A few weeks ago, I was trying to pin down what I don’t like about Cary. I know some of it is feeling like Cary is an extended blank verso between the close of our Beijing adventure and the beginning of the next chapter. I’ve been trying to put into words exactly what it is I’m not getting from perfectly nice complexes of shops with manicured grass in the lane dividers, or from perfectly nice houses on branching cul-de-cacs.
What I meant to say was, I wanted this.
I’m playing and reviewing THQ’s My Boyfriend DS game right now, which was funny before I even opened the game. Stick’s asked me if I like My Boyfriend, if I’m glad I got My Boyfriend, if I’m going to write about how great My Boyfriend is, and so forth. (He gets like this sometimes.) It’s been nonstop since I got the game.
“Wow, this is an awful cover design.” I said.
“Are you saying My Boyfriend is ugly?” Stick asked. “Don’t be shallow, Meg, you should only care about what’s inside.”
I try to ignore him, but he keeps going.
“Did you rent this?” he asks.
“You know I didn’t.”
“Good, I didn’t want to hear that you checked out My Boyfriend.”
Optimist Club Originally uploaded by Simpson’s Paradox
This proves my theory that the people I hear talking about how great it is to live in the south and avoid winter, or how convenient everything is to the beltway are all secretly in league with each other.
So, I’ve been working on some other projects, and now I’m going to recycle snips of those articles into a blog post, I mean, share what I’ve been working on!
First, I recently reviewed the new Nintendo DS game Women’s Murder Club: Games of Passion on ThumbGods:
WMC follows the usual pattern of story cutscenes, hidden objects and minigames. The hidden objects casual adventure game is a pretty crowded genre, so it’s hard for a new game to really stand out. Probably the most unique characteristic was the James Patterson characters. Players solve crimes and meet with the WMC ladies as Patterson’s detective Lindsay Boxer, and supporting characters with solid personalities made this more that just a reskinned HO game.
The story progresses via cutscenes and dialogue options. Players have some choices for what to say, but it was more of a quiz on recent plot events. Believable banter makes the cutscenes worth reading, and the linear storyline makes it feel like reading a novel, not being hemmed
Random side note: The mysterious Chinese markings found on the victim actually do say bu zhong, Not Loyal. My Chinese literacy is just good enough to be completely thrilled with the developers for using real words when dramatic red scribbles would have acceptable. (It always cracks me up when I see upside-down characters or random other words.) Good work, THQ.
Via Thumb Gods » Game Review: Women’s Murder Club
I know I’m supposed to be all blase about it, but that’s a photo of my review copy of WMC. It’s a hard copy with a press letter and everything. I’m going to keep it it on the shelf next to my other review copy, just as soon as I finish doing my I’m-a-real-journalist happy dance.
I also reviewed the Screaming Narwhal:
Telltale’s new Monkey Island is not to be confused with the LucasArts updated re-release. No, the Screaming Narwhal is an all-new tale in the saga of Guybrush Threepwood, mighty pirate. Elaine and LeChuck (and at least one other familiar character!) are back as well, revamped from their grainy 2d incarnations, but following the spirit of the originals.
Goofy dialogue, creative uses for found items and pirate-y silliness are the hallmarks of the Monkey Island games, and the Screaming Narwhal has them all. Guybrush uses his razor-sharp wits to deal with the wacky denizens of Flotsam Island, whether that’s a clever ruse of selling fine leather jacket, an amazing use of misdirection (Look! It’s Louis XIV!) or coming up with a believable excuse on the spot. The dialogue is not a memory test of in-game facts, but a chance for zany interactions.
Via Thumb Gods » Tales of Monkey Island: Launch of the Screaming Narwhal
And over on TechCoquette, I have a new piece about beginning a relationship on Facebook:
The awkward conversation in which you ask the one you’re seeing if the two of you are in a relationship isn’t new, but Facebook adds a new dimension. Are we in a relationship … on our Facebook profiles?
If you’re taking your new relationship Facebook-public, congrats! That little in a relationship with link is our generation’s class ring or football jacket, a public announcement that what you’ve got going on is more than just a couple of dates. It says you’re exclusive, and it also means no more of those awkward “my, um, friend” introductions.
Via Being “In a Relationship” on Facebook | TechCoquette
And I have another article on TechCoquette about ending a relationship and defriending the ex on Facebook.
If you actually meant that line about still being friends, Facebook defriending may help you create the space you need to become comfortable on your new footing. You may refriend him the future, when time has passed and you’re both ready to reconnect; but until then, you don’t have to be reminded of him whenever you see his status updates. Also, you won’t have to read sickly-sweet wall chatter between him and his new girl, and you won’t be reminded when he goes back to your favorite brunch spot. Even after a mutual decision to split, reading a feed of your ex’s daily life and thoughts can be unpleasant.
Via Let’s Not Be Friends: Facebook Ex Etiquette | TechCoquette
This last one is significant because it’s one of the rare times I’ve titled one of my own articles and been really happy with the title. Let’s Not Be Friends. Clever, huh? And much better than my usual lame titles like What I’ve Been Working On.
I always leave happy and mellow, so I guess it’s a step up from my previous workout routine, but somehow yoga isn’t instantly making me thin and fit. Don’t know why. I think I’ll have a cupcake and try to figure that out.
I told Hal Jordan that maybe this isn’t the best way to maintain a secret identity, but he didn’t listen to me.
Halloween is coming, which means our local grocery store has put out bulk candy and decorated for the holiday. I’d usually focus on the M&Ms, but the severed head hanging over the candy bags got me thinking.
