Portfolio: Finalities

Jesus Christ Pro Skater

In the year of our Board 2016, the son of man will appear to teach the worthy how to kickflip. And he will be shunned and cast out and none but the wisest may understand his true virtue. Read this gospel all ye faithful and rejoice for the most righteous skater loves you all.

(Mark 10:25)

The Tree of the Empty Lot

In the yard of a house that has long stood empty, an apple tree watches over an old grave. Weathering the heat of summer, the tree stands resolute for its dear friend, buried near its roots. But the winds change and memories are forgotten. The apple tree of the empty lot may not survive without a friendly hand.

(A Tree with a Solitary Grave)

A Warning of Shadows

Why do you run out of your basement at night. Why do you hesitate before walking into a dark room. Why do you sometimes feel you're being watched when you know you're alone. Is it possible that something is watching you from the shadows? Investigate at your own peril.

(The Shadows Watch You)

Falling Skies

Merle has had a dream that he will soon meet his end. Because he is a wise man, he knows not to trifle with the fates. He knows that his dark end will find him whether he runs from it or not, but by accepting his fate so quickly, might he be ushering it in?

(On Old Man Contemplates the Future)

_________________________________________________________________________________

This project has been my attempt to write four very different kinds of stories all based in a similar setting. Each takes place outside of the context of its original myth and in an average suburban neighborhood. At first I had hoped they might all appear to take place in the same neighborhood but I don't believe that message came across very well. What I hope did come across, however, is the idea that stories, regardless of how preposterous they seem, are, in fact, actually very close to us. We create stories to learn more about ourselves and I think that bringing them out of fantasy land and closer to ourselves might even help us to understand them better. I have written here a comedy based on a well known Christian story, a bittersweet allegory based on a lesser known story from the same faith, a horror story based on elements a South African myth, and a story somewhere between comedy and tragedy from the ancient British tale of Merlin. 

I don't know what any readers have taken away from these stories. At the very least, I hope each provoked some emotion in people. If, however, I wrote for no other purpose than to please myself and flex my writing skills, I can be happy with the state of this project. 

Reading Notes A: Russian Fairy Tales

The story of the greedy old reverend and the goatskin is interesting in a mildly disturbing way. He refuses to bury the man's wife without being paid and then when he learns of his great treasure dons a goatskin to sneak in and steal it away from him. The most interesting part is how the skin fuses with him as a punishment though. By ripping off the skin the wife also rips off his real skin.

I think I love the story of the bad wife more than any story i've read so far in this class. It's honestly my favorite. The wife is so contrarian she does everything the opposite of what her husband says even to the point of throwing herself into tartarus. Then she eats all the little demons in there except the one who escapes. That little guy runs quite a racket with the bad wifes husband until he possesses the final woman and he runs off the demon by threatening it with his old wife again. It's really amazing. She was so scary she ate demons and scared them even when she wasn't around. I love russian fairy tales.

The one with the cat is a weird story it all goes very matter of fact but i guess ultimately its about fate and trusting god. the really wasn't any explanation for what happened in the end though i dont know why the eldest brother was a 3 year old.

There's a lot of themes of death and trickery and costumes and fate and being punished or rewarded by god in these stories. All of them kind of go along the same basic lines.

(Cat from the story The Tree Copecks)

Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887)

Week 13 Review

This was actually a very interesting gif with some really helpful information. I didn't actually know that I could text questions to the front desk I mean goodness that could have come in real handy when doing research projects. I do wonder how quickly they respond though and how many students actually use that service. Most of the other things on this list I am at least somewhat familiar with although I really sure utilize the reserve textbooks more often. 

Thanksgiving Break Announcement 

The only announcement I have to make is late. There was a protest held at the capitol building today and although people can't attend it now since it's already happened, I encourage everyone to look for it in the news. I believe it was called the Oklahoma rally against hate. In addition, I encourage people to keep their eyes open for opportunities to join protests in the future.

Review: One Day More

I really very nearly done with this class. I'm trying to do a lot of extra credit in order to get it out of the way because I know for a fact that I'm going to have to focus very hard on my upcoming social theory take-home final. I have a whole week to do it which means it's going to be very difficult. Mostly what I'm looking forward to though, is taking a week off from classes and going home.

I love helping my mom cook although I love it more when my brothers choose to pitch in and help. They've been doing it in the last few years though so I don't have too much to complain about. Mostly, though, I need to be able to catch up on my reading while I'm free. There's an awful lot of reading I need to do so I'm not entirely sure I'm going to be able to do it all but I really do need to try. I think that if I don't, this take home final is going to be a lot harder and more stressful than it needs to be. 

I know for sure that I need to go back and read the book on authoritarianism because I feel like he’s definitely going to ask us about it on the test. I had only read the 3^rd chapter of it because that’s what a classmate had told me to read when in actuality we were supposed to read the whole thing. That book’s huge though so I’m apprehensive about that. I also skipped a whole week of class do to stress from the election and need to do my reading on that too. Finally I have to do the reading for the very last week in that class. I’ve never heard of the mushroom at the end of the world but the professor says it’s a weird book. I’ll take his word for it. 

(the possibly primitivist book we have to read)

Wikipedia Trails: Sinbad to Obelisk

I started on the page, Sinbad the Sailor because it was the focus of one of the stories I read and commented on this week. I really only remember the Disney version of the story and was wondering when the original took place. Sinbad is an Arabic story and his hometown is in present day Baghdad. The story is part of the 1001 Nights but doesn't appear in the original manuscripts, only showing up a couple hundred years later in the 17th and 18th Centuries.

(Sinbad the Sailor, Milo Winter, 1914)

From here I went to the page Indian Ocean, as this was where the sailors whose stories influence the tale of Sinbad sailed. It is the 3rd largest ocean on earth and is surrounded by Asia, Africa, and Australia. This ocean also has one of the largest phytoplankton blooms in the summer because of its monsoon winds. It also harbors the Indian Ocean garbage patch which is 1.9 million square miles, made of mostly plastic, and circulates between Australia and Africa.

