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Title: The Disappearing Island
Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale/Cthulhu Mythos
Author: tikistitch
Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Cecil/Carlos
Warnings: Cursing, sexual situations
Word Count: ~36,000 total
Summary: Carlos, a naturalist on board the HMS Vigilant, stumbles upon the ancient island of Nightlantis during a tour of the Pacific in the 1800s. There he unwittingly joins in a contest to win the beguiling Prince Cecil's hand in marriage.
Notes: At the end.
Carlos had borrowed a pair of hounds from the hooded figures once again. Although progress had been agonizingly slow, with Babbage's help he had managed to clear away the debris from the staircase inside Vansten's library. And so at last he ventured down towards the lower levels of Nightlantis, intent on picking up on Thurston's trail.

The ground shook intermittently as the island prepared to once again sink beneath the waves, the tremors growing more violent, and more frequent.

Worst of all, Carlos was aware that his seven days would be up in mere hours, meaning the portal would reopen, and he would have his only chance of getting home.

He was now down far enough on the lower levels that it had grown uncomfortably hot. He had discarded Cecil's borrowed jacket, hoping that he could soon apologize for the slight, shouldered his pack, and continued on downwards, face now dripping with perspiration. Down on these lower levels was yet more machinery, but it was stilled. It had a strange symmetry to it: god knows what it was all for, or who had built it. It looked like it hadn't been used in ages, and was covered with layers of rust.

Unfortunately, when he had gotten innumerable levels down, the trail suddenly ran cold. The hounds whined, but ran around in circles.

Carlos he felt the familiar odd prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He stood with the dogs on a leash. “Please, I need your help,” he said.

Tamika stepped forward from the shadows, wearing her mismatched clothes. The redheaded boy, Barton, was beside her. They stopped a short distance from Carlos. There were many other children arrayed around him now.

“You helped me before,” Carlos pleaded. “Before I went to confront the librarian.”

Tamika and Barton exchanged a skeptical glance. “That's right. We hate those stupid librarians. But why should we help you again?” Tamika asked.

“Because I need to rescue Prince Cecil.”

Tamkia and Barton burst into giggles and nudged each other, which further tried Carlos's rapidly thinning patience. “Oh, what is it?” he demanded.

“Why? Because you looooooove him?” Tamika taunted.

“Ewwwww!” chimed in Barton.

As the ground trembled once again, Carlos shook his head in frustration. “We share a mutual affection, yes. And what's wrong with that?”

“Mushy!” called Barton.

“Well, I am sorry that romantic feelings are considered to be 'mushy' in your world view. But the fact remains, if we do not rescue Cecil from Thurston, your entire island may be destroyed!”

“Thurston?” asked Tamika, her dark eyes narrowing in derision. “He's a real jerk.”

“He's a jerk,” agreed Barton.

“Although I would fain call attention to others's weaknesses,” said Carlos. “Yes. He is … a real jerk.”

“Give us a minute,” said Tamika. She signaled, and several children gathered around for a whispered conversation. After a frustrating moment, they turned back to face Carlos. “All right. We'll escort you down to the lower levels. That's where … they are sleeping. We think that's where he must've taken your boyfriend.” The children burst into more giggles as Carlos rolled his eyes.

“He is your boyfriend, right?” asked Barton.

“Yes, Cecil is my boyfriend.”

“Did you kiss him?” asked another child.

Carlos was going to tell them exactly why it was none of their business, but decided to keep his temper for the moment. “Yes, we have kissed.”

“On the lips?”

There was a hearty round of children groaning, “Ewwwwww!”

It was true: Nightlantis tried his patience. “Can we perhaps get going?” sighed Carlos.

“This way,” said Tamika, and they all headed off down the corridor.

Carlos noticed the little girl who had asked about the kiss was walking beside him. “Can I pet your puppies?”

“You may,” said Carlos. She carefully touched the head of one of the hounds, and it gratefully licked her hand. She sprang back, looking at her hand.

“It's fine,” said Carlos, reaching down to scratch the dog behind the ears as the girl stared in wonder. He handed off the leash to her, and, after only a brief hesitation, she grabbed it in her little hand and trundled on ahead.

They ventured down a couple of dark staircases, and zigged through some dim corridors, and finally all the children stopped where the light suddenly grew brighter and everything opened up. They stood along a very extended railing.

Carlos ventured up to the rail and peered over. He gasped at what he saw and stepped back. And then, more carefully this time, he approached the railing.

They had somehow come out on the bottom of Nightlantis. Evidently, the city was symmetrical: just as it was bounded by a conical volcano above, so the very bottom consisted of a deep valley shaped roughly like an ice cream cone. He glanced up, and could see above them the many scattered structures that made up the underside of Nightlantis.

“How do we descend from here?” asked Carlos who looked around in vain for some sort of passageway.

“We fly down,” said Tamika, and indeed, some of the children had run to grab some very odd equipment which was stored around the rim. The contraptions were prodigious, and Carlos, despite his worry, was intrigued by their design. They contained a single seat, a small engine, and above that, something that looked like a very large, ribbed parasol. The ribs on the parasol were actually long, thin blades, and when the steam-powered motor was engaged, they whirled around. He watched in awe as Tamkia strapped herself into a seat and took off in the thing, hovering like a blown dandelion. And then she rose up and very slowly began to drift down into the conical valley.

Barton pushed Carlos impatiently into a seat. “But, I don't know how to pilot this machine!” said Carlos. “It's all right, it will take two,” Barton told him. He strapped in Carlos and then hopped up to stand on the seat in back of him, and, with no further ado, they were aloft.

Carlos gasped when they cleared the rail, as the bottom looked so very far down, but he tried to keep his head. The little craft drifted slowly downwards. “So,” said Barton, “what do you think?”

“This is remarkable. Do you think Cecil is being held at the bottom then?”

Carlos couldn't see Barton above him, but he could imagine the boy scrunching up his face to think. “That's our guess. We had one of these 'copters stolen. We imagine it was that jerk, Thurston.”

“It was stolen just now?” asked Carlos.

“No. Several days back. We think he's been going up and down. Don't know why.”

Carlos nodded. That was passing strange, especially if, as everyone said, there was no one below but the Old Ones.

“Hey,” said Barton. “So, you like Cecil?”

Carlos sighed, hoping this would not eventuate another round of teasing. “Yes, I like him.”

Above him, Barton was quiet for a moment, as if thinking very hard upon a problem. “Uh, so, how did you tell him?”

“I'm sorry? How did I tell him?”

Barton paused, as if screwing up his courage. “Yeah, if there's a person you like, I mean, like like, and you don't know if they like you, and you wanna tell them you like them, how do you tell them you like them?”

Carlos grinned. “Well, I've found it's advisable to just come out and confess your feelings.”

“What? Really?”

“But, what if the person doesn't like you back?”

Carlos had to smile. Barton sounded in earnest. “If the person does not share your affections, then the gentlemanly thing to do is to retreat at once. And then you may pursue instead an interaction with someone who, one must hope, shares your feelings.”

Barton fell silent again, so there was no sound other than the whirling blades of the copter.

“Is there anyone particular you have in mind?” Carlos prodded.

“No!” insisted Barton. “Of course not. I'm just, you know, askin'.”

Carlos grinned, and soon after, they landed down on a circular rock ledge that was apparently the lowest rim of the valley. There was no railing here. Having unstrapped himself from the 'copter seat, Carlos ventured to the edge and leaned over to gaze beneath him: the circular space down in the center was dark, going to pitch black. “What lies down in the pit?”

“Where the Old Ones live, I 'spect,” said Barton. “Though I've no idea why they like it so cursed dark down there.”

“Maybe they're light sleepers?” ventured Carlos. He looked around. The valley here was not nearly as smooth as it had appeared from far above: caves and rock outcroppings pockmarked the valley walls, all perfect places to conceal someone.

“I think I saw where they got your boyfriend,” whispered Tamika, pointing straight across the circumference of the ledge. Carlos squinted across the abyss. Yes, he could dimly see a figure over on the other side.

“I'll go,” he said. “You two stay put!”

“We'll be fine!” Tamika told him.

“I need you to stand by these copters when we're trying to leave.” Carlos left and carefully made his way around the ledge.

He came upon a very odd sight: it was a large clock sitting on the rim, ticking away. He wondered idly if he took it apart whether it would have nothing inside, like the other clocks in Nightlantis. The clock had a bell on the top. Carlos wondered what it was for, and whether it might be a tolling clock.

He got his answer sooner than expected, as the minute hand reached the hour and the bell suddenly began clanging. Frantically, Carlos jumped out of sight behind some rocks. The bell kept ringing and ringing. And then, to his astonishment, a large, green tentacle poked out over the ledge. It felt around, and then, finally finding the clock, gave it a whack.

The bell ceased ringing.

The tentacle disappeared.

Carlos began to breathe again. He peered from behind the rock, but saw no more sign of the tentacle, nor the creature it presumably attached to.

He carefully made his way along the rim, and, with no further misadventures, and at length came to the place Tamika had spotted. He saw a flash of silver hair, and knew he'd come upon Cecil.

“Hold still,” he whispered as he ran to where Cecil had been chained up. “I'm here! I'm here. Are you all right?” Carlos reached out a hand and brushed his fingers on Cecil's face.

Cecil puffed air and blew some hair out of his face. “Oh, I'm fine. Other than the bad cliché of being chained up. How perfectly embarrassing!”

“You'll be fine,” shushed Carlos, plucking a bobby pin from Cecil's hair.

“We don't have time for that now, my love!” said Cecil.

