My good friend, Sepiru Chris, often found in his charming internet abode, e-Cuneiform Scratchings, has nominated me for an award!
I have an unconventional way to thank him, however, and I was hoping some of you could help me with it.
Might I encourage those of you who are willing to please pop by Chris' blog and tell him ONE WEIRD AND INTERESTING THING.
About anything! The science of heroin addiction, the emotional cost of pro wrestling, how best to cook testicles--anything at all. Chris is an exuberant person who loves life and the whole world, but he seems to love learning more than anything, so please go tell him something he doesn't know, and he'll probably be thrilled to hear about it!
Thank you so much to all of you who are kind enough to do this; hit the link below to head over there, and feel free to say I sent you.
"BAMF! on over to Chris' place"
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
PHC Meta-Update | Agents, Allergies, and the Awesomeness of Experts
Thanks to McKoala's cleverness, the Public Humiliation Challenge updates are now sequestered to the sidebar. Huzzah! Your Google Reader shall be spammed no more! Of course, the B. S. Haiku will also be rarer. Yes, I'm sure you're all crushed.
I have also included links to the PHC badges, since I made them and am geekily proud of them. Feel free to snarfle these if you wish to join the challenge. (And come on; lookit dat oochy-coochy koala--don't you want to join just to have her on your sidebar?)
~~~~~~~
I had my first drink in fifteen years on Wednesday. That makes it sound like I'm an alcoholic who has just fallen off the wagon, but the truth is a margin weirder and not at all alarming. I stopped drinking alcohol because it made me feel sick--but a lot of things were making me sick at the time.
In my mid-twenties, I started having health issues with my gut (the less said, the better), and a series of invasive and uncomfortable medical tests left me,
1) still not knowing what was wrong, and
2) disinclined to go see any more doctors.
About ten years later, it was getting to the point I didn't see how I could continue living normally, i.e. hold down a job, etc., if I didn't get this sorted out. I wasn't in good shape.
A gentle and understanding GP sent me to a very smart GE specialist, who didn't put me through the painful tests again, but instead examined all the evidence and then gave me the most helpful "I can't help you" statement I've ever heard. He said, "I don't know what this is. Try an allergist."
Even now, I'm shocked at how quickly my years-long trouble wrapped itself up. The allergist listened to my woes, prescribed a medication and--with a few caveats--I've been fine ever since. I am so damned grateful for this.
Now to swing it all around to writing: When Nathan Bransford was on the Book Roast this past week, it gave me another opportunity to think kind thoughts at the man. As you might know, if Nathan rejects your query, you can email him and give him permission to critique it on his blog, and he might decide to do so.
He did this for me, and that experience had a lot in common with, "I don't know what this is. Try an allergist." At the time, hearing what Nathan had to say made me pretty unhappy, but it also sorted out my problems fast. I rewrote the opening scene of my novel and had an offer from my agent, Eleanor Wood of Spectrum Literary Agency, as soon as she finished reading the full. I had racked up about 25 rejections, with only one request for a partial, prior to that. Nathan? I am so damned grateful for that critique.
Publishing can move pretty slowly. It's been almost a year since I signed on with my agent, so although I don't believe in posting details unless there's real news, I thought I'd give you an update on the book. Last I heard, there are two editors interested, but they both have to get an okay from higher up in the company before they can make an offer. Given the state of the publishing industry in today's economy, nothing is certain, but keep your fingers crossed for me!
Having my first belt of rum in fifteen years was not, in fact, correlated with the above; I just wanted to see if I could do it. It's taken me a while to get braver about trying things I know used to cause me pain, but I am getting there.
Hard liquor still tastes really bad, however. Pity I'm still allergic to wine and beer. If and when my book sells, I shall toast that fact with chocolate!
I have also included links to the PHC badges, since I made them and am geekily proud of them. Feel free to snarfle these if you wish to join the challenge. (And come on; lookit dat oochy-coochy koala--don't you want to join just to have her on your sidebar?)
~~~~~~~
I had my first drink in fifteen years on Wednesday. That makes it sound like I'm an alcoholic who has just fallen off the wagon, but the truth is a margin weirder and not at all alarming. I stopped drinking alcohol because it made me feel sick--but a lot of things were making me sick at the time.
