(sidebar: i loveloveloved your Echo story - what I hoped mine could be with some more time. love.)
Here is a presentation of some of my ponderable ponderings
1-2. The Heroine- Lately when imagining her, I've come up with some ideas. I'm thinking she could be a bounty hunter of sorts, a real Claymore/Kim Possible type. (With the awesomeness of the former and the expert styling and awesome hair of the latter)A girl, teens, awesome outfit. I think this post could open up doors into all sorts of shennanigans, storylines encompassing multiple mythologies, stories, plots, and charactrers. I dont want to limit ourselves to Greek, i personally enjoy Norse and Egyptian enough to take a peek at some wikepedias. Think of the variety of Fate/Zero... King Arthur, Alexander the Great, and Heracles all in the same place. Meshing these worlds together into one, and providing a perfectly competent heroine to explore them could be magical.
3. I appreciate a good sword as much as the next girl, but i find fencing a little tame for a fantasy environment. Somehow I think you'll agree that a double-handed broadsword is a little more fun :)But somehow I also appreciate a certain Batman (who might also make an appearance?)-esque style of handling baddies with inventions and cleverness rather then strength. Perhaps we can compartmentalize different styles into different characters. Everyone needs a sidekick/support characters. Everyone.
4. Robots can make an appearence - I like that a setting/plot such as this one can be very flexible with storyline (much like Gunnerkrigg Court). Transitioning from Robots to Fairies to Egyptian Gods seems very natural.
5. A major villain is a very long-term commitment, but i agree on what you have said detailing them. I think initially we should focus on one baddie at a time, to be conqured within a short chapter plot arc. Then maybe they will eventually all tie in to a bigger villain. But a villain also means limitations. After they are defeated, what is left?
6. Sisters - to be quite honest, when reading the Hunger Games, when Katniss was actually in the arena I did not care one iota about Prim. I was all "OMG PEETA IS DYINGGGGG!" But I do agree that a sibling is a much stronger thing to fight for then a recently met lover. I just dont want to rule out having one because I am a teenage girl. And these sorts of things need to be on the back burner to keep me interested. But a brother/brother and sister/sister or even brother/sister pairing is nice. (Alphonse/Ed, Katniss/Prim, Hansel/Gretel Forever)
8.Magic is fun. And colorful. Win.
9.I like parents, in the way that you can guess who they are (Naruto) or see the resemblance/inheritence of traits (Anja/Donald=Kat, Surma/Annie) in your main characters. But it's always so sad that they are mostly dead :(
Specifics
1. I was thinking maybe Hermes could be her employer. With his myraid of roles, he could have an infinite ammount of assignments or oddjobs that would make an excellent story.
Possible Characters
Heroine, Sidekick/Partner, Love interest, Employers, Clients, Enemies, Rivals (maybe she could attend some time of school for this kind of things, exploring the classes and the students within them - a rival pairing going after the same jobs), animal companions (Rey, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, dog, wolf, pheonix, etc.)
I will come up with some concept sketches for characters soon! Call to remind me occasionally...
Monday, January 16, 2012
things that should be in the BEST story.
Things!
List generic overarching things that could have anything to do with the story- Heroines! Hero! Pure of heart, proper and tall, neat, fair and handsome, and straight in each limb. Or nerdy, strange, curious and brave. Or some combination of all of those.
- Myths/Legends/Fairy tales/Gods out of place and time
- I always love stories that are linked to other intricate webs of stories that the reader may be familiar with but that take on so many shapes and forms they can be retold really however you like.
- Fencing. Swords are a must.
- Robots?
- Extremely villainous villain(s)
- I personally am a fan of those who don't believe that they are indeed villainous, whether they are working for what they believe is a good cause and there methods become twisted over time, or something so ancient and old they really don't give a damn what is good or evil.
- Sisters.
- Heroes need something to fight for, and I always think the unconditional and unwavering love between siblings is so much stronger than true love or love at first sight any day. Part of why Katniss is so great in Hunger Games.
- A deux ex machina
- Magic of some sort, not necessarily in the traditional sense
- Parents! That exist, and love, or at least have some exposition before they are brutally murdered some time in the past. Like the two Doctors in a Wrinkle in Time, Surma, or Naruto. I always thought generational connections were really interesting.
More Specific Things!
elements/characters that are particular and you'd like to use throw in - Hermes
- whatever we end up writing, I'd like to use Hermes as a relatively important character if we end up incorporating old myths and legends. He's my absolute favorite and there are few really good stories about him where he isn't just a mail man. He's also the patron of boundaries and of the travelers who cross them (which is also good if we good we go the quest route), of the cunning, of thieves, the silver tongued, literature and poets, and invention, which I think is much more interesting than just messages and his psychopomp duties.
