Tag: writing

LOG-012: A RADIO STATION AT THE EDGE OF SPACE

Traveler Leave a comment

RADIO STATION – On the edge of an abyss a radio station floats above its plunging depths, rocking gently with the sway of invisible waves. It periodically broadcasts:

“This is Station Merlin in Sector Gamma-Four with information Whiskey. Time…”

 

THE PILOT’S CABIN – The voice filters through the holes of your ears, rousing you from a dreamless sleep.

 

MIDNIGHT SUN – Or was it so dreamless? Something teases at the edges of your subconscious. A flickering lamp, tongues of firelight… 

 

AUTHORITY – Focus. These whimsies have no place in the land of the living.

 

YOU – Shake off the thought.

 

RADIO STATION – The audio briefly strengthens: “…in use Two-Two Center. Transition level…” 

 

MIDNIGHT SUN – The only beat pulsing within light-years of your craft.

 

ENCYCLOPEDIA – Radio stations such as this one serve as crucial waypoints for interstellar navigators out in the far-flung reaches of deep space. Both a lighthouse and an information service hub, it is one of many in the vast constellation of the Trans Galactic Radio Network.

 

ENDURANCE – You attempt to sit up, but a wave of lightheadedness washes over you. Visual snow. A numbness tingles in your extremities.

 

PAIN THRESHOLD – This is nothing.

 

YOU – Brace yourself against the wall and ride it out.

 

THE PILOT’S CABIN – Your sight clears. A thin thermal blanket is folded away in its cubby. A book lies on the floor below your cot, pages splayed and spine sticking up. 

 

REFLEXION – The book is right underneath where one of your arms was hanging over the cot’s edge. You must have fallen asleep while reading. 

 

YOU – Pick up the book.

 

THE GOLDEN AGE OF INTERSTELLAR EXPLORATION, A HISTORY – It’s titled “The Golden Age of Interstellar Exploration, A History.” The cover features an artistic render of a Space Bridge on the surface of some exoplanet, a set of complex arches backlit by an imploding supernova. A tiny figure stands alone before the gilded architecture with one fist raised.

 

CONCEPTUALIZATION – It’s certainly eye-catching (or excessively gaudy, depending on who you ask) for a history book.

 

RHETORIC – Not to mention the scientific inaccuracies that you itch to point out.

 

DRAMA – And pray tell, to whom, my liege? There is only an audience of three: me, myself, and I.

 

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) – The cover art is faded and the corners are worn. The author’s name is barely discernible. A strip of yellowing tape runs down the book spine. There’s something small sticking out between the pages.

 

REFLEXION – This book is well-loved, albeit old. Chronic radiation exposure and handling has dulled its colors.

 

YOU – Flip the book open.

 

THE GOLDEN AGE OF INTERSTELLAR EXPLORATION, A HISTORY – The introduction reads: “For centuries after the Space Race, interstellar travel to any extrasolar systems remained a distant fantasy. Travel and information were hard-limited by the speed of light. As conditions worsened on Earth, there was no more time for dreams. Humanity lost interest and space programs fell by the wayside in favor of tackling problems on the ground.”

 

ENCYCLOPEDIA – Until the discovery of an anomaly at the edge of the Solar System, just beyond the shadow of Pluto. 

 

PERCEPTION – Something unperceivable, only describable by the lack of it.

 

LOGIC – A scientifically inexplicable phenomenon.

 

MIDNIGHT SUN – A hole in the fabric of reality.

 

L’APPEL DU VIDE – The abyss.

 

THE GOLDEN AGE OF INTERSTELLAR EXPLORATION, A HISTORY – “…some saw it as a warning, others, a blessing. Love it, fear it, or hate it, the *manifold* undeniably reignited space interest and within a decade, numerous space probes were sent off to explore the unknown. It was a cosmic black box, but stray transmissions would leak from a localized region, enabling researchers to triangulate an approximate volume of space where the phenomenon existed.”

“The first probe to successfully cross the boundary— and return— captured images that would shake the foundations of scientific knowledge.” The words are familiar. Charming.