In my mid-twenties, I started having health issues with my gut (the less said, the better), and a series of invasive and uncomfortable medical tests left me,
1) still not knowing what was wrong, and
2) disinclined to go see any more doctors.
About ten years later, it was getting to the point I didn't see how I could continue living normally, i.e. hold down a job, etc., if I didn't get this sorted out. I wasn't in good shape.
A gentle and understanding GP sent me to a very smart GE specialist, who didn't put me through the painful tests again, but instead examined all the evidence and then gave me the most helpful "I can't help you" statement I've ever heard. He said, "I don't know what this is. Try an allergist."
Even now, I'm shocked at how quickly my years-long trouble wrapped itself up. The allergist listened to my woes, prescribed a medication and--with a few caveats--I've been fine ever since. I am so damned grateful for this.
Now to swing it all around to writing: When Nathan Bransford was on the Book Roast this past week, it gave me another opportunity to think kind thoughts at the man. As you might know, if Nathan rejects your query, you can email him and give him permission to critique it on his blog, and he might decide to do so.
He did this for me, and that experience had a lot in common with, "I don't know what this is. Try an allergist." At the time, hearing what Nathan had to say made me pretty unhappy, but it also sorted out my problems fast. I rewrote the opening scene of my novel and had an offer from my agent, Eleanor Wood of Spectrum Literary Agency, as soon as she finished reading the full. I had racked up about 25 rejections, with only one request for a partial, prior to that. Nathan? I am so damned grateful for that critique.
Publishing can move pretty slowly. It's been almost a year since I signed on with my agent, so although I don't believe in posting details unless there's real news, I thought I'd give you an update on the book. Last I heard, there are two editors interested, but they both have to get an okay from higher up in the company before they can make an offer. Given the state of the publishing industry in today's economy, nothing is certain, but keep your fingers crossed for me!
Having my first belt of rum in fifteen years was not, in fact, correlated with the above; I just wanted to see if I could do it. It's taken me a while to get braver about trying things I know used to cause me pain, but I am getting there.
Hard liquor still tastes really bad, however. Pity I'm still allergic to wine and beer. If and when my book sells, I shall toast that fact with chocolate!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Three Word Wednesday
PJD has challenged me to another haiku-off!
Hmm...intimidating, given his recent (Jan 20) win in the Clarity of Night contest...
(But congratulations again, PJD!)
Edit: Consider these two stanzas to be one poem.
Humble scientist
Struggle to hear the cadence
Of reality
Worship the beauty
In your oddball, nebbish way
Resolve this fine view
Hmm...intimidating, given his recent (Jan 20) win in the Clarity of Night contest...
(But congratulations again, PJD!)
Edit: Consider these two stanzas to be one poem.
Humble scientist
Struggle to hear the cadence
Of reality
Worship the beauty
In your oddball, nebbish way
Resolve this fine view
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Save It For Your Interviews
A fast way to get ridiculed in an art class is to complain that your grade should be adjusted upward because you worked really hard on whatever project earned you that grade. The reason why is, when it comes to art, the final product is all that matters. No one cares whether you worked for years on a piece, or slapped it out in thirty seconds; if it's great art, then it's great art. Sweat-of-the-brow counts for nothing.
This holds true for most arts, which is probably why the arts have a reputation for harbouring divas, flakes, nutbars, and addicts. As long as a person produces good art, the customer is happy and that forgives a lot.
In contrast, many companies are introducing "No Assholes Allowed" policies because they've realized no matter how talented an individual is, if they're demoralizing others and poisoning the work environment to the point that qualified employees quit, then that person financially harms the company more than they help it.
Of course, a company relies on many people working together to produce a final result. In contrast, when the financial life of a project depends on a single star who is an irreplaceable juggernaut of talent, then everyone else just has to suck it up if that star also happens to an asshole.
That's not to say there isn't a recoil that affects the asshole and his/her career, mind you.
A lot of the companies that have instituted "No Assholes Allowed" policies also refuse to work with clients who are assholes. This is pretty striking behaviour for a money-making venture: they turn down business from people who harass or abuse their employees.
The reason why is the company is more productive, and thus more profitable, when their employees are happy. Morale is that important.
