Dear Moron,

As you may (or, after today's events, may not) be aware, the parking lot on campus is one-way. What that means is you go in one entrances, go through the parking lot, and, if you can't find a desirable parking space, you either go to the next one-way parking lot and repeat, or you go through the same parking lot again. These are, essentially, the only two options you have, unless you'd prefer to walk or cycle. There may even be more options that I'm just not thinking about.

However, one of your options is definitely not to back the fuck up when someone is right behind you.

Lo! and you did see a parking space so close, yet so far. You had pulled up too far to get into it. So, in all your mighty wisdom, you backed up once. You backed up again. I popped my gears into reverse. You still kept reversing you little mother fucker, and didn't even look back once until I honked my horn. You little douchebag, I could have run over someone in that parking lot. There were a lot of people out.

Next time, pay the attention to where you're going, or otherwise go through the parking lot loop like the rest of us, you Speshul Snowflak.

I hate, hate, hate you,

MeguminoKazoku

Just thought I'd put up a post to say I'm not dead and I will be putting up posts on writing, the Bhagavad-Gita, and anything else I think is pertinent. Don't hate this Livejournaler, hate the three jobs she works and the fulltime school she attends.

Noooooooo, I got pulled over not even thirty minutes ago! My left blinker wasn't working and a cop pulled me over. I'm pissed off at both myself and him. First of all, the little fucker was tailing me. I'm thinking, "what the fuck is wrong with you? Put on your fucking lights!" So I pulled over because I knew he was going to pull me over. If I'd slammed on my brakes, the front of his car would have been making out with my dashboard.

At least I only got a citation, though. Still, I fucking hate cops. I've had nothing but bad experiences with them. Poor cops. =.=

When we last left Arjuna, he was having doubts about killing people he has no quarrel with. Krishna, his charioteer (wish I had a god as a charioteer!), decides to pass on yoga--that is, the path of pure action. Krishna manages to evoke more confusion, however, because he tells Arjuna not to focus on action, but rather, on vision, because true Yoga has no "action".

I think Yoga in this context is very Dao-like. In Daoism, there's the concept of wei wu-wei. The most effective, efficient action is not really an action at all, because there are no external forces acting on it. That is, you don't think about what you're doing, you simply do it, becoming one with your actions.

Next up is (obviously) chapter four. For that chapter, I think I'll try reading the chapter right before I write the analysis instead of reading the chapter one day and writing about it the next. I'm not sure if it'll make any difference, but you never know!

I've recently become interested in critically evaluating the Indian work, the Bhagavad-Gita, which is an extract from a larger work called the Mahabharata. The Bhagavad-Gita is unusual in that, while its main characters, Arjuna and Krishna, are in a physical war, this lyrical book is largely concerned with the spiritual war.

Arjuna, with Krishna as his charioteer, sees that he must fight against friend and foe alike. He has to fight people he has no quarrel with. With that, Arjuna can't fight:

Thus spoke Arjuna in the field of battle [he'd been telling Krishna about how he felt about fighting], and letting fall his bow and arrows he sank down in his chariot, his soul overcome by despair and grief. (Chp 1, v. 47)

Krishna goss on to give Arjuna spiritual advice that, presumably, gives Arjuna the ability to go on.

I'm writing this entry after a brief answer to someone on the CreativeWriter community. The questioner reminded me of something that many writers don't realize, and that took me years to realize myself. That is, the disconnect between story and character.

"Show v tell". You'll hear this discussed again and again and again. . . and again in every and any writer's group. While there's certainly nothing wrong with the discussion, since we all need a review every year or so, it gets annoying having to type up the same thing repeatedly. It's also kind of annoying having to sit back while the conversation goes on. So, since other people have done it, and in the interests of my sanity, I'm going to write this definitive post on the show v tell issue.

