Ravings of a Textual Deviant

When I looked at Ravings first thing this morning, it was Not Right (as you may have already noticed). I’m nothing approaching a Moveable Type guru, so I tried the only thing I could think of, which was to rebuild the entire site. Dorothea, who kindly manages Ravings for me, is about to embark on her fifth anniversary trip, and I patently refuse to interrupt it with something this piddly. If I can hold my horses, so can you.

Looking forward to her getting back, though!

Update: Now it’s completely gone! I have a Zen blog.

Updated Update: It’s back, at least for now…

I just found out via email that a friend of mine is, even as I type, recovering from a sextuple bypass operation (six, count ‘em, six bypasses!) after a recent heart attack–very recent, as I talked to her on Monday, and I’m fairly certain she’d have mentioned a heart attack.

The latest word is that she’s “fine, per the doctor.” Exactly what definition of “fine” includes recovering from a sextuple bypass?

Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad it’s good news, but really…

Role Call #12 asks

In what pre-fab roleplaying setting have you had the most fun, and why?

I’d have to say that my current Thursday night D & D 3E group’s romp through the Temple of Elemental Evil has been been a blast, mostly because of the characters. My character is the only one in the group with even a smidgeon of good in her alignment. The rest of the group either couldn’t care less about evil, or actively promotes it. The only reason that we’re there in the first place is because we need the dimensional portal to get back to our home plane. When we found out about the plan to destroy the universe, we decided to stop it…not because destroying the universe is Wrong, but because the universe is where we live, and there aren’t exactly a lot of other options.

It’s fortunate that my character isn’t exceptionally bright. She’s decided that the characters who her player knows are evil are simply “misguided,” probably because they didn’t have happy childhoods. (Sean’s comment on this was that his character had a very happy childhood, thank you very much. On the other hand, he was raised by amoral necromancers…)

Ginger (and Meera) want to know

Name one lesson you learned in gaming that you will (hopefully) never have to learn again.

I would say that the most pertinent game-related lesson I learned is that Nobody Ever Looks Up. David Katz, the GM who got me into this in the first place, ran what I fondly (now) remember as the Dungeon of Death from Above. At the time, we were a bunch of novice players, and I swear, the only things we never saw were the ones that dropped out of the ceiling. Since then, I have been known to exploit this knowledge to the detriment of my players. I also developed the habit of looking at ceilings in real life. This has paid off on a couple of occasions, most notably during my tour of the Doge’s Palace in Venice. Trust me on this–if you’re ever in Venice, always look up.

A lot of people are having difficulty getting visas to come to or stay in the U. S. as a result of the recent homeland security legislation. Even if I didn’t agree with Benjamin Franklin that anyone who trades freedom for security deserves neither, I’d be concerned about the unintended consequences.

I think we’re really shooting ourselves in the foot here. A significant percentage of academic faculty members–especially in the sciences–are foreign nationals. So are a vast number of graduate students. Even those who manage to stay in the country may not be able to pursue their research because of new restrictions. And it isn’t just the sciences, it’s the arts as well. Plenty of professional dancers, for example, are foreign nationals. They move from dance company to dance company, all over the world, as well as guest starring in single productions. These people are in the country legally, they have good jobs, and they are dedicated professionals. They don’t have time to get up to mischief, even if they were inclined to do so at the expense of careers that they’ve been deeply committed to for years.

It isn’t just all of these bright and talented people who either can’t stay or can’t get in. Worst of all is the chilling effect on those people who might have decided to come to the U. S. in other circumstances, but don’t want to deal with our immigration policies. They’ll go elsewhere, and it will most certainly be our loss. And let’s face it, if the best and brightest can’t get in or can’t stay, what chance to the decent, ordinary, and hardworking have, let alone the oppressed and underprivileged? We’re going to destroy the American dream by protecting it to death.

Ed probably won’t get the job he interviewed for on Monday. However, as he was interviewed for a different job than the one he applied for, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, especially as I suspect they’ll keep his resume on file in the eventuality that the job he applied for opens up.

I have never understood why HR departments delight in doing that–interviewing you for something other than what you applied for–but I’ve seen it happen plenty of times. This leads me to conclude that HR departments are in one of Dante’s circles of hell, and not the one for virtuous non-believers.

This morning started out most atypically with a brisk, half-hour walk. I had to drop by the office of the contracting agency that I work for, and as it’s only four blocks over and three blocks down, I hoofed it. Took the most direct route on the way there, as time was of the essence, but on the way back, I took a few minutes to linger in a tiny park just across from the State House. The weather is absolutely lovely–mostly sunny, light breeze, and pleasantly cool. (Of course, my idea of room temperature is 62, so “pleasantly cool” in this case translates to about 45). It’s enough to make me think that there’s something seriously wrong with me for having voluntarily gone back into the stuffy old office building.

I just found out that one of my cousins, who lives in Toronto, is off to Princeton this fall. As it happens, Ed and I are planning a trip to Toronto around Labo(u)r Day. I emailed my cousins with congratulations, and let them know we’d be visiting. As it turns out, the family’s going to be in New Jersey moving her to school that weekend.

But it gets better…

Another (mutual) cousin, who lives in Detroit, will be starting school at University of Toronto this fall. His family will be moving him in over–you guessed it–Labo(u)r Day weekend. The end result being that whoever is in Toronto that weekend is welcome to stay at the house, and would the last person out please turn off the lights?

As much as I’ve enjoyed Buffy the past seven years, I’m glad it went out on a high note. I’m very pleased with the way the story ended, because it was so true to Joss Whedon’s original idea for the show.

It came from watching a lot of horror movies with a funny, gregarious, somewhat dim blonde who invariably gets killed, and I always felt bad for her. So I thought it would be funny to have that girl go into a dark alley where we knew she would get killed and actually have her trash the monster. From that came the idea for Buffy.

I was also happy with the fact that the last line before the end credits was “Buffy, what are we going to do now?” For me, the series finale of Buffy was the opposite of the series finale for Quantum Leap. Yes, it’s sufficiently open-ended for a succesor series to jump in with another story, but there was definite sense that this story was done.

And congrats to Ed, who correctly predicted the demise of both Anya and Spike.

Just in case you thought I’d fallen off the edge of the Earth, or something. Believe me, I’d much rather have been blogging. On the other hand, my friend’s stuff is on its way to Pennsylvania, and I am most pleased to see the back end of that situation. Other than that, it was a good weekend. My friend Rachel is back in town, having survived her first year of law school, and another friend from college was in town this weekend, and I got to see them both. I got my lines recorded for Starship II and had a nice visit with one of the Magic House Productions crew in the bargain. (Mark encouraged me to ad lib, which I appreciate as it meant I got to page Buffy Summers to the apocalypse.) The library acquired Steven Barnes’s Zulu Heart for me, which I devoured in record time. Barnes has an insidous sense of humor, which is one of my favorite things about his work.

So far, taking advantage of other peoples’ good natures is working out fairly well. My bike is now in better shape than I am–and I’ve been trying to get that thing into the shop for over a year an a half. (Thanks, Mom) I even took it for a test ride last night. Except for the fact that the seat’s a few inches too high (and may I say, OW!) it’s great. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed riding my bike. It was my preferred form of transport while I was an undergraduate, and if I’d kept it up during grad school, I probably wouldn’t be worrying about how to lose 40 pounds eight years later. Unfortunately, Indy is about as far from bike-friendly as you can get, once you’re off the Monon Trail, and I’m in no shape to leave the neighborhood right now anyway.