July 2006

A couple of things I thought I knew about me:

1.  Don’t watch much television.

2.  Don’t watch much sport at all.

3.  If sport is watched, it is not boxing, and I know less about boxing than I do about any sport save curling and perhaps darts.

Having said that, I’ve seen this series, The Contender, on ESPN at my work over and over again during the past couple of weeks.  I admit that I like it.   That I spent a couple minutes ignoring my tables today during the final round of the latest episode.  I even got all ‘advisey’ at one point and tried to tell the television how the people ought to fight.  Just like the real sports-watching people.I'm a winner.  I'm a contender.

I think it’s good entertainment.  But I did notice my violent tendencies increased after the third episode.  I officially vote that television can make people act more violent.  How long term this effect is, I don’t know. 

I just wanted to post a thingy here that says I have watched a form of sport, even though it’s been reality-show-ized, and I found enjoyment in it.

Now I’m going to put things on my wrists and pretend I’m a menace.



Every time I write a review for a Sue Grafton novel I wonder how successful she would have been had she not used the whole alphabet thing.  I mean, as far as gimmicks go, it’s a good one.  While not many people would recognize a Sharyn McCrumb novel as a part of a long series of successful mystery novels, most people who peruse book stores will see a book with a big letter on the front and say “Yeah, I’ve seen those, I’ve always wondered if they’re good.”I would have to say that for the most part, yeah.  They are good.

Ricochet is a nice, easy read in which you find yourself wanting the characters to do something or another – like when you watch a horror movie and you get into it to the point of saying things out loud, like “Don’t go in there!” or “Sharpen the chain saw or you’ll never make it through her tibia!”

I see it as a good sign.  I think that’s one of the things that makes the Harry Potter series consistant in it’s appeal.  People are dying to see the characters figure things out or do the right thing, but when they don’t the reader can’t put the book down because they’re dying to see what happens next. 

I was afraid that this book would follow the story of earlier Sue Grafton novels in delivery, content, character, and conclusion.  I was delighted to see that Grafton can and does create with variety.  It also kinda let me down, because what I like is what she has done in the past.

R is for Ricochet is the story of the same main character from the previous books, Kinsey Millhone.  Kinsey picks up a girl from jail and helps her make the adjustment to real life.  But this new girl turns out to be practically crazy in her unpredictability. 

Kinsey also picks up a love interest, but to me it detracted from the overall goodness of the book.  While never graphic, I’m still not interested in the re-kindled sexuality of a character I liked better as a single person. 

In summation, Grafton writes with great skill, but everything that wasn’t the main plot in this story kinda left me feeling flat.  I’ll have to give this book a 1 on a scale of -5 to 5.

This is what I wrote last night on the new village site at sixmilevillage.com

There’s a weekly radio show called “This American Life” which I enjoy.  The idea is that they tell stories of things that have happened (sometimes fictional) which reveal some aspect of the American Life.  Who we are, what we do, and frequently leaves us thinking “I wonder why…”   I wish I was able to convey somehow, in story form, the events of my life that you, reader, might find yourself thinking “Hmm…” every once in a while.  But I’m not that skilled. So what you get is a series of events in the life of me that end up being not quite antecdotal at best – sometimes verging on the sarcastic.

My wife is in bed, I am not.  It’s the first time we haven’t gone to bed at the same time.  I don’t know if that means anything other than I wasn’t tired.   So I write while the sleepiness creeps up on me brain like some kind of jungle foliage they had warned you about before you set out from the last village.

All tendrilly and such.

I spent 5 hours at work, 1 hour resolving financial aid problems (partially), and probably a total of 3 hours trying to render functional a program designed to let you give your phone your own ringtone.  The results of the day are 60 dollars, partially resolved financial aid problems, and non-cool ringtones.  I bring it up as one of those illustrative thingies.  I spend 5 hours making about 12 dollars per hour in cash – yet I’m unwilling to spend the 1 dollar and four bits needed to just have Mr. T. (mobile) send me the song I want over his newfangled radio waves thereby essentially saving me 3 hours of my life to use in other (perhaps more useful or meaningful) ways. 

I could say something about how I’m a better person, or overcoming trials, or growth or something; but in so doing there would be a part of me that would simultaneously pipe up with something about time as a valuable asset and how at this rate that “first million” is going to take about two million years.

Tomorrow it is my intention to watch the movie “Lady in the Water.”  for which I am excited.  It is in writing this meaningless and useless sentence that I wonder how future generations will perceive my life.  Will they read my writings looking for keys to unraveling the mystery of how to rival my successes?  And if so, will they say “I must see this film!”

Or is it that they’ll say, “Yup, another consumer lost in American history?”

To consider the question is a definite path to grimness in thought and wardrobe.

Tomorrow I will also take a major exam, submit an appeal for financial aid, clean up the place a bit, watch charlie and the chocolate factory and I’m sure there’s something else I wanted to do…

Speaking of time.

Time is an asset I have less and less of as time goes on.  By the onset of the school semester, I don’t know how I’ll ever have any time to post more than a perfunctory “Hello, I went to class today.” on the site.  Not that the site is a hugely important deal to me, but I’m just trying to illustrate how much time is lost.

Seems like I may have mentioned before about selling my time to applebees for 2.13 an hour.  I don’t know why I bring it up now, except now that every time somebody types in the word applebees in google there’s more a chance they’ll see my name in there somewhere.

That would suck.

I have had a lot on my mind lately, but the wicked weed of sleepiness defies me now, and the sneaky fog of lack-of-time obscures my plans at other times.  I keep intending to write up my talks from church, or my oral report from class, or my thoughts on my history class, or the educational system, or whatever else enters my mind.  Is this me apologizing? Yes.  To who? I have no idea.  The hits on the site took a hit, so I know it’s not to you – according to the stats you’re not even reading this.  I have no idea who even glances at sixmile any more.  Not like I had a big idea before, but yeah.

Now I go to sit in the dark to try and relax my brains.

Greg Hamblin