This is interesting because it applies to artists--such as writers--who need to work with others in order to sell their work. If you're a published writer, and also a Harridan Whom All Loathe, then the publishing house functions less effectively when its people have to deal with you. What if your jerkishness translates into less feedback from your editor? Less enthusiasm from the marketing and publicity departments?
And what if, when the house is looking to cut a few authors (which they might be inclined to, in these economic times), no one is willing to champion your work in-house?
Any of us can be writers; all that's required is that we write. To be published, however, means you turn writing into a profession, and that implies you should be professional. Being talented is not correlated with being an asshole--you can be one and not the other--but more importantly, being an asshole never helps your career. Never.
So choose to be professional. You're free to be a gloriously flakey or curmudgeonly writer; just do it on your own time.
Or when you get interviewed. Hey; everyone loves a character.
This holds true for most arts, which is probably why the arts have a reputation for harbouring divas, flakes, nutbars, and addicts. As long as a person produces good art, the customer is happy and that forgives a lot.
In contrast, many companies are introducing "No Assholes Allowed" policies because they've realized no matter how talented an individual is, if they're demoralizing others and poisoning the work environment to the point that qualified employees quit, then that person financially harms the company more than they help it.
Of course, a company relies on many people working together to produce a final result. In contrast, when the financial life of a project depends on a single star who is an irreplaceable juggernaut of talent, then everyone else just has to suck it up if that star also happens to an asshole.
That's not to say there isn't a recoil that affects the asshole and his/her career, mind you.
A lot of the companies that have instituted "No Assholes Allowed" policies also refuse to work with clients who are assholes. This is pretty striking behaviour for a money-making venture: they turn down business from people who harass or abuse their employees.
The reason why is the company is more productive, and thus more profitable, when their employees are happy. Morale is that important.
This is interesting because it applies to artists--such as writers--who need to work with others in order to sell their work. If you're a published writer, and also a Harridan Whom All Loathe, then the publishing house functions less effectively when its people have to deal with you. What if your jerkishness translates into less feedback from your editor? Less enthusiasm from the marketing and publicity departments?
And what if, when the house is looking to cut a few authors (which they might be inclined to, in these economic times), no one is willing to champion your work in-house?
Any of us can be writers; all that's required is that we write. To be published, however, means you turn writing into a profession, and that implies you should be professional. Being talented is not correlated with being an asshole--you can be one and not the other--but more importantly, being an asshole never helps your career. Never.
So choose to be professional. You're free to be a gloriously flakey or curmudgeonly writer; just do it on your own time.
Or when you get interviewed. Hey; everyone loves a character.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
McKoala's Public Humiliation Challenge
Help! Help! A Koala is kicking my butt!
First PJD throws down the gauntlet, and now McKoala.
The Tartan Eucalyptus-Eater is sponsoring the all-new, all-awesome Public Humiliation Challenge for writers!
No prizes; just pain. Put your daily word count at the top of your blog post, and the Koalanatrix expects you to crack 100 words, six days a week, or else!
*looks at clock* Um. Be right back.
Pre-Midnight Edit: 180 words. Phew; no marsupial-claw nightmares tonight!
First PJD throws down the gauntlet, and now McKoala.
The Tartan Eucalyptus-Eater is sponsoring the all-new, all-awesome Public Humiliation Challenge for writers!
No prizes; just pain. Put your daily word count at the top of your blog post, and the Koalanatrix expects you to crack 100 words, six days a week, or else!
*looks at clock* Um. Be right back.
Pre-Midnight Edit: 180 words. Phew; no marsupial-claw nightmares tonight!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
He-Who-Shan't-Be-Named Isn't Crazy (Me, On the Other Hand...)
So how do I look? Yeah, I know my makeup's a bit heavy. This guy, Vermeer, did it for me (and loaned me the earrings.) Specifically, what do you think of my hair? Does it look okay?
(Link to the big version)
Because I haven't shampooed it since Nov. 30th, 2008.
WAIT! That's not to say I don't wash my hair--I DO. Every second day, in fact. I just haven't been using shampoo.
Yes, curiosity (maybe) killed Shroedinger's cat. I was so startled by the idea of "self-washing hair" that I decided to try it as an experiment.
Recap: "Self-washing" hair is what you're supposed to get if you wash your hair in water only, i.e. no shampoo. After an approximately-six-week transition period, your hair stops looking disgusting and starts looking clean and fluffy again--with the added bonus that it's supposed to be much healthier too.
