SciFiJedi.com

The other day I picked up the newest Entertainment Weekly Normally I don’t read this magazine. I like the Stephen King essay in the back and some of the book reviews, but sometimes it’s so shallow I couldn’t get my big toe wet in the puddle that is their gene pool, but they got me with a Spiderman III picture. And the promise of the scoop on 115 summer movies.

It’s hard to believe it’s that time of year again, a geeks favorite time of year. Not only because we can break out our sandals and white sock ensemble for another year, but the movies, oh the glorious, action packed, butt-kicking, web-slinging movies.

So, here’s the ones I’m looking forward to the most. In no particular order, as my brain doesn’t work that way.

• Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Okay, I have a few issues with the books, and the last two movies were lacking in the story line a bit, but visually these movies are always stunning, and watching these kids grow up is so cute I might slip into a diabetic coma. Out: July 13th
• Spiderman III: What’s not to love? Three bad guys, a black spidey suit, possibly another woman, and Tobey Maguire going all dark and angsty. I love dark and angsty. Out: May 4th
• Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. Johnny Depp channeling his inner Keith Richards (who will play Captain Teague) complete with more eyeliner then a Vegas brothel, I am so there. I have to admit, I’ve been a Depp fan for years, nappy dreads or not. And While Mister Bloom grates on my nerves (it’s not his fault, it’s the whole Elf thing) I still can’t wait for this one. Out: May 25th
• The Simpsons Movie. They’re yellow, they poke fun at religion, society, Hollywood, and TV. They’re animated deviants after my own heart. Out: July 27th
• I Know Who Killed Me. I have no idea what this movie is really about. But the title coupled with the fact that it’s starring Lindsey Lohan, well that does it all for me. If Lohan dies the gruesome horrible death promised that’s worth the price of admission for me. Out: July 27th
• 1408 This one, based on a short Stephen King story, looks promising. If a bit experimental. It’s about a hotel room that becomes the occupants own personal hell. Mine would include Paula Abdul, Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Elves, and certain relatives that will remain nameless (you know who you are and I want my CDs back).
• Stardust: Anyone who knows me knows I’m a Gaimen fan, hell anyone who’s given this blog more then a cursory glance can see that. I’d sell my soul for an hour to pick his brain, too bad I all ready sold it for chocolate and a good cup of coffee. Oh well, my mom always told me I should have higher standards and I never believed her. At any rate, this movie has been compared to another of my favorites; The Princess Bride, but with an edge. I know the book and graphic novel are awesome as I’ve read both and they do indeed have a lot in common with the Princess Bride . And from what I’ve seen in the trailers, it looks like they’ve added quite a bit to the story line while staying as true to the book as possible. And with stars like De Niro, Clarie Danes, and Michelle Pfeiffer I’m hoping this is everything the book was and more.
• Shrek III: I just have to see this out of some perverse sense of loyalty. And cause I’m hoping Justin Timberlake dies. Sorry Jusitn, you’re not as annoying as Lindsay Lohan I’ll give you that, but that’s all I’m giving you.

Okay, those cover all the bigger movies I’m really dying to see. There are a few that I know I’m going to end up watching eventually but that I won’t be sure of until after I see them. Transformers would fall into this category, to be honest I laughed out loud when a friend told me how excited he was they were making this movie. It just sounded preposterous. It still kind of does, but after looking at the trailers I realized I’d have to see it for myself. There is also The Bourne Ultimatum, The Invasion, Evan Almighty, Pathfinder, and Disturbia on my list of maybes. As in maybe I’ll watch it, maybe I’ll avoid it.

Oh and on a side note. I know Tony is really looking forward to the movie Sunshine. He’s all revved up to see the great special effects, and solid scientific principles. Here’s the proof.

I just finished a new book by a new author Patrick Rothfuss a few months ago; the book is called The Name of the Wind.

I’ve been planning a long winded gushing review for weeks now, but circumstances prevented me from doing so. Prepare for the gush.

