Is it paranoid to mistrust companies with your data?

Image by Oliver Widder, CC by-ND 2.0

No, this isn’t about Facebook versus Google+. Though, on that topic, it’s worth noting that lots of people have been citing concerns over privacy as their biggest reason for wanting to leave Facebook. Hello? And go over to Google? The company that allows me to look up a picture of the front of your house? The company that fought a battle to scan every book in existence into their computers? Yeah, Facebook is obnoxious with the way they continually expose your information in new ways, forcing you to be ever-vigilant, and in the way they seem to consider privacy an outmoded concept. But I’m not convinced Google is the knight in white armor here.

But actually I’m more interested in talking about the other ways we let ourselves be bribed into giving up little chunks of our privacy–as if offering up our friends’ e-mail addresses in exchange for finding out what 90210 character we are wasn’t enough.

Tonight I saw a commercial for a service from Progressive Insurance called Snapshot. Evidently this isn’t new, but I don’t watch a lot of television, so it’s new to me. Apparently you can sign up to have a little monitor installed in your car, which will track your driving time, speed, and braking intensity, and send that information to Progressive via cellular signal, and then you’ll get discounts based on your driving habits. They say that you can only get discounts, and that your rates can’t go up as a result of the data that is collected.

Right. And the toll booths will be removed as soon as the road is paid for. Also, the federal income tax is a temporary measure. And we have always been at war with Eastasia.

This program’s evil twin is the car rental agencies that use GPS to issue fines to their customers who speed–regardless of whether they receive a ticket. But who’s to say one won’t morph into the other, once the ice is broken, once customers are accustomed to the idea of being tracked and watched over by the companies they do business with?

There are lots of other services like this that benignly track users. I’m a little freaked out by GM’s OnStar program–which can be turned on at the request of the police, even if you don’t subscribe. Okay, more than a little.

I’m totally guilty of accepting the ability to spy on me in exchange for convenience, though, because my phone is an Android device that can track me pretty accurately even when my GPS is off. But that’s okay because I can turn data collection, and even the phone itself, off–or can I? (Incidentally, your inactive phone can also be used to listen in on your conversations.) Perhaps more damningly, I have one of those automatic toll-paying doohickeys in my car.

Photo by Jeff Hall, CC by-ND 2.0

Or maybe it’s okay because I have nothing to hide, right? Isn’t that what they say right before they perform a warrantless search?

I know, tinfoil hat talk, right? Maybe it’s because my parents both immigrated from a country where the government did turn into the enemy of its people that I don’t trust any large powerful entity–not just the government, but corporations as well–to automatically do right by people.

The problem is it’s so hard to walk away from all that darn convenience, right?

Posted in rants, tinfoil hat talk | 4 Comments

Where your responsibility not to be a feminine hygiene product meets the store’s

Another interesting article from the New York Times–this one about how some independent bookstores have begun charging admission to author events. This caught my eye because a couple of weeks ago Colleen Lindsay, who works for Penguin and helps manage their Book Country writing community/workshop, was tweeting about more or less the same thing.

It would not have occurred to me that there are a lot of people who go to book signings and spend no money at the store–enough for it to be a problem for the stores hosting these events, allegedly. Now I totally get already having books by the author in question. When I go to a signing, usually it’s by an author whose books I already love, if I’m going to be motivated enough to figure out their schedule of appearances. That being the case, it’s a pretty safe bet I already have that person’s latest release–and possibly all that person’s novels, period. I have walked into a bookstore already carrying the author’s titles, and worried that the store management will think I’m a schmuck.

But every time I go to a signing in a bookstore, I make a point of buying books by other authors. It’s not hard to convince myself, either.

Look, maybe you’re reading this and you’ve never given it a second thought. Putting on a signing costs the bookstore money–money they expect to recoup in sales. Going to a signing means you love books, and, by extension, bookstores. Which means–come on, let’s be honest–you want to buy something. You’re looking for an excuse. And I’m giving it to you: Buy a book. Buy two. You have a moral obligation. Nay, you are doing God’s work. When you buy a book at a signing–even a book by another author–you are virtue in action. You ought to get a prize, but instead you’ll have to settle for, well, a book. Or five.