(Topographic Map of Indian Ocean)

From here I moved to Ancient Egypt as they were one of the first people to explore the Indian Ocean. This was an ancient civilization in Northeastern Africa that formed around 3150 BC. In the latest stages of the civilization, they were subjugated by one of Alexander the Great's generals, Ptolemy. Later, under Cleopatra, it feel to Roman rule. 

(The sphinx and pyramid of Giza)

Lastly, I moved to Obelisks. These are tall, four-sided obelisks that were commonly built in Egypt for religious reasons but have been found in cultures all over the world. They were common throughout Egypt, Assyria, the Axumite kingdom, Rome, the Byzantium Empire, and occasionally in pre-columbus America. The obelisk is still a common form of monument today although they are not always religious.

(The Obelisk from Luxor in Paris)

Learning by Heart: Maintaining Attention

I am not sure just how effective this attention technique would turn out for other people but I am able to successfully employ it and, perhaps, other people might be able to benefit from it if they somehow think the same way I do.

I often have trouble concentrating on long readings and my mind will tend to wander. Before I know it, I've been staring at a single page for 20 minutes daydreaming about other things or I distract myself by randomly wanting to google something that has no connection to what I was already doing.

In order to keep myself more engaged with my work I need to switch tasks consistently in order to break gridlock. Often, I do this by switching between multiple readings. I find that not only does this keep me reading for longer, but it also helps me to synthesize the things that I'm reading into something more coherent to talk about in class. Usually, I employ this technique by reading several pages of a article or book until I feel myself getting bored. This can happen anywhere between 3 and 10 pages, or even never if I really like what I'm reading! When I do get bored though, I make a note of where I left off and then switch to another reading. When I get board of that, I can either switch to yet another reading (as I typically have a great many due at one), or I can switch back to the original reading.

I understand that this technique may not work for everyone, but I doubt that I am the only person who thinks this way and gets distracted so easily. I need to be engaged with things moving more rapidly and I think it's possible that other people have a similar problem and could benefit from the same system.

(a somewhat unnerving picture of someone multi-tasking)

Growth Mindset: Graduate School

Graduate school's been on my mind a lot lately since the deadlines for applications are swiftly approaching. Although I'm apprehensive about being smart enough to do the work required in grad school, I think I've been learning in my social theory class that I am, in fact, fully able to handle the kind of critical thinking and work management to succeed in such a program.

When I started my social theory class I was really pretty pessimistic about whether or not I could keep up with the rest of the class and actually said so on the first day of class. I think that, even now, I may be a bit behind the learning curve when it comes to the work and critical analyses required in that class but over the last semester I've learned that most of what I'm afraid of is putting a large amount of effort into the class only to fail it. Sometimes, then, I don't try my best because if I don't do my best and fail then I can say that the only reason I failed was because I didn't try my hardest. Trying my hardest and failing is a much scarier thing to consider.

As the semester's gone on, I think I've come more to terms with being able to fail occasionally in class if it means learning from my mistakes. I'm trying to speak more in class in order to be corrected if need-be although such a thing still gives me anxiety. I've got a long way to go especially considering I'm not yet in grad school but I think I'm getting there.

(Marx's Capital, one of the difficult books we had to read for class)

Tech Tip: Convert Video to Audio

If you ever, for any reason need to convert a youtube video to an audio file and strip out the video, there's a very easy site for it. This video to audio converter only requires the url of the video you want to convert and then will proceed to turn it into an mp3 file. These kind of files can be used for all sorts of things from listening to music, to editing in an audio editor, to making it into a ringtone. This is actually how I make all of my ringtones and text tones. It's much funner to rip audio from youtube for ringtones than to use the boring defaults tones and it's free! Happy Listening!

(original screenshot from vid-to-aud converter site)

Reading Notes A: Dante's Inferno

I am getting a bit confused by the way things are phrased in this so I'm gonna summarize what seems relevant:

Dante arrives in a horrible forest. He tries to leave towards the light but a lion blocks his path. Turning back around, he meets Virgil who offers to guide him another way through the forest and through hell, after which he will end up passing through heaven with an angelic guide.

The people who are neither evil nor believers are trapped in a sort of limbo. They cannot die but are forgotten and forsaken from the earth and left to be tortured by wasps and worms.

So this is the real limbo. Good Christian people who were never baptized still live in hell. seems pretty harsh. There are people here that are fictional. It's not just a warning for real people then.

I'm a bit confused by the lovers bit. Were they there simply because they fornicated? Or cheated on others? Or are they grouped as lovers but are damned as non-christians? May need to re-read this carefully but i dont get it right now.

Cerberus the guardian eats dirt. River Styx = hatred. people consumed by anger, ripping each other apart, some lie under the water, drowning, sighing

Furies are large, bloody women covered in various kinds of snakes.

(The Furies)

Dante's Divine Comedy, translated by Tony Kline (2002)

Review: Vine Deloria

Today, November 13th, is the anniversary of the death of Vine Deloria Jr. I wouldn't have known that without having read the articles. I don't know a lot about the philosopher except that he was the first, widely read and popularly acknowledged Native philosopher. In the class I took last semester (Native American Philosophy, which I encourage everyone to take), we read his book God is Red.

It was a really poignant book although I would caution any Christian who considers reading it to go into it with an understanding of the devastation that has been wrought on North and South America in the name of Christianity. It doesn't go light on those topics but it brings up some very good and very important critiques not only of Christianity but of all proselytizing religions. The book, and the class as a whole, had a real impact on me. Native issues was never something that was in the forefront of my mind before but I've really tried to be careful and considerate of it since then.

I'm glad to be able to acknowledge the death of such a great thinker and revolutionary activist.

(Vine Deloria Jr., 2002 Photograph by Cyrus McCrimmon

Associated Press)

Famous Last Words: Lots of Change in the Forecast

This is the first time I’ve gotten around to doing my last words post. This semester has been kind of hectic for me especially with my capstone, my grad level class which I’m taking before I’m actually a grad student, getting ready to apply to grad school, and preparing for the GRE which is on Monday. I think too often I’ve let this class slip between the cracks even though I really do find it fun. I’ve found some extra time this week to do a lot of extra credit which will help me to catch up on some of the weeks I had to skip things in order to work on other class work and also to help me finish before the potentially hellish social theory final. I’m really, really, really not looking forward to that class final.

