Oneirotsai

Style, Cramped

2011-04-12T02:25:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking lately about the nature of 'blog', less as an overarching froofy philosophical term and more as how I execute. Meaning I don't want to sit here and debate conceptua obscura; rather I've been thinking more about what sort of thing *my* blog is. And what I don't want it to be.

When I started blogging it was actually to fulfill an assignment for a Japanese class, and I had to blog a certain amount in Japanese. Coincidentally, a friend was trying to get me to start, and I didn't really figure out the whole website thing (I still don't quite get website things, to be honest), but Livejournal as a service materialized and so I made use of it. Back before it turned all social-ads-icons-groups, instead of being about blogs and writing them. Eh, to each service its own spin and persona, I guess. I miss Livejournal in its old incarnation; I liked its customization, its use of posting avatars, and its simplicity. Gotta be honest Blogger, I'm just not as happy with the look and flow of things here as I was there.

But the blog stuck around, and though a great deal of it was event-by-event, I delved into more and more introspection. I had my own system of avatars and I liked it; though I never came out and explained anything, I used my 'free three' to full effect. I had 'normal', 'serious', and 'whimsical'-- it was like a 'primitive' form of tagging, but I loved it for its visual element. Tags these days, though useful, just don't seem to capture it for me like my little carefully cropped icons did.

So now I'm over at Blogger and it's alright. I don't know, I always feel so cramped here. Perhaps it's the layouts, or something. I ain't gonna lie, there is a part of me that might start looking to switch blog services again. See if I can't dig up something more like Livejournal used to be.

Because, after analyzing a few *other* blogs, I'm increasingly wondering what the hell 'blogging' really means as a generally defined concept. People talk about avoiding 'walls of text', they splice in the strangest of pictures only vaguely connecting to the subject matter, and link like crazy. Me? I just want someplace to talk my thoughts out. And as Faithful Readers know, sometimes it takes walls, floors, and ceilings of text to exhaust them. My thoughts are not easily wearied and worn out, though they do weary and wear on me often.

I am a curious writer, in that I am an enormously *visual* writer. I'm not talking necessarily about stuffing the sentences full of fancy imagery. I'm talking about how I have a deep deep interest in the look of a sentence and how the words are falling into place apart from the semantics. Yes yes, semantics are important, no arguments there! And I'm not talking about producing the most flowery and meandering writing, either. No, there is something in the look, the line and form of words that stitches them together. Part of it comes from my vivid synethesia-based colored letters and words, but there is a huge phonological element that I think few people realize means a lot to me when writing. I make no secret of being aurealogically challenged, but in the interweaving of the visual look of words and how they sound out, it is the closest I come to composing musically.

And so, as I ponder blogs and why I have always endured a certain amount of discomfort here at Blogger, I think there is something about the way a blog 'feels' when it is looked at. Yes, I am crossing senses again, why ever not with my track record?

I speak of the 'feel' of things so very often. I never thought I was much of a tactile person but I spend so much time analyzing and attuning to the tactile 'feel' of what I interact with in life. My keyboard, for example. I have typed on many many keyboards, and I have purchased one--not some fancy ergonomic one, not a special gamer one, nothing like that-- but rather the simple flat and brushed metal apple keyboard. I love the tactile feel of typing with it. I can't explain it. But to write on other keyboards gives me the same cramped, 'this-feels-off' feeling that Blogger does when I blog. And as a regular ol' human being, I will of course not want to do things that I don't enjoy the tactile feel of nearly as often as the things I do. Hence, perhaps, the relative lack of posting here at Stage 2 in relation to Stage 1.

Though I have made a big deal about the audience not mattering, with Stage II there is this definite feel of having ended up in some dark, forgotten corner of the internet. Perhaps many a person is reading, but whether or not that is the case there is something about the way Blogger feels to me that makes me feel more alone. Like I am in a dark alley somewhere, when my other blog, though also often dark in color, felt more like a storefront on a more well-traveled road. Perhaps that was because I was networked in with several classmates and friends who also had Livejournals, and so we all could read each others' words and post back and forth. That really doesn't happen here. Then again, I have lost most if not all my friends that I know who blog for one life reason or another, and of course classmates move on. Still, perhaps some of that was part of the nostalgia. I mean, any writer who's practiced at it has a far more acute sense of who the audience is than perhaps even they might want to admit. I may have said I blogged at Stage I for everyone and no one, but I know the truth deep down. I was blogging to the people I knew were reading it in some measure. It was like facebook, but the 'status updates' had no character count limit.

So perhaps Stage II in some measure has been good for me, because I have done a lot more blogging to a 'faceless' audience. I don't know who's paying attention or not, if anyone. So the writing I think is getting a little more honest. BUT-- well, without an audience, a writer feels increasingly lost, increasingly hopeless. Though I say I don't want to be a slave of The Audience, deep down, every writer seeks validation and approval through their readers. Even those that write to shock and dismay, in that is their validation. But take away the readers themselves, and trap the writer in a hell wherein their words full of meaning ne'er fall upon ears or into eyes of an audience, and the futility of it all will crush them.

What I'm saying is I can perhaps only speak to perceived emptiness for so long before wandering off to find something else to do with my time.

Silly Faithful Readers! I am not DEMANDING you to be more vocal. Just further extrapolating on the situation concerning likely why I haven't been posting much if at all. After all, readers can be double-edged, can they not? They got OPINIONS, and often they want to share them. And hey, this is my blog, with MY opinions! Right?!

That is another aspect of the blog I wrestle with. Being so much of me, it's going to be completely steeped and soaked in bias. I'm a dumb person thinking I'm a smart person by feigning ignorance and humility-- the human condition, essentially-- and that is not the most compelling of advertisements for what the rest of the world should be reading. Any blogger thinking they can present unbiased information is deluded, or else lying to its readers; any blogger that by the same token embraces their bias to the exclusion of the search for truth is just narcissistic and totally self-absorbed. But everything is tinged and tainted. It's just a question of what that stain will be-- and now we are back to the performer and the audience.

Because that is what a blog really seems to be. This is a form of theatre, with we the writers dancing before an audience and presenting all manner of plays. Some of us want more audience interaction than others, and some of us prefer to be left alone to create *art*. I think, in great measure, blogging is a form of creative expression for me, an art project if you will. I have used the metaphor of sketching in words before, it's definitely true. Some of my ideas are better explored than others; some are just rants; some are bragging lists of accomplishments. Whatever it is though, it is all built upon this silly and precarious premise that my life and thoughts and words are *important*, important enough for others to take time out of their precious short lives to read through it all. Which is really very silly, when it comes down to it. Yes, here I am, the writer telling the reader they are foolish for reading. Well, not necessarily for reading, but perhaps questioning your subject matter-- the writer herself. Who NOW is more foolish, the audience or the writer who just got rid of her audience? ...Wait.

And yet, the writer cannot stop writing. Even in a cramped space such as this. Or perhaps in a project ultimately meant for publication, or what. But yeah, I still write. And maybe I'll be looking for a place to write with a better 'feel' to it. But I don't think I'm quite done blogging by any means.

Current Tea: Pomegranate Hibiscus
Current Music: Seven Curses by Solas
Current Project: Getting some more writing in Planned Story done. Did you know I'm 370-some pages in, working on the final arc of the second book, and still limping along? LIMPING, mind you, but still writing.

In Like A Rant

2011-04-07T17:05:00.000-04:00

Hai all! Long time no type.

This blog was founded mostly for my own writing practice, and I will admit it feeds off my grand delusion that sharing my life in a social media format is somehow interesting to those aside from me. Sometimes this delusion is fed through rants, because who DOESN'T like reading about people complaining? Seriously, there is some sort of sick perversion going on, and I'm as guilty as the next person of it.

Anyway. This rant is mostly a World of Warcraft-y type one, to answer all the whining about this. If the article makes no sense to you, I doubt the following rant will either. In this particular case, I am not asking that all my readers understand the topic. I'm more using the blog purely to blow off steam and perhaps exercise some furious but logic-driven argument construction. But with having not written in nearly four months, I doubt anyone will notice it's here anyway .

***
To those upset with the proposed Call To Arms addition to the LFG Dungeon Finder by Blizzard, I humbly put forth some thoughts for your consideration.

First off, the Random Dungeon Finder is an ENTIRELY VOLUNTARY service Blizzard is providing. No one is forcing you to use it to get your daily in. You are completely free to advertise in trade/LFG channels, find guildies, and in general go about it ‘the old fashioned’ way. “But that takes worrrrrrrrrrrk.” Yes, it does take some effort to do it without waiting an hour in queue. You don’t have to play this game if you don’t enjoy it.

Second, Blizzard is answering the overwhelming wave of DPS QQ as to their insanely long queue times. They are trying to make it BETTER for those that have already decided they prefer to play the game without taking on the ‘extra responsibility’ roles of Healer or Tank. The core problem is that there are few people that want to tank or heal. You would THINK an instant queue would be incentive enough to get people to tank. Why are they not flocking to the tanking role in droves, then? Why do people remain DPS despite the long queue? Sometimes it is purely for love of class. But in many cases, it is because these people, if they try tanking, do not want to put up with the critical and selfish attitudes of DPS. Also, perhaps because it is more fun being a critical and selfish DPS than to be a tank or a healer.

The cataclysm class and dungeon designs have made it more difficult for a tank and a healer to ‘carry’ poor dps. However, it is still common practice to blame the healer and/or tank for wipes. Everyone has a responsibility, and Blizzard has been working on adding to DPS responsibility in this xpac. This is of course going to be an unpleasant experience for the DPS who have coasted along with little responsibility in the previous xpac’s dungeons. They will continue to blame the healer/tank for wipes, whether it was truly their fault or not. This xpac, and what Blizzard has been doing, has been unabashedly engaging in the process of ‘raising’ DPS out of this coasting mindset. It is unpleasant, and there has been/will be much QQing. ‘Oh, this is a GAME, it’s supposed to be FUN, I don’t want to do anything that’s not FUN’. Yes, it is a game. And yes, for the most part, it is designed to deliver enjoyment to its players. But, like participating in sports, you have a role with responsibilities. Blizzard has chosen to try and equalize the weight of those responsibilities. If you don’t like it, by all means go find some other game. That is fewer DPS in the queue… which, coincidentally, ALSO contributes to solving the core problem!

Next, there are cases of people never having played the tank role for one reason or another—they’ve only played one class, they’re new, or perhaps they are too nervous to try and learn to tank in the presence of complete and utterly critical strangers. The Dungeon Finder, contrary to our whiny sense of entitlement, never promises us good players in the randomizer. Nor does it promise masters of any of the roles. People cannot learn new things if they do not try, fail, make mistakes, and try again. To walk into a dungeon experience and not give a learning tank, healer, OR dps the benefit of the doubt and the patience through their honest mistakes not only does a disservice to them, it does not promote growth as players. So you have to put up with a wipe for a tank who fumbled his aggro management, or for a healer who missed a GCD and let the tank die. Which is going to contribute to that tank/healer getting better: ‘Do you know what you did wrong? What can we do better? Don’t worry, just try not to do it again’… or ‘WTF FAIL TANK’. And, as we have covered earlier, we need more tanks and healers. Getting them trained past the learning stages is critical.

Which leads me to the Incentives. Blizzard is trying to make it more worth our while to attempt the tanking (and to some degree the healing) roles. They are trying to outweigh the anxiety that comes from learning something new and putting up with the unknown of possibly unpleasant people in the group. Blizzard is trying to RAISE new tanks and healers by giving people more a reason to expose themselves to those classes—because unless people learn and get good at tanking/healing, they will not want to do it. Even if they try it and don’t particularly like it, it gives them a better understanding and empathy for a role they may have previously derided. In the post, Blizzard comes right out and says it: “Understandably, players prefer to take on that responsibility in more organized situations than what the Dungeon Finder offers, but perhaps we can bribe them a little. While this system gives tanks and healers something extra, the incentive is being provided so that we can help players in the DPS role get into more dungeons, get better gear, and continue progressing.”. Blizzard is FULLY AWARE they are bribing their players, but look at their MOTIVES—to help out the player base as a whole. They are bribing one set of players so the other set can get what they have been wanting and QQing about not having. DPS, take the offered help and quit yer whining.

“But this means that people who have always tanked and enjoyed instaqueues get MORE stuff,” the QQing continues. “That’s not fair! And tanks have a self-righteous attitude anyway! Why reward that??” Keep in mind, you have to FINISH THE DUNGEON to get your reward. Yeah, tanks can drop and start again. But there is now MORE incentive for a tank to stay with the group! Also, EVERY ROLE in this game suffers from arrogant, self-righteous players. Tanks seem more obvious since they often need to direct the group due to their pulling responsibilities. But not every self-confident tank is being bossy just to irritate everyone. Being bossy is often the only way to get those not used to mutual dungeon responsibility to pull their weight. Even more so when people are tunnel-visioned and hell-bent on working as little as possible at their role, masking their laziness with the mantra ‘but I just want to play what’s most fun to me’. If what is most fun to you is pulling aggro over the tank and then dying because the healer has gone OOM trying to keep you up through it, there is going to be a problem. It is not your role to top the meters. It is your role to MANAGE YOUR AGGRO. If you don’t like this responsibility, then go find a different game to play.

Let’s not point any martyr fingers either. DPS think they are sacrificing SO MUCH for waiting in their queues SO LONG. Tanks think they are sacrificing SO MUCH for putting up with everyone’s nub mistakes. Healers think they are sacrificing SO MUCH for healing through the nub mistakes. We all think we have it the worst, that no other role could POSSIBLY understand how hard we have it, and what we have to put up with. I’m seeing a pattern among us all—we all think we’ve got it worst.

I am not saying ‘excuse every tank for their behavior’. But let’s take the planks out of our own eyes before going after the specks in others’. Every single one of us knows the pain of having to put up with an arrogant or oblivious idiot in our random dungeon group. Tank, Healer, DPS—it makes no difference. We as humans by nature are inherently selfish people. Entering into the task of completing a dungeon with 4 other strangers is going to set 5 peoples’ selfishnesses against each other. This is not an issue of ‘OMG Blizzard is giving tanks SO MUCH INCENTIVE it’s not FAIR’. This is an issue of Blizzard trying to help its players out and grow them in understanding, patience, and empathy. Heaven forbid a game might teach us something as wild as ‘maturity’.

Ultimately: No one is FORCING anyone to switch roles. If you want to keep playing DPS, play DPS. No one is forcing you to use the Dungeon Finder. But shut up about Blizzard not doing anything to help you. They have, and continue to do so. No, they are not pandering to your instant gratification. They are working on your LONGTERM gratification. And anyone who is sacrificing the former while focusing on the latter on your behalf is far more trustworthy and benevolent than the former.

***

Rolling Ball

2010-12-01T14:33:00.000-05:00

So just because I was curious, I took a look at my word count for November, just to see how I stack up in the NaNoWriMo 'competition'. I really got very little done in November, 1.5 chapters all told. The start of the month I was still reeling with a decisive 'I don't know if this is worth continuing with' mindset. You know, lots of depression and futility and all that. I did finally get the writing started again; though the holidays always put an awful wrench in my writing plans, this week has been kind of amazing. I've written eleven pages so far over these past three days, and I'm hopefully not done for the day.

But anyway! Word count. 1.5 chapters is about 15,000 words for me, which obviously averages to about 10k words per chapter. Which ALSO means every 5 chapters I write is considered a novel by NaNoWriMo. Which ALSO ALSO means that my first book, according to them, is very nearly 5 novels long, and my second one is over 4 and still going strong. ...I'm not quite sure what conclusions to draw about this.

But in the name of countering futility, I will dwell purposefully on the fact that 15,000 words is much more than 0 words. 15,000 more. I am inching my way closer and closer to the halfway point in this huge project. Which is kind of amazing to think about, and kind of scary.

You know what's also scary? I was thinking the other night, it took me about 6 months of drafting time to write Book 1. It has taken me 18 months of drafting to not quite finish Book 2. Pardon my internet language, but WTF happened??

Worldly distractions aside, Book 2's content was exponentially harder to work through than Book 1. I remember spending weeks of frustrated time making chart after colored chart of the first major arc within Book 2, twisting and tweaking at it to make things all work in harmony. I'm all kinds of proud how it turned out, it's an epic arc spanning 2 novels worth of word counts. But I didn't handle it as well as I could have. That arc threatened to break me. I very nearly didn't make it through.

But here we are now, on what I, er, think is the final arc of Book 2, and I am thankful things are proceeding so quickly. It's very possible, that because I have been looking forward to this particular arc for so long, that a lot more is worked out and set-in-stone-ified, so I have less to worry about. Or I could have just gotten lucky and managed to put things together in a way that hasn't required a lot of tweaking yet. YET. There is much yet to be done; we are still setting up the Main Events.

The other aspect of this book that has been holding me up with much angst and frustration is that Second Main Character. My ardent goal in this story is to truly have two full main characters. I want readers to enjoy reading both sides of the plot, to relate to them both in different ways, to love and hate them both. The problem is that I am having trouble showing my love to this Second Main Character in my writing. Yes, I love him very much; I have a greater picture in my head of the path he travels and the changes that will come to him. But right now, he is a very difficult sort to write. And I fear that because I don't enjoy writing him as much, readers will not enjoy reading him as much. I *do* enjoy reading what I've written of him; I think that I often compensate my troubles with the struggles to write the emotional interaction with those around him by putting him through some of the more creative and generally fun events.

Part of my recent analysis of him (which I think I have mentioned in a recent blog entry?) has determined that I need to add scenes to Book 1 focusing on him, increasing time with him for the Reader, and spending time putting more emphasis on his positive qualities. He has them, I promise you! I have just been spending far more time putting him in situations where the more negative ones are drawn out.

So this is all well and good, but I'm a little nervous about coming into this current arc with him. This will be the first one in awhile where he and the First Main Character will find their paths directly tangling up. Though I am not enthusiastic to do it, I am gearing myself up for an emotional leap with him-- a purposeful gap between where he currently is in my development of his character and where he needs to be going into this arc. This will mean a lot of extra work adjusting everything comes previous, but... well, he can't advance in the state he's in! But I'm not sure now is the time to walk away from everything current and go back to rewrite everything he's involved in. I mean, maybe that's what I'll end up doing! But I fear breaking the current flow I have. So I think I'm going to try and take a chronological leap of faith with his character, and see how that goes.

A new holiday looms here soon, and there is much to be done to prepare for it. I know that means I'm going to lose out on writing time at some point this month. I don't know what sort of state I'm going to be in as the month proceeds. There is shopping and decorating and food preparation to see to, and there are many days without a caregiver, because they get holidays off (and we do not, but 'tis the nature of the affair). I have several days when various people have appointments, so I'm hoping I can cram shopping and such into that time and then save the rest of the days for writing. I would very much like to set myself the goal of finishing Book 2 by the end of the month, but I am afraid. Of setting goals, I mean. Because when I hold myself to a deadline, I can get exceptionally guilt-ridden if something along the way happens to derail me. So I guess this is a secret deadline. I won't tell me, and you won't tell me, and I'll try anyway.

I do try not to walk myself through the ultimate extrapolation of how my time has gone these past 2 years. Even if I am completely single-minded about my writing, it will still take all of next year before the next 2 books are done... and I'm not sure I can trust myself to finish everything that quickly. I had initially projected I would be done by January 2011 with everything; that will certainly not happen. Can I be done by January 2012? That might be a secret deadline that is just too ambitious to attempt. My ideal time flow means getting 1 chapter a week finished, which means each book takes 25ish weeks, which is... half a year. That's of course without any distractions. Because I have none in my life! I DO NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF DISTRACTION. That or sarcasm.

Anyway. I need to get back to my four pages for the day. I've taken enough of a 'break'.

Current Tea: First Abundant Berry, then Goji Berry Green Tea
Current Project: Planned Story, Book 2 Chapter 21

This Rant Touched Me Inappropriately!

2010-11-23T12:44:00.001-05:00

Why so many rants lately?

I've seen several articles pop up via facebook about some of the newer TSA scanning technology, and this 'groping' that persists to be mentioned. People are getting indignant and outraged and planning their civil disobedience marches and boycotting flying and all the rest. This astounds me. Have we really become that self-absorbed as to have missed the point of it all?

The source of the angst seems to be coming from two new practices in TSA procedures. The first is the newest full-body scanner technology that has the ability to show the scannee in a way that could be embarrassing. Essentially, you look like an unclothed human blob. Which could be violating and sexual harassment. Right? The second seems to be the 'groping' procedures when people are personally searched, which people liken to sexual harassment. People are quoting articles of the Constitution to argue against these. Let's... take a step back, shall we?

What happened to spawn all this? Oh that's right. Men carrying bombs blowing up planes. Weren't you all freaked-out upset about that a few years ago? And I promise you, if a plane explodes again, you will freak out again. You want safety and freedom from fear, but you don't want your personal bubble encroached upon. Guess what-- neither is guaranteed in life. GET OVER IT.

But let me reiterate. Men carrying bombs. One human being has the capacity to destroy many human beings. We have enormous capability for atrocity. What prevents us from exercising it? How do we prevent others from exercising it? For the good of the whole, a few must suffer the indignity of their gentlemen or lady parts being, oh God it's just too awful, touched while officers look for telltale signs of atrocity-commiting weapons.

Now, I don't know about you. But *I* saw The Sting. Remember what Robert Redford's character says in the beginning? About where to hide money? 'Stick it down your pants. Ain't a tough guy in the world that'll frisk ya there.'

Hmmmmm. People wouldn't possibly try to hide a bomb in one of these 'sensitive' areas! Oh no no no they would never do that!!

People, please.

The more we raise a stink about it too, the more terrorist-type folk are going to zone in on those areas as ways to break the system. In the name of personal freedom, we are putting people in danger because of the sanctity of our penises and boobs. If we, by the sheer force of our whining stop these procedures and scanners, guess where people of ill intent are going to be hiding their goods? Go on, guess.

There is a reason airport security has evolved in the direction it has. TSA is conducting war on terrorism, and we as normal non-combat citizens don't understand that in a warzone, things like not touching someone in a search to find explosives because they feel 'harassed' will contribute only to a losing strategy. The enemy must be matched and overcome, and we are only crippling ourselves with this stupid 'don't touch my junk or even look at it in a scanner' mentality.

Here's another question: when you go to a hospital when you are sick, do you refuse treatment if it involves any sort of groping? I would like to know which hospital you are going to then! In the name of preserving your health, you will need to give up a lot of personal freedom. I don't hear you whimpering about that! Oh, right-- because this is you we're talking about. Not everyone else on a plane or in an airport whose safety is the ultimate goal, who cares about them. What's important is that *I'm* not touched!

Have we really lost sight of the reason why this is all happening? Has our blind suspicion of 'The Government' twisted us so much we can't see the fact that all of this is in place because people are trying their best to figure out how to protect us? Your penis is not more important than hundreds and thousands of people. Sorry. I'ma tell it like it is.

I haven't even touched (not an altogether intended pun) upon the fact that, for all this new-fangled scanning technology and the groping techniques, I have yet to hear of a blatant case of abuse by a TSA officer. See, when these guys start jerking off to the scanner images in plain view, or attempting rape of those being groped, then we have just cause to worry. When people were civilly disobedient in the 60s in the name of civil rights, they did not do so because they were extrapolating the distant possibility that some white man might not let a black man sit in a restaurant. Civil disobedience happened because the abuse was well in place and considered the norm. This sexual abuse stuff is nothing of the sort, it is people whining about their personal bubbles.

And. As if all this weren't enough! I challenge anyone upset and indignant about this to take a life drawing class. I speak from art school experience-- the act of drawing a nude figure is about as unsexual as you can imagine. First off, you're not thinking about sexual stuffs, you're thinking about the mechanics of the drawing. Second, and get ready for a shocker, most people just don't turn you on. Most of us don't look like [insert top model/actress/dreamy male lead here]. Crazy, but true.

So! Imagine you are a TSA officer on scanner duty. Your job is to stare at that little screen as people come through the scanner, the nekkid blobs that they are. Are you thinking about how hot every chick is and how you'd like to bang them? Or are you thinking something more along the lines of 'there's a blue blob in their pocket looks like a nail clipper oh something on their foot must be some kind of shoe fob and ah they forgot to take their earrings out that's going to set the machine off and I see no bombs on this person NEXT'. Accusing scanner-watchers of sexual harassment is like condemning radiologists looking for breast cancer.

Okay, next exercise! Imagine you are the TSA officer on 'grope' duty. You're looking for suspicious lumps and packages and such among the regular lumps and packages, if you will. You've got to carefully inform the person what you're doing, and conduct yourself in a respectable manner while all the time remembering there are dozens of people watching you. Who is realistically going to be able to focus on a good sexual-harassing grope when there's everything else going on? Or the fact that you are hired to protect people, but that is entirely beside the point, right? CLEARLY these people think of nothing but how to harass people day and night.

So, how do we deal with this? By boycotting flying? By all means, go for it. The less of you selfish loonies on my plane, the better. By causing a scene, holding up the line and getting every supervisor in the place involved? Nice one, you realize you're not only taking others' time but providing a great sort of distraction for any who might want to sneak in with dangerous items. By posting to facebook about the indignancies you suffered? That will garner a few comments and no further action, hooray! By complaining about how inconvenienced you were to everyone you meet? I call emotional harassment on that. I have the right to not be emotionally groped by your selfish skewed perspective!

A final word. When we buy plane tickets and don't read the fine print, we have no excuse to open our mouth against anything TSA subjects us to. We are purchasing a privilege to fly, not a right to do it how we want. Do as you like with this information, but don't come sniveling to me about how your 'rights' were violated when we've got crazies out there looking to kill planes and buildings full of people in this country. I promise you, the right to keep yourself untouched is slightly less important than endeavoring to keep as many people alive and unharmed as possible.

Cyborg Metaphor

2010-11-17T13:10:00.000-05:00

I promised myself this morning that when I got here to the library I would focus with relentless and single-minded purpose upon writing my book, and not get sidetracked by things like updating blogs. I have a meeting in the middle of the day you see, and so it was a fair amount of effort to get me to agree to head to the library before AND after the meeting to attempt to write. It's that whole perverse fascination I have with futility. Why bother going to the library in two small chunks of time? Nothing will get done unless I have a very LARGE chunk of time.

Which of course isn't true, but sometimes I have to choke on that a bit before I acquiesce to a broken up work schedule. Anyway, fighting through several home distractions I hauled myself to the library, where I have an hour and a half before the meeting. I purposefully left my sketchbook at home, as well as the book I'm reading so as to keep myself focused. (All evidence to the contrary I really do love writing, I just am so easily distracted). And guess what else got left at home, not at all purposefully? The flash drive containing all my writing.

...

I have some of my writing. I back up routinely of course, so Ol' Man Compy has a copy in him, but it's an older-type copy. I'm missing especially the most recent chapter and a half I've been working on these past two weeks, where I wanted to pick up and continue today. So I have a few options, I guess. Rely on my memory and pick up where I left off yesterday to the best of my ability, or perhaps focus on another segment of the writing. Or brainstorm, at least I have my notes and colored pens.

But anyone that knows me decently well knows of my Emotional Inertia, and how when I have decided to focus on something or some emotion, it's extremely hard for me to switch to other focuses with much speed. If I have my heart set on doing something, I get particularly upset when I can't do it. My emotions and interests often seem to flit about like feathers tossed in wind, near-weightless and capricious in their paths... but when they land, they do so like lead weights. Heavy, nearly impossible to dislodge, and poisonous with prolonged exposure.

So my heart and emotions were set on this most recent scene in Chapter 20. I was ready and primed to write it. Now I am missing all of Chapter 20, and I am annoyed, and can't seem to shake my focus on it. And yet, I don't have all the tools I need to perhaps do the job. Futility mutters about how there's little point in trying to remember what's not here and write it anyway; Reason points out that I have a good memory and it's really not all that hard to stitch in part of a scene that is written separate from the whole. Reason also reminds me how I have lots of other things I could be focusing on in my writing, and that despite missing the precious flash drive with the most recent work I have quite a bit of my writing. More than enough to get something done.

Faithful Readers recall my love of Battle Angel Alita (Random Aside: I had recalled hearing about how James Cameron had the rights to a live-action movie, but it seems according to the wikipedia article that perhaps we are creeping closer to the realization of that. ...I'm honestly not sure how I feel about that! I suppose if anyone is capable of handling the story decently it would be him, and based on his decisions he seems to have taken the project on not for the money it will make but rather because he is a fan of the work himself. It becomes a question of how much 'adaption' takes place at this point.). Particularly in the fifth manga volume, during combat engagement Alita loses multiple cyborg limbs over the course of a single fight. The writing drew a fascinating observation from this, and subsequent fights throughout the story: practitioners of cyborg combat learn to fight beyond the loss of a limb or more. Cyborgs have a unique advantage over flesh and blood: that they can shut down the pain nerve impulses, and block out what would send a body into shock otherwise. Losing an arm doesn't mean the end of the fight, it just means the nature of fighting has changed, and this curious cyborg combat metaphor has stuck with me through the years. Probably because I am so bad at implementing its ultimate lesson: we lose things we are counting on in the struggle of life. Adapt, and keep fighting.

This of course is completely at odds with my Emotional Inertia. I am not a cyborg, I am a regular, fragile, soft and bloody human being. I get stuck on things. When my emotional 'limbs' are ripped from me, I seethe and rant, or else I sink into depression, or else I smolder in disgruntlement. I don't nod, accept the damage, and keep fighting. I sort of stew about it for awhile and hope the limb gets reattached before attempting further combat. I don't do well in this carefully constructed metaphor. I would lose a fight with a cyborg fairly quickly.

So this situation is yet another 'opportunity' to practice the art of cyborg combat. I've lost a limb I was depending on, my flash drive. What do I do? Plop down in the middle of the battlefield and wait for the medic? Wander away to find a mechanic that will reattach it, but will put me out of action for a day? Whine about it? Or keep fighting, because I have other limbs still? It is an inconvenience and a disadvantage, but is the fight really over? The nature of a fight is struggle; the opponent is not going to be nice and keep from cutting limbs of if I ask sweetly. The hardest thing of all is to take this unexpected state of affairs, adapt, and keep trying. At least, to me and my Emotional Inertia, it is the hardest.

Of course, I did sort of chip away at the lead weights by blogging a bit about it. I suppose in the metaphor we have constructed here, that would be like a brief retreat to seek more advantageous terrain. I do intend to try and write anyway. I just need to get past the fact that things aren't going exactly how I planned and that's a fairly common occurrence when cyborg fighting happens.

Current Tea: Strawberry Green
Current Project: Fighting on with fewer limbs

I Vote Sandwich

2010-11-02T17:48:00.000-04:00

I'm going to try and key this rant about voting into a more reasonable, intelligent discourse. Like political candidates though, it is altogether very likely I will not be able to deliver on my promise. Either way though, between discourse and rant, we ought to have a little fun, eh?

So Election Times are Hard Times for us in this household. Mostly because of the incessant phone calls and ringing doorbells. I have two parents that are sick and inflicted with great levels of pain every moment of the day, usually attempting to try and seize a few precious minutes of sleep. I recognize and respect the need for political campaigners to be out there making themselves known. But why is it I cannot get them to leave my tormented parents to get a little extra sleep? Come, let me beat on you with a baseball bat every five seconds for weeks on end, and *you* see how you feel when, after finally falling asleep, some automated computerized phone call jars you awake with its prattling on about whoever is running for what office. And my dad wonders why he finds the phone off the hook so often these days. 'What if someone tries to call us?' he asks, his eyelids drooping in fatigue while he absently tries to massage his ever-present back pain away. And I nod emphatically thinking, 'Exactly'.

Automated phone calls aside, let us consider the television commercials.

The thing that strikes me overwhelmingly about political ads is that they are, well, empty. They are about presenting either a glowing picture of the candidate spending time with his family and solving the state's problems, or else showing how the opposition is sneaky and deceptive and will take your money and job and spend it all on fancy cigars and raises for themselves. The time spent in the ads speaking of what the political candidate actually intends to do is pitifully small, if it is there at all. And this year has been a particularly mud-slinging one it seems. Based on the commercials I've seen, I have determined that everyone on the ballot is a no-good sleazeball and I should therefore vote for... well now, there's no one left! Hm!

Another thing that has really bothered me is the use of buzzwords/phrases. 'Wall Market Schemes' is the big one for this election, it seems. *Raises hand* ...Yes? Question? "Uhm yes. What exactly is a 'Wall Street Scheme'?" Ah, well, you see... well... hm. I know it has to do with your money. And... something bad?

Obviously, the economy of this country has but recently been squeezed through quite a change in face and structure. We had what has been termed a 'collapse' of the housing market, which has backlashed to most areas of the 'economy' (I use a lot of quotes because honestly half of what has made the economy 'collapse' has been our panicked reaction to it. The face of the economy in our country has changed, but it's even stranger to realize that the concept of 'economy' is a very abstract one built far more on future projections and promises than a physical wad of cash in someone's hand. Money in this country exists in the nonexistent form, rows of numbers in computers and the estimated value of property or stock, and is particularly vulnerable to the meteorology of the public's mob mentality at any given point. So forgive me if I perhaps am skeptical of what we term the 'economy' and how much faith or attention is attributed to it. Let's get back to wads of cash here, and stop playing with imaginary numbers. Hey look! Nested rants!). The terms 'Wall Mart Fat Cats' and 'Wall Mart Schemes' confuse me though. We are pointing our fingers of blame at this mysterious entity we call 'Wall Street', which in my mind is every bit as imaginary as our Economy. What do we really mean What does Wall Street stand for? The Stock Market itself? Stock investors? Financial analysts? Private investors? Money managers? Last I checked, Wall Street was a fairly small surface area, if we compare it to the rest of the country. And the idea of taking someone's 401k money and applying to a risky housing venture has happened cross-country and internationally. When politicians take taxpayer money and invest it, they do it in many different ways, not just in Wall Street. Really, we have merely constructed a convenient villain to point our fingers at. "Wall Street Bad!! Voter SMASH!"

Which brings me to my next point in this lovely 'discourse' we are having (see? I can quotationalize myself too!). When I was in high school in 2000 (oh so long ago!) I remember the 'Get the Vote out' campaign. I remember the statistics, something ridiculous like only 20% of Americans voted or what. You might even consider October to be 'Voting Awareness Month'-- that is, if it weren't Breast Cancer Awareness month! But see, I have the same response to all that as I did with breast cancer. Consider me aware of the need to vote. Your efforts are no longer necessary. And you know what? Urging people to vote is addressing a nonexistent problem. We are exhorted to vote as if that will avert some anarchic crisis. "Your voice matters!" one of the voting slogans goes. Does it? Well... only a tiny bit. Contrary to the way the campaigns claim, the world will continue to spin even if you don't vote. Our country will not perish, our government will not dissolve into street riots. People will still be elected, hold office, and continue to not deliver on their promises they make to the public. Your vote is a droplet of water in a great bucket. Yes, a lot of water droplets make a great wave. But without your droplet, the wave is nearly as big, and even if it's only a ripple, there are usually only two ripples anyway in any given election. Are you with one, or the other?

Ah yes. There are political parties besides Republican and Democrat, did you know that? I feel rather sorry for them, actually. They really do try so hard every election to garner that 1% or so of the vote.

My point is not to say 'voting doesn't matter'. No, my point is that the act of voting is misleading. Politics as a whole are misleading for that matter, but let's focus on voting for now and expand off that.

When we vote, we feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. We have made a decision, a choice. But this is not a choice like going to the deli and choosing a roast beef sandwich instead of a turkey one. When I choose a roast beef sandwich, I expect to get a roast beef sandwich. I would be quite annoyed if instead I got a turkey sandwich, and when questioning the deli worker, was told 'well, you were in the minority this time 'round, more people asked for turkey so that's what we have today.'

