S#7: Magic Trick
This turned out to be startlingly easy.
The “before” shot:
On the ratio of “least amount of work to most amount of results”, this scores VERY highly. I practised exactly once with non-fragile items, once with the (stoneware) plate and (metal) cutlery, and then set things up with the glasses for the video (they are glass glasses). CJ said, “Don’t you want to prepare a bit more first?” and I said, “This is way more interesting.”
So many unpleasant things in life begin that way.
The “after” shot:
The instant the video ended, CJ wanted a go. He mastered it instantly. So will at least some of you*.
I know from Mythbusters that the ideal circumstances are: A table that is stable and smooth. A cloth that is lightweight non-stretch satin, shiny side down (and the edge should be lined up with the far edge of your table). Light-weight objects. The larger the table, and the more objects you have – the more difficult it is.** It’s gravity versus friction.
Our table is smooth but not completely stable, and the fabric is medium-weight satin that stretches in one direction. And that’s it! That’s all the magic there is.
Oh, and by the way, you know Santa? He’s really not that nice.
*the cool ones.
**so don’t try this on the Christmas dinner table, and that means you, Uncle “eggnog” Bob.
PS yep I’m publishing this at 2am. I so badly wish I was asleep right now.
Guess what happened today? I read a “deeply honest, heartfelt” blog by someone saying how awful it is that she’s been writing two whole years and isn’t published yet. Then I read another blog article by someone saying how brilliant a particular writing program is, and how much it helped her and made her feel great about her book – her first book, which was barely finished when she applied (and at the program she worked with a close personal friend of Garth Nix, author of “Sabriel” and a personal hero of mine). I applied for that exact program, and I’ve written twelve freaking books over twelve long and soul-destroying years.
Clearly, I just suck.
#83: Go dancing
In days of yore – when giant beasts roamed the earth and even the trees had a hungry look – I was young, and inclined to go out dancing. A group of friends and I would prepare wonderful cocktails in our hipflasks, and dance away the night. One of the friends was a boy, very pretty in an anime way, who was short and slender with long hair. He pretty much always attracted attention before we did, and many a slightly-inebriated man had a moment of confusion about his life choices.
But I digress.
Last night, about 9pm, as I wondered how I’d be able to stay awake until bedtime, my sister-in-law called inviting CJ and I to go out on the town. We agreed with alacrity (and/or stoic endurance), changed out of our pyjamas, and went.
One of the side effects of dieting is feeling absolutely horrible about oneself physically (even as your clothes gradually grow less tight) so even after two Baileys I point-blank refused to dance in front of CJ (coz he’s the boy I like, and that’s just how it is). So we sent the boys outside and just us girls danced.
You’ll notice there are no photos. This night, like the nights of yore, is destined to fade into smoke-machine mist and the eerie creaking of the primeval forest.
Alternative title: Do something you really, really suck at.
. . . yay?
Tomorrow I’ll be posting photos and video of a bona fide magic trick – and giving you the secret (because a magician I’m not). Here’s a hint: It’s very, very easy, and looks cool.
#57: Speed Writing
Want to write a bestselling novel? There are three basic things you need to do:
1. Write a novel.
2. Write a good novel, probably by much editing of #1.
3. Sell a lot of copies of your novel.
(Or alternatively, become a celebrity and ghost-write a novel. But I digress.)
Today’s all about #1, which is surprisingly difficult. Personally, I almost always write extremely fast first drafts (my realist novel was written in three days). I recommend every beginner uses a similarly manic method in order to finish that first book. Later on, you’ll know your own endurance better and can develop your own equally peculiar habits. (It also helps to split it up – I think of each 2000-word chapter as its own short story.) For your first book, the hardest part is physically writing it. So don’t worry; you can make it good LATER.
That means you DON’T re-read from the beginning every morning (you’ll get caught up in either how fantastic you are or how horrific you are, and both will slow down the actual writing), you don’t obsess over individual sentences, and you definitely don’t give the first chapter or first fifty pages to someone else to read and comment on.*
Today I’ll be taking my own medicine and speed-writing a 2000-word chapter in the next two hours. My computer says 11.42. See you at 1.42.
Here’s the notes I’ll be working from (divided into 500-word sections):
***search for Mrs Sweeton [who was recently abducted by the baddie]. They walk the grid, in pairs, in the nearby bushland. Yol and mr Johnson are left behind minding kids. Amy [that’s the hero] is paired with another character, Mrs banks [new character],
who is poking rudely at her mind.
They mentally fight, and go deep enough to satisfy amy that it wasn’t mrs banks who took mrs sweeton.
Is danny [amy’s boyfriend, who just publicly fought with her] planning to propose? What would amy say? Amy’s only just getting the hang of him, and is afraid. Mrs Banks comments on their fight.
——-
Hi again. It’s 1:26 and my chapter reached about 2005 words. I have a wonderful buzz of achievement, and I’ll come back later and probably find one or two good bits that I never planned. That’s the magic of getting words on paper – good stuff is bound to spill out with the bad.
*Partly because it’s just cruel to that person, and partly because your creative and editing selves are located in different parts of the brain, and simply don’t work well together. Write now, edit later. Trust me on this.
#235: Christmas Decorations
December is here! Finally! Time to stop whining about how the shops have been decorating since October – time to stop beating them, and join them.