On the other hand, I’ll be very happy to have all my grad stuff done and sent in soon. My first applications have to be in by December 1^st. I need to finish up my statement of purpose, ask my teachers for recommendations, and run by and get my transcript. These first schools are in Canada so I’m a bit nervous about getting into them and then potentially moving so far away. I really think the trepidation is worth it though. Grad school is just immensely cheaper in Canada and I really don’t have any money or resources to pay for college in America unless I want to go into massive amounts of debt (which I don’t).

I’m very happy that I should, if everything goes well, be finishing up this semester with continued straight A’s and hopefully that will put me in pretty good standing to go to grad school. Ideally, I’ll even be able to get some extra funding like a fellowship or whatnot. There’s a lot of potentially big changes coming up and I’m not sure I’m ready for all of them but I’ll cross all those bridges when I come to them. I just can’t ignore that they’re coming up fast!

(Duke's Grad School Placard) 

Wikipedia Trail: From Oriole to Gondwana

I'm starting my trail at Old World Oriole because I read someone's story about an Oriole and they listed a whole bunch of different things that they could eat and to be honest I wasn't really sure if they ate fruit, nectar and bugs. I thought it was only one or the other. Turns out they do eat both, the article says their diet consists of fruit, berries, arthropods, and nectar.

(Oriole, Bukit Timah Nature Reserve, Singapore)

This led me to the page Drongo cause I've really never heard of a Drongo but turns out it's just another kind of bird. They're small and black. They eat bugs and they are very good at mimicking. They can even, apparently sound false alarms but how exactly this benefits them is vague in the article.

(Spangled Drongo, Austrailia)

From Drongo I linked to Madagascar, where the Drongo's name originates from. It's the 4th largest island in the world and 90% of its species are unique to it. Human settlement of the continent between 350 BC and AD 550. It's official languages are French and Malagasy, and it achieved independence from France in 1960.

(Madagascar Flag)

Lastly I moved on to Gondwana. Madagascar used to be a part of the Supercontinent Gondwana before it split from the Indian Peninsula about 88 million years ago. The landmass formed prior to Pangaea and later joined with Laurasia to become part of it. It began to break up in about the early Jurassic period or 183 million years ago.

(Gondwana and Laurasia)

Learning Challenge: Bibliotherapy

The New Yorker article about whether reading can make you happier was pretty interesting. I used to love to read a lot and there are still books that I remember resonating with me very clearly. In high school when I was going through a very tough time I remember reading a lot of Sarah Dessen books which were all about other high school girls who encountered issues like abuse, neglectful parents, sexual assault, depression, and things like that. All of these teenage girls ended up finding strength and hope in their friends and sometimes family and becoming better versions of themselves in the end. I remember some of these books so well because of how much they kept me occupied on the idea of better which was what I really needed at that time.

Right now, with how much work I have to do consistently and my own person issues I don't read a lot of fiction. I read a lot of theory and articles for class but I doubt they have the same kind of benefits. Reading about Franz Boas's critique of the comparative method probably won't cure my depression but at the same time my depression really keeps me from feeling up to reading much. And any time I do try to read I always find myself distracted and disinterested. I don't know if I can find that reading spark that got me through high school but I think it's worth another try if I can just get myself interested in something.

(Sarah Desson books, article not reccomended)

Growth Mindset: 1st Person Writing Style

I really wanted to challenge myself with my most recent story. I tend to shy away from 1st person stories because I never like how they turn out. I much much much prefer 3rd person narratives. Sometimes I think it's too difficult to get into a character's head without making them sound completely bland. I also like to maintain a more omniscient narrator. I'm not really sure how I'd get everything into my story from a first person perspective.

Anyways, I've been trying to branch out with how I write my stories so my most recent story about Merlin was from a first person perspective. I thought that, because his situation was so odd, it would really help to be able to get into his mind rather than watching him complete all these actions from the outside. I think it was a more personal story which is why it worked so well. I'm not sure I could use the writing style as often as some people like to use it, but this definitely gave me some good practice with it.

The last thing I want my writing to sound like is bland and boring and I think I accomplished that pretty well with my current story. I would really have liked to have had a large word count limit because I feel like I could have expanded on his thoughts even more, but I'm generally happy with the story I wrote.

(my dog stays up late with me while I'm trying to write, original picture)

Tech Tip: Ad Free Internet

I know I certainly get sick of ads popping up every time I'm trying to read a website. Moving ads with flashing lights are great for getting your attention but not so great for concentration. This is why I use two Chrome extensions in tandem to block both ads and website trackers so they can't keep track of your data (like cookies).

(screen shot of uBlock extension, taken by me)

uBlock is an extension that blocks ads on websites when it detects them. In the event that it doesn't detect an ad, you can always right click on the ad and add it to the extension's database. Then refresh the page and no more add! uBlock is now preferred over the previously popular adblock plus because adblock plus now sells ad space that it will refuse to block to third parties. 

(screenshot of Ghostery extension, taken by me)

Ghostery is an extension that blocks websites and third parties from collecting data on you without your knowledge. These profiles they build allow them to not only track what you look at an buy but also build targeted ads tailored to your spending habits. Because Ghostery blocks these, it will also block some ads that might slip through uBlock's detectors. If there is any ad targeting you'd prefer to receive, you can always list trackers as trusted in the options menu.

Extra Reading Notes: King Arthur B

Sir Galahad's tale is one I'd never heard before but it is kind of funny, him running around and fighting with just about anyone. Some of the fights I wasn't even sure why he was doing them other than maybe he just wanted to fight.

There are an awful lot of Christian symbols in the tales of the nights. Being heavy or weighed down by sins is a common theme. All looking for the Grail (Graal).
I was not aware of the idea that a lion was a more natural beast than a serpent. Maybe this has something to do with the snake in the garden of Eden. Also riding a lion is pretty dang cool.

Lancelot is "the best man in the world and the bravest." However he's also very sinful. The concept of sin in this old context is somewhat confusing to me.
There's a lot of voices and hands and visions. It's all meant to be holy but it could be abstracted to something else. Even witchcraft.

