Ravings of a Textual Deviant

John at SFSignal asks “what book turned you into a science-fiction fan.”

As odd as it sounds, I don’t remember. I’m a second-generation fan, and I remember watching Star Trek and Wild Wild West reruns with my dad when I was a toddler. Every summer, our family vacation was the WorldCon (or NASFIC, if the WorldCon wasn’t in North America.) When I saw Star Wars the first time, it was at a convention—they’d arranged a private screening at a theater. I learned to read before I was two, and although I know I had a huge pile of Dr. Seuss books, I don’t have a clear memory of my first science fiction book. (I do remember my first fantasy book, however—Petronella, by Jay Williams. I still love it—in fact, I think I still have it.) Combine that with growing up backstage at a ballet company and community theater, and I had a very thorough indoctrination into SF/Fantasy media by the time my age hit double digits. That said, the book that would have made me a fan, had I not been one, would be Douglas Adams’s Hitchhiker’s trilogy.

Me: Oops–did I say that out loud?
Tamara: Thinking is the one where your lips don’t move.

The Pope is currently receiving nutrition through a nasal feeding tube because of difficulty swallowing. Upon hearing the news, Terry Schiavo’s parents immediately filed a request in federal court to keep the Papal feeding tube in place. Jerry Falwell was not available for comment, but is reportedly “not hungry right now, thanks.”

The mutisymptom cold medicine was just crossing the blood-brain barrier yesterday afternoon as I strolled through the parking lot on my way home. Underneath a light pole, I noticed a pigeon lying on some very firm terra with its neck at an awkward angle. All I could think was “Did the bird jump, or was it pushed?” *Ominous music swells in the background*

You’ve got your character rolled up, a backstory with lots of plot hooks created, and you are perfectly equipped to survive in your environment. Only…you aren’t in your environment. Your GM has dropped you through a wormhole/dimension door/time warp/Stargate, and you are completely unprepared for so much as asking directions to the nearest bathroom-equivalent. From either a player or a GM perspective, discuss the pros and cons of a surprise setting switch.

As a GM, I love this tactic, because there’s nothing like starting your players out off-balance. At the same time, it drives me around the bend as a player, because I think I’ve signed up for one type of game, and I find myself in something else entirely. If you wanted to run a cross-dimensional campaign, why not just tell us, I grumble quietly to myself. Of course, I usually get over it in very short order, because a) I wouldn’t be playing if I didn’t want the GM to surprise me, and b) there’s nothing like appearing out of nowhere to get you interacting with the locals. By the time I’ve gone up a few levels, I can get into the idea that it’s not about creating a character that’s perfect for the environment, it’s doing the best you can with what you’ve got. Still, this tactic is like Third Rock from the Sun. The concept is at its best early on, and as the characters spend more time in the strange place, it becomes less strange, and so do they. That’s when the GM should let loose with the next big surprise.

My workout clothes are starting to get a little loose…even the ones with lycra.

The annual Stutz Artists‘ Studio Tour is coming up! I’ve always had a good time at this event, and as Cathy says, even if you don’t like what you see, there are plenty of things to make fun of. (Thanks to Amy for the reminder!)

Especially because I don’t even drink beer. Via Rob

Bacardi 151 Congratulations! You’re 151 proof, with specific scores in beer (60) , wine (200), and liquor (121).

All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient.

Apparently, I owe my brother and his girlfriend an apology. They parked the car in the driveway before the garage was full of stuff, too, because the car doesn’t fit into the garage very well. So if you can’t park in it anyway, it might as well be useful as a garden shed/storage unit. Nevertheless, it is full of stuff. Just sayin’.

As an unrelated aside, when I called him last night to tell him about the evening’s unlikely event, I also asked after his girlfriend, and the cat. Apparently, Kim wandered past right as I’d asked about the cat, because he said “She’s her usual cute-but-obnoxious self,” then turned his head away from the phone and said, “Not you—Scout.” (Kim is far and away the least obnoxious member of the family.)

I’m not the only one who’s out of character this week, apparently. Last weekend, my dad had asked me about yoga classes at the gym we both go to. I told him that the beginner-level class was at 5:45 on Fridays, and enthused about it wildly for a few minutes. I even loaned him my spare yoga mat. (Technically, it’s a Pilates mat, but they are more or less interchangeable.) And I said to myself, I wonder if he’ll actually show up. Unlike a lot of people, I think he’s gotten more mentally flexible as he’s aged…or maybe he’s just letting himself relax more. Anyway, I gave it even odds that he’d be there. He’s full of surprises.

When I got to class, he was already there, talking to the instructor. Go, Dad, I thought. So we spread out our mats and few more people wandered in and did likewise before the class started. “Pretty easy so far,” he observed, joking. “It’s about to get easier,” I told him, knowing that each class starts with us lying down on our mats, like kindergarteners at naptime. I didn’t tell him that it was going to be harder later.

Personally, I had a fairly good class, despite the fact that I’ve got a minor cold which can make inversions rather uncomfortable. My balance was on; good enough for me to get through about half the class with eyes closed. Every once in a while, I’d peek over at Dad. He did spend about half the class watching, with a “she wants me to do what?” look that you see on many first-timers’ faces. But for a novice in his mid-60s, he didn’t do too badly. And when I saw him on my way out, I asked if he planned to come back next week. “Probably,” he said.

Go, Dad!