The politicians say, “we need higher standards.” The schools say, “we need more money and equipment.” Educators say one thing, and teachers say another. They are all wrong. The only people who understand what is going on are the ones most often blamed and least often heard: the students. They say, “math class is stupid and boring,” and they are right.

Brilliantly written and very interesting. On page 4, when the guy puts a line through the triangle in the box, and then finds out what implications this has for his question… I have to admit, I almost got a tear in my eye. It blew my mind. Then, on page 5, my heart just sank. It was like someone fed me my favorite ice cream (just think about it, maybe with cookie chunks. Maybe with sprinkles. Creamy. Delicious. Maybe some hot fudge drizzled on too) and then told me that they were feeding all of the children in the world frozen card-board drizzled with motor oil so they would “get the idea” of what ice-cream is like. Just read it and see for yourself… seriously…

I get really bored in my Monday meetings. Today I made some little cave man paintings on my release candidates sheet and took pictures with my iPhone.

I fiddle with the control knob for one of the city’s street cameras.

“22 10, 22 10″ the police scanner blirps to life “10th and Broadway.”

The display to my left transcribes the words in cool green and behind me the tape deck spins to life recording every word. Bright white translation appears below the police code, “Routine traffic stop”. Some idle chit-chat back and forth between the dispatcher and the officer and the driver is sent on their way.

Things don’t normally heat up until about 1am. It’s only 11pm. I haven’t even put on the Bat Suit yet. I don’t want to put it on too soon. Sort of daring someone to do something so I can use it. It’s my first run. I guess I don’t even know if there will be a run. I haven’t decided if I should put it on before I hear something come over the scanner or not. Something serious enough for me to actually go out only happens about once a week according to Alfred.

He’s been monitoring the lines for the past three months. Recording data. Testing out the systems. Logging bugs for me to patch. I had to learn C++ in order to write all the programs to run this beast. Took me six months to get it all going. If it weren’t for Linux I’d still be hacking together the basic framework for the most rudimentary shell of my shiny new eye in the sky.

“Tea sir?” Alfred asks as the doors to the elevator close behind him and he enters the room. “I find it helps clear my head, what with all these humming monstrosities chirping away in this echoey old dungeon.”

“Thanks Alfred. No caffeine though…”

I sit back in my chair, and sip on the tea. Chamomile. Interesting choice. I would have chosen raspberry, but it’s hot and that’s all that matters. It was hell putting in the de-humidifiers for this beast. This cave is so dank, I was afraid it wouldn’t be good. Luckily I don’t have to worry about it over-heating since it’s constantly cold down here.

Hrm… I should come up with a name for this thing. It’s a monster. I’m Batman, so it should be… the Batmonster? Bat Mainframe? Batframe? Batachine? Bataputer? Batputer? Booter? Ba-

“4 11! 4 11!” A scared voice rings out over the scanner.

I know without looking, robbery in progress, shots fired, officer down. Probably going to be a high-speed chase. This is it!

Crap! I’m not in my suit!

I leap to my feet, chair goes flying off behind me into the darkness– and over the edge of the chasm 20 feet behind me, down into the depths of the cave splashing 150 feet below into a subterranian lake. CRAP. I KNEW I should have put in that railing…

I go bounding off towards the dressing room (batressing room?) tearing off my shirt as I go. I kick off my shoes and fight with my jeans as they get caught around my ankles.

Calm down.

I pull on the pants of the costume (Bat-ostume? Batsume? Hrmm… Bat Suit!) Erm… A bit tighter than I remembered. Am I going to look like a big gay idiot? Everyone’s going to laugh at me. I’m in skin tight pants. I might as well be naked. Is some big spandex guy trying to dress up like a bat really going to scare anyone?

Too late to think about that now, this is a serious situation. Plus I look awesome. I’m ripped like Arnold. I’m covered in spikes, and man look a that cape! The way it swishes when I move! Plus no one is going to see me long enough to notice anything other the fact that they just got punched in the face by a giant bat-dude.

Bah! Stupid gloves… Gotta remember, belt THEN gloves. This clasp is a pain. The fabric keeps getting pinched when I try and fasten it…

GO!

I run back to my car (Bat car? Bat wheels?) and jump in the open top, which slides sweetly shut over my head (watch the ears) and clicks closed with a satisfying sound (ka-CHINK!).

Press the big shiny red button, and everything jumps to life. The text of the police logs scrolling quickly fast and I can only barely keep up. My GPS blinks on and Alfred has already primed it with the details. The obligitory british woman’s voice serenely narrating my directions to me, estimating my arrival time at 20 minutes. It will all be over by then. I’ll drive really fast, like… 150mph… maybe more. I’ll get there in time…

I don’t. I get stuck on the free-way. Some sort of traffic jam. Semi-overturned. Some cop got a lucky shot off and ended the whole thing five minutes after I left the underground garage (bat-arage? Batcave?).