“Excuse me?” said Carlos. “Uh, no, I need this,” he explained. “Are you certain you're all right? He didn't … harm you in any way?”

Cecil nodded. “I told Mr. Thurston that he lacks a villain's imagination. And then I requested some torture....”

“What?” asked Carlos. He was using the bobby to pick the locks of the metal clasps that held Cecil's wrists. “You requested torture?”

“Well, just a little.” Carlos stood blinking for a moment, but Cecil kept up his recitation. “But he just kept up muttering about inferior races and the like. He's very tiresome as an antagonist.”

Carlos shook his head and finished freeing Cecil's right wrist. “We'll get you out of here. I have some transport standing by.”

“I didn't know naturalists could open locks with a hair ornament.”

“My brother taught me this, actually. He's a bit of a bounder, but he has his uses.” There was a click, and Cecil was freed. He immediately (and somewhat dramatically) fell into Carlos's arms.

Carlos thought that they didn't really have time for drama, but then decided that it would only take a few seconds to give Cecil a nice kiss. (Although, in the back of his mind, he could already hear Tamika and Barton yelling “Ewww!”)

But the clench was soon interrupted by a gunshot. Carlos hit the floor, dragging Cecil down with him. “How much ammunition did that idiot bring along!” Carlos cursed.

“He might be setting the gun back to yesterday, when his armory was full,” said Cecil. Carlos frowned at him. “I told you time here is weird,” Cecil added with an apologetic shrug.

“We need to make our way back around the rim!” said Carlos. The ground shook again, and there was a loud boom. Carlos threw himself over Cecil. When at last the shaking stopped, he looked back up, he realized that there was now an avalanche blocking the way he'd come. “Damn!” he said. “Now the only way back is by Thurston!” As if in answer, another shot fired over their heads.

“No, there's another way,” said Cecil, wriggling out from beneath him. “But you have to trust me. Come on!” And with that, Cecil ran out to the edge of the rim and jumped off, disappearing into the blackness below.

“Cecil!” cried Carlos. Another shot came over his head. He ran after Cecil and, pausing a moment, closed his eyes and jumped.

He made a soft landing almost instantly. Oddly enough, it was now dimly lit down here. The ground below him was passing strange. It seemed to be a carpet of soft moss, but when Carlos moved, it rippled, as if there were a body of water just underneath. Despite his dire circumstances, Carlos's scientific curiosity was aroused, and he spent a little bit of time bouncing up and down in order to visualize the intriguing wave patterns.

Then Cecil was there, slapping a hand over Carlos's mouth. Cecil held a finger to his lips for silence. And then he gestured out across the cavern. There appeared to be something living there: Carlos's impression was a mass of enormous tentacles, all tangled up.

“The Old Ones lie sleeping here,” said Cecil, and Carlos realized whatever it is was faintly snoring. “Well, at least one of them. It’s a little hard to tell: all those tentacles.”

“This isn't very deep at all,” said Carlos. “It looked infinite from above. How did you know?”

Cecil shook his head. “I told you the Old Ones were rubbish at engineering. Also, I saw it wake up to punch its alarm clock.”

“Oh, was that what it was?” Carlos remembered the clock with the bell on top he'd seen the tentacle swipe at.

“Yes, fortunately, they're late risers. Lazy sods, if you ask me. Now, we need to make our way to the other side without disturbing it.”

Carlos poked at the ground one more time with his foot, sending out another ripple of waves. “There's water underneath,” Cecil explained.

“How remarkable!” whispered Carlos.

“Some toff sort of bed.” Cecil shrugged, unimpressed. “Now follow me!” Carlos nodded as Cecil crept along, keeping towards the side of what he guessed was the creature’s bedchamber. Carlos smiled, marveling at Cecil's bravery and resourcefulness. Perhaps the children were right to moan and groan over their mutual affection? Carlos had to admit to himself, even though he had only known the man a few days, he was rather smitten.

As Carlos's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed other features of the chamber. There were theatrical placards hung up on the walls, for example. As Carlos had never been a theater aficionado, he didn't recognize the titles. One advertised a show called Qunisniket Park, and another, Regner Lodbrog's Epicedium.

They also had to make their way around various items of furnishings. Carlos looked up at what he took to be the creature's kitchen. There were a number of oversized pots and pans all stacked up, as well as some kitchen knives big as swords. It was also stacked with books and periodicals. Carlos looked at one of the spines. The title was in the strange language of the Old Ones, but Carlos now had enough practice he could translate it: To Serve Man.

They made their way around the huge table, and were about halfway around the circumference of the room when they heard the shot. Fortunately, it missed Cecil and Carlos, but hit the floor of the chamber, and the result was a gusher of water, as if someone had knocked over a fire hydrant.

The creature abruptly ceased snoring, and suddenly, the tentacles began to writhe.

“Cecil, run!” said Carlos. He grabbed one of the oversized knives. “I'll hold him off!”

“You can't hold off a gun with a knife!” said Cecil, who stayed stubbornly put. “Don't be preposterous!”

“Cecil, I throw knives,” Carlos hissed.

Cecil paused for a moment staring in wonder. “Really?”

“Yes, that's how a killed a pirate! Aboard the Vigilant!”

Cecil gaped in a rather rude but endearing manner. “Carlos, I cannot begin to describe how terribly attractive that is!”

They stared dumbly at each other for a long moment, but another shot rang out. “Cecil! There’s no time for this. Go get cover!” Carlos ordered.

To Carlos's intense relief, Cecil scampered away. Carlos stood, gripping the knife, and tried to watch both the slumbering Old One (which, oddly enough with all the commotion, seemed to be drowsing once again) and Thurston, wherever he was. Also, as the surface of the bed was still leaking, and he was now shin-high in a rapidly rising tide of water.

The villain appeared just then, gripping his rifle, which was pointed at Carlos. “Stop right there,” Carlos threatened, hoisting the knife, and immediately realizing what a foolish defense this would be.

“Where is it?” demanded Thurston. “Where is the sacrifice?”

“Is that it?” asked Carlos. “You're helping the Old Ones now?” He wasn't really certain how he was going to get out of this one, so he decided to delay Thurston as best he could. He had read a lot of novels, and knew villains needed to explain themselves in the last chapter.

Thurston glared at him. “Only one Elder God. This abomination!” He pointed to where the creature snoozed nearby.

“You consider this creature an abomination, yet you evidently esteem him over Cecil?”

Thurston looked as if he would spit. “That savage is less that human.”

“You attempted to assassinate the mayor. What does that make you?”

“Some races are simply not as highly adapted,” Thurston averred primly.

Despite his current predicament. Carlos was offended, both for himself and for the scientific community at large. “Oh, do not use Mr. Darwin's theories this way! He would be appalled at the likes of you.”

“What do you know of it?”

“I am Mr. Darwin's correspondent of many years running!” Carlos crisply informed him.

“Really?” asked Thurston, who seemed a little crestfallen. To Carlo’s astonishment, he lowered his weapon, and approached Carlos. “I can't seem to get him to answer my letters. What do you think I'm doing wrong?”

“You're out of your mind, for one thing!” came a call from up above. Instantly, Thurston had his rifle up, pointing it at Cecil, who looked down on them from the creature's kitchen counter.

“Come down here, or I'll shoot!” screamed Thurston.

“Carlos, look out!” yelled Cecil. Carlos dove out of the way just as something dark and sticky rained down from up above. The gun went off once again. Thurston leapt to his feet, although the water was now rising, making every movement clumsy. He was now completely coated in the dark, sticky substance. Carlos raised his knife, but suddenly, Thurston had the gun up, pointing it at him.

But just then, a long green tentacle snaked out, wrapped itself around Thurston, and yanked him away. As Carlos looked on in horror, the Old One, which was now awakened, popped Thurston into its tentacled mouth and swallowed, emitting a satisfied burp.

Carlos felt a splash beside him. It was Cecil, who had hopped down from the kitchen counter up above.

“What was that?” whispered Carlos.

“Chocolate,” said Cecil, licking a bit off his fingers. “The beast has a sweet tooth. I saw a lot of dessert cookbooks when I was up there.”

“Clever!” said Carlos. There was a huge rumble. The Old One writhed around, and then suddenly disappeared beneath the surface of the rapidly rising water.

“I think we need to get out of here, Cecil,” said Carlos. They half-ran, half-swam for the far ledge. They pushed and pulled each other up, as the water had nearly risen to that level.

“Carlos!” shouted Tamika. “We thought you were done for!”

“We need to get going, right now!” Carlos told her.

“We can only take one of ya,” said Barton. He pointed to where one of the copters had been bashed by a falling rock. “You need to decide. And quick!”

“We think we can possibly take us and one of you,” said Tamika. “But that's all.”

“Take Cecil,” said Carlos immediately.

“No. I'm staying with Carlos,” said Cecil stubbornly. “You two ride up.”

“Cecil-” said Carlos.

“But we can't-” protested Tamika.

“Both of you!” commanded Cecil. “I don't like to pull rank, but I am your prince, so get up and out of here, now, or there shall be consequences!”

“What consequences?” asked Barton.

Cecil knelt down so he was eye to eye with Barton. “I shall look askance upon you,” he said quietly. “Now, go!”

The two children made to get into the copter. Carlos slipped his hand into Cecil's. “That was very brave,” he whispered.

“I don't care what happens,” Cecil insisted, “as long as I'm here with you.”

Carlos smiled and went to kiss him, to a hearty round of “Ewwww's” from the children, who were already riding up in the ‘copter.