- Legendary Weapon
- The Vorpal Blade and its *snicker snack* sound effect was my favorite part of fables, and I also love Coyote's blade that has coyote's laughter teetering on the edge. I think an epic weapon should definitely be in there.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Homage to Kiera's Echo
I could feel myself dying. The firmness and clarity of the world slowly ebbed away, all color, all joy, all substance slowly condensing into only my love, Narcissus, who reclined at the edge of the pool. He was weak now as well, his once sun kissed skin clung to his sharp cheekbones, taking on the pallor of those who neither slept nor ate. In the beginning he would plunge his arms outstretched into the depths, attempting to embrace his godlike visage reflected there. Now his perfect fingertips limply hovered above the water, not daring to disturb the glassy surface lest the slightly ragged, yet all consumingly beautiful youth portrayed there disappear forever.
Now and then I felt the cool palm of the goddess lightly rest on my forehead, sometimes the soft delicate touch of a child, other times the firm callused hands of the women she could become. I knew she was keeping me alive somehow, forcing me to absorb some of the nature of the forest that sustained me, but even she could not permanently tether me to this life. I cared not for such things. In piercing my heart, Eros's arrow may have well pinned me to the ground. I was content to remain here, in completely blissful agony, absorbed in the soft curve of Narcissus's neck, the sharp angle of his jaw, his parted lips and now shallow breath.
The other one used to come as well. She would sit a ways from us twirling her long golden hair and emitting peals of (what in any lesser being) could be considered raccus laughter. She would exclaim to her cohort as they fluttered around her, buffing her nails, braiding her hair, and angling mirrors so that she could also observe her ever subtly changing and flawless facade that we were "Just so perfectly tragic"! If Narcissus completely sapped of all strength from hunger ever unattractively flopped to one side she would order one of her attendants to arrange his form more gracefully, or to fuss with my now ragged dress, and strew the both of us with fresh flowers, removing the decaying remains of the ones from her last visit to an ungainly heap out of sight.
On one of her visits, she too had disturbed me, cupping my chin in a perfectly manicured hand, tilting my head from side to side. "See darling! Didn't I tell you it would all be worth it! Aren't you just so exquisitely grateful to be part of such a heartbreaking and perfect tale! We'll all be gossiping about this one for ages. Vain Narcissus and a stupid unrequited little Echo".
At her touch, I was filled with an all consuming rage. Not from her mocking, but because she had diverted my gaze from my love, if only for a second. I summoned up a rare burst of will, the small part of me that existed before Narcissus (what a ridiculous thought!) snapping my head away and snarling at the perfectly composed golden being. Her hand was back like a vice, her face transformed by anger, a terrifying cold beauty that struck fear through even my ridiculously occupied heart. I was transfixed. Her eyes were old, so so so very old. And cold. And heartless. We forget sometimes, mortals and gods alike, that Aphrodite was one of the first. Distracted by her beauty, and complete lack of any responsibility ( she's the only goddess with only one dominion!) we forget that she's from a completely different generation. Aphrodite was born of Uranus, before Zeus, before the Titans. She is ancient, and all the more powerful for it....
(Sorry Kiera, couldn't resist! Will finish later)
Now and then I felt the cool palm of the goddess lightly rest on my forehead, sometimes the soft delicate touch of a child, other times the firm callused hands of the women she could become. I knew she was keeping me alive somehow, forcing me to absorb some of the nature of the forest that sustained me, but even she could not permanently tether me to this life. I cared not for such things. In piercing my heart, Eros's arrow may have well pinned me to the ground. I was content to remain here, in completely blissful agony, absorbed in the soft curve of Narcissus's neck, the sharp angle of his jaw, his parted lips and now shallow breath.
The other one used to come as well. She would sit a ways from us twirling her long golden hair and emitting peals of (what in any lesser being) could be considered raccus laughter. She would exclaim to her cohort as they fluttered around her, buffing her nails, braiding her hair, and angling mirrors so that she could also observe her ever subtly changing and flawless facade that we were "Just so perfectly tragic"! If Narcissus completely sapped of all strength from hunger ever unattractively flopped to one side she would order one of her attendants to arrange his form more gracefully, or to fuss with my now ragged dress, and strew the both of us with fresh flowers, removing the decaying remains of the ones from her last visit to an ungainly heap out of sight.
On one of her visits, she too had disturbed me, cupping my chin in a perfectly manicured hand, tilting my head from side to side. "See darling! Didn't I tell you it would all be worth it! Aren't you just so exquisitely grateful to be part of such a heartbreaking and perfect tale! We'll all be gossiping about this one for ages. Vain Narcissus and a stupid unrequited little Echo".
At her touch, I was filled with an all consuming rage. Not from her mocking, but because she had diverted my gaze from my love, if only for a second. I summoned up a rare burst of will, the small part of me that existed before Narcissus (what a ridiculous thought!) snapping my head away and snarling at the perfectly composed golden being. Her hand was back like a vice, her face transformed by anger, a terrifying cold beauty that struck fear through even my ridiculously occupied heart. I was transfixed. Her eyes were old, so so so very old. And cold. And heartless. We forget sometimes, mortals and gods alike, that Aphrodite was one of the first. Distracted by her beauty, and complete lack of any responsibility ( she's the only goddess with only one dominion!) we forget that she's from a completely different generation. Aphrodite was born of Uranus, before Zeus, before the Titans. She is ancient, and all the more powerful for it....
