Okay, first the update.

Franny and I are doing well, keeping busy with Mary Kay/school and thesis/teaching (respectively), and enjoying the early stages of pregnancy. That is, enjoying the idea that we're going to have a baby; Franny's not enjoying the nausea part. We're due on September 24, which gives me exactly 6 months, 11 days, and 3 hours to enjoy the last sleeping-in I will ever be allowed for the rest of my life. Ever. I haven't fully grasped that yet, which is why I've remained calm so far. I'm just waiting for it. Franny is starting to show, and looks incredibly attractive. Pretty clever, the way God hardwires that response into the husband's brain. But anyway...

...I've been staying busy with this thesis. I've created my outline, and it looks as though my thesis will follow the standard "Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Conclusion" format. That is, unless I change it again. It's difficult writing about an author whose most recent works are published by an independent press in a small Senegalese town. Barnes & Noble and Amazon don't usually carry those books. I'm almost finished with Chapter 1, which examines the early work of Ayi Kwei Armah (The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born; Fragments; Why Are We So Blest?). My main focus at this point is making sure I strike the right balance between presenting my own reading of the novels and incorporating the criticism that has built up around Armah. I still find myself overly influenced by various critics' readings of Armah; if I'm not careful, I end up simply regurgitating what's already been said. Which is not what I want to do. I originally intended to use Ernst Bloch's analysis of the principles of hope to inform my examination of the novels, but the more I write the more I wonder if that's going to come off as smoothly as I thought it would. I feel as though I'm reaching for something that's not quite there. Besides which, it seems pretty obvious. I dunno. The feedback I get from Dr. Booker after I submit the rough draft of my first chaper will help me sharpen my focus, I think.

Lately, while not working on my thesis, I've been trying to update the NPCs from the 3.0 D&D adventure City of the Spider Queen to the current 3.5 version of the game. The conversion isn't difficult, but formatting the individual entries is a pain. I plan on inflicting the meat-shredding agony of the module on certain friends who thought I'd be a fun DM.... *evil grin*

If you're looking for music to help you relax, I highly recommend Miles Davis' Kind of Blue. And I don't normally listen to Jazz. I borrowed the CD from a fellow graduate student friend of mine, and have really been enjoying it. Alternatively, Metallica's black album is also somewhat soothing. In a "nobody understands me and I hate you" sort of way.  ¶ Posted by Ben @ 9:00 PM

  Yeowzah!!!

A pinto shibby-shabby toolamara WOOO! Krakatoa tumbarelly cotton-pickin' FOO'!!


...No, really. I mean it. NOW!

The fact that no-one reads this blog any more, it having been virtual years since I last updated, means that I can say such things with impunity. By 'virtual years,' I mean exactly that--years which, according to the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, are "of, relating to, or being a hypothetical particle whose existence is inferred from indirect evidence." Which is precisely my point. See?

I experience the passage of Time. Let's take a day as an example. I watch it ticking by, taste the slippery ooze, hear the scratchy shuffle as it scrapes across my skin*. I know Franny experiences it too. I see her go about her day--that's part of how my Time is spent. And I must assume that the day passes for my friends too: I see them in one place, spend Time going somewhere else, and sometimes see them in that other place as well. They must have been somewhere while my day was passing, and therefore it must have passed for them as well. Which means that I experience a day, Franny experiences a day, and at least one of my friends experiences a day. Add them together and you have three (indirect) days in the space of one! Virtual Time, do you see, which means that in the months since I last updated this blog, virtual years have flown by--maybe even centuries! It boggles the mind!




*Fortunately, I use Mary Kay's skin products for Men.  ¶ Posted by Ben @ 8:16 PM

  Oh the horror -- the Horror! I have gazed into the Abyss, and the Abyss stared back at me ... with a natural 20 Intimidate check. The sheer, mind-numbing terror as I critically failed my Will save....

The factory life of Ben the Proletariat has reached a new low. And I say that having thought my work life was already as sad as it could get. It was pretty sad. Could anything, I ask you, be more mind-numbingly boring than placing a cardboard box on a machine, pressing a button to fill the box with cartons, pushing the box on a conveyor belt leading into the belly of the Beast, picking up a cardboard box, placing it on the machine, pressing the button, pushing the box, picking up, placing, pressing, pushing, picking up, placing, pressing pushing, and on and on and on, hour after hour, until you realize that YOUR LIFE SUCKS!!! Take, for example, the film short I spent 8 hours and 22 minutes thinking about during my 12-hour shift on Sunday. It's intended to give the viewer a little taste of life in a factory.