“What's that?” asked Carlos, pointing upwards. There were shadows on the wall of the canyon.

And then, with the sound of beating wings, he was yanked upwards.

“Did you get all of them?” Josie fussed at her angels as they all alit back on the main level of Nightlantis.

“There are more children on the lower levels,” Carlos told her.

“We need to get them to safety,” said Cecil. “We owe them a large debt of gratitude.”

Tamika and Barton both straightened up proudly. “We can help,” said Tamika.

“Yeah, if we get to fly with angels again,” added Barton. Josie nodded to the angels, and they flew away with the children, who squealed in delight.

“Wish we'd thought of that when we needed to get down there,” Carlos groused as they watched them fly away.

“The angels won't interfere in most things,” said Josie. “But you'd already taken care of the sacrifice, so I told them to quit dilly-dallying and go help you.”

“Thurston ended up being the sacrifice?” asked Carlos. Josie nodded. “Then, as the children would say, ewww!”

“Thank you, Josie,” said Cecil, although Carlos still looked annoyed.

“By the way, Carlos,” said Josie, blinking through her thick spectacles, “I suppose you know that your portal is opened now.”

Carlos gasped. “What? Oh, good Lord, we have go! Cecil, come on!” Carlos took off running towards the edge of town and the passageway beyond.

Cecil, looking confused, started waving goodbye to Josie, who wrapped him in a hug. “You take care of him, my dear,” she whispered.

“Come along, Cecil!” hollered Carlos, as the ground trembled underneath them. He and Cecil ran breakneck through Nightlantis as the ground continued trembling, and a deep rumbling went up from deep beneath the mountain. They finally came to the tunnel, and ran along towards where Carlos had fallen what now seemed so long ago.

As the ground shook, Carlos ran as fast as he could, panting and gesturing upwards. “I see a light! I think it's opened!”

Cecil, looking bewildered, ran along behind.

“There it is!” shouted Carlos. Indeed, there was now an opening visible up in the tunnel's rocky ceiling. “Come along,” he told Cecil, “we can climb up there.”

“Carlos,” said Cecil quietly, “you want me to- to come along?”

Carlos stopped. The ground was now trembling mightily. “What? I thought that was the point!”

“To leave my home … for the outside world.”

Carlos’s heart sunk. “Cecil, I told you I would show you the stars and the moon. Now, come on!”

“Yes, but you didn't ask me formally,” said Cecil, who looked a bit put out.

There was thick dust all around and it was getting hard to see. Carlos was thrown against the side of the tunnel when the ground lurched. “Cecil, be reasonable,” he pleaded. “I was going to marry you, for Heaven's sake.”

Bits of the tunnel ceiling were coming down all around them, but Cecil pouted. “Well, only because you felt sorry for me,” he said, looking away.

“Cecil, that's not-” There was a terrific rumble, and the ground shook violently. Carlos sighed, deciding there was nothing for it but to get it out. He dropped down on one knee. He thought for a moment, and then began, “Cecil, I hope the past days have proved that I harbor a great deal of affection for you in my heart-”

Cecil crouched down, taking Carlos's hands. “Oh, you don't need to go down on a knee for me!”

Carlos huffed in pure frustration. “But you wanted romance, Cecil!”

“I suppose I did,” laughed Cecil, who tugged Carlos upwards. But just then, the ground beneath them buckled, and Carlos stumbled backwards. He fell … upwards, into the doorway, as if invisible hands were pulling him in.

Desperately, he grabbed the door frame and attempted to brace himself. He held out a hand. “Cecil, come with me! I-”

The ground shook, Carlos lost his grip, and felt something wrenching him upwards.

He found himself, quite suddenly, in the water. He looked below him, choking and disoriented. He could see through the clear tropical waters that the island that housed Nightlantis was already sinking beneath the sea. He thrashed in the water, looking this way and that, but didn't see the portal door anywhere. Finally, he looked up, and could barely see light of the sun barely showing through the surface of the water.

Kicking with all his might, he tried to ascend, but was held down by his now sodden clothing. His lungs began to burn. He yanked off his boots, and once again struggled towards to surface. Higher and higher he climbed, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

He needed air.

And then it all went black.

Carlos sat up in bed. “Cecil,” he whispered.

“Get the Cap'n,” whispered a voice beside him.

Carlos blinked, looking around the gently swaying room, utterly confused. “Where- Where am I?” he asked.

“Don't you know, lad?” asked the mate. “You're back on the Vigilant!”

“You waited for me?” exclaimed Carlos.

“Waited?” asked the Mate. “You were gone less than an hour.”

Carlos laid back, relieved. “Yes. Yes, time works differently in Nightlantis.”

“Where? Listen, lad,” the mate said, leaning over him, “we think you might've bumped your head, jumping in like that.”

“Have you- Have you recovered Thurston?” asked Carlos.

“No, body's likely washed out to sea.”

“Washed out? From the doorway?”

The mate was squinting at him. “What doorway?”

“The empty doorway on the island.” It was all coming back to him. “We went up to investigate, and found ancient ruins....”

“Ruins!” laughed the mate. “Ruins of what? You found a deserted isle. Not even real interesting, according to our men.”

“But, if I didn't jump into a doorway-”

The mate looked confused. “T'was no doorway, lad. Thurston pitched raving into a pool, and you plunged in after him. Half mad yourself, if you ask me!”

“No doorway?” said Carlos.

“Oh, there you are!” boomed a familiar voice. Captain Cochrane entered the room and sat down next to him. “We thought we'd lost you. You were half drowned when we pulled you out.”

“I- I jumped in a pool?”

“Yes,” said Cochrane.

“There was no stone doorway?”

“Doorway?” The mate and Cochrane exchanged a puzzled glance. “I heard of no doorway. Did your brain get scrambled down there?”

Carlos tried to control his breathing. He noticed he was barefooted, wearing just his underclothes, and lying under a scratchy, woolen blanket. It looked like they had set him out in the mess room he usually used for surgery instead of his hammock. “What happened?” he asked.

“You went ashore on the island. You remember that?” Carlos nodded. “Thurston claimed it was supposed to be some kind of great lost civilization, but we saw no trace of that. Then that great fool started to rave about Old Ones and jumped down into a pool. You rushed in after him. Must have wanted to save his raving mad arse. But you both must have ended up washed out to sea.”

“That's what happened?” asked Carlos, rubbing his head.

“Yes. We think you may have suffered a concussion, in the fall. You’re damn fault, always jumping into trouble!”

Carlos lay back. So it had all been a strange fever dream. Yet it had felt so real. But it was all poppycock, obviously – a civilization below a mountain. “Thurston?” he asked.

“We've seen hide nor hair of Thurston,” said Cochrane.

“You were completely knocked unconscious,” added the mate.

“I was having-” Carlos began. “I had the strangest dream.”

“You were out. Lucky for you your friend dragged you in,” Cochrane continued.

“It was all...” Carlos began. “Wait, my friend, you said?”

“The native boy who rescued you?” said Cochrane.

“Native boy?”

“Yes, out exploring or something. Another madman! We all thought he was an old man. Hair white as-”

“Moonlight!” said Carlos sitting up.

The captain looked at the mate. “Well, of course. Anyway, he claims he's your friend. Funny kid, but speaks good English, I have no idea how.”

“Is he here? Is he still here?”

“Well, yes, he's up on deck. We thought- Carlos!”

But Carlos had already grabbed the blanket around him and took off running for the deck. I must look a madman, he thought, gallivanting around the deck half-dressed and half-drowned. It was night time, and the Vigilant was cutting silently through black waters.

And then he saw him, a silver-haired figure standing by the railing at the bow, gazing around in wonder. And then Carlos was behind him, wrapping him in an embrace.

“The stars!” said Cecil, pointing upwards. “Carlos, they're so lovely.”

“They are,” said Carlos, arms tight around Cecil's waist.

“I never knew there would be so much void between them.”

Carlos didn't answer, but only held on, his heart beating, his eye welling up.

Cecil turned around to face him. “Carlos, are we going to have an adventure now?”

“Yes, my dearest,” said Carlos, tracing Cecil's face with the tips of his fingers. “Yes we are.”

Strathlachland, Scotland, Year of Our Lord 1860

Rafael sighed and gazed up at the vine-covered walls of his family estate, steeling himself. He heard a soft “ahem” next to him, and jutted out an elbow. Temperance, rubbing her bulging belly, took his arm.

A liveried servant opened the wide front door, and, with children trailing behind, the couple stepped through the threshold. The Baron stood there in the cavernous main entryway, leaning on his cane. He looked a slightly less tall than he had been, slightly more hunched, but his eyes remained sharp. His wife was at his side, extending her arms.

“Nana!” screamed the children, who broke into a run to embrace her. She fell to her knees to receive their hugs and kisses.

The Baron extended a courteous hand, and Rafael shook it, gratefully. “Well, look at you,” the Baron told Temperance, giving her a quick kiss on the temple.

“Oh, my dear, you look marvelous,” gushed the Baroness, taking both of Temperance’s hands in hers. “How far along?”

“Still another three months, but I’m already big as a house,” said Temperance, once again gleefully rubbing her belly.

“What’s all that racket?” came a voice from up the staircase.

A squeal suddenly went up from the children. “Uncle Cecil!” they chorused. The boy and girl tumbled over to greet the dark-skinned, silver-haired man who was descending towards them.

“Who brought these rugrats?” asked Cecil in mock horror, grabbing the girl up on one hip. “I suppose you’ll be demanding a story from Uncle Cecil?”