 

RHETORIC – Charmingly *passé*, you mean. An overreliance on pathos and quixotic visions. The author’s attempts to harness the zeitgeist of the golden age with little basis in scientific accuracy is dubious at best as an accurate portrayal of historical events.

 

EMPATHY – All the same, you once loved this book.

 

RADIO STATION –  A burst of static jolts you from your reverie. The staticky buzz is louder than before, sounding like a land-line left off the hook. 

 

PERCEPTION (HEARING) – There’s an odd pause in the automated broadcast. 

 

LOGIC – It’s not the usual end of a message.

 

RADIO STATION – “Sometimes I close my eyes…” The voice sounds the same as the automated announcer, but it’s unmistakably human, thick with emotion. 

 

EMPATHY – You can’t interpret the voice’s feeling, tinny and distorted through the static. You can only tell that it’s undeniable *human,* raw in cadence.

 

RADIO STATION – “…and for a moment, I’m back on Earth with you.” 

 

REACTION SPEED – Wait. This must be the station operator. Did he hijack the broadcast?

 

RADIO STATION – “I could feel the sunshine and taste the grainy sweetness of cornbread. It was the World Faire of ’82…” He stops. 

 

ENCYCLOPEDIA – The World Faire of ’82 was held in the Republic of Americas, over a century ago.

 

RADIO STATION – There’s a crackle of a sigh. “Except I don’t think we attended. We couldn’t afford the tickets.”

“Things have been getting weird lately. Maybe it’s just me, but…”

 

GLOAMING – A frisson of fear skips down your spine.

 

RADIO STATION – “Once, I woke up on Pluto, watching as Wakefield first stepped through the Bridge. The cameras, the rovers…” He sounds breathless. 

 

PERCEPTION (HEARING) – You have to strain to hear his next words.

 

RADIO STATION – “I was alive.”

 

MIDNIGHT SUN – Now, he is no longer alive.

 

RHETORIC – It is impossible for this person to have lived through both events. Something doesn’t line up.

 

APHELION – Memory is a fickle thing. There are many possible, *normal* explanations for this phenomenon.

 

LOGIC – A prolonged lack of human contact, for one. 

 

ENCYCLOPEDIA – Studies have shown that chronic social isolation increases a person’s risk of premature death and numerous mental illnesses. A lack of physiological and psychological stimulation contributes to the risk.

 

CONCEPTUALIZATION – What better way to escape than dreaming of the past?

 

YOU – Keep listening.

 

RADIO STATION – The operator sounds like he’s moving away from the receiver. “I figured… they never solved faster-than-light communication… wouldn’t have mattered except…”

 

REFLEXION – This station sits at the edge of a massive black hole.

 

ENCYCLOPEDIA – The time-space dilation of a gravity well of this magnitude would mean that a minute on the edge is equivalent to seven years on Earth.

 

DRAMA – Time is a social construct.

 

MIDNIGHT SUN – An unstoppable hand that extracts a toll from all of us, sooner or later.

 

YOU – Keep listening.

 

RADIO STATION – “I wish I could remember what you looked like when you got on that train.”

The static hiccups. There’s another long pause.

Faintly, as if from underwater: “What I wouldn’t give for a cup of real coffee.”

The transmission’s keen fizzles out just as abruptly as it started.

 

YOU – Lean in.

 

RADIO STATION – Nothing. Only waves of static from some distant shore.

 

MIDNIGHT SUN – A ghost trapped in circuitry, bouncing from electron to electron, rocketing out into a vast dark.  Just another mote of dust in the cosmic haystack. A memory repeating itself over and over and over… 

 

GLOAMING – The thermostat in your cabin has not fluctuated, yet a cold seeps underneath your skin. Gooseflesh prickles.

 

YOU – How much time has passed?

 

LOGIC – For the station—

 

GLOAMING – The operator huddles underneath an oversized coat, slumped over the dashboard. The coat engulfs his scrawny torso, a hatchling sheltered under its mother’s wing. 

 

LOGIC – Based on the timestamp of the last automated broadcast—

 

GLOAMING – The body has barely even cooled.

 

LOGIC – Ten minutes.