There's another sword like excaliber that cannot be drawn from a stone. It's also got blood writing on it though that's a little more menacing.

Only the last story makes any mention of Arthur. Most of these stories are concerned either with sin and fighting or specifically with searching for the Graal.

This has a story of miracle healing by the three knights and the Graal. They get imprisoned for this. Galahaad becomes king. Unexpected.

(Sir Lancelot fights the knight of a rival kingdom)

King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1902).

Reading Notes: Nursery Rhymes B

there are lots of animal stories with potential to mash together. There's a poor cat who's almost drowned but is saved by a dog. A wedding between a fly and a bee, a flying monster cow???

there's also a recurrent theme of small children doing things together. Jack and jill, the two kids who live in an alley, the man who asked to marry the woman but she wasn't having it. These are all disparate and mildly related but i could splice them together somehow.

Im not sure how two geese could carry the kings daughter over a river but this could be a possible story. it's wild and vague enough i might be able to work with it especially if they perhaps kidnapped her or something.
I might be able to combine it with other bird nursery rhymes but for the most part they are very vague. In this other story a bunch of ducks die from eating polywags. I might include that geese are almost ducks.

(goose and gander)

The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Lang

Reading Notes: Nursery Rhymes A

some of these are styled differently from how i remember them. i memorized the whole mother goose book at like age 3 so reading these slightly off rhymes is really weird

the first one that catches my eye is the on old duck hunter who shoots a duck for dinner. the only interesting bit is at the end when he promises his wife he'll go out and shoot a drake. like... a dragon? the duck hunter v the dragon

robbin the bobbin - man who can eat literally anything and anyone and never gets full. either a horror story or a superpower

I might by able to add in the rhyme about the piper's son to the tale of the dragon. if he can make anything dance by playing his pipes that might come in hand to fight a dragon

(this probably isn't a hunter but he is fighting a cool dragon)

 The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Lang

Story: Falling Skies

I am fated to die.

I know this and I accept it. I had a dream about it once. I closed my eyes and I saw it all – the sky, black and heavy, fell upon me and swallowed me up, and I waited in darkness for my last breath to leave me.

            My friend, Arthur, says I am being dramatic. He says that if I can see my death coming, then why am I so calm about it? Why don’t I try to avoid it? But the truth is that things like this cannot be outrun. If the sky chooses to swallow me whole, then I will let it and be content. One cannot fight the sky after all.

            I thought my end was coming today as I left my house. I stood at the crosswalk and felt my time was near. The cross-light turned green and as I began to set foot in the road I saw a truck, bright and red and angry, speeding down the street.

           

“So this is how it ends,” I thought. “A squeal of black tires and a flash of red and it’s over. If this is how it ends, then I march boldly forward to meet it.” I spoke these words aloud to myself as I crossed slowly, slowly, waiting for the end.

WHEEERRRRRR!!!

            I stood in the road, staring up at the bright red fire engine, now halted in front of me.

WHEEEEERRRRRRRR!!!

            It blasted its horn again at me. As I stood there, contemplating my new turn of fortune, the driver of the truck hung his head out of the window.

            “Hey! Move it won’tcha! We’ve got a fire to put out and you’re standing in the middle of the bloody road!”

            He was clearly put out. I stood there a few seconds longer contemplating this twist of fate as his face grew redder and redder. I thought he might pass out before he threw the engine in reverse and pulled out around me.

            I was alive, for now, and for how much longer I didn’t know. Any second could be my last. I drifted the rest of the way across the street in a daze as I made my way to the park. I looked up at the clouds above me. I was wrong. My end would come from the sky, not the street. I thought about my dream as I wandered into the neighborhood park. The sky. In thought, I looked down at the ground and surprised myself to see the clouds and sun shining at me from below my feet. My legs had carried me to the small dock hanging out over the edge of the pond.

            The sky. The sky. But what if it had not been the sky falling down to meet me? What if I had fallen to meet the sky – the sky reflected at me in this water hole? As I contemplated this, standing on the edge of the deck I felt overwhelmed. Vertigo set in as I wobbled where I stood.

            “Merle? Oi, Merle!” someone called. I think it was Arthur. His voice startled me. I jumped only a bit but it was enough to send me off balance. Ah, my fate at last. I did not fight to stay upright as I tumbled into my abyss. With a hard splash, I hit the water. Drifting there in the cool water I felt myself running low on breath.

            “Not much longer,” I thought to myself as I floated there, face down, waiting for my end. All around me I heard splashing and shouting. Not mine, I believe. I simply floated, calmly, calmly, accepting a fate I could not change.

            Suddenly and with much angry yelling, I was hefted from the water and shook about until my head rattled. As the cacophony sounded in my ears and my vision slid back into focus I saw my friend Arthur standing above me, visibly peeved. He was shouting,

            “What’re you doing, you daft bastard?! Why were you just floating there?!”

            Oh Arthur, he didn’t understand. Fate is not something you can run from, but as I searched for the words to explain this to him he kept shaking me, thoroughly rattling me about.

            “Please, Arthur, let me go,” I asked him calmly. He was stood waist deep in the pond still holding me by the arm and covered in pond scum. As I tugged free and pulled my feet underneath me I realized the pond was easily shallow enough to stand in.

            “You’re not still on again about the fate shite are ya? I told you it was a bunch of rubbish and now I’m covered in pond scum because you want to splash about in the fish pond. I’m tired of it ya know!”

            “Yeah, I know,” I said as I walked away from him. I needed to return to my house and think about what had happened. Every time I thought fate had finally caught up with me, something impeded it. Perhaps, perhaps it had not been so inevitable as I thought. Every pitfall today I had avoided. Perhaps Arthur was right. Maybe I am not doomed.

            I hurried home as the fluffy white clouds above me grew grey and heavy with rain. I pulled open the door to my flat as the sky opened up and the wind began to howl. In deep contemplation I trudged up the stairs to my room and laid down in my bed.

Drip. . . Drip. . . Drip. . .