Now, I don't know if I got to the "self-washing" stage, for reasons I'll explain below, but I did discover you can get your hair completely clean without using shampoo.
Confession time: I tried to do this the correct way, but alas. I am weak. Washing my hair in only water left it looking much better than I would have predicted, but it didn't look good. Although that is expected--that's the transition state--I just couldn't stand the way my hair looked.
So I started washing it in conditioner. Specifically, I would give my hair a good scrub with water only, then repeat that using conditioner, and then I would rinse.
And holy Hans Fassbinder, that worked incredibly well. My hair was literally squeaky-clean afterward, with no shampoo involved, and it was much shinier and more manageable than I'm used to.
If you think about it, the water washes out everything that's water-based, like sweat and dirt, and the conditioner washes out everything that's oil-based, like your hair's natural oils. There shouldn't be anything else. (Although I can't vouch for how well this cleans off hair product, since I don't use any.)
The photo above (minus the paint and pearls) was taken about twenty-four hours after my last shower, and as you can see, my hair still looks clean andfrizzy fluffy.
I'm at the six-week point. I don't know if I've got "self-washing" hair, because I haven't been doing this correctly. You're supposed to only use water on your hair and brush it often to distribute your natural oils. I said "To hell with natural oils" and used conditioner to take them all off.
However, I've noticed a change lately. Washing in conditioner did clean my hair really well, but for most of the past six weeks, the effect didn't last as long as I wanted. My hair would look good the first day after I showered, but on the second day, it began to look lank and stringy.
Just this past week, however, that oily-second-day has gone away. Now my hair looks great both days and could even go a third. Do I have "self-washing" hair? I don't know, but I like what I'm seeing enough to keep doing this. It's cheaper, better for the environment, yadda, yadda, yadda.
My hair is shinier, so I assume it's healthier--but I know my scalp is healthier. I used to always use Head and Shoulders™, because if I switched to another shampoo, I would get dandruff within a week.
Hey-ho, it's been six weeks and I don't have any dandruff yet. That implies it was the shampoo causing the dandruff in the first place, and my scalp is perfectly healthy if I just don't put detergents on it.
Yup, I'm nuts. The scientist in me was intrigued by this idea, so I ran the experiment, and now the ditzy airhead in me is delighted: I'm liking my hair, I'm feeling all smug and superior about just what a clever ditz I am, and best of all--El Husbando never even suspected.
Muhahaha!
(Link to the big version)
Because I haven't shampooed it since Nov. 30th, 2008.
WAIT! That's not to say I don't wash my hair--I DO. Every second day, in fact. I just haven't been using shampoo.
Yes, curiosity (maybe) killed Shroedinger's cat. I was so startled by the idea of "self-washing hair" that I decided to try it as an experiment.
Recap: "Self-washing" hair is what you're supposed to get if you wash your hair in water only, i.e. no shampoo. After an approximately-six-week transition period, your hair stops looking disgusting and starts looking clean and fluffy again--with the added bonus that it's supposed to be much healthier too.
Now, I don't know if I got to the "self-washing" stage, for reasons I'll explain below, but I did discover you can get your hair completely clean without using shampoo.
Confession time: I tried to do this the correct way, but alas. I am weak. Washing my hair in only water left it looking much better than I would have predicted, but it didn't look good. Although that is expected--that's the transition state--I just couldn't stand the way my hair looked.
So I started washing it in conditioner. Specifically, I would give my hair a good scrub with water only, then repeat that using conditioner, and then I would rinse.
And holy Hans Fassbinder, that worked incredibly well. My hair was literally squeaky-clean afterward, with no shampoo involved, and it was much shinier and more manageable than I'm used to.
If you think about it, the water washes out everything that's water-based, like sweat and dirt, and the conditioner washes out everything that's oil-based, like your hair's natural oils. There shouldn't be anything else. (Although I can't vouch for how well this cleans off hair product, since I don't use any.)
The photo above (minus the paint and pearls) was taken about twenty-four hours after my last shower, and as you can see, my hair still looks clean and
I'm at the six-week point. I don't know if I've got "self-washing" hair, because I haven't been doing this correctly. You're supposed to only use water on your hair and brush it often to distribute your natural oils. I said "To hell with natural oils" and used conditioner to take them all off.