"Alright," I say, choking down my disgruntlement. "What is the turkey sandwich promising?"

'He promises to come on Whole Wheat Bread with Dijon Mustard and tomato basil aioli spread.'

...I guess I have to be okay with this. But when I take my plate and sit down, the person next to me suddenly leaps up. "WHAT IS THIS??" he screams. "I was promised that this turkey sandwich would deliver dijon mustard! This is not mustard at all, but mayonnaise!! And this is Asiago cheese bread! And there's spinach on here, I didn't want spinach!!"

And of course, I sit there smugly. 'Shoulda gotten the roast beef,' I murmur, a little louder each time someone else jumps up to find their sandwich not as they expected it, until the next day now the deli is only offering roast beef. Of course, they said it was coming on rye with pickles, but it's on pumpernickel with swiss cheese instead.

My deli-cious point here is that voting increases our sense of outrage when things don't go the way we voted them to. We are being told that voting is a way to get our voice heard, to profess our opinions and let the country know what we want. But what it really does is set us up for inevitable disappointment. Because if our chosen candidate loses, we feel like our voice didn't matter; and if he by chance wins, he will inevitably not be able to deliver on everything he promised, and thus we feel misled. Voting is a grand exercise in being disappointed, because we aren't prepared for it with the mindset of how little of it we *actually* control. Frustratingly, politicians cannot be sued for not doing what they promise to do; they can say anything they want to get into office and do whatever they want (within lawful reason) from that point.

I am not saying politicians as a whole are a lying scheming group of crooks anxious to get their hands on taxpayer money. Most if not all of them want to represent a group of people and work to make decent policy in this country. There is a great deal that is out of their control about making policy, and the reality of why so little of their promises they make during campaigns get fulfilled is because they have to fight long and hard to effect even small change. So why can't they be more open about that? Of course, because if one politician were completely realistic about how his term in office is going to go, he would sound like this: "Well, I would like to balance the budget, and give more jobs to those here instead of sending them overseas, and legalize marijuana use... but guys, do you know how many coalitions and committees and involved parties are out there? I can barely get them all to agree on where to have lunch. I mean, if I manage to create *30* new jobs it'll be a miracle." Aaaaaaand no one would vote for him. We would vote for the other guy who promises to balance the budget first thing, bring thousands of jobs back to the state, and pass laws funding the school board properly all the while playing with his children.

We have over these past hundred or so years firmly entrenched this campaign style of bright and beautiful promises. It's like any other sort of advertisement. No one would want to buy a fast food hamburger if they televised pictures of what they looked like-- squashed, flat dull-colored squares of meat with spattered condiments and wilted lettuce. No, what we see on television are the thick and juicy mounds of meat dressed in misted tomato and lettuce, crowned with the freshest and fluffiest bun. And yet, we are okay with that minor disappointment; we in fact often overlook it when getting a fast food hamburger. It tastes alright. It's not good *for* us, and it doesn't quite deliver on all its amazing promises. And advertising isn't a single isolated event; the force it exerts on us and our psyche comes from thousands and thousands of commercials and ads piled on top of themselves within our memories. And yet, would we rather fall in love with a pretty promise and then wrestle with the disappointment of finding it was untrue than to have the discouraging truth in the first place?

Then too, we come back to that two-political-party thing. It is essentially a proposal that every problem only has two possible solutions. But most intelligent folk know that's not true. Yet, when presented with a ballot where there are more or less only two options to choose from, what are we to do when we like neither option? When perhaps we have an option we've thought of? Voting does not address this issue. 'Go and campaign yourself', someone might say. Ah yes, but see, if you want to win voter support, you need to end up on either the Republican or the Democratic side, which means you need to align yourself with their general offered solution. You either get roast beef or turkey. 'But hey, I thought of this brilliant sandwich, it involves salami,' you might say. You take it to the deli suppliers. 'That's great,' they say. 'But if you want our support, backing, and money, you gotta change your stance to roast beef.' 'Or turkey. I mean, there *is* a salami guy, but... no one ever orders the salami.'

Even stranger. When I carefully read through the voter's guide this year what I found was striking-- all the campaigner's promises were the same. Balance the budget. Bring jobs. Fund the schools. Stop Wall Street schemes (er, riiiight). End corruption in the office. The only differences are about how they intend to do it... and oddly, even now the solutions are the same. Cut taxes, create jobs. The only differences are the exceedingly minor ones of who gets the cuts and where the jobs are going to come from. Which means that voting is going to effectively be split by who wants money back on their taxes, and beyond that it's about party alignment and who you happen to be biased towards or against.

So let me reiterate: I am going to go to the polls to vote for one of the two guys who have promised the same thing but probably won't fully deliver on it, and will have to more or less just deal with the result of who ends up there and what he does. So... could I not then achieve the same result by *not* voting?

If you want me to vote, I suggest you provide me with a better incentive to do so. If my vote is needed to keep some dictator from coming to power and imprisoning the entire country in a spaceship, let me know; if some lunatic is intent on raising taxes on everyone by 300%, I will ride out with my one little vote to stop him. But honestly. If some charismatic lunatic manages to charm the country and get them to vote him into office, my singular vote will not stop the mob mentality tide. The choices I am presented with, roast beef and turkey, are neither to my liking, and yet I will end up eating one or the other regardless of my attempted choice at the deli counter.

At least this deli is still one of the best in town. I hear it's a lot worse other places.

A final note: do not take my choosing not to vote as a spitting upon the freedom to do so. Choosing not to exercise a freedom is not an abdication of it, any more than choosing not to eat lunch is an abdication of my freedom to eat. A freedom is not a forced action, for then it would cease to be a freedom. I choose not to vote right now because both sandwich choices get me to the same result (a full stomach) with no avoidable impact. The pressure to vote seems built on fear, this fear that all Americans will stop voting. But let me tell you: there are, if you haven't checked lately, an awful lot of Americans out there. And so what if a lot of us don't vote? All the system is concerned with is counting the votes that are made, and making a decision between one thing or the other from there. The increase in volume of voters doesn't change all that much. If you have 10 people vote between roast beef and turkey, and then have 200 people vote between them, here's the thing: one will still win and the other will still lose. Perhaps the winner and loser will differ depending on how many and who vote. But more voters does not ensure any one side's victory.

Into The Fray

2010-11-01T13:49:00.000-04:00

It's November 1st, which means it's the start of NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. And... just like last year, I will not be participating!

Last year I had a friend who did it though, and because she made the monthly quota of 50,000 words I believe she got some manner of free or reduced price self-publication of the book. I was thinking I might go in on that this year, but upon perusal of the site it seems that particular 'prize' is gone this year, which means it's back to the regular old grind of my four book project.

I came to the library for the first time in over a month I think to try and get some work of some sort done (and as we can see by the post, that's working out SO WELL /sarcasm). Even though I haven't been physically here to work on writing though I have been slowly poking at the story and specifically Main Character #2 in attempt to overcome some of the more recent trouble. Yes, there is always trouble, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

The solution that seems to be taking shape involves going back into Book 1 and adding scenes. That's it, flat out written addition. The problem this proposes though is that it is essentially classified as a major editing endeavor, which is something that I was reserving for when the whole thing is done. Yes, I tend to impose arbitrary boundaries and rules upon myself and my projects, and perhaps this is one of them. But the proposal of going back into Book 1 and wrecking major change upon it is a dangerous one. Book one clocked in at over 200,000 words to give you some idea of its length, which according to NaNoWriMo is like, 4 novels. That is a lot of stuff to hack through and edit.

Why though is it an all-or-nothing thing? Can't the scenes be written and added, and then the rest of Book 1 be left alone until the Mass Editing at the End of All Things? Perhaps because I know better than anyone how much has changed since page 1 and now, and how to stitch something directly in without preparing the fabric for the addition could be detrimental for all pieces involved. On the other hand, to get tangled up in the editing could stop me entirely, cause me to throw up my hands in despair and never return. Not like I haven't faced that real possibility many times before! I mean seriously, why did I come back here to the library in the first place? Mostly because I know I am riding out to face the glum fear of futility through all this, and despite all the thoughts that seem to rise acid-like in my stomach to deter me (Someone else has already come up with this idea. You are too long-winded. You're not as good a writer as you think. You'll never find someone wanting to publish it. They'll want to change it. Your idea won't work. People won't relate to it. You haven't read enough to know whether you have a good idea or not. You don't know enough people. You don't do any of the right things to get your name out there or network among others. You don't work fast enough. You play too many games. You're taking too long. You're not interested in it. It's too immature. It doesn't work. WHAT IS THE POINT.), I must finish it for no other reason than to prove to myself the dark shadow of futility shall not best me.

But the good thing that *could* come of going back and editing now is to bring that first book up to stylistic and characteristic speed with where I am right now. I am 350,000 words a different and changed writer from when I started. Over 700 pages of work and of course things are going to change. Writing a book, it seems to me, is about learning how to shepherd that change skillfully. Stifling it is bad, and letting it run fenceless is bad too.

Or I could get stuck in a neverending cycle of hopeless re-writing. It's like saying the same sentence over and over again, making it more elegant and dramatic with every reading but-- it's the same content. No true growth of thought can come unless there is exploration of new and different content, instead of just a recircling of the same stuff over and again. New stuff is scary and different and unknown, yes. But without it we are stuck saying the same thing mindlessly.

The other option is to ignore the scenes I know I need to add, guesstimate the impact and change they will bring, and then continue with where I am, 2/3 of the way through Book 2. The problem with this should be obvious: how can we be sure of the change? On the other hand, should I not be a writer who can Make It Work? We have too many hands here at this point. Too many, I say.

I'm stuck, and stuck good-- and that's a terrible situation to be in when Futility lies in wait whispering discouraging words. If only I could get myself to just jump in and start writing something. If only I could do that in so many different areas of my life. What's stopping me, really? Just this strange fear that it will be worse at the end of things, and not better. Where did that come from?

Current Tea: Peaches and Cream. I found a thermos I bought in Japan and brought my tea in it today. Normally I bring this carafe my brother bought for my dad while in Korea, which is nice enough and reminds me of him, but can't keep beverages cold for the non-existent life of it. This thermos though, keeps tea so warm I have already burned my mouth on it-- and that's 3 hours after I filled it.
Current Project: Jumping into Writing

Garden Variety Rant

2010-10-27T13:20:00.000-04:00

I wrote this rant on Monday, and sort of ran out of steam three quarters of the way through it. I intended to write something different today and just quote a highlight or two, but upon review I was having too much trouble picking one thing to bring out. So I finished the rant... just in time to head back outside for more gardening.

I finally forced myself to do a bag's worth of yard work, and am trying to get myself to commit to a week-long small-dose schedule in terms of winterizing the garden. But before I went out and started cutting down the hydrangeas and clearing out the melon vines, I did some research.

First, let me say, figuring out what's going wrong in the garden is hard, and the internet for some reason fails me repeatedly in these situations. I don't know what it is about gardening, but people cannot seem to speak plainly about how to garden. Site after site I visit waxes eloquent about joys of plants and growing them, explains how to plant them, and talks about watering habits. 'Plant in well-drained soil'. How the hell do I know if I have well-drained soil or not. How do I make my soil well-drained?? Advice like this is like saying 'Keep your car full of gas' but not elaborating on any method with which to find a gas station, pump the gas, and read the gas meter to know whether the tank is getting close to empty. It's obvious information, right? Well, to someone who has never driven a car before, no. Seriously, if we would all stop a second and figure out what people actually need to know about gardening, perhaps we might have a lot more success, whaddyathink?

So I don't know if I have well-drained soil. Also, I am pretty sure just about every plant has this requirement? Just as every car needs a tank of gas to run. So why isn't more time spent on this important aspect? And while we are at it, anyone care to provide some general fertilizing and soil preparation points? Information is always given in very plant-specific pellets of information, which is nice I suppose but it really does quite literally miss the forest for the trees. People who don't know about gardening need overarching principles to guide them, common themes and practices to fall back on. I know my hydrangeas need partial sun and well-drained soil, and I happened to get lucky and find the fall preparation information on one site which tells me to cut the plant back to the ground. But what do I do about my Coppertina? I bet he needs well-drained soil, but who knows if that's what I *really* have or not.

And here we are with diseases. This was the main reason I was researching, to try and figure out why my hydrangeas are covered in spots and not growing, why the blueberry foliage seems a bit spot-ridden too, why the watermelon vines only produced 4 melons, and why the tomatoes were a disease-ridden disaster this year. And yet, I come away from all this with few answers. Some problems with the information search process? Most sites seem content to describe the problem with words-- words that are practically identical from disease to disease. Do you know how many hydrangea diseases there are with the symptom 'spotted leaves'?? Can we maybe get a picture or two up, would that be too much to ask?

And then, the treatment! When humans get a disease, we take medicine, right? Why is it when I look up the 'treatment' for a plant disease most of the time all the advice that is given is 'Select disease resistant varieties; pre-treat with fungicide'. That's like saying 'if you don't want to get a cold, be a person with a strong immune system and eat oranges regularly.' What if you get the cold??

So let's focus on the tomatoes, because the conglomeration of diseases they contracted this year is so utterly mindblowing. They had Sour Rot, Cottony Leak, Cloudy Spots, Early Blight, Alternaria Canker, possibly Septoria Spot, and Radial Cracking. Let's analyze these then and see if our collective brainpower can outsmart the unhelpful internet. Hm, most of these seem to be soil-bourne fungus. My guess is my soil is infected with lots of fungi! Now, why isn't that ever mentioned as a possibility or something to be wary of when gardening? And how do I *fix* it??

Further research via some specific forum-posted questions seems to generally indicate that fungi of various sorts aren't usually detrimental to plants, they just herald the process of composting (the breaking down of organic matter) in the soil. An application of nitrogen helps, as does not using wood-based mulch. And of course, 'prevention is so much easier than removal'.

Sigh. Why do sites always say that?? People with the problems are not look for a 'You should have just prevented it in the first place', they are looking for a 'do this to fix it'. Especially since if someone didn't know about the possibility of the problem beforehand. Imagine a doctor saying 'You have a cold? Well really you should have just prevented it in the first place!' 'But doc, I didn't know I could catch a cold!' 'That's not *my* fault, you should have known!' ...Because really, we all ought to be completely cognizant of all the possible pitfalls and dangers of every endeavor before we start. Especially things like we should know each and every possible disease the human body can contract before beginning the process of living. Oh, is my sarcasm showing? I'm sorry, I'm just terribly allergic to unhelpful information and advice!

...

My mind is still reeling from this realization that the diseases that have infected my plants are actually there in the soil, and as long as they stay in the soil they are very good for the plants. Fungi in soil is good. And yet, when they jump from soil to plant leaf and fruit, they are bad. I reiterate: WHY DOES NO ONE TELL BEGINNING GARDENERS THIS. I have been told a few times to water plants at their base and not the crown, but no one ever stopped and said 'The reason we do this is to prevent fungus to travel via the water environment to other parts of the plant or splash up from the ground via the water'. If the people who *are* good gardeners cannot express such things to others wanting to learn, no wonder people complain they can't garden well! BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT BEING GIVEN GOOD INSTRUCTION. There is way more to gardening than just take plant, place in ground, water. And even at the nurseries, no one in my experience has ever been able to give me a primer that has staved off problems. Inevitably, an issue will occur, and I will earnestly research until I find the gaping hole in my knowledge concerning the issue, and just wonder why no one I spoke with thought to say anything.

Alright, I'm not going to sit here and blame-shift further. Obviously, I should not be holding people solely accountable for things *I* did not know. But you know, I've had an incredibly easier time learning how to do things like say... cook food. Clean house. Repair plumbing. Raise a dog. Paint a picture. Why does it seem like gardening is so different?

Current Tea: Pomegranate Hibiscus
Current Project: Garden Winterizing, Paint touch-up in the hall, getting a goodwill donation ready

The Discovery of Other People in the World

2010-10-25T14:40:00.000-04:00

Selfish person, checking in for the day.

I think something very interesting about a selfish sort of mindset is that it is characterized by a strange belief that I am unique not just in positive circumstances but in negative ones as well. 'I am suffering in a way no one else has ever done,' so the thought goes, or 'No one understands the sort of suffering I am going through.' And it's interesting that one of the first things my pastor told me in response to a description of various trials I endure is 'That sounds quite normal to me'. It's also interesting how much comfort I took from it, considering such a statement strikes directly at the such self-centeredness.

Yes, I've got a mother that is handicapped and bedridden and requires a great deal of care. She gets me up in the middle of the night, needs feeding, and sometimes yells and screams. I need to see to her every need. It's exhausting. But is this not very similar to having a baby? I'll be honest, I never wanted kids before this whole thing happened, it's almost indignantly insulting that somehow I've been tricked into 'having' one anyway. Ah, but here we are again focusing on me and my personal desires.

I could go on and on about how so very selfish I am. You would cringe at the depths of it, I assure you. But here's the strange thing: take my pastor's words again, and apply them. 'That sounds quite normal to me.' In other words, 'You are not unique in your selfishness. Everyone is. It's a human condition.'

In considering this mind-blowing reality that I am not the only person on earth that has struggled with the ugly aspect of selfishness, I have considered how I really don't think everyone is as selfish as I am. I think there are many people who are more selfless, that have practiced more at putting off the self, who have experience and perhaps even some natural disposition to be less selfish. But on the flip side, there are people who are more selfish than I. The one common thread between me and all human beings though is a degree of selfishness, a spectrum we are all placed upon. If there is one thing we can all relate to, it is the act of Wanting. The mindset of 'It's About Me'. That it is not easy to focus on others to the point of serving them self-sacrificially.

Again, think of it as a spectrum. This isn't an all-or-nothing thing. You aren't either selfish or not. You ARE selfish. How much depends on your life experiences, your beliefs, and your practices. But even how much isn't what I intend to focus on or debate. There is no point in identifying thresholds of selfishness, rating people, and deciding how much or little selfishness is 'good enough'. Any amount of selfishness is not good, but we cannot get rid of it on our own.

I think what fascinates me about considering others in this spectrum of selfishness is that it is a key step to reminding a selfish person (i.e. Me) that there are, you know, other people in the world. This seems so obvious, yes? And yet... well, the mindset of 'It's All About Me' is insidiously deceptive. Sure I see all you people out there. But do you matter to me? Even more, does my selfishness really bar me from interacting with the rest of you? Do I need to lower my selfishness rating to a certain point before I am permitted to attempt to interact in selfless ways with others? How does such a rating get lowered anyway? When selfless acts are perpetrated for the ultimate goal of attempting to improve some sort of poor selfish score on myself, does that not seem a bit twisted? I'm not thinking about others as people with just as many legitimate needs as selfish wants. I'm thinking about them as the unpleasant objects of required goals to minimize my own poor character stats. I am even selfish about my selflessness.

'People struggle with the same things you struggle with.'

Why is this comforting? I think perhaps because it exhorts mercy as a response. Because I cannot consider myself unique in my struggles and suffering, I can't turn my nose up at people saying 'oh you wouldn't understand', nor can I say of them 'I can't relate to what you're going through, therefore there's no point ((points for identifying the more deeply ingrained problem of Futility Struggle right here!)) in trying to do anything for you'. I can relate a lot more to what others are going through than I give myself credit. And I'm guilty too of, when someone attempts to provide help and guidance, skillfully putting them off with excuses that amount essentially to 'Oh, but I'm different, your advice won't work in my circumstances'. I am too interested in preserving the illusion of my uniqueness than absorbing something that could be genuinely helpful.

'You are way more like every other human being on this earth than you think.' I am not a special snowflake. I don't deserve things more than others because I happen to suffer more, or act better, or what. I don't deserve extra attention. It's not my party. And I need to stop acting like if I'm not the center of attention, I can't enjoy myself at all. Just getting invited to a party is a joyful thing, is it not?

This idea of 'if it's not about me I'm not going to have fun or commit' has got to stop. Of course, that is a change that I suspect will take a lifetime, and is not something I could effect on my own. Perfect Christ comes again with history's greatest sacrifice of utter and complete selflessness to give selfishness-covering grace and transforming change.

Current Tea: Shanghai Lychee Jasmine
Current Project: If I were to just *do* the gardening I would stop avoiding it...

Over and Under

2010-10-21T13:23:00.000-04:00

The internet is a strange place, and way more accessible than I think we realize at any given time. There are some things that simply can't be said on the internet no matter how one might want to, and though it is frustrating to realize this at least one can count oneself among the intelligent team of folks who show restraint and maturity in their posting. I think the frustrating thing is that for us, we desire greatly to share the deep and meaningful, the struggle and the joy, and yet we are bound forever in a medium of shallowness in order to protect our vulnerability.

That's what the blog is for, up to a point, I suppose. I can get a little deeper here.

I've been in a cycle of depression this week. I'm that sort of high-functioning alcoholic, where I don't give a lot of outward sign of any issue or problem, go about my business, only instead of drinking I do a ridiculous amount of gaming. No tears, no sitting in dark corners, not even really avoiding people. But I lock myself into games for days at a time, clinging to the false sense of accomplishment and then at the end of the day reminding myself remorsefully that I have put hours of my life into bits of abstract cybernetic data that, should the delicate technological balance we currently enjoy in this first world country be upset, would all be in an instant lost.

Breaking such a cycle involves taking a step away from gaming and doing something else. It's hard for me to do something I know I ought to, that's been hanging over my head for awhile, but I simply don't want to do. Garden preparations for the winter, let's say. I was really on a roll in the past few weeks with the painting of that room, but I got derailed this weekend, and have been curled up leveling characters ever since.

But let's be clear here, because it may seem like I'm talking about gaming, when I'm *really* talking about depression. Gaming is merely my coping mechanism; it's the overeating or the oversleeping or the overdrinking or the overgambling or overwhatever symptom of the underlying disease. I do love playing games, not just when I'm depressed. And really, of all the things I could be doing to ride out my emotional storms, gaming is pretty harmless. But it's a self-perpetuating cycle that needs to be reined in and broken. I will game because I feel overwhelmed with the tasks I need to take care of, and the futility of it all, and then after the gaming realize I didn't take care of anything and how futile the gaming was. And back to gaming the next day! Sigh.

I haven't written in a month or so. That might be a minor cause of it. I always am more prone to depression the longer I stay away from writing, but I've been so busy with the room painting and such that there just hasn't been time. And now that there is time... well, I'm playing games again. And again, I stare at my drawings with a sense of futility. 'I have so far to go. What's the point?'

Obviously, the only thing that can be done is to do something. Seems so simple, yes? I set myself the task of washing the walls in the upstairs hallway today in effort to shake myself out of the cycle a bit. Nothing really overwhelming, for it seems I have a strangely perverse love with overwhelming tasks. After I finish I can do as I like, whether it's go back to the gaming or what, but hopefully my steps will take me instead to perhaps reading some of the books I've got around here in the queue, or else to working on designs for the art I wanted to make for the painted room, or else maybe some other cleaning endeavor. Saturday perhaps then I can touch up said walls with the proper paint, and wash the stairway. ...Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself though. To set things for me to then hang over my head can quite often make things worse. And yet, Future Me craves the planning of the times to come! Future Me needs to stop putting so many demands on Present Me and being so hard on Past Me. Really, this dictatorship by Future Me needs to be overthrown. Future Me seems to have way to much despotic power over the rest of the Me's.

Current Tea: Chocolate Mint
Current Project: Washing Walls

Telling The Truth

2010-10-19T12:12:00.000-04:00

I didn't mean to fall off in the posting. I don't mean a lot of things in life. But I always mean what I say, at least at that particular moment I'm saying it.

I've been thinking about words again, and this peculiar love language they seem to be for me. Recently I've been meeting with my church's pastor to discuss some of the more emotionally stressful events of home life, and he has been quite encouraging. In particular, I've appreciated how he has been providing me with a lot of material to mentally absorb and ponder, because hey, we all know that ideas to ruminate on are practically my lifeblood. He was the one who recommended me take that Meyers-Briggs personality test, and more recently we discussed Gifts of Grace.

The topic of Spiritual Gifts is somewhat loaded across denominations. People often (with not altogether unwarranted discomfort) think of people going into trances, speaking in tongues, having seizures, you know. *I* think of that, it makes me uncomfortable! The passage these sorts of things are mentioned is in 1 Corinthians, chapters 12-14. I'll be honest, I haven't done a great deal of research into this passage. What I know about it is that some denominations interpret these gifts as manifesting today, and others interpret them as gifts that manifested in the time of the growing Christian Church right after the resurrection of Christ, but are not manifested today. I do not ascribe to a belief that they never existed, that this sort of thing is silly mysticism, or what. My personal belief at this moment on the topic, without heavy research to back it up, is the latter. More to investigate and ruminate on. I am not ashamed to admit I wrestle with my faith and its innerworkings, but do I not do so with all my thoughts concerning life? (hint: the answer is yes.)

But we were not talking about Spiritual Gifts in the speaking-in-tongues, performing-miracles, healing-the-sick sense. We were talking about Gifts of Grace.

Gifts of Grace are written about in Romans 12:3-8. In particular, starting in verse 6: "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness."

So, to relist: prophecy, service, teaching, exhortation, giving, leading, and mercy. Gifts of grace! These are as much instinctual ways of thinking one can have as the Meyers-Briggs personality test. My pastor termed them specifically as 'lenses of motivation'. We all of course think and react to the world differently, but such a gift of grace underlies our actions and guides our responses to things. Think of it this way, the test he gave me: a man spills coffee on himself. Would your response be:

1. "That's what happens when you're not careful!"
2. "Don't feel badly. It could have happened to anyone."
3. "Oh, let me clean it up for you."
4. "The reason that it fell is that it was too heavy on one side."
5. "Next time, let's use mugs that won't tip over."
6. "I'll be happy to buy a new outfit and coffee cup."
7. "Jim, would you get the mop. Sue, please help pick it up; and Mary, pour another cup."

I'm not clever enough to mix up the order or anything, so they pretty much correlate to the order they're outlined above. Guess which one I would say? Go on, guess. The first one!

It sounds harsh, doesn't it? But that really is my first and initial reaction to things, whether they are happening to others or just me. But what is the motivation behind saying it? To maliciously rub failure into people or myself? Sometimes that's the unfortunate and unintended collateral damage. But no, the motivation is to expose and correct, to fix the problem. This happened because of this, you shouldn't do that. It's not quite the same as #4 above, where the motivation is to merely discover why and learn more about the situation, or #5's focus on encouragement for future coffee-related endeavors; #1 makes a call about the immediate state of affairs. It is a proclamation, an exclamation of truth. It is prophecy.

Ah, prophecy. You're thinking crazy prophet out in the desert speaking in verse and predicting the future, right? But go back to the root word, prophetia, which disassembles to "before; forth" (pro) and "to speak" (phemi). Prophecy in this sense is not of foretelling; it is of forthtelling. In other words, the gift of proclaiming truth, and exposing sin. I'm not going to be able to tell anyone, least of all myself, what the future holds (though Faithful Readers know how terribly stuck I seem to forever be *in* the future). But I apparently have a motivational gift of grace in speaking honestly of the true state of affairs. The Good Lord gave me the ability to (often) see the truth of a situation, and to articulate it to others.

Of course, like anything, such a 'gift' can be misapplied and abused. The abuse of these gifts of grace actually tend to be the way one most identifies with which one they have! Like for prophets, misuses include reacting harshly to sinners, being unforgiving, cutting off people who fail, lacking tactfulness in rebuke, and exposing without restoring. YES THIS IS ME. I don't mean to be this way. My gift is in prophecy, not mercy-- those with the gift of mercy come at things the opposite way. They feel sympathy for the misery of others, they empathize with hurting people, they desire to remove distress and share burdens. I do feel mercy to a certain degree, especially with my home situation, and I am always trying to get better at it. But my inner wirings, the way I think, has me instinctually reacting to the coffee spill not with 'aw, it could have happened to anyone'. For me to give that response actually takes a few extra thoughts of myself reminding me to try and empathize/sympathize, not to just throw out a cool statement of truth, perhaps one of condemnation.

So, how does prophecy get applied positively? It's good features include a desire for justice, a loyalty to truth instead of people (which I do understand the struggle between, having great people-pleasing tendencies), an alertness to dishonesty, a need for expression, and a willingness to suffer for what's right. Also, 1 Corinthians 14:3: "But he that prophecies speaks to men for the upbuilding, encouragement, and consolation." In other words, there is more truth in this world than just 'you screwed up when you dumped coffee on yourself.' There is good truth just like there is unpleasant truth. Prophets came with harsh words to those defiantly turning their backs on God, but they also came with joyous words for those striving to remain faithful.

And what do you suppose brings a prophet down more than anything? Fear of failure, perhaps? Nope-- fear of futility.

Imagine having something truthful to say to someone. 'You have a messy room. You need to clean it up. It's not right to live in squallor. It's unsanitary and unhealthy and unpleasant to see.' (I have no idea where I might have come up with such an example!) Now, this seems truthful and evident to me. And the person I say it to perhaps nods and agrees, and goes about their business. And they do nothing to correct the problem. I say to them again, your room is messy, you need to clean it. Nod, and then ignored. Over and again, I tell him the room is messy, and my truth is snubbed. How long shall I proclaim this to him before feeling like my efforts are futile? Why won't you listen to truth? It is truth, my brain protests, unable to fathom why one would not attempt to conform to it. Why do people ignore truth?! And that soon becomes the thought of 'what's the point? No one will listen to me'. Which to me, more than anything, is the most self-destructive force I struggle with.

'What is the point? No one will listen.' These words twist in me with wretchedness. This is what derails me in writing, what stops me from drawing, what hurts me the most about my family's suffering. I have things to say about this, and no one will listen to me.

I'm not saying being a prophetic sort means I'm always right. I make mistakes and have misconceptions, the same as the next person. But in my fascination with truth, the finding of it and the proclaiming of it, I do a lot of discerning trying to figure out what is right. To have people ignore me and my words is very much a blow to the effort I have put in attempting to find the truth. That contributes to the futility of it all.

But, in here is a strange sort of spark of realization. I do not fear failure, as I always thought I did. I fear futility. And to know the beast I fight in its full and hideous form means instead of clumsily tilting at its shadow, I can strike to the heart of the beast. I never have feared failing at my writing, or my drawing, or at any activity I set my hand to. I fear putting all the effort into it and then having my efforts come to naught. I get it, and am amazed I never got it before. And I don't fear people and their lack of approval; I fear the futility of telling them something and being ignored.

I have a huge amount more to say about how this ties into how much words mean to me, about using this knowledge positively and not negatively, and then a sort of offshoot to theorize about the act of whining a bit. But I think that's enough for one post, especially because I wrote it all and still haven't had my morning two cups of tea.

Temper Mental

2010-10-09T17:31:00.003-04:00

The moment I put on a sweater and feel warm. That instant is one of magic.

I have what you might call an obsession with layers. Particularly those of the sweater-jacket variety. It's one of the hardest things for me to resist buying, is that indoor-coat piece of clothing. Don't ask how many I have. (Hint: the answer is too many.)

But here's why I think I adore them so: I am a sensitive person (Faithful Readers mockingly feign surprise. What? You? Nawwwwww!). In the physical sense, that is, I'm really sensitive to how I physically feel, all the time. Too hot, too cold, itches and aches and hair in my face and clothes fitting the wrong way and pressure points and in general an overdeveloped sense of touch. I didn't do it on purpose. I did not intend to be this way. But here I am shivering under a comforter one second and throwing it off the next, shifting positions endlessly as I sit in a chair trying to write, constantly clipping my hair up to keep it from brushing the sides of my face, and flinging layers of clothing around. Blessed be the person who invented the sweater jacket, for they have saved me much temperature-based misery in life.

Right now, my ideal temperature seems to be several degrees higher than others. I have friends who break into a sweat when I am just getting comfortable, and others who happily trundle about in a t-shirt in the dead of winter while I freeze into a block of layered ice. But more than that, it is so easy for me to force a temperature fluctuation upon myself: fifteen minutes of cutting up fruit in the kitchen is enough to make me too hot, running for iced water and a fan and fewer layers. And if I sit in front of my computer and click my mouse occasionally while playing a game, my internal temperature plummets quickly. In fact, my office chair right now has no less than three sweater jackets draped upon it in some manner. Walk two feet away and there are two more just outside the office hanging on one of the kitchen tables. There are two that I know of in my car, and my room... well, it's infested. They're all there to help me through my constant temperature transitions, and when they're not on me they're hovering about ready for action.

There is something very very awful about being distracted by my silly overdeveloped sense of touch, and there is something very very lovely about being able to soothe my internal temperature with a sweater jacket. I think *that* is what tricks me into buying them over and over, that sweet burst of promised warmth they give the instant I wrap up in one. Pull-over anything is usually not a candidate, it requires commitment to go on and come off. Multiple layers of light shirts don't often work, and cashmere or wool sweaters are simply too much! There's a sweet spot with the cotton-type sweater jacket, something that infuses warmth but not too much, something that breathes with fabric and open zippers and easily-rolled sleeves (my sleeves are being rolled and unrolled often on a minute-by-minute basis. It's crazy.).

And every environment is different. I have a catalogue in my head of all the places I've visited: friends' houses, different states, different countries, times of the year, cars... I keep track and remember places not just by the vivid color-coding my brain does, but also by the temperature of the place and whether I struggled with it or not. I am always thinking, if I am headed to some place I've been before, what I remember from the temperature there and how I need to plan my layers.

And you know what's strange, I think it's not so much the warmth of it all as the weight of an ideal sweater jacket that comforts me. I tested this theory in the purchasing of a short-sleeved sweater jacket for Arizona, and sure enough, the simple weight of it seemed to be enough to give me the illusion of warmth I desired. I'm sure this relates to core body heat all that, and not so much about the extremities. It does explain why I often roll my sleeves on my layers...

But you know, all this is quite a lot of pointless self-rumination to appropriately background the moment I am trying to describe, when this past week I was driving home with all the windows down amidst the chill-iced fall air and watching the sun set in a cloudless sky with halos of weak color faintly encircling the world. On that twilight edge between evening and night, the weather turning with the same delicate twist as my own internal temperature, I slid my sweater jacket on. On that tempermental autumn evening, I left the windows down; I not only felt warm, I felt at home.

Current Tea: Sakuranbo

Rant Genre Awareness Month

2010-10-06T13:24:00.000-04:00

BEGIN RANT TRANSMISSION

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...

So apparently there is some 'meme' (I dislike using this word as this is what I have called my grandmother growing up, so there is a great deal of misconnection in my brain) or posting fad or whatever you want to call it going around on Facebook where women are posting something along the lines of "I like it _____", where _____ is a location. 'I like it on the kitchen table'. 'I like it under the desk'. 'I like it anywhere I can find it.' What do you suppose they are talking about?

Exactly.

Or perhaps not? Word on the street is they are speaking of where they like to put their purses. Obviously! It's nothing like SEX, come on, why would you think that?

It is irritating to say the least, where I am scanning through my newsfeed and find women I know posting such things. I have enough trouble trying not to think about people I don't know having sex in this crazy culture we live in. The last thing I want to do, as your 'friend', is think about *you* having sex. I don't know whether it makes it more or less awkward if I know your husband/significant other. Believe me. NO ONE is thinking about purses when they read these things.

Ah, but now, today, after I posted a snarky update pointing out my irriation, I get a Facebook message 'explaining' the whole thing. Here it is:

About a year ago, we played the game about what color bra you were wearing at the moment? The purpose was to increase awareness of October Breast Cancer Awareness month. It was a tremendous success and we had men wondering for days what was with the colors and it made it to the news.

