On screwing over one’s co-workers

imagesIt’s one of the oldest gripes about being a teacher: frequently it’s more work to stay home from school than to just go in sick, because writing lesson plans for a substitute teacher are such an incredible pain in the ass.  In my case, I have almost never during my career been able to write a week’s worth of lesson plans at a time with any fidelity, because what happens on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday has such an effect on what’s going to happen on Thursday and Friday and it’s almost never worth the effort to actually write the plans because they’re going to be useless anyway.

My situation right now: I haven’t been at work in over two weeks and I have literally no idea what my kids did last week, even though I did provide stuff for them the week before that.  I’ve been lucky enough to have the same sub the entire time, although when I called the office to let them know about the leave I was told that she wasn’t working out very well and I was asked not to request her again.  So… I’m basically going to write plans for this new person that are a list of procedures (that’s a copy-paste) and a request that she go talk to one of the other 5th grade math teachers at the earliest possible time to get actual lesson plans.  Because I have no idea what the hell to tell her to do.

The kicker, of course, is that since I’m on medical leave the office can’t make me either send in lesson plans or do any grading.  The problem is if I don’t do it, the rest of my team has to, and they sorta have their own shit to worry about, y’know?  I can handle the grading easily enough, I suppose, if I can get someone to bring the shit to me, but I’m really at the point where it’s literally impossible for me to write lesson plans, and as soon as they get somebody to actually take over the room (the leave allows them to actually hire someone at better than sub pay) I’ll give the grading back too.

I’m screwing the two 5th grade math and science teachers over, I know, by basically having to say “go ask them for stuff to do…” but we don’t have teacher’s editions and I have NO IDEA what the kids have been doing.  So.  Yeah.  Sorry about that?

PS: I forgot the punchline, which is that I wouldn’t be at work tomorrow anyway.  My mom, as you remember, had her hip replaced last week, and neither my aunt nor my dad is able to stay with her tomorrow, so I’d be doing that even if I was supposed to be back at work.  Whoops!

Sunday reggae break

#Review: SEVENEVES, by Neal Stephenson

seveneves-usHere is the first sentence of Neal Stephenson’s enormous, 880-page novel Seveneves:

The moon blew up without warning and for no apparent reason.

That, my friends, is a brilliant goddamn first sentence.  Brilliant.  I made a terrible mistake several years ago and let the Baroque Cycle be the first Neal Stephenson books I ever tried to read.  That meant I didn’t touch him for years until finally picking up Snow Crash just for the hell of it, and he’s rapidly becoming one of my favorite writers, to the point where I might re-attempt the Baroque Cycle books if I’m ever feeling crazy.

I’ve already written one post where I talk about the premise of this book, but since y’all don’t necessarily read every single thing I post let me recap:

The moon blows up.  That’s kind of a problem.  Humanity has to, on a real tight schedule, move enough people into permanent life in orbit (starting on the International Space Station, but rapidly adding on significantly) before the wrecked bits of the moon scour all life off of the planet in an event called the Hard Rain.

For 500 pages, it’s basically The Martian, except instead of one guy on Mars it’s what’s left of the entire human race on a space station.  The tone is very similar, though; lots of technical detail, lots of trying to be as realistic as possible given the circumstances, lots of holy shit this is gonna kill everybody if we don’t figure it out.  By the end of the first 500 pages, rather a lot has gone wrong and we are down to eight surviving humans, all women– one past childbearing age and seven others, the titular “Seven Eves” of the book.  One of them happens to be a geneticist, so it turns out that rebuilding the human race from seven women isn’t quite the difficulty one would expect it to be.

After those 500 pages the words “Five Thousand Years Later” appear, on a page by themselves.  And then there are over three hundred more pages.

Stop reading.

Close the book and put it on a shelf.  It was a great book.  Don’t read a single other word, because the epilogue, or whatever the hell I’ll call it– hell, it’s 300+ pages long, it’s an entire novel all by itself– and it is terrible.