First off, and because I suffer from the delusion that you actually care, I feel the need to describe my reading of the last few months. It can be summed up like this: I’ve been avoiding epic fantasy like a solider avoids syphilis while on leave, and with a good deal more success I’d imagine as epic fantasy is easier to spot. It’s not because I dislike epic fantasy, but because of late I’ve found it unsatisfying. Lots of foreplay, little pay off. Not that I don’t like big men with big swords, I enjoy a phallic symbol as much as the next girl. But I’d like my men with swords to have some depth, my damsels to be smart enough to do their own rescuing from time to time, and my wise wizards to be able to do more then just spout off stuff that sounds like it came from some New Age book. What can I say, I am a chick, I like characters. Occasionally I get lucky, I won’t deny that. I run across a great piece of epic fantasy that sticks in my head for weeks on end, that I have to finish as soon as I pick it up. A book that makes me think, inspires me to pick up my own pen, and just generally gives me chills. The Name of the Wind does all that and more.

I rarely say this but this is the best epic fantasy book I’ve ever read. I knew from the jacket blurb I was going to like it, but after the prologue I was hooked. Here’s a sample.

It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one excepts from a drinking house during the dark hours of the night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.

The prologue is only one page, and involves that three kinds of silence, but the language is so lovely, so visual, and so spot on it drew me in immediately. And I was more surprised when I found that the first chunk of the story to about page 53 is written in third person, and involves the “current” story line. Eventually the main character, Kvothe, begins to tell the story that brought him to that moment to a scribe. He tells of his youth in an acting troupe, of his time living as an urchin in the city streets, and subsequently his acceptance into a university that teaches…well magic of course.

To anyone reading this and thinking they have it all pegged, or that this story reminds of them of hundreds of others, and there’s nothing new here. You’re wrong. I know, I thought the same thing.

Like I’ve said, I’ve rotted my brain with more epic fantasy then any one person should lay claim to. And at those moments when I thought I knew where he was going, I was proven wrong. Sure, there is that level of predictability. Rothfuss is dealing with archetypes here. But rather then showing you the same archetypes, we’re taken on a little journey in what it takes to make a myth. On the man behind that myth, and on all his flaws, and weakness, and loves and hates. Kvothe spends most of this book getting beaten down just as much as lifted into story. He’s just a child after all, one still learning about the world, and women, and politics.

And it’s not just the epic personality of Kvothe, it’s the mundane details, those little things that make a story so real, that really brings it to life. From money worries to actually having to relieve one’s self (will wonder’s never cease) he doesn’t forget those little things that make the story so much more vivid.

I found it fascinating the way he layered the first person and third person narrative. Part of the problem with writing in first person is that a level of suspense is taken from the story because you know that your main character isn’t going to die (at least not if the author’s following certain writing rules and let’s face it we all feel cheated when those rules are broken). But by playing that third person story line up to its full potential we get that drama back ten fold. A good portion of the theme in that part of the book is given over to the fact that Kvothe has told himself he’s just a humble tavern keeper, and since the stories we tell ourselves dictate who we are, that is what Kvothe is becoming. He’s losing those parts of himself that had been more, much more.

It’s not just emotional death we need to worry about. There is also the threat of some kind of demon spider, called a scraeling. Somehow these scraelings have something to do with Kvothe’s past, or he’s run across them before, but I feel there is a connection between him and them, perhaps one that will come out in later books.

Kvothe is himself one of the strongest characters I’ve seen since Jacqueline Carey’s Phedre in the Kushiel’s series. And it’s not just the strength of the character, but the excellent characterization that I’m impressed with. From the moment I read the book jacket I could hear Kvothe whispering in my ear, and every time I put the book down he called me back. He is a compelling character to say the least.

Basically, this is a near perfect epic fantasy book. One I would proudly give to a friend to showcase all the positives that the genre has to offer. It was moving, funny, gut wrenching, and awe inspiring. And I think we should all be keeping an eye on Patrick Rothfuss in the future, he has a long and rewarding future in front of him.