This year's game has to do with your handbag/purse, where we put our handbag the moment we get home for example "I like it on the couch", "kitchen counter", "the dresser" well u get the idea. Just put your answer as your status with nothing more than that and cut n paste this message and forward to all your FB female friends to their inbox.

The bra game made it to the news. Let's see how powerful we women really are!!! REMEMBER - DO NOT PUT YOUR ANSWER AS A REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE- PUT IT IN YOUR STATUS!!! PASS THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW!!!

Let us lay aside for a moment the wincing use of 'u' as a real word among other glaring communicational errors and deal with the meat of the message. For what purpose are we doing this? Implicitly, the message seems to be saying we are doing it to raise breast cancer awareness. (Pause for effect, as how this purse 'game' so completely FAILS to express that fact sinks in.) Explicitly, we are doing it to see' how powerful we women really are!!!' Let us take them one at a time.

Did you know it was breast cancer awareness month? I didn't know there was a month! (I say that every year around this time.) I see a pink swirly ribbon on things year 'round, I would consider myself aware of breast cancer. I would consider most people in the modern world aware of breast cancer by this point, with all the publicity that has gone into it. Do we have a lung cancer awareness month? Or a prostate cancer awareness month? How about brain cancer awareness? Uterus, ovarian cancer? Liver cancer, pancreatic cancer? We're going to run out of months, I fear. We may start having to double up. We're going to run out of colors too, maybe. All I know is we must save the boobies.

So! If you log into Facebook (you can tell this is a hypothetical situation because no one ever logs OUT of facebook), and you see a status update from that female friend of yours, and it says 'I like it on the arm of the couch', your thoughts of course jump to pink ribbons and mammograms and chemotherapy and saving breasts. It would take some callous, ignorant, brutish individual to imagine this female having sex on the arm of the couch. All us enlightened humans are busy making the OBVIOUS connection to Breast Cancer Awareness Month!

...OBVIOUS, I say. What, don't you see it? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE EMPEROR ISN'T WEARING ANY CLOTHES. And where does he like it? I bet the emperor has a man-purse, if you know what I mean.

For the sake of the next point, I am going to come straight out and say it: Posting in this manner makes it seem like you are saying you like having sex in cited location. (Pause for the immature of the audience to stifle disgusted giggles.) Which means your reader is thinking about you, having sex. So, let me ask you then, how does making people think about you having sex empower you, as a woman?

...Well?

What? So such a statement is not objectifying you and prostituting you to the well-fed-by-this-culture sexual imaginations of others? You say it's about taking an action to show you are empowered? Oh, and it's about breast cancer awareness? I see!

Oh! And this is a game. Meant to screw with men's minds. Well, there is definitely screwing happening in minds, let me tell you. And we're going to make it to the news with this 'game', where the WHOLE WORLD will then be able to think about us having sex in various locations around the house (and sometimes the car)! AND THIS WILL SAVE BOOBIES!! It all makes so much SENSE.

While all the rest of you tee-hee about how you just posted a sexual innuendo about yourself for all your friends list to see and fantasize about, I'm going to go try and have an intelligent discourse with the menfolk, and then wonder why they won't take me seriously just because I'm a woman.

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END RANT TRANSMISSION

On A Holy Mission of Organization

2010-10-05T13:34:00.000-04:00

I've left for the Organizational Crusades, in case you were wondering. Hopefully one of my brothers does not seize power whilst I am gone and oppress the kingdom.

Right now I'm trying to approach this organizational struggle with more critical analysis than usual. My oft-used strategy is to live mired in disorganization for awhile, then decide that needs to change, go to some place like Office Max and glare at the options wondering which would be best, select one, and bring it home and use it for a week without significant results. This new plan of action involves more abstract theorizing before just going with what strikes me in the heat of organizational distress.

And we all know I am *very* good at abstract theorizing. Gotta use the talents the Good Lord gave us, after all.

I think the major key to organization that I often fail to observe is that of discipline. Put things where they are supposed to go. File things. Take the time to sort the mail every day instead of piling it up over a few days and having bills get lost in the mess. Open bills when they come, pay them when they're opened. Take receipts promptly and put them together, don't let them sit in the 'purse' (my bag Hauly hates being called a purse, even if that's what he is) for months. I am not an overly messy person, but I am one that lacks the discipline of OCD organization. ...Such serious expending of effort to organize is *supposedly* a characteristic of we INTJ types, which is one of the reasons I am a little suspicious of that diagnosis. I love being organized; organiz-ing, not so much.

But then there is a question of time. One of the major reasons I don't often engage in the discipline of organizing is the amount of time it takes. I mean seriously, I'll put up with piles here and there if that means an extra hour of sleep every day this week. So in my mind, good organization is also something that saves time. For example, the idea of numbering every receipt, entering in that number and various other pertinent informations from the receipt by hand into a spreadsheet, and then writing formulas to come up with purchase analysis is far too much time and effort for me to expend on it all. Faithful Readers may recall that I quit clipping coupons entirely, because it got to the point where I was spending two hours every weekend for the purpose of saving, maximum, ten dollars, and usually less than that. When I look back on my life and see the many ways I wasted time, I will at least be proud of the fact that the activity of Clipping Coupons will not be counted among them.

So to me, good organization has immediate and obvious connections to the time it saves. It's like that tenuous-but-all-important connection between work and significance we have. Why do something if there doesn't seem to be a point? Why organize something if it doesn't seem it shall save any time? It seems silly too to start spouting about conspiracy theories concerning organization, but I think there's a grain of truth to it all-- often times it's difficult to see the payoff to putting in time to organize something, and only a lot of time commitment into the process does it become apparent whether or not the scheme is working. I think there are an awful lot of methods of organization out there that haven't been well-thought through in terms of thoughtput and time effectiveness, but are prevalent because they are what is available. Filing cabinets, for example. The bane of my existence is my 2.5 stacks of 'Important Documents' files. They are heavy, unwieldy, unpleasant to paw through, an effort to organize, require constant upkeep, and take up space. They also *encourage* me to save things I probably could throw away; though the little fearful packrat in my crys desperately every time I think to pitch something "But what if you need that at some point?!" I think, in all the time and years I have invested in my Important Document Files, I have perhaps needed something from their contents three or four times. And yet, I must keep them, just in case.

Because come on, these days we have instruction manuals and warranties and invoices and receipts and work orders and serial numbers and group numbers and limited liability clauses and thank-you notes and favorite recipes and everything is copied in triplicate and collated and every single piece must be present in order to make sure that warranty is honored. We have to keep the boxes of what we purchase half the time to not void warranties, for crying out loud. I'm going to need an entire room just to hold everything pretaining to my purchases here soon. Why not? I've already got boxes of receipts and a 'special' area of the garage where the packaging goes to float in a kind of 'holding formation' until years later when it's finally given permission to land in a garbage can. Often, months after the actual product has been disposed of.

Sorry. I think I've gotten a bit sidetracked into a rant about waste and our consumerist society. Next time, Gadget, next time.

So. Let's start with receipts, and just think about them for now. What do I need to save them for? Returning things, tracking purchases, and tax-related activities. In terms of returning things, what information do I need to know right away as I am searching for the receipt? The nature of the return policy, what method of payment. What information might be necessary to search for the receipt? The date, the store, the card used, the item in question. How can I create an efficient storage method for receipts that enables me to access what I need quickly, but also doesn't take a huge amount of time to upkeep?

My analysis took me to the environment of receipts. Where do they live? They are birthed at a register, travel around in plastic bags or purses, hang out in cars and on desks, and in general creep into all sorts of odd 'I'll-deal-with-them-later' places. The first task, therefore, is to prevent them from wandering off unattended by themselves on 'adventures'. More than there needing to be a place to put them to be organized, there needs to be a place for them when they are put in my hand directly after purchasing an item, a place that can transport them to their final destination without getting distracted. These are not passengers subject to free will and whimsy; receipts are to be treated as hostile cargo, wrangled and restrained all the way from holding cell to final prison.

So it seems to me there needs to be one designated place in the purse for them to go. The transport vehicle, if you will. It's going to need to be something a bit stronger than a basic envelope too, an envelope will get beaten and battered to bits by the ride. A thin index card box, perhaps. Hard plastic, nothing fragile, something that can take hard knocks but by the same token isn't going to be too big or bulky. There shouldn't be a buildup of receipts anyway; this is just what's getting them from point A to B. Point B being the car.

The car! A jungle offering amazing cover for the receipt resistance. Under seats, in glove compartments, under rugs, stashed in doors, the possibilities for hideouts are endless. Though the rebels are flushed out every three months or so when the car is cleaned, it seems more a treatment of a symptom than of the disease itself. So, what can we do? How about a box with divisions in it for filing? Again, no envelopes. Envelopes encourage anarchy. Sure, those receipts look all obedient, crammed together in that envelope, but inside they execute plans of dastardly disorganization. They don't file themselves in order. They don't line up, folding themselves into bizarre oragami-failed shapes. They stick to each other and face the wrong way, or else curl up upside-down. They are a fast shove at the outset, just stuff that uppity receipt in there, but then you have a bulging envelope of uncooperative receipts to fumble through if you need anything.

Clips, though. Not like paper clips, that's like a squirt gun when I need a bazooka. I'm talking about the ones with tension and springs in them. To clip a pile of receipts together with any amount of success, they need to have been forced into uniform line before the clipping.

And then we need some divisions. I say some because there is inherent danger in too many: thirty different categories of receipts is just overkill, and though it seems like a simple solution to just create a new category any time something doesn't seem to fit one, likely you'll end up with fifty categories of one receipt each. That crosses the line of too much time spent for minimal return, here. Sure, the danger of too few categories is confusion and lack of true organization. But this peril I think can be headed off by a more thoughtful choice of categories.

Like, think about it. What do I return most often? Clothes. Followed distantly by a grocery item. And I have a separate card for groceries and gas. So it makes sense therefore to have a category of Clothes, and a separate category for Groceries. But I never need to return gas. Or any pet food I buy. Or that loaf of bread I get at Panera. Take out doesn't need returned.

So here we have four categories: Groceries, Clothes, Gas, Purchased Food (in the sense that I buy a meal at a restaurant, not buy the ingredients to make the meal). What else is there? You can get into micro categories at this point-- hardware purchase, office supplies, gardening, photo development, drug store. Or we could just say Non-Grocery Goods, which all have about the same rate of return, that is, VERY LOW. Then we have doctor visits and car services, which tend to carry with them large invoice sheets along with their receipts; these are important not for returns ("Excuse me doctor! I want to exchange this liver, it's still under warranty!") but for documentation concerning wellness of both person and serviced machine. So these need their own special holding cell, one that can accommodate their large size. I happen to have a few thin legal-sized plastic case I bought in Japan that will do the job; one for the large invoices and the other for receipts to lay flat in, clipped into their bundles on their way home. Here's another way to think about this: I'm storing with the prisoners lying down face up, not wedged vertically into an accordian file or an envelope where it isn't clear precisely what they're up to.

Finally, the prison at home. The same sort of lay-flat conditions need to be there, but everyone needs easy access. So perhaps an individual small box for each category, stored on top of/alongside the pile of legal-sized receipts, namely Internet Orders. Medical/Service receipts ought to be filed separately into their folders. This final box needs to be not too very big, but large enough to fit the small boxes within it, and it will be this box that is stored away yearly once the taxes are done.

The handling of the receipts throughout this process too is key. At the register, there is a surprising amount of time to color-code a receipt; to dot it with a blue marker to denote 30-day return, a red one for no exchange, or a green one for store-credit only. At a red light, there is plenty of time to clip a receipt to its designated bundle. Walking in the door and dropping the shopping bags on the chair and then dropping the bundled receipts in their required boxes is nearly the same thing. Where is time commitment necessary? In the processing of the Service receipts, and in the occasional collecting of clips from the prison to put them back in the car for use. A couple minutes at the register counter to color-code and tuck firmly into the receipt box holding cell. A passing of time while waiting for a light to change in traffic. The car stays clean. The purse stays clean. The desk stays clean. The receipts fall in line. Divide, and conquer.

And that, my friend, is how you run an Organizational Crusade.

Current Tea: Mint Chocolate
Current Project: Felling the heathen Enemy of Disorganization

Interior/Exterior

2010-10-04T11:07:00.001-04:00

I'm watching two spiders in the corner of my office fighting. Er, either that or it's some courting/mating ritual. I'll let you know when the female viciously devours the male. Or when I go get the vacuum and suck them both up.

It happens occasionally, I wake up with a headache and various other neck-related pains. Sometimes I think it's related to a build-up of lack of sleep over the past few days, sometimes I think it's just poor positioning through the night, and sometimes I think it's biorhythm-related to monthly and weekly and daily cycles and all that. Today's head-and-neckache might well be a combination of all three. Suffice it to say, it is one of the least encouraging things, waking up with a headache. I was all expecting well-restedness and sleeping in and leisurely getting up; instead I get a headache driving me out of bed and searching for the ibuprofen.

Not like I should complain too terribly much. Medicine makes it feel better, good enough to function properly at least.

And there is a fair amount I was hoping to do today, mostly boring around-the-house stuff. I need to marinate some chicken, pick up objects lying around on some carpeted areas (we're getting the carpets cleaned tomorrow), and work on the baseboards in the room I just painted. Investigation has lead me to find our stash of paint from when the house was built, so I believe I've found the right match for the light color on the baseboards and thus don't have to worry about going out and attempting to find a match; I can get right to the touch up. I really must go back and scrub all the baseboards first, which is an extra step I'm not too keen on, but so it goes. Also, I'm slightly nervous about doing the baseboards in this newly-painted room, because I know as soon as my dad sees how fast I get it done he will surely direct me to the rest of the baseboards in the house. THAT is a project that could take me several days.

The large and easily-attained success of the room-painting project has lead me quickly to think about other rooms in the house that I might be interested in painting. My own room tempted me briefly, but honestly all I do in that room is sleep; if I am looking at the walls I'm doin' it wrong. And in most cases, the color we have right now on the wall seems perfectly acceptable. But there IS a bathroom on the first floor, poor decor-neglected first floor bathroom, that I think would be a great candidate for painting. It's QUITE a small room, so it would probably get painted even faster than the bedroom, and it really needs some love. As it is it doesn't even have a towel-rack on the wall. Now THAT sounds like something I ought to figure out how to install!

Beyond all this I do need to find time to start winterizing the landscaping. The gardening report from my efforts this year is pretty miserable: cucumber and zucchini plants died a horrible powdery mildewy death, the tomatoes don't taste right, and the blueberry bushes aren't producing berries. The only positive thing that came of it all was the set of four small watermelons that I managed to grow successfully. This probably means next year I need to heavily condition the soil before starting to grow again; Faithful Readers will recall the abysmal test results of my soil nutrient levels. I will need to continue to acidify the soil around the blueberry and raspberry plants, and figure out what to replace several dead plants with (this whole too-much-water-not-enough-water thing is driving me nuts). Also, I again lost most of my potted herbs. I don't quite know what does it, whether I just miss a day or two of watering and that's it? Or if I should be giving the plants more nutrients more often.

What I'm sure this all comes down to is I just don't put as much effort into the plants as I ought, but there is only so much effort I can expend in a single day. I love the way a well-landscaped yard looks, but if it's not something I enjoy doing over a long time commitment, then perhaps I should scale back. Of course, I might enjoy it more if I don't make stupid mistakes like buying all my plants from a nursery that obviously had a powdery mildew infection on most things and thus lose most of my crop before harvest. Ah well, failure contributes to future success.

Current Tea: Blackberry Green
Current Project: House stuff

Music?

2010-09-30T15:36:00.000-04:00

Trying something new with my music. I have in the past, as I have acquired songs I like, slowly filled CDs of my own design, one after another. Thing is though, I just went by approximate acquisition date, and took great pains to assemble the songs in a varietal manner, that is, mixing the moods of songs on a single CD. I approached it as an art project, beginning softly or else with a bang, filling the 'journey' of the CD with peaks and valleys, moments of triumph, moments of angst, moments of calm, moments of tension and moments of resolution. Sort of like writing a story with songs, I guess.

But see, I never realized when I actually *listen* to the music, I skip over songs depending on my mood. If I am feeling angsty, I listen to the angsty songs and skip the calming ones. If I'm in the mood for calm, I skip the upbeat ones. If I'm in the mood for driving and angry, I skip anything slower and sweeter. So at any given point on one CD, I'm only listening to one fourth to half of the songs I put there per cycle.

So why not make mixes based entirely on a mood instead of what's freshest in my ears? I've been sorting through my best rated songs, creating four new playlists as I go: Angst, Upbeat, Calm, and Fighting. It's not always a clearcut call, but I've already practically filled these four new CDs. I hope I finish this little experiment soon, because with a recent cleaning out of the car, I took out my collection of self-made CD mixes and left only one CD in the player itself. Ironically, it's one of my least-liked mixes, and so every time I drive somewhere, I reach to change the CD and remember I took my supply out for restocking.

Current Tea: Oolong Shalimar
Current Project: Deep cleaning the kitchen

Creme de la

2010-09-29T11:38:00.001-04:00

When I was little, I didn't get gravy. It was all creamy and gooey and it went over mashed potatoes, which I frankly didn't get either. I stuck with my meat and cranberry sauce and if I was lucky bread-- essentially, a sandwich.

There is a very specific consistency that I never liked growing up, this creamy-type that really would bother me. Yogurt, for example. I never ate yogurt until I was 20 or so. 'True' macaroni and cheese I still can't eat-- the macaroni is too soft and the cheese mixture is way too much of that awful creaminess. I still hold many grudges against icing and whipped cream of all varieties. 'Hallo. My name is Inigo Montoya. You ruined the consistency of my dessert. Prepare to die.'

That point when ice cream turns more into cream puddles? Disgusting. Ricotta cheese has barred any and all lasagna from me. French onion soup could never happen, nor could putting bread or croutons of any sort into soup to soggify them. Speaking of soggy things, milk in cereal is gross. And cottage cheese is right out.

I like gravy now though. It makes way more sense, especially now that I know how to make a good version of it that doesn't come from a package full of MSG. I still would take a baked potato over a mashed one, especially when my brothers make them (they seem to think that mashed potatoes are most awesome when they are of a pudding consistency), but when I make mashed potatoes they are thicker and less... well, creamy. Smooth, yes, creamy? No. 'Textured', more like. Not lumpy, just... something for your mouth to grip onto instead of it sliding around over your tongue.

Yogurt and pudding are okay now too. I still don't eat cottage cheese, yuck.

And of course, if we travel to the opposite end of the spectrum of textures, one finds that I enthusiastically profess my love to any and all chewy and crunchy-type foods. Caramel comes in two versions, the soft creamy and the work-at-it-for-an-hour chewy, and guess which one I prefer? I'll sort through kettle-cooked chips (like regular chips but BETTER) to find the ones most folded because they are the crunchiest. I love food meant to have different textures: pistachio or oreo ice cream for example. And I love anything with a velvety texture: cake un-iced, fresh soft bread, and the pure smooth ice cream flavors too, like simple chocolate. If there is something to chew, soft and smooth is a lovely flavor; if it's liquid-creamy, that same soft and smooth becomes disturbingly wrong to me.

I say all this because this 'morning' for lunch I had a bowl with leftover mashed potatoes, corn, chicken, and gravy mixed in like a sludgy soup, and it was tasty.

EDIT: How can I forget Hummus?? I perhaps love hummus too much...

Current Tea: Marzipan
Current Project: finding someone to help me move this giant desk so I can paint walls

Messing Around

2010-09-28T15:21:00.000-04:00

There is never a moment I am more totally aware of the general and consistent depravity of mankind as it is when I'm cleaning-- specifically, when I am cleaning the mess of others.

Because, you know, we're used to our own messes. I'm sure everyone that might come and glance into my office would just shudder at the piles of things: stacks of paper, a mess of pens, boxes in need of breaking down and recycling, an old broken mixer on the floor, my mom's old much duct-taped office chair (currently being used to hold a pile of books), an ironing board decorated with expired coupons... and I don't really see much of it, because I hang out in this room every day. My focus is usually on either the computer screen, or Miss CinnTeak.

I could give you excuses. Technically this is my mom's sewing room, so I'm sort of wedged halfway between her great collection of sewing-related machines, fabrics, books, and other materials. But really, though I adore organization, I don't seem able to stick with it well. The one thing I will say about my messiness though, is that it is universally the 'dry' sort, made of loose papers and index cards and stacks of half-finished art projects. What I classify as the 'wet' sort of messiness involves far grosser content, like dishes with things growing on them.

But my POINT here is that I don't notice my own mess, and I think most people don't unless a guest comes over or something. We, however, notice others' messes far more. And let's face it, most of us are messy. Human beings in general are gross, and we make messes. There is a division of people who obsess over how clean their surroundings are, and take great joy in cleanliness. And really, let me ask you, what human being desires to live in squalor? There is an appeal to cleanliness, something that attracts us to the clean and well-organized. We want it, though very likely we don't want to invest the time it takes to get it.

Because having things clean, like just about anything in this world, takes effort. In a culture drunkenly stumbling further and further into the stupor of instant gratification, clean surroundings seem to be harder and harder to come by because of the effort it takes. I'll be the very first person to say that there is little enough time in life, why spend all of it just cleaning? ...But I know enough to know some cleaning is necessary. It's finding the balance between it all, you know?

But I've been bringing things out of my bro's room to empty it of furniture, and I'm still just aghast at the messiness. Aghast. I found a bowl in it that had been there so long the colorful things growing in it had died from starvation. Piles of CDs, just stacked atop each other. Empty boxes, empty bottles, empty this and that and the other. Broken things that haven't been thrown away. I'm saying, there was trash crammed into drawers. My mind just... reels. I pray for whoever he may end up marrying in the dealing with this. It's a personality trait and a pattern of behavior that will not be instantly correctable. He has gotten incrementally better but... seriously. How hard is it to take the bowl, which served as a vessel of food unto your stomach, back to the kitchen?

What really irks me is that he has a tendency to just take things that are not his to use as he sees fit, which usually means until he ruins them. I have lost DVDs, games, CDs, and more to him. I did not give them to him, or even let him borrow them. He just decided he wanted them, took them, and ruined them. I am missing several old games I am wondering about, and have a dark suspection they were either lent to a friend and never returned, or taken and sold without my permission to finance other games. Seriously. I had a copy of Final Fantasy IV back when it was Final Fantasy II. The original strange English translation. You know, red background, SNES cartridge. I am fairly sure it's gone forever, and the gamer in me weeps.

So this is one major reason why I am enjoying how he has moved out. His mess, I'm sure, is still there-- but it's not in *my* house. Oh wait, it is a little-- he left residual mess, which I'm finding as I took back the bathroom and am now prepping his room for painting. I think that's what gets to me the most about it, the fact that his mess encroaches on me and my efforts. He *said* he was all moved out, and then I come and find more piles of stuff crammed in the closet and in the drawers of the furniture left behind.

But is this not interesting? We all hide dark and dirty parts of ourselves away from others. Can you imagine someone going through the drawers and closets of your mind to pull out the awful messes found there? My judgmentality, my elitism, my selfishness, my hatred, my disrespect, my resentment... I can go on, though I will take shelter under these umbrella terms to spare you the awful moldy details. In some odd way, to see someone's mess lying out in plain view is almost refreshing. They are not hiding it away in drawers or closets. It's there to see, along with their struggle with it. The most terrible thing about mess to me is not the mess itself, but in the finding of it when I thought the area was clean. To find mess covered up, hidden, and kept from me in a purposeful manner is the worst. ...Though, that is what we all instinctively do with our messes, is that not so? Hide it so no one can see how messy we are.

Loose Leaf Thoughts

2010-09-27T14:34:00.003-04:00

So very much to share with you all, all at once. When it rains blog entries, it pours, you know?

I'm camped out at the car dealership, waiting for my car to be serviced. It's one of those long 3+ hour services, so I came prepared: computer, sketchbook, colored pens for notes, and plenty of iPhone-driven music. It's a nice place for car servicing, with a large waiting room, several couches, a television, a cubby-carved area with computers, a coffee machine, various and sundry vending machines, and even a kids area. What's very amusing to me, and I'm sure all the car salesmen, is that of all these locale choices, I'm chillin' in the kid's area. There's a lovely low-set counter along the wall, so I grabbed a kid's little chair and shoved it against this little kid's counter, plugged my computer into a child-friendly plug-covered electrical outlet, and have been the most comfortable I have *ever* been sitting and working. I swear, when I grow up and have my own house and money and everything, I am putting in a counter like this or something. Or getting a child's desk to work at. Everything is so ideally sized for me it's not even funny.

It comes from this terrible restlessness that strikes me when I sit with my legs dangling down, feet resting on the floor. You know, normal posture. I can't stand it, for some reason. When I sit in church, I pick my feet up and sit cross-legged with shoes on the chair for as long as I can manage before a foot falls asleep. When I play WoW, I'm curled up in my office chair, knees up to my chest, feet perched on the edge of the chair. I can't even sling one leg over the other, they're still dangling. I would rather sit on the floor than sit on a chair normally. And now that I'm sitting 'normally' here in the kids area, I'm certain it's because my legs are too short.

Well, let me rephrase that. *I'm* too short.

I misjudged the timing of the day and so I ended up with an hour to kill before the car service appointment today. That's never good. Dangerous things happen, like the buying of tea. There's a college-student-geared café in the historic district of town that's fairly new, a tea and spice company they bill themselves as, so I stopped in to look around. I'd been there once, but hadn't been impressed with their service or selection; my second time around, I was more respectful of both. Their service is not completely attentive because they are so many things at once, with sit-down service in addition to regular merchandise shopping, and they were pleasantly busy. Their selection was still not exhaustive, but they did have a lot... just not a lot that I *hadn't* tried . Yes, I am that tea snob.

But I did pick up two new blends, one called Ontario Ice Wine and the other Pomegranate Hibiscus. The first is a white tea that carries with it the sweet and smooth flavors of ice wine, which makes sense to me in that both wine and tea to a degree are fermented. The other surprised me with an intensely fruity yet balanced flavor paired with what is clearly a high-quality green tea-- something that usually is not used when blending a flavored green tea, since flavor can mask a poorer quality tea leaf. Ah, see what happens when I have free time? I BUY TEA.

I'm going to paint a room here in the next week or so. I was finally able to get my dad to buy himself some bedroom furniture and a new mattress to help his back, so we'll be moving the odds and ends he's been using into my bro's recently vacated room. I've decided it paint it! It's a nice short-term project for myself, I think. I get to pick out the color and everything. Anyway, it falls to me to get that room ready, so I'm gearing up for it.

In keeping with the previous blog entry's main thrust, I do intend to post more here, for practice's sake I suppose, but it never really *has* been that much of a burden. I have a lot to say right now on various topics, especially because I'm starting to do things like read again. I still have my heart set on learning new things as always, so I'll keep you updated of that. And yet, I do not intend to neglect my writing and drawing either.

Also, the Quinn the Eskimo song was playing while I was wandering through a furniture store in my attempt to spend my time aside from tea purchases. Two thoughts: I *do* like this song! and I really *love* woodwork.

Current Tea: Still Blackberry
Current Project: Moar Practice

10,000 Hours Of

2010-09-27T14:01:00.000-04:00

Practice, practice, practice.

I just finished reading Malcolm Gladwell's book Blink, and now I'm plunging into Outliers. Blink, a fascinating study on the psychology of 'snap judgments', was completely amazing and I recommend it to everyone, and that means you too. Outliers is starting out with a bit less of a bang, but something within it has really struck me to the very core.

For those of you lazy web surfers who did *not* click on my carefully hand-coded hyperlinks above (like hand-dipped ice cream, crafted with care and... wait, what *else* dips ice cream REALLY?), the idea behind Outliers is to examine those exceptional and different individuals that excel, and why. It deals with a somewhat common debate, that of innate talent vs. hard work, and a large number of interesting studies showing how an individual excelling in a particular field owes a lot more to the opportunities he is presented with to practice his craft than anything else. In particular, one study examined the amount of practice hours logged by several groups of violinists: the Great, the Merely Good, and the Lacking. No matter how 'talented' people claimed the great violinists were, what they *really* had over the rest is simply that in their lifetime, they had practiced more hours. They started practicing more, and the more they practiced the higher the classes in music they took, which resulted in more classes (while the Lacking practiced a few hours a week, and never added to that quantity). Which, when added up over the course of their lifetimes, for the Great this equated to about 10,000 hours.

10,000 hours, you see, is apparently the magic number.

Let's take a brief scenic detour of a thought here.

I was recently encouraged to take one of those Meyers-Briggs diagnostic tests, and the results pegged me as an INTJ type, that is, Introverted Intuitive Thinking Judgmental type. I am a little skeptical of some of it, because when I read up on that particular type I think I exhibit much less of an obsession with making order than it puts forth. I love order itself, but I am much more relaxed about implementing it, to the point where my whimsical attitude toward it would drive any trueINTJ type to madness. So, I don't know exactly what that leaves me with, but of course, we as people are never purely black and white, but shades of gray between them.

What *was* fascinating though was that this type of person is one that looks as people less with emotion and more as resources. 'How can I utilize this person and their gifts/talents/actions/efforts' is a common thought process of we INTJs. I never had this conscious thought until I read about this, but that completely lines up with my thoughts often. The most negative manifestation of this is in manipulation, which I admit I've struggled with throughout my life. A positive manifestation is the arranging of people and the coordinating of them to bring out the best of them all. But even more than looking at people as resources, we look at everything as a resource, to be analyzed and attempted to be applied as soon as it is offered. One of the most striking statements about INTJs was that we are very good at grasping complex ideas quickly, but we are focused on taking the ideas and seeing what we can gain from them, instead of taking the concepts in theoretical situations to new and unexplored places. We are so conclusion-driven we pick apart such ideas to find their utility, not their possibility. Which means we often miss the point of the idea and the concept, lost in favor of what we can gain from it as quickly as possible. My picture was there next to this description. I am that accurate a manifestation of this.

I have *always* struggled with this. I am absolutely brilliant at taking a concept and applying it right away. It's how I flew through school by the seat of my pants, drawing instead of taking notes and spending my hours after school writing books. But I very frequently missed the point of things, only to discover the why of it all painfully and through much frustration years after the fact. You can preach at me any number of guiding principles, conceptual thoughts, underlying themes. I am a false-figure-it-out-then-do-for-awhile-then-finally-really-figure-it-out-later person. I won't really *get* something until I nod and smile to force you through your explanation quickly, muck about with it all, and then maybe half a year later the lightbulb will go on. I am way more interested in making an idea work for me than thinking about it from all angles. Doesn't that sound sad and pathetic and selfish? 'What do I gain from this? Never mind anything else!'

Okay, back to 10,000 hours of practice.

When I was younger, there were many things I tried to do and did not do well at. Soccer. Acting. Singing. Piano. Oboe. Violin. Ballet. Karate. Throughout it all, my dad would try to advise me on how to get better, trying to inspire me with words of wisdom and exhortations. It all came back to one mantra though: practice.

I of course didn't listen to him. Much. I practiced when it was convenient, or when I felt like if I went too long without practicing I was going to get yelled at or something. And I wondered why I didn't do well at such things! I always felt bad of course, facing my teachers and such when I hadn't practiced, or didn't get into the plays or the special choirs. But, though I understand viscerally that practice = less embarrassment = parents happy with me... somehow, despite every single lecture my dad gave me, the idea that practice = getting better eluded me. Practice was unpleasant, but stupidly necessary. Like homework. Get just enough done so I could go play games. My blindness is, to me now, brain-breaking. How did I not see this?? And where did my 10,000 hours go??

They went into my writing, of course. And to a lesser extent, my drawing.

In middle school, I hand-wrote out story notes and lengthy made up plot synopses. In high school I wrote 463 pages of a book series that will never see the light of day (Faithful Readers all groan at this, 'She's talking about the old book again). I started a blog in March 2004, which means I've been blogging for over 6 years. I'm in the process of writing another series of books, one I've logged over seven hundred pages on. In the time I should have been working on my math homework or reading political science, I've been writing instead. And I took time nearly every day, without any discipline required, to write something online. I started drawing through classes in 3rd grade and never stopped; I drew a comic for a year and even went to art school for it all. Without realizing it, I've put the hours into these crafts. And when I read about the 10,000 hours in Gladwell's Outliers, I was just stunned. Here was my exact thought: It's *always* been about the amount of time practiced, you fool!

I always thought that, based on where I am with my art, that I had hit 'the talent wall'. I just can't get any better, and what's the point in trying? I'm only going to get older, I've missed my most formative learning years, I'm not good enough now anyway. But these 10,000 hours have ignited a kind of savage emotion in me. If it takes me until I'm 40, or 50, or 60 to log them, by practicing I *will* improve.

See how brain-numbingly blind I am to concepts? How did I really truly not *get* this concept, all the years of my life??

Of course, you see also that my manipulative mind is already looking at the 10,000 hours and trying to untilize this information to maximize my own personal gain. 'So start practicing more. Log the hours,' I admonish myself. 'Who cares how long it takes, what mistakes you make. You've got so much room to improve. The barriers you put up with yourself, the future projections you've made to force yourself to give in and give up are completely false. It's why there are artists that don't come into their own until the second half of their life, and it goes to show you can do whatever the hell you put the time into.'

So, my thinking has been changed in the past 48 hours by these two things: 10,000 hours and my strange method of processing ideas in terms of utilization. What are the conclusions I've reached (oh, the conclusions, I *swoon* with delight!)? Practice more. Linger on ideas a bit more. Make an effort to think of people *as* people whenever possible. And don't be afraid to fail amidst it all.

Seriously, I've had a momentous week in terms of deep guiding principles. My paradigm has changed radically, and all this is barely scratching the surface. I'm sure, if I know myself, there will be more words about it all up here soon.

Current Tea: Blackberry
Current Project: Writing practice!

Skating The Lines

2010-09-23T15:39:00.000-04:00

The verdict on the new skate wheels is thus: working as intended.

That is, as advertised. They *are* slower than my 76a wheels. Not by much, but enough to notice. Enough to have lost a certain sense of effortless speed when ramped up, or the wind be at my back, arrrrr. And in exchange, they *do* seem to handle better. There is more grip to them, which means sharper turns.

I think the purchase and experimentation with them was good. I think 76a wheels are the most ideal feel in terms of what I like in wheels, and the next set I buy will be thus. But I don't think the 74a wheels are bad enough to merit a reversion to the old wheels, or an immediate correction purchase. I think the grip gain/speed loss translates into a better work out since I'll be pushing harder to achieve a speed I prefer. And the grip doesn't feel like drag. Just better control, and Faithful Readers all know how much I love controlling things.

I've been home tooling around on CinnTeak these past few days, chipping away at some drawings I've been endeavoring to color. I've been intently studying Ian Holm's coloring work in effort to figure out how he does it; if I could create colored work, I would want mine to look like his. Or maybe a little bit like Tomomi Kobayashi's work (the site's all in Japanese, you've been warned!), but that is neither here nor there. The latest guiding principle I've been trying to grasp is more about shapes and constructing them; Faithful Readers remember how I am always forgetting to 'close' shapes and thus prevent true volume illusion from being created. Adding to this now, I see how Ian's work is very simple on the micro-level. The lines he used to construct his shapes are straight lines and very simple curves. In attempting to convey a wrinkle on a shirt, instead of complicating things by an excessive amount of wrinkles he will instead construct the shape of the shirt with clean lines and throw one or two crisp wrinkles in. It's really a beautiful essence of cartooning, an iconizing of content to minimize confusion, and maximize styling.

This of course contrasts sharply with my style, which tends to over-complicate on linework. My work tends to look best in the sketch stage, but as one moves towards an inked piece it becomes increasingly clear that the drawing doesn't stand well without all that mess of lines.