However, I've noticed a change lately. Washing in conditioner did clean my hair really well, but for most of the past six weeks, the effect didn't last as long as I wanted. My hair would look good the first day after I showered, but on the second day, it began to look lank and stringy.
Just this past week, however, that oily-second-day has gone away. Now my hair looks great both days and could even go a third. Do I have "self-washing" hair? I don't know, but I like what I'm seeing enough to keep doing this. It's cheaper, better for the environment, yadda, yadda, yadda.
My hair is shinier, so I assume it's healthier--but I know my scalp is healthier. I used to always use Head and Shoulders™, because if I switched to another shampoo, I would get dandruff within a week.
Hey-ho, it's been six weeks and I don't have any dandruff yet. That implies it was the shampoo causing the dandruff in the first place, and my scalp is perfectly healthy if I just don't put detergents on it.
Yup, I'm nuts. The scientist in me was intrigued by this idea, so I ran the experiment, and now the ditzy airhead in me is delighted: I'm liking my hair, I'm feeling all smug and superior about just what a clever ditz I am, and best of all--El Husbando never even suspected.
Muhahaha!
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Gallery of B. S. Haiku
(Ahem; that stands for Blank Space Haiku, of course.)
Oxyjen, Feb. 22, 2009
Ode to an Oversized WIP:
Corpulent beastie
I fear your creeping bloat-ass
Stop stuffing your face
Dead Dishwasher
If we bought Maytag
instead of mayfly, we'd have
time to know you well
Farewell, dishwasher
May you reincarnate as
a Hummer next time
Buying a Condo in Springtime
Feed upon the flesh
of subprime mortgage corpses
We're proud to be ghouls
~~~~~~~
PJD's latest challenge:
Form a haiku with the words "Try an allergist" 26/01/2009
"try an allergist"
it's become my new motto
new mottos... how bourgeois
~~~~~~~
Sepiru Chris's response:
Try an allergist...
They clean the hard to reach teeth.
The Crocodile smirks.
~~~~~~~
OxyJen's response:
"Try an allergist"
Is a really tricky prompt
You're a crafty one
Will this undo me?
Will PJD laugh at me?
No--I must prevail
*deep breath*
Surgeons are stringy
For a tender cut of meat
Try an allergist
From OxyJen, 23/01/2009
The good-deed Goblin
Pleased mighty McKoala
And earned a gold star
From OxyJen, 22/01/2009
Yeah, once more, Asshole.
Pull that fire alarm for the
laughs. We just love it.
From Sepiru Chris, 21/01/2009
Explanation for delayed responses:
My prolixity
slowed creativity; my
brain froze shut in fear.
~~~~~~~
Usefulness of big words (in two parts):
(Part 1)
Floccinaucini-
hilipilification
so big it just fit.
(Part 2)
Don't estimate as
worthless. Utility is
always in our mind.
~~~~~~~
Rules for making Haiku:
1: Five syllables.
2: Write seven more for fun.
3. Repeat 1. Done.
From PJD, 21/01/2009
(Response to OxyJen's poem from 20/01/2009)
those poor engineers
they're easily terrified
by girls and sunlight
From OxyJen, 21/01/2009
Humble scientist
Struggle to hear the cadence
Of reality
Worship the beauty
In your oddball, nebbish way
Resolve this fine view
From OxyJen, 20/01/2009
I spent this morning
Terrifying engineers.
They're cute when they're small
From PJD, 19/01/2009
pistols at sunrise
are for cowardly sissies
haiku duels take guts
~~~~~~~~
OxyJen's response:
But I'm such a yutz!
You people are, like, artistes.
Still. You're on, buddy.
From OxyJen, 19/01/2009
Marsupial claws
Tip-tap outside my thin door
I sweat as I type
The claws are silent
But the silence is pregnant
Hear it listening
From OxyJen, 18/01/2009
All socked in, fog-bound
No chores, no demands, grey day
Good time to sleep in
~~~~~~~
The pearl of the sky
Turns blue after three days' fog
The city lights up
From OxyJen, 16/01/2009
Beer-y fragrance wafts
Smell that tang of thriving life?
Please take out the trash
From PJD, 07/01/2009
it's three word wednesday
pit your haiku against mine
do you have the guts?
