weren't any people down there, and, come on, the restroom was all the way down on the first floor, and... I think I've said too much.

89.6% Pure as the driven snow! ...but mostly because "Not yet, but now that you mention it..." doesn't count toward your score.

Come to think of it, this talk of lettuce-like veggies on pizza reminds me that I've tried both spinach and seaweed on pizza. Both are good, but the seaweed is better. Of course, seaweed is good with anything.

It's a "no frickin' way" for me. Dude, I feel guilty when I swat mosquitoes - to quote another line from the book in my signature, "I apologize to bugs before I kill their asses." I have no problem killing spiders, however. So, I guess the answer would really be "I could kill someone in cold blood, but only Peter Parker." (I believe I've got an old blog post about that, actually...yeah, right here. Wow, apparently I've been blogging here for more than two years.)

Heh. Over here, their name kind of depends on who's wearing them."Badges" are for cops."Buttons" are for little kids."Pins" are for punks/moshers/hipsters (who receive one Official Punx Point for each thing attached to them via sharp piece of metal ).

Prior to going vegetarian, I'd always get anchovies on pizza. Now, if I order a pizza, it's along the lines of: Feta cheese Banana peppers Black olives Blame it on an entire generation being raised by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, who taught us that pizza was the food of fun-loving, crime-fighting, sub-terrainian, genetically-altered surfer-dudes. I mean, come on - who wouldn't want to be like them? (Donatello was my favorite. He studied science and hit people with sticks.)

Since the first season of The Simpsons was in 1987, Maggie's got to be at least 21. Perfectly legal. She's just a very short, clumsy, mute 21 year old with a severe case of jaundice. Granted, that's not really my "type", but, hey, who am I to judge? The problem with this ruling is that it seems to depict fictional characters as "exploitable". This opens the door to applying the rule to written fiction. What's the difference between looking at a fictional underage character and reading about one? What about the case of fan-fiction, in which characters portrayed by underage actors (Harry Potter fan-fictionists, I'm looking in your direction) are described in sexual ways? Also:

Nope (but that's probably my most frequently asked question). Civil is just an old neighborhood nickname. Don't get me wrong - I'm not knocking Michigan. I think it's pretty cool up there, actually. The town I'll be in reminds me a lot of how I pictured Curson, MI, in Laika. I'm just annoyed that I have to drive more than an hour to get there every day. Heh. Yeah, that's kind of my trademark hat. A lot of people who don't know my name will come to request my services at work, asking for an appointment with "That pinhead guy," referring to the hat. At least, I think they're referring to the hat...

I've been driving around to various historic locations, getting pictures for a travelogue I'm writing for an Ohio History course. It's a lot of fun. I'm seeing a bunch of towns, cities, and even parts of my own city that I never usually see. Here's a picture of me at Fort Meigs, watching suspiciously for the British Navy (Camy, I'm looking in your direction - you'd give me a heads up if you guys were going to give it another go and put us colonists in our place, right?). [image removed] Also, I've been given a student teaching assignment. Looks like I'll be driving for more than two hours every day for four months. So, that'll suck, but once that's done with, I'll be done with college. For a while, anyway. My placement is way out in the boonies in Michigan. It's weird. I'm used to the Big City ™, with our graduating classes of 600+ and our businesses that are open past nine. To get to my placement, I have to leave the city, then drive through roughly thirty miles of corn. Fun stuff, right? But it'll be cool to see how a rural school differs from the urban and suburban places that I'm used to. Funny story, though - I'm at the school with my adviser, waiting to meet with the cooperating teachers. We're both dressed in black suits, and I'm wearing a black fedora, cocked jauntily to one side. A student walks through the room, sees us, does a double-take, and just mutters "Whoa." I think she thought that we were there to erase her memory to cover up extraterrestrial activity. Or maybe sell some bootleg gin at the school's floating craps game. Anyway, I've gotten a look at exactly how much work I'll be doing for these next few months, and it's not pretty. Don't expect to see much of me between January and June. "Wisdom, it comes, but age don't unlock it: You've got to spend all the passion you've found. With more change in their heads than in all of their pockets, Some can show you the way to slow down." "Bones" by Christians and Lions