I have a second, very angled and extremely stylized style I've been working on in the past few years, which I like very much for its charicature and exaggeration, while at the same time preserving my love of 'sketch' lines. Instead of inking things with a be-all-end-all single and definitive line, I can instead draw multiple lines to stand as one line without losing the strength of definition in favor of the hazier sketch quality. That style doesn't come altogether naturally, and it doesn't agree often in terms of subject matter; it seems a very sharp, almost caustic humorous commentary on its subject matter. It is a style that does not shy away from drawing paunch or wrinkles or acne or receding hairlines; it is a style that almost seems to delight in these imperfect aspects of people. And yet it is clean; I have always disliked the dirty linework of people like Robert Crumb. It's a style I tend to pull out and use when I'm observing people, say, at the airport or some such public place. I get the most mileage out of it when observing people and drawing what I see, as opposed to my softer, less aggressive 'normal' style that tends to be used when I'm drawing characters and scenes from my head.

I am not sure of the psychology of it all, but I think drawing in different styles is somewhat akin to when one person speaks several different languages; there are subtle and subconscious personality changes. I think when I work in this sharp style I gain a lot of reckless confidence. The lines come faster; part of the lifeblood of the drawing is in the bold strokes made when constructing it. My normal style seems more true to myself; afraid to make major changes, a careful treading only within a comfort zone, and a frustration when things don't turn out the way I planned them. The sharper style seems less concerned with frustration and more with finding a speed-ridden groove of bold strokes.

...Not altogether unlike skating.

Current Project: drawing and coloring
Current Tea: Blackberry Green tea from the Ohio Renaissance Festival. Hoping to get more when I go next month!

Monday, Just another Manic

2010-09-20T13:37:00.000-04:00

Gaaaah. Today is one of those awful days where the creative wellspring inside me is going through a dry spell. I have four different possible projects to devote myself to all spread out across my table at the library, and I can't seem to get any work done.

Project #1. My writing of course. Nested within that project are two different possible starting points. Neither of which seem to be spawning any work.

Project #2. I have my plot logistics journal open and I've been poking at the two main characters and trying to better understand their motives. Maybe not the best time to be figuring out that I might have an underlying motivational problem with one of them? He always DID make himself difficult.

Project #3. I have two different sketchbooks with me, and neither one seems willing to give up a drawing.

Project #4. I found a book on CSS and XHTML in the library that I am actually finding useful; that is, the information presented is geared specifically for 'designers' (read: artsy folk) who don't have a background in programming but still want to create websites. (note: That is me.) It's been a good read so far just in the first chapter; I already understand worlds more in a few pages than I have in the past few years of on-again-off-again searching for guidance via the web.

So that's a lot of stuff. A few chores around the house are poking at me in the back of my brain-- maybe take care of your garden for once? Or perhaps tidy the basement? But that would require leaving the library and going home. Which I don't want to do to waste my library time, I won't have any for the next two days. But am I really *accomplishing* anything sitting here switching projects manically?

I guess I'm looking for a quick accomplishment fix to get me to settle down and focus more, but at the same time I know there's some awful restlessness within me over it all keeping me focused. What's even more annoying is I bet tomorrow and Wednesday, when I'm doing other things, I'll be *longing* for time in the library.

Bah. I guess as long as I keep trying I'm doing something right. As long as I'm not just sitting here wallowing in frustration. Trying again, trying again.

Current Project: Grrrrr...
Current Tea: Peaches n' Cream

Mixology

2010-09-02T15:37:00.000-04:00

Double post! Like a Twix candy bar, or a Reese's. I love candy bars that come in pairs.

My original intent was to tell you Faithful Readers about how I'm 'between arcs' at the moment in Planned Story, which means I'm doing less writing and more confused brainstorming. I've come up with a lot of practical details to everything, but the gap I've yet to bridge is a more emotional connection I need to make with several characters. I've got to essentially find a way to move the characters in specific growth directions, and that always seems to take the longest. Characterization is without a doubt one of the most enjoyable parts of writing for me, but it is a long and arduous sculpting process. Writers talk about characters being 'One-dimensional' versus 'Three-dimensional' to imply that some characters are flat and simple while others are complex and full of depth. I really don't know if 'Two-dimensional' comes into play in most writers' vocabularies, but I certainly use it! To me, characterization is a spectrum that I'm constantly sliding my characters along. They always start simple, with one dimension, and then we see how many dimensions we can add on. The longer a project is, the more chance there is to make characters very deep and complex... but there is also a greater danger of screwing up and accidentally flattening a few dimensions from neglect.

Also, when a character is created, there is a certain Upper Bound Limit to how complex they can get. No amount of phanagling (I'll spell it how I want!) will get them to reach beyond their final level of potential. There are just things some characters can't do, not without breaking the Willing Suspension of Disbelief contract with the reader. But see... the trick is to push them as close to that limit as possible. I think that's what makes characters people say are 'memorable'-- characters that are very complex and are pushing the absolute limit of believeability... not breaking it.

So I'm working with some characters that present particular challenges to me. There are several that seem too one-dimensional, and a few that are sitting square at their Limit. And I somehow need to craft a few scenes with them that will effectively slide those lower along the spectrum higher, and vice versa for those near the limit. Think in terms of sound design, where I need to punch up the volume on several instruments I'm mixing in, and keep those already very loud from overwhelming the rest or getting so loud they start clipping. And the whole has to sound good at the end, just as much as the individual pieces.

But usually, when this process hits, this means I take a break from writing to deal with other things. Like cleaning and organizing. Er, and playing Metroid.

In drawing-related news, I searched Google recently to see how Corel Painter has been lately. When last we interacted, it was when I was at SCAD with a free copy-- which I have since found you can't re-download once you're no longer a student there. My initial search seemed to indicate I could find the software for like $80 at Amazon (though I think I'm trying to give my business to other online merchants, after that callous shipping fiasco of theirs), but upon closer inspection I see that's for the education version. ...The real deal costs $340 off the company website, and I think I saw it discounted by a hundred elsewhere. I'm thinking I might get it as my Christmas present this year. I like Photoshop and all, but I have been repeatedly inspired by concept art I know is being produced in Painter. Though I do need to be careful, I only have so much time in the day for things, and if I'm going to spend money on art software I better be using it.

But I make mention of the art software because I'm sort of trying to decide whether to attempt to commit to an art project or two while I'm 'in between arcs'. My website pokes at the back of my head all the time, but working on that is a major major major commitment that I am sort of afraid to make right now. Also, it really would be better to have more work to post before posting! Also, I wish I had a big scanner. Man, I am greedy when it comes to my cybernetic art studio, aren't I?? Have I mentioned the camera I want too lately? Ah, but if Faithful Readers pay any attention to my previous post, they'll know I am pretty content to wait a long while yet on these sorts of things. ESPECIALLY because right now, I am a writer, not an artist. Let's get the books done first.

Current Tea: Moar tea, moar tea!
Current Project: Many blog entries! Handle it!

Phone Saga

2010-09-02T14:55:00.000-04:00

お久しぶり、and all that.

So aside from a fun trip to Arizona (faithful readers know I never blog while traveling, and rarely do I give you the faintest idea of what transpired while on the trip!), the big news is I now have an iPhone.

Technology comes in feast-or-famine sort of spurts for me. I do love new things, fun gadgets, and expensive toys, but I also have this practical streak in me. The one that says 'you don't need to buy a new computer every year'. Er, well, I suppose in the best light it would be called 'practical', in the worst it would be called 'guilt'.

But see, in order to cut down on my technological spending, my working theory when buying something is thus: figure out what I need, and how long it needs to last, and buy what will deliver. I don't buy the bare minimum computer specs I need from Dell or what. Sure, that computer is only $699! But odds are I'll be needing a new one this time next year, if that. AND I will only be no end of frustrated as the computer beats its head, bumblebee-like, against the Screen Door of Inadequacy when it tries to run programs like Photoshop.

C'mon, admit it, you've missed my metaphors.

So, as Faithful Readers know, when I buy a computer, I pimp it out with purple plush carpet and gold accents. Also RAM or something. Yes. I bring up Ol' Man Compy again because he is fast approaching his 7th birthday, and that will mean, based on the amount I paid for him back forever ago, that I have spent about $650 every year he has been alive to have, hold, and upkeep him-- that's including the two dead and replaced hard drives! This is like a Mastercard commercial right here. One Pimped Out Crotchety Old Compy: $3000-some dollars. Seven years going strong and still computing with the best of them: Priceless.

The money was very briefly there for me to get a new laptop, and I was sorely tempted. And yet, for some reason, now doesn't seem like the right time. I have never been one to put much stock in feelings, because I know my emotions are not to be trusted, but it just seems like right now, I have everything I need, computer-wise (well, everything except for one thing, which I'll get to later). My brother actually just bought a shiny new Macbook Pro, and I'm all kinds of proud of him for switching to Mac. I don't have any foaming-at-the-mouth blind loyalty, but I am as of right now still of the mind that Macs build a computer with a much lower 'User Frustration Threshold'. Cf. my blog entry on my currencies three.

...Not like his purchase negated my own. He used his own money. And I was somewhat jealous. But with Ol' Man Compy still going defiantly strong and Minion quietly getting the job done, I just can't justify getting a new laptop right now. See, that reliability thing about Macs? These computers as just too reliable to merit getting another!

Ah, but an iPhone. How did that happen?

Xenon (my old phone), though somewhat fun in the sense that it was a touch phone, has never really behaved properly for me. I don't remember if I mentioned last year how, within I think a month after getting the phone the text pad (which was the major reason I'd chosen this particular model, so I could text conveniently!) went out. I exchanged my phone no less than three times via mail-- because of course you can't exchange a phone in store once 30 days have passed. Customer Service was abysmal throughout the process. In the end, *I* troubleshot the phone myself, and figured out whatever connection was being shorted or loosened or in general being interfered with that would deactivate the texting keyboard was situated just behind the SIM card. So when one would apply pressure to work the SIM card out of the phone, the connection would break (or, in some cases, repair itself! I am not an engineer, but I think it might have something to do with MAGIC). SO every time I would get a new phone model and switch out my SIM card... guess what would happen with the new phone? Yes, broken text pad. Seriously, how did THAT one get past the quality control testing??

So I eventually kept the fourth phone and figured out how to 'massage' it into performing properly for me. I developed a lot of techniques on how I slid open the text pad to keep it functioning, and whenever it would short out, I had a few different methods to restore power. But come on. Is it too much to pay money for a phone that, you know, just works?

In Arizona though, the text pad went out and stayed out for several days, in blatant defiance of all my tried-and-true massaging. This was really getting ridiculous, and my 'free' upgrade isn't availiable until the start of next year. What's a girl to do? Get an iPhone, apparently!

...Well, almost. A friend was kind enough to send me his old iPhone thinking we could just do a magic SIM card swap and use it sans data plan. We were of course thwarted by iTunes and AT&T (it's almost like they DON'T LIKE people using their products without paying! HUH.), but it was worth a shot, I suppose.

But!

I'd gone to the store to actually upgrade my mom's phone when the salesguy offered me a pretty nice deal on the iPhone. As is typical for me, I can't make decisions quickly so I turned him down initially-- and then ten minutes after I'd left I went back and asked if I could go in on the deal. It took probably 40 minutes of finagling*--with his boss standing over him the whole time muttering about how she needed to 'have a talk' with him when all was said and done-- but we got the thing ordered and the discounts were had.

I was forced into a data plan of course, but I tell you, this thing is nice. iPhones have been out for what, years? And I was definitely not keen on getting one at the time. You know, part of my strategy in deliberately avoiding brand new technology means when I do finally upgrade, they've worked the bugs out of it, added lots of new features... and it really seems like I'm walking into a whole new world of cybernetic comfort. You know the Law of Diminishing Returns? It's like that, only the opposite. I put off this purchase for so long that when it's finally made, I'm overwhelmed with enjoyment for much longer than normal.

It seems important to mention that I had, for about three days, been the owner of a new iPod Touch, the one my bro got for free when ordering his laptop. He'd already had one, so he gifted it to me kindly, and I enjoyed it-- and it too played a significant role in bringing me to upgrade to an iPhone. Essentially, an iPod Touch is an iPhone without the ability to make calls, so after three days of gleefully playing about on a Touch, I was more than ready to combine phone and 'pod into one master machine. I'd dubbed the 'touch Haptikos: Greek for 'pretaining to the sense of touch'. However, Haptikos now resides in my dad's possession, and likely he's being called something else, perhaps 'Dad's iPod Touch' or something similarly appropriate. He'll always be Haptikos to me, and our time was way too short. I think too he'll always look to me as his true owner, but he's chill and doesn't mind hangin' with my dad instead.

iPhone, however, is here to stay. Her name is Lacrima, Latin for 'tears'. She was purchased during a heavy period of them at home, during an era of them, and a lifetime of them. Not all tears that fall are those of pain, but many are-- and she's named not in despair but in hope. There will be a tearless morning someday, though perhaps not in this lifetime. And perhaps someday, though there will always be tears, there will come an iPhone I shall name Geloto.

*did you know there are like a million colloquial ways to spell 'finagle'? I had always seen it as 'phanagle' but apparently the Dictionary Powers that Be say its 'finagle'. Huh.

Current Tea: Black Forest
Current Project: Household Shenanigans

Cap and Cornerstone

2010-08-11T16:02:00.000-04:00

So in the past few days I took a break from writing the Massive Planned Story and put together a short story submission to Blizzard's 2010 creative writing contest. I was encouraged by a friend to look into it, and though initially I think I had waved him off, I was brainstorming over it all within 24 hours. Nothing like suggesting to a writer, 'Hey, why don't you write something? You know, with words, and maybe win something.' I like winning things, and it just so happens I know how to write with words.

But it's been an interesting experience because it's thrown me back into the realm of short composition ('short' being 7500~ words which is spilling over 14 pages. Now that is my kind of 'short'!), when I've been so geared toward this long multi-book project. It's an odd sort of coincidence that the other night while pawing through my shelves of old sketchbooks I found my Short Story Writing Portfolio (where 'short' means like, less than 2500 words oh the horror). There's something very enjoyable about writing short stories, in that they are little self-contained units. Anyone can ramble their way leisurely through a book! But it takes a certain amount of skill to compress big ideas into a few pages of work, a cohesive whole. Also, the creative process is much faster. I'm not saying it's better than my current books project, but it is a nice change for variety's sake. I am sure it's the accomplishment-driven mentality I have, to be able to hold a finished short story in my hands after about five days (added together over the past month or so) of solid work.

Another aspect that I'm struck by is the editing process. My drafts by nature come slowly written but fairly polished; and yet, they are of course, still drafts. I think I always get excited when I 'finish' the draft, and then promptly take the lowest emotional dip of the project's lifespan when I look at how not-ready for consumption the writing is. Of course, a day of editing fixes that, but still.

Writing is an art and a craft, and I take great joy in the intuitive rhythms of it, despite my struggles to conform it to a schedule for the sake of high production. One of these rhythms involves knowing when to walk away and let the material 'sit'. Like when I finish that draft; I closed the file and didn't look at it again for about a day to get away from the trees so that when I got back I could perhaps get a better view of the forest. And even now, as I finish up my major editing pass, I probably need to give it another day or so before I can go back and get a decent idea of how things are going. So much of editing involves microscopic attention to minute detail, it's easy to forget to take the magnifying lenses off and zoom out.

And yet, that is really the most important part of editing for me. When I write, I feel like I am building something. I usually start with 60-70% of the pieces pre-brainstormed, and I dump them in a pile. As I write, I'm slowly sorting them out, arranging them, connecting them together into something proper. The other 30-40% comes spontaneously, whether by finding what holes need to be filled, or else playing off other pre-formed pieces to make something better. Pieces get discarded all the time, and new ones take their place. And by the time the first draft is done, anywhere from 95-98% of the pieces are there and assembled. The editing happens as I tune up the structure; but the final pass on a piece of writing is when I snap the final piece into it all, the final overarching tension that pervades it all and holds everything together. The Capstone, builders refer to it as, the final stone laid in a structure that distributes weight and tension throughout the rest of the stones to not only keep the structure sound, but to provide an even more powerful synergetic strength to it all. Without this final capstone piece, a story is just a stream of words. There must be something greater holding it all together, a glorious balance build of tension and peace.

Call it a theme, call it a motif, call it whatever silly fancy academic word you want. To me, it's deeper than that, more primal, a force of energy that must imbue the writing. I can't explain to you that instant I see it all snap together before my eyes. Like metals resonating at the perfect frequency, magnets no longer fighting polarity, or what. There is a point where the story goes from random noises to song, and the positive and negative defy gravity in their perfect opposing tension.

This magical instant happens at different points in different forms of writing. It never happens in academic research papers, of course. It happens fairly quickly in the crafting of a short story. But this long 4-book series I am chipping away at? That moment hasn't happened... yet. A lengthy series of books is an astoundingly complex writing endeavor, and I get tangled up in all the layers on a daily basis. Small climaxes happen here and there, as arcs come together take on little lives of their own. But I know what I'm laying the earnest foundations for a truly earthquaking sort of snap-together moment. It won't happen for a long, long time yet. And I'm the only one that will really feel it. But that is one of the things that gets me up and to the library whenever I can, and encourages me when I face the overwhelming 'no one will want to read this' fears I have. Because ultimately, if nothing at all ever comes of my books... I will still have that glorious instant, when it all comes together thunderously, mightily.

That will be enough.

Current Tea: Peaches n' Cream
Current Project: finding some medicine for my headache, oh the sleep deprivation

My RAM hurts! Stuff Costs More! Bloggers use Swear Words

2010-08-05T12:57:00.000-04:00

The bearings came yesterday. I opened them up to find the fanciest presentation of skate bearings I have ever seen: they sat within a flat metal enclosure not unlike a cigar case, with the words 'Beyond ABEC' emblazoned quietly below the larger 'TWINCAM' logo. The bearings themselves were individually cradled in a bed of moulded plastic. I panicked a moment when I gingerly picked one up and turned it over, for it seemed like the bearings were missing their protective shielding on one side and lay exposed for the whole world to see their greasy shame. But upon closer inspection, I realized it was not the bearings at all, but a thin rubber seal fitted closely over the bearings themselves, and then remembered this was why they were ILQ-9 Pros and not Classics. The Classics, like most bearings, come with a metal shield on either side that is removed during cleaning and oiling. This is easier of course to manufacture, but means more dirt and grime can get into the bearings, both during skating and cleaning. A sealed rubber shield side though, which is irremovable, cuts down on the fine particulate exposure. The rubber shield also contributes to the bearings being more lightweight, which those of you who did not snooze though the previous post know is a good thing.

Faithful Readers probably at this point know more about skate bearings than they ever have cared to find out on their own for a lifetime. But you will look terribly knowledgeable if the topic comes up when you're having dinner with say the Queen of England or something. Perhaps she is terribly interested in skating but hasn't yet found the time among all her royal commitments to give it a try. Put in a good word for the sport when you next speak to her, will you?

...Though I do know from experience Great Britain is not the most skate-friendly collection of countries in the world. It's all that rainy weather and cobbled ancient pathways, perhaps.

Anyway, so I think I need get my Science on, and upgrade my skates in a series of three steps in order to isolate the possible variables contributing to the change in ride and decide which combination of gear is best for me. Because of the recent extensive repaving in the neighborhood, I really should go out and get the baseline skate and see how the feel of the road has changed. Then I ought to switch the new bearings in with the old skate wheels (which is just as well, since the Metroid Wheels haven't come yet and probably won't be here for another week, knowing UPS!). If I'm really crazy, I can put the old bearings in the new wheels when they come and try that scenario, followed by the final new-bearings-new-wheels set-up.

All these 'shoulds' and 'oughts' in that last paragraph awakens the rebel within me. Stupid Science, I do what I waaaaaant!!

All told, this upgrade endeavor has cost me about $80. The standard I judge all skating costs (without inflation included, stupid life-complicating math) is the price of my very first soft-boot pair of skates, my Camanos the Gray, $120 of non-discounted retail. My second pair, Camanos the Turquoise, cost only $40 because of the magic of eBay, and the Mod 8s cost $160 down from about $300. My next complete pair of skates will cost somewhere around $500, I am fairly sure. But that won't be for another two years or so.

I would never have dreamed of paying $500 for a pair of skates ten years ago when I brought home Camanos the Gray (God rest their little soulless chassises). Now, that price looks oddly reasonable. I mean, knowing how long skates last and how much use I get out of them, and comparing that with the price of the camera I wish I had the money to buy or the laptop I wish I could upgrade to. Someday, perhaps. For now, I shall be content without an expensive foray into amateur photography, and continue to take joy in my crotchety old-man laptop Compy, 6.5+ years old and still muttering angry nonsense while doddering around the interwebs with the best of them. "Kids these days," he grumbles as he shakes his life support power supply cord at the younger computers. "Back in my day we used ethernet cables to travel the internet, uphill both ways, through pop-up window storms with an USB 1.0 External Hard Drive on my back! None of this wireless voodoo, ain't natch'ral. An' don' get me started on dial-up modems!"

...You really shouldn't get him started. He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about, modems were before his time. But he has this antique modem port in his side, and so he thinks that makes him an expert. You can't really win an argument with him, he's older than you, so that automatically makes him right. You can't even tell him he's not older than you. He'll argue with you about that too. Crazy Ol' Man Compy.

Current Tea: Strawberry Green
Current Project: Writing

Not So Free Wheeling

2010-08-02T14:18:00.001-04:00

Last we spoke concerning my skates, I was getting all hung up on the bearings. Today the agony du jour is the wheels.

Faithful Readers recall the softness of the wheels being a great factor in making a ride comfortable, and how I have but recently discovered the ideal softness for me seems to be indoor hockey-type wheels (Quick recap: The softness of the wheels is called the Durometer, with 74a being at the very soft end and 85a being very hard). I bought what I firmly believe was the ideal set of wheels Way Back When, and now that they've been heavily worn down, I'm facing a terrible connundrum: how do you find wheels to replace the perfect set?

I currently have a set of 80mm (the size of the wheels, of course) 76a wheels. The skates originally came with 84mm 82a wheels. So it seems to me proper to simply find a decent 80mm 76a wheels; I have only rarely found 84mm wheels of that softness, and they all seem pretty ugly. Yes, the color is important.

But I've been stumbling about through some new skate-related knowledge and trying to apply it to my own skating abstractly (because I can't apply it practically unless I were to have like ten sets of different wheels and bearings at my disposal!). For one thing, I have learned that a skater's weight affects how the Durometer acts, and it is perhaps why I have needed particularly soft wheels. Wheels of the softness I am used have way more grip than speed, but the heavier the skater, the more that grip is lost; however, a lighter skater can get both grip and more speed out of them-- without the drawback of wearing the wheels down as quickly, because there is less weight pressing on them. I weigh a hefty 115 pounds, so my inital comment of 'Why the heck don't they sell softer wheels with the average fully assembled non-custom skate' has been answered with a very reasonable 'Because most skaters weigh more than you, Hun.'

This is fairly well connected with the next piece of information I've been considering, that of how making the skates and all their parts as light as possible contributes positively to the experience. No, I'm not skating any marathons or what right now. And I'm definitely not speed-racing or anything. But the more I skate, the more I value a lighter skate. I can completely understand why skaters want to lighten their foot load as much as possible, even if it's just by the mere ounces coming from changing their bearing type from 608 to 688. The more one feels the absence of weight on the foot, the more natural movement, maneuverability, and endurance come when skating.

I don't think at this point the time is right to pour money into my dream custom pair of skates, the ones with the lower cuff and the heat-molded foot glove, the ones that probably run in the neighborhood of $500 or so. And that's not counting buying a separate set of wheels and bearings to complete the package! I think perhaps that will be the next pair of skates I buy, but right now, I'm still very happy with the performance of my Mod 8s. I'm using this mentality to keep myself from buying the pro-rated bearings that are thirty dollars more than the basic set (which is still an upgrade for me). And really, with the way things are, best step up to the ideal slowly. Unlike a computer program where, if a setting is off, I can adjust instantly, these new bearings and wheels are something I can't just switch out for something else if they don't seem to work straight out. Not without spending more money, at any rate.

So back to the wheels, and the decision I'm trying to make with them. I have been circling, shark-like, two specific sets of wheels, one with the mini 688 bearings and one that fits regular 608 bearings, and today finally came down on the regular bearing wheels in order to buy some ILQ 9 bearings and test them out. Both are the identical 80mm 76a wheels, but just as I was getting ready to check out on my order I noticed the sneaky modifier HiLo in the descriptor of the wheels-- this means half the wheels are normal sized, and the other half are smaller, intended specifically to give hockey players added breaking and maneuverability response. This is not in the slightest what I want though! So I am back to scouring for a decent pair of replacement wheels, trying to decide based on prices and reviews (and by reviews I mean LACK THEREOF) what might be a suitable substitute. Then I stumbled on a pair of 80mm 74a wheels, which sort of blew my mind-- they get that soft?? And the problem now presents itself as 'Will that be too soft?' Ah, the agonizing. See, this is what's so frustrating about it, because it's all abstract reasoning. 'I am a light skater, so perhaps these wheels would be even better for me, or at the very least fine,' I say to myself. 'But what if they are too soft and I end up upsetting my perfect balance and lose a noticeable amount of speed?' And to find out, I need to pay a minimum of $30. I do love me expensive things, but I don't like taking risks with money, not even small amounts!

Also, the 74a wheels are this cool Metroid Red color. I hate to say this feature is swaying me more than it should.

But I need to get this taken care of NOW because I want my skates ready for when I head to Arizona. Also! The street paving in my neighborhood is complete, so I need to test all this brand new smooth black asphalt. It looks nice.

EDIT: I decided to give the 74a wheels a try, if for no other reason than to definitively know whether that would be too soft or not. I promised myself I could just switch my old wheels back in for the trip and be okay with it, and use the time to compare between them. Also, I WANT METROID SKATES.

ANOTHER EDIT: Amazon.com HAS BETRAYED ME. When I finally put the order in for the bearings from them (the cheapest I could find, at $41.25), I selected Super Saver Shipping (shipping in 5-9 days) as I am wont to do (Why pay all that extra money for fast shipping? I'll WAIT, thanks), they listed the estimated shipping date as August 25th-- OVER 3 WEEKS AWAY. Alright fine, I'll pay an extra $5.20 for standard. BUT WAIT!! When I change the shipping over, the estimated shipping date CHANGES BY ONE DAY. Amazon, that is unacceptable. Someone else will be getting my money for the bearings, kthnxbai.

SUPER AMAZING EXTRA EDIT: After further searching, I have found a set of ILQ-9 Pro bearings for only $5 more than the cheapest set of ILQ-9 Classic. Alright fine, I shall buy the better ones. If we are going to be that way about it.

Current Tea: China Rose
Current Project: Purchasing things

My Favorite Always Has Been Cookies and Cream

2010-07-29T16:17:00.000-04:00

I make a big deal about living without regret, and I do so not because I have no regret, but because I know if I don't focus on such a mantra, I will drown to all the regret in me I otherwise force myself to let go of, day in and day out.

I drove through an old neighborhood of mine yesterday, a house I lived in for six or so years, and then the surrounding well-traveled 'particle paths' of that era. In particular, I drove out the back exit of the neighborhood, down the road to where the Blockbuster was. My childhood has been defined by games more than even I care to admit, and one of those few 'pure and innocent' memories I carry with me from my childhood involves the semi-monthly trips to that Blue and Yellow store where my brothers and I would methodically work our way down the shelves of games until we'd played them all. There was a Baskin Robbins too, a few stores down, and the nights when we'd get both games and ice cream were like slices of heaven.

The Blockbuster is gone now. So is the Baskin Robbins.

I know, intellectually, such is the way of life, and that we can never go back. I will say though, some part of me grieved at this.

But it got me thinking about my life, and all the eras I'd lived through, and I realized, I regret who I once was. I look back with self-loathing at the person I was-- the selfish, manipulative, attention-whoring spoiled little brat, and just shake my head at my good memory. And then, the more I thought, the more I realized that it wasn't just one specific time period I had regret for... it was like, all of them.

Oh, except for the Games n' Ice Cream era.

I'd posted recently about not carrying guilt through the time-traveling wormhole, but I think it bears emphatic repeating: my method of rejecting my former selves based solely on the fact that I wouldn't make the same decisions were I in my current shoes is faulty. Considering the way I am going, I very well will look back at this current era with regret and guilt. When does that sort of thing stop? How about now, because I say so? Because mistakes, I'll remind myself over and again, are not an indication of beyond-help failure, just that of learning. Why is this so hard for me to accept? Why is it always an all-or-nothing thing with me? How many people have I let down in my life, and how many of those 'let downs' are simply haunting me because what I mean by 'let down' is 'lost their approval'?

There needs to be more this is where you are now living. Less regret-charged past-living, and less worry-steeped future-living. The Games and Ice Cream are happening right now, and you're missing it.

Current Tea: Green Tea Latte from Staaaaaaaarbucks you heard me
Current Project: Writing

Amazing Segues

2010-07-27T13:13:00.000-04:00

In case you were breathlessly hanging on the edge of your seat waiting for an update on my imminent skate purchases, I finally checked my wheels this morning to find their magic was characterized as 80mm 76a. And when I looked this up to purchase a new set, I further discovered these are universally deemed indoor hockey wheels.

This confounds me. Why do skate companies market 'outdoor', 'cross training', and 'fitness' skates with a hardness of 80a these days, when really all they would need to do to make the ride enjoyable AND an adequate workout is drop the hardness to 'indoor hockey' level? Perhaps people would want to skate more if the vast majority of skate wheels didn't make every bump pain and suffering!

Indoor? PLEASE. While you're at it, why not make some 84mm wheels at that softness? Y'know, as a personal favor to me. For being such a skate evangelist.

Insert your own clever and scintillating segue here.

I woke up at 9:56am today, which is AMAZING. I haven't seen that 9 on my clock when first opening my eyes in ages. And then I closed those eyes and didn't open them again until 11:23am. Faithful readers know I have a memory captivated by useless details, and one in particular is that I can always remember exactly what time I wake up. Or at least, what time I finally check the clock.

I was a bit put out with myself for being so tired, tired enough to not get up at a reasonable hour to go work. But I do remind myself over and again, the body stores a sleep debt from up to the last 2 weeks, so it might be related to the weekend shenanigans that involved an all-nighter. I personally think it is related slightly to that, but also greatly because yesterday I expended a lot of physical and mental energy. I ended up going to Target (I do not understand why Target is SO AMAZING) and buying an outdoor storage box for our patio, one I assembled and then filled with my various gardening supplies. I did a lot of other things about the house, like unclog a drain and get some chicken ready for grilling in the next few days. Then later on, during Warcraft raid (Monday is 10-man), we attempted some hard mode boss fights, which were challenging and exhausting. The dynamic of playing as a team with other live people versus playing a game solo on a console still blows my mind.

So the sudden need for extra sleep might have come from that. I don't know. I know throughout the month my sleep and eating needs fluctuate, which is an oddity I'm not sure I'll really get used to for another 30-odd years. You know, just in time for it all to stop.

Segue out of THAT one, I dare you!

So today I made a dose of what has been affectionately termed the Magic Tea, the high-quality green tea I purchased while in Japan at 4 ounces for 2500 yen ($25ish), the stuff that gets me through those long lonesome nights working on last-minute art, the substance that can send me into shaking fits if I don't regulate the intake of it carefully. Because I'll be honest, when I oversleep, I'm pretty out of it for the rest of the day, until the next night of sleep resets my system. And I didn't really want to spend the rest of the day out of it, I've got things to do.

Current Tea: Mae-cha is how the kanji read, which I guess is a highly potent form of Sencha green tea
Current Project: planning story arcs maybe?

Photo Genesis

2010-07-26T13:53:00.000-04:00

I should be writing, but I'm geeking out about cameras instead.

...'Geeking Out' is probably not the proper expression to describe my actions. It's more like... fantasizing, I guess. You see, photography and I have a weird relationship.

When I first went to Japan (way back when!), I took a li'l Point-n-Shoot Minolta camera (affectionately named Digi-C). I picked the camera that was the very smallest I could find but still was digital and had an LCD screen. I dropped it quite early on, and so for the better half of its life it functioned in a half-broken manner. I still have it, but it holds a charge for maybe ten minutes, and doesn't seem to like to charge. I often spend another ten minutes trying to perch it properly on the charger base before it'll grudgingly start sucking on electricity. So to start with, I haven't really had a great camera experience.

That's not to say I didn't take pictures. I took a ton of pictures... and have lost them all along the course of my existence. This has to do in great part with my various hard drive failures (ALSO due to dropping things, I am sensing a pattern!). It's somewhat demoralizing to have gone through the trouble to take the pictures, then lose them.

Of course, it must be pointed out that I would take hundreds of pictures, and then just plop them into my hard drive and let them sit. I wouldn't edit them (I didn't know how at the time!), and I wouldn't get rid of any. And see, I take pictures like a visual artist does and not a photographer: that is, I take reference photos. I don't shoot for composition, and I am not thinking about the shot being a finished art product in itself. I see a cool building and I say 'hey! I better take a picture of that, I might need to draw something like it later!' ...And before I know it, I have a million reference photos that aren't that attractive, all sitting and taking up space in my hard drive like it was going out of style.

In taking pictures like this, the activity of photography is quite dull. It's more like playing an odd Where's Waldo game with the world, a frantic recording of minute and disconnected details. It's not enjoying what I see, it's documenting them for 'possible' (read:NEVER) later use. Like going through a big book and photocopying pages with interesting words I find, in the event I might want to use those words later in my writing. I'm not reading the page at all in my efforts. Nor am I thinking about how I could be using my observant and artistic powers to reinterpret the page in a new and complete way via copying. I am just thinking about a far-off possibility, and essentially wasting my efforts. That's why I stopped taking pictures in the summer of 2007, post Italy trip. Truth be told, I stopped taking pictures about half-way through that trip, after fighting with my camera for battery life.

I've taken a few trips since then, with photography-loving friends, and I do adore watching them take pictures. And I explained to them (self-importantly, I might add!) why I no longer took pictures: because I 'missed' the experience of what I was seeing whenever I did. I hope I didn't sound dismissive and condescending when I did so. I fear I might have. I tried to compensate by emphasizing how much I did appreciate watching others photograph. I really do, I love watching artists work in general. Of course, it always makes me want to work too...

But now I'm starting to wonder if perhaps I would like photography better than I have considered in the past if I approached it differently. You know, with the taking of pictures not for reference, but for the sake of taking a full complete picture. Also, if I didn't have a half-broken camera that produced washed-out red-eyed things, with no sense of light balance.

I caution myself to be careful here. I have a tendency to throw myself into new things suddenly, run up against an obstacle, and then let myself stay derailed. There is little sense in purchasing an expensive camera with money I don't have to confound myself and then walk away from the craft yet again jaded. The voice of reason inside me, beleaguered and battered by all the other irrational voices I am in possession of, points out I should perhaps look for a camera that provides some basic manual controls to learn on, nothing uber-complicated. I don't precisely know what that would involve, but the advice is there just the same. Anyone have a good suggestion? I can't really even come down on a particular brand: one of my good photo phriends uses a Canon, another uses a Nikon, and a third uses a Panasonic Lumix. There's no real consensus by majority for me to rely on!

A great deal of this introspection has been touched off by my most recent trip anticipation, that of heading to Arizona for a week in August. I think I have grown a bit irritable with the thought of taking my traditional drawing materials, and so I've been considering another go at photography while I'm there. The Southwest conjures images of vast panoramics and color palettes impossible to fully duplicate with a normal set of colored pencils. I am not sure, but I am going to guess my hand drawing is going to fail miserably when it comes to reproducing the inspiring imagery I see on the trip.