Oh, and on a side note, Patrick’s blog is entertaining, and humorous. Couple that with the picture of him in his Joss Wheadon is My Master Now tee, and well…kindred spirits are truly a beautiful thing. Getting all chocked up just thinking about it.

I have to admit, I’m not feeling all that funny these last few days. Hell, I’m not feeling all that amused in general. Which is odd for me. I always try to find the humor in everything. The worse it is, the harder I look for that one flash of humor, like a match flaring in the darkness. The world is a lot less intimidating when you can find the ridiculous in it.

I wonder if that’s why I enjoy fantasy so much, the escapism of it. The sense that no matter how bad it gets, and even when it ends tragically, there is still a sense of order, a sense of logic. Something sorely lacking in the “real” world.

In good fiction things make sense, rules are followed, characters introduced are rarely left behind, death–while tragic–makes sense. In books people get to say their good byes, love seems less complex, feelings more easily expressed. By the time you reach the end of a good book, no matter how sad it was, you get the sense of completion, the sense that everything will eventually be okay for the characters you’ve come to love. That’s not so in life. Not as much as I would like at any rate.

Fairness, rightness, poetic justice those are the things the world could use more of. But that is not the way this world we live in works. Good people die for no reason, love is unrequited, noble thoughts and deeds are punished as often as honored. No, this world is nothing like the fantasy found in books.

Is that bad or good? Is it more important that we take the journey then worry about the destination? If our world did make sense, would we grow, would we strive to be better people? Would evolution have taken us beyond single celled organisms if that much logic was applied to the world? Is it our ability to recognize all the injustices and unfairness inherent in our lives that has brought us to the state we are now? Beautifully, and tragically, flawed, a study in contrasts, capable of great kindness and utter brutality sometimes within the space of one breath.

I wish I knew the answers. I wish I knew the questions for that matter. The ones to ask to understand it all, to put it all into perspective. But I suppose if I all ready knew these things, I wouldn’t bother learning anything else. I wouldn’t strive, or yearn, or hope, or even despair. And that’s what makes me what I am, the search, the faith–misplaced or not–that there is some purpose so grand in scale my tiny little brain will never comprehend it, but to stop is to resign myself to a state of living death. A life of going through the motions and finding nothing of satisfaction. Who could live like that? Not me.

So, I suppose I keep looking for the ridiculous, the humor, the glorious insanity of life, and take from it what I can. Now you have to ask yourself, are you doing the same? Are you living, or did you die ages ago? Dear reader, I hope you’re alive, and if not doing well, at least striving…yearning, hoping, and most importantly laughing.

Now, I promise to resume forcing my opinions on you and lay off of the philosophy books in the future. Thank you for your patience.

Well, it’s been awhile, but we’re back in full swing. Not that the hundreds of thousands of people not reading this blog care. But eventually someone might stumble across the gap in our posting, and I felt that maybe I should explain myself.

I was fracking busy.

There you go, explanation given. Now, onto more important things.

I just returned a few days ago from my very first Sci-fi convention. It was called Starfest, in Denver CO, and is (according to the people I went with) one of the few fan run conventions still going.

It was small, but since it was my first I didn’t mind that, and the people I went with made it a blast. But there are certain things I’ve discovered about fans, and fandom, from my little trip.