That said, I don’t know how much I buy the argument that a cover charge is necessary. Are there a limited number of wolf-children without the common sense to buy a book when they go to a signing? Sure, I suppose. But guess what? If there had been no signing, those people wouldn’t have gone to the bookstore that day anyway, because they obviously did not intend to buy books. On the other hand, a signing for a writer of some prominence is going to bring in anywhere from a handful to a few dozen people who would not have otherwise gone into that store that day. It’s advertising, and if it didn’t work, bookstores wouldn’t have gotten on board with it in the first place. Getting people in your doors is a good thing for a business; you’re not going to convince me it’s not.

No, I think this is about something else. There are several clues in the article. The first paragraph doesn’t talk about people who come to signings but don’t buy; it talks about capitalizing on something independent bookstores can offer that online retailers cannot. It’s about countering a practice that’s hurting independent bookstores, sure, but the villains here aren’t the folks that come to signings; it’s the folks who buy their books from other venues. In the fourth paragraph, Sarah McNally is quoted as saying, “The entire independent bookstore model is based on selling books, but that model is changing because so many book sales are going online.” Sure they are, and sure that’s costing the bookstores, but that’s only tangentially related to the people who attend signings.

Slightly further in, the unattributed charge is made that “Bookstore owners say they are doing so because too many people regularly come to events having already bought a book online or planning to do so later.” Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t buy that this is a problem specifically when it comes to events. These are people coming through the door who otherwise wouldn’t have, and I bet most of them spend money at the store.

More telling, I think, are the next two paragraphs:

Consumers now see the bookstore merely as another library — a place to browse, do informal research and pick up staff recommendations.

“They type titles into their iPhones and go home,” said Nancy Salmon, the floor manager at Kepler’s. “We know what they’re doing, and it has tested my patience.”

Note to store managers: when you start seeing the customers as adversaries, you’ve got a bigger problem.

On the second page, a bookstore owner from Madison, Wisconsin, defends the practice, after which the article notes that ten percent of her store’s revenue now comes from events. Unfortunately, this is an incredibly vague statistic, because there is no comparison made to the revenue that was brought in prior to the ticket policy, by people who saw the event for free and then bought books. It’s too bad, because ten percent of a store’s revenue strikes me as a staggering amount, and I’d like a clearer picture of just what the statistic means

If bookstores have become libraries and cultural centers, you can lay a lot of the blame for that at the feet of Barnes & Noble, which was the first place I ever encountered the mentality that it was okay to pick up the merchandise, read as much as you want while sitting in a comfy chair, and go home. It seems to work for them; can that really be explained away by pointing at their market share?

In any case, I don’t doubt that there are people walking through the store, browsing titles, and leaving. I’m just saying I think it’s a different group of people, and that it seems like bookstores that charge for events are taxing their best customers to help pay for the freeloaders. And heck, I’m happy to help bookstores survive, but this move feels like a slap in the face. It feels like I’m being accused, preemptively, of being one of the freeloaders. And again, that’s no way to treat someone you want as a customer.

Would policies like those described in the article deter me from attending an event? Most of the stores in the article run it more like a minimum than like a cover charge. I go to a signing expecting to spend some of my money, so no, such a policy wouldn’t chase me away.

There were at least one or two stores, though, where it was unclear that the cover charge could be put toward the purchase of books. That leaves me more troubled. I certainly have paid money to attend cons where writers were present, but I think it’s the critical mass I’m paying for as much as anything else. I think I can count on one or two fingers the number of authors I’d pay to see, above and beyond the cost of buying their books–and it’s worth noting that the authors do benefit from book sales, but they don’t benefit from cover charges paid to bookstores. And as Joshua Roberts noted, I’d be especially disinclined to pay to hear an author who is already a friend talk.

Posted in bookish life | 4 Comments

This is too awesome

Seriously, chase everyone else away for ten minutes, shut the door, and watch this.