Current Tea: Butter Truffles. Another free sample I got, another *alright* tea, another one I probably won't re-order.
Current Project: Some story planning, some organization, some fanciful entertaining of purchasing a camera.

Disjointed

2010-07-25T03:31:00.000-04:00

A few odds and ends here.

I believe the current book page count is at 283, and a total of 17 chapters. The second arc within the book has been completed, which poses to me an odd sort of circumstances: on paper, I have planned for another 2 arcs, both quite large, and yet in only 7 chapters I'll hit the length of the previous book. That's enough for one arc comfortably, but two? So I have been poking a bit at the plotline, trying to decide if I want that second arc to stay in the second book, move somewhere further ahead, or what. It's not a huge deal if Book 2 is longer than Book 1, really. It's a matter of flow, at this point. Where is the ideal breaking point between books? And does that second arc NEED to go where I have initially placed it, or can it move elsewhere to perhaps better the story as a whole?

But anyway, that's a big sigh of relief because now I am back completely to the proper chronological order. I have come to grips with the frequent need to step out of order and write, but I still like it when time is as it should be the best.

I learned this past week about something that, if you give me half a chance, I could write an entire post about: Love Languages. Apparently there are 6ish: Gifts, Acts of Service, Quality Time, Quantity Time, Touch, and Words. As in, these different ways people express and look for love. Apparently, one is frequently in possession of a primary and a secondary Love Language. Mine are Acts of Service and Words (In case you didn't know!); that is, what means the most to me is when someone does something in service to me, or says something meaningful, and the way I express love to others is through these same. This though, means that if I attempt to express love to a family member whose languages are instead, say, Quantity Time and Gifts, my Words and Acts of Service don't mean nearly as much to them. They simply don't read my actions as loving, and thus I feel more frustrated; likewise I don't read their actions towards me as loving. If a family member were to get frustrated with the state of affairs and loudly complain about how no one helps them and how 'it's always something', that would hurt me more because of what those Words mean. To that person though, Words not being a Love Language, they don't think twice in the heat of pain and frustration to throw them out. ...I'm just sayin'.

We had some intense wind here today, so much so that it blew all the vines of my watermelon plants in a bunch off to the side; imagine my surprise when I discovered not one but TWO growing watermelon, the size of golfballs already. I'd been watching the original found melon, which is still, strangely, the size of a blueberry. Also, the zucchini plant seems to have found the strength to finish out its fruit properly... at least, that's what it seems like it's made up its mind to do so far. The bush pickle plant is wrestling with powdery mildew, which may end up nuking its chances of succeeding for the rest of the season. This makes me sad, but I did notice at the farmer's market five minutes from my house they had some. So the pickling experiment might continue as planned anyway!

Also, at said farmer's market, I was definitely attempted to be picked up by one of the redneck vendors. PASSIVE SENTENCE POWER GO~

Current Tea: Oh! Also, I organized my tea collection today. I threw away some more tea, which again wrenched at my heart, despite it being of the subpar variety of which I shall never partake of. I then identified the tea I ought to devote myself to drinking in the immediate future-- say, tea samples of which I only have a serving or two left of. Whether the goal is to clean out containers to use for other varieties or just make room, it was a generally pleasant exercise... and I had forgotten how many types of tea I had! I tend to get into a 'favorites' cycle and pass back and forth between 5 or so varieties, but now I have reminded myself I have much more to choose from.

...So today's variety was Caramel Cherry Cheesecake. It doesn't particularly *taste* like it sounds, but it is alright. Alright enough to drink happily, and never order again.

Current Project: ?

Breaking News

2010-07-20T15:55:00.002-04:00

JUST BECAUSE I AM WORKING FROM HOME TODAY DOES NOT MEAN YOU GET TO INTERRUPT ME

Squander

2010-07-19T15:13:00.000-04:00

Fail work day.

I woke up at 9ish today, and I really should have gotten up. You know that means I didn't. I went back to sleep just 'cause I was comfortable and pleasantly still able to sleep, and woke up another sleep cycle later behind schedule. Really, I think a great part of it is how I've struggled so much for sleep in the past, when I recognize the ideal circumstances for getting back to sleep quickly and painlessly, I without second thoughts take advantage of them.

But I got up, and dragged myself to the library. Along the way I forgot to bring the letter I'm supposed to mail on behalf of my brother, and also forgot the empty prescription bottles I intended to drop off so I could have them when my work day came to an end. I was halfway to the library before realizing I'd forgotten these things, and so to turn around, retrieve them, and come back would have added easily a half an hour to my time. ...Not like I really did much in the library anyway. I read some previously written stuff, yawned a lot, and then spent some time being disgruntled about how much large-format scanners cost in comparison to standard-size. I did manage to write to a few people I haven't communicated with in months, so that counts for something constructive. I also looked at camera prices. A purchase of SOME sort of technology is imminent, though of what, I wonder.

But about four lines of writing got done, all told. I have to go finish running my errands, and I've got raid tonight. I still feel yawn-y and not altogether with it. Bleh. Try again tomorrow, I guess.

Current Tea: Blackberry
Current Project: Not feeling guilty for squandering my time

Guiltless Time Travel

2010-07-14T18:04:00.000-04:00

I was speaking to a friend at church this past Sunday, and she via anecdote expressed an elegant point about we as humans and our relationship with time. She was in the process of making some crucial decisions about a ministry she co-directs, and so in one sense she was approaching it very practically, by writing out a list of things she deemed best for said ministry. But then someone brought up a curious point: If we as people were to do the same, write out a list of goals and wants and desires for ourselves, which list are we to trust? The one we write when we are 10 years old? 15? 25? 50? These things change, and we learn as we go what we *wanted* may very well not have been what we *needed*. She is endeavoring to plan her best, but she is also working to be at peace with knowing the Lord sees more through time than we can possibly imagine, and knows exactly what we need whether we're 15 or 50. That's pretty amazing; I wouldn't trust my 15-year-old self to plan for me now, any more than I'd trust me right now to plan for my 50-year-old-self. It's enormously freeing too, to know that even though I'm bound to get things wrong and screw up, Someone who doesn't screw up is in charge of me at all ages.

I was thinking about this as I drove across town today to a Japanese market. Today, which was supposed to carry a small chunk of writing time, morphed into a massive day of errands. Due to a few of them being delayed, I ended up with time to buy a bottle of sake and a makeshift tea ceremony set, sans the ceremony. I think back on my time in Japan, and about how immature I was. How little I studied. How poorly I handled dealing with my host family. And how infatuated I was with silly things, when I could have culled so much more from my experience there. If I could go back and do it over, I'd do it so differently. But I can't, so under the bridge with the rest of the water it all goes!

But if I were writing a list of things about how I would want to interact with Japan today, I would I think put a great deal of effort into Tea Ceremony and Sake. Both are rich with tradition and complexity, and in them there is a beauty I didn't really appreciate when I was there before. Screw this manga stuff I flirted with; give me the caffeine and alcohol, all dressed up in pretty Japanese culture.

But I cannot go back and change things, and why would I want to? I am who I am because of what I did before. If I had been focused on tea and sake before, perhaps I would be ill-pleased with that now, and wish I had spent time on something else. So I've made up my mind to not regret the past simply because I wish it had given me more movie-like perfected memories. I don't get to go back and re-film scenes of my life, and there's no trip to the editing room.

I am sweetly excited about my new items for consumption though! The sake I really don't know about, and whether it will be any good, but it *is* from Japan and had the kanji for 'Demon' in its name, so that counts for something, right? The Matcha is the highest quality I could find in the store, and with a wide traditional tea bowl + wooden whisk, I can now make the truly traditional Japanese green tea. AND benefit from the unreasonable amount of caffeine contained therein!

I also purchased my $10 of chocolate for the month. Godiva has this thing where if you spend ten dollars a month, the next month you get a free piece of chocolate and a gift, which is usually another two pieces or so. Three free pieces a month! And really, if one is controlled, ten dollars is not a hard mark to hit. It amounts to about 5-6 pieces out of the case, so I walk away with 8-9 chocolates every month, happy. This goes back to the way I seek to strip regret out of my life, my Dessert Manifesto. I have made a deal with myself to never eat anything dessert-like if it is cheap or is not 100% ingredients I like. This means no storebought muffins, cookies, cakes, or doughnuts. No brownies. Nothing with peanut butter, nothing cream-filled or with icing. I will not eat anything for the sake of the mediocre sugar buzz, and I will not put anything dessertish in my mouth that my tastebuds will not kill for. Grocery-bakery chocolate cake? No. Flourless Chocolate Torte drizzled with Raspberry Sauce and garnished with fresh berries? YES. Box of premade giant chocolate chip muffins? No. Fresh-made Skillet Cookie with ice cream? YES. Twinkie, Hostess Cupcake, Tastycake, or Fig Newton? No. Made-from-scratch red velvet cupcakes, un-iced? YES. Yes, I have expensive, food-snobbish tastes. But by refusing every cheap filler alternative, when the real thing comes along, I will truly indulge in every sense of the overused-in-advertising word, and REGRET NOTHING.

It helps that I dislike icing, and cream-type garnishes in general. That eliminates A LOT of desserts, believe you me. I think Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Icing is one of the few things that trumps the no-icing rule I have. But it's gotta be like, Mom'n Pop Bakery good.

Anyway, so the monthly $10 to Godiva is allowed. Cheap chocolate and candy bars are not. Not a square of Hershey's passes these lips, not a single M n'M. No guilt, no regret. Delicious.

What else did I get? A journal and a cheap sketchbook. I scoured Barnes n' Noble today looking for journal-type books, and all I found were lined! There were some truly gorgeous ones bound in decorated leather... all lined. Maybe it is the artist in me bleeding over into the writer, but I prefer these journals lineless, the page blank. I have one such special one, bought on clearance, a gorgeous dyed cork-bound thing, where I write out frustrations and plans for my books. The only problem? I'm 2/3 of the way through it, with 2 1/3 books yet to write. I'm going to need to find its sequel soon... but sadly, today was not that day. The journal I DID get is lineless, and it was thankfully clearanced as well, but I intend it for other things. It isn't... it's not as epic as the current book-journal.

And finally, I was gifted a pot of mint from another friend from church. Apparently, this mint was started by her grandmother, passed on to her mother, and so on... and bits of it given to friends and family throughout the ages. I feel honored to have received a part of it! My 15-year-old self would never have guessed I would enjoy trying to keep a garden so much. I wonder whether my 50-year-old self is still gardening?

Current Tea: Oolong Shalimar
Current Project: Fajitas for dinner, with homemade tortillas

Bearing With me

2010-07-13T16:20:00.002-04:00

As men perhaps drool over sports cars, or motorcycles, or I don't know, any sort of fancy vehicle promising transportation, I fantasize about buying these. Actually, I fantasize about calling K2 up and paying them to fashion me the most amazing pair of skates in the world. Like a blade of legends, they would be crafted by immortal elves who have spent lifetimes smithing magic-infused skates, and mine would be the utter pinnacle of their efforts. And I'd save the world, or something with them. Yes.

There's nothing wrong with my fantastic Mod 8s I bought way back six years ago. Well, nothing except I really need to replace the bearings, and probably the wheels as well. They have all served faithfully over the years, but I'm a little nervous about going into the market for parts again. Haven't done it in awhile, and I gotta be straight up, I'm worried I might not find as great a set of wheels as I did when I found the current set. ...Though worry should not stand in the way of setting something right, here. Another worry for the record: how much is all this going to cost? I pirated the ABEC-7 bearings off the original Mod 8's wheels, which have performed quite well, but if I'm not going to upgrade the skate itself, I am quite interested in upgrading the bearings further. The thing about bearings is that most people argue there isn't a huge difference between the ABEC rating levels, and that to really notice a precision-based difference between them one would have to be skating at speeds impossible for a human to achieve (+100mph). However, my first 2 pairs of skates had like, ABEC-3 I think, and I noticed QUITE a spin difference when jumping up to ABEC-7. of course, there are other bearing aspects the ABEC rating system doesn't take into account: the steel used to make the bearings, whether there are five or six balls involved, the design of the shield, and so on. I am sort of considering looking at getting a set of ILQ-9 bearings, seeing as K2 has been slotting them into their top-of-the-line skates these days, and as bearing prices go, they don't seem that unreasonable; $50ish dollars for the set of 8, which is meant to last several years. Compared to the price of a skate... well, let's put it this way. Compared to the price of a skate *I* would be looking to upgrade to, fifty dollars is reasonable. I would of course prefer to purchase skates and not spend more than $150, but if I do I would likely be downgrading. Luckily, the Mod 8 boot and frame is holding up quite well, and I enjoy the design/feel of the boot, so I am under no pressure to get an entirely new skate.

The wheels make the other half of the purchase, which will likely be another $50 for a proper set of 8. I can't remember, I think I got a whopping 70a softness wheel the last time, which takes the streets like a dream coated in butter; my 84a wheels originally off the Mod 8s are lost somewhere, completely unused. For some reason, a high-speed boot + high-speed bearings + soft street wheels seems to be a concept yet to be grasped by skate designers. I don't really understand why. I don't even see 78a-rated wheels these days, mostly 80a's. The wheels themselves are not extremely worn down, but the Mod 8 has an extended frame made to fit 84mm wheels, so the fact that these wheels grow steadily smaller is becoming more apparent. I really ought to replace them before too much longer, or I'ma get some of that sweet titanium frame draggin' on the road.

Ah, but with all the rain we've been having, skating days have been few and far between, and even worse, THEY have ripped up the roads in my housing development (THEY I'm sure are the cruel tyrants bent on destroying the world we were sort of talking about earlier). They scraped up the sides of the road, presumably for repaving, and then posted signs: 'No Parking, Paving Emergency'. Well yes, of course it's an emergency! You guys ripped the pavement up! It was just fine before you did anything! Where shall I skate now?? And don't say the sidewalk. The person that tells a skater to skate on a sidewalk has never skated in his life.

Alright, I'm done geeking out about skates. I need to get back to my writing before I squander the rest of my Library time.

(Current Tea: Ting Tung Jade Oolong Superior
Current Project: Chapter D, Book 2. Technically this would be one of seventeen chapters in the second book. Faithful Readers will recall some gurgling about how there are two major arcs I've been working with and trying to intertwine, and then giving up on that. I haven't quite decided in what order these chapters will now go, but I'm numbering one set by numbers and the other by letters until I've gotten them both finished. THEN I can straighten it all out.

I Will Do Science To It

2010-07-05T14:19:00.002-04:00

Spending another day in the garden.

I went and got a soil tester today, one that can tell me the ph balance plus the Nitrogen, Phosphate, and Potash levels (what is Potash?!). I am growing increasingly concerned as to my zucchini and bush pickle plants' general inability to produce fruit that grows beyond 3cm or so (SECRET METRIC POWERS GO) before turning yellow-brown and shriveling. This happened last year to the zucchini, and I chalked it up to a bad plant and my inability to grow things. THIS year, with the same thing happening, I'm getting the urge to shift the blame. Mostly to my ignorance in growing things, but hey, that's fixable.

So in my research, I have narrowed down the problem to 4 possibilities.

-There isn't enough calcium in the soil.
-There isn't the right kind of nitrogen in the soil.
-There are not enough bees/butterflies pollenating.
-I am watering too much.

Obviously, ain't gonna be able to call the first two without applying some SCIENCE to the soil, hence the soil tester. At the moment, the ph levels next to the blueberry plants read at 7.0, which is awesome for humans and awful for blueberries. I presume the rest of the soil mirrors this, but the blueberry area is where this sort of thing really counts. Still waiting on the results of the NKP test, it takes like ten minutes or so. Hence the blog posting.

In other gardening news, I OVERWATER THINGS. Apparently, plants are like unto babies: they have only one method of calling for help. Babies scream and cry, plants brown and whither. But this cry for aid could be for any number of things: too little water, too much water, too little sun, to much sun, not enough nutrients, a dirty diaper... you know. My major mistake these past few weeks is assuming brown + withered = dry plant in need of water. This is not the case. I have killed at least seven plants in our new landscaping due to my watering zeal.

Part of it though, is our sprinkler system. Dad turned it on, and it went to enthusiastic work without telling me--which meant I was watering in addition to the sprinkler system. I even TURNED IT OFF, and someone (I am sure it was my dad worrying about the lawn) turned it back on. So while I was desperately trying to let things dry out, he's like, three steps behind me, going through that 'Plants need more water!' thought process. I was sighing over and over to myself as I took my soil samples just now, digging through sponge-like soil, full to bursting with too much water. This could seriously be the greater part of the problem. I did promise I would reprogram the sprinkler system so that it would water the lawn and not my garden, but apparently I didn't do that soon enough for someone's liking. THAT is going to involve a fairly laborous process of trial-and-error identifying watering zones, and telling it which zones to activate when.

But if we want to focus on some gardening positive and thankfulness, the weeds are well under control. Did you hear that? WE DO NOT HAVE A WEED PROBLEM THIS YEAR. I have been very good about spraying weeds, so things look rather nice, when they're not drowning.

I bought another basil plant while I bought my tester because it was some of the most healthy basil I'd ever seen, especially in comparison to the sickly basil I bought earlier. Yes, Sickly Basil has put up a good fight, and hasn't made too much a nuisance of himself, but he is Sickly, which means not producing much of a crop. Perhaps Healthy Basil will encourage him (or beat him up and take his lunch money). Also, bought another pretty ceramic pot. Such a weakness I have to pottery, I tell you. I'm trying to decide whether to put Healthy Basil in the new pot, or put him in with Sickly Basil and then find some kind of bee-attracting flower for the new pot in efforts to approach this lack of zucchini from many angles.

Finally, I bought some Ammonium Sulfate (more SCIENCE) for our hydrangeas. For those of you not in the gardening know, this is the stuff that turns them from pink to blue-- it's an acidifying agent (which seems odd to me, as my rudimentary Science tells me ammonium is a base... must have something to do with the sulfate part). I actually have a different acidifying agent to apply for the blueberries, one that is edible, though changing a soil's ph balance takes lots of time.

Finally after finally, I am in the market for patio furniture. I found some surprisingly comfortable stuff at Home Depot today, but while the cushions seemed pleasant, the frame seemed unreasonably light. So I'm trying to decide if that is desirable or not. I might take a trip to a few other places today to look at patio furniture options. The one thing I really liked was finding a comfy outdoor chair with an ottoman-- ideal for reading, drawing, or writing outside.

Current Tea: Blackberry
Current Project: Not Letting Plants Die

Light and Bubbly

2010-06-24T12:25:00.004-04:00

This I intend to be more a questioning post, sans heavy introspection. This will be... light, practical introspection. Diet Introspection, if you will.

I'm trying to figure out why I continue to spin my wheels on getting any sort of creative endeavors accomplished. I'm having an awful time sitting down and making myself work on anything, be it writing or art or whatever. My writing continues to limp along, but I'm down to like, half a page of added material every other day or so (which, yes, let's all agree this is better than nothing). I have been pretty successful at starting drawings, but after an hour or so on them I get frustrated and walk away. Or perhaps I have a good day with them, and put in four or so hours; but when I try to come back to them the next day, I am unable to reestablish connectivity.

There is a 'why bother?' element to the thought process I have to constantly duel, to start with. I'm not getting paid for it, it's not a class project due in a week, and even if I complete it, it will not likely move me forward toward any goal (that I can immediately ascertain). I am not interested in drawing something boring like an object, but objects are good practice but I hates them. Or I bought these books to practice my plant-life renderings, and have little interest in working on them. Or I should draw an environment or paint or something. I poke at myself and promise if I drive to the other side of town I'll buy myself some canvases and new paint (cf. the Great Paint Disappearance of 2008, where 90% of my amassed paint collection disappeared at the malevolent shipping hands of UPS). But then I think again, 'why bother?' ...because I know myself well enough to know buying new things, though enjoyable, doesn't solve the malaise problem. Likely I would buy the stuff and it would just sit, unused. Because what's the point of engaging in making art? We're getting too close here to the heavy introspection stuff.

Some of it is the nature of the environment itself. I've spoken many a time about my desire to create a space for my work that is not a corner of my mom's sewing room, and as well a place that is separate from my computer work. But I am rather limited in location choices about the house, due to my odd hours and the fact that other people like sleeping occasionally (which I understand). So *really* this relates back to not really having autonomy, not having space that is my own, that I can do as I like with and keep whatever hours I like at whatever volume I please. Some of it is making the all-important realization that I work better when seated with my feet up on a couch than in an office chair or, the horror, a back-less stool. Some of this is further complicated by being a small person with short legs. Chairs and tables are just made for people not of my stature. It makes it worse that my ideal position is one that 'hovers' over my work, and that is very hard to achieve with the height of most furniture in the world and my size.

(Just between you and me, I think I'd have much more success computing in general if I could figure a way to rig my computer to sit next to my recliner and get the monitor/keyboard on some sort of rolling extending table. I spend so much time in odd sitting positions. Honestly, my feet hate being on the floor, I do not know why.)

Of course, there are the interruptions. These have gone down a little, but you know, both parents sit in abject misery most of the time, and it's hard to get anything decently constructive done when I've got them moaning and groaning every five minutes. Not that I minimize their pain, but do you see the unpleasant side effect it has on those around them? What is the point of doing anything, really? It's all pain and suffering and blauh, creativity is pointless in the face of it all. Why bother making a pretty picture, it won't solve anything!

Really. What is the point? That's the question I come back to a lot when trying to galvanize some sort of creative activity out of myself. I want to draw and write, but feel I can't. Or shouldn't. Or that there's no real reason to. And so I sit, wanting to do something but not wanting to do it. And feeling pretty directionless in life. Friends keep asking me about what I would want to do as a 'career', and I can't give them an answer. Something besides this. But nothing appeals to me. That awful question again: What is the point of it all?

Stupid heavy introspection. I can't get away from it.

This though, logically, leads to two possible actions: don't do anything, or do something anyway.

I do wonder, is there a way to work my awful heavy introspection into some sort of immediate creative gratification? Is there some way I can encapsulate it visually? Without making my art look all emo-hipster?

That *could* be part of the problem. I have rabidly avoided art that gives the impression of emo-depression, on the grounds that I think most people 'play' at emo. They don't have a clue how awful things can get, nor do they see what they have to be thankful for. I have no interest in creating art that brings me down further. ...But then, if I cannot grab hold of art that will buoy me up... perhaps what I need to do instead is find the heavy stuff, and use it as something solid beneath me to climb out of the pit. Building up a staircase seems a bit more practical than grabbing at effervescent balloons.

Current Tea: Chocolate Mint Black
Current Project: Motivation

Chlorophyll Based

2010-06-18T14:09:00.003-04:00

In the spirit of reviving some of the blogging methods of old, I'm trying to bring shorter (far less introspective!) entries back.

We've been getting a lot of rain here this spring, so I was unprepared for a landscaper friend to drop by today and suggest that perhaps I water the garden. Of course, it was early enough I hadn't really gotten around to my daily attempt to do something plant-related, but I was still a bit... well, surprised. Perhaps THAT has been my problem then with earlier gardening attempts: my concept of just how much water plants need is well below the actual minimum.

So I watered today, which was a true zen experience if there ever is one. I turned the hose on and a refracted rainbow immediately sprang forth, hovering over my pleasant shower of water. It stayed there the whole time, an overseer of sorts, or else some kind of blessing, hanging over each plant I turned my attention to. There is quite a lot to water, especially with all the new things the landscapers just put in, so I probably spend half an hour just staring bemusedly at rainbow-crowned plants being artificially rained upon and letting my thoughts wander. My general thought during today's zen watering involved how little I really am in control over when raising plants. And yet, should I not therefore be more vigilant about the things I can control, like the water? For Extra Credit: apply this concept to life in general. Cite your sources properly.

There is already a harvest from the garden, which I feel confused about. Based on research and experience, I was under the impression that fruits and vegetables take time to cultivate, sometimes years before a proper harvest can be taken. But no, I walked inside with a handful of mixed berries (blue, straw, rasp)... and all these plants just went in last week. Of course, I suppose it depends on what stage the plant is in when it's taken from the greenhouse and placed in the field, but I was expecting not to have berries until next year at the earliest.

Speaking of plants that take concerted time and effort, my major focus this summer is actually the watermelon plants I bought. Watermelon? Hard to grow. I know this. It was a spur-of-the-moment purchase. Three of them for like, $1.69. I figure that's a good price for attempting to grow something hard I've never done before. As of right now, they all sit along the spectrum at perfectly spaced intervals: one is flourishing, one is so-so, and one looks ready to keel over any day. We shall see as the summer goes on.

Other than that, nothing fancy: two tomato plants of various sizes, a zucchini plant (I have the most amazing zucchini bread recipe, if you don't believe me bring me a fresh garden zucchini and I will craft you a loaf that will convert you), and a 'bush pickle' plant. Another spontaneous cheap purchase, one that intrigues me. Make my own pickles? Yes please, that sounds fun!

That just leaves the herbs: Basil (Oh Italian Basil. Why are you so annoying to grow? Why are you the best of all basils, and the most irritating at the same time?), Rosemary, Tarragon, and Parsley. The tarragon already looks a bit unhappy, and the basil seems to sneer at me in a disgruntled hipster fashion ('Green and healthy? Oh please, that was so last year'), but I suppose it is still a little early to count losses. Especially if my watering habits are slated to change.

In other brief news: my skate path has been freshly asphalted, which is good long-term, but makes me sad because that means no skating today. Well, unless I want to play in the street, which is ALWAYS more fun than the sidewalk, amirite? I've started a few drawings I've been cycling through trying to find the motivation to finish and wondering more why I lack the motivation. I haven't written since last Saturday, trying to find more motivation for that too. I must finish SOMETHING, that is my current goal.

Current Tea: Blackberry
Current Project: uh, actually, I think I need to get to the store for some groceries. Crazy bodily need for nourishment.

Bringing Back The Blogging

2010-06-17T15:31:00.002-04:00

Those of you keeping up with me on Facebook will note something surprisingly momentous: the original Oneirotsai livejournal blog is now gone. I have finally gotten around to finishing my back-up... don't quite know why, other than it truly seems to carry with it a journal feel. Like some cyberarcheologist is going to come across my carefully preserved written remains someday, and it will reveal much about this day and age to those thousands of years from now.

Livejournal's pathetic excuse of a back-up system was a lengthy navigation of menus, to which one would eventually find that A) The formatting didn't make sense, B) Comments were not preserved within the backup, and C))The journal could only be backed up one month at a time. I blogged from March 2005 to September 2008, which is 42 months-- a fair amount of months. Nothing seemed to work in my various attempts to use this service to procure a decent blog copy, so I went at it the old fashioned way: copying and pasting text into a word document. Yes, I ploughed my way through all 42 of those months, comments and all. I do feel compelled to scream something incomprehensible and make some sort of rude hand gesture at Livejournal for all they inflicted on me through the process-- Their methodical destroying of every aspect I loved about the service when I initially started has shown me they are so completely motivated by a deep-current desire to make money bubbling just underneath their faux film of 'online community'. They took away my autosave feature and gave me advertisements built into my journal page I could not control. They provided constant upgrades to paid and plus accounts, but steadily stripped free accounts of their benefits. Their formatting and organization remained poor, their search engine re-geared from helpful articles to unrelated forum threads, and they did not allow pictures stored within the blog. I'm still trying to figure out exactly why they felt a need to pour all their efforts into the 'livejournal community' instead of simply giving bloggers the tools they needed to blog. I felt like I had found this lovely library corner, and then as the years went by they kept taking my reference books away and replacing them with kegs of beer. All of a sudden, I looked up, and I'm in the middle of some underage drinking party, and when I protest 'isn't this the library?', I get looked at as if I were insane (and then charged some sort of cover).

Silly metaphor there at the end. But come now, would you, Faithful Reader, expect me to blog anything without some sort of metaphor?

So I've settled for now into Blogger for good at the moment, and am pretty pleased. Though I have noticed something! My posts have grown into long article-like things, and I seem to have lost the art of the short blurb. This particular entry might not change that, but I do wish to recapture some of that short sweet goodness of yore.

Also, I note new templates have become recently available-- I might be (as is my custom) changing the way things look around here. I do love me some new templates.

Current Tea: Oolong Shalimar
Current Project: Something besides playing WoW, I'M SERIOUS

The Goal Is Bliss

2010-06-15T12:55:00.006-04:00

I think the Good Lord gave me a great gift in introspection to save me a lot of money I would otherwise lose to the questionable help of psychiatrists. I can psycho-analyze myself to ridiculous extremes just fine, thank you very much.

My ex, an intelligent fellow who took great delight in the simple act of thinking, once commented on how such a gift is a blessing and a curse. I was a bit more bubbly and upbeat at that stage in life, so I didn't quite see what he was getting at. A nasty break-up and various sundry life-is-suffering-as-usual events later, and I understand what he meant. To have intelligence, strong inner monologue, and the ability to analyze can mean some really amazing thinking can get done. I can look at myself with a well-honed self awareness, and make very good guesses as to what in my emotional responses or thought processes might be causing problems or failures. I can formulate new and alternate methodologies when one doesn't seem to be working. I can grasp failure and success at a greater level than merely the outcome that they are. That's the blessing part. The curse part is that in all this, I have lost the innocent ignorant bliss that comes from not thinking.

I am not saying I wish I were stupid. That would be... stupid.

But in knowledge, ignorance falls. This usually is the desired outcome. But the phrase 'ignorance is bliss' really does mean something. Thinking can and does become a burden when done in excess. Especially because inevitably, walls are hit that no thought process can deconstruct into a tidy solution. Brief case in point: my constant desire for approval from people. I have banged my over-analyzing head against this aspect of myself so much over the years, and it seems I do it only more as the time goes on, not less. I can think my way through every aspect of it with masterful skill, but what then? It's like I have wandered onto a horrific battlefield, and I have gotten very good at taking pictures of the wounded and dying and dead. But other than that, I can't seem to do anything to prevent those dying from doing so, or stopping the fight, or what. I can just watch as day by day, I go back to take pictures, and my photography technique continues to ratchet up, and yet all I am doing is photoing death.

The solution (if we are analyzing this-- would you expect any less of me??) seems to be simply to stop going to the battlefield.

...Stop thinking, in other words. Not like, completely, let's not be Ridiculous Extremists here. But make an active choice, every time my feet start toward the battlefield, to go somewhere else. A few valleys over there's a nice meadow of flowers. Why not go over there and take some pictures? Even if, for the first twenty visits or so, all I can think of is what I might be missing over on the battlefield.

I've drawn a fairly elaborate metaphor here to try and explain what I wrestle with: the pensiveness of overanalysis and the inertia that builds the longer thoughts are dwelt upon. Thoughts are like paths, and every time we travel one it's worn deeper into our brains; to abruptly stop traveling a well-worn path is very hard and takes lots of vigilance. To wear a new path is hard, because there are weeds and rocks and things in the way. But in my analysis OF my analysis seems to indicate I need less analysis. ...You heard me.

Thing is, I have trained myself to Always Be Thinking. This is good I suppose in most circumstances, except here's the other part: I have trained myself to be always thinking about SOMETHING ELSE. I think this comes from being that annoyingly precocious child in school. I was the little brat who raised her hand for everything in elementary school, had no friends in middle school, and took all the honor classes in high school. I dashed off my homework the night before, crammed thirty minutes before tests, and did fine. I spent my classtime drawing instead of note-taking, and effectively taught my brain to absorb what was needed from the teacher and then focus on what fangirl anime character I was crafting. I taught myself to be bored with but one task, to need a second one with which to divide my attention, and when menial tasks were given I would direct my thoughts elsewhere. I am a master at amusing and entertaining myself, but here's the problem: I have somehow accidentally prevented myself from learning how to focus completely on one thing. I am so good at thinking of something other than my task at hand that when I am actually trying to do something I want to do, I can't. My brain, so strangely, runs off to find something else still.

Until very recently I considered this under-the-radar ADD. Now, with more analysis, I think it's actually collateral damage from being 'intelligent'. By being a smart person who never learned to properly control, direct, and apply my thoughts, I have caused myself some serious problems. I didn't get challenged until college, and so I walked into that level of education woefully unprepared. And even then, my instinctual response was to handle things the way I was used to-- multiple tasks, with imperfect absorption via each. I still would draw through my classes, and then I went to art school. I was expected to draw in class, and I promptly wanted to do something else. I think it's because ultimately, I trained myself to always be thinking elsewhere. I have spent so much time not wanting to do the things required of me throughout school (they were boring, silly, too easy, pointless, etc) that when it came time to do things I wanted to do, I was at a loss.

And so now I struggle with doing the things I want to do. Because my thought process paths are so worn to be off doing something separate from the hands and the eyes. Be that planning, worrying, over-focusing on the past, lamenting the future, or whatnotwhathaveyou, THIS is in great measure why I have trouble getting writing and drawing done.

I will say, there's some good to extract out of all this. A mind that's so used to wandering away from the immediate task at hand can often provide unintended inspiration. A brain that stays in one place doesn't tend to get as many surprising ideas that can in turn be incorporated into the story or art to make it better. But then again, there's a fine line between helpful inspiration and unhelpful distraction. And when something in life has predisposed the thoughts to negative processes (like, for example, ruminating entirely too long about a recent mistake, or over-deconstructing a conversation, or just plain worrying), nothing inspiring or task-related seems possible.

So. What is the conclusion? Perhaps not less thought, but rather much more controlled thought. Embarking on a long journey to cultivate the proper focus among my thoughts. To attempt, over and again, to not go back to the battlefield unless I take a stretcher and bandages instead of a camera. To quit obsessing over worries and flaws and mistakes and problems.

What is it about a well-constructed sentence that make all it sound so easy?

Current Tea: Strawberry Green
Current Project: Something creative, with my thoughts fenced in on it

Re: Wiring

2010-05-19T11:09:00.002-04:00

I've always known I love to accomplish things. Who doesn't? And I've talked here about the severe dangers of living only by achievements and accomplishments, the starting and finishing of things with little joy taken in the middle process. It has been a goal of mine (an accomplishment I am striving for, if you will!) to learn to take more joy and peace in the process and not necessarily the product. I can't cross this one off my to-do list yet. I've a long way to go it seems.

...But here's a big step I made recently, one that I think plays into my infamous ability to start something, get two thirds or so through it, and then leave it 'claiming' the process really isn't right for me. Did it with Japanese, did it with art, now doing it with writing. What is it that causes me to flee things I have professed a love for? It is not merely a starvation for accomplishment, it is the lack of what I see as meaningful accomplishment.

Let me put this another way. I have decided, in my head, how my accomplishments ought to proceed. Planned them out in my imagination. And when real life deviates too much from my idealistic fantasies, I start panicking.

This sort of horrid behavior seems so obvious now that I'm looking straight down the barrel of it, but if you can believe it I haven't ever noticed before I've been doing it. Yes, I love planning. And it's a huge strength for me in story-telling, because if one doesn't plan the story nothing good tends to result. Drawing is an excellent endeavor to use this skill too, because objects and people need planning and structure to make them look real. But see, my powers of planning start to break down when I lose control, as in the plan starts coming to life in a manifestation other than I intended. To put it another way, when things happen I don't quite intend, I am not happy.

As if I could plan the future out perfectly!

This explains so much about me. It's why I lack an incredible amount of spontaneity in my character. It's why I have trouble finishing things when they don't seem to be going exactly as I planned. It's why I have semi-frequent mid-life crises, because somewhere in all this I've picked up this addled notion that everything's got to line up to a plan, and not having one is bad. People fantasize about numerable things, but mine always involve beautiful plans for my future, immediate or long-term. I am an ardent believer that one of the main causes of depression in advanced society is this very tendency to plan out our futures based on the things we want, and when we realize unpleasantly how little control we have over the future when things don't go as planned, we depress. We are in mourning for our perfect plans, wounded, dying, dead. We have lost sight of how life involves so very little control, because advanced society gives the illusion that we are in control.

