Another warning on the falsity of stereotypes.

Went to a skating rink this weekend with my classmate from Hubei. She fell down three times in the course of . . . I dunno, an hour and a half maybe. Rental quad skates, nothing special or particularly maneuverable. She's skated before, says she did it all the time back home, so it's not like she was just learning. By the end of the skate she was flushed in the face and sweating from the exertion, but happy. I wasn't nearly as affected, but I had my own skates on (K2 makes some lovely in-line models; mine are about two years old). I just had to shake my head a bit and remind myself that in a mixed pair the American is not always the less athletic of the two. Neither is the Caucasian necessarily the less nimble one, as I had fewer near misses and was a good deal better at navigating the crowds. It all comes down to experience, training, and aptitude - plus superiority of equipment doesn't hurt. It's a little bit odd for me because I haven't thought of myself as athletically more capable than anyone in a long time; even in high school sports, my forte was endurance, not speed or agility or anything like that. I nearly threw up my kidneys after coming in second over the 1600 meter run sophomore year of high school, although that had more to do with coming very close to breaking the seven-minute mark for the first time than anything else. I haven't been The Faster One or The Stronger One or The More Graceful One or The More Experienced One in matters of any kind of physical sport since grade school, and having it suddenly come up like this is very startling.

Of course, given the treacherous nature of my brain, I promptly had a character who emerged a few months ago crop up again and request a venue. I haven't got any place to play him, so for now I'm banging out a little bit of a story that'll likely never see the light of day, but the important part is something like this:

Ken's hands tightened into proper fists. "Yeah?" he said. "Watch me." He reached up and ripped his glasses from his face in a single smooth motion, tossing them carelessly towards the HVAC.silver-painted roof beneath his feet. A swift turn to the edge, a shift of his weight-
WHOCK! The other man slammed into him like the weight of an angry ocean. His knees didn't even bother to buckle - one minute they were tensed to jump, and the next they were bent double, kinked up under him by the force of the impact. He felt the CRACK of impact a second before he heard the flash of light, and there was the brief and shining thought that he'd finally done it. . .
Then the world swam back into view, complete with the scowling, disgruntled face of Wayne Zhuang. "Jesus fuck," muttered the man. "You stupid, goddamned prick-"
"How did you move that fast?" gasped Ken. "I didn't even see you!"
Wayne shrugged, and started patting down his pockets. "Practice," he said dryly.
"Martial arts?" asked Ken.
Wayne glared at him, digging a pack of unhappy-looking cigarettes out of his pocket. He didn't bother to answer until he'd persuaded one to light and gotten a good draw off it. "Bomb squad. Now get up and get your goddamn glasses. Try that again and I swear to God I'll let you fucking do it."

Oi, utsuri?

I nearly forgot. I mailed you your movie yesterday. I don't think it looks too much like an anthrax package, so it should get there okay, but I had to use an envelope twice the necessary size. It got folded double and taped shut, so if the envelope is a little mangled where the tape gave way, don't be surprised.

Mrph. Staff meeting this morning. Last class of my master's degree this afternoon. What comes next? Trying to find a place to live, I guess... as much as I want to work somewhere that pays better, I need to keep a job in service somehow. I've worked for corporations, and they tend to give me the creeps; it's awfully easy to become the Forgotten Employee if you just give it a little bit of setup effort. I've worked for small companies - five to twenty people. They're not too bad. But I'd feel better about myself and my life if I were to stay in service work, be it Red Cross or government service. Thing is, I'm planning on going to Alaska in September... I can't really look for a new job unless it starts after that. What employer would be fool enough to hire me and let me go on vacation within a few months? Not gonna happen. I'll settle for finding an apartment and a roommate, and looking for a new job after that. Although I may well submit my resume to the Feds online, I understand it takes them forever to get around to reviewing sometimes...

That disturbance you feel in the Force is the sound of thirty-two high school classmates crying out in terror, then being silenced, as they learn that there is a real possibility the person voted Most Likely To Be Kidnapped By Aliens might wind up working for Uncle Sam - ahead of the person who carried pictures of Richard Nixon in her wallet and planned to run for President as soon as she turned 35.

Yes, I was voted Most Likely To Be Kidnapped By Aliens. In eighth grade rather than high school - we didn't do the Most Likely stuff at my high school - but still. And this was in 1988, before X-Files made it cool.

Um. Hi.

Looks like I've got some new people who've added me to their friends list recently. Just wanted to take a moment and say 'hi' to all of you. I'm honoured, but I'm also awfully stupid at times, so... if I'm supposed to know you, let me know, okay? If not, no problem. But if I am, remind me.

Great! Thanks.

Stupid the Bird

Two weeks ago I thought the robin that kept tapping at my window - okay, flying at it - was a sign that I was getting too morbidly involved in thinking about world politics and the daily news. The bird kept trying to do the same thing and it inevitably ended in frustration. *thunk!*

A week ago I thought the robin that kept flying at my window *thunk!* was trying to build a nest in the inch-wide overhang *thunk!* above the windowglass.

This week *thunk!* I think the bird *thunk!* is just STUPID. It's *thunk!* the same damn robin, *thunk!* it's been trying ALL *thunk!* DAY, it's tried other windows at other angles *thunk!* from the sun, and not one other bird has made this *thunk!* attempt.

I'm going to buy a hawk silhouette for my window. I love *thunk!* having birds in the tree next to the window, but *thunk!* that robin's beak is starting to look outright bruised. Sooner or later it will end poorly if I don't do *thunk!* something.

More quizcrap:

( Where do I go in Dante's Inferno? No, seriously. )