Plot Device from Red Giant on Vimeo.

And stay through the credits!

(via Kristin Nelson)

Posted in assorted nerdom | 3 Comments

(Possibly Premature) Eulogy for the Online Forum

I was linked to this article from the New York Times today and it provided some food for thought, in that don’t-speak-too-soon-for-the-wheel’s-still-in-spin vein.

I’m not posting to agree or disagree with Heffernan. Is she right about forums being on the wane? She seems to be. Is she right about Web 2.0 being the reason why? I don’t know.

What I do know is that online forums have played a rather large role in my life–on and off the internet.

I was on the internet before most people knew what the heck the internet was. I dabbled with BBS’s in high school, used bitnet and the (nascent) internet in college, gopher and listserv in grad school, and finally got on AOL in the late nineties. But the internet was a long way from becoming my primary timesink like it is now. Really, what all was there to do?

Image courtesy of Induo Wireless

That changed when I discovered online forums. I made my first forum post in 2002, and within a few months I felt like a new world had opened up in front of me. The internet stopped being a resource and became a place to spend way too much time. But for all the negative comments one can make about people who spend too much time online and have no “real life,” the internet enriched my life. I’d never been able to find more than one or two people who shared my interests and my outlooks before, but online I found whole communities of people who valued what I valued. I had come home.

And the effect on my life wasn’t just online. I made the majority of my best meatspace friends as a direct result of my online involvement. Heck, I was a groomsman at one of my friends’ weddings–to a woman he met at the same forum. Because of forums I gained confidence that the things that made me different actually made me special. I was valued for who I was–an experience plenty of people find elsewhere, but one that was pretty special for me.

And I don’t post in them nearly as much as I used to anymore.

A lot of my personal bandwidth has gone into Facebook, Twitter, Google+, etc. . . . where many of my friends are people I first met on these forums. So if I’m still interacting with the same people, is it fair to say that nothing has changed but the venue?

Well, no.

The difference is when I started on the forums I was interacting with strangers. And even though I got to know the community, more strangers came along over the years. Facebook doesn’t really replace that.

It’s certainly possible to interact with strangers in a post-forum age. You can go comment on YouTube videos or newspaper articles, right?

Image by George Crux

Yeah, maybe not so much. But it’s precisely forming relationships with strangers that made my online experience so meaningful. Having reached a self-sustaining mass of friends is nice and all, but where’s the fresh blood come from? What forums provide that most other online interactions with strangers don’t is a self-selecting community. Sure, there are trolls on forums, but for the most part, you find people with at least one abiding interest in common, often with roughly similar education levels, and often with an interest in creating community. And you find diversity too, because once you get past the things that bring you together, you find infinite combinations of everything else.

The closest equivalent I find to that experience now is hashtag chats on Twitter. Since the hashtag allows your tweets to be seen by people who don’t follow you, that a great place to meet people who share an interest in whatever the topic is while being different in myriad other ways. The big downside is how ephemeral the conversations can be. You can meet some really cool people, but the sense of community really isn’t there.

The nice thing about the internet is nothing really dies, though. Did you know that Gopher is still limping along somewhere? I think it’s still possible to play the old ADVENTURE text game online. So forums may diminish in importance, but they’ll still exist somewhere, for those folks who still find value in them. And I think the internet will keep on providing ways for people to figure out that, no matter how weird you think you are, you’re not alone.

Hopefully it will still be possible for the Makers of the world to build relationships and even communities. If so, I guess that matters more than the precise mechanism behind that Making.

Posted in tech geek | Comments Off on (Possibly Premature) Eulogy for the Online Forum

Fellowship of the Bearded, Long-Haired Dudes

I think I weigh a couple pounds less than I did this morning. Here’s why:

Before

After

I cut off about fourteen inches of hair this morning and donated it to Wigs 4 Kids.

I’ve had long hair–with short interruptions–for most of the last eight years (and for my first year of college, back before that). Having short hair again is . . . interesting. I liked having long hair, but I was increasingly not being able to carry off the look anyway, so I figured it was time–and I wanted to make sure the hair went to a good use when I did get it cut.

