On Writing

A guy like me, who's been in college for almost four years and has another year coming up, tends to start thinking about his career.

Yeah, understatement, right? So as I was reading my latest novel which I'm probably doomed not to finish (this seems to be problem lately; currently it's Peter Straub's Ghost Story which I got on a whim at a thrift store), I considered the career of a writer.

That's a lie. I actually started considering it like four or five months ago, after finishing the seventh Harry Potter book. So after that I continued down a path in some lovely, dark, deep woods which terminated with me changing my major to English. I began brainstorming about what I could do with that major. Most of my (English Major) friends are either going to Grad School or teaching. Well, I'm not doing teaching licensure, so that rules that out. And I've got to be super-serious to do English Grad School, which...well, yeah. They tell me that English Majors are actually a whole lot more versatile than all that, which I hope is true. So what about writing?

One of my favorite things to do when I'm reading stories by my favorite authors is to read their introductions. More times than not, there is some little morsel of information about how their creative process works and how their ideas get out of their heads. Not "how they get their ideas," that's a silly question asked by silly people. One of the most common things I've noticed about these writers is they pretty much consistently write something every day.

W-wait. Every day? It should be clear to whoever is reading this that according to the length of time between this post and the previous one that I certainly don't write every day. Unless you consider typing up Instant Messages as a form of writing. You don't? Well neither do I.

This is a similar conundrum that came over me during the years I was a Graphic Design Major. Most of the artists and designers I read about had a near-constant stream of creativity flowing from them. Graphically creative things came out of me, but only about twice a month, and usually because Ms. Schoen didn't accept late work. That's a bit less grave than it sounds. Anyone who knows me would probably agree that I'm a creative-minded individual, but I'm not very prolific when it comes to finished works.

So what's the point of this entry? Well, I don't want my blogspot to turn into some kind of a hub for griping and uncertainties. I guess then it would be a Glob, or even worse, an Un-Glob. Probably the next entry will contain funny pictures and witticisms. I suppose I just needed to publicly vent a little on the Nature of Creativity and its Relationship with Luke Jones. I'm sort of in a well of confusion, since my ideal career is one where my creativity and desire to learn is fulfilled, but most of the times careers like that (a novelist, for example) require a lot of personal drive and self-selling, things which frankly I just don't really have. I'd rather go eat tacos with Alex, play Metroid or look up trivial information on obscure 1980s toylines. And I refuse to feel an iota of guilt over that.

I look at my dad and he went to school at Web, a place where people learn architecture and nothing else. Despite my family's inability to make up their minds on a place to live, he's always had the same career, has loved it, and has gotten enough sustenance from it to allow us to live very comfortably my entire life. Now that's something I would like.

I just hope I can find it with five years of college and an English Major under my belt.

So if you'll excuse me, I have a Wii Classic Controller and 2000 Wii points which need to be opened and used.

Dragoncon 2007 OR How Important a Balloon Becomes When One Has Been Standing In Line All Day

2007 has truly been the Year of Conventions for Luke Jones. I'm no stranger to these unusual groupings of weird people from all over, but I have never been to so many of them in one year. Not only that, but each convention I've attended this year has increased exponentially each time. Botcon, for example, usually gathers a few thousand unwashed Transformers fanatics. My second 'con this year, Otakon, saw around 20,000 insufferable Japanophiles pass through its doors.

This third one, Dragoncon, sauteed Otakon with a light Botcon sauce and served them to me on a Star Trek Collector's Plate. I had no idea it was the largest and most massive nerd convention in the world before I was actually there. It apparently even beats out the immortal Comic-Con by sheer numbers. And it doesn't make any limits as to what kind of social outcast can attend; this convention saw everyone from ren-fair types to trekkies to stormtroopers (see picture) to goths, all the way to LARPers and--yes--Furries.

The 'con, which takes place in Atlanta every year, spreads over four days of dorky madness, and, like a zombie holocaust, has infected its way across three gigantic hotels. I heard a bewildered attendee mention the attendance being in the 60,000 area. I might mention that at least a third of these attendees were in costume.

And what costumes! I saw everything from Slave Leia to Fox McCloud to the Wicked Witch of the West (the pictures of which I will be posting on Facebook). We missed the Stormtrooper/Slave Leia parade, and Robert and I drooled over joining the "501st Legion," a group of Star Wars fans who make movie-quality Stormtrooper costumes and appear at charities and nerd conventions. The cost of making a costume was too exorbitant for our current statuses, however.