• We have an awesome sense of humor. We’re just plain funny, at least to each other. And as long as we amuse ourselves, who cares.
• There’s something very surreal about discussing politics with a man dressed as a Klingon. At least it was to me. Mostly because we weren’t discussing politics with a Bat’leth, and no one walked away bloody. Needless to say; I was a bit disappointed.
• Lenord Nimoy can still pack a room.
• The Klingon Juice they were handing out at the hotel bar was in fact a Long Island Ice Tea with some blue crap thrown in there. The Long Island Ice Tea may not sound as manly, but it still packs a whollop no matter what you call it.
• There is nothing more enlightening then taking a smoke break (outside of course cause the entire city of Denver sees smokers as a short step above heroin addicts) at three in the morning, during a convention. The freaks truly do come out at night. And it’s nice that you always know where to find them when you’re in the mood for some.
• When trapped with people inside an elevator at one of these things you never have to worry about those awkward moments. We all know we have something in common, we share a common language. Chances are if I bring up Trek, George Lucas, Firefly, or BSG someone in the elevator is going to be able to carry on at least an hour long conversation with me. This totally negates the need for small talk, thank God. I despise small talk and am completely incapable of it. This alone is reason enough to go to a convention.
• Geeks trying to score with the opposite sex is not only amusing, it’s kind of endearing in that really cheesy way.
• And finally, I realized not only can I not dance, even the Time Warp is completely beyond my abilities because I apparently can not tell my left from my right when forced to do so to music.

Well two weeks in a row something actually happened, and Tony’s questions about Mr. Bennet have been answered. Unfortunately, new questions have been brought up. But that’s good, I was getting so sick of asking the old questions I’m glad to have some new ones. Now this week’s episode was focused primarily on Mr Bennet and his oh so artsy black and white flashbacks. Warning if you’ve TIVOed this and haven’t watched it yet don’t read any further (Tony). Another warning; I’m writing this deep inside a medication induced haze. Blame any omissions, mistakes, or grammar errors on the Nyquil and Thera-flu instead of on my unwillingness to edit, which is usually the culprit.

So here’s what we know for sure:

• Mr. Bennet did not some how activate these mutant genes, or in anyway cause certain people to have their powers come to the forefront.
• Hiro’s dad is in on it somehow. By the way, how awesome is it that George Takei leapt out of the closet and got a real acting job. It’s been a busy year for Sulu.
• THE MAN is behind it. Just like the voices have always told me. Never trust THE MAN.
• The Invisible Man, Claude, once worked with Mr. Bennet. Until Bennet shot him like a vicious bastard. Cold man, that was cold.
• The Haitian is working with someone else, though we’re not sure who yet, apparently for now he’s working to keep Clarie out of the clutches of the people Mr. Bennet works for.
• And much like I predicted it seems Mr. Lendermen has something to do with all of this. Perhaps he’s the leader of the organization Mr. Bennet works for, perhaps he opposes them. Either way, I’m betting he’s going to be one creepy guy.
• Now here’s something that hasn’t been answered yet, but I’ve been pondering on since early this season. You know that necklace the Haitian wears, right? Looks a lot like Nicki’s tattoo doesn’t it? Hmmm…something to dwell on.

Okay, that’s all my flu addled brain can remember right now. And you should know my husband disagrees with me. He doesn’t think anything happened, at least not anything we didn’t kind of all ready know. But I stopped listening to his opinions when we got married, it’s in the pre-nup. We get to stop listening to each other. It’s a good deal really.

It’s that time of year again. Time for the starlets, divas, and metrosexuals to hit the red carpet. And I for one will be avoiding it like a Vin Diesel movie. The Oscars.

There’s a number of reasons why I hate award shows, and the Oscars are truly the least offensive of all of them, but it’s still just as trite and pointless as any other awards show. Award shows are a place for shallow people to break their arms patting themselves, and each other, on the back. It’s a place for people to show of clothes and jewels that rival the gross national product of most third world countries…combined. And people wonder why the rest of the world hates us? Oscars, Golden Globes, Emmys, SAG, Spirit Awards, Critics Awards, Tony, People’s Choice…you name it there’s an award program for it. With the Oscars being the pinnacle of all of this, the so called prom of Hollywood.

And it’s not just the shallowness of the whole proceedings, it’s the fact that watching one of these things is the most boring thing on the planet. I’m saying watching paint dry, grass grow, and snow melt is more exciting. I can think of several things I’d rather do and having a philosophical discussion with Jessica Simpson is one if them. So, I’ve come up with a few ideas to make the Oscars a bit more exciting.