When I went into the hair salon, I had more than a bit of trepidation. Whether my hair was short or long, I’ve always been the sort of person who doesn’t give it a lot of thought. I hate it when hair dressers start to ask you all sorts of questions about what you want. The worst is when they ask what number comb I want them to use on the clippers. Hello?! You’re the professional here–why’re you asking me?! And I was also  self conscious as this big guy with a big old head of hair–and a bald spot!–and a big egg-shaped head coming in for a cut.

But the stylist was perfect. When I told her I wanted her to do anything that was easy to maintain and reasonably decent-looking with whatever was left, she took it from there. She was just the right amount of chatty, and I really had an enjoyable time. And I think she did a good job! And then, to my surprise, they took care of mailing it for me. (There’s another cool sekrit surprise, but apparently they don’t go out of their way to publicize it, so ask me about it elsewhere if you know me.)

One of my long-haired bearded friends (I actually have several!) noted a few years ago that there seemed to be a fellowship of bearded, long-haired dudes. (His phrase, which I am totally and shamelessly stealing here.) It’s kind of true. You see another bearded, long-haired dude, you can give him a nod and he’ll nod back. You both get it. Except now I’m no longer in the fellowship. :-\

Things I’m looking forward to:

  • much faster showers
  • shorter drying time
  • feeling cooler on hot days
  • Driving with the windows open
  • not getting my hair caught in the car door, in the seatbelt, under my backpack strap, in my mouth . . .
  • not scaring little children (as much)
Posted in blargety-blog | 9 Comments

What would the FBI make of your search history?

I was about as mercifully unaware of the Casey Anthony trial as someone living in Central Florida can possibly be. I mean, obviously I heard about the mystery, the discovery of the body, the trial, and the verdict, but I wasn’t obsessed about it like a lot of other people seemed to be, nor does the verdict keep me up at night. Hey, I wasn’t on the jury; what the heck do I know? I’m struggling a bit to understand why some people have a sense of outrage over this crime that isn’t mirrored by their outrage over every other equally horrible thing done to some other child. You would think this was the only child ever murdered, and, further, you would think these people had personally inspected all the evidence.

But enough–more than enough, really–about Casey Anthony. Like I said, I’m not interested in talking about her. The only reason I bring her up was, in the aftermath of the verdict, one of the things I heard from some media outlet I’ve long since forgotten was that investigators discovered, on some computer that Anthony had access to, a Google search for how to make chloroform.

And I thought, well shoot, I’ve done that.

This blog isn’t intended to be only for writers, but I know most of the hits I get are from other writers, and I bet you all know exactly what I’m talking about.

Most stories have antagonists, and, if you write genre fiction, your antagonist probably isn’t a cheating husband or a demeaning boss. Your antagonist is likely some level of evil. And if you write genre fiction, the stakes are probably high. Your antagonist probably intends to do some pretty effed-up stuff.

Which means, to make him credible, you have to learn exactly how to be the best bad guy you can be. And, short of cultivating experience in robbing banks or making doomsday devices, the best way to sound credible about being evil without leaving your living room is Google.

So I’ve got a pretty messed up search history. I have, over the years, researched how to make chloroform, details about clinical vampirism (real life people who are addicted to drinking blood. Yum!), abduction by Amazon river dolphins (don’t ask), common con routines, how jails are laid out, Greyhound’s policy on children riding alone, hotlines for runaways, and, most recently, how to quietly overthrow the US government.

Photo by Anonymous900, CC by 2.0

I’m sure there are other eyebrow-raising searches I’ve made that are slipping my mind right now; these are just the tip of the iceberg.

What about you, writer friends? What searches have you performed that would just freak out your muggle neighbors?