(Sorry Kiera, couldn't resist! Will finish later)
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
A Childish Apology - A Poem on 'regrets'
My mother told me to apologize to you,
These words are things I’d rather not say,
But here I am, at your door,
Saying sorry for what I did that day.
I regret pouring my juice on you,
Even though you were being a brat.
I regret tugging on your hair,
After you called me fat.
I regret coloring on your picture,
Even after you colored on mine.
I regret putting mud in your shoes,
After you lied about ‘everything being fine’
I regret yelling at you,
Even after you stepped on my sandcastle.
I regret refusing to talk to you,
Because you are really quite a hassle.
I regret storming out of the room,
After you blamed your shenanigans on me.
I regret stepping on your foot,
After you made fun of me.
I regret trying to ignore you,
Because it only made it worse.
I regret kicking you in the shin,
After you poured ink into my purse.
Really, I think you are rather wicked,
I don’t want to be near you at all,
But I’m being the bigger person,
And paying you a call.
The one thing I don’t regret at all,
Even though our relationship is a chore,
Is that right after I apologized,
I snuck a tarantula through your door.
These words are things I’d rather not say,
But here I am, at your door,
Saying sorry for what I did that day.
I regret pouring my juice on you,
Even though you were being a brat.
I regret tugging on your hair,
After you called me fat.
I regret coloring on your picture,
Even after you colored on mine.
I regret putting mud in your shoes,
After you lied about ‘everything being fine’
I regret yelling at you,
Even after you stepped on my sandcastle.
I regret refusing to talk to you,
Because you are really quite a hassle.
I regret storming out of the room,
After you blamed your shenanigans on me.
I regret stepping on your foot,
After you made fun of me.
I regret trying to ignore you,
Because it only made it worse.
I regret kicking you in the shin,
After you poured ink into my purse.
Really, I think you are rather wicked,
I don’t want to be near you at all,
But I’m being the bigger person,
And paying you a call.
The one thing I don’t regret at all,
Even though our relationship is a chore,
Is that right after I apologized,
I snuck a tarantula through your door.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
"The Cow Goes Moo" :)
When I was a child, I knew a secret. Something I assumed nobody else was smart enough to figure out. You see, there was a cow in the supermarket. Grocery shopping is an unfortunate chore for any youngster, and I was no different. Walking around in seemingly pointless directions, having my suggestions (mostly of sweets or candy) constantly denied, and I wasn’t even able to take the cart for the occasional joyride up and down the aisles! All in all, a dead boring waste of time (at this point in my life, I didn’t care to make the connection between the food in the store and the food in my stomach).
But one day, I discovered an abnormality that refused to be ignored. As my father rolled the cart to a gentle stop in the milk aisle, he turned the other way to choose between two different brands of cheddar cheese. I settled down for a wait, (as my father, the ultimate frugal shopper, took hours to compare prices and quality) rocking in place and looking around absent-mindedly. That was when I heard it. A sudden and unexpected noise had ripped through the silence of the moment like my kiddie-scissors through wrapping paper, leaving an intoxicating stillness in its wake.
Entranced, I moved closer to the wall of milk, concentrating on my latest discovery. “Moo.” This simple onomatopoeia left an incredible conundrum for my self-proclaimed dizzying intellect. I thought for a moment, coming up with an extremely scientific conclusion. It was elementary, that of course, there was a cow behind the milk aisle. I had been in the waiting room of the doctor’s office long enough to know that ‘the cow goes moo.’ As no other being I knew of made that particular noise, it was simple to put 2 and 2 together and say that there was a cow in our midst. Immediately after coming to this conclusion, I was overwhelmed with pity. That poor cow, alone with no cow-friends to play with. What an unfortunate situation. Suddenly filled with a sense of comradery (for I was devastatingly bored as well), I ‘moo’ed back, to let the cow know that it was not alone.
This is what I miss most about being a child, what I wish I could have back now that I have changed. Those simple senses of imagination and childish naivety, they make the world a more interesting place to live in. Nowadays, whenever I walk into Foodtown, and hear that tinny old speaker moo at me, I smile. For I have a new secret. Every now and then, I still moo back at the milk. You never know, perhaps my child self was smarter than she appeared.
But one day, I discovered an abnormality that refused to be ignored. As my father rolled the cart to a gentle stop in the milk aisle, he turned the other way to choose between two different brands of cheddar cheese. I settled down for a wait, (as my father, the ultimate frugal shopper, took hours to compare prices and quality) rocking in place and looking around absent-mindedly. That was when I heard it. A sudden and unexpected noise had ripped through the silence of the moment like my kiddie-scissors through wrapping paper, leaving an intoxicating stillness in its wake.