The rain leaked through the ceiling and onto my pillow. Years of water damage had weakened the roof and the leak grew steadily larger. As I lay in bed and contemplated the ceiling, I heard it creak and shudder. Slowly, I watched the ceiling above me buckle and groan.

“Ah,” I thought, “not so inevitable then. As I suspected,” and I lay there and waited as the roof strained, and broke, and caved in above me, and the sky fell, and darkened my world.

(A collapsed roof)

Author’s Note: This story is based specifically on the death of Merlin in the larger myth of King Arthur. In the story, Merlin has a premonition that he's going to die by being buried. King Arthur tries to encourage him to avoid this fate since he knows it's coming but Merlin sees it all as inevitable. When the evil Vivien asks him to climb under a boulder to look for something, he knows he going to die but does it anyways. Then she traps him and leaves him for dead. I chose to retell the story like this out of frustration with the original. I didn’t understand why Merlin told Arthur that he was doomed to die by being buried alive and clearly knew a trap was being set for him when Morgan encouraged him to squeeze in under that big rock but he still went and did it anyways. So I thought I’d play up my frustrations to a bit of an absurd level with this little story.  I really wanted to keep the ending something close to being buried alive so even though his house collapsing is a bit dramatic I think it worked fairly well with the story. I hope it wasn’t too awfully morbid!

King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang

Story Planning: King Arthur

The thing that stuck out most to me about the story of king arthur is just how many weird things keep happening. I think there's a way to pull them all together into a story of very strange things occuring, maybe some guy has just gone through them all in a day and doesn't know how to handle it? or possibly a bunch of weird things keep happening in the same neighborhood

Things to consider: setting in a suburban neighborhood or setting in King Arthur's time

neighborhood fits with my portfolio theme and might be able to be used there if I like the story enough

King Arthur's England has the possibility of magic and giant creatures

magic and creatures could be used in a neighborhood setting but they fit more easily into arthur's kingdom. My other portfolio stories have magic though so I won't concern myself with that too much.

King Arthur: tending towards making him a good dude who's generally confused about his situation, he didn't expect to be king or to encounter the lady of the lake, his best friend got trapped under a boulder, some guy in his house gets killed by a dream ghost.
If set in a neighborhood would probably change up the nature of what happens.

Lake could be a pond in the public park, lady of the lake could be some weirdo swimming about in it or even a tree branch from a fallen tree sticking up out of it with something caught in it

Another possibility is i could focus the whole story around just one of those strange incidents. I could write a short little story about Merlin who's convinced of his own death and very content to let it happen. That might end up being kind of sad.
he's an unusually morose guy who has accepted he will die soon but as of yet hasn't. After a series of close calls (getting hit by a car, nearly drowning, setting his house on fire) he finally meets his end by... being buried in some way. Might end up being morbid but I think the direction that could go.

(Merlin the wizard. Credit: Andy / flickr)

King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang

Reading Notes: King Arthur A

I think i might be able to make this one into another comedy. Could be a first person narrative.  Going to be tricky to pull off without making it too kitchy. Also doesn't quite fit with my theme of suburban stories. May rethink this.

Arthur clearly doesn't intend to be king. Kinda occurs  by happenstance for him.
Pulling the sword from the hand in the water is also extremely odd. He's promised some mermaid woman a favor in exchange for this fancy sword the whole deal is shady.
I might also be able to play off merlin getting buried under a rock as a strange coincidental thing especially as he knew it was coming and willingly went to his death. It's all a weird turn of events.
Another odd happening: a guy is killed in his sleep by a mystery dagger while holding a super fancy candlestick.

(King Arthur and his knights of the round table)

 King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang

Story: Hooves, Horns, and Teeth

They came that night. Rotten maws full of needle-like teeth; dried matted fur and hollow eyes. The sound of their hooves tapping in the dirt and stone path announced their presence. One snorted and sniffed the air.

Clip-clop Clip-clop

The sound used to herald wellness and prosperity. Mules used to truck bundles of goods  here and there for the people of the town and horses clambered up the street with passengers in tow, heading for far off towns. No one here used to fear the night as they do now. Children could play in the streets until the moon rose high in the sky. Now only the soft whisper of the breathing caribou and the tap-tap-tapping of their hooves filled the night. The townspeople huddled in their homes, trapped within them until dawn burned away the darkness. A curtain twitched, just barely, as someone watched silently from the window. They made a terrifying scene, the reindeer. A dark, huddled mass, full of flesh-ripping teeth and topped with horns moved through the town, scouring for any soul unlucky enough to be caught out after dark.

It hadn’t always been like this. When the town was new and the settlers staked their claim over the land once held by another people, now dispossessed and transient, the reindeer stayed far away. Then the land was beautiful. The water ran clear and the trees grew high and the wildflowers grew so numerous they blotted out the tender green grass in the fields. Only after the land had been swallowed by its new masters, its rivers sullied and the trees cleared, did it change. The earth grew sick and, like antibodies, the reindeer appeared.

They were dumb, vicious brutes. They could rip a man’s arm clean off and leave him for dead. In a herd they could trample a house and a swift kick could kill a child. They were oversized, with bloated stomachs hanging low and full of meat. Their shoddy appearance disguised their agility. Appearing each night only the vanish with the sun, the reindeer now ruled the town. In the early days of their arrival they ran many men down – men who had sworn to capture them and kill them. Few were able to do so. The reindeer’s thick hide left it nearly impervious to damage and its short temper made it a fierce foe. Too often the town’s hunters became the hunted until they thought it best not to further disturb the beasts but to let them pass.

The great beasts became more reckless with time. As the town killed more and more animals for food and dumped more and more of their waste into the water, and threw more and more of their garbage into the surrounding area, the reindeer multiplied. What started as a small group – four or five individuals – was now a full blown legion. Now, their presence weighs like a stone around the neck of the town. Little recourse is available to the people who once called this living nightmare their home. Now, people pack their things and leave.

Clip-clop Clip-clop

The sound now heralds an exodus from the town, now claimed by the ravenous reindeer. Each family, tired of living in fear, now moves on to greener fields, ones not yet infested with the flesh-devouring monstrosities of the night. Some believe this to be the ultimate end of the reindeer, as ghastly retribution for an Earth mistreated. As mother nature was wronged so mother nature sets the score even.