“Yes!” they chorused.

“Well, as it happens, your Uncle Carlos and I just returned from the Antipodes. What do you think about that?”

“Children, please don’t plague Uncle Cecil,” scolded Rafael.

Cecil winked at Rafael and reached out a hand to the boy. “Do you want to see a platypus? We picked him up in Tasmania!”

“Yes!” shouted the boy, and then they were off, walking back out the front door, while the Baroness escorted Temperance to the sitting room.

“Your brother’s up in his study, if you want to converse,” the Baron told Rafael. “He probably lost track of time again.”

Rafael nodded and excused himself to go upstairs while the Baron and his wife continued fussing over Temperance. He somewhat nervously made his way along a darkened hallway to Carlos’s rooms.

“Rafael, is that you?” called Carlos, who was indeed ensconced in his study. He rose from his desk and, ignoring his brother’s outstretched hand, wrapped him in an embrace. “I’m so sorry, I must have lost track of time.”

“It’s all right,” said Rafael, who was blushing slightly as Carlos pounded him on the back.

“Care to go outside for a smoke? It’s a fine day?” Rafael nodded. Carlos opened his humidor, and after grabbing cigars, they passed through the French doors to a small balcony overlooking the estate.

“I’ve heard congratulations are in order,” said Carlos, settling into a chair.

Rafael puffed on his smoke and leaned against the railing, heaving a sigh. “Twins this time, or so they tell me.”

“Great news!”

Rafael looked dubious. “Carlos, if I had any idea Temperance would be so … fertile….”

Carlos roared with laughter.

Rafael’s face took on a morose cast. “My two are tormenting their Uncle Cecil now. If you’d like, I can call them off.”

“It’s no problem. We’d like to get to know your children, so I can more easily pick who I’ll want to disinherit.”

Rafael scowled at his brother, who once again burst into laughter.

“To be serious, Rafael, will you require more financial recompense?” Carlos asked. “We want to assure for the children’s education.”

“We’re fine. You have been most generous.” He sighed again. “And, as I have often said, I am most grateful to you for smoothing things over with Mother and Father.”

Carlos waved his hands. “It was nothing with Mother: she’ll do anything to see her grandchildren. But as I’ve warned you….”

“No hint of scandal,” sighed Rafael, sounding more than a bit wistful.

“No returning to your former ways. At least while Mother is still alive,” Carlos warned.

Rafael turned his back on Carlos to gaze out over the estate, smoking for a while, deep in thought. “When we originally arranged this visit I didn’t expect to find you and Cecil here today,” he finally said. “I thought you were still out on your latest expedition.”

Carlos shrugged. “We had originally planned to be away longer, but turned around and made for home as soon as we received the news about Father’s stroke. He appears to be doing well though.”

Rafael came and sat down in the chair next to his brother, looking concerned. “Is that your opinion as a physician?”

“My opinion as a physician is that he’ll outlive the both of us.”

Rafael sighed and appeared to sag. “He will me, probably. I’m not so certain about you. You appear highly contented these days, Carlos.”

Carlos sat back, looking contented as a house cat. “Perhaps because I am?”

“Will you ever tell me the true story of how you and Cecil … became acquainted?”

“We’ve already told you everything.”

Rafael derisively waved around his cigar. “I don’t mean Cecil’s phantastical tales.”

Carlos leaned forward. “Rafael, as you must have learned by now, sometimes the phantastical is also true.”

“Papa!” came squeals from the doorway, as two children hurtled themselves towards Rafael.

“Uncle Cecil has a platypus!” “In the duck pond!” “And he has a beak like a duck!” “And webbed toes!” “And he swims!” “And he’s Albert!” “And he comes when he calls!” “And he’s from Tasmoonia!”

“Tasmania,” supplied Cecil, who was standing at the door, grinning.

“Children,” scolded Rafael, who was struggling to stand up. “Aren’t you going to greet your Uncle Carlos?”

“Hullo Uncle Carlos!” they chorused, and tumbled into his lap one by one for kisses. Then they were back to tugging on their father. “Come and see! Come and see!”

Rafael rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be swept off the balcony by the tide of toddlers.

When they had all gone, Carlos smiled at Cecil, and patted his leg. Cecil came over and sat on his knee, and Carlos kissed him softly on the temple. They took care, when they were in mixed company, but Carlos figured he could do as he wished on his own estate, and everyone be damned.

“When they get a little older, we can take them along on a voyage perhaps,” said Carlos.

Cecil’s eyes grew big. “That would be wonderful!” He nestled into Carlos. “Oh, Carlos, do you regret that we can’t have them?”

Carlos shrugged. “We could have them, if we wanted.” Cecil sat up and looked dubious. “There’s orphans enough in this county,” Carlos explained. “Like the lost children in Nightlantis. If you wanted, there are many children who want and deserve a home.”

Cecil gasped. “You would do that?”

“Of course.”

Cecil leapt to his feet. “Carlos, we need a child!”

“Right now?” laughed Carlos. “I haven’t finished my cigar.”

“Oh, hang your cigar. Come on! There’s no time to waste!”

“Cecil, it’s not like picking out a damned puppy or kitten.”

But Cecil would not be talked down. “We should go now. Our niece and nephew are here, they could help select a suitable cousin!”

Carlos regarded Cecil for a long moment. “All right, all right.” Cecil clapped his hands. Carlos tapped his cigar into the ash tray. “I suppose you’ll want to bring along Albert the platypus as well?”

“Oh, what a capital idea!” said Cecil, and he tugged Carlos off the balcony, and into their home.

It was silent for a short while out on the balcony, except for the whispering of the wind. And then a striped tabby cat leapt up and sat on the railing, grinning and switching its tail.

Notes on this chapter: I gave you a little epilogue, since people seem to like 'em. The depths of Nightlantis are somewhat based on Dante's conical version of the various circles of hell. I figure Cthulhu would like that.

This entry was originally posted at http://tikific.dreamwidth.org/144246.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

( 2 rants — Rant incoherently )
Jan. 19th, 2014 06:33 pm (UTC)
Weirdass monster alarm clocks, why not.
Lazy monsters with waterbeds at that.

Pfft, consequences.

Ha! For a minute there I thought you really WERE going with "it was all a dream." You got me.

Ah, perfect last sentence. I can't spell that name without copying it, but I see he somehow managed to hitch a ride too.
Jan. 19th, 2014 07:16 pm (UTC)
Ha! For a minute there I thought you really WERE going with "it was all a dream." You got me.

Good! Heehee. I re-jiggered the ending a bit to sell that a little more. Just one last evil twist for you.

And, yes, Khoshekh gets around in my universe.
( 2 rants — Rant incoherently )


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Demonisation to diplomacy

UNITED NATIONSAt present, there is no shortage of commentators earnestly hoping that the West will choose the wiser course in handling the deepening crisis over Iran and its nuclear programme.

 Notable among them is the sometime United Nations weapons inspector, Hans Blix, who believes that for the US and/or Israel to launch a ‘preventive’ attack on Iran would be the ‘road to hell’, serving merely to inflame an already unstable region. A person of palpable goodwill and humanity, Blix argues that the best chance of securing peace lies in working for a nuclear-free Middle East.Ten years ago, Blix deployed his considerable eloquence to warn the US against invading Iraq. As head of the UN Monitoring Commission, he saw no evidence to indicate that the Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein posed an immediate threat to the West. Yet despite making the case against war on the basis of not just moral but scientific authority, Blix was brushed aside as an irritating irrelevance by US President George W. Bush and his bellicose ally, British Prime Minister Tony Blair.

Superficially, at least, the current leadership of the US wears a very different aspect. Nobody could have imagined George W. Bush offering the hand of friendship to Iran as President Obama did at the outset of his presidency. Yet genuine though this gesture may have been, Obama is hugely hampered when it comes to reaching a meaningful accomodation with Iran. Nor is this is simply on account of the power of the US Israel lobby and the close rapport between Washington and an Israeli military establishment whose more hawkish elements hunger to extinguish the Iranian nuclear threat by military force.

What above all has undermined the potential for a US-Iranian relationship that is not dangerously combustible has been Washington’s surly unwillingness to build diplomatic bridges. Fearful like Blix of what an attack on Iran portends, the US policy analyst Trita Parsi laments Obama’s failure to capitalise on what has proved to be a one-off demarche. It is a failure, he argues, in his sombre new book, A Single Roll of the Dice: Obama’s Diplomacy with Iran, that has compounded the damage already done by America’s long-standing refusal to acknowledge any need to speak to Tehran. Throughout the era of the Cold War, Moscow and Washington never ceased to maintain diplomatic relations, strained to breaking point though they often were. What has stopped the US and Iran from dealing with one another on a pragmatic basis?

The truth is that the US never adjusted to the fact that after 1979 it no longer enjoyed the luxury of being able to treat Iran as a client state. The fall of the pro-US Shah of Iran in that year and the humiliating American hostage crisis in Tehran that ensued caused Americans to demonise Iran with the same zeal that Ayatollah Khomeini’s new Islamic Republic demonised the US. Ever since, the very idea of according Iran the respect appropriate to a fellow member of the comity of nations has been repugnant to American public opinion.Yet long before this, both the US and Britain, whose imperial role in the Middle East gave way to American dominance, behaved towards Iran with vast arrogance, operating on the assumption that its raison d’etre was simply to be at the West’s disposal. It is the malign consequences of Anglo-American skulduggery in Iran 60 years ago with which the world is still living. For the subversion of Mossadegh’s rule and cynical re-establishment of Western control ultimately led to the rise of furiously anti-Western Islamism and the entrenchment of the perception that the West’s interest in Iran was always essentially rapacious. To this day, Iranians are apt to see British meddling behind all the travails of their ancient land. Yet if Iranians are prey to anti-Western paranoia, it is for manifest historical reasons. It especially behoves British readers of de Bellaigue’s book to wonder how they would have reacted to the brutal indignities Iran endured at the hands of Britain and the United States.