Entranced, I moved closer to the wall of milk, concentrating on my latest discovery. “Moo.” This simple onomatopoeia left an incredible conundrum for my self-proclaimed dizzying intellect. I thought for a moment, coming up with an extremely scientific conclusion. It was elementary, that of course, there was a cow behind the milk aisle. I had been in the waiting room of the doctor’s office long enough to know that ‘the cow goes moo.’ As no other being I knew of made that particular noise, it was simple to put 2 and 2 together and say that there was a cow in our midst. Immediately after coming to this conclusion, I was overwhelmed with pity. That poor cow, alone with no cow-friends to play with. What an unfortunate situation. Suddenly filled with a sense of comradery (for I was devastatingly bored as well), I ‘moo’ed back, to let the cow know that it was not alone.
This is what I miss most about being a child, what I wish I could have back now that I have changed. Those simple senses of imagination and childish naivety, they make the world a more interesting place to live in. Nowadays, whenever I walk into Foodtown, and hear that tinny old speaker moo at me, I smile. For I have a new secret. Every now and then, I still moo back at the milk. You never know, perhaps my child self was smarter than she appeared.
Monday, March 21, 2011
If I Were In the Movies
If Put Into the Movies . . . by Kiera Wolfe
A person often wonders, how their life would go,
If they lived inside a movie, the pictures, or TV show.
Well, I’ve done some speculation and it just goes to prove,
Your thoughts go in some crazy directions, once you’re in the groove.
A chick flick comes to mind of course, I know what I would be,
The witty best friend, the comic relief, helpful and rather artsy.
In a zombie movie I’m not too confident, my chances could offend,
I would probably turn right after the cheerleader, way before the end.
If placed inside a drama, you might not want me on the staff,
I often cannot watch something so ridiculous without a single laugh.
A cop show sounds like a good time, yes it looks rather fun,
But I don’t know of anyone that would just hand me a gun.
If we are talking franchises, I will have to intervene,
For in Star Wars, I already know my light saber would be green
If put in Harry Potter, I’d quickly befriend Loony Luna,
If I’m stuck inside The Office, I’d hang with Pam and Tuna.
A musical? Of course I’d participate, and probably have a blast,
But I feel that after High School Musical, that genre has blown past.
A western would be hilarious; if I get to ride a horse,
Really anything would be cool, if I was in it of course!
A person often wonders, how their life would go,
If they lived inside a movie, the pictures, or TV show.
Well, I’ve done some speculation and it just goes to prove,
Your thoughts go in some crazy directions, once you’re in the groove.
A chick flick comes to mind of course, I know what I would be,
The witty best friend, the comic relief, helpful and rather artsy.
In a zombie movie I’m not too confident, my chances could offend,
I would probably turn right after the cheerleader, way before the end.
If placed inside a drama, you might not want me on the staff,
I often cannot watch something so ridiculous without a single laugh.
A cop show sounds like a good time, yes it looks rather fun,
But I don’t know of anyone that would just hand me a gun.
If we are talking franchises, I will have to intervene,
For in Star Wars, I already know my light saber would be green
If put in Harry Potter, I’d quickly befriend Loony Luna,
If I’m stuck inside The Office, I’d hang with Pam and Tuna.
A musical? Of course I’d participate, and probably have a blast,
But I feel that after High School Musical, that genre has blown past.
A western would be hilarious; if I get to ride a horse,
Really anything would be cool, if I was in it of course!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Master Escape Artist
by Kiera Wolfe
I’ve tricked the police, I’m really rather clever,
They wrongly believe, I’ll be in here forever.
I ramble nonsense sometimes; they think I’m a loon.
But, I’ve still one salvation, for I’ve sneaked in a spoon.
I’ve seen all the movies; I know what to do,
I gouge out a tunnel, and then say ‘toodaloo!’
But wait, how will I dig through straight stone?
I find it’s quite impossible, and I let out a moan.
But hey! I’m a genius! I’ll escape from this jerk,
I saw this idea on Mythbusters so it really must work.
I’ll make a long rope, woven from hair,
I’ll climb down the side, ha! No need to despair!
It’ll take me a while, but of hair there is plenty,
My bunkmate doesn’t need all her hair, she’s almost twenty!
But I forgot, they shaved her head to resell,
So now she’s bald! Alas, no useful people in this cell.
But don’t fret; my next plan is surefire,
It’ll be quite easy, no need to perspire.
I’ll rush out and get caught, get put in a new prison,
For my new plan is great, even if newly arisen.
I I’ve tricked the police, I’m really rather clever,
They wrongly believe, I’ll be in here forever.
But I’m in a new jail, this one’s in New York,
And I will escape, for this time I have a fork.
I’ve tricked the police, I’m really rather clever,
They wrongly believe, I’ll be in here forever.
I ramble nonsense sometimes; they think I’m a loon.