It seemed, suddenly, like less of a surprising decor choice and more of a tangible symbol of excess, the constant bombardment of stuff. We don’t just consume Halloween candy, disposable naughty-cat costumes and window-cling ghosts, but we need a plastic severed head hanging from the ceiling to remind us that it’s time to buy those things.
Thinking about the layers of stuff reminds me that even my heavy-handed symbolism doesn’t exist in a vacuum. I didn’t look too closely (because, um… I did mention that it’s a plastic severed head, right?), but it seems to be injection molded plastic, which means someone designed the mold, and the paint. Do you think it went like this: Today, I have made my mark on the world, I designed a mold for plastic severed heads, and these heads will outlast me. Or maybe all those new hires in design are incompetent, so I got stuck redesigning the neck wounds. College kids come in and think they know everything, but it takes years in the field to really get that look of severed spine. Do you think, after that, someone else worked out that they could save 84 cents per dozen by making the plastic just a tiny bit thinner? And someone mixed a paint palette of dead-flesh colors.
A factory probably bid on a contract for plastic severed heads, and lost. Honey, I was thinking of going to Bali for our anniversary, but we lost the severed heads contract, so that’ll have to wait for next year. Maybe someone else was rejoicing over their new severed-heads prosperity.
Was it made, like everything else, overseas? Eric once had a job working for a packing and shipping company, I wonder if he designed any cartons for the most efficient shipping of plastic severed body parts. If it was made in China, I’m starting to understand the pointing and staring thing. I mean, I come from the land of mass-produced plastic severed heads, who wouldn’t stare?
And the head in a chain store, which makes me wonder if there’s a Halloween seasonal plan-o-gram with the placement of the severed head marked out on a photocopied sheet. Is there a variation for other floorplans? Does a larger store get a tier-two plan-o-gram with a second plastic severed head? Does an employee get scolded by home office for misplacing or incorrectly hanging the severed head? And do you think it’ll go into a box in someone’s office next month, to make room for Santa Claus?
I hope in the far distant future, when archeologists are looking at the ruins of our cities, that the plastic severed head is an artifact uncovered for the American civilization.
Reading poetry with teenagers can be such a random encounter, sometimes there’s a blank stare and complaints that no one really talks like that, sometimes they vibrate with the shock that someone from a dusty old century ever wrote a sexy poem. This week, we read and discussed Nothing Gold Can Stay. With its themes of youth and opportunity, it’s a bit of a cliche with high-schoolers, but it’s become a cliche because it’s so appropriate.
After reading the poem, I asked for reactions. The kids began to agree and disagree with the poem, some said that Frost must be wrong, this isn’t the high point of their lives, that they’re spending their golden youth shuttling between chemistry tutors and violin lessons, and even their Saturday mornings in an SAT English class, in the hopes of getting into a good college and finding a good job. Today must be spent in preparation for tomorrow. Others responded that the future holds years in cubicles doing the same thing every day, and this is their one chance to be independent and unique. Responsibility versus enjoyment now.
I had seventeen teenagers actually raising their hands to talk about how the poem relates to their lives and our own mortality. It was the kind of moment you envision when you think about becoming an English teacher… not the hours of your life sucked into departmental meetings, sitting in a hard folding chair and looking at slides of new accountability procedures. (And when I used the second person there, I really meant the first.) It was amazing.
I was packing up to leave, just glowing over their reaction essays and the way they’d tied the poem to their lives, when a member of the program’s administration came in.
It was pointed out to me that one of my students had torn his reaction out of a spiral notebook, and there were a few tabs of notebook paper on the classroom carpet. I was not to leave my classroom in such a state again, and my lack of professionalism had been duly noted by the authorities.
So Eden sank.
Look, another post where I hold up something to which I’ve contributed to in a tiny way!
My Craftsman Farms blog and I are mentioned in this business communications textbook! I’m on page 5, so this will be covered early enough in the semester that everyone will be on top of their reading assignments!
When I got this book… oh, who exactly am I kidding here? When I was doing my happy dance around the apartment and pointing this out to Stick over and over, I wondered why the book didn’t include any links to these social media projects. Yes, I forgot that paper doesn’t have hyperlinks. I should really consider getting out more.
The paragraph isn’t entirely clear on this, but I’m in Cary, NC, not the Stickley Museum.
Related:
I came across this book when I was home in New Jersey cleaning out my old room. (Yeah, my mom said something about how I haven’t lived there in ten years and she’d really like a guest room and that piles of paperbacks are not her ideal way to decorate that guest room.) It’s a collection of scripts for short plays, set in all different countries, and I think I read it about a thousand times, not to mention putting on most of the plays with kids in my neighborhood.
Are you surprised that I liked the Chinese story best? The story about a wise old Chinese man and his sons and daughters-in-law is probably about as Chinese as a kung fu movie, but this is one of the stories that first sparked my interest in China. China just seemed so exotic and romantic.
(Is it just me, or does it look like her lantern says “wen“? 文? But I think it’s supposed to say woman not language.)
I was sad when I got to China and found that instead of names like Spring Blossom and Precious Jade and so forth, girls all called each other Sis.
Also no one walked around in layered silk gowns and Manchu hairpieces. Another disappointment.
But on the plus side, no on ever sent me out to find wind and fire wrapped in paper before I could come home again.
My Flickr set of more photos from this book.
I came across this one in my room as well, which is doubly hilarious. First, it is unbelievably amusing to me that I was interested in authentic Chinese food pre-China, and then when I got to China, I spent months trying to hide my look of disgust and politely insist I was already full.
Second, because the bag of rice is clearly labeled “Beijing” in Chinese.