OxyJen's response to the above challenge:
You don't want to see
my guts stand and deliver.
Not a pretty sight.
From Virginia Lady, 07/01/2009
I don't do Haiku
But you can certainly write
Good B S Haiku
From Ello, 06/01/2009
I have no
Good haiku for you
Only bad
hee hee
From OxyJen, 04/01/2009
It's snowing again
Are you certain I can't whine?
My toes are chilly
Seriously, did
we forget to pay a bill?
More snow. Lots of it
It's like someone took
Frosty's name in vain, and now
his mom is pissed off
Oxyjen, Feb. 22, 2009
Ode to an Oversized WIP:
Corpulent beastie
I fear your creeping bloat-ass
Stop stuffing your face
Dead Dishwasher
If we bought Maytag
instead of mayfly, we'd have
time to know you well
Farewell, dishwasher
May you reincarnate as
a Hummer next time
Buying a Condo in Springtime
Feed upon the flesh
of subprime mortgage corpses
We're proud to be ghouls
~~~~~~~
PJD's latest challenge:
Form a haiku with the words "Try an allergist" 26/01/2009
"try an allergist"
it's become my new motto
new mottos... how bourgeois
~~~~~~~
Sepiru Chris's response:
Try an allergist...
They clean the hard to reach teeth.
The Crocodile smirks.
~~~~~~~
OxyJen's response:
"Try an allergist"
Is a really tricky prompt
You're a crafty one
Will this undo me?
Will PJD laugh at me?
No--I must prevail
*deep breath*
Surgeons are stringy
For a tender cut of meat
Try an allergist
From OxyJen, 23/01/2009
The good-deed Goblin
Pleased mighty McKoala
And earned a gold star
From OxyJen, 22/01/2009
Yeah, once more, Asshole.
Pull that fire alarm for the
laughs. We just love it.
From Sepiru Chris, 21/01/2009
Explanation for delayed responses:
My prolixity
slowed creativity; my
brain froze shut in fear.
~~~~~~~
Usefulness of big words (in two parts):
(Part 1)
Floccinaucini-
hilipilification
so big it just fit.
(Part 2)
Don't estimate as
worthless. Utility is
always in our mind.
~~~~~~~
Rules for making Haiku:
1: Five syllables.
2: Write seven more for fun.
3. Repeat 1. Done.
From PJD, 21/01/2009
(Response to OxyJen's poem from 20/01/2009)
those poor engineers
they're easily terrified
by girls and sunlight
From OxyJen, 21/01/2009
Humble scientist
Struggle to hear the cadence
Of reality
Worship the beauty
In your oddball, nebbish way
Resolve this fine view
From OxyJen, 20/01/2009
I spent this morning
Terrifying engineers.
They're cute when they're small
From PJD, 19/01/2009
pistols at sunrise
are for cowardly sissies
haiku duels take guts
~~~~~~~~
OxyJen's response:
But I'm such a yutz!
You people are, like, artistes.
Still. You're on, buddy.
From OxyJen, 19/01/2009
Marsupial claws
Tip-tap outside my thin door
I sweat as I type
The claws are silent
But the silence is pregnant
Hear it listening
From OxyJen, 18/01/2009
All socked in, fog-bound
No chores, no demands, grey day
Good time to sleep in
~~~~~~~
The pearl of the sky
Turns blue after three days' fog
The city lights up
From OxyJen, 16/01/2009
Beer-y fragrance wafts
Smell that tang of thriving life?
Please take out the trash
From PJD, 07/01/2009
it's three word wednesday
pit your haiku against mine
do you have the guts?
OxyJen's response to the above challenge:
You don't want to see
my guts stand and deliver.
Not a pretty sight.
From Virginia Lady, 07/01/2009
I don't do Haiku
But you can certainly write
Good B S Haiku
From Ello, 06/01/2009
I have no
Good haiku for you
Only bad
hee hee
From OxyJen, 04/01/2009
It's snowing again
Are you certain I can't whine?
My toes are chilly
Seriously, did
we forget to pay a bill?
More snow. Lots of it
It's like someone took
Frosty's name in vain, and now
his mom is pissed off
*puffs up feathers and tries to look tough*
PJD has thrown down the poetry gauntlet and challenged me to pit my Three Word Wednesday haiku against his.
