Contrary to popular belief, I am, in fact, alive.

Very alive.

And happy.

Because, my lovelies, of something splendid that happened to me at the beginning of 2012 that I have yet to post about yet. But when I do, believe me, there will be a plethora of pictures to prove that it did indeed happen, and that it was indeed lovely beyond words.

At the moment, though, all you get is a picture of me trying to communicate through a simple facial expression my life at the moment. That and bearing a similar resemblence to that of a gopher.

One too many algebraic word problems, perhaps? I do believe it’s pushed me over the edge and I’ve gone mad. For the record, I don’t really care how many ounces of butter Theodore spreads upon his toaster waffle every morning. Nor do ever plan to in my future adulthood. But hey, dream on, Algebra.

You’re welcome, and goodnight.

Do not speak, do.
Do not post, act.
Do not share links, share Christ.

From my friend Ben Chambers

Born out of a death, Genius Inc. has survived… And in life it has flourished…

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Now I will stop trying to write something epic sounding…

Genius Inc. was created because my other blog was hosted on JibeNow, and JibeNow had to close down. In Created Equal’s 9 month life I had posted 5-6 times, so when I made Geinus Inc. I decided to post a lot more. Apparently it worked. This is my 89th post.

So lets all sing Happy Birthday, (and hope I can continue to find things to post…)

In fact, Ange is willing to give up her goth-personality for a more responsible looking personality, and move to Washington, D.C. so that she can attend more rallies, particularly a large one later in the fall. Ange, at only sixteen, has some problems on her own, but manages living in a hostel, working at a grocery.

As she attends civil disobedience trainings and starts to lead trainings herself, Ange struggles to lead and interact with adults when they know she’s underage. Additionally, the protocol for dealing with a minor in the event of arrest is problematic and bureaucratic for a minor without a guardian to call upon.

Throughout the book, Ange learns to personally handle her own (temporary) “age-deficiency” and learns how to interact with adults in a mature and responsible way. She also challenges societies’ methods for handling minors, fighting for her right to live independently, without a legal guardian.

Dr. Bramhall’s writing flowed well. Written in first-person narrative, almost stream-of-consciousness style, “The Battle for Tomorrow” used the technique well. Ange’s voice was well-defined and clear. Dr. Bramhall captured the voice of a scared teenager who is still figuring herself out very well.

Although I didn’t agree with some of Ange’s political leanings (e.g., socialism), I admired the passion Ange exhibited, and the resolve she had to act on her beliefs and to see change happen. This inspired me to strive harder to stand up for my beliefs, even in ways that might not be comfortable.

I was also fascinated by the lifestyles I might not normally be exposed to – of living in a hostel, of marching and blockading roads – and I thought the book well-exposed the personal rationales behind any extremist movement.

Although I really enjoyed this book, I would only recommend this book to older readers, as it dealt with mature themes. That said, I would highly recommend “The Battle for Tomorrow” – it was an inspiring and insightful look at political change and the struggle for minors.

Last week’s This American Life shined a spotlight on the working conditions in the Chinese factories where iPhones are made. Just one example of the hardships there: the men and women in these factories work very long days spent repeating the same motions over and over, which creates amped-up carpal tunnel syndrome in their wrists and hands. This often results in them losing the use of their hands for the rest of their lives. This condition could be easily prevented if the workers were rotated through different positions in the factory, but they are not. Why? Because there are no labor laws in China to protect these people.

Via: this petition you may want to sign

Then, perfect turns on its end. She gets stuck in a fainting spell. While coming in and out of her coma, she hears William and her mom and dad discussing “finding the right person” and yelling, with worry in their voices. Next thing she knows, she’s awake and nobody remembers William and she supposedly doesn’t remember the accident.

“The Dragonfly Prophecy” involves super powers (yes, super powers as in flying, and shooting lasers, and invisibility, and teleportation, and fighting), dual worlds (not parallel exactly, but co-existent), romance, and mystery. Castle has crafted a believable and creative universe for her story to take place in.

The plot was entirely unpredictable. The only thing I successfully predicted was the happy ending, but I had no idea, throughout the entire novel how that would happen, or, for a large part, what it would look like. The plot was intricate, well-crafted, and compelling. Castle kept twists coming that kept me reading far too late into the night. The ending was maybe a little quick, and I didn’t feel that the Evangeline subplot was fleshed out, but these are minor irritants in a largely well-done book. The largest fault I found was that the romance often irritated me – particularly with William – as the plot progressed. However, I am often cynical and unromantic, so that dig might just be me.

Overall, “The Dragonfly Prophecy” was a well-written book with good characters, a multi-layered world and plot, and good writing. I would recommend “The Dragonfly Prophecy” to anyone looking for an original and well-done fantasy novel.

There was one day when the sky was a sheet of silver and I was keeping my eye on the rhododendron bushes because they kept jostling about in an unnatural sort of way, when someone poked me harshly on the shoulder and asked me the quickest way to town. I blinked twice and began to surreptitiously look for the fire escape. Because there’s something about that town I don’t really fancy… maybe it’s the identical lightening rods on all the apartments or the deserted playground behind the city hall. I always send people the long way back. And I stay out here with the friendly moss and the rocks that steam in the morning. But people are always asking me for directions to leave.

So now I’m climbing a ragged staircase up a wizened precipice, and everyone has left. Maybe I left them. I’m on a quest, see. I don’t really know what I’m looking for, but I’ve always wanted to go questing. When I was little, I used to lie in bed and make up stories that usually involved Ivanhoe. There was one hill in my imagination that I remember very clearly, though I don’t know why. I think we changed horses there once and spied upon the world at our feet before racing into its environs. Now I pull myself up to a narrow ledge that looks like it belongs on the stairs of Cirith Ungol and slowly turn around to face the wind. The muscular beauty of the sea owns the landscape far beneath me, and I can see the pinprick outlines of a few lingering tourists stooping to collect shells as souveniers. Suddenly, I begin to feel very lonely. Maybe there’s still something I need down there. Someday I’ll reach into my backpack, pull out the pieces of canvas and cord I stuffed inside, and assemble them with shivering hands. Then I’ll throw off my heavy coat, reach into my pocket for a little extra courage, and jump on the wind’s back (and away we will go). And maybe I’ll find in flight what I was looking for on foot. Maybe, suspended among the seagulls, grasping my hang-glider with reddened hands, I’ll know what to wish for when I see the first star at night, and when at last I reach the ground and roll before coming to a stop, I’ll rise knowing what God expects of me.

Alternatively, we could retain the love story by rerouting their courtship to be less disturbing. Bella Swan would rebuff his advances, despite her desire to yield to him. Her crush on him would be unable to subvert good sense. Edward would continue to be a creepy bastard, but eventually, he too recognizes his behavior was inappropriate and banishes himself from her company. If he could channel his interest into her by corresponding with her from afar, an epistolary romance could develop based upon mutual respect and shared interests. Twilight would become the story of a supernatural long-distance relationship, and much like people who fall in love online, they get past physical and lifestyle differences. At the end, he could cautiously return, and they would give “going steady” a whirl.

via

Pandas aren't racist

From 9gag.com. You’ve got to check out their source code. Pretty slick site. (but I’ll caution you that there’s also some “sketchy” stuff as well)