*****
The Shit* from Hell
* (oops, I mean 'Shift')

Opening shot: The camera, with no sound, is mounted on top of the sealing machine (the preying mantis) and points slightly down. On the extreme right edge of the frame we can see a conveyor belt feeding cartons of GLAD storage bags (gallon size) into a boxy machine. On the left side of that machine is a square funnel-shaped protuberance about 1.5 feet above a second conveyor belt that leads to the bottom of the screen and off, presumably into the belly of the sealing machine. A worker stands like a zombie next to the boxy machine.

We see a man enter the screen from our right. He wears jeans, a faded blue T-shirt, yellow earplugs, and has a red ponytail. The camera zooms in for a closeup of his face: he seems relatively upbeat and energetic, and his eyes are alert. The camera zooms back out. He motions to the zombie, who shambles off screen right, then stands next to the funnel shape on the boxy machine. To his right (our left) is a large stack of unformed cardboard boxes. Behind him loom pallets filled with more unformed cardboard boxes. It is 6:59am, but as we watch the little digital numbers in the bottom left corner flip over to 7:00am. The Shift From Hell begins.

7:00am The man reaches to his right, picks up a cardboard box, forms it in one smooth motion, and places it onto the protuberance with his right hand. He presses a button on the boxy machine with his left hand. An L-shaped piece of metal that was resting on the conveyor belt below the protuberance rotates up to hold the box in place. A brief pause, and the L-piece rotates down, cradling the now-filled cardboard box. The man pushes it onto the lower conveyor belt and it moves swiftly off of the lower part of the screen. The man is picking up another piece of cardboard, forming it, and placing it on the boxy machine before the filled box disappears. As we watch, he continues these swift movements as though he had performed them thousands of times before. His head moves from side to side as he looks at activity happening around him (off-screen). A few times he gives a nod of recognition, and once he smiles briefly.

7:15am The man has filled 120 boxes so far. His movements have only deviated from his routine once, when he turned, bent, picked up a pile of cardboard boxes from the pallet behind him to restock the dwindling supply of unformed boxes next to him. The film now speeds up, to your immeasurable relief, moving at 4x speed. The next hour of work will pass in 15 minutes.

7:15-8:15am The man's routine remains the same during this section of the film. Picking up, placing, pressing, pushing. Picking up, placing, pressing, pushing. Periodically he replenishes his supply of unformed cardboard boxes.

9:00am Another worker, a man chewing gum, wearing a baseball cap, and with gloves hooked on his belt, enters from the left of the screen and makes a snapping gesture with his hands, then takes the red-headed man's place at the machine. His movements are equally economical and are performed with the same unconscious grace you noticed in the first man. The red-headed man exits screen right.

9:15am The red-head returns and the baseball-capped man departs screen left. The film speeds up again, to 10x speed this time. The next hour of work will pass in 6 minutes.

10:00am The film slows down again to normal speed and zooms in on the worker's face. We see an immediate difference from the first closeup: the man's face is slack, he has lost his animation, and his eyes are glazed over. But you see that he blinks and glances around periodically. The film speeds back up to 10x speed.

11:30am The baseball-capped man enters screen left, makes a snapping gesture with his hands, and takes the red-head's place at the machine. The red-head departs screen right. Behind the worker we see a forklift appear with new pallets of unformed boxes to replace the now-empty pallets. The baseball-capped man does not turn around, and appears completely unsurprised when he turns to replenish his cardboard box pile and is confronted with two entirely new pallets of boxes.

12:15pm The red-head appears and resumes his place at the machine. The baseball-capped man exits screen left. The red-headed worker falls immediately into his rhythm, face slack and eyes glazed.

12:21pm For the first time we see some animation in the worker's movements. The film speed slows down to normal. The worker waves wildly to someone off-screen and points to the machine over which the camera is mounted. He mouths the words "elevator jammed" and then shrugs as if to say "I didn't do anything." It becomes clear that the sealer machine is not running, as the boxes begin to stack up at the bottom of the screen. Pretty soon stationary boxes cover the lower conveyor belt and the worker begins stacking filled boxes on the ground beside him. He stacks them 6 high, and soon has seven stacks around him.

12:26pm The boxes begin disappearing at the bottom of the screen. Inbetween pushing boxes onto the lower conveyor belt and placing boxes on the machine, the worker places filled boxes from the stacks around him onto the conveyor belt. The film speeds up again to 10x speed.

1:30pm The film slows down. It seems the worker's mouth is moving and has been for some time. A few moments of watching reveal that the worker is singing or talking to himself. Closer observation enables you to catch the words "But I'm a creep ... I'm a weirdo ... What the hell am I doing here ... I don't belong here ..." The film mercifully speeds up to 10x speed.