It took me two weeks to read the first eight hundred pages of this book, and with thirty pages left this afternoon I closed it and put it away, because the epilogue was that ridiculous and nonsensical and just plain bad.  Literally pages and pages of unnecessary description and backstory and nonsense in between individual lines of dialogue from time to time.  A book that has been careful to establish scientific and cultural plausibility for its entire running length suddenly stops making any sense at all.  It’s not just bad, it’s hacky, and it’s stunning that Neal Stephenson wrote it, much less that he felt it was a worthy add-on to the rest of the book.

I four-starred it on Goodreads, and the first 500 pages are good enough that you should buy the book anyway.  Hell, the first 500 pages would be on my shortlist for the best books of 2015, easily, if it weren’t for the albatross at the end.  Don’t get me wrong: I recommend you read this.  But that’s because I figure once you’ve read 500+ pages you’ve already gotten your money’s worth.  Just don’t touch anything past then, because I’ve never seen a novel go off the rails this badly.

A few announcements of less than staggering importance

venus-topFIRST!  That upon careful consideration of the known elements of the story, the in-progress sequel to Skylights, formerly known as Starlight, has been renamed to Sunlight.  While I am not officially participating in NaNoWriMo– in other words, you won’t be able to find an account for me on the site anywhere– I expect to be caught up on a 5oK words in November pace by the end of the evening tonight.  I hope to have Sunlight‘s first draft finished before winter break, or at least before what would be winter break if I was currently working at a school.  The progress bar is over there to your right, and you can expect that to be updated frequently as the month rolls on.  The name of the third book remains the same, and also remains a secret, because I like pretending I am important and keeping secrets from people.

SECOND!  The Sanctum of the Sphere still remains free, and will stay as such through the end of the night tonight.  Its performance provides me with further evidence that the best sign of how good a free book is going to do on any given day is how busy Amazon in general is– the book is higher ranked than Skylights was the last time I made it free, or at least close to it, but Skylights had an even hundred copies downloaded over the course of the day and Sanctum is currently sitting at twelve.  That’s ebb and flow at Amazon and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Go download it anyway!

THIRD!  Which is MORE THAN TWO, but SO WHAT!  I keep forgetting what the third announcement is supposed to be.  Oh, right!  I currently have my next three books planned out, which is vaguely ridiculous.  I expect Sunlight to be out in or around April of 2016, then the next Benevolence Archives book in fall of 2016, which will be a novel-length short story collection, and then in April of 2017 a stand-alone science fiction novel called The Imorah Protocol.  I am considering moving Imorah into 2016 and pushing back the next BA book a bit.  I don’t know who will care about this, but I’m telling you anyway!

Actually, I probably have my next five books planned out, because after whatever’s in early 2017 would be the third and final Skylights book, and then my fantasy novel that I have no idea for yet but I really want to write.  That means I’m set until late 2018!  That’s completely ridiculous!

That is all.

While I’m lecturing all the white people…

Had this conversation on Facebook yesterday, regarding this story, in my Bruce Banner alter ego, which is why it’s all censored to hell.  I’m in blue and she, a former student, is in black.  This is why representation is important, guys.  This is why #weneeddiversebooks is important.  Right here:

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Just sayin’.  And now I gotta find a way for Jayashree to survive that fight.  🙂

#WeekendCoffeeShare: Now What edition

weekend-coffee-share

If we were having coffee, I’d probably be talking about books.  I’m thisclose to being finished with the Neal Stephenson book I’ve been pounding away at for what seems like forever but is probably only about a week and a half (checks Goodreads; two weeks on the nose) and once I have it finished I have books by damn near every favorite author I have sitting on the shelf waiting for me.  Seriously, check the list: Salman Rushdie, Chuck Wendig, Matt Wallace, Cherie Priest, Seanan McGuire, Tana French, Stephen King, and that’s just the ones I can remember.  Plus a couple of books by new authors I’m excited about and some intriguing nonfiction.

My unread shelf may be a little bigger than usual right now.

Seveneves is definitely getting a review in this space, because it’s fantastic and broken in a very interesting way, and I’d probably dance around it without actually spoiling anything because that’s what the review’s for.