 

 

THE FOURTH WALL – Hello! Lately I’ve been inspired by various media and their ways of storytelling. As a result, the blog’s taking a somewhat different direction this semester, but the stories belong in the same overarching universe.

The Kingdom of Tokavsk, Session 0: Entrance

Alias Leave a comment

You’ve traveled for days in the back of a cart, huddled under layers of furs and blankets.  Driving wind blows above you and through you in hollow howls, tugging eddies of snowflakes into your tearing eyes.  Your fingers are numb, though they’re wrapped in layers to prevent the flesh from freezing, and your satchel is stiff with ice.  Before you, a warmly clad man clutches the reigns of a grizzly.  You’ve never been to this part of the world, so you’ve only heard stories of the people who have tamed the great beasts of the north, and before you were half-certain they were hearsay.  But the land of permanent frost is as real as the skin on your bones.

Welcome to the Kingdom of Tokavsk, a boreal nation situated on the continent of Helya.  Beyond the snow-covered plains and dense forests lies a land of wild cold and beacons of heat, scheming nobles and superstition.  It is a land of eternal winter, of wild beasts and mystical ruins.  It is a land of tenacity and death.

What secrets will you find within this place, adventurer?  Will it be a journey of opportunity, or are you fated to meet a grisly end?

 

Hello!  Alias here.  I’m taking my blog in a different direction this time around.  I’ve been on a fantasy streak lately, so I am using this blog as an opportunity to create a new world.  My current plan is to start with an overview of the kingdom and its distinguishing features, then go from there.  Being the lover of character creation that I am, I may also write a few vignettes and character profiles.  This blog will likely have a lot less comedy than my posts from last year, but rest assured I am still the same complete dork with a weird sense of humor.  I simply have varying interests when it comes to writing and tend to flit between various subjects.  (That being said, I plan to stick with this blog topic for the duration of the year.)

Fire up, and Go Blue!

Alias

Art Biz with Liz: A Final Semester and Farewell

Elizabeth S Leave a comment

I received the email from Joe on April 7th: “Wednesday, May 4th will be the official LAST DAY to post your column!”

No biggie, I thought at the time. May 4th was still nearly a month away. I had multiple weeks to write more posts about the arts before I graduated and went on my merry way. But life grew too busy. Finals season began at that same time future plans were being made, and there was no time to catch my breath before the series of graduation ceremonies hit. Before I knew it, I landed here, on May 4th, to say my goodbye to arts, ink. and a huge part of my life at Michigan.

I have a million things to say and one post to articulate them. Part of me isn’t ready to post this piece, either, because it’s the last one. The very end. When I told people about my writing endeavors here at the university, I used to refer to my writings with arts, ink. as “silly little blog posts about art,” which were in stark contrast to the seriousness of academic writing or my other work at the Michigan Daily and in literary magazines. But in a way, as discussed in a previous post, my work at arts, ink. has also been a time capsule. I didn’t always dedicate the amount of time and energy to them as I wish I had, but it’s neat to have been able to churn out weekly writings across the span of four school years. Looking back, it’s also been nice to become involved with the arts in numerous ways. I’ll spare you from the extensive trip down memory lane, but I’ll close out with some of the artistic feats I’ve been involved with this past semester.

Part I: Writing

I’ve always loved to write, but as time went on, I found it increasingly difficult to make myself sit down and write on my own accord. The University of Michigan has been a blessing in its plethora of opportunities in this sense, but as a creative writing & literature major, I found myself lacking in experience compared to my peers. I used to think it was a blessing to be “well-rounded” in interests and pursuits, but this proved to be challenging once I had to pick a major (and thus limit myself in what I learned from that point on). I can say, however, that as much as I’ve had doubts about my majors, my abilities, and myself throughout college, I’m proud of the work I’ve created in regard to my two senior honors theses, which earned high honors and highest honors.

If you’ve been reading my posts throughout the past year, you may have noticed my (potentially annoying) mentioning of my honors theses. This was never meant to be a brag or complaint but rather commentary on something that took up much of my time and focus the past year and a half. People often told me I was crazy for writing two theses (one for each of my majors), but doing so seemed like the natural culmination of my studies and time at U-M. They allowed me to challenge myself while narrowing in on specific subjects of interest. For my creative writing & literature major, specifically, I wanted to challenge myself in writing a longer piece of work. The disciplined yet supportive structure of writing an honors thesis allowed me to do so, and I ended up with a longer novella at 135 pages.