Posted in writing | 14 Comments

Trying to figure out Google+

It’s been years since I tried to figure out what zoo animal I most resemble, or which character from Twilight I am. I’ve also never tried to recruit people to help me take down an elven kingpin, or whatever it is the kids on Facebook play at these days. Even so, when I first got on Google+ a couple of weeks ago, I was nonplussed by how sparse it seemed. Of course, there wasn’t much in my stream yet at that point. But, still, no game notifications, no little farmville icons, just lots and lots of white space.

I’ve since figured out that what’s replaced all that is people, you know, exchanging their own thoughts and stuff, mostly in the form of words.

Weird.

I spent several hours poking around Google+ that I should have spent sleeping last night, trying to get the hang of it. If I chatted with you last night, then this will mostly be repetition, and you might want to skip it.

The first thing I figured out was that I had grossly misunderstood what circles were all about. I actually had a few inklings before last night that maybe I didn’t get it, but when I tried to think of a proper analogy, I got a sense of just how thorough my ignorance was. And you know, I’m not a dumb person, nor am I a particularly technologically un-savvy one, so I have to figure I’m not the only one.

For the past two weeks I’ve been posting almost nothing, but each time I’ve gotten a notification that someone had added me to a circle, I dutifully added them back. In my mind, this was analogous to accepting friend requests coupled with putting people into Facebook groups.

Even though groups do exist in Facebook, I had a vague sense that these circles were being trumpeted as one of Google+’s strengths. So I had some awareness that Google+ makes it easier–encourages you, arguably–to control to whom your messages go. Alright, then, so I was accepting friend requests and deciding which subset of my messages my friends would get. And that’s accurate enough, as far as it goes.

Except . . . if you think about it, then, putting you in a circle is about wanting to control the messages I send to you, right? Whereas following someone on Twitter, to switch analogies, is about wanting to receive their outgoing messages. So was putting someone in a circle tantamount to asking them to accept spam from me?

Confounding the issue was the fact that I could see that some people had visible posts even though I hadn’t put them in a circle yet. I hadn’t quite figured out that there is also an option to send messages to everyone including people who aren’t your followers.

And then if I did use Twitter as an analogy instead of Facebook, circles were like lists, and it was possible to follow people without them following me back. But again, not quite like Twitter, because everyone kept telling me circles were about controlling your outgoing messages, not your incoming ones. And while you can put someone in a circle and then exclude them from appearing in your stream, that’s kind of a crappy thing to do, isn’t it? That really means “I want to talk at you, but I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

And what exactly did it mean if I put you in a circle but you did not reciprocate? What exactly could I see? And what difference did it make what circle I put you in if you never returned the favor?

I think that’s what made it so confusing to me: while it is possible to use circles to control whose stuff you read, I was coming at it from the standpoint that you wouldn’t add someone unless you wanted to read them–yes, I see the glaring flaw in that logic now–and so putting someone in a circle seemed like an act of faith. It seemed like saying, “I’d like to communicate with you back and forth, and I’m preemptively deciding which of my groups of recipients you will occupy, even though you haven’t yet agreed to receive my messages.”

Eventually, with the help of some friends, I refined that understanding a bit more. At this point, I’m proud to say that I think I get it. Like I said, I can’t possibly be the only one who didn’t get it, so pay attention, ’cause I’m about to lay some understanding on you. Putting someone in a circle is saying, “I’d like to have the ability send you the messages I send to a specific group that you have not yet agreed to join (but that I’ve mentally categorized you under anyway)–or to you specifically–and I’d like to have the option to read the messages you send to the uncaring world at large, along with any that you care to send to whatever shoeboxes you deign to include me in (understanding that you may not actually wish to notice me at all), along with any you care to send specifically to me.

Okay. The more I thought about it and the more it was explained to me, the more I could see that they’d thought of almost every contingency in my communication needs. (One exception a friend pointed out: you may wish to ignore someone, but if that person comments on the postings of somebody you do follow, then you will see that person there, like it or not.)

I think this offers me somewhat more ability to customize my sending and receiving than facebook does. Google+ also apparently doesn’t limit how many people you can follow and be followed by, though that’s hardly an issue for me at this point. Google+ seems to have other cool communicating features that I haven’t explored yet, like hangouts. So while they don’t have the silly games, they do bring the shiny elsewhere.

