Rugby Union

. . . which is apparently different than rugby league. Rules are different, or somesuch. I'm trying to educate myself via Wikipedia articles. It's tricky reading. I don't understand even the most basic terminology. For example: what the devil is a scrum, and why is it awarded? What does such an awarding do? Does it count for a point value? Scrum is used like, every other sentence!

ANYWAY, I've officially committed to the rugby union team! Even better, one of the already-established players gave me some idea of what the coaches will try to craft me into (she said I couldn't count on ending up there, but that they'd at least try). It's a position called scrum half, and is apparently the domain of those players of, shall we say, diminuitive stature (she started our conversation by asking how tall I was, okay?). The girl I was talking to, who is either barely taller or barely shorter than I am, is currently the team's only scrum half due to graduation losses of the other two.

According to my intensive research, scrum half is something like the rugby equivalent of center mid in soccer, or maybe halfback. With the former, I at least understand the gist of the cruciality of the position--must read the field, have endurance, and be able to sprint when necessary--and I played the latter position for nearly all my years in soccer (so I have more than the gist of what is expected in that area). Of course, this means I should work sprint workouts into by conditioning routine, which I was already expecting to include endurance. I learned something new, though. In rugby tournaments, you can only make a limited number of substitutions: i.e. seven. That means that at least eight of the players on the field will play for the entire 80 minutes of game time. So endurance is required of EVERYBODY.

Duct Tape and Epoxy Glue

I thought about posting my narrative about Blue Thunder's adventure and following surgery today, but it turned out a little long for a blog post and is more of me making fun of myself than anything else. So I'll summarize.

Today, my dad and I superglued bits of my car together.

It's a bit called the pigtail that plugs into the alternator. It's not easy to get a new one without buying a new electrical harness and cutting it up, which isn't exactly a cheap way of going about things. So we opted for the next best thing, which was gluing the plug into the alternator.

And we didn't use super glue. After we duct taped the pigtail long enough to get home, we pulled out the epoxy glue. It's some super strong stuff that is a mix of epoxy resin and an unpronounceable chemical. Armed with toothpicks coated with the stuff, we shoved the pigtail into place and gave it a nice thick layer of five-minute epoxy.

Blue Thunder's holding up fine, now. ^_^

Hallowe'en...Late

Traditionally, my writing club has a Hallowe'en party (not Halloween; the hostess is very clear on that). It's always been a murder mystery, like a How to Host a Murder gig, but with a few differences. Difference one would be that this isn't only one murder: the murderer continues to kill people as they see fit throughout the night. Difference two is that the plot line is written by the hostess and a few others every year.

I helped this year.

Of course, since everyone's away at college now, we postponed it a month so we could get everybody. It took place Friday night.

It was very interesting to be on the planning side of things. I've been the murderer before, and I got killed about halfway through the party last year, but I've never had to worry much about the plot line beyond my desire to solve any mystery. This year I was a fortune-telling gypsy, which also gave me the ability to randomly give people direction if they were going too far in the wrong direction.

But it also required a great deal of improvisation on my part. To begin, we started the night's "entertainments" with me telling each character's fortune. I was not expecting that. I thought I would randomly grab people and spurt mystic nonesense, but then, there I was sitting at a round table with an audience of fourteen people. An hour before the party, I had spent five minutes reading up on palmistry on Wikipedia. I couldn't even remember which line was which, beyond the life line. So to supplement my lack, I added a twist. I had a red velvet bag of shiny polished rocks, and I had each person draw out a rock as I was going along. Thus did I invent a great deal of minerology that somehow had to do with the future. I also tried to spice up each fortune by changing how I behaved toward the people.

My success: at least people were laughing.

The second hitch I ran into that night was the fact that I was the first person to be killed off (that wasn't part of the original plan, but we had to do some last-minute adjusting). This normally wouldn't be a problem: ghosts are allowed to interact with everybody, and their motives and all extend beyond death, but they aren't allowed to discuss who exactly murdered them. The problem was my handicap. Ghosts at the party always have a handicap: blindfolding, not using one of their hands, speaking in a whisper, etc. However, since my character had, up to the point of my death, been quite cheeky and altogether too loud-mouthed (I was a gypsy with no respect for authority), I was given the handicap that I could only speak when asked a direct question, and only to answer that question.

Try keeping everyone on the right track when you can't talk unless they want you to.

In the end, my most effective method involved grabbing people's wrists and staring at their palms until they asked me what I wanted to say. Some people tried to get away, though, so I had to employ a rather firm grip. When I couldn't grab people, I had to gesture like a madwoman and caper about endlessly. I can't tell you how many times my facial expressions were misinterpreted because they lacked commentary.

But all in all, it was a very interesting experience, and luckily the plot worked out well enough. And me and my friend have so many ideas on how to make it even better next year!

Dreamweaver

Today I learned an itty-bitty bit about how to make a webpage using Adobe Dreamweaver (I have a handout entitled "How to weave the website of your dreams," but only because the Inscape advisor has a sense of humor). I learned the basics of inserting text, and I know how to fiddle my way through modifying tags for text, background, and other simple stuff like that. The biggest stumbling block I've found is that I don't speak abbreviation. I know how to fiddle with tags, provided I know what the darn tag is. When there are fifteen three-letter-or-less abbreviations starting with A, that isn't a good sign for the uninitiated.

But I'm sure I'll get better. Even if I'm not on the web staff this semester, next semester is completely web, so I'll have to learn fast.

I Lost My Mind on Page 4

Editing does funny, funny things to my thought process. And to my control of my mouth. And to the way I read things, especially to how I read them aloud. Most recently, I've been trying to catch up on the first chapters of the revision of two friends' science fiction novel. It's much better than it was before, but certin issues have carried over from the original. Namely, cliched descriptions of pain and awareness, and a tendency to avoid the word "said" as if it were...well, something very, very smelly.

But the newest development is the most inventive use of semi-colons I have ever seen in my life. It blows my mind. Sometimes, I can spend at least five minutes trying to understand why a semi-colon is present in a sentence. Only to give up with no more enlightenment than I started. I'm trying to figure out if it's my fault or not. During the first draft, I advocated comma rights and tried to get them to back off on the run-on sentences. One of my suggestions was the use of semi-colons. I don't know if this phenomenon is due to that or due to the fact that one of them caught semi-colon fever and infected the other with it as well. Worst part is, I don't even know how to address the problem, because I don't understand their logic in many of the uses.

0.0 I don't know.