But, I’ve still one salvation, for I’ve sneaked in a spoon.
I’ve seen all the movies; I know what to do,
I gouge out a tunnel, and then say ‘toodaloo!’
But wait, how will I dig through straight stone?
I find it’s quite impossible, and I let out a moan.
But hey! I’m a genius! I’ll escape from this jerk,
I saw this idea on Mythbusters so it really must work.
I’ll make a long rope, woven from hair,
I’ll climb down the side, ha! No need to despair!
It’ll take me a while, but of hair there is plenty,
My bunkmate doesn’t need all her hair, she’s almost twenty!
But I forgot, they shaved her head to resell,
So now she’s bald! Alas, no useful people in this cell.
But don’t fret; my next plan is surefire,
It’ll be quite easy, no need to perspire.
I’ll rush out and get caught, get put in a new prison,
For my new plan is great, even if newly arisen.
I I’ve tricked the police, I’m really rather clever,
They wrongly believe, I’ll be in here forever.
But I’m in a new jail, this one’s in New York,
And I will escape, for this time I have a fork.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Here's a short clip of the latest project I've been developing. Essentially its a particle field that reacts to your webcam in order to sketch out these cool drawings. It pulls its opacity/direction directly from the webcam pixels. I put some more screen-shots on my documentation blog.
Swoon from Alex Wolfe on Vimeo.
Swoon from Alex Wolfe on Vimeo.
Monday, November 22, 2010
War? War! Poetry
We’ve gone to war, and declared it so
We both agree, if we are to grow,
Then one shall stay, and one shall go,
A colony shall remain, ichi, eins, uno
Red vs. Black, only we shall thrive,
As we climb over the hill, we will survive,
The queen is safe, well fed, and alive,
The Reds cower in fear until we arrive.
Using antennae, we relay and talk,
We hide behind the springtime stalk,
The sun is blocked out by a single hawk,
But we never stop, to look, to gawk
Our armies clash, workers and warriors galore,
Our enemies cower at our silent roar,
What is the reason for this gore?
Miniscule corpses line the floor.
But alas we were all one speed slower,
For the Human just finished with the leaf blower,
I can feel morale sinking lower, lower,
As millions of ants are bested by the lawn mower.
We both agree, if we are to grow,
Then one shall stay, and one shall go,
A colony shall remain, ichi, eins, uno
Red vs. Black, only we shall thrive,
As we climb over the hill, we will survive,
The queen is safe, well fed, and alive,
The Reds cower in fear until we arrive.
Using antennae, we relay and talk,
We hide behind the springtime stalk,
The sun is blocked out by a single hawk,
But we never stop, to look, to gawk
Our armies clash, workers and warriors galore,
Our enemies cower at our silent roar,
What is the reason for this gore?
Miniscule corpses line the floor.
But alas we were all one speed slower,
For the Human just finished with the leaf blower,
I can feel morale sinking lower, lower,
As millions of ants are bested by the lawn mower.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Googe Boutiques
Helllooo!
I am currently a bum, and have spend all my time programming robot vision/ a chess bot and have nothing remotely creative to share with you.
However, long hours of procrastination have finally bore fruit! Check out my google boutique! I wrote a long post about my thoughts on it over on the documentation blog since it was looking sad and colorless. Essentially it also uses a pretty revolutionary computer vision AI (for a shopping search that is) and slowly learns what you like based on the physical images rather than word tags. Extremely cool and worth making an account just to play around with. Plus you get to take one of those fun fashion quizzes to start. Here's a link to mine, and picture below : )
Monday, November 8, 2010
Little Jamie: A Poem of Mischief
Little Jamie
Little Jamie ran through the town, wreaking havoc at every turn,
Jamie’s taunts and torments made the ladies ‘tsk’ with concern.
Mischief was Jamie’s forte; you would never catch Jamie with a toy,
Instead, people were Jamie’s playthings, and their agony caused great joy.
Jamie would trap spiders, and let them loose in class,
And threw paper airplanes at the choir when attending Sunday Mass.
When Jamie was looking for some fun, all the pets would hide,
For Jamie would throw bricks at them, and look upon their hurts with pride.
When Jamie decided it was time to play, there would appear a length of string,
That wound around the feet of runners, and left then with a mighty sting.
Jamie poured pots of water on walkers beneath Jamie’s windowsill,
And for the rest of the day they were sad and wet and caught a horrid chill.
Jamie picked up frogs and snails, and would put them in your bed,
So when you woke, Jamie could laugh with glee as they oozed around your head.
Jamie was a true menace; schoolgirls were constantly finding gum in their hair,
And Jamie would giggle contentedly from within an evil lair.
And when Jamie pulled the final straw, and stole the mayor’s prize pearl,
The town decided not to punish Jamie, for Jamie was a girl.
Little Jamie ran through the town, wreaking havoc at every turn,
Jamie’s taunts and torments made the ladies ‘tsk’ with concern.