I do wonder if the absence of games–which is not entirely a bad or good thing–is more about the newness of it all. So far I haven’t really seen any third-party apps for Google+. Does that mean that it’s not part of the landscape, or just that nobody’s developed them yet? It would be something if third party apps–and the total absence of oversite for how they abused everybody’s privacy–turned out to be Facebook’s undoing, wouldn’t it?

Anyway, on to the bottom line. I can see the appeal of Google+’s organization. But at this point, very few of the people I communicate with are on it. Obviously that will change. It’s the nerd frontier, right now. But until and unless Facebook goes the way of Myspace, there will always be a substantial part of the network of friends I’ve built up who will be there and not on Google+. (I’m not sure the converse will ever be true. At least not until Facebook is irrelevant.) So okay, this is kind of cool, but what the heck do I do with it?

I could see me using Google+ or Facebook exclusively of each other, but having both, they both seem to fit very similar niches in my communication arsenal. And I don’t want to cross-post stuff to both, because I personally find people who cross-post the exact same content across Twitter and Facebook, say, annoying. Except on Facebook I can set my feed to ignore posts that come directly from Twitter. If I cut and paste the same stuff into my wall and my stream, I’ll be spamming my friends on both platforms, and they’ll have no way to avoid it other than to ignore me altogether.

Which leaves me . . . up in the air, I guess. For now I’ll play it by ear. Eventually I got a sense of what kinds of things I liked to put on Twitter and what kind on Facebook. I guess I’ll post on Google+ when I feel like it and on Facebook when I feel like it, and see what happens.

Here’s what’s annoying, though: In the meantime, until one of the two dies a Myspace-type death, I now have one more place I have to look to keep up with my friends.

Posted in tech geek | 7 Comments

Bad Teacher, Terrible Movie

We don’t get out to see movies as often as I’d like. They’re really expensive these days, especially for a family of four, and times are tough. The other day my wife suggested that for about the price of us all going to see an evening movie (and having snacks and sodas, natch), we could hop in the car, drive to Cocoa Beach, and spend a night in a a hotel there.

Spoiler: You know what? She's right SelectShow

But enough about how expensive movies are. Suffice it to say that they’ve come to be an all too rare treat, which makes it especially horrible when you finally make it out to the theater, only to have your money and time wasted by lazy, reprehensible, ugly storytelling.A horrible movie

Enter Bad Teacher.

Now I usually have a policy of never seeing movies about teaching or teachers. They tend to feed into one of two misconceptions people often to hold about my profession: that we have a sweet work schedule made up of short days and long vacations, tenure, and autonomy, or that there is a magical way of reaching every single student, and that all it takes as a teacher is wanting it badly enough and being willing to put in a lot of montages, and there isn’t a single student whose life you will fail to change, massively. There’s a longer rant coming, but I’ll save it for another day.

This time I made an exception because a couple of teachers I know assured me that it was a really funny movie. (By the way, no, we didn’t take the kids to see this R-Rated flick.) Well let’s dispel that myth first: all (both) the funniest bits were in the trailer, so I really didn’t need to spend eleven bucks to see them again. There were a handful of kinda funny gags, most of them not being used to their best potential, and that was about it.

My objection to this movie is not that it’s demeaning to teachers. It is demeaning, though. More than any movie I can remember seeing. Okay, I get it, it’s called Bad Teacher, so it’s hardly surprising that the Cameron Díaz’s character is, well, a bad teacher. But where in this movie is there a good teacher–or even a teacher who is a good person? Díaz’s character is lazy, conniving, shallow, selfish–the list goes on. But what about Justin Timberlake’s character? Flakey and dishonest. Professes love and devotion to one woman, but is easily lured away if that woman is but absent. A ridiculous, chaste horndog. Jason Segal’s character? A big goofy kid in a man’s body, he’s the closest thing we have, but he’s also a crass, lazy drug abuser who is not capable of doing the tasks he demands of his students. And, you know, he’s shallow enough to take Díaz’s character into his life the minute she comes to her senses, knowing what an otherwise despicable person she is. Lucy Punch’s character? At first it seems like her biggest flaw is being too dippy even for middle school, but since this movie features no real character arc for Díaz, they have to resort to making Punch’s character more repugnant as the movie goes on, because that’s the only way anybody could possibly root for the reprehensible title character to win the day. So as the movie goes on, Punch’s character shows her own conniving, thieving side. Phyllis Smith’s character? Okay, she actually seems like a decent enough person, as far as I can remember, but she’s comically weak-willed and a total follower. If you’ve seen the film, can you imagine that someone like her can actually be good at teaching?

