Last night I returned home from a six-day trip to Baton Rouge and New Orleans for a capoeira workshop with Mestre Gulliver. Of course, I can study with him any time here in New York, but not for five days straight, and not with my friends from Nashville and Louisiana. I have approximately 5 zillion photos to upload to Flickr, about 1/5 of which are on Facebook.
Not that long ago, I realized that I am no longer nervous in the roda most of the time. I think that has helped my play. But my game has also gotten much better because I'm beginning to have a better grasp of the dynamics of it, and I've started to internalize the movements. I actually managed to easily take someone down in tesoro this weekend, something I couldn't have done as long as I had to think about the mechanics of it. It's nice to see improvement.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
They kiss? Eeeeew ...
I'm not necessarily surprised when people disagree about whether a book is good or not. Sometimes, I understand their objections (or its appeal) without agreeing. And then there are those times when I wonder if they even read the same book I did.
I just finished N.K. Jemisin's The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, a fantasy novel about a young woman who, after the death of her disinherited mother, is called to the capital to be named one of three heirs to the empire. It was, in my opinion, an engrossing book, novel more in its mythology than in the storyline or voice.
But plenty of reviewers disagreed. One complaint I saw reiterated was that it started off as a fine fantasy novel but then veered off and became, ugh, a romance. This is ridiculous on several levels. First, there is a kiss early on in the book. That should lead an attentive reader to expect more of that later. Second, it wasn't a romance in the girl+guy=happy coupledom. There is some nookie, yes. There is some love, yes - but remember that "love" doesn't just mean romantic love. It means loving your mom, loving your family, loving your God, even loving humankind. Let's just say the love in this book is of the more complicated kind. Third, for goodness sakes, if spec fic readers can handle Heinlein, they ought to be able to handle this. Does sex from the lady's angle have cooties or something?
The other baffling complaint I saw more than once was that this novel was written in a pretentious, confusing style. Based on this, I was expecting something like James Joyce. Instead, what I found was an almost completely straightforward first-person narrative. There is an occasional flashback, which shouldn't confound any reader over the age of 6. The only narrative device that was remotely non-khaki was a series of conversations that occasionally interrupt the main narrative. It's not entirely clear at first who the main character is talking to in these. Kuh-razy, I know, right? Not. Orson Scott Card did essentially the same thing in Ender's Game, and I don't recall anyone saying that book was treading in pretentious literary waters.
I could speculate on why the book drew some of this reaction, but I won't. Your takeaway: Some people are dumb. This is a pretty good book. That is all.
I just finished N.K. Jemisin's The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, a fantasy novel about a young woman who, after the death of her disinherited mother, is called to the capital to be named one of three heirs to the empire. It was, in my opinion, an engrossing book, novel more in its mythology than in the storyline or voice.
But plenty of reviewers disagreed. One complaint I saw reiterated was that it started off as a fine fantasy novel but then veered off and became, ugh, a romance. This is ridiculous on several levels. First, there is a kiss early on in the book. That should lead an attentive reader to expect more of that later. Second, it wasn't a romance in the girl+guy=happy coupledom. There is some nookie, yes. There is some love, yes - but remember that "love" doesn't just mean romantic love. It means loving your mom, loving your family, loving your God, even loving humankind. Let's just say the love in this book is of the more complicated kind. Third, for goodness sakes, if spec fic readers can handle Heinlein, they ought to be able to handle this. Does sex from the lady's angle have cooties or something?
The other baffling complaint I saw more than once was that this novel was written in a pretentious, confusing style. Based on this, I was expecting something like James Joyce. Instead, what I found was an almost completely straightforward first-person narrative. There is an occasional flashback, which shouldn't confound any reader over the age of 6. The only narrative device that was remotely non-khaki was a series of conversations that occasionally interrupt the main narrative. It's not entirely clear at first who the main character is talking to in these. Kuh-razy, I know, right? Not. Orson Scott Card did essentially the same thing in Ender's Game, and I don't recall anyone saying that book was treading in pretentious literary waters.
I could speculate on why the book drew some of this reaction, but I won't. Your takeaway: Some people are dumb. This is a pretty good book. That is all.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
How are those goals coming?
It's been something over a month since I posted a list of goals to achieve before 40 on here. Not surprisingly, I haven't achieved any of them yet. Am I working towards them?
Be able to walk across a slackline: I'm waiting for warmer weather on this one.
Do macaco: I told my mestre yesterday that I want to learn macaco, and he said we'd work on it. But I need to be doing more on backbends on my own, like dropbacks.
Be fluent in Portuguese: Listening to a conversation among native speakers the other day showed me how far from fluent I am. I can pick out a lot of words, but not follow the conversation.
Travel to Brazil: We're supposed to be doing that as a capoeira group this summer. I have the time and am working towards the money.
Have a novel published: Getting writing done.
Do the Annapurna Circuit: Nothing at all. I figure the Brazil expense is enough for this year, so it can wait.
Hold a handstand for a minute unaided: Still going to handstand class weekly, but making very slow progress. I'm not sure if it was heartening or disheartening when our teacher said the other day that it took her 7 years before she could tuck-up.
Successfully traverse the swing-a-ring: Another one I'm waiting for more cooperative weather on. I did go out and buy a chin-up bar, but, alas, my walls are too thick for me to mount it on the door. I should be doing more things like push-ups and dips.
Be able to walk across a slackline: I'm waiting for warmer weather on this one.
Do macaco: I told my mestre yesterday that I want to learn macaco, and he said we'd work on it. But I need to be doing more on backbends on my own, like dropbacks.
Be fluent in Portuguese: Listening to a conversation among native speakers the other day showed me how far from fluent I am. I can pick out a lot of words, but not follow the conversation.
Travel to Brazil: We're supposed to be doing that as a capoeira group this summer. I have the time and am working towards the money.
Have a novel published: Getting writing done.
Do the Annapurna Circuit: Nothing at all. I figure the Brazil expense is enough for this year, so it can wait.
Hold a handstand for a minute unaided: Still going to handstand class weekly, but making very slow progress. I'm not sure if it was heartening or disheartening when our teacher said the other day that it took her 7 years before she could tuck-up.
Successfully traverse the swing-a-ring: Another one I'm waiting for more cooperative weather on. I did go out and buy a chin-up bar, but, alas, my walls are too thick for me to mount it on the door. I should be doing more things like push-ups and dips.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Teh feminists got to me! Oh noes!
After reading Nicola Griffith's Ammonite and Sarah Hall's The Carhullan Army, I'm totally ready to go join a fightin' lesbian commune.
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