My word is not law. What works for me may not work for you. Some published books will violate every "rule", or should I say "concept" I discuss here. This does not invalidate my post, because unless you're a literary genius, many of the ideas here will apply to you. Also be aware that almost every "rule" of writing has some kind of exception. I'll cover some of the major exceptions in th show v tell issue here. You'll have to tease out the rest yourself.

Just bandying eggs about for a community. Pay no mind.

They're so cute!

This is intended to be more amusing than rant-y or didactic. Feel free to suggest expansions, corrections, etc. on this piece.

Well. . . that last one wasn't very funny, was it?

Forgive me this indulgence, but I sometimes feel that when I speak of economical writing, many of the people I speak to have too small an idea of what it is. Usually, these are the people who need it most, whether they're so close to reaching a professional level, or if they're just starting out. I learned this the hard way, and would prefer to help other writers go the slightly easier route should they be willing to listen to me.

Economical writing isn't easy, but it isn't all that difficult, either. The most difficult part is knowing where you need to have few words as possible and where you can give yourself a little wiggle room. It can also be difficult getting your sentences to flow together, because they will naturally be a little choppy after your fix your sentences (or "streamline" them, as they terminology goes). As you're writing, try to keep economy in mind. This will make it easier for you to streamline sentences, then cobble them together.

One final note: I'm certain I've said it in so many words before, but it bears repeating, because this is another pitfall economical writers fall into. Entirely economical writing is rarely, if ever, anyone's natural style. It is, however, a very useful habit to fall into, because it's easier to expand sentences than to streamline them. So when you're writing, don't suppress your natural style, just keep in mind the concepts. You really will discover what does and does not work for your writing.

Happy writing, folks!

I am quite uncertain if you (that is, one of the moderating entities on the CreativeWriting community,) will see this entry or otherwise deign to read it, but in the interests of joining your community, I present you a letter.

I hope you will allow me to join your community because I love everything about writing and have had a desire to help other writers for several years now. I love writing critiques. I love reading others' writing. On occasion, I also love having my own writing critiqued. Ever since I have joined Livejournal, I have searched for active writers' communities, and CreativeWriter seems like it sees a reasonable amount of activity.

I think I will be a reasonably good contributing member. I may seem formal and stiff, but you will find that I am only like this when seriously addressing someone in a letter.

Thank you.

MeguminoKazoku

This evening I witnessed something that highlighted the importance of good grammar.

My next-door neighbor, Mrs. Stephanie, came over to my family's double-wide trailer to deliver some homemade snickerdoodle cheer. Mom, a sweethound as much as I am, immediately snagged one of those cookies and, eating half herself, split the rest of it between our two dogs, Umi and Ai.

Mom tossed a bit of cookie to Ai, who snubbed it. "Oop," Mom said, "Ai don't like snickerdoodles."

"What?" Mrs. Stephanie, incredulous look on her face, said. "You don't like snickerdoodles?"

"No, I like them. Ai don't."

"What?"

That's when Mom motioned to Ai, who had suddenly decided she did like the snickerdoodles after all. Mom and Mrs. Stephanie looked confused until I piped in:

"It's supposed to be 'Ai doesn't like cookies'."

Homophones make all the difference, don't they? Anyway, it just struck me how important good grammar is in situations like these. Mrs. Stephanie has a volatile temper, and things could have escalated very quickly.

So there's your lesson for the day.

Time for more: Japaaaaaan Journal!

6/23/06

Since I've crossed the International Dateline, it's the twenty-third. I'm here at the gate, waiting for the plane to Okinawa. It's currently overcast, but hot because it's humid. The scent of stale fish is heavy in my lungs.

Already I'm impressed by how polite many people are (I've run into a couple of assholes today, to be sure.) Most of the people here ask before they check your stuff, even if you have no choice in the matter, for example.

I visited the equivalent of a 7-11. Nothing really impressive, but I loved all the little treats: meron-pan, adzuki cakes, and my favorite, onigiri with sake in the middle of it. Grandma got some meron-pan for Grampa and she and I got onigiri. The onigiri is really greasy and a bit salty, but really good. Grampa wolfed his treat, not even taking enough time to note the custard oozing out of it.