Since these posts are all about the arts, I’ll focus on my creative writing thesis. When I think about the sort of person I wanted to connect to my writing, why the story is important, and what I hoped people would get out of it, there are several things that came to mind. My novella is a coming-of-age story centered on complicated family dynamics, but it also speaks to culture and identity. The main character, Christi, is a mixed Chinese-Filipino American whose father is white and mother is an immigrant from the Philippines, which resembles my situation. Growing up, I loved the young adult genre, but I didn’t find many stories that included the main character with an identity like mine. There are many layers to being a mixed Asian American, and when Christi visits her mother’s homeland, she is challenged with all sorts of inner turmoil surrounding identity and culture that accompany the central storyline. Christi’s perspective when she visits the Philippines is often ignorant yet candid. The teenage viewpoint offers an interesting means to express culture shock and family conflict. Overall, I didn’t want to write a story simply for representation, but I am hoping that setting the story in the Philippines yet from the point of view of a young American can engage readers with a different place/culture in a way that’s accessible and relatable.

As previously mentioned, I’m interested in a variety of subjects, which is great in granting me different lenses, perspectives, and experiences to inform my writing. I’ll admit, however, that being stretched out across different academic disciplines means I don’t practice writing nearly as much as I should or as many of my peers do. I’ve struggled with writer’s block and self-discipline in the past, so it was interesting to approach a project with such high expectations for myself despite a limited timeframe. I consistently produced 5-10 pages of new content each week for a semester and a half, which I’ve never been able to do before. There was a lot of crappy writing, and much of it ended up being cut, but simply getting content on the page was the first step toward getting a whole draft together. In the past, I would always get bogged down with edits, whereas with my thesis I didn’t really have that option if I wanted to finish it in time. That would be my advice to others wanting to write a novella/novel – write! You can get trapped by constantly editing/revising, but you can always do that after you have more content to work on. There’s still a lot of work to be done on it, but it would be amazing if I could revise my thesis and turn it into a novel one day. Books have always served as an escape for me, and I hope that one day, my writing can have a positive impact on someone else.

Part II: Music

On the morning of April 30th, I strolled past the hoard of graduates lined up outside the Big House until I reached the designated “Glee Club Check-In” sign. Once inside Michigan Stadium, a select number of members from the Men’s and Women’s Glee Clubs stood in the center of the field on a circular stage. Underneath a cloudy sky, our fingertips numbed in the cold as we waited for the agonizing ten minutes to pass before the opening procession and cue to sing occurred. As dreary as the atmosphere seemed, however, I’d do anything to go back in time to experience what came next.

Graduating was cool and all, but singing “The Star Spangled Banner” in the Big House and hearing the applause from thousands of people was magical. I already miss the “sisterhood” of “song and strength” I was once skeptical of, but I hope to always cherish the feelings of excitement and gratitude I had on graduation day. These emotions encompass how I feel about my time at U-M in general. I could make this post even longer by discussing the bell towers or concerts that have also contributed to my music experience here at the university, but I’ll leave it at that.

Part III: Sculpture

Even though my academic and career goals shifted away from the arts, I always made it a point to still keep them in my life. I never took fewer than 16 credits in a given semester, yet I still couldn’t take all the classes I wanted to or found interesting. There just wasn’t the time. I knew from the very start, however, that I wanted to take some sort of visual arts class during my senior year. I had already taken drama courses and music courses as electives, but I really wanted to learn more about painting or sculpture.

I am so, so happy I did. RCARTS 270 with Raymond Wetzel was one of the best classes I took at U-M. I learned a lot about working with different materials and tools while having tons of fun in the process (wow, homework in a college class can be enjoyable!). I worked with materials such as wood, cement, and clay to create a variety of mixed-media art works, and I learned different techniques for casting, constructing, and assembling sculptures. I’ll end this chaotic post with an equally jumbled collage of images featuring art pieces both in progress and completed. Oh, and I’ll throw in my artsy graduation cap, because why not.