2:30pm The baseball-capped man enters screen left and makes a snapping gesture with his hands. The red-head doesn't notice, but continues to stare straight ahead. The baseball-capped man shakes the read-head's shoulder and takes the red-head's place at the machine. The red-head blinks his eyes as though waking up, then departs screen right.

2:45pm The red-head appears and resumes his place at the machine. The baseball-capped man exits screen left. The red-headed worker falls immediately into his rhythm, face slack and eyes glazed.

3:04pm The sealing machine breaks down. The red-head stacks filled boxes around him again. The machine is quickly fixed and the worker places the boxes back on the conveyor belt.

4:12pm The forklift brings more cardboard box pallets. The film slows down and the camera zooms in on the worker's face. His face has gone beyond slack, and he no longer looks at what he is doing. His eyes are dead holes in his face. His lips move slightly, and you realize that he has continued to talk to himself this whole time. The catch the next two lines from off his lips: "You can check out any time you like ... but you can't ever leave..." The film speeds up again to 10x speed.

5:00pm The baseball-capped man enters screen left and makes a snapping gesture with his hands. The red-head doesn't notice, but continues to stare straight ahead. The baseball-capped man shakes the read-head's shoulder, then shakes him again. The red-head blinks his eyes as though waking up, then departs screen right.

5:45pm The red-head reappears, walking like a zombie. He takes his place at the machine and resumes his work. His lips have stopped moving and his eyes are half-closed. His face is perfectly stationary and he seems to be looking directly at the camera as his hands continue picking up, placing, pressing, and pushing.

6:55pm A man enters the screen from the right as the film slows down to normal speed. The man is the zombie man from earlier that morning, but this time he smiles and says something to the red-head. The red-head continues forming boxes, placing them on the boxy machine, pressing the button, and pushing the boxes onto the conveyor belt. The ex-zombie man shakes the red-head's shoulder, then turns him gently around and walks him off-screen. He comes back shaking his head, then takes his place at the machine as the digital numerals in the bottom left corner of the screen flip over to 7:00pm.

The film fades to black after approximately 1 hour and 30 minutes.
*****

Next time I'll tell you what new job duty has brought my work life even lower than THAT.

  ¶ Posted by Ben @ 12:27 PM

  I wish to share with you a few of the websites that have claimed my few waking, non-working moments this summer.  You will enjoy them.  That is, you WILL enjoy them, or else.

s*p - something positive : A bit of a misnomer, actually. But it'll make you feel more positive about YOUR life.

Konsekai: Swordwaltzer : Somewhat of a more fantasy/manga comic.  Warrior with a past must pick up his blades to avenge a crime, yada yada.

Ctrl+Alt+Del : Comics for the true gamer. I can't help but identify in so many ways with poor Ethan.

Mac Hall Comics : A strip for anyone who's ever been to college. May the memories fade swiftly and painlessly.

Spells & Whistles : A comic based on the standard pen & paper roleplaying games.

I recommend a daily dose of at least one of the above.  Of course, you're not going to forget about 8-Bit Theater now, are you?  Can't abandon the ultimate FF comic (the early Final Fantasy, that is) while there remain any memories of FF.  Alright, you have your mandate.  Commence.

  ¶ Posted by Ben @ 10:37 PM

  Hmm, three weeks since my last update.  Looks like I'm right on schedule.

I hope you realize that you gaze upon a changed man -- a better, wiser, broader man; an enlightened man.  In the last few weeks I've experienced the daily grind of the Everyman.  I've been up close and personal with the intricate operation of our juggernaut Capitalist economy.  I've seen the wizardry, heard the roar, smelt the glue of the machines....the MACHINES!  They haunt my waking hours.  A momentary slip in my mental focus and BAM! I'm lost -- back in the factory lifting boxes of Ziploc bags off of the conveyor belt and slotting them in cardboard boxes, stacking boxes on pallets, sending other boxes into the gullet of a praying-mantis-machine to be sealed, living for the next 10-minute break, surrounded all the while by the unceasing roar of ravenous machinery, hour after weary gray hour.  I have experienced the reifying process that shapes our society.  We are not human beings in this society, unique and worthwhile individuals who share and learn and laugh and love.  We are objects, cattle who work 12-hour shifts locked in silence -- for who can be heard over the machines?  And for what purpose?  In order to fabricate millions of boxes of plastic bags to be sold in our local WalMarts, to propagate consumerism, to be an "American".  Our economy, our factories, do not consume plastic and cardboard or whichever raw materials pass through the steel bellies and emerge as boxes of sandwich bags.  Oh no, our factories are fueled by our workers -- on the energy and sweat and dreams of shifts A, B, C, and D.  They consume our plans for the future, deny our time with our familes, keep us frozen in place for 12 hours each day.  The factory worker today is no better a human being than when he began his job 15 years ago: he is no wiser, no better educated, no more free.  The factory job has not improved him, has not taught him, has not uplifted him; has not given to him as he has given to the economy.  No, indeed.  In the ocean of life we see our workers treading water, trying to stay afloat while simultaneously pushing the USS Capitalism forward; as the steel ship inches forward, the workers, crushed by its weight and with no ground to stand on, slip silently into the cold, dark waters....