The 7-11 had tons of manga, too. I wish I had my money on me because I'd buy some manga for Dekay at home. He loves manga. I might have gotten some for Angie, too. She's also a manga freak, more than Dekay is even.

I like the goofy way this airport is set up, too. Not that it's anything remarkable, it's just novel and I'm fascinated. There was this little doorway you entered than lead to a small maze of hallways with differenet shops and restaurants, as well as the restrooms at the end. You wouldn't guess so much could fit in so little space. The lighting was really eerie, too ambient for my tastes. It was like the glassy walls hemmed in one me. I was amused when I went to the restrooms and the stalls had huge, carpeted-looking doors. Know how in America the stall doors are metal and you can see people's feet under the doors usually? Yeah, it was different there so it caught my eye.

I was really amused to see people hopping into the stalls to smoke a cigarette, which you can't do any place in the airport, or anywhere near it for that matter. One man emerged in a cloud of smoke.

Space in Japan is at a premium. This kind of thing shouldn't grab me. I'll be a wreck when I do some actual sight-seeing.

Occasionally, I see huge groups of people pass by. These are usually the rude assholes. I've been nearly trampled more than once. Odd, though. When Grampa, Grandma, and I took an elevator and was crammed in with a bunch of these people, it wasn't so bad. And when it was time to get off, nobody seemed overly-eager to do so. Funny, funny.

This is just the stupid airport. They've got other interesting stuff here, too. There's a massive porcelain vase about twice as high as I am, for one.

Our plane is fifteen minutes late.

[. . . ]

We're finally in hot, humid Okinawa. I don't feel well, with all that bouncing and running around all day. I'm exhausted, running on the last stretches of a four-hour sleep. I'll spend the next three weeks here. I'll write more tomorrow.

Oh, and note to self: never eat airline food again.

6/24/06

I found out I'm spending only ten days here. It's a good thing because the place is way too small for Grampa, Grandma, and me, along with the woman and her mother we're staying with. We're staying in an apartment about the size of a single-wide, or maybe a little more toward the double-wide size. We're staying in the same room, with the woman and her mother in the room across from us, maybe three steps away. The kitchen and the living room are practically the same thing: one step and you're either in the kitchen or the living room. The bathrooms are like gym bathrooms, all tiled with drains in the floor for excess water. There's no doors for the shower or toilet, just polka dot curtains that flutter in the breeze. I hate that these people won't close the doors and give me privacy. Did I mention that airline food didn't set well?

I like our room, though. We're right next to the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony where we hang our laundry. The floor is parquet and fits maybe one tatami. We have a TV in the corner, and small sliding-door cabinets near the tatami.

It's humid! Your face feels sticky from it no matter what you do. Well, maybe not your face, but mine feels sticky. I'm making friends with my hankachi as we speak. Despite that, I mostly like this place. I just wish Grandma's friends and family would get it through their heads that I don't speak Japanese. I've read stories where people complain they speak Japanese but nobody will speak it to them. I've got the opposite problem. If I ever learn the language, I bet things will turn right again.

Going down the road, I notice the cars are a lot different here because the roads are narrower. Most cars are sort of squarish and squashy. They also look like they'd explode it you threw a bowling ball on the hood. In case you missed it: I wouldn't want to be in a car crash in one of those cars. We're in a van. It's much better.

I wish I could go back outside, but there's groceries to put away. I don't want to seem whiny, but when the humidity picks up, this place smells like catfood. Ugh, I'm tired, too. But that's just my biological clock trying to figure out what's up. My stomach is still messed up from that airline food. I hope it settles down some. All in all, I'm sound in spirit and mind. I figure my body will follow as soon as I get used to the changes.

And wow, look at those Fuji appples, they're bigger than my hand.