Naturally, he's going to completely kick my ass.
Prompt words: Panic, Deception, Scheme
Resulting Travesty of the Noble Art of Poetry:
Without deception,
He fell into a panic
The scheme had no savour
Naturally, he's going to completely kick my ass.
Prompt words: Panic, Deception, Scheme
Resulting Travesty of the Noble Art of Poetry:
Without deception,
He fell into a panic
The scheme had no savour
Sunday, January 04, 2009
The B. S. Haiku
New Year's Resolution 0001: Blog regularly, i.e. once a week, probably on Sunday evenings.
...
Yeah, so I always have trouble coming up with proper blog fodder. Either I have a mind-bolt that demands at least three thousand words to explain, or I can't think of a freakin' thing.
Which is how it works with writing novels also, except the word count is much higher.
So I've come up with my own demented way of attacking the dread' blank page: I write haiku--usually featuring rather rude expressions of frustration and self-mockery.
The point is to get my fingers (and imagination) moving, in hope they will keep moving. After all, a haiku is easily erased, and lo! No more scary blank page to wibble in terror before. Muhahaha! More power to the keyboard-poker.
Which is all a long-winded way of warning you that if I stick to my resolution, you're probably going to see Blank Space Haiku on a regular basis.
It's snowing again
Are you certain I can't whine?
My toes are chilly
Erm. And not that I expect anyone to actually play along with something this silly, but if you ever do find yourself writing a B. S. Haiku? Please pop it into a comment anywhere on the blog, and I'll add it to a separate post that not only glorifies your stunning contribution to the high art of B. S. Haiku, but which also links back to you.
Seriously, did
we forget to pay a bill?
More snow. Lots of it
It's like someone took
Frosty's name in vain, and now
his mom is pissed off
...
Yeah, so I always have trouble coming up with proper blog fodder. Either I have a mind-bolt that demands at least three thousand words to explain, or I can't think of a freakin' thing.
Which is how it works with writing novels also, except the word count is much higher.
So I've come up with my own demented way of attacking the dread' blank page: I write haiku--usually featuring rather rude expressions of frustration and self-mockery.
The point is to get my fingers (and imagination) moving, in hope they will keep moving. After all, a haiku is easily erased, and lo! No more scary blank page to wibble in terror before. Muhahaha! More power to the keyboard-poker.
Which is all a long-winded way of warning you that if I stick to my resolution, you're probably going to see Blank Space Haiku on a regular basis.
It's snowing again
Are you certain I can't whine?
My toes are chilly
Erm. And not that I expect anyone to actually play along with something this silly, but if you ever do find yourself writing a B. S. Haiku? Please pop it into a comment anywhere on the blog, and I'll add it to a separate post that not only glorifies your stunning contribution to the high art of B. S. Haiku, but which also links back to you.
Seriously, did
we forget to pay a bill?
More snow. Lots of it
It's like someone took
Frosty's name in vain, and now
his mom is pissed off
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Happy New Year!
For New Year's Day:
May your hangover be small, and your eyes un-crusty. May the party-wreckage of your living room be manageable, and may all your guests be safe and sober at home now (rather than asleep in your bathtub.)
For the month:
May your waistline hastily recede back to the size of your pants. May the chocolate-induced acne fade before you have to go back to work. May you feel all the hopefulness of approaching spring.
For the year:
May you have a safe and prosperous 2009, full of joy, good health, and great heaping whack-loads of pure fun. May you reach all your goals (writing and otherwise), and may your challenges only be exciting and invigorating ones!
Have a very happy 2009, everyone!
May your hangover be small, and your eyes un-crusty. May the party-wreckage of your living room be manageable, and may all your guests be safe and sober at home now (rather than asleep in your bathtub.)
For the month:
May your waistline hastily recede back to the size of your pants. May the chocolate-induced acne fade before you have to go back to work. May you feel all the hopefulness of approaching spring.
For the year:
May you have a safe and prosperous 2009, full of joy, good health, and great heaping whack-loads of pure fun. May you reach all your goals (writing and otherwise), and may your challenges only be exciting and invigorating ones!
Have a very happy 2009, everyone!
Reading List - 2009
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Books I Read in 2009
(Ratings out of 10 - consider 6 to be the minimum of what I expect a published book to be.)