Christopher de Bellaigue believes British attitudes towards Iran have long been infused with racism. It remains, it could be said, a Western reflex to view Iranians and Arabs alike much as the inhabitants of the Indian subcontinent and Africa have been viewed: as ‘lesser breeds without the law’. It is this veiled but tenacious survival of hegemonic attitudes that puts persons of goodwill like Hans Blix who uphold the virtue of dialogue at a particular disadvantage. – Khaleejtimes

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Friday, November 30, 2012

Promise to Kate

One of my favorite traditions at Chets Creek is our "Seasons of Giving" project.  Each class is encouraged to support a cause that teaches the children about giving and service during the holiday season.  Classes choose deserving projects such as supporting Beth Young (a former Chets teacher that is now serving a full time mission in Africa) or collecting blankets for the homeless or  collecting coloring books for Wolfson Children's Hospital.   There is also a toy drive to help 165 families in our Chets Creek family!  There are so many opportunities.

Our class chose to support "Promise to Kate" which is a foundation started by teacher Elizabeth Conte and her husband to find a cure for myotonic muscular dystrophy, a genetic disorder that their precious daughter Kate (on the left) was born with.  We are thrilled that other classes and friends have joined us in teaching our children about supporting Kate by making items for a silent auction.  Make sure to stop by our lobby and make a bid on one of the delightful items!  Below is just a sample!
The beautiful pots below were made and donated by our talented Art Teacher, Jen Snead.

 Many of the classes made holiday items that included ornaments made by the children or that included each child's fingerprint.  Aren't they delightful?

Several of the classes collected items for baskets such as the "Chocolate Delicious" below.

Or how about this cake plate with recipe cards?

And look at this delightful basket of monogrammed hand towels made and donated by a Grandma of two of our Chets students!

The Advent calendar below was made and donated by Vickie Holtsman, who has adopted "Promise to Kate" as her platform as "Miss River City Outstanding Teen 2012."

One of my favorite items is ornaments made by a class that can be exchanged for a donation!  I have already picked out my ornaments and plan to make a donation to honor each of my grandchildren!

This is just a sampling of the beautiful items that are available - loving made and given by children who care about Kate!  Give yourself a present this holiday season and stop by our Lobby.  Just stroll through the posters and projects - it'll make you feel good to know that our children are making a difference - and make sure to bid on one of our "Promise to Kate" items!

Friday, November 16, 2012

Pow Wow 2013

One of my favorite Chets Creek traditions is Pow Wow because it reminds me of how far we've come.  We've moved from the days of a generic Native American celebration to studying tribes, their part of the country, their foods, clothes and traditions.  Pow Wow is a kindergarten performance with 5th grade woven into the day by their participation and the projects that they do, so that it is a circle activity bringing our children back to the beginning, full circle.

As first graders we are invited to watch the Pow Wow, remembering our days in the spotlight the year before.  When you're in the midst of it, you don't realize the pageantry, the beautiful colors as 200 kindergartners parade into the grounds and form tribal circles in their colorful native costumes.  I love the details, and the parents with their cameras and pride clicking away.  After the ceremony the kindergartners participate in centers for the rest of the day finishing up late in the afternoon.  One of the marvels of the day is a full sized tee pee that will seat an entire kindergarten class and the dynamic "Peaceful Waters" - our own Media Specialist, Miss KK.  KK enthralls everyone that enters the tee pee with her stories.  Of course, they are overwhelmed with just the idea of sitting inside this huge outside tent.  Then as she passes the "talking stick" and asks each child and adult tell the group what they are thankful for,  I am moved to tears every single time.  As the children leave, the Leadership Team and a few other adults lay down on the floor of the tee pee and just take a few minutes to enjoy the peace and quiet before the tee pee comes down at the end of the day.
I am always moved by this ritual.  I have worked in a dozen schools in three different states and I know that it's not like this at other places.  Not only have we designed the most fantastic learning experience for our children, we spend a few minutes reflecting and just enjoying the fruits of our labor.  I feel truly blessed to work in this very special place!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Kevin Henkes Characters and Charts

 We have read all of Kevin Henkes' "mouse"  books.  We used the books to study his characters.  First, with Wemberly, we worked with a partner to think of a single word that described worried Wemberly.  Then for Wendell and Sheila Rae and Louise we worked with partners and came up with a word to describe each character and then wrote our evidence - where in the text the character had demonstrated that quality.

 After several days of describing characters, we decided to see if we could come up with the word that Kevin Henkes used to describe each character.  The Kevin Henkes word is in red on the right.  The words that we came up with are in green.
Finally we decided which character was our favorite.  On one side of an index card we drew a picture of our favorite character and on the other side we wrote the reason that the character was our favorite.  As you can see Owen was our favorite, but Lilly came in a close second!

We also learned about Kevin Henkes' life so we could figure out how his life had affected his writing.  Students shared the most interesting thing they had learned about Henkes from their homework.
 All of this background helped us talk across the books - our favorite book, favorite character, which book we thought was Kevin Henkes' most important to first graders...  To have a book talk, we had to learn about Accountable Talk - how to wait for the silence to speak, how to make sure that everyone got a turn, how to disagree politely, how to listen and build on what others said.  We made the chart below of phrases to help us continue the conversation.


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Bem vindos ao diário de uma brasileira em Timor-Leste - uma meia-ilha no outro lado do planeta que a todos encanta com a magia do canto de uma sereia.
Ou seria o canto de um crocodilo? Bem... em se tratando de Timor, lafaek sira bele hananu... :-))

sábado, 12 de junho de 2010

This is the story of a little monkey called Chiquita (Chica, for friends) who lives in Timor-Leste, but she needs help to be taken to Brazil. If you feel touched by the situation, help me in any way you can - SOS Chica!

My name is Telma and I am a Brazilian teacher living in Dili, capital of Timor-Leste, a half-island among the archipelago of Indonesia and Australia, which has being rebuilt after 24 years of war. I came here to work in a humanitarian mission promoted by the Brazilian government in agreement with the Timorese government.

I arrived in January 2010, and I rented a room in the house of a Timorese family. It is a common procedure here, at least among the foreigners that don't have wages as good as the United Nations employees or some Non-Governmental Organizations working in the country.

In the back yard of the house there was an improvised cage made with two fan covers wrapped up by a net and there was inside the smallest tiny monkey that I’ve already seen. I’ve been told that she belonged to a person in the family and that should be about two or three months old. Inside the “cage” just a piece of dry bread and some dirty rags. Nor a single drop of water.

The little monkey was so dehydrated that I don't know how she survived. Maybe it took drops of water from the rain, but I had to teach her to drink water using a feeding bottle. I decided “to adopt” the little monkey and the first providence to take, of course, it would be to arrange an actual cage for her. Me and Roberto, other teacher who also rents a room in the house, bought the material and the Timorese family took care of building the cage.

Every morning I’d clean the new cage, change the water and put fresh fruits. Chica also adores sunflower seeds and her favorite dish is, without a doubt, peanuts. She is extremely affectionate and as she was moved away of her mother very early, she is also very shy and become deranged to any caress.

In a period of eight days off the work in the Brazilian cooperation, I took advantage to travel to Indonesia, not without assigning my friend and neighbor Erivelto - one more Brazilian teacher living at the house - of taking care of the monkey. He wrote me everyday saying that Chica missed me, but that would be natural and even expected. Two days before my return Erivelto called very worried saying that the little monkey was had wounded her right arm and the tissue was already dead. He also sent, by e-mail, the picture of her with a black and very dry arm.

I was terrified and began to ask for my friends help. A friend of mine, a biologist called Lotte, went to the house to see the monkey and said that she should be sacrificed, which, for my happiness, Erivelto didn't allow. When I arrived, before leaving the suitcase in the room, I ran to see my Chiquita who was sad and depressed, showing to me her dead arm.

I contacted Dr. Antonino, a veterinarian denoted by my friend Lucimar, who came to pick Chica up and took her to his clinic where she had her arm amputated. Until the doctor was moved by the situation and he posted some pictures of the surgery in Facebook (http://www.facebook.com).

Chiquita is already back home, and with a lot of courage, she gets used to her new condition. I want to thank my friends from the Brazilian mission still not mentioned - Adriana, Anderson, Cleto, Fábio, Gladcya, Grazy, Rosilene Costa, Rosilene Melo and Sansão. They offered valuable support to me and my little monkey and helped us to go through this hard time. Even my guardian angel for every moment, my good friend Simone, has been here visiting Chica while I was away.

The matter now is the following: what will happen to Chica when I finish my mission in Timor? I’ll return to Brazil next December and I want A LOT to take the little monkey with me. I live in an apartment building  quite large in Flamengo (Rio de Janeiro) but I know that it isn’t the most appropriate place for her. I also have a house in Teresópolis (highland city around 90 km from downtown) where I have all space she needs, besides having a caretaker who can take charge of feeding her when I am not there. My idea would be to build a nursery of at least 20 square meters where she could have space to live among the trees.