Mischief was Jamie’s forte; you would never catch Jamie with a toy,
Instead, people were Jamie’s playthings, and their agony caused great joy.
Jamie would trap spiders, and let them loose in class,
And threw paper airplanes at the choir when attending Sunday Mass.
When Jamie was looking for some fun, all the pets would hide,
For Jamie would throw bricks at them, and look upon their hurts with pride.
When Jamie decided it was time to play, there would appear a length of string,
That wound around the feet of runners, and left then with a mighty sting.
Jamie poured pots of water on walkers beneath Jamie’s windowsill,
And for the rest of the day they were sad and wet and caught a horrid chill.
Jamie picked up frogs and snails, and would put them in your bed,
So when you woke, Jamie could laugh with glee as they oozed around your head.
Jamie was a true menace; schoolgirls were constantly finding gum in their hair,
And Jamie would giggle contentedly from within an evil lair.
And when Jamie pulled the final straw, and stole the mayor’s prize pearl,
The town decided not to punish Jamie, for Jamie was a girl.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Finished Wind Interaction Projects
Here are the photos of the finished turbine. This is the final result for my obstruction project from before. "Computer Art" without a computer, something that collects mundane data a represents it visually. The LED's brightness directly relates to the speed of the wind! It makes a beautiful dimming, brightening, dimming, sort of breathing pattern when in use. I originally wanted to make a bigger more extravagant diffuser than the little bird, but it was so cute, and it works very well.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Genevieve
Genevieve! From QC Strip Number 676! Im trying to shy away from the Gunnerkrigg stuff now that i think i can do those somewhat well. Bam!
Upcycled Wind Generator
Here are some shots of the wind generators I'm working on to power an installation. Made from an old case fan, PVC, scrap wood, and some steel tubing
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Ode to my Ultralord
Today I got an Ultralord; he’s really quite a catch.
I bought him in mint condition, not a single scratch.
But when I opened him up today, I realized something weird.
There was a problem with his voice box, just as I had feared.
My brand new Ultralord, the first thing that he said,
Was to ask whether I liked his nails, and if he should paint them red.
Then I faced Robo-Fiend, and put Ultralord in a fighting stance,
But instead of bringing justice, he wanted to go to the dance.
I prepared my Ultralord for battle, and gave him his laser blaster,
But when he stopped to check his hair, it turned into a disaster.
What is wrong with my Ultralord? He should be protecting space!
He is NOT a Barbie, what does he have makeup on his face?
I want another Ultralord, one that can actually fight,
I’ll give him to my sister, I’m sure he and Ken will get along alright.
I bought him in mint condition, not a single scratch.
But when I opened him up today, I realized something weird.
There was a problem with his voice box, just as I had feared.
My brand new Ultralord, the first thing that he said,
Was to ask whether I liked his nails, and if he should paint them red.
Then I faced Robo-Fiend, and put Ultralord in a fighting stance,
But instead of bringing justice, he wanted to go to the dance.
I prepared my Ultralord for battle, and gave him his laser blaster,
But when he stopped to check his hair, it turned into a disaster.
What is wrong with my Ultralord? He should be protecting space!
He is NOT a Barbie, what does he have makeup on his face?
I want another Ultralord, one that can actually fight,
I’ll give him to my sister, I’m sure he and Ken will get along alright.
Monday, October 25, 2010
A Scary Story
Alright my teacher said 'Write a Story like Edgar Allen Poe did.". Being kind of unobservant and hopelessly confused, she did not realize that A) half the class did not know who this was and B) The ones that did had not really read much of his work. In a class of eigth graders, this was the best she was going to get. So, most of us just assumed 'scary' or 'creepily ominous'. Although it probably has nothing to do with Poe, here is my contribution.
Kiera Wolfe
A Poe-like Story
The world exploded in a flash of light as Larry the maintenance man walked into the gold plated atrium in the kingdom of the gods. The double swirly doors of the Mount Olympus Hotel made quietly snobby thwacking noises as they spun around, ferrying tourists into the extravagant foyer. Everything was made of glass. The façade of the building let in the moonlight, which pierced the downy carpeting and threw the plushy couches and exquisite desks into harshly defined shadows.
The new guests swept into the hotel, sighing with relief. The clouds above were growling harshly, threatening to thunder on anyone who displeased them. Larry shook out his umbrella and efficiently stowed it under his jumpsuit-covered arm. He polished his name tag and briskly walked up to the front desk. The black haired and carefully manicured man behind the desk stood up slightly as he approached, looking him up and down, evaluating his worth. After a quick examination, he deemed the situation one that required a haughty aloofness. He straightened up quite a bit more and looked down his nose at Larry.
“Can I help you sir.” He drawled lazily, putting emphasis on his displeasure of using the word when referring to the maintenance man.
“Somebody called about some sort of elevator problem?”