Ahem, where was I?  Right.  As I mentioned previously, I'm working at the GLAD plastic bag factory in Rogers.  7am-7pm, two days on, two days off, with alternating weekends.  Boy, am I looking forward to school picking up again.  I can't imagine somehow doing this for the rest of my life.  People HAVE to realize there's more to life than a paycheck.  It may help that full-timers make $14/hour rather than my temporary rate of $8/hour, but still, I can't imagine working in a factory full-time.  I come home exhausted, wake up in the morning to drive up to Rogers as the sun rises, and come out of the factory as the sun goes down.  I haven't had the desire to pick up a serious literary work since I started (although I'm going through Georgette Heyer like candy).  Hopefully I'll be able to take the week before school starts off and get some rest.

Anyway, enough about me.  Franny comes home tomorrow (YAY!!!) from Dallas, where she attended a Mary Kay seminar.  It seems to have provided her with a lot of good encouragement and motivation.  The house is a wreck, of course, but I'll wake up tomorrow morning before noon (hopefully) and give it a good cleaning.  We are, as always, learning a lot about life, love, and appropriate financial behavior -- which is good [g], as it indicates to me that we are continuing to grow [G].  Growth is good.  The formula just mentioned (G = g) is one I repeat to myself as a daily mantra.  Often.  God is, of course, very much in charge at the moment.  It's been a wonderful journey so far -- ever since Franny and I got married, we've been gripped by this feeling that something exciting is just around the corner.  God's been consistent with providing that excitement, and this summer has been no exception.  I can't believe it's only been four years; it feels like we've packed ten years of life and lessons into that time!  Anyway, enough rambling; Franny comes home tomorrow, and all will soon be right with the world.
  ¶ Posted by Ben @ 11:42 PM

  Ethan's wedding went off splendidly this last Saturday (June 26th) at Silver Lake (Pennsylvania). The whole family was there, and the weather had been ordered specially for the outdoor ceremony (sunny and warm, with a light breeze). Ethan looked dashing in his Nehru suit, Amy looked beautiful in an extremely white gown, and I didn't forget the rings (damn straight). It was a great wedding. I also bowled a 196 (close to my personal best) at the bachelor party. Turkey Central, baby.

We're now back in Fayetteville for the summer. Franny is continuing to build her Mary Kay business. I'm going to be busy working various jobs through Staffmark (construction, factory work....whatever brings in a paycheck) until school starts in August. One more year! That's exciting. I have no idea what'll happen after graduation next May -- I know there's a PhD program somewhere in my future, but I'm thinking it won't immediately follow my MA. We'll see.

I leave you with this poem from The Atlantic Online:

Gift
by Brooks Haxton
.....

All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags;
and we all do fade as a leaf —ISAIAH 64:6

After my mother's father died,
she gave me his morocco Bible.
I took it from her hand, and saw
the gold was worn away, the binding
scuffed and ragged, split below the spine,
and inside, smudges where her father's
right hand gripped the bottom corner
page by page, an old man waiting, not quite
reading the words he had known by heart
for sixty years: our parents in the garden,
naked, free from shame; the bitterness of labor;
blood in the ground, still calling for God's
curse. His thumbprints faded after the flood,
to darken again where God bids Moses smite
the rock, and then again in Psalms, in Matthew
every page. And where Paul speaks of things
God hath prepared, things promised them who wait,
things not yet entered into the loving heart,
below the margin of the verse, the paper
is translucent with the oil and dark
still with the dirt of his right hand.
  ¶ Posted by Ben @ 4:31 PM

  Mountain Dew is good. Caffeine is good. Gooood Mountain Dew. Mmmmm, caffeine....

"I have not yet begun to write!" <-- infamous (that is, more than famous) anthem of English majors the world over (and if it happens to be true, what of it? I still have....36 hours).

"Thank you, I'll be here all night!" <-- the sad truth (but even sadder: I don't get free drinks).

"Sadder"??? WTH? It can't be THAT late....
  ¶ Posted by Ben @ 9:44 PM