So yeah, this film is a total hatchet job. Somebody involved with writing this must have had a deep-seated hatred for their educational experience and their teachers as a group, to have been unable to show even a single background character, a foil, who was actually a decent person doing a decent job. But like I said, that’s not my problem with this movie. My problem is the storytelling is lousy, and storytelling is something I happen to care about a lot.

For the most part, it comes back to the point I already made, but now I’m not looking at it as an affront to teachers, but from a writer’s perspective–and from the perspective of a consumer of stories. If this were some sort of dark, nihilistic drama, I might could understand creating a story without a single character that one could cheer for. But this isn’t that kind of movie. This is supposed to be lighthearted–if raunchy–fare.

This isn’t an objection to flawed–even deeply flawed–protagonists. But if you’re going to write a story with a flawed protagonist, then I need to see a reason to follow them on their journey, for one thing. Some early sign that the person if flawed, but has potential. She is trying and failing to get better. Or she’s not trying to get better, but in the midst of her despicableness we get the occasional surprising good deed, that shows us this person has some unsuspected kernel of decency inside. In Bad Teacher, we get none of that. In the first eighty-five minutes of this movie, there isn’t a sign that Díaz’s character has a single honorable inclination, ever. No evidence that she’s capable of seeing anybody as other than a means to an end, an obstacle, or something to be ignored. (She’s not even sexually attracted to the men she seduces; she’s just looking for her sugar daddy.) (Which brings up another point. The only thing saving this movie from being deeply misogynistic is the fact that it’s actually deeply misanthropic.)

Another thing I need, ideally in any protagonist, but certainly in a flawed one, is some kind of character arc. In this movie, there isn’t one. There is the most slap-dash attempt to affix a casual wave at character growth in the last seven minutes, when Díaz has her shining moment: She tells a sensitive kid that no girl will ever like him in middle school or high school, so he should wait for college and seize his window when it comes. And then she gives him her bra. Yes, seriously. That’s Díaz’s high-water mark in human decency in this film. While delivering her lecture about how middle school girls are inherently shallow–well, the pretty ones, anyway–she realizes that she has been shallow herself, and stops chasing after Timberlake. (After, of course, ruining his love life and Punch’s career.) She doesn’t actually make good for any of the terrible wrong she has done. The evidence of her growth as a human being is that she finally acquiesces to the nearly-likable guy who’s been hitting on her nonstop for an entire year.

Tell me again what the pro- in protagonist stands for?

So I wonder about the 44% of people who, according to Rotten Tomatoes, didn’t think this was a terrible movie. (It’s worth noting that the number goes down to 26% when you only look at the “top critics.”) I can’t imagine anybody thought any of these characters was somebody they’d ever like to spend time with (except possibly in bed). So all I can imagine is folks liked it despite the uniformly miserable characters, because they thought it was funny.

Frankly, it wasn’t that funny.

But even if it was–do these people not want a comedy to work as a story first and foremost? When they go see a movie–especially a lighthearted one–are they not looking for characters they can get behind, somehow changing their lives for the better?

Nowhere do I feel more out of touch with my culture than when it comes to filmic comedy. The things I find funny don’t meet with a ton of acclaim, and the things other people find funny I just don’t get.