• Let’s put some new energy into that long drawn out red carpet crap. Instead of walking down the red carpet a Slip and Slide should be installed, and instead of water I’m thinking mud. With a huge mud pit at the end to catch all those little divas in their Versace gowns.
• If there is some kind of stand off in certain categories like best picture, or actor in a leading role we can always return to the mud pit to hammer it out. Winner takes home the Oscar, loser gets half off the his dry cleaning bill.
• If the Slip and Slide idea doesn’t work to rev up the red carpet how about light saber battles. Picture it; Kate Winslet and Meryl Streep going at each other while in their ball gowns. My money is on Streep, I bet she fights dirty.
• Or we could do away with the red carpet all together and just force everyone to wear the same thing; unflattering Star Trek uniforms. I’m not talking about that I’m-a-counselor-so-I-can-wear-a-low-cut-dress-on-the-bridge Troi uniform either. I mean that hideous, spandex things everyone else had to wear. How ironic is it that in the future spandex is the most popular fabric?
• Now as for the award presentation itself; I’m thinking we should spice it up by releasing pooh throwing monkeys into the audience. Of course animal rights activists might have issues with this, but that’s okay cause I plan on suspending anyone who bitches over a tank filled with mutant sea bass.
• And just because I don’t want to offend all the actors and actresses, let’s make it fun for them too by having lackeys follow them around with full length mirrors. Lackeys who, of course, tell them how awesome they are and make caddy, biting comments about the other actors and actresses at the event.

There you go. This in my opinion will go a long way towards making the Oscars a bit more exciting. Maybe I’ll even watch it if they do these things. But I doubt.

Ah, the age old debate over Mac’s and PC’s continue. Being a complete computer illiterate, I just use whatever someone puts in front of me. Which up until now has been a PC. Yeah, I have issues with it, and sure that Mac is looking sleeker, and sexier, and more tailored to my needs. But I’m one of those people who stick with something till I know it’s dead. Relationships, cars, television programs, I just hate change. Beating a dead horse is my past time (and before you PETA freaks send me hate mail, that’s a joke).

Still, the debate has got me wondering…what do the people of the future use, Mac or PC?

The Enterprise D, I believe uses the Trek equivalent of a PC, and here’s why…

Those stupid Bynars have got to be some kind of virus right? Or maybe spy ware. And we all know a Mac isn’t susceptible to that. But it’s not just the Bynars that make me think the Enterprise D is running on a PC. Let’s think about how many times their computer has gone down, been overrun by alien technology, taken over by nanties, or the holodeck has malfunctioned. By my count this happened at least two times a season. Sounds like a PC to me.

Battlestar Galactica…well this one is a bit harder. It seems to me that the original series BSG would be like the original Apples, you remember that flashing green cursor, right? But really, because of the computer phobia the Cylon wars produced the reimagined Galactica doesn’t seem that much more technically advanced. Now the Cylons, they’re running some super freaky, gooey gel Mac stuff. Not sure if I want any part of a computer that requires me to stick my hand in something that looks like snot. Even if it can resurrect me.

Not being a Mac user I’m not sure what kind of gripes you guys have about your computers (if any). But, given that most sci-fi series that run longer then a season seem to rely on at least one episode where their computers crash and burn I’d say most sci-fi television shows are using PC’s. So, I guess that kills that debate. At least it kills my interest in it. I think I see something shiny on the other side of the room. Gotta go.

Oh, by the way, my PC crashed while trying to write this. Oh the irony!

This should make Tony happy (cause it’s all about Tony) something FINALLY happened on Heroes.

Simone was shot, Peter flew, Sylar did what he does best, and Matt found some balls. Now that the season is more then half over maybe we can finally get some answers. But in the mean time here are a few questions that I doubt they’ll be covering anytime soon.