“Oh. Yes. You’re here to fix Bessie aren’t you? Heh, good luck with that one. That old contraption shut down a month ago, won’t move an inch in either direction. The oldest elevator we have really. I don’t see why we just don’t replace it, it’s so useless.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.” Larry peered down at the man’s name tag “Joseph.”
“Oh you will, won’t you?” Joseph replied with a keen smile, showing an unnaturally large amount of teeth. “Now if you excuse me, other repair personnel need to be dealt with. Ones that are actually doing their jobs.” Larry turned, prepared to leave, as a scruffy man wearing a dirty sweatshirt and pants covered in grease shoved him out of the way. He smelled odd, and reeked of something Larry had never smelled before. He glanced at Larry suspiciously, and turned toward Joseph. Ignoring the snub from both parties, he sauntered away thoughtfully. His eyes are two different colors thought Larry, how peculiar.
He paced over to the elevator that Joseph had pointed at and referred to as ‘Bessie’. It was remarkably roomy, as elevators seemed to be these days, and there was a pretty design of wood paneling on the walls. But the lighting was a little off somehow, throwing the whole box into an ominous collection of subtle darkness. He walked inside, undeterred, and opened the maintenance patch in the wall intended for people of his profession. A flashing red light was blinking determinedly next to a plaque that read ‘WEIGHT LIMIT EXCEEDED’. Larry shook his head in confusion. There was no way that he would set off the scale by himself; he was a rather thin man. It would take at least seven people to weigh down the lift past its maximum capacity. He turned to report his findings to Joseph, not looking forward to another interaction with the oily man, but the hair-gelled monster was already standing outside the elevator, tapping his foot impatiently. “So, can you fix it or not, old man?”
“Well it seems that it’s nothing more than a weight problem, she isn’t moving because the machinery has been halted by the alarm.”
“Oh really.” Sneered Joseph skeptically. “And where is all this ‘weight’ coming from?” He added those atrocious air-quotes with his first two fingers around the word ‘weight’. Larry was secretly wondering the same thing. He did a closer examination of the elevator, looking for peculiarities. For the first time, he looked up, and saw a square patch of burgundy surrounding a small break in the flowery embroidery. Upon closer inspection, he found the traces of small bolts where a handle must be fastened on the other side of the patch. He pushed slightly, and did a small hop to push his head above the ceiling of the box.
A name flashed across his vision as he stared into a familiar face. A face that had emblazoned the cover of many a newspaper. A face that nobody had seen among the living for six weeks. Five more similar corpses littered the top of the elevator. One blue eye and one green lit up the darkness. Joseph slammed the doors shut just in time to conceal Larry’s final scream.
Kiera Wolfe
A Poe-like Story
The world exploded in a flash of light as Larry the maintenance man walked into the gold plated atrium in the kingdom of the gods. The double swirly doors of the Mount Olympus Hotel made quietly snobby thwacking noises as they spun around, ferrying tourists into the extravagant foyer. Everything was made of glass. The façade of the building let in the moonlight, which pierced the downy carpeting and threw the plushy couches and exquisite desks into harshly defined shadows.
The new guests swept into the hotel, sighing with relief. The clouds above were growling harshly, threatening to thunder on anyone who displeased them. Larry shook out his umbrella and efficiently stowed it under his jumpsuit-covered arm. He polished his name tag and briskly walked up to the front desk. The black haired and carefully manicured man behind the desk stood up slightly as he approached, looking him up and down, evaluating his worth. After a quick examination, he deemed the situation one that required a haughty aloofness. He straightened up quite a bit more and looked down his nose at Larry.
“Can I help you sir.” He drawled lazily, putting emphasis on his displeasure of using the word when referring to the maintenance man.
“Somebody called about some sort of elevator problem?”
“Oh. Yes. You’re here to fix Bessie aren’t you? Heh, good luck with that one. That old contraption shut down a month ago, won’t move an inch in either direction. The oldest elevator we have really. I don’t see why we just don’t replace it, it’s so useless.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.” Larry peered down at the man’s name tag “Joseph.”
“Oh you will, won’t you?” Joseph replied with a keen smile, showing an unnaturally large amount of teeth. “Now if you excuse me, other repair personnel need to be dealt with. Ones that are actually doing their jobs.” Larry turned, prepared to leave, as a scruffy man wearing a dirty sweatshirt and pants covered in grease shoved him out of the way. He smelled odd, and reeked of something Larry had never smelled before. He glanced at Larry suspiciously, and turned toward Joseph. Ignoring the snub from both parties, he sauntered away thoughtfully. His eyes are two different colors thought Larry, how peculiar.
He paced over to the elevator that Joseph had pointed at and referred to as ‘Bessie’. It was remarkably roomy, as elevators seemed to be these days, and there was a pretty design of wood paneling on the walls. But the lighting was a little off somehow, throwing the whole box into an ominous collection of subtle darkness. He walked inside, undeterred, and opened the maintenance patch in the wall intended for people of his profession. A flashing red light was blinking determinedly next to a plaque that read ‘WEIGHT LIMIT EXCEEDED’. Larry shook his head in confusion. There was no way that he would set off the scale by himself; he was a rather thin man. It would take at least seven people to weigh down the lift past its maximum capacity. He turned to report his findings to Joseph, not looking forward to another interaction with the oily man, but the hair-gelled monster was already standing outside the elevator, tapping his foot impatiently. “So, can you fix it or not, old man?”