People are oggling the car (Bat ride? Batmobile!). I must admit it is amazing, but people aren’t really supposed to see it doing less than 90. I gotta find a better route or something…

I stick it out and cruise around downtown hoping lightning strikes twice. It doesn’t. I go home and go to bed. Being Batmans not going to be quite like what I expected…

———————————————————

This is based on the beginning of a dream I had last night. I dream I’m Batman, but all it ammounts to is that I can never seem to get to the place that the crimes are happening fast enough to do anything about them.

I have costume trouble, and it takes me forever to get out of the cave. Or I get stuck in traffic. Or it ends too quickly and I’m on the wrong side of town. The police are too good at what they do, and I’m not fast enough.

Hope you enjoyed…

Todays picture was inspired by “The Alchemist”. Do a clever enough google search and you may be able to find it as a free download from iTunes for the next week or so, brilliantly read by Jeremy Irons.

This was an exercise in using my Wacom tablet, which I’ve had for years, but never mastered. I tried some of my new knowledge of perspective out a little bit too (mostly with the wall. I could never figure out how to get the land/sea horizons to work well together and look right. If you look real close, and you’ve read the book, you can see the bench the boy and the king sat on, as well as a pyramid on the horizon.

I used Paint.NET. First I sketched the whole thing out in blue. Then I added some perspective lines. Then I kind of “traced” it in black. I wasn’t sure where to go from there… so I stopped… Plus I need to get back to work now…

Here’s the stages of creation side by side by side (Sketch, perspective lines, final):

Smoke and bile be pourin forth from twixt it’s grimy pondrous stones. Not one poor sould did come back from that place.

Long ago them that sent heroes off to that thing would say there be a princess, or maybe treasure, or some other foolery like that. But the truth were far different from that it were. No more be they sendin young heroes off to their ignorant deaths. No, let me tell you what horrors lie ahead.

Not nigh but five thousand short years ago Gorganks tore flesh and broke bones to raise up that monstrousity. Cut out tongues of those what nay-said him he did. Worked them poor folk day and night, no torches nor candles to see by.

Listen closely and you do still hear them screams of what that fell from it’s twisted heights, plunging into the black bubbly goo smack at the bottom. Dead for they even hit the ooze from those noxious fumes what filled their aching lungs.

When built up that tower they did, atop they painted a great big eye. Gorganks a-swore he’d watch them all from them rocky hieghts. Loft emself up with them great black bat-wings to the top where for some time he sat.

Watch them he did.

Those what didn’t fall from there, nor get crushed by the stones Gorganks hurled at them to build ever more, didn’t know whatsabout to put themselves to do once that building were done.

But Gorganks did. Plans he had for them.

Deep in the bowels of the pitted caves of the earth for three decades Gorganks bred dog spiders. Released them he did.

Gorganks set the lot of them poor peasant builders free, if only they could reach the bottom. Away they crawled and limped. Starving and broken and bruised and bleeding dragging themselves through the twisted paths of Gorganks evil lair. Till about half way down they got, and so met the dog spiders come up from below. Their deaths were swift and Gorganks howled with evil pleasure as watch it all he did.

No one knows what happened after that. Some say Gorganks got eaten by the very spiders. Others say he flew away to some other town to torture them that live there too. Some say up there, somewhere, he still be.

All that’s known is that my great grandaddy escape to the forest nearby he did. Found a few good others with him living there. They dared not leave the shelter of the trees. Few who did went to Gorganks tower to free us from the hordes of dog-spiders pour forth from there each summer. Gone to kill the queen they said. Gone to their deaths the lot of em.

Now each summer the Oracle picks one hearty boy, seventeen summers old, to brave the heights. Not one has ever returned, but it always keeps them spiders away.

This summer young Pedrick. This summer that youth be you. Here is your spear and shield. The whole villiage is gathered round about, and we turn our backs on you now. Look one last time at your mothers face, and now be gone with you. May God grant you a good death.”

And with that old Rinktle  handed the young horror-stricken Pedrick his spear and sheild, patted him on the shoulder, and turned his back on him. The whole village looked at the ground and did likewise. Pedrick looked pleadingly at his mother, as one small tear rolled down her cheek, and turned as well.

And so Pedrick, setting his jaw and gripping his spear turned his own way, toward the path denied him all his youth. The path not talked about in the villiage. The dark path where the morning fog came from. The over-grown path no living thing was ever seen down. The path where Pedrick would meet his fate. Maybe even meet his doom. He took his first step and his journey was begun.

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All that was inspired by this little lego fort I built during our dept. metting:

We were debating whether or not to get new ones anyways, and this sort of seals it.

Not his best work, but Hood by Stephen R. Lawhead is a good read. It’s the first of a trilogy, and it mostly just sets up the background story and kind of ends just when it is really beginning.

I’ll reserve final judgement until the other two books come out, but it looks like he is going to have a decent trilogy here.

My favorite of his books was Byzantium (awesome book, 5/5) followed by the Song of Albion trilogy (4.5/5), and the six book Pendragon cycle (which was about King Arthur, and was pretty awesome, 4/5).

All in all, you usually don’t go wrong with a Lawhead book, although some of them can be a bit slow at times…