This is a sad and scary realization, but in identifying it, I feel I have won some sort of small victory in the fight against it already (and accomplished something!). In reminding myself how little control I have over things like how a drawing will turn out, how successful my books will be, whether my future will be bright or not, some control is somehow gained. When things don't go according to plan, I tend to freeze up and feel bad; but reminding myself things don't go according to plan can galvanize action. And really, this is where the true comfort of my Lord's perfect plan ought to come in. Trusting in Someone Else's Perfect Plan instead of my own is hard when I think my plans are better. But when my plans tank, His are still there, untankable. ...I'm not saying His are merely backup, though I think I've been treating them as such. On the contrary, His are the Primary Plans, and mine are merely fantasies about control. All the stuff about 'letting go' makes way more sense now.

The specific concrete application to all this is to remind myself when I get to the 'severing point' of a project, that point where I feel I must jettison it from my focus because things aren't going the way I intended, that such is a ridiculous action spawned by faulty motivations. In other words, just because a project you've poured a lot of effort into isn't working out exactly according to your vision does not negate it as a completely viable, perfectly acceptable thing to spend your time on and finish. Even if it won't jive with the future I've cooked up for it, it's still a good piece of creative work, if for no other reason than practice honing the craft (but often it is worth much more).

More broadly, it's time for me to stop shying away from finishing things simply because they're not going as I planned. Life itself is not going to go as I have planned, and I can't just bow out of that and start again whenever I feel like it. I'm certainly not going to be able to rewire my brain into utter easygoing spontaneity, but I can take steps in that direction, and learn not to freeze up/drop a project but rather to adapt and enjoy... wait for it... the process.

We have come back to my ultimate aim and goal, but from a direction I did not plan for in the slightest.

Current Tea: Black Forest
Current Project: Renewed efforts writing

Thinking About Thinking About Drawing About Thinking

2010-05-05T02:15:00.003-04:00

Some words on the psychology of art.

Why, I ask, is there never a class offered in art school that examines peoples' individual methods and madnesses on producing art? Not like, 'I use a brush', 'oh noes I use a nib pen' sort of thing. I'm talking about the basic decision-making process we go through when we create art, the one that's intensely personal and very instinctual despite all that has been artificially impressed into it. Because the more I deconstruct my own strange mix of emotional and intellectual subconscious series of decisions that leads me to the creation of something artistic, the more I realize if I'd done it sooner I'd be an infinitely better artist.

The whole 'close your shapes' mantra I keep berating myself with? Where does that come from? I mean, where does the necessity to need to chastise myself with those specific words come from? Is simply saying 'close your shapes' going to solve the problem? What is the problem. really?

The superficial problem is that I tend to ink (and draw in general) with a very 'ethereal' quality, where the lines imply generally what they're about and leave the rest up to the viewer to fill in. A lot is left to the bits of negative space scattered about my drawings, too much I think. My lines are not bold and aggressive; they are passive sorts of things. In drawing this way, there allows for a greater margin of error; the brain somehow automatically fills in a general 'proper' line within the space left empty, but in doing so the lines have given up their dominance. They must submit to the relative strength or weakness of the half-formed structure they have woven, which means the drawing as a whole seems indecisive and meek. ...But I can draw with less precision and it doesn't seem to hurt my drawings... too much.

But what is this feathery non-closed-shapes drawing pointing toward as a deeper disease? It's my surprisingly weak grasp of drawing as a depiction of volume, not shape.

Yes yes, we all hear or read about how drawing is the depiction of three dimensions on a two dimensional surface, but was I sick the day this simple statement was carried further into application? It was usually stuck up there right before a classic list of the elements, then the principles, of design. Line, shape, texture, value, color... balance, harmony, repetition, unity... and the true diamond of the first statement is buried again in the rough. Drawing is about volume. At least, mine is, but I haven't been treating it as such. I have approached drawing with the concept of depicting not form but rather a jumble of copied shapes that I have practiced placing in their proper places so they will assemble themselves in the viewer's mind as a proper image. These shapes are merely marks on the page. They are not substance, and in not understanding how to smelt it all together I have never had anything except a vague collection of unclosed shapes.

Close your shapes. What am I really trying to tell myself? Make it look better. But to simply connect the lines together, without understanding for what purpose, still results in a flat collection of marks, related to each other only loosely.

No amount of forcing me to draw still lifes will teach the psychology behind how to draw the objects. I will always be putting down a mess of marks, and not drawing. My pieces poorly reflect reality because no one ever expressed to me the idea of grasping the volume of what is being drawn at a conceptual level-- that no amount of technique or practiced method will do me any good if I don't recognize a cube for its mass and form. Yes, we are told to 'draw what you see, not what you know' when entering art school. But what good is this advice? To disregard what the brain knows does it a disservice. Objects must be known before they can be truly drawn. My still life classes taught me the humiliation of long hours spent trying to draw, and failing. I was taught to disregard all I knew about an object, and instead become a copyist. But my anatomy classes taught me to think of things from the inside out. I learned to build an object, not to gasp out a thin film of its surface.

Close your shapes. Incorrect. Plan your structure more comes a lot closer to what I've needed to hear. Closing shapes is a bandage that will be bled through by a poor drawing hemorrhaging undefined mass. The only way I've really been able to grasp this is by taking away the very things that form the shapes, and the very same thing that would be used to close the shapes: the lines.

In attempting to create drawings entirely with filled shapes of color, I have inadvertently revealed an extensive area of artistic malnutrition, a sort of fungal disease infesting my artistic methods. And it's not that I don't have a decent understanding of volume, either, it's my laziness in depicting it: without lines to hide behind, the vagueness permeating my work is revealed as stark nakedness. My art demands immediate, drastic revision to my methods: define the structure. Extensively. I am mistaking an 'organic creative process' and spontaneity with laziness in my work. I have been passive and powerless through this, too cowardly to take on the responsibility I have to each drawing to build it all properly. No, I am not a perfect artist. But I could be a lot more powerful if I were to give every drawing I create an aggressively strong structure.

Define your structure. Put yourself back in control of the drawing, instead of suffering at its mercy.

Imminent Card-Cutting

2010-04-29T15:02:00.004-04:00

I need to blow off some steam here.

So I get a call once every day or so from 'Private Caller No Number' on my cell phone. This is level 1 of annoyance-- telemarket calls to my cell phone? Unacceptable. Level 2 is that it's a recording. Layer 3 of annoyance, here's the message: "This is an important message from World Financial Network National Bank Victoria's Secret. Please call 1-800-Something-Or-Other for further information." *click*. What could it possibly be about? If I happen to not pick up the phone, I receive no voicemail. If I don't have a pen or an amazing memory handy, the message does not repeat so I can copy down the phone number (still don't know what it is, because the first five times I got the message I hung up upon recognizing that tell-tale pre-recorded fuzz and the singsong voice). And I don't want to call anyone to hear a message that apparently isn't important enough to tell me in this interruptive, annoying phone call. I can't even tell anyone to stop the calls unless I call the number, whatever it is. It's a nasty little phone call.

But after like a week of this, my suspicion was finally aroused and I trundled off to check out my Victoria's Secret card account balance. I have purchased one item from them in the past year, back in February I think, and I could have sworn I got a paper statement and the bill was paid. ...Apparently not, and I have amassed some fancy late charges. Urk.

Upon further investigation, my memory was proved faulty: no paper statement of any sort. I was essentially assessed a late fee without being issued a bill, because somewhere along the line they automatically changed my preferences to 'online billing only' and out of paper billing. And I am certain now if I had called whatever number I was being told to, I would have been told I could pay my bill right then-- of course, with the extra processing fee to do it over the phone. Oh, and did I mention the processing fee to pay online immediately? Otherwise I can wait until a day before the bill's due and who knows how long it will take to process payment!

I printed out a copy of the statement and mailed a check, hoping this is the one way around their nasty little system. I sent it priority with receipt confirmation, in case they claim they never got it. And as soon as my account balance is zero, I'm closing the account.

Yes, I am part of that wide demographic company credit cards like this prey upon. I have quite a few of them, and it's hard to keep track of which ones I use for which purchases. They make money off of late fees assessed due to unsavory practices, and I somehow think I'm saving money? Yes, I admit, I was suckered in. I mean, I don't overcharge, which I think my demographic somehow equates to safety in these situations. What can they get us on? We're good little consumers, not overcharging and paying the paper bills we get. I see now tactics are getting even more aggressive though, to snare those of us who don't spray money everywhere. Though I've made mistakes, I am not so foolish as to let them continue. These World Network cards will be the first to go, followed by anything else I have ever amassed an unreasonable late fee for. I see it all clearly now, especially with my recent ruminations on the cost of things beyond mere monetary value: these cards cost too much of my time and emotions AND my money to be worth the 10% off three things twice a year they offer. I am sick of this; back to one card I go, no matter how sweet the deal seems to be at any given time. My bank at least reliably sends me a paper bill every month with plenty of time to pay it. This online payment stuff may seem so convenient, but honestly unless I'm on top of checking every account every week (I'm not), I am at risk of hemorrhaging money. Convenience, seriously? BOLDFACED LIES. The more time I have to take to keep track of things, the less I'll remember to do it, and the more money they will make off my slip-ups. That's enough of that-- treat me poorly and you don't get any of the money at all!

I am sure most faithful readers know better than I when it comes to finances. What to do with my money has never been exactly a strong suit of mine, aside from the very straightforward efforts of 'make money, pay bills, do not overcharge'. I think the lie I've swallowed is that more can be done, and that with only a little extra effort I can save lots of money... when in fact it takes a lot of extra effort (even if one company really is telling the truth and it's only a little effort, multiply that across the board and all those little efforts add up to a much bigger pile of effort) and I end up losing money over it all. I'm going to retreat again to what I know is stable and reliable: one credit card, through my bank, with a point system (for plane tickets to travel, of course!). Make money, pay one bill, use the card (or the checking account) to pay all expenses. My money situation needs to be harshly simplified, not muddied with multiple cards from multiple sources to multiple stores each with their own quirky policies and odd hoops to jump through and sneaky ways of taking advantage of me. And I think my general lack of the more complex things that can be done with money (investing, stock marketing, etc) has given me the illusion that I have little control over monetary issues in general. That needs to change.

Sick Sense

2010-04-26T12:13:00.002-04:00

I have a few posts stacked up inside my head I've been meaning to get into digital ink, but I haven't really had much in the way of writing energy to execute them. I haven't been writing my book much either; really, it's been difficult to get creative work done with my parents and their health issues. This frustrates me.

But today I'd like to talk about the infamous Sense of Entitlement.

I have been thinking lately (some sort of nasty habit I've got, this thinking thing) and intensely about this mysterious Sense of Entitlement I've picked up from somewhere. I firmly believe, misplaced as it is, that I am entitled to a good life of health, wealth, and a few material possessions important to me, and that this family situation of struggle and pain is some sort of anomaly within the world. I keep waiting for that magical day when I'll leave it all behind, have what I want, and 'be happy'.

I'm indignant and disappointed with myself. I have always been one that has snorted and snickered at the idea of 'being happy' and the search for it. Joy, yes, that is another concept entirely, that has staying power within the storm of emotions where 'being happy' comes and goes. I strive every day to 'take joy' in little things, like trips to the grocery story (with at-best mixed results, if you care for the results). Or am I really striving to make myself feel happy in any manner I can? Am I basing the idea of 'being joyful' on the feeling of being happy? I seem to have tied my emotions into a little self-devouring knot, here.

So where does that sixth Sense of Entitlement come from? It's easy to pin it on 'society', so I guess we'll start there. My dear friend with speciality in Advertising may not appreciate my finger-pointing here, but I'm going to have to call out advertisements as a serious source of spreading the Entitlement disease. I base this on my hours spent clipping coupons, where I see ad after ad after picturesque ad of perfect families in their well-furnished houses all just brimming with happiness... because they're enjoying the product in question. Stepping back, it's all rather ridiculous, but somehow a link has been established between being a loving parent with a well-behaved adorable child and refridgerated cookie dough. Or what about amazing sex appeal with the ladieez connected with disposable razors? How about every snack company inviting consumers to 'indulge' and making that act of 'giving into immediate taste pleasure' something to be encouraged and proud of? I've said it before, if I 'indulged' every time I was urged to by a coupon ad, I would surely weight at least 200 pounds more than I do.

Okay, but aside from skewing our perception of a product here and there, what's the harm in these little isolated advertisements? The problem is, they're not isolated. They're everywhere-- on TV, billboards, mailers, newspapers, radio, the internet, on public sound-systems, on wrappers and packaging and just about everywhere really. One at a time, pff, who cares? The average human being probably understands the hole in logic that exists between connecting a utopian family dinner with margarine spread. But to see constantly different versions of that happy family in their well-furnished home with everything going their way (unless they were using a different, rival product but luckily switched and now their life is complete), everywhere, is going to gradually exert control over our subconscious mindset. We look at the hyperreality that is advertised as the proper reflection of reality, and we get depressed and upset when we look at true reality and things don't match up. I mean, I've only mentioned advertisements, but what about television shows and movies and games? Stories of a reality that never existed, populated with beautiful people and gorgeous sets and fantastic explosions. The more we expose ourselves to it, the more our thoughts dwell on it, and the more we start to subconsciously expect that sort of thing in our lives. You might scoff-- of course, I don't expect explosions in my life! But if you are single and want a relationship, how idealized have you pictured that unknown person? How often have you simply expected them to look/act a certain way, and deliver a certain level of happiness to you? When you think of the future, what do you imagine? Good things, like a lovely house and a good car and some fun hobbies and fun vacations and of course money to safely retire on, right? And then we get all indignant when we can't find a job, get sick, the car breaks down, and our investments turn to junk. Beyond the simple 'thinks aren't going my way this stinks', we get pissed and depressed to see how little real life matches up to our imagined one. We have somehow been fed the lie that we are entitled to a life of health and wealth, and if we don't get it, something's wrong. We're the victim, we've been screwed over. Life sucks. I deserve my good life, this is America!

It's easy to 'repent' of such thoughts in a heated moment of passionate hate for what media has done to foster this Sense of Entitlement, but how will we follow through when to turn around we see the same idealistic fake-reality presented to us from every possible quarter? I can say I will focus on what's real and not believe the lies that I deserve, by the very simple act of existing (and buying your product) a healthy wealthy happy life, but there's no way to truly isolate and cut off the relentless stimulation prodding me back to that Sense of Entitlement from everything around me. I don't watch television, that cuts down on some of it, and I don't listen to the radio. But I need to venture to public places with public sound systems I can't tune out, drive downs streets with signs and billboards, wander through airports with blaring televisions, surf an internet bursting at the seams with read-between-the-lines secret product promises. And then I have every other family in America to look at, the facade they put on to appear healthy and wealthy (because even we aren't, we must at least pretend we are, the illusion must be preserved!).

And yeah, it's downright depressing to bring our subconscious dark thoughts into the piercing light of true reality. To meditate on the truths of life being full of pain, sickness, poverty, abuse, imperfection, and unhappiness is beyond painful. Now wait, can't have more of that happiness thing I'm supposed to have? I mean, I'm entitled to it, after all! Whether through hard work or purchasing power or just being a warm body! Why does life have to suck so bad I can't have what I deserve-- perfect health, perfect family, perfect friends, perfect environment?

What do we deserve of all that, really? Who came along and guaranteed all that to us?

So what's the next step in this thought process? The one I've always taken is that of needing to try and find joy (read: somehow manufacture a emotional feeling of happiness out of my poor circumstances). Also, wallowing in guilt at wanting good things, I spend some time doing that. I should be happy with what I've got, because I'm not Entitled to anything! And the Sense of Entitlement strikes insidiously again, because now I feel I'm entitled to this perverted' happiness in poorer circumstances', and when I can't produce it, and I really wonder what went wrong.

The mindset that we deserve nothing without being drowned in paralyzing guilt, and then taking lasting joy in what we have been given, is still mostly eluding me. Mostly at this point because I think there are family members still in the throes of their crippling Sense of Entitlement, and I've moved on. Oh, but have I? Because I certainly spend a lot of time imagining how much better and glorious my life will be once I move out and on. That blasted Sense strikes again, making me feel like I've put in my time dealing with all this awful pain/suffering stuff, I am Entitled to a cushy good life at some point.

I fear I am setting myself up for some extreme disappointment. Not to mention some severe depression. And yet, the storyteller in me keeps thinking there's going to be a happily ever after much sooner than the resurrection. No, I'm not deserving or entitled to it. But I wants it, precious. Is it wrong to want happiness? No, I would argue! But wanting and expecting are two different things. Mostly in the sense of how we react when we don't get our way, when our Sense of Entitlement is offended.

Hey, 98 Percent, It's Good To Have You Back Again

2010-04-04T14:19:00.005-04:00

So I'm about 98% done with the current arc in Book 2 of Planned Story-- 10 chapters total in length and pretty heavy stuff, I'm glad to be done with it. ...Not like I'm not pleased with the work, but that was... well, one of the themes I dealt with was depression, and when one writes about depression, one finds oneself feeling more depressed, if one knows what one means.

But I say 98% not to be an anal sort about exactly how much is done down to percentage points, but rather to illustrate the more abstract point that I tend to reach this point on all projects, this magical 98%, and the best thing for me and the work is to go and work on something else. This goes against everything I have ever learned about working on projects! "Just get it done," my dad has quipped to me my whole life when I've left things sit at the 98% mark. "Just buckle down and finish it." And of course, in art school, where one often hits that 98% point about an hour before the class it's due in, and there's really no time to wander away from it before finishing. Parents, teachers, no one understands why I get down to the last 2% and walk away from something for awhile. What, REALLY, is the holdup? Isn't the finish line in sight? Can I not see the ending bearing down on me? Won't I feel SO much better if I just power through it and get it done?

Well, no.

I know this from both sides of the experience, the press-on-finish method and the walk-away-wait-a-bit route. Back to art school and those stupid all-nighters: every single piece I had to finish last-minute (which was MOST of them, I admit it) reached that 98% and something happened to my output. My skill level just dropped, and the work grew unreasonably sloppy. I tell you, the projects were usually more presentable at 98% than when I tacked the last two horrible percents on to try and hit 100. 'Git'er done' is an all well and good mindset I suppose, but I think with me it defeats the other well-executed 98%.

Then we have my positive experiences with letting the project breathe-- take for example the recent basement de-clutter. It's still not done, that blasted basement, but my most recent accomplishment is having finished the kitchenette space down there. It's all clean, everything's put away, and it looks lovely. But see, that kitchenette sat at 98% done for some 4 months, since November really. I had it almost done, but I couldn't find the time or motivation to really finish it out until a few weeks ago. That's the way I roll-- I get things mostly done, and I'll be back for it later... maybe. Because really, if that last 2% is a waste of time, I probably won't get back to it. Remember my words about time being a commodity? 98% is really nice and close to 100, and in most things in life, passes just fine. It's still an A now, isn't it?

Cleaning is of course different than creative works. Cleaning is a necessary, repetitive action that I am not fond of doing. I do as much as I feel I ought, and then leave the rest, writing it off as needing my time resources for other things. I do NOT want to get to the end of my life and realize how much was spent cleaning when I could have been doing other things. But my writing, though I engage in the activity over and again, the things I write are done once I get them written. I don't write the same thing over and over. These 4 books of Planned Story will eventually be finished, and will reach 100%. It's just a question of on what timetable, and what is best to keep the writing high-quality in getting there.

I write all this to say that at this point, I need to jump away from this 98% done arc for a little bit and write some other section. I know, it makes no sense to people like my dad, who even know I can hear him say in my head 'Why not just finish it? You'll feel so much better once you do, it won't be hanging over you.' He means well, he really does, but I recognize, now more consciously than ever before, how to force the last 2% out now would be to slop mediocre and uninteresting writing on the page just for the sake of saying 'I'm done'. I love checking things off and the rush of accomplishments with the best and worst of them, but something in me rebels from counting it until it's really done, and done well. This comforts me, that I would rather finish something out well than finish it in order to cross it off the list. Good 98% + Bad 2% still only equates to 98% in my head, no matter how I rework the equation. I never was very good at math.

I'm justifying my behavior, but not in the sense that I'm trying to win approval. This is rather my logical explanation fueling my motives for choosing to leave this arc at 98% and go work on another arc.

Because of course, I'm not going to walk away from the book. There's lots to write yet, and in particular I've got a smaller arc that must get written next before I can attempt the next big one. And of course, when I come back to that 98% after taking a break from it, I can usually throttle through that last 2% and straight into the next stuff quickly. There's something about ending things that makes me like beginning things, so perhaps it's very good to have the two activities so closely linked.

But now, I find myself back in the planning and detail-blocking stages. This is the part where little writing happens, but I've got to chart out the little steps as we plod from point A to B. This sort of makes me sad, because I was really making good progress on sitting and writing in the basement, 4ish pages a day. 233 pages written and 12 chapters in Book 2, by the way. ...But it's good, because this means I am progressing. This little arc has some strains of horror in it, and then the big arc coming... well, I think it's going to be real fun to write. ...Of course, I said that about this 98% arc, and I was so very wrong...

Current Tea: Dragonwell Green Tea

And There Are Raspberries in the Freezer Too

2010-03-20T16:32:00.004-04:00

Why does French cooking taste so good??

So I can't remember exactly which recipe it was that was my 'first' I cooked out of Julia Child's immortal Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Maybe the Amazing Potato Cake (Pommes Anna, in which 3 pounds of potatoes are sliced to the thinness of chips, layered in an overlapping fashion in a skillet full of butter, compressed into cake shape, and baked until the edges are crisp and the middle is soft. Amazing, I say!!). Followed by the Stuffed Leg of Lamb, and then the Authentic Flour-Based Giblet Gravy. And now, today, Stuffed Mushrooms. I tell you, I haven't cooked a thing out of this set of books that hasn't tasted less than mind-blowing.

Speaking of Julia Child, I have Julie & Julia borrowed from Netflix right now. I saw a preview for it maybe two weeks ago, and something struck me so about it-- I was emotionally low, oh so low, and in this movie ad I saw a glimmer of feel-good inspiration. Sadly, I couldn't watch it right then and there (I would have, I wanted to), but in a few days it came and I've been sort of waiting for an opportune time to watch. Thing is, I'm pretty emotionally stable right now! This is not a complaint.

The stuffed mushrooms are being prepared because I have the honor of bringing food for small group tomorrow night. The menu involves the mushrooms, Asparagus Salad, homemade Hummus + store-bought Pita Chips, li'l cocktail sausages, and Oreo Buckeyes. I realized at the last minute how similar the stuffed mushrooms and the buckeyes look in shape; if I had been thinking more clearly, I would have tried to make everything I prepared similar in shape. You know, themed and with artistic repetition to pull the creative 'piece' of the meal together. The idea came too late, but I've filed it away for the next time I am required to exhibit my cooking skills.

But in addition to all this, I'm also baking bread-- Italian for one, classic and well-loved by the family, but I'm also trying a new recipe, Whole Wheat Bread. This is in honor of a friend of mine recently put on a diet that involves no white bread (a tragedy and a travesty). Also, Blueberry Streusel cake was made, chicken was marinated for both fajitas and spiedies, and then spaghetti and meatballs are to be made tonight, along with salad. Yes, I do for some reason like to load up the day with cooking/baking when I can.

I don't understand this about myself. I love to devote large chunks of time to a single activity when I plan; this entire day of cooking being a good example. And yet, I know myself better than this, and I know how when it comes down to it i love to do a little of this and a little of that, and I get bored with doing one thing for so long (hence the blogging when I should be getting that Italian bread in the oven). But if I plan for a bunch of little things, I never get them done because I find it difficult to focus on each new thing quickly, and I seem to think I won't feel as accomplished as I would be if I did everything all at once. Of course, when I get into the zone, so much can get done... it just depends on whether or not the zone can be gotten into. I'm doing pretty well today, but I've got a lot to do yet, so I guess we'll see.

Current Tea: Drum Mountain White Cloud, tea grown by monks

The Next Interruption Shall Be Thy Last

2010-03-17T12:40:00.006-04:00

Here's something I get entirely too much enjoyment out of-- figuring out when a scammer is calling me. Thankfully, laws are being enacted which force solicitors to list their number and company name, so this game becomes much more playable. It goes like this: someone calls me. I look at the caller ID, and I don't pick up. Instead, I go to my sometimes-friend sometimes-nemesis The Internet, specifically to Who Calls Me and 800 Notes. You can usually get there just by typing in the number on the caller ID into a search engine, but I've found I gravitate to these two sites specifically. Either way, both sites list comments left by others on the receiving end of the same number. It's pleasantly easy to figure out from there whether the call is of the scam variety, or legitimate (but sometimes still unwanted-- even though I pay my student loans on time, I STILL get nasty calls about them. Mostly because THEY haven't processed the check yet.). ...Of course, this doesn't actually solve the problem of getting them to stop CALLING, because often they will try your number every day until you irritably swear your do-not-call-list vengeance.

This plays into another unpleasant form of currency I have noticed I find myself paying out, that of Interruptions. Some people roll with interruptions well; I do not. I am fairly sure it is a symptom of a creative mind-- most artists, writers, musicians, and so on I talk to out there profess the same desiring of 'finding a groove'. You know, when the magic is happening, creative juices are flowing, the muse is speaking, whatever cheesy euphemism you prefer, it's the utter focus and absorption of one's consciousness into the process of completing a task. With this fantastic heightened creative awareness comes the much steeper and more painful fall of an interruption-- flow is lost, groove is jumped, the muse disappears and the focus dissolves because someone doesn't think it amiss to call you with a prerecorded message about lowering your credit rates. To lose this flow is one of the most painful things to happen, and anyone who knows what I'm talking about will wholeheartedly agree with me. The rest of you will all wonder why we act so short and irritable when you come bothering us about sorting the recycling or asking us where the scissors are. 'Come on, you gotta stop letting these little things get to you,' they admonish patronizingly. Ah yes, thank-you for calling the loss of creative flow 'a little thing'! Seriously, how can it not bother you people?? Have you no concept of what your little interruption destroys?

Clearly not!

When I grow up, and have a paycheck and a place of residence and all that fancy stuff, here's what's going to happen: there will be a sign on my door warning solicitors away with dark promises involving the word 'prosecute'. No ringing of doorbells will happen-- in fact, I will not have a doorbell if I can help it. If I'm expecting a package or a person, there is some foreknowledge of the interruption and therefore permissible. There may be a camera installed even, just so I can see who's at my door without going to my door. ...I mean, if you really were dense enough to knock in order to sell me something despite all the warnings of retaliation. I do not want a new vacuum, do not want a subscription to The Watcher, don't want to buy any cheap candy for your baseball team, do not want to sign your petition, and whatever you want donations for, If I don't know you I can't help, because I have plenty of people I do know I already have plans to donate money toward.

I'll also have two phone lines. One will ALWAYS be set to silent. Sure, you can leave a voicemail. I'll check it regularly. But I will NEVER answer it. This will be the number that goes on official forms and personal information sheets. Then I'll have my real number, which my friends and family will know but no one else-- and the knowledge of this is a PRIVILEGE. If I find someone abusing my number by calling with lots of silly interruptions, I WILL block the calls, and send you straight to voicemail. But see, if you have that second active number, you probably are a Pretty Okay Dude who knows better than to call me just to let me know grapes are on sale at Kroger. Don't do that. I don't even like grapes all that much.

And don't even think about trying to sneak through all these defenses. Remember, I am a ninja, which means I am easily interrupted and a very light sleeper. You cannot sneak up on me. Ask anyone that's either lived with me or traveled with me and seen me attempt to sleep. I may put up a front that I am a heavy sleeper, but it only appears that way because I have been kept up all night hearing the spiders creeping on the ceiling three blocks away, and I'm trying desperately to fill some small fraction of my unreasonable sleep quota. The phone will not ring and the door will not be knocked on when I'm trying to sleep or create, but that does not mean I will not always be aware of my surroundings.

...Come to think of it, I sleep the way I create-- it takes time to cultivate focus, but when I'm 'in the groove', woe be it to any who dare wake me, for they shall feel the wrath of creativity-- and sleep-- denied.

Conversion Rate

2010-03-09T12:30:00.004-05:00

Time to see who the truly Faithful Readers are. How many of you came back to check things out here even after a two-month unannounced hiatus?

And do you really expect me to give you an idea of what was going on all that time?

So a few weeks ago I was suckered into signing up for a 30-day free trial with a credit report service (yes, I'm really doing this, going on without any further explanation as to my absence, just you watch me). I have always been skeptical of such services, and leery to provide them with the very information that is needed to steal my identity. But it was free, and I have been interested in finding out what my credit really looks like, because I certainly have no idea other than a vague 'it should be alright I've had no problems' mentality. The 'kit' (why do they always call it a kit? It was one little booklet with information and pictures of smiling people) came last Friday late, and when I was a good girl and tried to activate everything online, I met with failure. Come Monday, I spent three hours on the phone with them, and still ended up with no credit report. Today I cancelled the service (spending about half an hour on the phone), though I am still slightly skeptical about whether this all really happened or not. I will continue to check the sites until I can't log into my accounts anymore.

So, to recap, the service was free, but I paid 3.5 hours of my time and incurred a great deal of irritation over the whole thing. I'm sure there are numerous books written on the subject, but I have but recently hit on this concept that my time is a form of currency. I want nothing to do with services that cost me that much time, even if I'm not paying with ordinary money for it. Rebates, these are sort of reasonable, at least when we're talking about things like computers-- I spend fifteen minutes filling out paperwork, making copies, and addressing envelopes, and I get a hundred or so dollars back. Of course, SOME companies are making this rebate thing less easy-- my last AT&T rebate came in the form of two prepaid debit cards, which half the time didn't work at stores. It was like I had the money, but only in a warped sense, useful for the payment of goods and services only in a few restricted situations. I pay in frustration and inconvenience what I save monetarily. I'm not sure if I'm getting the good end of this bargain.

I have always been a skeptic when it comes to 'deals' and 'sales'. In my mind, there is always a catch. Nothing costs nothing, and so when I see advertisements, the 'game', if you wish to think of it that way, is figuring out how the amazing savings advertised aren't really savings but in fact another ploy to get me to spend money. I mean, you really have to look no further than the insidious little trick of advertising 'XX$ in savings!' ...Because remember, one has to spend money before one can save it, and if this is the case, no saving is going on at all. Money is still leaving your bank account, even if it is a smaller amount than it might have been. This is great if you need the item in question, paying less for a necessity is always a plus, but if the ad merely convinces one to make a purchase that wasn't necessary, well, who wins? The House. The House always wins.

And so this idea that I pay for things not only in money but also in time and emotions feeds into this. This is why I love my Apple computer. I pay close to 0$ of emotional money. It works, reliably, almost all the time, and when it doesn't it has a very good, logical reason why not. I don't think I've EVER called Apple for customer service. Now, I DO pay a certain amount of my time to work with it sometimes-- programs or fixes often are PC only, and so I must surf forums or learn a bit of programming to get to a solution, but the return on my time has been quite high. ...This is not an advertisement for mac, it's just an example. These are my reasons why I choose to use this computer, how I choose to 'spend' my resources. Because macs ARE more expensive than PCs, so I'm paying more there. But in my mind the trade-off of paying less time and emotion into my computer because it's not working for some reason and I have to call IT again is completely worth it.

Another example: my healthcare. A necessary expense, to be sure, and a nasty drain on all my resources. Insurance advertisements are the worst for me-- they make it sound so simple, so amazing, so easy, like there will be no further taxation on time and emotion if you just switch. Boldfaced Lies. I have to call my healthcare provider once every few months to deal with the latest 'discrepancy'. I have to stay on hold for long periods of time, explain my problem to three different people, and be completely familiar with my medical certificate to argue my case. And even then, I still have to pay more money than I was initially told. And at the end of it all, I've payed out way more emotion than I wanted to. They got me on all fronts, and yet somehow it's all necessary. No wonder everyone's up in arms about the healthcare proposals.

I'm a recovering procrastinator, and I think I always will be, but I am getting better. Recognition of this reality that I pay for things in time and emotions just as much as money is a big step toward ideal time management (perfection is an impossible standard, of course, but that's not to say we won't strive for it).

I paid for this post with half an hour of my time. Worth it? Hm.

Current Tea: Fine Ti Kuan Yin

Looking Back Moves Me Ahead

2010-01-19T13:59:00.003-05:00

So I've changed a few things with my routine lately. I've been really struggling with depression lately, and this overwhelming lack of desire to do anything. If you've never experienced it, you'd be surprised at how it hijacks even the best of your intentions and destroys them in the name of doing nothing. I'm endlessly frustrated over it all, because there's a part of me shrieking at the rest of me get something done you fool you're wasting time, and the rest of me sort of sluggishly bats this nagging part aside. See, I know it's a ridiculous mindset, and what must be done to combat it. And yet, the hopeless, uninterested-in-life feeling can really hit hard.

Usually my solution to this is a really heavy dose of gaming. Like, 3-5 days of doing nothing but play games. It usually wears out the hopelessness, somehow by engaging deliberately in a hopeless activity. I get sick of myself being so wasteful of my time sooner or later, and yet because I'm doing something I somehow find traction to get moving forward again, instead of staying stuck not wanting to do anything and not doing anything.

But see usually, I have an ending to a game to work toward, a milestone where I can reach and say to myself 'Okay, that's done'. With WoW, there is no such milestone, and so I think the traction I build up after a few days gets wasted on going back to a game where I can't necessarily hit a final milestone.

WoW is not all-consuming though. The moments I can pull out of it are more similar to the morning after a heavy night of drinking. I'll be minding my own business rotting my brain playing, and bam it will hit me how pointless it all is. If I've been particularly bad about self-regulation, it happens early enough to go and get something else done; if I've been good, these moments don't happen so often because I'm only playing a little bit.

Suffice it to say, I hit one of those moments last...Friday? The curious thing though, is that it was drawing that pulled me out of my funk ultimately. I started a facebook photoshop sketch journal, in part just to do something and in part to make yet another attempt at this digital painting thing. My desktop and my screensaver are all concept art sketches from the Metroid Prime series, and let me tell you, that stuff is wild. I wish I could draw in photoshop like that. ...I reckon I'll never get there unless I try to, though that's an intimidating standard to try and reach. Especially since there are other things occupying my time.

So I've done a lot of drawing this week, and I put the drawings up on facebook, and it gives me a warm fuzzy accomplishment-based rush. I denounce and decry my own extreme accomplishment-driven mindset, but I have realized, especially over this most recent bout of depression, nothing motivates me like getting a few things accomplished. Because of the drawing, I've gotten a little writing done too, which was the goal all along.

To try and accentuate my accomplishment addiction, as opposed to stifle it, I've gotten a little journal that I'm now tracking the day's achievements in. WoW has a list like this; it is a massive checklist that I never really have a prayer of checking off every item of. But I've taken a page out of this book to use to try and motivate myself, and now in addition to my to-do list I possess a have-done list. Somehow it helps me, to re-read what my time has gone into, what milestones have been reached, and that more is perhaps getting done than I realize.

Perhaps there will come a time in my life where I should very firmly put aside the have-done list, for pride and arrogance do threaten us always. But if I can use it as a weapon against depression-induced malaise, then give it to me, and let me keep it close.