But how to take Chica from Timor-Leste to Brazil? I’ve been told that she cannot be qualified as a wild animal anymore, given her disability, besides had been raised in captivity. If Chiquita would already have difficulty to readapt to her natural habitat when she was perfect, what about now, without an arm... I do need all help that one can offer to get the authorization to take Chica and I haven’t calculate the transport cost yet, but I’m determined to move skies and lands to offer the best for this sweet monkey who has already suffered that much. I cannot leave her here with the family that treated her like nothing. As I arrived here on January 21st, 2010 and they said that the little monkey was about two months, I set her birthday on November 15th. Who knows if being born with the Brazilian Republic will help her to get support from Brazilian Embassy in Dili?

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Nenagh Eire Og Camogie Club Notes

The A.G.M was held last Thursday in the Nenagh Eire Og complex. It was a well attended affair and the new committee was formed for the coming year. Chairperson Pat Sheridan Vice Chairperson Denise Morris Secretary Elizabeth Duggan Treasurer Liam McGrath P.R.O s Séamie Morris Enda O Sullivan Welfare Officers Mark Hasset Cora Collins Louise Ryan Paul Kennedy Mairead Long Mary Ryan Mulqueen Enda Costello Tom McAuliffe with one other to be decided at a later date. The club has grown from strength to strength and it cost 13,000 euros to run last year making fundraising one of the priorities for the new committee.  Training resumes for u14s u16s u18s and Junior Bs next weekend all players will be notified by text in the next week. If anyone is interested in joining any of these teams please email or contact any of the committee members. We would be delighted to welcome new members to the club.

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Rights & Service

Exclusive Distribution for the Tandem Technology

The T/Mould Solution GmbH & Co. KG holds the sole rights to the worldwide used Tandem Technology for tools and distributes exclusively the resulting developed Locking Systems.

As developer and implementer T/Mould offers its customers the complete delivery and support service for the Tandem Technology with all its benefits.

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How is it possible to implement the Tandem Technology into an existing injection molding machine? T/Mould offers practical support and a complete consulting up to the implementation.

The purchase of a Locking System from T/Mould includes the full rights of the Tandem Technology for the equipped Tandem Tool. No additional license fees incur for already purchased Locking Systems.


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Betsy Stewart

Washington, DC artist Betsy Stewart creates luminous paintings of microscopic and macroscopic nature hidden from the naked eye: the layered interconnectivity that could represent origins of life in a drop of water or systems in the vast cosmos.
Betsy Stewart is a both a nationally and internationally recognized artist. Stewart’s recent solo exhibitions include venues in Denver, CO, NewOrleans LA, Vancouver, BC, Richmond, VA, and Washington, DC, as well as group exhibitions in New York, NY, Art Basel, Miami, FL, Toronto, Canada, Aix-en-Provence, France, and Montevideo, Uruguay. Stewart’s work is included in museum and corporate collections such as Corcoran Gallery of Art, Kreeger Museum, Ogden Museum of Southern Art, Adirondack Museum, Bellagio Hotel, Embassy of Finland, Washington Convention Center and World Bank Headquarters. Her work has been exhibited in many worldwide American embassies as part of the US Department of State’s Art in Embassies Program. In addition to other awards, Stew art has been a recipient of four Award Grants from The DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities.


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Wednesday, January 13, 2010

The year of the mobile gaming wars

When Apple has a major product launch coming (the tablet, duh), a possible iPhone form factor refresh, and something on the iPod Touch side, it's important to examine one of the core compentencies of the App Store. That would be gaming. Reading Cringely's 2010 Apple predictions column has me thinking and anticipating what he might have to say tomorrow on and Android and the intgriguing Nokia partnership. (what??) But it makes clear that Apple has the cash and the need to do something only major gaming companies have done so far, and Microsoft who needed to shore up the Xbox, buy a game maker.

This may come as somewhat of a suprise to the hardcore gamers out there who are sure Windows is the only OS for them, but Apple computers have no hardware deficit featuring late nvidia graphics processing units (GPUs), only a, possibly perceived, lack of drivers. And a much more noticible lack of interest due to receiving most of the hot titles late if ever. If Apple owned a major publisher they could of course have an exclusive if not a simulataneous launch of the PC version (Mac version?) on OSX. At the same time they could have a library of games for the iPhone, iPod Touch, The tablet (I won't guess at a name), and maybe a new Apple TV (which could easily be a TV connected to a Time Capsule remotely).

So follow up with Cringely's columns tomorrow and feel free to comment here if you wish.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

On the Eve of the Nexus

The Google Nexus One is upon us, like the stress of Christmas and New Years, the hoopla will come and go quickly enough. Also like the Holiday Season it's a time of relection as well as looking forward.

There is really nothing quite like the appearance of the Apple iPhone almost four short years ago in terms of the it profound implications it has had on the mobile market and the role of the carriers in our technological lives. A few aspects of the Nexus recall that time however. Let's start with reviewing what we know.

It's manufactured by HTC and resembles a larger Hero or Droid Eris, with the characteristic Android trackball and four fixed function silkscreened touch-sensitive keys. It has a screen exceeding WVGA resolution and is powered by a Qualcomm Snapdragon QSD8x50 system on a chip. In the United States it's destined for T-Mobile whose improving 3G network capacity will be put to the test. It has a 1Ghz clocked Cortex-A8 core nestled in the system on a chip, making it the fastest Android device on the market with an ARM cpu. Even still, it's ATI second generation mobile graphics processor is outclassed by the PowerVR in the Droid/Milestone, the same core used in the Palm Pre and iPhone 3gs. Also, we have on some authority knowledge that it (or an unanounced follow on) will allow complete custom software replacements to be installed without complicated work-arounds through an OEM mode in it's bootloader.

This brings us to what we don't know, as Google piles service upon service, some will see glory and other fade anonymously back into 404, and product upon product, at the very least Android and the Chrome OS so far, into the already cloudy (ugh) picture that is the mobile OS and web.

Is it the Wave Phone yet?

Yes, Google Wave is revolutionary. No, you shouldn't care yet. It's only when you take a look at the whole picture that you see the significance and the promise of a large-screened keyboardless device. It's not exactly for voice or for text, so it must be about multimedia, maybe short bits of text with pictures shot or chosen or pulled from an equiped camera over WiFi, maybe maps or other widgets so you can tell someone where to go or how to get there. Maybe you just want to keep an eye on what you desktop-using collegues are doing. Wave will do all of this and even more, but not before the whole of Google Docs, the old Jotspot wiki, new collaberation features for attached documents, project, Gantt charts, spreadsheets and forms all get thrown in the mix. Maybe then it won't matter whether you are a gmail user who keeps that constantly updating Inbox open in your Chrome of Firefox browser, because Waves will be part of the conversation. Or you use a work email account with Google Apps because there too Wave will fill in the gaps you (and Microsoft) thought only SharePoint could. In both cases your Wave Phone will get every push, every update, see and play every video and voice recording, and let you add your thoughts or annotations from the bedside stand before drifting off in a multimedia story book on the same device. (Was that an Apple tablet crying?)

But until then there's the Nexus, whose first operating system is Android 2.1 with a new 3D navigation experience grafted on the existing and familiar Android interface with it's welcoming status bar icons. (Please see any of the many reviews, this is not first hand knowledge.) First operating system? Well, I'm a dreamer. Android has it's place and it's purpose which I feel is to provide an Apps environment somewhat like the iPhone does. Beyond this it exists to showcase Google services and the convenience a synced email and contacts backup provides, assumming your email provider is Google and you have a Google Experience Android phone. But is it the most effective at this task? I would argue no, though it's an improvement over other platforms for which Google has provided software, such as BlackBerry and Windows Mobile, in how the applications are delivered (mostly in the box) and how integrated they feel (it's the 'Google Experience' for a reason). Even still, many central services are relegated to an icon in a field of other icons, a democratization of sorts, but no better than on iPhone and other devices. Some things which we might assume would at the very epicenter of the experience, like sharing a game with friends on Google Talk, are nowhere to be found. Each developer is on their own in that endeavor. And the Market? By all accounts lacking, fragmented and not quite to the level of the iPhone Apps Store. There is a lot of potential in Android, it's ability to run the same applications on multiple types could prove useful, it also has a carefully designed user interface and layout system that can allow creating powerful applications for specific purposes with little effort.

What may be far more important is the changing landscape into which this new entry is being introduced. The initial offered iPhone plans predated the offering of unlimited voice plans by the major U.S. carriers outside of limited local offerings by primarily Sprint. They also predated most affordable data offerings for smartphones and other powerful mobile devices. The initial iPhone plans did provide some clarity into the mobile world, removing the concept of an iPhone user being unable to use their new device to it's potential for fear of additional data charges. The new Nexus plans appear to do the same thing, while considerably less generous than some other voice options, they do ensure the availability of data service when a Nexus device is activated on a contract with T-Mobile, at least according to the previously known details. The options when a Nexus device are purchased unlocked are to my knowledge not yet known.

Other Things

After a year of suspended signups, the GrandCentral service was relaunched as Google Voice with an initially limited number of invitations available to new users. Shorter afterward the Gizmo5 service and company were purchased in deal disclosed by both that company's website and Google themselves. The reason and future of the service is mostly unknown, signup for gizmo5, the gizmo project, and other related services which was previously widely available has ceased for the time being. This may portend the voice over internet protocol company being part of a future Google offering or it may not. This alone challenges the status quo of unlimited data and metered voice, as gizmo5 has in the past provided calling to numbers nationally at very low cost or even free, depending on how the calls is made. At the same time, Google Voice offers free call connection where either number can be any phone nationwide, and GOOG411 connects callers to businesses at no charge at the same time you phone company, fixed or cellular, may charge once for the directory listing and again for the connection. We can be pretty sure that Google is not offering free calls with your data plan, it's serious about keeping it's partners happy and upholding aggreements. This makes it difficult to see what exactly may be offered then, nothing is quite as obvious as the impossible.