I might mention that Fallout 4 comes out this week, and that buying Fallout 4 may well represent the last money I’m allowed to spend on myself in 2015, because as of yesterday I’m on medical leave until January of 2016.  Yep, the rest of the semester.

That, uh, might halt the talk about geekery and books and video games.  But it means that the Skylights sequel is sure as hell gonna come out on time, because WTF else am I going to have to do with myself?  I don’t know how to be on medical leave.  I don’t know how to behave, especially since I tend to report damn near every life activity on this here blog and I’m kinda paranoid that somebody’s gonna be all hey did you hear he did this while he was on medical leave is he allowed to do that???

Mental illness is a bitch, y’all, even the kind I have, where I kinda feel like I’m overstating the case by even calling it mental illness, but apparently I’m mentally ill enough that both my family doctor and my therapist signed paperwork stating that I can’t go back to work until we figure the panic attacks and anxiety disorder out, which they expect to take until the middle of January.  And yet 90% of the time, I’m fine.  It’s just that that other ten percent is fucking awful and rather annoyingly difficult to predict, and it tends to interfere with my ability to reliably teach children.

But yeah.  Enough of that; I’m tired of talking about my brain on here.  Let’s talk about how Sanctum of the Sphere is free today and how everyone who hasn’t yet should download it.  Let’s talk about Dark Souls 2, which I have to somehow put to bed before I start playing Fallout (yeah, right) and how seeing a video about a little game called CounterSpy on Penny Arcade got me to buy it and I’m having more fun playing it than I did Metal Gear Solid V.

Let’s talk about how I keep adding new comic books, and how I’m gonna have to pare that down what with the loss of income, but holy crap guys are comic books good right now.

Anything but my stupid brain.  I’m tired of that.  And as it turns out, I have plenty of free time for other stuff now.

#FeministFriday: Advice for #NotAllMen on How to Occasionally be Less of an Asshole

shut_up__listen_and_learn_by_cdckey-d4afs9aA couple of weeks ago I was at the doctor’s office.  They have a receptionist who is, oh, I dunno, in her mid-twenties and generally fairly lovely.

Since the last time I was in there (I’ve been spending my share of time at the doctor’s office lately) she’d dyed her hair grey.  I’ve come to understand that that’s becoming a thing.  If so, I approve.

As I was waiting, an elderly woman emerged from her appointment and engaged this young lady in conversation about her hair.  She was quite complimentary about it.

Damn right, I thought.  The grey hair looked great on her.

And I didn’t say a word about it to anyone.

Why?

Here is a rule for men who want to be either better people or better feminists, and frequently I have found that those two goals overlap:  practice the fine art of keeping your opinion to yourself a bit more often.  You will be surprised at how much it helps!  And, here’s the awesome part: never once will keeping your trap shut about your opinion on a stranger’s appearance be harmful.  Not once!  Not ever!

Is it entirely possible that me telling this young woman (a good fifteen years younger than me, if undeniably an adult, so I think I can get away with that title) would have made her feel good for a few moments?  Sure!  Sometimes people like getting compliments from strangers.  This is true!

It is also possible that at work is not a place where she’s particularly interested in getting opinions from strange men on her decisions about her hair.  Is this gender-specific?  Not necessarily.  While she was gracious to the old lady, she could have been gritting her teeth on the inside.  It’s possible that the old lady was the 44th person that day to tell her she liked her hair and it was getting aggravating.  (True story!  I once snapped at someone for saying Happy Birthday to me, because I’d heard it so many times that day it was starting to sound like an insult.)

Simple fact, dude: She doesn’t need your opinion on her hair.  She didn’t need my opinion on her hair.  She’s at work.  She’s not very much in the be complimented by fat bald married men on her hair zone.  There are literally no circumstances under which I would tell, say, the male nurse, or the dude sitting across from me in the waiting room, that I liked his hair.  So there should also be literally no circumstances under which I tell the female receptionist my opinion on her body.