  

 

   

   

 

 

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 26: Why Are We Still Here? Just to Suffer?

Alias Leave a comment

Plink.  Plink.  Plink.   Behind the wall in Hal’s dorm room, water dripped.  No matter how many times he tried to block it out–plugging his ears, playing white noise from his phone, summoning Cthulu, crying into his textbook–it persisted.

 

Why am I studying anymore?  This is literally the final day of finals week.  There’s literally no reason to be on campus.  He could have left last week were it not for these dang tests.  It didn’t matter anyway; his GPA was going to be a flaming dumpster fire no matter how well he did on today’s exam.

 

“Why are we still here?” he croaked, flipping the page of his book with tater tot-crusted fingers, “just to suffer?  I can still feel the heat of the sun…taste the freedom of the wind upon my face…and yet, here I am, alone.  Alone but for the silence of self-reflection and tater tots.  After being up for 69 straight hours, I have finally snapped.  This, all of this, is just manufactured to induce torment as punishment for mentioning my love of math on my application.  Well, that love of math is no more.  The only thing I know I can cling to is the presence of pain, the absoluteness of agony, tater tots–that’s three things, but I can’t count very high.  Anyway, all I see when I glimpse into the future is pure torture designed to throw a wrench in my plans to ever feel an inkling of happiness for as long as I shall live.

 

“I’ve done problem after problem in this book, this dang book, and none of it has yet to make any sense.  I might as well try to learn how to dance the Macarena for all the good this is doing me–this isn’t even that relevant to my major.  I am only here by the sheer will of the university and the professor who schemes and plots and plots and schemes to bring about my downfall.  Not even tater tots will tie me to this place, not when the bustling of freed students fleeing their cramped doors has kept me up all day after nights spent attempting to study for this blasted test, a test that will amount to nothing in the end.  The only thing I gain from this is being one step closer to my next plate of tater tots, and then–even then–it amounts to nothing.”

 

Hal picked up his textbook and held it aloft, stroking its problem-ridden pages with a hatred that could dim a thousand suns.  “Tonight,” he hissed, “you are going to Oh*o where you belong.”

 

We have survived finals week!  Probably.  Maybe.  Well…it’s been fun, everyone!  Not sure if this is my ultimate or penultimate post of the week, but either way, The Rise of the Band Geeks will be back!

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 25: They’re Called Rehearsals, Not Camps

Alias Leave a comment

“They’re called rehearsals, Hal!  Not camps!”  A snare drummer, Billy Bob, twirled his drumstick with his ring finger before flinging it in the air and catching it with his pinky.

 

Hal grinned mischievously and waggled his reversible stuffed octopus.  “I know.”

 

It was an inside joke:  the drumline summer rehearsals were not camps because camps were optional, but rehearsals weren’t.  Of course, the drumline members screamed this phrase in a jocular manner whenever said rehearsals were mentioned, or when someone either accidentally or deliberately misspoke.

 

“Where’d you get that?”  Franklin F. Franklin jabbed his finger toward Hal’s octopus.

 

“Bruh, I just came her to have a good time and I honestly feel so attacked right now.”  Hal cradled his octopus, surreptitiously flipped it so it showed its amgery face instead of its happi face.

 

Billy Bob flung his stick into the air again.  He caught it with his thumbnail and flicked the digit around so that his stick mimicked a figure 8 motion.  “Pretty sure he’s had it since last fall.  You know, when everyone got a stuffed octopus…”

 

“Oh.  Alright.  Carry on.”  Franklin sidled away, blowing air through his mouth in a horrid attempt to whistle.

 

“Why are we even here?” Hal questioned.  He stroked his poor amgery octopus and wondered why he hadn’t named the plushie Franklin.  “We don’t even have practice.”

 

“I don’t…actually know.”  Billy Bob frowned.  “In fact, I don’t even know how I got here.  Or what I’m doing.”  As he spoke, he balanced the drumstick on his hangnail.  “You?”

 

“I live in the supply closet.”  Hal shrugged.

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, nothing.”