“Well it seems that it’s nothing more than a weight problem, she isn’t moving because the machinery has been halted by the alarm.”
“Oh really.” Sneered Joseph skeptically. “And where is all this ‘weight’ coming from?” He added those atrocious air-quotes with his first two fingers around the word ‘weight’. Larry was secretly wondering the same thing. He did a closer examination of the elevator, looking for peculiarities. For the first time, he looked up, and saw a square patch of burgundy surrounding a small break in the flowery embroidery. Upon closer inspection, he found the traces of small bolts where a handle must be fastened on the other side of the patch. He pushed slightly, and did a small hop to push his head above the ceiling of the box.
A name flashed across his vision as he stared into a familiar face. A face that had emblazoned the cover of many a newspaper. A face that nobody had seen among the living for six weeks. Five more similar corpses littered the top of the elevator. One blue eye and one green lit up the darkness. Joseph slammed the doors shut just in time to conceal Larry’s final scream.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Be Exited! Ode To Ultralord
My next Poetry Cafe is about Barbies/Action Figures. I'm thinking on doing an Ode to Ultralord comments? or just speak "barbie girl" rhythmically and see if my teacher notices :P
heres the Jimmy Neutron wiki page entry on Ultralord:
Ultralord is a fictional TV show character in a fictional TV show, with which Sheen Estevez and his family is really obsessed with. Also there are a series of action figures out. In the show his worst enemy is Robo-Fiend, but Sheen often says that he battled many enemies like "The predatrous plants." Ultralord has many merchandise products, such as masks, action figures, clothes, and more. In the feature film, Sheen receives an Ultralord mask from an Ultralord mascot. Sheen's dad also has an Ultralord mask that he wears often.
What Motivates You The Most To Do Well In School? (APP)
A smile can mean a lot of things. A smile could be a gesture, meant to convey a content or happy disposition. A smile could be a cheery hello to your neighbor in the morning. A smile could be a window to experience the pure glee of another. Or, a smile could be a thinly veiled challenge, a test of wit and determination between peers. As I sit impatiently in my algebra class, waiting for a test to land on my desk, I share such an expression with my desk partner. Our eyes lock, and our eyebrows raise, and we swiftly look away. But that was enough to convey a myriad of emotions and suggestions. That simple glance was the throwing down of the gauntlet, the first swish of the red flag that forever tempts the bull. That simple connection says:
"I have defeated many an algebra test, and I have no intention of losing to a feeble minded hooligan like you. I WILL get an AMAZING grade and promptly throw it in your face. You just wait for your slow and disgraceful academic downfall." We look down, shuffle our papers, and then turn towards each other again. I casually shrug as if to say:
"It’s your call. Defeat this challenge or forever live in mind-shattering shame." Then, I look back down at my paper, intent on getting an A. This silent face off is what motivates me to do well in school. The secret challenges of intelligence that go on every day. A constant battle between myself and all the pressures in my life. It comes at me from all sides; my peers, constantly motivating me to improve and prove my own intellect; my family, pressuring me to do as well as they have; and the society I live in, forcing everyone of my generation to have a different outlook than the previous ones on the norms of education . My classmates, family, and age group all over the world are getting smarter every day. I incessantly strive to keep up with my entire environment, and personally think I’m doing pretty well. Whatever it is, fear, hope, pressure, or even OCD that motivates my generation to succeed in school is obviously doing a bang-up job, and I can only imagine the amazing things that these forces will push us to accomplish.
"I have defeated many an algebra test, and I have no intention of losing to a feeble minded hooligan like you. I WILL get an AMAZING grade and promptly throw it in your face. You just wait for your slow and disgraceful academic downfall." We look down, shuffle our papers, and then turn towards each other again. I casually shrug as if to say:
"It’s your call. Defeat this challenge or forever live in mind-shattering shame." Then, I look back down at my paper, intent on getting an A. This silent face off is what motivates me to do well in school. The secret challenges of intelligence that go on every day. A constant battle between myself and all the pressures in my life. It comes at me from all sides; my peers, constantly motivating me to improve and prove my own intellect; my family, pressuring me to do as well as they have; and the society I live in, forcing everyone of my generation to have a different outlook than the previous ones on the norms of education . My classmates, family, and age group all over the world are getting smarter every day. I incessantly strive to keep up with my entire environment, and personally think I’m doing pretty well. Whatever it is, fear, hope, pressure, or even OCD that motivates my generation to succeed in school is obviously doing a bang-up job, and I can only imagine the amazing things that these forces will push us to accomplish.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)