The old town, littered now with garbage which blows between dilapidated houses, stands empty, a testament to the culture which had once claimed it. The reindeer, they say, have lost their teeth now. Without their human prey they have resorted to feeding on the greens which grow lush in the fallow fields. As time wears on and the traces of humans wear away, the reindeer grow fewer still. They now seem as tame beasts, chewing their grass contentedly, drifting between the trees. The memories of their vicious ancestors fade, as do the scars of a neglectful town.

(a herd of reindeer)

Author's Note: This story was based just on a small tidbit from the Raven's myth. In it, vicious, sharp teethed reindeer kill and eat men for over-hunting in the area. The town's people are able to rid themselves of them by setting out very sour berries which cause their teeth to fall out. In my story, I capitalized on the idea of vicious, man eating reindeer and really focused on trying to describe them and the fear they were bringing to that town. In addition, I took out the part about the sour berries because I rather enjoyed the idea of mother nature retaining some kind of guard against more exploitative humans. I kind of think that if someone were to move back into the area and mistreat it, then the reindeer would regrow their sharp teeth and start eating people again.

Myths and Legends of Alaska, edited by Katharine Berry Judson (1911)

Reading Notes: The Raven Myth A

This myth is long in several parts so it should be the best to get a full story from

First man emerges from a pea pod that raven plants, then raven creates animals like mountain sheep and reindeer for hunting. Lastly he makes a woman for the man who came from the pod. Creation makes raven a very powerful figure but he seems mostly benevolent rather than malicious at least at the moment.
He teaches man to make houses that are strong like beaver's and to use muskrat skin as clothing. He makes bear as a warning not to over-hunt and respect ferocity in nature. He also makes important tools like nets, bows, and arrows from sealskin.

The a-mi-kuk is a really interesting monster and I'm considering abandoning the rest of the myth just to write something about this monster. I love the whole "not being able to escape thing" although I already have something similar with another myth I wrote. I'll ruminate on this.

Now, reindeer kill and eat men for being overpopulated and killing off too many animals. That's kind of weird since reindeer are herbivore but it describes "wolf-like teeth." In order to keep from being eaten, the townspeople set out a bunch of very sour berries. The deer eat them and shake their heads so hard (from the sour?) they loose their sharp teeth. Could capitalize on this in combination with the a-mi-kuk for a monster story.

(A Deer with Sharp Teeth)

Myths and Legends of Alaska, edited by Katharine Berry Judson (1911)

Reading Notes: California and the Old Southwest

I think the story I like the best at the moment is the fable of the animals. It has some good comedy potential. All the animals have been made and Man is coming in the morning to give them all bows of varying length correlating to their power. Coyote wants the largest bow and stays up all night to be first in line but ends up falling asleep. He then gets the smallest bow and all the animals make fun of him. Man then gives him a consolation prize of 10x as much cunning as he originally had.

It's really simple and short so I'm trying to think of how to spin it. I think I could have kids being given presents by their grandma. One stays up all night to see her in order to get the best gift but she sleeps in. Once she wakes up, her siblings have already claimed their gifts and she gets the one she likes least. Maybe an embroidered pillow or something. As a consolation though, grandma actually teaches her how to embroider, which ends up being a useful skill that none of the others have any patience to learn.

(child's embroidery)

The Fable of Animals, Karuk People's tale. Myths and Legends of California and the Old Southwest by Katharine Berry Judson.

Story: A Warning of the Shadows

Beware the thief of masks for he hunts in the shadows.

You know him because you have seen him before. He stands only just out of sight, and he does not move, and he does not speak. He follows and he hides. He hides in the dark corners of your home and you know this, and you do not go there. You fly from your basement – quickly, quickly up the stairs, and you’ve escaped. You turn to look back down the stairs, to make sure he hasn’t followed. And he is never there, but you knew; you knew he followed, so you ran. And you were smart.

You have seen him, but you cannot remember what he looks like. He is not a man but he stands like one. He is dark and his fingers are long. He stands, just out of the corner of your eye. You know that if you turned your head you’d see him. If you could only focus on that bit of black in the corner of your vision, you would catch him. If you were quick enough, you’d see your companion, but when you look, he is no longer there. He is gone again, but not for long. Ever persistent, he returns. Perhaps he will stand just a little closer this time, and perhaps he will move, and perhaps the hairs on the back of your neck will prickle and stand on end, and you will dare yourself to turn around, to check just once more that you are truly alone. And perhaps you will turn again, to find no one there. And you may go back to your book and think of him no more.

But sometimes, sometimes, the thief will grow bored. Sometimes he will cease his game, and he will not move, and you will turn and meet him eye to eye. He will pretend that you have offended him, that your gaze has unveiled him and you must pay the price for brazen intrusion. Should this happen, know that your time is short, for only the wisest of people have seen the thief and escaped, and you are not among them.
 The thief is capricious, and he is cruel. His favored trick, should you offend him, is your demise. Should you look at the thief, should you take the anonymity he covets, you will see him, and nothing else. He will make quick work of stripping you of your skin. He will eat you, and your heart will beat as his. When he is full, he will don your remains. He will wear your skin and assume your life. He will attend your job, and eat your food, and kiss your loved ones. None will miss you, for they will not know that you have gone, and you will rest forever in his stomach.

Watch closely your loved ones, for they may not be who they once were. You will know the thief when he becomes bored, and he shirks his duties. Be wary should animals run from them, for creatures can see the thief and have more respect for him than we. Perhaps he will move too quietly, and perhaps he will not laugh at your jokes, and perhaps you may catch just the smallest glimpse of his true form, and you will know that the thief has taken them.

Should you decide to confront the thief there is but one way to kill him. When he sleeps and you see that he does not stir, place kindling around your loved one. Be strong and light the blaze. Watch as they are engulfed in flames and, just as the fire has eaten them whole, you must cut out the heart.