Current Tea: Abundant Berry

Epic Fail

2010-01-13T13:25:00.002-05:00

I have this thing about shoes, and them being on my feet. I like them on my feet, that is where they belong. I must have shoes on to keep my feet at a reasonable, above-freezing temperature. I put my shoes on and I feel I can get the day's work done; no shoes and nothing on the to-do list happens. This sort of shoe-based productivity never jived well in Japan, since one takes one's shoes off almost everywhere indoors. My ideal interaction with my shoes is putting them on at the beginning of the day, when I get up, and taking them off at the end, when I go to sleep. They are companions and necessities. My someday-home will never be the type where I am harping on people to take their shoes off, don't walk on the carpet I just cleaned in here. Sure, you shouldn't track mud and snow in. But wear your otherwise more or less clean shoes anywhere if you like. Take them off if you wish, but I shall keep my friends close and my shoes on all the time.

Now that we've had our non-sequitur for the day, let's move on to deeper thoughts.

So another reason WoW, despite its highly addicting tendencies, is a good thing for me is because it forces me to face my failures and move on. Failure is a part of life all the time ever, and I cope with it poorly enough on my own let alone when it affects others. World of Warcraft puts me in a near constant position of interaction with fellow human beings, and it is such an intense expansive game that I frequently let others down. I don't mean to, I'm still learning, and lots of mistakes have to be made to get to a higher level of functionality. ...Really, all the same things I struggled with when learning a foreign language, or any other practice really. Criticism is hard to take, even when it's at its kindest, is it not? I suppose mis-placed criticism is shrug-off-able, but when I know I've failed and others let me have it, that's hard to deal with. And I know this may come as a surprise to you, but a great majority of people, in this world or Warcraft's, are not kind about their criticism.

I'll pause briefly for you to work through your shock.

Part of my problem with it all is that though I can be kind in my words, I really come down hard on people who make mistakes in my head. I have little patience for a job not well done, which is irking enough if someone else is doing the job, but nearly unbearable if I'm the one perpetrating the poor job. You see, we fear what we hate, and the more we judge others the harder we take the judging-- because we are judging ourselves along with other people, a kind of two-for-one deal. I fear failing, but I do it, and with a fair amount of frequency. It drives me out of my mind to fail as much as I do. I look around and see others not failing (or at least appearing not to) and I can't make the equations balance. Just about all the time I don't want to fail. Why therefore do I continue to do it? And the most unhelpful thing anyone can say to me is 'just don't do it'. Believe you me, that was Plan A, and I don't know what happened that Plan B (Step One: Fail! Step Two: Repeat as necessary!) got implemented instead.

If you are in any way familiar with this problem, you will know how hard I find it to forgive myself, and others, when they let me down. I don't know what it is about the whole ruminating-on-failure thing, it seems unpleasant enough to do, and yet I can't stop. How many times do you suppose I have thought about last night's failure (aha, you knew there was some impetus to this post, some failure this all must have stemmed from!) today? Somewhere between Too Many and Way Too Many times (were variable x is defined as the number of times I have thought about this past failure, and where x>1, the equation f(x) becomes unsolvable). I have to tell myself every time that I need to cease thinking about it all, that's it's been and done and no amount of intense brooding over it all will change the events of the past. I need to force my thoughts, herd them like sheep, to other pastures of the mind, because my thoughts are stupid and seem to prefer depressing concepts like 'I will let everyone down', 'there is no hope for me', and 'everyone hates me'. ...That last one is intimately tied into my approval addiction, which only complicates and compounds my fears of failure. One of the reasons I fear failure so much is that I fear withdrawal of approval. Because let's face it, in this sort of society, people like those who don't fail. I have lost a lot because of my failures, none of which I ever meant. It seems a cruel practice, that a well-meaning individual such as myself must be torn to shreds and left out in the cold because I have some social anxiety, which tends to make me nervous when I need to perform in a pressure situation, and which inevitable leads to, yes, we all know it, failure.

So the question is, do I avoid activities that I fail at, or do I keep trying at them? I guess there's no easy answer, but it seems to me sometimes that my avoidance philosophy is a bit over the edge. I mean, honestly, it's difficult for me to deal with most social situations. I'm great one-on-one, but in a group I tend to freeze. I want peoples' attention and approval, and yet I am scared of doing anything for fear of screwing up. It's an unpleasant place to be, double- and triple-checking my every thought and action, and often I can't keep up with it all (which means more failure, can't ever escape it!). Also, I get really tired of the amount of time it seems to take to outlive a personal failure, and even now I am still haunted by a crowd of them. I have a lovely memory, and I'm very appreciative of it, but I can't get over how it tends to file away the most unpleasant of things to rehash and remember, and it forgets practical, important information (that would have kept me from making the mistake in the first place). I know several people who have poor memories, and they have expressed great happiness at their ability to forget their failures, and those of others.

So what is the solution? The best I can figure, playing shepherd to this unpleasant-memory-gravitating thoughts. Reminding myself to forgive myself, and that even if I don't have the approval or forgiveness of other people, it doesn't matter. That people can be harsh, and it's gotta get shrugged off. That I can't live consumed by the perfectly preserved memories of failures, because that would be a depressing waste of a life indeed.

...I do hope I am correct, and pushing myself to continue to interact in WoW will in some measure help me face this problem of failure I seem to have.

Current Tea: Raspberry

Re-Specing My Priorities

2009-12-27T12:35:00.003-05:00

Has it really been that long?

As I perhaps feared, World of Warcraft is usurping my time and attention. The completionist in me has sincere trouble leaving a good game until it is completed in its entirety, and WoW is just a bit too big to chew and swallow in a short amount of time. On the upside, the money I have spent on buying the game (and bit by bit adding on accessories to Minion) seems justified due to the extremely long playtime value. On the downside, my writing has taken a serious kick to the curb.

I intend to change that.

I've had my fun, if you call playing too long every day, losing sleep from staying up too late, and feeling guilty almost the entire time about how I ought to be writing 'fun' (I know I do!). I still really like to play, I'm not going to shy away from that truth. But it's time WoW was put in its place on the priority totem (see, it's funny because my main is a shaman), that is, below the writing and the sleeping.

I think the game is still a good experience for a few reasons: it's teaching me some interesting group dynamics that I haven't participated much in due to my extreme dislike of organized sports growing up. There is a really fascinating dimension that MMORGs have that I really had little interest in exploring for years; I figured I could guess out all the salient aspects of them based on a sketch of the concept and then listening to what others had to say about it. I think I was mostly right in my assumptions, but experiencing it all is still interesting. It provides me with more live human contact than I otherwise really get being home, and it keeps my brain busy observing the curious dynamics of human society. I am sure I would never have started playing if it weren't for several friends at church-- to play means chillin' with friends now, as opposed to venturing out into a stranger-filled game.

In case anyone cares, I play an Enhancement Shaman right now (with a secondary spec in Restoration). It's a really versatile class, which suits me I think, and though I was warned that a 'hybrid' class was harder to start out on than a simple spellcaster or attack class, I think it enabled me to grasp more game dynamics and aspects right away. The first few bites of it all were so big I was choking on them, but with the constant help of my friends I have managed to get through the really embarrassing newbie stages quickly. Of course, the problem with playing a hybrid class is the classic jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none dilemma: I'm pretty good at a lot of things, but I'm not awesome at any one thing. My preference right now is to DPS (stands for Damage Per Second, which has become slang for 'attacker' or 'whack-until-dead' specialization), but DPSers are a dime a dozen. Healers are in much higher demand, as well as Tanks (tanks being people in charge of getting enemies' attention, keeping it from attacking anyone else, and then just sit and take damage while the Healers heal and the DPSers attack), so I am looking into other characters who I can work on these roles with. Healing I fear will require a serious change in my interface setup, so I'm not quite ready for that, but I have time: my priest is only at level 14 (out of 80). As for tanking, I would like to get into it more, but it's the hardest of jobs to learn, not to mention the one that carries the most responsibility. To this end I have two tanking characters started, a Paladin (another hybrid class, but one that's much harder to level than a Shaman) and a Death Knight (death knights are easier to start because the begin life at level 55). The other issue with tanking is that the best gear tends to be acquired only through PvP (Player versus Player), and that's a huge aspect of the game I haven't even gotten around to thinking about much yet.

I also have a Hunter character, which would be considered an 'off-tank', someone to help manage enemies while a main tank does brunt of the work. The Hunter is enjoyable because one acquires pets, which is almost like having two characters instead of one. Finally I've got a Rogue, another off-tank-type, but usually a classic DPS. This means I have six characters total, and let me tell you, the game is huge enough with one character. Still, in putting the effort into six, this means I'll have 12 different professions at my disposal, which creates a kind of mini-economy for myself. People complain about working the professions up, but honestly that's one of my favorite parts. Keep the killing enemies part; I love treasure-hunting, gathering, and building professional skills. Also, top-skilled professionals make money, and that's important.

All this though to say that I realize I need to be more careful about where my time is going. I was doing so well with my writing for the first half of this year, and that totally fell of this past, second half. Granted that blasted commission started it (which I never got paid for by the way-- the client never sent payment so she won't get her documents of course, but to not be recompensed for my time is a bit stinging!), but WoW for the past three months compounded it. Thankfully I can say I've gotten about 8 chapters, 150-some pages written of book two while all this went down, but that's only a third of what I was able to put out earlier in the same amount of time.

A bright spot in all this is the addition of Monnie, my new 23" monitor display (23"!! I feel faint!) to the Computer Colony this Christmas. He is huge, with even higher resolution, and his screen performs wonderfully in bright light. This means writing can easily occur during the day now, down in the main office. Other Christmas highlights include awesome clearance clothes, tea (of course!!), a Korean cookbook, and chocolate. It's been a lovely Christmas here, full (perhaps too full) of good food and family. The best part too is that I don't have to cook for the next few days. I can for a little while devote all my energies to writing, and not playing WoW until I've accomplished my daily goal of 4 pages.

Current Tea: Oolong Shalimar
Current Project: Writing 4 pages

Chess and Cleaning

2009-11-23T14:04:00.003-05:00

I have taken back the loft.

So last time here, I posted about my ruminations on work in relation to my location about the house, and how there wasn't really any easy solution to where to move to in order to maximize my general output. Well, I made a decision, and that was not to move to the loft so much as set up a satellite office there.

The loft has long been a source of contention for me at home. When I first arrived last year, it was a Mess, and I mean that in all the weight the capitalization bestows. I have over the course of my sojourn here cleaned the loft about three times, and every time thrown away copious amounts of junk. Most of it my youngest bro's. And it seems still that no matter how many times I clean it all up, his stuff continues to come and invade, particularly whenever we ask him to clean his room. It's like he moves the stuff back and forth between his room, the loft, and the basement, without really dealing with any of it. I on the other hand deal with things, and I've cleaned the loft about three times too many at this point. And I think I've come up with a solution to both my work-related struggles and this brother-related spreading mess: I will set up shop in the loft in addition to the sunroom. I will in effect replace his mess with my own; if this were a chess game, I am using my pieces to steadily block him into a smaller and smaller space on the board.

To this effect, Compy The Undying has come to live in the loft. He found a set of speakers as he was settling in (JUST FOUND THEM. Perhaps my bro will stop pirating our stuff if I start pirating his), and is using my old mouse from the Days of Desky-- It's a lovely mouse in perfect working condition (I was gifted a Razer Death Adder gaming mouse for Minion, so Mighty Mouse has been out of work since then). Even the trackpad seems to work at the moment, though that could change at any time. It's funny to be back on Compy yet again, because I notice different things about him each time: this time it's his lovely pixel resolution, which somehow seems so much bigger and roomier despite being about the same 12" size as CinnTeak (her width is longer though, so the stretching and squashing of the screen works differently between them). Also, it's awesome to be able to SEE my computer screen brightly.

...So I think this is where writing will occur for awhile, whether on Compy or on the couch here in the loft and then transcribed into the computer later. I will reserve Warcraft for Minion downstairs, and other art-related activities that will benefit from the sunlight. I would very much like to get a new monitor for downstairs for Christmas, something nice and big, but I guess we'll have to watch prices on it all. The chess game metaphor comes back to me often: I feel I have made a powerful, aggressive, and generally good move in this game.

If we want to speak further on house cleaning and organization, I would like to check off Mom's Desk in the kitchen as Completely Done--this is a major success, because it completes the kitchen restoration and reorganization project. The loft is more or less reclaimed so it can go on the list too. The dining room doesn't look bad, though honestly I need some way to store several serving dishes we have and the basement's about full up. Speaking of the basement, that's still creeping toward total organization, slowly but surely. Honestly most of what I'm doing is shuffling boxes around until I have time to do another electronic recycling run and then a book-selling one. I have games and musical instruments to sell (though I think I've missed the boat this year on the ideal time to go and sell my Oboe, I should have tried back in September when kids start taking band), and then beyond that it's just boxes of family pictures that need to be sorted and album-ized. THAT is not a project I am looking forward to, not at all-- more than just the sheer physical size of it, there is emotional baggage in it all that I am not keen on dealing with. So I don't know, those boxes may be there for awhile yet, but at least they're all in one place.

So this house is getting better. The next big project to go through will probably be the garage, but I bet that won't happen 'til spring (and I'm okay with that). Mom's room and her accumulated junk needs attention too. My sunroom, surprisingly, makes the list next-- there's just so much stuff crammed in there, what with my office and then mom's sewing. It actually might do me well to move large amounts of my office stuff up here to the loft. Also, I need to organize a 'drop off' sort of location, a place I can store the accumulating goodwill donations, electronic recycling, other various articles to be sold, and large trash items, all in order. This I think will contribute further to the general organization of the house, mostly to keep it that way and to prevent Clutter Creep.

So guests come tomorrow and Thanksgiving will run for the rest of the week, so I don't know when I'll be able to write next, but doing all this major cleaning now actually is kind of reassuring, It feels like the more I do the more I gain control over the house, and so I don't feel so overwhelmed when I think about my younger older bro coming home next month with his girlfriend. Steadily steadily, this house is salvaged and reclaimed, one room at a time.

How I Mine For Words?

2009-11-14T13:02:00.003-05:00

I think Minion and CinnTeak have quite accidentally made it more difficult for me to write. Minion is involved only in the sense of his namesake, as an accomplice if you will, enabling Miss CinnTeak to perpetrate the crime, though honestly she does not have the malicious heart of a criminal. It's more an accidental crime, but one that I think I've identified as a major obstacle to getting writing accomplished in the volume I'm used to.

Desky, God rest his soulless silicon body, had a lovely display. It was like 17", I think, with good calibration and held up well under direct sunlight. It's probably still perfectly useable, if I could figure out a way to somehow safely amputate it from its brainless body and graft it into Minion, but therein lays the critical flaw of designing a monitor and a computer as a single unit-- when one goes, the other is dragged down too. ...Though I may do research on parasitizing the monitor somehow, that sounds almost possible.

But now I am working primarily with Miss CinnTeak, who has a 12" display. It's a lovely display as well, but in a different, digitably drawable sense. She doesn't do well in bright natural light, and so it's been harder during the day with my headquarters set up in a sunroom to see what I'm doing, and by extension get some work done. On the upside, this is a practical way to keep me from playing World of Warcraft, since I can't see what I'm doing in the daytime. However, I do notice there are ill-lit areas of the game that I have trouble viewing on CinnTeak, areas that I checked on a friend's monitor and have verified it's CinnTeak's problem, not mine.

The heat's becoming a problem too. It's a sunroom, which means it's warmer than the rest of the house, even in the winter. There are about 10 days out of the year where it seems colder, but every other day all that natural sunlight I love heats it up to several degrees higher than the rest of the house, and it's even worse when I close the door for peace and quiet. It's rather frustrating to have to dress warmly to face winter weather everywhere else in the world but dress for summer in my headquarters. Even with the fan going, it's barely tolerable by the middle of the day, and warm computer equipment only adds to the problem.

I've been toying with the idea of moving my headquarters, but this begs the question 'To where?'. We have a loft set up for a computer hub, but it is an open sort of place, with no door to close when I don't want to hear the football game going on or else not bother those sleeping on the same floor (Raiding in WoW will bother those sleeping. I know this from being a bothered person when my younger bro played.). This makes me sad since otherwise it's a nice solution with good natural light but in carefully dosed quantities, so I won't feel like I'm in a cave. That feeling is very important to me, Faithful Readers. I do not like feeling like I am in a cave. I got enough of that during College, both in dorm rooms and then working in school labs (*cough* Monty *cough*).

My room is also set up to receive a computer command center, but this violates my rule of keeping the bedroom and the workroom separate. As soon as I got out of single-room dorms, I made it my goal to keep all non-sleep-related activities occurring in other rooms; psychologically, to work and sleep in the same room confuses the body. It takes some time even after the environment is conformed to this rule for its benefits to take effect, but I do think there is substance to the claim that the body takes subconscious cues from its surroundings based on past experiences. If all one does in a bedroom is sleep, the body will naturally tend toward that state when entering the bedroom; if work and sleep are done there, the body likely will gear up for work upon entering instead of sleep. ...Also, we tend to use my room as the guest room when folks come and stay with us, and not having access to my computer during stays would irk me to no end.

So that leaves the basement, the final possible hub. The problem with that, of course, is that it's a cave. Secluded corner, sure... but not closed off, so if someone's down there gaming it would be annoying. ...My bro's room is down in the basement too, which would probably be the most ideal of solutions since he has a secluded room with a door (and a bathroom attached to it!) and a window allowing light in, but he's not quite at the point where he's 'moved out' in the sense that all his stuff is down there.

So I'm in a quandary right now with my computer and my workspace, and my indecision (or rather, lack of any better solution) has only prolonged the difficulties writing. For some reason it's been increasingly uncomfortable sitting in my office writing-- this is another thing about me, I just don't sit well. I am not sure why this is, but I really dislike sitting properly in a chair. It makes me very restless, and the only comfortable position for me, one leg over the other, makes both legs fall asleep. Otherwise I am switching about every few minutes, constantly uncomfortable. I adjust and re-adjust the chair, sometimes I use a footrest and sometimes not, I cycle through everything several times a day.

So take problems sitting and add to that too much heat, too much light, small cluttered screen, a stationary computer, and occasional gaming, and this will all equal no writing getting done.

In utter, complete frustration, I started handwriting scenes while sitting in the family room. I initially attempted it just to get the words flowing again, to try and get started instead of staring at my too-small light-shy screen in a too hot room while sitting uncomfortably. I wrote one page on Wednesday, one on Thursday, and then four on Friday like this. Mosaic, my li'l iPod shuffle (incidentally, this is my third iPod I've owned; I keep getting rid of my iPods after I get them. Mostly because I don't like having music blasted in my ears every possible minute.) sits out there with me for music, and I have about ten colored pens I cycle through as I handwrite things out. I sit on the couch, there is good sunlight, and during the week no one is there in the room trying to watch movies or football games. There is no facebook to check, no constantly switching positions, no problems with overheating or overlighting. Then at the end of the day, sometimes while I'm playing WoW, I transcribe everything into Minion and see where I'm at. My point is, I am having no trouble writing while doing this.

Not that there aren't a few drawbacks. My hand undergoes more stress, for one thing; at the end of the day it sort of throbs in a darkly ominous sort of way, as if to herald more serious problems developing the older I get. (Part of the solution to this is to train myself to write without death-gripping the pen. I am too tense, and I've noticed it translates to most activities in my life.) It's an open room too, which means people can bug me while I'm there... though honestly, a closed door has never kept anyone from bugging me before. But when I'm in plain sight, people seem to think I can answer questions more readily or be interrupted more frequently, which is not the case. Yet on the other hand, I am much more in command of the house while in the family room since I can observe the comings and goings of everyone.

...And then, there's the reality that the writing I'm doing is more like drafting, in that it is rougher than I'm used to it being. If we were to compare this to the process of mining and jewelcrafting (this has nothing to do with WoW professions, I'm serious), I am more used to mining one small area, and as each gem is found I cut and polish it right there, before moving on to the next rock. Now, I feel I am mining large amounts of precious metals and stones, but they all go into this pile to be cut and cleaned later. Yes, this is the classic school-taught model I'm reverting to, and I'm not precisely pleased with it. But it's getting the job done so far, in that I'm producing material again (and the material is all good; nothing annoys me more than spending time mining and cutting and polishing only to find I wasted my time on an ordinary rock that must then be thrown away). Granted, all I have is my pile of mined material, and nothing has really been polished up yet, so I will withhold my favorable opinion of this new strategy until I see how I finish out the process. ...I'm not really sure how polishing will go, honestly. Perhaps to preserve the new environment I'll be printing out copies of the typed material and working on them... or else somehow managing it all in my office chair. Compy is still around, even if he is in bad shape, and he can travel to the family room. ...Though I may need to get him a little heatsink lap-thing, Compy gets hot when he's working.

And, sadly (for me), with the holidays fast approaching, there is much cleaning and organizing to do to get ready for them and in turn take away from my writing time. I am more than a little dissatisfied with this upcoming state of affairs. We'll see if handwriting in the family room will be able to preserve some amount of productivity within it all.

Current Tea: Blackberry Green

Plot Defragmentation

2009-11-06T15:39:00.003-05:00

Writing problems? No, not me, never!!

I expect you'd all like an update as to how things are going, but I doubt you want to read a lengthy play-by-play account of the past two weeks of writing attempts, so let's just say I've been 'experiencing technical difficulties' and leave it at that. There was a whole lot of staring at open word documents for lengthy periods of time, but this activity did not necessarily include the adding of words to said documents. A frustrating time was had by all though, I assure you.

Not like I wasn't trying throughout this whole thing. Granted, I was more often distracted by Warcraft (it's such an immense game I doubt I'll tire of it for awhile, which on one hand is good since I have to pay for it monthly), and for some reason it seems like I had more going on about the house errand-wise, but none of this can hide the fact that I just untangled the worst plotline knot to date. I suppose, if anyone is keeping track, the story is proceeding normally on an acceptable scale of escalation (that is, the further I go in the writing, I am presented with increasingly difficult problems to attempt to solve), so that should reassure someone.

Today instead of sitting down for more word document staring, I instead worked out some very pretty color-coded charts, chronological and then chapter divisions. I do not know why I haven't implemented this process earlier. When in doubt, make a color-coded chart. REALLY. I save all of mine, so at the end of all things I'll have a lovely collection to show you. I really can't get too very much accomplished in a particular arc until it's been color-chartified. I know this, and yet how long has it taken me to finally get this current one down on paper in chromatic ink?

The conclusions I have come to are thus: the two arcs I was planning on executing simultaneously will not integrate well no matter how I twist and bend things. It will, ultimately, be better if they are separate arcs, one after the other. Which comes first and how they will align with the rest of the book's material (the first two chapters) remains to be seen. Also, the main arc I am struggling with is uniquely difficult because it happens over a long period of time (five days in book time), and all of my arcs up to this point (as well as the next three subsequent ones) usually have most of their action focused on a single day or even just part of a day. Spreading out is never a problem, it is transitions that cause the headaches. ...But they do that whether we are jumping five minutes ahead or five days, transitions are jerks like that.

It is likely I shall change part, some, or all of my best laid plans, but there is something relieving about having a concrete record of how many scenes are needed, where they slot into the plotline, and what's going on in them. More than that, all the scenes have been carefully poked and prodded to make sure they contribute positively to the book's thematics and forward direction; I have actually cut some material, which is a fairly big deal for me. I've not so much compressed as optimized my plotline, moving all my data into adjacent blocks instead of having them spread out all over the hard drive metaphor I am currently constructing. Most of all I feel like I finally have an authoritative grip on this arc, whereas before it was wriggly and often slipping away from me in the general mass chaos I call writing.

The next step, of course, is to get the actual writing of all these ordered scenes done. I don't know if anything will occur today, but I sort of have tomorrow set aside for some writing. I may get some writing done on Sunday for all I know, and I try very hard (with at best mixed results) to set aside Mondays exclusively for writing. I can say right now though that I am definitively on Chapter 5, with 93 pages plus 30 (a total of 123. I denote it this way to indicate how much has been chronologically written and then mention the rest of what can count toward the total even though that last 30 pages are bits and pieces here and there later in the plotline.).

Current Tea: Tung Ting Jade Oolong Superior

Some Strange Metaphor This Way Comes

2009-10-24T23:44:00.003-04:00

This is going to be an entirely writing-related post. Just warnin' ya.

O-kay. Page 107 of Book 2. I'm spread out between chapters 4, 5, 6, and 7 right now, if you want my position (which is less a coordinate and more a range). I think I wrote over 3 pages today, but less than 4. I did, however, shift all these chapters around heavily, and finish out chapter 3 for good (I think). I thought I was going to have to wait until the end of both arcs I'm writing right now to integrate them, but I should have known better than to believe I could have the restraint to wait. Now here I am hard at work interweaving. I think though, that if I were to wait, I would be otherwise sacrificing some pretty good opportunities to make the writing flow optimally.

I've been pretty regular about playing World of Warcraft in the evenings, but tonight I deliberately stepped away from it all. I played until late last night, oh so late-- from 9pm until after 2am. The volume of hours is not so big a deal to me (so long as it doesn't happen all the time), but the timing was sort of bad. I had to get up around 9am with mom, and then slept until about noon. That's like, half the day gone (when I could be writing). I am thankful for the 3.5 pages (or so) that got written today in spite of it all plus the serious reorganization I worked through, and I know a lot of it came from not playing games this evening. I don't think the novelty of WoW has precisely worn off on me yet, especially because the higher the level I go the more I am able to do (and why would the system be like anything else? They want to keep you coming back, right?), but the pressure I'm exerting on myself to write is beginning to outweigh the desire to game. I need to make some serious progress here quickly, or else I fear losing grip on this story entirely.

The problem is that my days are stuffed to the gills (days have gills? What?) with things I need to be doing. Appointments and errands and cleaning and so on. I am certainly thankful for the increased opportunities to socialize with others, but I need to start being careful not to overcommit. I keep hoping the winter will keep me snowed in and hard at work on my writing, as it did last year, though that's no excuse to put the writing off. I'm already behind my self-imposed schedule (the great thing about being the one to impose your own deadlines is that if you miss them there aren't really any serious repercussions except for perhaps some guilt), and doubt I'll get book two done by January... though I suppose we can always dream. February seems a more accurate guess at this point. Though I would very much like to make up the time along the way and still have everything done and ready for submission around April 2011. We'll see how it goes.

Anyway, as for the writing itself, I think I've hammered out all the directions I'm headed in (We hammer directions? What?), which is one of the biggest things that can keep me from getting too much written otherwise. I like knowing where I'm going. I can pull off spontaneity when the time calls for it, but such things seem to thrive better for me within a larger, planned framework. Now that I've connected some more dots, so to speak, I hazard a guess that more will tangibly get done here in the next few weeks. I have a little time before the massive holiday gear-up.

Current Tea: It's late, and I'm not drinking tea, but I had Tung Ting Jade Oolong Superior earlier.

Replacement Therapy

2009-10-20T11:07:00.004-04:00

Still getting used to the whole convenience of RSS feeds translating into almost zero time spent on the internet these days. My morning ritual used to include a twenty minute internet surf while slowly shaking off the effects of sleep (good or ill). Now that I can get all my internet checks done in the space of about two minutes, I sort of sit quietly for a minute or so, not used to jumping so quickly into the day's minimum requirements from me. Case in point: today I must away to the market for groceries, and take mom to physical therapy. Also, it's Pizza Night, so I've got to get some dough made and then laterz make dinnerz.

I went to the Renaissance Festival (the Ohio one) this past weekend, and supremely enjoyed it (I wish we could have gone when you were here, Laura! You'd've loved it!). I bought some tea (no surprises here) and a pair of earrings, which I'm happy to say will finally replace the silver knotwork earrings I got in Scotland so many years ago. I also found a lovely shirt, but the wearer of said shirt actually got it in Yellow Springs, Ohio. It's an artsy sort of community; I'd never heard of it, but it's maybe an hour away? The girl gave me a store name and everything, which I looked up online (bringing that particular online session's time tally up to a whole 2.5 minutes) and located pretty easily. I am thinking about driving out sometime to investigate. It was a really lovely shirt.

As for my writing, I've been enforcing a more serious schedule since the arrival of Minion. I was at difficult point in the story ever since way back when Desky was still alive but I was thinking of upgrading him (wait, when am I ever NOT at a difficult point?? Well actually, right now it's not so bad), and then with the death in the computer family all the writing got put on hold. ...But even when things got straightened out, I feel like I've spent far too many days this past month staring at a screen and not able to think of what to add. This past week has finally seen a breakthrough, and we're moving again: I'm ready to tag my first 100 pages of book two here any day now.

I think a large part of writing though is the discipline of continuous focus. I wholeheartedly agree that there's a time and a place to take time off and away, but too much seems to break down a necessary level of long-term concentration. I remember when first really getting into the swing of writing at the beginning of the year, it took me a good two weeks to really get ramped up, and even then I wasn't reliably producing 4+ pages a day for another month. Right before I took time off for my commission, I was pushing 5 pages a day on average; now all of a sudden, I'm back down to 2.5 pages a day. ...Which I mustn't complain about, because that's better than 0 pages a day, my approximate average for July and August. The important thing I have observed is that the feeling of writing has gradually changed this past week, from haphazard and frustrated to deliberate and focused. I've realigned my attention to the book as primary activity, and reliable output is on the rise again.

This being said, there is a rumor that my older-younger bro (younger than I, oldest boy) might be coming back from Korea for Christmas... and bringing his girlfriend. Dad and I both had the same thought: this house needs some serious cleaning if this is going to happen. I don't know when that will get done, really, especially since I'm trying to keep the writing going! Perhaps though, if I am careful about redirecting time when I would otherwise be sitting under writer's block, I might be able to make some headway on the house.

On to-do lists with more immediate deadlines, I have yardwork to do soon, to prepare our tracts of land for the winter. Today and tomorrow are supposed to be beautiful warm days, but my schedule doesn't much accommodate outdoor work amid the rest of activities planned. Still, if I don't do something soon, I'll be out there in freezing temperatures trying to get work done while my ears fall off. But see, my schedule. I am loathe to give up some degree of spontaneous decision freedom in how I run things.

Because see, I think I get the most done the most happily when I am able to be spontaneous about choosing the events of the day. Planning out every minute of the next month is certainly a fun exercise, but I often find it gives me anxiety-- how much have I truly accomplished in comparison to my projected plan, for example, and what do I do when the weather causes problems or I just don't feel like doing something? Aside from my writing, which I press into whatever time I can as many days as possible, things like yardwork or the basement organization tend to see more of my efforts when I am given the freedom to start them when I feel like doing them.

Not like I don't see a potential problem with all this: there is much in life that must be done at the proper time, and even more that requires more discipline than I am applying. This is one reason the yardwork and I don't get along well: the plants are on a different sort of timetable than my nebulous plans. They want fed, watered, and trimmed regularly, and inspected for problems almost as much. The weeds need constant attention, and I am not one to give them that amount of my time. I've got too many other things to do, really. Yet if I do not learn to submit to schedules of discipline, how will things that need doing get done?

I do take solace in things like getting dinner on the table every night, and of course the writing. I can do it when I put my mind to it. There are things that I can enjoy the discipline of. And I think a great deal of all this is my serious exploration and undoing of my strange actions done to garner others' approval. I have made myself do so many things simply because I might get approval from others, it is liberating to choose not to clean the basement for fear of people thinking we are messy and disorganized. I will clean the basement when that is what I want to do, when the activity's source flows from a desire to impose order over chaos and make things look nice... not so I can impress others.

...Which is a thought process that can at times be at odds with events like guests coming for Christmas.

Current Tea: Blackberry Green, puchased at the Renaissance Festival
Current Project: Planning and Writing in Book 2

I Hear Cold People

2009-10-16T12:48:00.003-04:00

It is so cold my ears hurt. The inside of my ears.

I am not usually one to comment to much extent on the weather, or extreme temperatures, or how they are affecting me. I have the attitude that the Weather is there, and It will not go away, so I might as well live with all its quirks and annoyances. To complain about the weather seems like the most pointless of pastimes. Sure, it's something we can all relate to; somewhere we can start a conversation on the same footing. But really, what does the complaining accomplish? The Weather will not change for you, or anyone else. Weather is like that.

I have more trouble usually with indoor temperature extremes. Some would call me cold-blooded, but I prefer the term 'Energy Conductor'-- I don't have a lot of insulating layers (at this stage in my life) to slow the transfer of heat into and out of me, so I tend to get very cold and very hot very quickly. For some reason, this sort of thing doesn't seem to be nearly as noticeable outside as it is when I'm indoors. Perhaps because inside, there is the illusion of control over it all, and my complaints may stimulate a change in the overall atmosphere: if I say I'm cold, the thermostat could get cranked up, and if I say I'm hot, a fan could get turned on. Yet somehow, it gets to me far more when I'm sitting in church for two hours freezing at the low temperatures than it does when I'm out shoveling snow for two hours. Perhaps it is a movement-related thing. It's easier to not be so cold when one is sweating from hauling snow around, I suppose.

But that's what I was intending to do today, is get me some exercise. I've got my skates on and I was all set for a couple rounds about the 'hood, but for the coldness. The Weather claims it is still 44 degrees out, which seems to me some sort of malicious lie. I took the dog out for his long lap, and 'bout froze. My inner ear canals in particular. I am a bit put out over the whole thing.

So I really ought to go out and get my own skating done, but the cold has quailed me in more ways than I am used to. I've got two-and-a-half layers on (the racerback top isn't quite a full layer), to little avail. I'm going to need to break out my gloves, and I don't know if I've got some kind of earmuffy piece of equipment around I could use to protect the ears. I don't know if it's worth it. Maybe I should walk on the treadmill downstairs instead. Except I hate that thing, almost more than the cold.

But I really ought to get more skating in while I still can. The winter, with its snow and sub-zero temperatures, prevents it, and the skates are forced into hibernation until spring. I can't help but feel it's still a little early to have to hole them up and in for the winter.

Salutations!

2009-10-09T10:25:00.008-04:00

I'd like to introduce some new faces about the Computer Colony (and elsewhere).

Minion, a Mac Mini by trade, arrived on Wednesday to take the place of Desky (and Compy, really), and seemed rather unaffected by the state of affairs here. He seems a helpful sort right out of the box, something used to looking beyond outer appearances to see the core issue underneath (and why not? Just about everyone who meets him mistakes him for a simple external hard drive, not an entire computer). I put him through a day-long intensive training program, and we're still getting used to each other, but I think things will work out well. Miss CinnTeak is enthusiastic about him, as he is DVI-based (Desky was VGA, which is classic and old-fashioned, and she was always very sweet to him, but she really prefers the more modern DVI format), though they have had a few minor quarrels about who turns off what when (Minion kept turning her off and refused to let her turn on until he gets rebooted; I had to firmly change some settings). The Printer hasn't exactly been cooperative, but I think that's The Printer's fault. We will need to have an aligning talk, him and I soon.

Off there to the side next to Minion in the picture, that little blip of blue is Mosaic, my refurbished iPod shuffle (very cheap at $39). I got her so that I wouldn't need to have Compy sitting around in the kitchen collecting flour in between his keys (which usually happens while I'm baking and trying to listen to music at the same time). She's cool so far! I think we'll enjoy our time together. She will be of enormous help when I work on the fall yardwork next week. I am still getting used to not being able to hear as much of what's going on around me (Ninjas don't like it when their senses are compromised), but it's so nice to be able to have a portable MP3 player that clips to me and follows me around, instead of having to physically move Compy every time I change cleaning locations in the house. (The name 'Mosaic' I actually wielded twice on Wednesday, also naming a female dwarf Paladin character with it in my second foray into World of Warcraft-- we'll talk about WoW another day.)