 

Now, Billy Bob had the stick perched on the bridge of his nose.  Despite what gravity and common sense might have you think, the stick did not fall.  “I…can’t say I know when my finals are either.  Or what classes I’m taking this semester.  Or next semester.”

 

Hal knitted his eyebrows together.  He, too, had had the same experience; he felt like his high school career was a blip in his mind, and everything before that was darkness.  “Say, do you ever go anywhere other than your dorm and the band hall?”

 

“Not…really?”  Somehow, his drumstick was now vertical as it pressed a divot into Billy Bob’s nose.  “I don’t know what the world beyond this band hall is.  I think…”  He trailed off, and the drumstick fell at long last to the ground.

 

“Hal, I think we’re fictional characters.”

 

DUN-DUN-DUUUUUN!!!!!

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 21: Traditionals

Alias Leave a comment

The Michigan Marching Band has a storied history accompanied by songs so ingrained in our collective psyche that we dare not go one football game without playing them at least once.  Such songs, aptly named “Traditionals” because they are, well, traditional band tunes, feature some of the most iconic music ever to grace Planet Earth (The Victors), as well as a couple others (Varsity).  Below is a brief description for every traditional I can think of at the moment, complete with a 100% unbiased analysis that contains no opinion whatsoever.

 

We will, of course, start with The M Fanfare.

 

The M Fanfare.  Pregame always begins with this amazing composition.  Drawn out in dramatic slowness compared to The Victors, the M Fanfare ushers forth a resounding burst of maize and blue from the hearts of all who behold it.  It also features the Drum Major’s iconic back bend during football pregame, and as such is accompanied by loud cheering.

 

The Victors (As Written).  The glorious march by Louis Elbel is a glorious rendition of everything glorious about the University of Michigan, particularly the glorious victories of Michigan Football.  It begins, as all marches should, with a trumpet fanfare and cymbal crashes, then moves through spacetime in thrilling waves comparable to the adrenaline rush one gets when thinking about Michigan’s countless triumphs over TTDS.  Loud, proud, and a definite workout, the unabridged version of The Victors inspires awe in audiences and the buildup of lactic acid in band geeks’ muscles.  Of course, every single note is a gift from God, and together they produce what can only be likened to the music of angels.

 

The Victors (Pregame).  The version of Elbel’s march played every pregame is not the same as As Written.  Rather, it is shortened, with some repeats taken out to give the band geeks some illusion of mercy after doing entries onto the field.  It is just as glorious as the above, of course, and is always greeted by resounding cheering from the hundred thousand or more Michigan fans soaking up every holy note.   The sound delay coming from the opposite end of the stadium isn’t so bad–as long as you don’t get distracted by it while playing.

 

The Victors (Trio.)  The chorus of The Victors, the trio is nearly always played at warp speed because its emergence is always preluded by a touchdown, field goal, and, at the end of the game, the W.  The trio is a pure lightning bolt of awesomeness, particularly when the victory is against TTDS for the first time in a decade.

 

Varsity.  The song played in pregame right after The Victors.  It primarily serves as a transition from the opposing team’s fight song to Let’s Go Blue in football pregame.

 

Let’s Go Blue.  Groovy, upbeat, and brimming with maize and blue, Let’s Go Blue is a short and wonderful tune that engages fans both during pregame and in the stands.  Broken into two parts based on the trumpet part, Let’s Go Blue can be played in even shorter segments between plays during games.

 

Temptation & War Chant.  I had to mention this here.  It’s just–it’s just so beautiful.  From the first note, it’s bound for greatness:  listening to it alone is incredible, but playing it transcends the mortal realm and temporarily elevates you to a deity so that you can finish the song without dying of exhaustion.  And good Lord, is it fun to play.

 

The Yellow and Blue.  Hearing the alma mater without the Trio and at least one set of entries immediately following it feels wrong after doing this after almost every game during marching season.  When you sway and lock arms while singing the lyrics, you must be prepared to play the Trio when you’re in band practice or postgame. If you listen to The Yellow and Blue in an isolated situation, your skin begins to itch with the desire to play the Trio, but alas, ’tis not meant to be.