You must be strong and kill the thief, or else be content to live a lie. Should your will run short you may content yourself to harbor this monster. They look like the one you have lost; they sound like them. How can you be sure they are not them? Do not ask this question for the seed of doubt will grow in your mind and once doubt takes root, you may never fully kill it. Strike once and be done with it. See the killer burn and die and know that you have avenged the one you loved.

Or you may live with your doubt. Touch the one you love and wonder if their flesh is still theirs. Share your meals with them and wonder if they taste with their own tongue. One day, perhaps, the thief will grow bored with his lie and with you, and you may turn your head to see him, and you will wish that you had lit the flame.

(a hand, reaching from the darkness)

Author's Note: This story was very loosely based on the story of The Lion Who Took the Woman's Shape, from South African mythology. In the story, a woman offends a lion and the two chase each other. When the lion finally pounces on her and eats her, he wears her skin, returns to her family and resumes her life, although he acts very strangely. Eventually, the woman's mother sees some of the lion's fur sticking out from under her skin. She gathers the village and they burn the lion and cut out its heart. The mother then places the heart in a jar with some milk and the daughter reappears from the jar some days later. I decided to make it a little spookier. I think most people tend to see things out of the corner of their eye even when they know that nothing is there. I thought that if this entity were more sinister, and especially if they took your skin, if would make a great urban legend sort of myth. In the end, there's no reviving the person you lost because that loses a bit of the spookiness of the story and regeneration feels kind of silly in the context of urban myths. It is also, of course, not a lion because that's not a creature you see much in suburban life.

 South African Folk-Tales by James Honey (1910)

Story: In Pursuit of Water

Jamal was never the brightest kid on the block. He had a habit of getting into trouble by rushing into it headlong.

            “Watch where you’re going!”

            “Clean up your mess!”

            “Jamal don’t touch that!” everyone yelled at him. But he never listened.

One hot summer day, the rains refused to fall. They didn’t fall that day, and they didn’t fall the next, and they didn’t fall for a full week. In fact, the rain stayed in the clouds for weeks, and months. The ground cracked up and the grass withered and died, and the little town had to begin rationing water to make it through the dry season.

Jamal, parched and thirsty, decided that he would begin collecting as much water as he could and store it somewhere safe for himself so that he’d have water whenever he wanted it. First, he collected a great bucket with a sturdy lid, and went about looking for the lost water. In short time, he came upon a water bottle with only the smallest bit of water left in the bottom.

            “This is mine now!” he called, and dumped the water into his bucket.

Next, he came to the trees. Most of their leaves were yellowing and crispy, but under the tall branches, shielded from the majority of the sun, Jamal found a batch of green, healthy leaves.

            There must be water in these leaves, thought Jamal. Trees need water to survive.

So he took the leaves and twisted and twisted them between his fingers until they each produced just the smallest bit of water and he let each drop fall into his pail. Further in, among the trees, Jamal found a puddle by the roots of a large oak. Bending down, he could see that the water was murky and filled with dirt.

            Well I can’t drink this! he thought, but he scooped up what he could in his hands, picking out the leaves and the sticks and dumped it into his bucket. Water is water after all.

In short time, he came upon a neighbor’s house, and in front of that house he found a bucket half full of colorful, soapy water.

            That’s just what I need! Of course this clean water will clean off the dirty water I’ve got in my bucket. I’m a genius!

So Jamal took the soapy water and dumped it into his bucket, and at this point he had a nice, large amount of water all for himself. Thinking that his bucket would surely last him through the summer, he decided to hide it in his special spot in the maple tree. Holding the bucket in his arms, he tried to climb the tree. With only one hand and his feet free, he found it nearly impossible to make any progress with his ascent.

            “Jamal! What are you doing with that bucket?”

He turned around. His sister Tiara was standing there with her hands on her hips. Of course she thought he was being ridiculous, she just didn’t understand his plan.

            “I’m going to take this bucket right here,” he shifted the pail in his arms, “and hide it in this tree here so that I’ve always got water to drink when I get thirsty. I found all this myself and I plan to drink it.”

Tiara was much too familiar with her brother’s antics to be surprised by this, but she asked him, “Wouldn’t it be easier to tie that bucket on your back to carry it up?”

Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of this? So Jamal grabbed a length of cord and tied to bucket to his back, wrapping the rope around his midsection and knotting it. He climbed and climbed the tree until he felt safe within its branches and he looked back down at his sister. She was drinking a bottle of cool, clear water.

“You know, we have bottled water right? The water in our house may be rationed but the store has plenty of water,” she said as she turned and left.

        Jamal was livid and in horrible frustration he threw his bucket to the ground, spilling his hard gathered water everywhere. Just then, he heard a thunderclap, and the skies opened up rain upon his neighborhood. Soaking wet and sitting in the tree, Jamal considered how his day had developed. Then, feeling utterly defeated, he climbed back down from his tree, walked to his house, and got his own bottled water from the fridge.

Author's Note: This story was based on stories from West Africa. In the original story, the trickster Anansi gets mad at all humans and goes about collecting up all his wisdom in the world and putting it into a clay pot, he then tries to take this pot up a tree to keep it from humans forever when his son says that he should strap the pot to his back so that he can climb the tree more easily. Realizing he hadn't collected all the knowledge after all, Anansi, throws the pot down, breaking it, and re-releasing all his wisdom back to the world and mankind. I thought using water and a little boy who was more just a  bit dumb than a malicious trickster like Anansi was a funny turnabout.

Photos: Jamal's disgusting water, and Tiara, drinking her own water and being smug about it

 West African Folktales by William H. Barker and Cecilia Sinclair (1917)

Reading Notes: West African Tales B

This story is going to pull together multiple of the west african stories. This will be about a very naive person just trying to get along. There should be three episodes.

Jamal is a bit dumb but well intentioned.  One day all the fruit trees dried up and everyone longs for fruit.  His sister, Tiara, finds an great avacado tree standing by itself which bunches of avacados. She wacks the tree with a big stick several times and avacados fall down. She gathers them and goes home. Jamal tries to do the same but instead of a stick he rams a car into it, knocking the tree down and ruining everything.