My mum collects nativities (yes, really) and has one in every single room in the house, including the toilet. Not counting the ones hanging on the Christmas tree, there’s at least half a dozen in the living room alone.
So I have a small tribute to her in the bathroom this year.
We don’t technically have a tree, but we make do (the first is a cat in a stocking).
I will be writing another sarcastic Christmas letter this year, and posting it on Christmas Day (or very close to it).
In the meantime, go thee and get kitch. Spend too much, eat too much, and wonder why, at 28 years of age, I still can’t get to sleep on Christmas Eve.
From artobserved.com, a Biblical Rembrandt – an appropriate pirate pic (since I’m typing hastily as we’re about to have a massive storm. The wind has dropped to nothing, the sky is purple, and the clouds are rumbling – but the first drop hasn’t yet fallen).
I think I’ve heard this one
Hi kids
I swim about twice a week at a pool that has changerooms as a corridor between the entrance and the pools (designed to encourage swimmers to shower before they swim – most people, like me, just wear swimmers under their clothes).
I was delayed a little at the front desk because someone was in front of me – a blind man. He had a cane, and although it was clear he was familiar with where solid objects were, when he reached out to the checkout girl he was a little bit off.
I noticed all this, and stayed behind him as he went inside (rather than walking around and in front of him, as I’d usually do when someone walked that slowly). That was why I saw him walk straight into the women’s changeroom.
So. Many. Questions.
“I should tell him” met “Does it matter?” in my mind, and I didn’t say a word.
In utterly unrelated news, I wrote a good (and brief) entry on basic Muslim stuff at https://twittertales.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/muslim-headshawl/. In my opinion, every Westerner who doesn’t have a Muslim friend should read it.
Muslim Headshawl
I am a Muslim.
Nine years ago I stayed at a Muslim boarding school in Indonesia. While I was there I wore a head covering (jilbab, in Indonesian), joined a religious fast, and avoided physical contact with boys.* None of that was required, and the girls I stayed with were constantly urging me to take off the jilbab because of the heat (I was fine, and so were they). The jilbab was part of the uniform, but it really came into its own as a flirtation device.
Here’s how it’s done (based on lots of observation):
1. Spot a boy you like.
2. Giggle as if you’ve never seen a boy before.
3. Watch carefully for the exact moment the boy tries to meet your eye.
4. Quickly hide your face with the side of your jilbab.
5. Giggle as if you are Shocked and Apalled that a boy would dare look at you.
6. Repeat.
Speaking of jilbabs, I recently saw the head of the Australian Muslim Women’s Association on TV. This is an organisation that represents and protects Muslim women (and the head is a woman, of course). Although she and her staff receive many calls for assistance from Muslim women, her organisation has never had a woman call to say that her husband or father is forcing her to cover her head.
It’s worth repeating: Women in Australia are covering their heads because they choose to cover their heads.
So if you respect women’s rights – let them.
To many Westerners, the jilbab or burka is a symbol of the oppression of women. To Muslim women, it is a symbol of a compassionate God, a symbol of beauty, and a symbol of personal pride in who they are.
So I’m proud to wear it today.
Since we’re here, here’s my one-minute lecture on what it means to be a Muslim.
The five pillars of Islam.
1. The creed (said three times in Arabic): There is no God but Allah and Muhammed is his prophet.
2. Giving to the poor.
3. Fasting (from dawn to dusk for up to forty days).
4. Pilgrimage to Mecca (for those who are financially able).
5. Prayer five times a day.
You’ll notice suicide bombs don’t feature.
I have read the Christian Bible, and an English translation of the Koran, and the Bible (rather embarrassingly) is much more violent. The Koran utterly condemns violence against innocents, and also condemns starting wars – a true jihad can only be fought in self-defence. Suicide bombs are definitely not allowed in the Koran’s principles, as any Muslim can tell you.
I have personally stayed in an entire town of Muslim refugees from a people group murdered and dispossessed by Christians.
So don’t you dare tell me Muslims are violent.
Obviously, killing and mutilating people of another faith doesn’t agree with the Christian faith, either (despite the disturbing parts of the Old Testament).
I am a Muslim because a girl at that boarding school in Indonesia cared enough for me to ask me to say the creed three times, which I did. That makes me a Muslim – technically. In reality, I am a Christian – mainly because I’ve met Jesus and after that he’s a bit difficult to ignore. (Side note: Muslims believe Jesus was a prophet, but not as important as Muhammed. Both religions trace their spiritual lineage to Abraham, so we have a lot in common.)
In my opinion, the only crucial difference between Islam and Christianity is that Muslims must earn their way to paradise (Allah mercifully forgives sins, which certainly helps), while Christians are given total forgiveness and a free ticket to paradise because of Jesus’ death – so we can just chill salvation-wise, except that we (hopefully) respect God enough to be good people too.
The commandments given by God and Allah are virtually identical – love your neighbour, help the poor, practise hospitality.
I sometimes wear a cross. Muslims sometimes cover their head. That is all.
Today’s awesomeness is Steffmetal.com’s # 45: Worship a new God.
Yesterday, Don Miller sang Christmas carols near what turned out to be a terrorist bomb. He wrote a blog today about terrorism and extremism far better than I could (this is G-rated, so go ahead and read it).
http://donmilleris.com/2010/11/30/the-war-on-extremism/
*Easy to do, since boys are gross anyway.
Felicity Banks 