But before we got to enjoy all of the wonders of Dragoncon, we had to undergo one of the foremost nerd convention traditions: waiting on line. My friend Tyler's dad, who was graciously allowing us to stay at his house (since Tyler lives in Atlanta) decided not to purchase advance tickets, and didn't quite realize the scope of the event. Thus, we began our long wait.

The amazingly long line had two thrilling segments, one which snaked around the building (during which Robert, Tyler, and I explored the no-badge-required areas of the hotels), and a second which filled up a large room inside the Hyatt (seen above). This was the most mind-numbingly long line I have ever waited on. During the wait, an intelligent individual inflated a balloon and sent it flying over the crowd. The resulting obsession over keeping the balloon in the air truly revealed the insanity of people who have done nothing but stand for hours. A second balloon soon revealed itself, a smaller red one. This balloon didn't last very long, and upon its destruction, the crowd's boos and hisses were heard throughout the building, and the perpetrator of the balloon-popping was raised up on a steel crucifix, amidst the exultation of the children. A raven from hades was sent to gouge out his eyes. I'll let you decide how much of that previous segment was true.

In the center of the room, visible to those who had made it over halfway through the line, was a large flat-screen television, playing various home-movie segments and pseudo-commercial bumpers which would have made Adult Swim proud. Nearby were two long tables, alternately littered with discarded soft drink bottles and sign-up forms, upon the reverse sides of which were scrawled the miserable woes of the masses. I took one, hastily wrote "WHO WATCHES THE WATCHMEN," which I considered to be a worthy comic book reference, and moved on.

Most of my experience at the convention involved trying to find the most absurd or well-made costumes, and trying not to look at the 45-year-old women in fishnets. The rest was exploring the two floors of dealer rooms, and attempting to convince Brent Spiner that I wasn't a jerk.

Oddly enough, though Dragoncon is larger than Comic-Con, the celebrity roster wasn't too impressive. Most of them were stars of various sci-fi shows and movies, including Star Trek (Brent Spiner, Jonathan Frakes); Star Wars (Ray Park; David Prowse; Peter Mayhew; that one guy who got force choked in the first movie); Farscape (most of the cast); Battlestar Galactica, Beast Master, etc. Three actors from the Harry Potter movies were present, namely the gentlemen who play the Weasley twins, and the young man who plays Neville, sporting a frightening 5-o-clock shadow.

I came back from this convention with three Godzilla poster reproductions, a camera full of pictures, and a significant boost in self-esteem. I will definitely go again.

Obituary for the World's Only Reliable Newspaper

Ever since I was but a wee lad, I've always been fascinated by the completely absurd headlines screaming at me under the name "WEEKLY WORLD NEWS." Whether they claim that the president is actually an alien in league with bigfoot or are reporting on the latest exploits of a certain vampire lad, I never got tired of what sort of insane stories the WWN were perpetrating as truth.

That's why when, as I was reading The Onion (ironically enough), I was faintly horrified to discover that, as of August 3, 2007, the WWN would cease publication. I did some quick searching to verify that this was true, discovered that it was, and sat back to drink this in. I recall scanning the magazines in a supermarket one day, wearily reading the headlines about this or that celebrity enduring rehab or having babies, and then my eyes fell on the headline "GIANT BATS ATTACK AIRPLANE." It was strangely refreshing, knowing that at least one tabloid doesn't take itself so seriously.

I also appreciated the irony of their slogan, "The World's Only Reliable Newspaper." It rings somewhat true, considering that one can always rely on WWN's stories to be ludicrous. They will never let you down. And come on, who can argue that heavy-handed political cartoons or reports on the latest mistakes our government is making are more awesome than "Man stabs himself to death with toothbrush." No one, that's who.

WWN has drawn my eyes ever since I was tiny, and I seem to remember that it wasn't the only tabloid reporting on how Bill Gates was hiding the loch ness monster. I wasn't so surprised, then, when I read on WWN's wikipedia article that one large corporation bought most of the tabloids in publication, and promptly changed them all to celebrity-reporting rags.

Sigh.

I'm really gonna miss that stupid paper.

WEEKLY WORLD NEWS, 1979-2007