Posted in math, movies, storytelling, teaching | 3 Comments

Hello world!

future manIf you are stumbling upon this post from a time months or even years into the future, trawling backwards through my oodles and oodles of blog journal posts looking for the point where it all began, then I have three things to say to you:

  1. Greetings, future man! Or, uh, woman! Or other!
  2. Seriously, you need to get a hobby or something.
  3. And finally, here it is: the end of the line. There are no older posts than this.

Okay well technically that last part’s not quite true. From 2008 until some time around 2011ish I kept another blog: Icarus’s Labyrinth. So, dear future-stalker, you still have another 148 or so posts to read. Muahahahaha! Since in your time, the sun is no doubt extinct and your kind are all high-tech cave dwellers with no other source of entertainment apart from reading self-indulgent blog posts, you have been spared a trip into the radioactive killing fields in search of honest work. You’re welcome.

If you’re not from the future . . . <insert sound of crickets chirping> . . . well, this is awkward, isn’t it? I’m afraid there’s no other content here besides this post. See, you were really meant to stumble on this after I’d had a chance to generate some content. It’s like that scene in Ellen’s Energy Adventure at Epcot where she–yeah, you know what? It’s a long story.

So why the switch? Well, since my friend Scott Roberts loathes lists, let’s throw a second one into this post, just to tick him off:

  • That other blog was more of a diary of my writing activities. I kept it for my own narcissistic benefit (totally unlike this blog journal) to chart my growth and experiences as a writer. This one is going to be more about having fun, expressing my opinions, meeting people, and having good conversations.
  • I eventually plan to build a web site with other content besides this blog journal, and it doesn’t appear to me that Blogger is a useful tool for that, compared to WordPress.
  • Erm, I don’t actually have a third bullet point.

Over the last few years, I’ve become much more active in posting on other people’s blogs and forums, and learned that I really enjoy the give and take of ideas and opinions. I think it’d be cool to collect some of those exchanges on my own site.

I’m not going to do the regimented this-topic-on-this-day-of-the-week thing that so many other blogs I visit do. I figure I’ll babble about whatever I want, whenever the mood strikes me. But there are some themes I seem to be especially interested in, so they’ll probably come up a lot. Just for Scott, let’s list them:

  • Writing–well sure, I’m still pretty obsessed with writing, so while this isn’t a writing blog per se (French for “that’s what she said”) I’ll still probably bring it up once in a while.
  • Reading–especially science fiction, fantasy, and young adult.
  • Teaching–that’s the job that pays my bills, and it’s much more than a job to me. As with writing, whether I’m any good or not is for other people to judge, but again, as with writing, I’m passionate about my vocation and it’s never far below the surface.
  • That weird cultural territory where being an American and being a Latino intersect for me. I love this country, but I also love my heritage. I want to see more stories out there where the characters’ background and experiences look familiar to me–in fact, I hope to write some of them.
  • Gender–I have a real hate-hate relationship with how we try to box people based on what strikes me as a pretty small bit of biology and a much larger pile of cultural baggage. I think sometimes it’s hard to see just how much cultural baggage there is because we’re swimming in it. (As an aside, I don’t recommend swimming in baggage; while you won’t drown, it’s probably not the most efficient way to get around.)
  • Math. Yeah, that’s right, I went there. Math is beautiful and interesting, and if you don’t know that, it’s just because you’ve been scared off by the race to level up that our school system puts everyone through, and you haven’t had a chance to see the amazing interrelatedness of mathematics, and to hear about its fascinating history. Yeah, it might come up from time to time. You can deal.
  • Disney–The Intellectual Scouts offer a merit badge in Disdaining Disney. I never earned mine. Disney is far from perfect, but at their best they show an astonishing attention to detail in everything from their movies to their service to their architecture to their rides. I’m a very detail-oriented person, and so when I recognize that in someone else–when I can see how much effort someone else has put into the little things, I soak it up.
  • Everything else. There are very few things in the world that bore me. Things that go over my head do, but I try to keep the number of things that do that down to a manageable number.

Holy apostrophe this blog journal post has gotten long on me!

Posted in uncategorized | 5 Comments