But I don’t mean to be creepy!  I just want to give her a compliment!

Doesn’t matter, shut up.  A thing I tell my students on a fairly regular basis: your opinion is not necessary here.  Similarly, it is virtually never the case that my opinion is necessary on someone’s appearance, even if that opinion is a positive one.  If there’s even a tiny chance that me talking to her about her appearance is going to make her uncomfortable– and there is way more than a tiny chance of that— then I need to keep my opinion to myself.

But how do I get to know people if I don’t approach them in public, you ask?

Maybe go to places where people meet each other.  I hear good things about parties and clubs and bars.  There are probably other places, too!  But here’s the thing: even in those places, maybe you don’t start with the body talk?  Find something else about the person other than their body to start the conversation with, if you can.  You never know!  It might work out!

She’s at work.  Leave her the hell alone.


16b138fIt is, in fact, rather astonishing how often the “Shut Up” rule works well for men when dealing with feminist issues.  I know, guys: as men, and particularly as white men for those of us who are both, we’re used to society valuing our opinion– to the point where we’ve allowed ourselves to believe a conversation isn’t complete until we’ve weighed in on it.

Here is a thing that every woman alive knows more about than every white man alive: being a woman.  Therefore: if a woman is discussing her experiences and her opinions about her own womanhood with or (especially) near you, it is probably best if you shut the hell up and listen.  This is particularly true if you disagree with her.  If she tells you someone catcalls her every time she leaves the house, and you were with her one time and nobody catcalled, maybe you keep your mouth shut about that.  Because you know what?  Other dudes saw her with a dude.  Which means she was already owned by somebody.  And they kept their mouths shut, because that one was taken.

She. Knows. Better. Than. You. About. Being. A. Woman.

What, you’ve never catcalled a woman?  Have a cookie; hopefully you can bake them on your own.  Shut up anyway.

Are there women who like having things shouted at them by random men?  Sure.  There are also people who think voting for Ben Carson is a good idea.  There’s lots of crazy ideas out there.  But we’re talking about your behavior here, and unless the woman is wearing a sign saying “PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT MY CLOTHES AND BODY” you probably ought to assume that she’s not interested in what you have to say.  Note that wearing revealing clothing is not the same thing as wearing a sign inviting comment.

Dude, all these goddamn rules.  How the hell do I even talk to women anymore?  Feminists are so fucking touchy!

Pretend she’s a dude.  If you wouldn’t say anything to a dude under that circumstance, chances are you probably shouldn’t say it to her.  You ever walked past a guy on the street and told him he should smile once in a while?  No?

Don’t say it to women.

There’s nothing new in this post at all, by the way.  If you happen to be reading it and nodding your head and thinking shit, this makes some sense, you probably should have been listening to women, because they’ve said this to you before– they’ve said it to all of us— and you didn’t listen.  You’ve never seen my cock, I promise, so I have no idea why it makes the stuff I say more worthy of attention than it would be if someone without one had said it, but unfortunately that’s how it works in American society right now.

So, yeah.  Shut up.

#Fridayfictioneers: Please Do Not Touch

wired
PHOTO PROMPT – © Connie Gayer …(Mrs. Russell)

“Don’t touch it.  It could be live.”

“Live? Live how?  What’s it attached to?”

We looked around.  There was nothing electrical for miles in any direction. Millions of them, if you didn’t count our ship.  And this cut, half-buried wire definitely didn’t run to our ship.

“I’m gonna pull on it,” Tyreena said.

“Are you nuts? It could–”

“Could what?” she interrupted. “This rock’s lifeless. And someone’s, what, running power to the bathrooms? It fell off our ship. Had to. I’m pulling.”

A moment later, a flash and a sizzle, and the population of Galeb-IV was one fewer.

Word Count:  99


Friday Fictioneers is a weekly blog hop hosted by Rochelle. She posts a photo prompt then challenges readers to write a 100 word story inspired by the prompt. It’s a fun challenge. Give it a try! Check here for the info then write your story and post it, link up and enjoy the other stories!