And though Hauly is not a computer, I figure that while we're doing introductions, I might as well throw him in. He's the bag I purchased in Switzerland, so named because his job is to haul my stuff ((grin)). He is not a purse, he is a bag, thank-you. He is full of pockets, and I've already spilled tea in him (there are worse things to smell like than tea, you know!). He is also the first true purse-like object I've ever owned-- that is, a bag used daily that stays at my side constantly, something I really resisted (Ninjas like their hands and arms free at all times). But Hauly's sheer usefulness has forcefully changed my heart on the matter; any other bag and I doubt I would have been so easily swayed. He is relentless in his charms and helpfulness, so much so I cannot help but love him.

...Corsair and Broken Red are there in the front, too. They were hanging around, and saw that pictures were being taken, so they jumped in. Corsair is the sleek-looking one with pirate ship sails on him; Broken Red is the ugly one next to him. That's right, Broken Red. You heard me. Ugly.

Current Tea: Imperial Silver Needles

Mini-ature Idea

2009-10-03T10:42:00.004-04:00

Well, Compy's track pad has failed, which is another little blow to the whole computer situation. We don't really have the Moneys right now to purchase any sort of computer, let alone my tripped out dream laptop, but when I mentioned the situation to Dad yesterday he seemed rather insistent that I look into a solution, and promised to (somehow) finance it, though the (admittedly minor) caveat is that it must be something cheaper than aforementioned dream laptop.

I've been going back and forth on things like getting a very small net book (PC), for use in traveling and running old PC games. I think it would be very nice to pop into my bag Hauly (who is still going to get his own post someday) and take anywhere-- my bro has a 7" netbook, and that's TINY. The only problem with the netbooks is that the power that can be placed in one is pretty limited. I've been thinking I'm going to start playing World of Warcraft, and I need a certain level of power in order to support that stuff, and not just the minimum system requirements, either. Ideally I'll be going on raids with some friends of mine, so I would need a computer that can handle that kind of processing demand. I researched the netbooks, but the most powerful one seems to be barely scraping the bottom of the minimum. Also, this would mean the 'book would no longer be 7", but more like 10 or so.

But I looked up and priced out a Mac mini yesterday, which was a surprising venture. These little tiny computers have got some power under the hood, power I wasn't expecting at all. And they start at $599 (actually, let's say they start at $750 for the sake of the somewhat gouging but absolutely necessary AppleCare warranty). The one I priced out was at $1,111, which somehow seems like an auspicious number. It meets all my requirements except mobility... but then again, mobility with me also means dropped computers and dead hard drives, so maybe this is a good thing. With the extended warranty, I'm more or less guaranteed 3 years with this computer, and if I'm lucky I'll be able to push it to 4 or 5. That's like paying $250-some a year or less for it. How can it be so cheap?? Well, a mac mini comes only with the computer, not the monitor, keyboard, mouse, or speakers. It would cost more to buy these things, right? Unless one were to HAVE them already, scavenged off of Desky (he IS an organ donor, so everything's legal :P). 'But isn't Desky a sunflower mac?' one might ask. 'Doesn't that mean its monitor is connected to the base?' Yes, but have you forgotten about Miss CinnTeak? She is a tablet first, but she is also a display! I have all the parts needed for a mac mini, so I would incur no extra costs. I am Seriously Considering this option. I may even be able to chip away at some of this cost myself by selling things. Remember, I have $700 I can count on in my account, so if I get my act together and manage to make $411 dollars selling things... That sounds downright Reasonable!!

In other computer-related news, the latest upgrades with OS 10.5 on Compy have been nice, though I have noticed they have severely cut down on my internet time (which is not really a bad thing). I know RSS feeds are old news by now, but now that I have a fancy-recent version of Safari (my favorite browser! Oh, SO THANKFUL I don't have to use Firefox anymore!), I set up an RSS feed folder to notify me concerning the things I check daily. Also, the updated mail program has got these smart mail folders, so I threw together a folder of all the emails I'm actually interested in reading, and sorted the rest into folders, just in case I might need them (coupons, etc). So I'm all nice and organized, but it means the oft-repeated ritual of 'checking the internet' is no longer valid; all I check is Facebook and that's about it. I am sure the time I am saving is good, I just need to get over the sitting down, realizing I have nothing to check, and sitting awkwardly for a minute or two before going to find something else to do.

The Silicon Valley of the Shadow of Death

2009-10-01T23:16:00.004-04:00

I don't know how this happened, but I have lost control of this whole OS upgrade affair, and have inadvertently killed my dear Desky.

I suppose the previous statement isn't entirely accurate; I do know what all happened. It's a long and convoluted tale, but the short of it is that I made a decision in the heat of impatience, and now I've lost a whole computer.

So the long-awaited OS upgrade arrived today, and I was absolutely beside myself with anticipation. I set to work backing up all my files on Desky and went right into installing it into Compy. It took several hours, and Compy emerged better, stronger, and faster, as I had anticipated. All seemed to go well, so I turned to Desky to do the same-- and realized I'd made a critical judgment error. Desky's CD reader did not work.

I have known this for awhile, so I'm a little confounded why I didn't think of it until I had gotten to the point where I was sitting down with an installer disk. What to do? I tried a few things like connecting the two computers over the network and trying to install it that way, but I was unsuccessful. After some research, I hit on the idea of creating a disk image and copying it that way. I got really close to getting this to work, too, but even when I finally got an exact copy of the installation disc onto Desky, I couldn't get him to 'boot' from it. Back to more research.

This is where my impatience got the better of me. I entered into the Disk Utility program and started messing around; finally, I found a portion where one could 'restore' a drive onto another. Somehow in my mind that equated to getting Desky to boot properly. I told it to restore the Installation disk image over my main hard drive. Cue the opera singer: MIIIIIIISTAAAAAAAKE.

If I had given myself just a little more time to research, I would have found the article about using an external hard drive as an impromptu CD reader and booting from that; as it was, I read through the article thoughtfully as Desky obediently destroyed his own mind. Then, I decided I had indeed made a bit of a mistake, so I turned back to the Disc Utility program and force-quit in order to go back and work on this other solution. The computer warned me, I remember: quitting early may cause discs to cease functioning properly. On and ahead I went, since I'd been sitting there for over an hour already.

I shut down and restarted. And poor, poor Desky, zombie-like, took hold of his skull and wrenched it open, to show me his brain had been deleted. A question-marked file was all that was left, on an utterly gray expanse of background.

I have tried lots of things, and I can't get Desky to recognize any of my external drives, from which I might be able to run the installation CD off of. And with the CD reader broken, I can't just pop the CD in and recover everything. Desky's been destroyed, and reviving him will mean either paying to have his CD reader replaced, or paying to get an external DVD reader (which STILL may not fix the problem). I have screwed up, in a very big way, and I'm upset about it.

And yet, in the midst of it all, Compy is here for me. I don't understand my dear computers, and how when one fails the other is always there and ready to undertake the burden of keeping me going cybernetically. So old, nearly six years, how can Compy have it in him to step forward and shoulder the responsibility of primary computing machine yet again? He was in retirement, in a nursing home if you will, and now he's been called back to active duty. I worry for him, and don't know how long he will last. I wanted Desky here with us too, not for Compy to be flying solo over all this. I don't want to yet think of how much I still have yet to work out with CinnTeak, my Adobe software, and The Printer-- though I think they already know how serious a tragedy has just occurred.

But when I opened Microsoft Word for the first time on Compy since his upgrade (and after almost a whole year), I found to my surprise Chapter 5 of Book 2 of Planned Story waiting for me, opened automatically. I still don't understand why it came up; this was the first document I'd opened since Word's reinstallation, but until today it had only existed in Desky's brain. ...Here perhaps was Compy's quiet offering of comfort, taking the newly transplanted memories from Desky it knew were so dear to me and holding them up, as if to say 'I'm going to help you keep going with this. We'll get you to the end safely'.

I'm completely serious about Compy opening my latest chapter without any prompting. I have no idea why it happened. But in the midst of this awful evening of computer death and mourning when I thought it was going to be a night of celebration, I am held by Someone Greater Than I, who offers Compy to me and seems to be saying 'Take, and Go Forth, beloved. I shall yet provide for you.'

In Transit

2009-09-30T12:39:00.002-04:00

So I have no hard feelings against the US Post Office. In fact, most of the time, I feel sorry for them-- they are having Money Troubles, so I understand. Usually when I go to the Post Office there are not enough workers, and those that are there tend to be harried by the rudest of customers. I wish the post office were doing better, because really they offer the cheapest shipping, and if you get delivery confirmation the package has a lower chance of getting lost.

That being said, their online tracking is virtually (har har) useless. I was notified of shipment bright and early yesterday morning, but only today has the site realized the tracking number I keep putting in is not invalid but rather a legitimate package. I mean, it's useful if someone on eBay is all 'where's my package argh' but in terms of timing it is not precisely accurate. I always appreciated Fed Ex and UPS for their more up-to-date tracking (though I will not ship with UPS again if I can help it due to them breaking/losing large amounts of my things when moving home).

Anyway, I'm anxious and antsy for my OS upgrade. I feel like I've gone so long without upgrading, telling myself over and over again to wait that when I finally decided to get it I've unleashed a flood of impatience that had been building over the past few years. I've been trying not to think about it, but since I work on a computer lots it's hard to keep it divorced from my active thought process. "Soon you will run better, so much better," I keep thinking. Ah me.

So writing is going slowly and, I have to admit a bit shamefacedly, unpleasantly. I am not overly worried at the moment; this long-term project has taught me how these trends are short-term. But I am starting to get a bit concerned about how long it has been since I've been able to make lots of progress all at once. I mean, I understand that the process of creativity is not bound by conventional time as we know it, but I still think I could be working harder on the book, and thus putting in place an environment more conducive to inspiration.

And this is where I keep coming back to that OS upgrade! Because when that thing comes, it will free me from my desk and enable me to take Compy to any and all places in the house to write. Sure, the office is great because it's secluded. But anyone that knows me knows I have problems sitting in the same position in a less than ideal chair/desk set-up. It would be somewhat exciting to be able to wander about the house (or out to a coffee shop!!) to write. So you see, even though I try not to think about the upgrade, I am thinking about it. In frustration, I ended up playing some games (Mostly Mario Galaxies, which I completed last night IN ENTIRETY, all 242 stars) to try and get my mind off it all, but then all I could think about was how I was avoiding my story.

...So it'll be good when this upgrade comes. I just hope everything works out compatibility-wise. That I worry about. Also, that I am obsessing too much about it. Based on these ruminations, I am pretty sure that's a valid concern.

Current Tea: Gingerbread (another bust from Adagio. Currently looking for a good 'fall' spice black tea. Tea Table's got an Orange Cookie tea that's pretty close, but I have like one more dose of that before I'm out.)

How the System Operates

2009-09-26T09:43:00.004-04:00

It's amazing what we as humans will do to adapt, I suppose.

I know I just waxed eloquent about my plans to get a new compy, but I kept running into the wall of where am I going to get $3700 where. I don't see a volume of money this large coming down the pipe toward me any time soon, so I started to look for an alternate plan. ...Actually, I was sort of goaded toward the alternate plan by an impromptu hard drive reformat/Brain Flush of Compy. I had dropped Compy last year sometime, maybe July? and had been waiting since then for what I have come to accept as the inevitable hard drive failure to follow. Curiously though, aside from the inexplicable inability to open Word documents from that point on, Compy never seemed to suffer any further memory problems. It's been over a year since the drop, and my files are all backed up, so I thought I might wipe his memory and start anew. The only problem with that is that my operating system is old.

I have Mac OS 10.3 (Panther, for all you hip catz keepin' track at home). It was a great, ground-breaking OS for its time, but its time is not Now, it was Awhile Ago. No one designs for 10.3 anymore. Look almost any piece of Mac-compatible software up and I can almost guarantee you it will have the caveat "requires 10.4 or higher" somewhere on its system requirements page. I had 10.4 for a very brief period in time, and it was lovely-- the gentleman who did Compy's first brain transplant thought I had 10.4 (TIGER), and automatically installed that. He found out only afterward I only had up to 10.3, but he let me go with Tiger happily installed. Unfortunately, I lost my free upgrade when Compy had his second brain transplant, which saddened me. Still, I have been balking at buying the OS upgrades myself, because they are, among other things, expensive. Usually to the tune of $200, and once Compy hit his 4th birthday, I was starting to think more in terms of getting a new Compy altogether.

And now, here it is, 2 years after that, with no new Compy, Old Compy still livin' large (Old Compy hates being called Old Compy), and an OS that is increasingly obsolete. Something must be done.

Part of the catalyst to this was the recent release of 10.6 (Snow Leopard), and its price of $29.99. What? $30 for an entire new OS? Sounds too good to be true, and it is-- 10.6 is the first Intel-Mac-Only OS, and both Desky and Compy run on Powerpc chips, not Intel. This means that the very highest OS either of them can support is 10.5 (reg'lar ol' Leopard). This is discouraging, but once I figured this out, it provided me with a curious glimpse of insight: I no longer had to wait for The Next Big Upgrade. I now had a cap, a limit to where I could upgrade Compy and Desky, and let me tell you, the $132 I just paid to order a multiple license version of 10.5 is very much cheaper than the $4416.95 tripped-out laptop I have dreams of owning someday.

(And for those keeping score, the other part of the catalyst for upgrading involved that Brain Flush I just performed on Compy-- one that rendered his ability to get online powerless because of his ancient operating system. That is a bit too big a blow to Compy's usefulness!)

10.5 is a great OS, one I've been wanting for awhile. It organizes the computer activity better, for one big thing, and offers Time Machine for another (not like I haven't been backing up with freakish regularity these days on account of Planned Story). Everything is compatible to it. Things run better. CinnTeak will highly benefit from the upgrade and increased compatibility. It won't be like buying a new Compy, but it will give Compy and Desky a sort of Fountain-of-Youth serum dose. I am hoping it'll give Compy another year or so, and Desky even more than that. I am so looking forward to having things run properly on my computers again.

...Anyway, I'm looking forward to its arrival. It will feel like I'm getting a couple of new computers! ...Assuming it all works and is compatible. The item description when I bought the software said 'Intel Macs', but the Apple website assured me it was compatible with both. I suppose I will find out in 4-14 days (curse you, standard shipping...)

Per-Chase

2009-09-22T11:11:00.002-04:00

Okay, page 78 of Book 2. We're rolling again-- though I don't know for how long.

I can now make the official announcement that I'm back to work writing, since I got positive word from my client and have been promised a check. This is good, because I have a bill that needs paid. I bought some clothes for the fall, as well as a nice trenchcoat-- the story of the trenchcoat is a harrowing tale of buying one at the end of this past spring, not being entirely satisfied with it... and then finding the perfect one here this fall and being frustrated. I really ought to get going on selling the first on eBay. I did after all just manage to finally sell my old leather jacket (a jacket that didn't sell the first time I tried selling it last year). I am a bit concerned about eBay's increasingly strict rating systems for sellers-- I feel it has become much easier for buyers to abuse sellers. Though perhaps this is a knee-jerk reaction from the abuse sellers give to buyers, which I am not happy to admit is sort of common on the internets. I thankfully received positive feedback, but an earlier item I sold once received neutral feedback for what the buyer claimed were chips on all the items, which to my amateur eyes I guess were invisible. I offered to work things out with her, but did not hear back, so now I've got this non-positive feedback hanging 'round my profile for a year. ...Could be worse though, so I shouldn't complain.

I have been sort of thinking through the house in the back of my head thinking about things to sell again. I stand to lose just about all my commission paycheck to my clothing bill, but I knew that going into all this. In the meantime, I've been trying to find a way to afford a new tripped-out laptop, but I have few ideas that don't involve taking more time away from my writing, which I don't want to do. eBay is sort of my only option that I can take care of from home with minimal time commitment, but to do that one needs items to sell. Also, items that will sell. Luckily, eBay is running a special where I can list 5 items free a month, so I may take them up on that. I am getting better at naming shipping costs too (when I mis-estimate, I end up having to make up the difference out-of-pocket), though I did notice a new policy change involves either making shipping insurance mandatory or not an option. Bleh! It was SO much easier when one could just check the 'optional' button and leave that liability up to the buyer.

But the laptop I want, with all the sweet upgrades and a few programs is like $4416.95 (and would be even more if I opted for a solid-state hard drive. It's tempting, since I burn through hard drives once every two years, on average. Due to blunt trauma accidents, mostly.). I think this is ridiculous, personally, but you know I will still pay that much right now because I like Apple computers and how they both 1)don't crash nearly at all and 2)don't have really any virus problems. Paying more money for something with a lower frustration index seems reasonable to me. Also, I really prefer them for art software. They look nice. Things operate smoothly. And they last... at least the ones I have. I hear some troubling rumbles about the more recent ones, but I mean, Compy is pushing 6 years, and Desky is not far behind him. $4400 divided over 6 years is just over $700 per year, if new Compy were to last the same length of time. ...I think I paid $3000 or something for Compy, so that means I've been cruising on $500 a year for him (...this of course does not include the hard drive crashes, but you know, those are likely my fault). ...And mom's compy was refurbished and maybe $1000 or so, which has really been the best deal. Desky's such a trooper.

Anyway, $4400 is a lot. I have about $700 I can count on in my bank account, so that takes it down to $3700, which somehow doesn't seem nearly as bad. But the most optimism I can muster is still skeptical of knocking off much more than another couple hundred on eBay. ...I think I will take all my Christmas money and through that toward it, as well as anything Birthday-related my parents might be kind enough to throw at me in the upcoming year. That still leaves me with a lot to make up, but one never knows what will happen. ...Perhaps I will break under the pressure and just get a cheaper machine. Then again, I somehow managed to purchase CinnTeak, who is such a sweetheart and is of course still making herself immensely useful. Perhaps I will figure out how to afford Compy II?

I tell you what I need to do though, is stop buying trench coats.

Current Tea: Ting Tung Jade Oolong Superior

In Which I Win Things

2009-09-19T12:23:00.003-04:00

I have won a blogging contest. Who'd'a thought I'd be able to get free stuff from doin' somethin' I do with random normalcy??

Better yet, who'd'a thought I'd win tea? Free tea for writing? $63 worth? YES. Check it. I am even on the front page of the website right now. Yes, this is the place I order tea from-- it has most excellent high-quality tea, and they allow five free samples of tea per order. You should totally check it out if you like tea and want to order some.

Current Tea: Iron Goddess Oolong. I had Peaches n' Cream earlier and mom drank my last half-cup before I got to it, so I had to make another batch of tea, darrrrn~

This Is Not A Post

2009-09-16T08:46:00.004-04:00

You know, as soon as I announce I'm back to writing, I'll hear back about my commission and need to do more work on it. I really ought to call and see how things were received. ...

So there will be no grand announcement about my return to my book, nor will I tell you that I'm on about page 63, nor will I tell you I am in Chapter 4 (but still have a section to add to Chapter 3 before we call it done) of Book 2. I won't tell you that it took a few days to get used to long periods of writing again, and I won't tell you this this current arc will be a curious one. I won't say a word about how it's actually two arcs occurring simultaneously, and so the process of knitting them together into a cohesive whole is likely going to mess with my everpresent desire to chronolize my writing, as in get it all done in order right away. At the very least, it's going to mess with my neat little page counts and chapter tallys-- that is, if I were back to writing, which we are not saying right now whether I am or not.

The scene I have not been working on has not so much appeared as it has evolved, and is still leveling up and gaining stats. It's a curious mess right now, a lot like an unpolished uncut gem where I can see the sparkle underneath it all, but there's a lot of work yet to be done in order to get it to shine properly. There is still so much to think out and organize, which as far as you know I am not doing. And then, of course, we haven't really started the second arc yet, and I'm debating whether I'm going to write one all the way through and then the other, or if I'm really going to jump back and forth. The wise course of action would be to not worry so much about how it all will come about, but you know me and my love of controlling silly little method-related details.

It's been two months though. It's about time I got back to all this.

I Wrote This Yesterday

2009-09-08T19:40:00.004-04:00

I am motivated by guilt more often than I care to admit, either to you or myself. Sometimes that's the only way things get done, really. The progress on this commission, for example, is being fueled mostly by guilt at this point-- guilt I didn't finish sooner, that I didn't do it right the first time, that it's holding up book writing. So it's sort of startlingly assuaging when I raise my head at the end of the day, startled at how long I've been working on it, and realize it's quittin' time. I started this morning around 8:30am and stopped prob'ly around 5:30, with an hour break in there to take mom to physical therapy... so a standard 8-hour work day. I did a whole lot and still have a whole lot to do and I'm kind of frustrated by it all. If I thought better, or planned ahead more, or understood design more adequately, somehow this would all be done by now. ...Is what I keep saying to myself. But at the same time, I look at those solid 8 hours and say 'I am DONE for the day!' and do not feel guilty in the slightest. Tomorrow is another day in which to work, is it not? Perhaps then I shall get it all done. I am close, but then again, the last 10% takes 90% of the time. Now, if I had not worked those 8 hours, I'd prob'ly feel guilty right now about mismanaging my time. See how this all works?

I tantalize myself with fantasies of what I will do once the commission is finished. Writing of course ought to happen, but I think about being able to wake up and have nothing on the schedule that must be accomplished once again. I really work well when I have no pressure-- and things DO get done, just not precisely when I or anyone else may expect them to. The basement is a (metroid) prime example of that. It is being inexorably cleaned, square inch by square inch. It hasn't happened all at once, it tends to get more messy before it gets less messy, and it's still not done yet. But it is well on its way, and it will eventually, barring some crazy act of God that insurance will not cover, be truly and wholly cleaned. We are in the midst of the 'basement sanctification' project. It's a process, but I began this good work in it, and I will not rest until it is completed.

Also today, in exasperation from working on my commission I trimmed back the roses a bit-- one of them is sick with gray mildew, and another I think was suffering from the close proximity of a green onion plant. For some reason, those plants attract flies, not bees. Poor things (the roses, not the flies!), I just don't care for them as often as I should, you know? But I must pick and choose what to spend my time on, and roses are rarely a first or second choice. They are, however, near the top of the list of activities to accomplish when I'm trying to avoid other work.

And I really have been writing more, but I don't have a new page tally for you yet. Lots of little scenes here and there-- at some point soon, I will stitch them all together, and there will be a massive level up in story stats.

Current Tea: Shanghai Lychee Jasmine

Much Ado

2009-09-06T16:53:00.003-04:00

The commission creeps toward completion, but I have not heard from my client since before I left for Switzerland. I sent her an email yesterday promising to mail a proof package to her; still no reply. Hope she is A)okay and B)not mad at me. Honestly, she was the one who convinced me to do this in the first place, and I have been greatly restrained by the various demands placed on my time here at the house.

I actually have a fair amount to do in order to put together said proofing package, but I figure I'll do it all tomorrow (you know, when I'm s'pposed to be resting from my labors, HAH). I gave both caregivers the day off from their labors, and dad is working, so it won't be much of a Labor Day unless you count all the labor we will do. With the situation at home, holidays tend to be a lot more work, and less of a holiday, but I guess that's the way we gotta roll right now.

But anyway, since it'll just be me'n mom, and not a great deal will be open tomorrow, I figure it's a good time to dig in and get all the documents ready for proof prints. I went to Office Max-- Office Max!-- and have gotten completely reasonable prints of my work. I think I might take them some of my own business cards here next and have them print up a few nicely done sheets of 'em. You know, along with that massive website update I always promise myself I'm going to do.

I am getting sidetracked.

I got a little writing done last night and this morning, which I'm very pleased about. It feels lovely to be doing it again, and I try not to think of the two months I wasn't writing while working this commission in and around my life. I'm back to the daily grind, as it were, but I'm trying to hang onto more positive things. I feel like there's a lot I could be doing, but once this commission is complete I'm going to drop it ALL and just write. Yes indeed, there is much writing to be done.

Though yesterday, while waiting for an opportune time to run out and get my prints done, I went through almost a year of the old blog, and then cut down my unrated playlist to 430-some songs. That's the lowest it's ever been by a wide margin, so it's quite impressive to me. I have been meaning to organize the basement kitchen, but I found the dishwasher has been unhooked, so I have to figure out how to get that up and running again before I can do anything else in that area. I found a monitor I missed on my recycling run, I still have a ton of computer 'software' stuff to deal with, and there are still miscellaneous piles and papers about the basement. I figure though that the kitchen and the storage kitchen items will be the next major monster to conquer. ...You know, after all that writing gets done!

Current Tea: Had Blackberry from Adagio.com this morning, and am so completely dissatisfied with it. It is rather fragrant-smelling, but when brewed it doesn't taste like Blackberries AT ALL, just like generic black tea. I am actually considering throwing it all out, and Faithful Readers KNOW it would take something deeply catastrophic to move me to throw out otherwise perfectly good tea (except it is neither 'perfect' nor 'good'). In fact, ALL tea from Adagio tends to taste generic and unflavored to me. Order from TheTeaTable.com instead, and you too shall never give your business to Adagio again.

Planting the Seeds of Upcoming Posts

2009-09-03T07:21:00.008-04:00

Well, here we are, back in Ohio. Where to begin? Or, as tends to be my custom, shall I not tell you anything about my trip? (grin)

No, I'll tell you some. Like how we were in a li'l town called Adelboden up in the Swiss Alps (has its own wikipedia entry and everything. 3000 people, it's a happenin' place). Open the porch doors, and the mountains are BAM right there. Mountains, real mountains. None of this east-part-of-Ohio-hills foolishness. I haven't seen the Rockies before, but I have seen the Appalachians, and I humbly submit that if mountains all entered a grand fighting contest (we would call it 'Mountain Fighter II Turbo'), the Alps would KO the Appalachians and tell them to go home and be a family man (er, 'mountain'). Sorry App lovers. That's just the way it is.

We climbed and hiked several days up in the Alps. We climbed to the top of the second highest waterfall in Switzerland, and when we got up (to about 1964 km), we found cows. Apparently, the cows walk up the same narrow, steep, slippery, rail-less trail we followed to get to the top during the spring, and then walk back down in the fall. Something about the grazing up there being good for their milk, which is in turn good for Swiss cheese. Cows in Switzerland all wear cowbells; I thought it was all going to be very obnoxious, but in reality, it just makes it sound like the country is full of windchimes. It was a surprisingly beautiful effect.

The country was so clean, that was something that impressed me. No trash lying about. Bright vibrant greens and blues. Flowers everywhere, both the wildflower variety and the cultivated type. The people were relaxed and down-to-earth. The food was downright normal compared to other places I've traveled to. I did have cheese, and chocolate, and bratwurst (real bratwurst is pretty amazing), and chocolate croissants, and mars bars, some wine here and there... and pretzel bread. Pretzel Bread will be getting its own post here very shortly, since it inspired a baking excursion for me upon return.

We actually spent most of our time in the countryside and only a few days in the cities, which is sort of the inverse of previous international trips for me. We spent a day in Bern, the capital of Switzerland (No, Zurich is not the capital. I was confused too.), and that is where I bought most of things I brought back: lots of chocolate, a hat, chocolate, a bag (the bag also merits his own post), chocolate, some Limoncello, and chocolate. Yes, I really bought that much chocolate. Really, most of it is intended as gifts for others, but I have reserved some for myself. They are huge into the creamy texture for chocolate over there, something I am not exactly a fan of, but the quality is so high I have no problems eating it all anyway. Yes, Swiss chocolates really are that good.

A moment in Zurich must be touched upon: we were privileged to visit Rolly, the husband of a friend of my friend's mother (relationship is complicated and full of complicate). This friend and her husband live in the top two floors of an apartment building plus the terrace on top. They are avid antiquers, so their house was full to bursting with beautiful old objects, many they still use in daily life (like the dining room table and chairs, for example). There was another flight attendant staying there too, also an antiquer (this is how they all meet, either via antiquing or attending flights), and we heard great stories about all the places she'd flown to. We had a simple 'European' dinner of salad, potatoes, good wine, and plates of cheese. I did just fine with the Swiss cheese (very good, and no, it's not the American-style-Swiss-with-the-holes-in-it cheese!), but I didn't do so well with the Brie and Camembert (soft, creamy French cheeses). It's that creamy texture, I tell you! Then we had ice cream (to show off these lovely silver antique ice cream goblets used in hotels for room service back in the 1900's or so), followed by tea. Rolly makes a mean pot of tea: he blended like three kinds of tea to make a unique white tea with hints of fruit flavors. Then we went up on the terrace to watch the sun set over Zurich; I took my tea cup. I proceeded to have one of those heaven-foreshadowing moments: standing there sipping high-quality tea, staring out at the colors and the city, listening to my friend's camera snap pictures and everyone chatting comfortably, I was full of thankful contentment.

Also, flying first/business class must be mentioned. Because of connections with awesome friends, circumstances were favorable: we flew standby, so the ticket was cheap, but we ended up in the front of the plane due to the friend's mother being a retired flight attendant. The seats reclined a great deal, the food was abundant and quite good, and there were little personal media touch screens. I myself spent most of the flight time playing Chrono Trigger for DS, which I still have mixed feelings about (yet another post for another time). Also, Insaniquarium. Feed fish, they poop money, collect money. Shoot aliens. Yes. (Just related enough: while on the trip, Friend Lauren introduced me to a world on the internet that I hear is wide and varied: the Escape-The-Room game genre. I have not had time so far to go investigate more thoroughly, but I am eager to go and play soon. I'm sure another post will spring forth from these endeavors.)

In my downtime there, I did a lot of game playing, but I also got a whole arc of Planned Story blocked out. I would probably be writing right now if it weren't for having yet to completely finish my commission. Argh! I felt absolutely terrible about not getting it done before I left (the story of my artistic career is one of chronic lateness), but I was sick, and so was the rest of my family. I haven't heard back from my client. I hope that does not bode ill. I will be back to work today on it, and hope to finish it quickly.

And then, perhaps, I can get back to my writing at long last.

Current Tea: Exotic Evening Green

The Sound Of My Mind Being Blown

2009-08-21T23:59:00.006-04:00

So as is my usual behavior, I likely won't be updating much if at all during my travels. I thought I'd leave a little prayer request place holder here though on behalf of my parents and family. If you wouldn't mind praying for healing, relief from pain, renewed faith, great sense of peace, and a better understanding of the Lord's love for them all, I'd greatly appreciate it. I was just saying to a friend how it is mindblowing to me that so much can be going wrong health-wise with my parents, so much for so long without relief. What can be done? So please, if you are here, pray for healing and relief. I keep coming back to this word. There has been so little of it for them in the past eight years, even with my constant prayers. The breadth and depth of how they suffer blows my mind.

But I am leaving now, for a very short time, and I worry greatly for how they will fare while I'm absent. I worry also for if and when I leave for a much longer amount of time. I wish for them to be healthy enough that I can leave them and be independent and live my life with freedom. I fear that may never happen. I do not know the future, all I can do is desperately hope their whole life, and mine, will not be filled with this constant pain. I will continue to pray, and wait on an answer to come. Please, if you would be so kind, pray for them too. Two voices are better than one, and every extra one after that is all the better. I will not shy away from asking, time and again. Both for prayer from you all and a miracle from Him.

Thank you. See ya when I get back.

Downsizing, Please Wait

2009-08-20T17:50:00.002-04:00

Let us sing a joyful song, for the electronics are GONE.

I think it is such a big thing in my head because I built it up far more than it necessarily needed to be. I have had my eye on getting the computer stuff recycled for nearly a year, and yet never 'got around to it' for one reason or another, mostly due to my relative lack of knowledge on a decent locale I could take it all to. When I started doing the major basement overhaul at the end of spring/beginning of summer, I thought seriously about all that computer stuff again... and for one reason or another it got put off. I tend to massively clean in spurts, but there's usually a long 'hibernation' segment of time in between each intense session, and so the computers have languished half-sorted all about our basement for I'd say two months. But they're finally gone, like the good will donation is gone, and I am much pleased.

What's next? The inevitable question that *I* will ask, even if you do not. As for the basement, I have a pile of empty boxes, which I intend to stack in an orderly fashion and then place in the storage section of the basement-- because since I have cleaned out the storage section, it can now be used for its intended purpose. That should not take all too long, really! And then there is the basement kitchen cleaning. This might take a bit longer, as it will involve some organization of kitchen items, and likely some general frustration at finding dirty dishes and such left for who knows how long. (Still, I am expecting to get at least this far before heading off to der Land uf Switzer).

There is also a great box of baskets I need to somehow get rid of, as well as two large decorative wreaths that we just don't want. There are many pictures and decoration to hang, and mom's desk needs sorted through (again). The garage needs cleaned out too, we've got old aquariums and such from when we had cold, unloving reptilian pets. And then perhaps I can exuberantly say that our house has been cleaned, sorted, and organized. That was always one of my great goals when I moved home, you know.

Physical And Mental Tidying

2009-08-18T23:36:00.003-04:00

Yeee! Goodwill donation out and ready to go!

Maybe it's because I've been so frustrated lately with not getting things crossed off on the ol' to-do list that now I can get unbelievably excited about accomplishing something. ALL those blasted goodwill boxes have been carried to the curb, and I am full of elation. Also, I cleaned my studio. It's amazing how these little things can make me feel like I've done so much.

There are numerous small errands to run after this, but the last major elephant bite to swallow will be a massive electronica recycling run, made either Thursday or Friday. Everything else beyond that is small stuff not to sweat over.

It's weird, in the midst of getting all this done, the family is more turbulent than ever. Mom is having more panic episodes, and dad is suffering from his various pain-related issues, and here I am in the middle of it all trying to accomplish things. This is part of why I'm so glad to get these major cleaning milestones out of the way-- because the more I know I have dealt with once and for all, the less guilty I feel when they stomp around all depressed about the 'state of affairs'. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one trying around here... though I need to be careful about feeling so, I do know they are trying their best despite pain and depression.

If you're interested in any of my recent epiphanies, one of them involves a curious observation on my ever-present social ineptitude. I think some of my problem in basic social situations is the inherent etherealness of it-- I am used to dealing with situations in a harsh, crisis-like mode at home, and after a certain point in time, one's thoughts are irrevocably shifted into a deeper sort of process. It's one that has trouble interpreting the simpler stuff because it spends all its time ruminating on deep things, and this thought process just doesn't know how to pull back into shallow waters very well. I feel like I've forgotten how to have a normal conversation, the one that goes 'hi! how are you?' 'fine thanks, and you?' 'I'm fine too.' To me, that is so far from the truth right now, this mythical status of 'being fine'.

The other major revelation I noted revolves around my constant displeasure with my social performance. See, it's integrally related to my writing! I spend huge amounts of my time when writing crafting situations, scenes, dialogue and events-- even when I allow for spontaneous play in the writing, there's still a sense of me being in control all the time ever. In real life, I cannot control how events unfold, or how a conversation will go. This frustrates me, and frightens me, but until now I didn't precisely realize why it did as it related to my so-called occupation. Because if I'm reinforcing one behavior and thought pattern ("I can control this conversation") in the many hours a day and week I write, but have to undo it all whenever I walk into a real life social situation, no wonder I am so frustrated with myself when I try to interact with others. ...I don't necessarily know how to make this all 'better', since I don't want to lose my carefully cultivated planning ability for my writing... but perhaps recognizing this dichotomy and working on better partitioning of the activities might help.

I say all this, but I do want to say that I've been having some wonderful social interactions lately. I still don't do well in large groups, but I've started making friends at church, and the time they take to spend with me on Sundays, outside the home and just hanging out, is priceless to me. I seriously doubt they understand the full extent of what they are able to give me in just inviting me over to lunch consistently. So too will this trip to Switzerland be, and I wonder if those responsible for giving me the opportunity to go realize just what sort of wond'rous thing it really is to me.