I'm offering some thoughts and would like you to join in the conversation. Tell me what you like or dislike about Android, Chrome OS or your own device, and what you would like to see in a dream device.


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Does It Get Any Better?

I really have not been in a very Christmasy mood this year. I don’t know why exactly.

Maybe it’s because this is our first Christmas with no children left in the nest. Perhaps it is that Shannon is halfway around the world. Or, maybe I’ve just become an old Scrooge.

As a parent in a blended family (parents and step-children), Christmas has always been a struggle. Trying to arrange where the kids will be and when for the holidays was never easy. It always added an extra bit of stress.

Now that Amy is married with a blended family of her own, that pressure hasn’t gone away completely. But she and TJ always manage to work things out nicely. She and the kids will be coming here on Christmas Eve. We’re hoping Eric won’t have to work so that he can join us. Or maybe he’ll want to be here on Christmas morning. Maybe both.

But that still leaves Shannon. In India of all places for the Christmas holiday. I might be revealing some ignorance here, but that’s okay. I am not afraid to admit that I don’t know everything.

I always thought India was a Hindu and/or Muslim country. While the majority of the population is Hindu or Muslim, about 25% of Indians are Christians. Christmas is actually celebrated with quite a lot of fanfare in India. It is even a national holiday, so everyone, irrespective of their religion, gets to enjoy it along with the Christians.

Of course, that begs the question of whether it will it be harder for Shannon to be alone on Christmas in a nation that actually celebrates Christmas. Or would it be better in a place that doesn’t celebrate the holiday? So she doesn’t miss her family too terribly much?

We’ll never know. Because, although Shannon won’t be with us, she will not be alone for Christmas.

The way things have worked out, she is only in India now because of her visa delay (she had a hard time getting a visa). She is currently making her way across the northern parts of the country. By the time Christmas rolls around, she’ll be in the south, in a city called Bangalore.

The company I work for has a sizable operation in Bangalore. I don’t know many of my Indian coworkers well since we don’t speak often, mainly because of the time difference. But there’s a woman named Joyce who works in the Bangalore office doing the same job as me. We do interact by e-mail occasionally, so I sent her an e-mail asking if she had any recommendations to share with Shannon for her pending visit.

Shannon will be arriving in Bangalore on December 23rd or 24th.

While Joyce was more than willing to give Shannon some recommendations, she did even better. She invited Shannon to stay at her house and spend Christmas with her family.

Hubby and I were both quite touched by that very kind, generous and completely unexpected offer. I mean, Joyce has a husband and two daughters (ages 10 and 16 months). Who would ever think she would invite a stranger to her house for Christmas?

Well, Joyce did invite that stranger (Shannon) to stay. And Shannon accepted. So Shannon will get to spend Christmas with a family after all.

Not just any family, either. A very special family with children. A Christian family that celebrates Christmas like we do.

While I know Shannon will miss everyone over the holidays, I think it is her niece and nephews that she’ll miss the most. Because children are what makes Christmas so magical.

As I have told Joyce, we will never be able to thank her enough for opening her home and heart to our daughter. Of course, knowing what a special person Shannon is, I know Joyce won’t be sorry. And apparently Joyce’s oldest daughter is already making plans for Shannon’s visit.

I don’t think it does get any better. I’ve got some Christmas spirit now!

2 Replies to “Does It Get Any Better?”

  1. Aaaaaw, that's so sweet. I'm glad you've got the spirit! I'm excited to get away from extended family negativity. Blended families are definitely difficult especially when you have a blended family yourself and your spouse has a large blended family that includes a manipulative, psychotic mother-in-law!

  2. Shoot. Now I'm crying because I'm thinking about just how much I will miss the kids this Christmas (and the rest of the family, of course). But being with Joyce and her kids should be nice. It was very sweet for her to offer to host me.

Comments are closed.


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The smart Trick of big tobacco and pharma gain most from vaping regulations That Nobody is Discussing

Although this is a lead to for celebration, its not the perfect time to pop open up the champagne flavored e-liquid just nonetheless. The marketplace and Group continue to deal with many big challenges, and a hurdles up forward.

States which might be getting rid of MSA funds due to people who swap to vapor must not glimpse into the vaping general public to doot their negative determination borrowing. Doing this would deter persons from the safer choice. And eventually, the FDA desires to control vapor solutions in a rational framework to protect the general public, not address it similar to a tobacco products. It’ vapor not smoke!

Maybe along facet Major Pharma rate regulation, a repeal into the FDA vape regulations plus a substitution with much more realistic regulation could be launched. Having said that, the Tobacco organizations must be sued with the nose for his or her part in these stupid regulations.

At such a risky time for the vape business, it’s a relief to see some environment leaders basically approaching vaping logically.

I haven't any challenge with a few regulation of e-cigarettes. But much of the is simply ridicules. I don’t head them listing the components, the requiring evidence of age ahead of order … etc. But having to file an software which has a significant fee to vary 1 item … to vary a battery or the kind of cotton within a coil is flat out Silly. The FDA ought to make this about general public basic safety and wellness … not halting an market that they don’t get paid to control.

An normally neglected actuality is the fact Facebook, Google and various big platforms categorize vaping underneath tobacco.

This news comes at a time when anti vaping propaganda hasn't been increased. The vape marketplace is dealing with opposition from many authorities organizations, along with the media.

In 2015, England moved on the forefront of a comparatively honest and audio method of vaping. Turning out to be a number one example of how A serious globe governing administration could preserve the rights and freedoms of its citizens to adopt vaping, although concurrently protecting their motivation to the increased general public’s overall health and basic safety.

Nonetheless, the most nonsensical aspect of the e-cigarette regulations is the way they shield the product sales of the real tobacco cigarettes that are killing a huge selection of A large number of People in america every year.

But The dearth of widespread feeling doesn’t conclude there. By banning new and improved solutions from the market, the FDA will almost certainly significantly stifle product innovation, thus making sure which the items that continue to be out there tend to be the most harmful and minimum powerful vaping items feasible.

For the casual observer, that categorization may well not seem like it issues Substantially. In the end, at the conclusion of the day, although vaping is not really smoking cigarettes, it resembles the act of it, so whats the big offer?

“E-cigarettes are a grave danger to the public well being”. In 2014 the ACS updated there outlook with the post titled “E-cigarettes – It’s Challenging” stating that “far more impartial, objective information is needed.”

For several years, smokers who ended up trying to Give up their lethal habit ended up confronted with only two possibilities: Going chilly turkey or working with some type of nicotine substitution therapy (gum, patches, etc). Most folks have difficulties preventing their nicotine cravings when going chilly turkey, in order that they went in droves to their area pharmacies to shell out for pricey nicotine patches and gum during the hopes of having the ability to little by little taper off their cravings. For many years this has triggered huge and predictable earnings for your titans on the drug business. Whether the nicotine go right here substitution therapies had been productive or not was irrelevant.

Past 7 days we documented the rise of vaping in the U.K. and the escalating range of smokers who've made the swap to vapor from tobacco. Nowadays we have been fired up to report a major milestone for vaping in The usa has become accomplished:

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Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Some women matter

But not this one. After all, she's just a whore.

This story highlights some of the more horrifying rape myths that still circulate in this society.

The basic myth that some girls matter. Other girls don't. You can't rape a ho. Or if you do, it's really no big deal.

Police Officer Scott Antoniak (pictured above) was working a prostitution sting when he groped Michelle Wright. After that he picked up another prostitute and gave her three options: Point out crack houses, perform oral sex on him or go to jail. She initially refused to point out crack homes or perform oral sex, but as he drove closer to the jail, she gave in. But she was smart.

"When she was done, she spat his semen onto an identification card. The next day, Omaha police tested the semen - and it matched Antoniak's DNA. Omaha police fired him six weeks later."

Hmmm, first question...? SIX WEEKS? REALLY?

"Antoniak denied assaulting the victim or groping Wright."

Of course he did.

The irony only gets stronger...

"Wright, a recovering crack addict, has been handcuffed and carted to jail every time she has been arrested for prostitution, a misdemeanor. Yet, as she sat outside a courtroom she couldn't comprehend why a judge declined to slap any handcuffs - or jail time - on a former Omaha police officer convicted of sexually assaulting a prostitute in his cruiser."

You heard right, sexual assaulting a woman and groping another while working on the city's dime is really no big deal. Antoniak lost his job but his first-degree sexual assault garnered him no jail time, even though he was eligible for 50 years. Instead he received 5-years probation.

According to Antoniak's lawyer, Mike Fabian, the sentence was completely appropriate due to the cop's "spotless record before this incident and letters of support from 35 friends and family members." You see, the prostitute has a less than spotless record and apparently no caring family, so she's just screwed. According to a psychologist, Antoniak is a low risk to re-offend or be violent. Because forcing a woman to perform sex on you while wearing a gun and abusing a severe position of power is clearly not violent in the first place.

The judge's wrist slap is perhaps most offensive of all:

"For about 21/2 hours, you abused your authority. As a result of that, you lost your job. You shamed yourself. You embarrassed your family. And you disrespected your wife."

What about the OTHER woman he disrespected? What about the damage you did to this woman and the shame you caused her? Yeah, why bother mentioning her? It was just a regular Tuesday for her, right? Except she didn't get paid.