Another time, he tells a lizard his best secret. Shortly after he asks the lizard if he has told everyone his own secret and the lizard, as lizards do, bobs it head up and down. He thinks this means the lizard has told and tries to kill the lizard for it but the lizard gets away. He swears revenge on the creature. 

the third story has yet to be worked out. I'll come up with it over the next day.

(Crashed car, source)

West African Folktales by multiple authors

Reading Notes: West African Stories A

Although I love these stories I don't find any of them immediately inspiring me for a retelling. The best I have, I think is the pot of wisdom myth. Anansi is offended by men and takes to gathering all knowledge he'd taught back into his pot. He then tries to hide it in a big tree so no one can have it but can't get it up there because his pot is in the way of his climbing. His son then tells him to swing to pot around to his back to climb. He realizes his son still has wisdom he doesn't, smashes the pot, and releases wisdom to the world. It's very short and simple which means I have a lot of room to work with. At the moment I have the idea that someone is collecting something so that no one else can have them. Maybe pokemon cards or the like. When he finds someone else has a very rare object that he covets, he gets angry and scatters all his collectibles away into the sea.

It's a very vague story at the moment. After reading part B, I'll either end up switching to a different story or going ahead and fleshing this one out more.

(image of a pouting child)

West African Folktales by multiple authors

Story: The Tree of the Empty Lot

     The sun was bright and hot as Eve dug the grave for her precious dog, Adam. A deep pit in the backyard swallowed him up and over the grave she planted the small seedling she had picked out especially for this occasion. It was the fresh beginning of a new summer and the blazing sun beat down on the little tree. Her only memento of her best friend, she watered it tenaciously until it had grown into a thing of beauty – a sturdy tree that bore sweet apples, a tribute to her lost pup.

     But she was young and restless, and after a few years she moved from that place. The little tree had grown strong alongside her and now it stood strong for her, weathering the harsh sunlight rooted in the dry, cracking earth, standing tall and proud for Eve's friend, Adam. No new owner moved to the house and there the tree stood, tall and alone, as weeds grew and trash collected in the yard. The sun shone hot for many summers and the rain refused to fall and the tree sagged under the oppression. The leaves yellowed and the roots ached for nourishment but Adam's tree never wavered, always producing fresh apples and shading the grave of its ward. For years it stood sturdy as Adam's body returned to the earth until it was the only physical monument to testify to his existence.

     In time, a group of children, still learning their times-tables, saw the glistening apples hanging from its branches and approached. Pulling down the sweet, red fruit, the three boys noticed how the branches hung desolately in the sun and agreed among themselves to bring it water. Gathering three buckets which sat long abandoned in the yard, they trekked to their own houses, each filling their pail with cool, clean water.

     In the trek, the first child found a cat, also suffering from the summer heat. Forgetting the tree, he stopped and tipped the bucket so the cat could drink. Forgetting the weight of the bucket, he accidentally tipped it over and, although the cat drank plentifully from what spilled to the ground, there was none left for the tree. The second child walked further and, about halfway to the house, he found a bush in dire need of water. Being kindhearted, he stopped and dumped his bucket out for the bush, and so the bush drank but the tree went thirsty. The third child, in all his strength, carried his bucket the farthest but, when he had gotten to the edge of the property, he saw a man, destitute and thirsty, peeking just out from the corner of the window inside the house. Although no one should be living there for the house was unowned, this man had hidden there from the sun as he had no home of his own. Being gentle and sweet, the child brought his bucket over to the house and left it beside the door. Tentatively, the man opened the door and took the bucket inside, drinking generously of the water for he had none of his own. The water had long since been cut off from this abandoned house.

     Forgetting Adam's tree but having done three good deeds, each child was satisfied with himself and left. Adam’s tree remained, thirsty and slowly withering, yet resolute to the end beneath the evening sky. The man in the house, having watched the boys and their efforts, saw the tree and its shining apples. Pitying it, he stepped outside and, with the last of the water remaining in the bucket, dumped it at the base of the tree. It was a sprinkling, only, but the tree, determined to forever protect the grave over which it stood, gratefully absorbed what it could and survived. In its due course, the harsh summer ended and cool autumn finally blessed the tree with much needed rain, bringing it back to life.

     Eventually, another family moved into the house and, seeing the apples, marveled at the beauty of the tenacious tree and took great care of it although they had no knowledge of its purpose. They pruned the weeds from its base and cleaned the garbage from around its roots and daily watered it when none fell from the sky. The tree grew stronger, and its branches blossomed and its apples grew sweeter than ever. Its leaves were broad and green and soft apple blossom petals adorned Adam's grave, now hidden beneath the lush green grass below the tree.

     One spring, when the tree was at its most beautiful and the blossoms rained down upon the yard like soft pink snow, the sky fell dark. The winds picked up and the clouds crowded among themselves and a tornado touched down upon the neighborhood. Swirling and angry, it lifted the tree from its roots and flipped it onto its side in the yard. When the funnel had fled and the skies cleared, the family emerged from their shelter to see the destruction. Having nothing more to give to the tree that had once stood over Adam’s grave, they cut it down and the planks they made into a house for their new dog.

     Adam's grave now stands bare, forgotten among the grass in the yard. His successor, Chris, stands watch over the family, guarding his house and the lot from all threats to come.

(image of an apple tree, standing alone)

Author's note: This story was massively rewritten from the original. I wanted to translate the story of Lot and the Tree of Adam into a suburban setting that seemed ordinary next its ancient sacred source material. In the story, the tree is planted over the grave of the ancestral Adam, and Lot has to water the tree to atone for his sins. At every turn he finds that he is thwarted in this endeavor by the devil who keeps drinking his water in the guise of a poor peasant. Because he failed his task out of kindness to thirsty strangers, angels ended up watering the tree and Lot was forgiven. Later, the tree is cut down and used to make the cross that Jesus died on. In my story, I replaced Lot with the three children who lived in the neighborhood. They weren’t atoning for anything. They just wanted to do a good deed. Because they’re children, however, they weren’t exactly super resolute in their duty and forgot that they were supposed to water the tree. The homeless man stands in for the angels when he sees that the water was meant for the tree and gives it his last bit from the bucket.

Lot and the Tree of the Cross by J. E. Hanauer