• How did Mohinder and his father get the DNA samples needed to find out exactly WHO had the mutated DNA? And is there some kind of phone book with names, addresses, and DNA code in it so you can look people up by those mutated codes?
• How many more times is Claire going to wear that cheer leading outfit? We get the point, she’s hot, she fulfills some cheerleader fetish. She’s also jailbait in most states, except the south.
• What exactly is the Nicki Jessica thing. Split personality? Haunting? Did Mr Bennet do something to her that made her that way, or did someone else? Is that what the tattoo means? And really, how crazy is it that your reflection carries on conversations with you and moves independently, mine does that all the time. Guess I just don’t get the creepiness there.
• Who is this Lendermen? Considering a running theme of the show is fate it seems like this guy is going to be something serious. Maybe the guy who fractured Nicki? Maybe he’s had plans for her all along. Can’t think of why else he helped her out of jail. And man that must have taken some serious bribing on his part. They found quite a few dead bodies in her wake after all. When I finally snap I hope I’ve made friends that high up.
• When is someone wearing spandex?
• Mutant wrestling? Jessica VS Wolverine. Man there’s a fight I’d like to see.

And by the way, should Mr Bennet use his ill gotten Chucky Cheese gains to make Tolkien Elves my reflection will totally come out of the mirror and kick his ass. She’s done it before.

Well I have finally done it, I have finally hit a new dork level. Really it didn’t take much, just a pure whim, to push me into this new, strange realm.

Sure, it started innocently enough, I was at my public library (for those of you who thought the internet did away with such arcane forms of information gathering they are still around) and I happened to notice a nice collection of graphic novels that is new to my library. Of course, I had to stop and look.

I must admit I’m not much of a comics reader. Not because I consider myself above them, mostly because my brain has gotten used to reading novels and making my own pretty pictures to play in my head. I’ve tried, I truly have. Last year a dear friend gave me the complete Elfquest Archives Volume One in a beautiful hard bound book. I love it, but I’ve never really been able to read it.

But for some reason at the library yesterday I decided to pick up one of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman graphic novels. I couldn’t find the first so I got the second volume, The Doll’s House.

I wasn’t planning on being able to really get into it, I just wanted to see the artwork and get a feel for the comic in general. But, when I actually sat down to read through it I discovered that if I forced myself to slow way down and keep my eyes trained only on one panel at a time I could actually start to get into the story and the art at the same time without feeling too overwhelmed.

Imagine my surprise when I realized that the trick to reading a comic isn’t slap dashing through it just brushing the surface, but really concentrating. Noticing the slump in a characters shoulders, the subtle body language conveyed in the art as well as the words.

Now, I had never really considered myself a comic snob before this, but little did I know I was carrying a few prejudices about comics. I think I assumed they were easy, mindless reads with only the smallest of intellectual value. And I don’t know if it’s the comic I decided to start out with or if there’s a whole world of very well done graphic novels I have yet to discover, but there was more depth there then I had imagined. As weird as it is, in some ways I had to work harder for the story then I do in a novel. Sometimes novel writers just say too much. Some announce every emotion the characters are experiencing on loud speaker, or their motivations are dissected for pages and pages, until the reader grows so bored we never actually get to the point where the action occurs.

Of course not all novels are written like this, I know that, but the comic seems to force a writer to be a little more subtle, to leave a bit more to the reader’s imagination even if the “mental pictures” are being supplied. There are certain things that there is simply no room to delve into in a comic and it forces you to get to your point, and not to forget it. Ah, if only I could cultivate that skill myself.

Now, I realize some of this is due to the fact that this is a new medium to me, maybe partially my past inability to read a comic was because of my dyslexia, I’m not sure. Either way though, I’m kind of thrilled to have gotten through my first one. I feel like I’ve been initiated into some level of fandom I’ve never been able to obtain before. And yes, that sounded as pathetic to me as I’m sure it did to you, but oh well I’m just happy I’m no longer a comic virgin.