"The judge also ordered Antoniak to read the victim's statement of how the incident affected her. He then ordered Antoniak to write a letter of apology to the woman, to Wright and to Omaha police."

Good idea in theory. The cop had other plans.

"Antoniak apologized to the judge, to his family and to the department for the 'shame and embarrassment and pain I've caused everyone.' He didn't apologize to the assault victim."

But then why would he apologize? He clearly viewed this woman as less than human. Someone he could degrade, disrespect and terrorize without any second thought. And this sentence completely validates that.

This story reminds me in many ways of the media reaction to the Duke case. There's no way you can rape a stripper, or a whore... or if you take it any further... you can't rape a woman with a questionable reputation... or really any woman, since we all know that women are hussies who are responsible for all violence committed against them.

But you could take the Duke connection a step further and witness AGAIN how the sports culture can validate and even condone these attitudes.

"Mike Denney came to Antoniak's defense. The University of Nebraska at Omaha wrestling coach attended the sentencing, then threw his arm around Antoniak's father as they left the courtroom, teary-eyed.

Denney said character was never a question with Antoniak, a two-time All-American wrestler.

'I've been coaching for 38 years,' Denney said, 'and have been around hundreds of people. All I can say is he's a great young man.'

A GREAT YOUNG MAN? That's the label you give to someone who sexually assaults women?

But once again, she was a ho, so it doesn't matter.

Ugh, I could just puke.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Military cover-ups

This story is sad on so many levels.

But I think it's really worth mentioning that Jessica Lynch was sexually assaulted-- a common tactic used in war to devalue a people. The American public at large is now becoming aware that officials in government have been floating lies about these specific cases of Tillman and Lynch. Trying to make heroic stories and Hollywood-like plots out of the true, horrific situations of war.

People are shot by friendly fire, people see their friends shot and killed in front of them, women are constantly sexually assaulted in war as a tactic of fear and degradation.

If our government will use its own military heroes to try and rally cultural support of the war, what else will they stoop to?

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Virginia Tech

Something about this tragedy has really gotten to me. I was tearing up watching the news last night. It's just such a pointless waste-- so many talented, amazing lives lost and for no reason.

Details are still emerging but one theory that has been circulated in several stories--- that the tragedy ignited with an initial act of domestic violence. A man gunning down his ex-girlfriend. Which is so ho-hum normal that campus and police figured there was no need to shut down classes for the day. In fact, you can bet if this tragedy had ended there, most of America would not even hear about it because the truth of domestic violence ending in murder is so common in this country. Mere weeks ago an ex-girlfriend was tracked down, strangled, cut into pieces and barbequed. Yet, that story was a flash in the pan.

Another fabulous blog, Dakota Women, calls attention to this history of shootings and their implications in light of violence against women.

The media is skipping over this detail in most of their coverage. Yes, the story is still fresh & to be fair families are still being notified. However, I can only pray that this discussion will come up in the days ahead. Our country has consistently turned a blind eye to the serious and very real epidemic that is domestic violence.
It hurts men, women and children and we need to stop the silence.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Thankfully someone did it better

Gotta love Feministing

Fine, I'll talk about it -- Duke lacrosse

I am such a weenie. I keep checking other blogs to see who will post on Duke Lacrosse first so I don't have to... maybe everyone else is planning on ignoring it. Probably not a bad call. Writing about this is sort of like bending over and offering the trolls a place to kick.

But you know, watching the press conference last night I just couldn't help rolling my eyes. And yes, I realize I'm horribly biased because yeah, my entire job is about believing victims. And I tend to think that there are few women who would put themselves through the shit storm of a rape accusation, forensic exam, trial, scrutiny etc.

I don't pretend to know for sure ANYTHING about this Duke case. I was not this woman's advocate and I know very little specifics. I know from reading one article that one of the key discrepancies was that the woman could no longer testify to being penetrated by a penis. Not really surprising considering many women experience blackouts or suffer rape trauma that can disorient memories of the attack. Also alcohol is a factor in over half of all reported acquaintance rapes. Alcohol, as we know can royally screw with memory.

I watched the three players and I tried not to judge. If they are innocent, I pity them. However, when one of the players talked about all the injustice the media showed them my response was, Ummm, wha?

I recall most pundits siding with the players. Rush Limbaugh called the woman a “ho” and countless others referred to her as simply “the stripper.” And if you google Duke Lacrosse, more articles come up promoting the player’s innocence. One article even claims the woman just wanted money. If you search You Tube there are plenty of videos dedicated to the innocence of the players and the bad, bad villains who dared to support a woman who claimed she was raped. One You Tuber called the woman a “nappy headed ho” – my how pop-culture aware the trolls are getting.

If you search "duke lacrosse" on networking sites like facebook there are hundreds of "duke is innocent" groups. The few groups that are dedicated to guilt are clearly not built on discussion but on anger and most posts are angry supporters of Duke players who call the woman a "lying whore" who had semen from "at least five other guys in her" -- a common myth floating around.

Yes, it’s true that these men are innocent until proven guilty (even though, based on the stats, I assumed their guilt) and they surely did have some vocal opponents, I think they are mistaking media scrutiny with simple media coverage.

Perhaps these men were judged before their day in court (I know I did) but most of the reaction was understandable. The team was suspended as they should have been for throwing a party with hired strippers and booze. The coach should have been held responsible for the bad judgment and irresponsible behavior of his team. Furthermore the woman was judged and is still being judged. Common misunderstanding seems to be that these charges were dropped because this woman was a liar. These charges were dropped because there was insufficient evidence to proceed. As in no DNA – which can be explained, especially in light of the fact that the woman was not sure if she was penetrated with a penis or something else.

All I know is that something about three privileged white boys whining on about injustice when they had plenty of media support is severely annoying. How about all the women (and for that matter) men who are sexually assaulted everyday and they have no support from the legal system? Or they can’t prove their claims or they are too ashamed to even come forward in the first place? What about the culture where women can no longer except support for charging high-profile athletes with rape (duke lacrosse, Kobe Bryant cases). Rather they’re called “hos” and accused of digging for money or fame.

Certainly false accusations can happen but I don’t believe it’s common (and stats support me). With the lacrosse players officially declared innocent (they spelled it and everything) this whole outcome is going to have some disturbing fallout to an already “victim un-friendly” culture.

Watch and see


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Monday, January 2, 2012

Christmas Recap: Part 3

I left off my Christmas story on the morning of Christmas Eve.  After getting home, putting away toys, playing with Connor, and making corn pudding for our next stop, we were off to my grandparents' house to celebrate with the Egnews.

Tradition is to eat, listen to Grandpa read the Christmas story, and then open gifts (the cousins all exhange names and the adults bring gift cards and play Dirty Santa).

Allison's delicious crescent-wrapped Brie

dinner at Gma Egnew's

exchanging gifts -- I got an adorable apron and recipe book from Kim, and Jason got a C.S. Lewis book and some shaving goodies.

Connor opening his gifts -- everyone was so generous and thoughtful

Although I did question why Allison and Travis got Connor a toy which included a "Laura Giganotosaurus"  :)

C with Gma Egnew

Connor grabbed Grandma's devotional book and proceeded to open it and say:  "Once upon a time.  Jesus.  The end."  I think he pretty much got the main point.  :)

Our last stop before heading home was to the Christmas Eve service at our church.  I love this service, its meaning, the fact that our family is all together, and putting the focus back on Christ's birth, but with all that said, the service is at 10 p.m., which has made, for the past two years, a very unhappy Connor in the audience.  I am hoping that it will get easier as he gets older, but for now, once he gets too tired but can't get fall asleep, a meltdown ensues, which lead to Connor, Mom, and me taking him home early, Jason (who plays in the praise band) riding home with my dad and Linds, and missing the gorgeous rendition of "Silent Night."

Thankfully, Jason got a verse of it on video from his spot on stage, so I was able to enjoy it, at least in part.

Connor was, of course, sound asleep by the time we got home.  We tucked him in, filled the stockings, set out his presents, and went to sleep, anxiously awaiting his reaction the next morning.

Part 4 will include Christmas morning at home and Christmas afternoon/evening with Jason's family in Louisville.

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Saturday, November 25, 2006

Apologies again!

I like to apologise again for another lack of posts. Unfortunately, I have lost my job in Bath, and I have temporarily moved to my home town (Plymouth) until I can find another one.

In the meantime, I will attempt to make some new posts, including more rare cartoon titles and DVD reviews.

Talking about DVDs, I did plan to post a review of At Last The 1948 Show and Do Not Adjust Your Set a few months back, but due to recent problems and the passing of time, I have decided to abandon it. But look out for a DVD review of an award-winning 1968 ITV drama that looks at the lives of an imperial Roman family.


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Main menu

Postgraduate Forum

Saturday, March 10, 2018 -
9:00am to 5:00pm
Oxford Brookes University, Headington Campus, Headington Road, OX3 0BP
HB 203, John Henry Brookes Building

This Postgraduate Forum will feature brief presentations by postgraduate students from across the disciplines relating to the series.  Click here to view the call for papers.

This exciting Postgraduate Creative Forum explores and compares the ways in which commemorative practices across cultures both contribute to and challenge post-war reconstruction and reconciliation. The one-day event is aimed at postgraduate students across the Humanities and Social Sciences. You are invited to showcase your work in short presentations (max. 5 minutes) and there will also be discussion and activities exploring how creative and sensorial thinking might illuminate and enrich your research.

Contact name:
Catherine Gilbert
Open to all