Child of Fire
by Harry Connolly
Finished book on: Nov 29, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 9
Enjoyability: 8.5
Ha'penny
by Jo Walton
Finished book on: Nov 26, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 6
Enjoyability: 6
The Eternal Prison
by Jeff Somers
Finished book on: Nov 14, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Unseen Academicals
by Terry Pratchett
Finished book on: Nov 11, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
The Blind Assassin
by Margaret Atwood
Finished book on: Nov 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8
Elfland
by Freda Warrington
Finished book on: Oct 30-ish, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Shadow Magic
by Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett
Finished book on: Oct 10, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8.5
The Drowning City
by Amanda Downum
Finished book on: Oct 6, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Eifelheim
by Michael Flynn
Finished book on: Sept 15, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8
American Psycho
by Bret Easton Ellis
Finished book on: July 27, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Silver Wolf
by Alice Borchardt
Finished book on: July 4, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 8
Less Than Zero
by Bret Easton Ellis
Finished book on: July 3, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 6
Enjoyability: 7
Bright Lights, Big City
by Jay McInerney
Finished book on: June 17, 2009
Quality of writing: 9
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
The Da Vinci Code
by Dan Brown
Finished book on: June 15, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Forest of Hands and Teeth
by Carrie Ryan
Finished book on: June 5, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Digital Plague
by Jeff Somers
Finished book on: June 5, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
God of Clocks
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: May 31, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 8
Turn Coat
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 23, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8.5
Small Favor
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 19, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Blood Rites
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 17, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Death Masks
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 16, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Summer Knight
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 13, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Odd Hours
by Dean Koontz
Finished book on: May 10, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
The Apocalypse Door
by James D. MacDonald
Finished book on: May 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 6.5
Enjoyability: 6.5
Grave Peril
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Apr 26, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8.5
Servant of the Bones
by Anne Rice
Finished book on: Apr 24, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 6.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Lye Street
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: Apr 9, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7
Venus Preserved
by Tanith Lee
Finished book on: Apr 6, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Saint Fire
by Tanith Lee
Finished book on: Mar 29, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 8
Iron Angel
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: Mar 26, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Comment: This writer has only published two books, but they're both amazingly imaginative. His world-building is jaw-dropping!
War for the Oaks
by Emma Bull
Finished book on: Mar 19, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 7.5
Princeps' Fury
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Mar 14, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Captain's Fury
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Mar 5, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Proven Guilty
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Feb 21, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Dead Beat
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Feb 17, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
White Night
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Feb 12, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
The Vampyricon: The Lady of Serpents
by Douglas Clegg
Finished book on: Feb 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Andromeda Strain
by Michael Crichton
Finished book on: Jan 25, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7
Scar Night
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: Jan 16, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Dragonhaven
by Robin McKinley
Finished book on: Jan 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 6
Quality of story: 5
Enjoyability: 5.5
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Books I Didn't Finish
Shinigami: God of Death
by Django Wexler
Stopped reading: pg. 15
Reason: I wasn't getting into the story.
Solitaire
by Kelley Eskridge
Stopped reading: pg. 15
Reason: So far it's all backstory and a privileged protagonist feeling angsty. I would have liked some plot sooner.
Ragamuffin
by Tobias Buckell
Stopped reading: Unknown, maybe 50 pages in?
Reason: It was actually really good, but I had other books on my TBR pile that I was more excited about getting to, and Ragamuffin was coming due at the library. I'll probably check it out again sometime and finish it.
Roots
by Alex Haley
Stopped reading: pg. 7
Reason: Obviously well-written, but not my cup of tea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Books I Read in 2009
(Ratings out of 10 - consider 6 to be the minimum of what I expect a published book to be.)
Child of Fire
by Harry Connolly
Finished book on: Nov 29, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 9
Enjoyability: 8.5
Ha'penny
by Jo Walton
Finished book on: Nov 26, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 6
Enjoyability: 6
The Eternal Prison
by Jeff Somers
Finished book on: Nov 14, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Unseen Academicals
by Terry Pratchett
Finished book on: Nov 11, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
The Blind Assassin
by Margaret Atwood
Finished book on: Nov 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8
Elfland
by Freda Warrington
Finished book on: Oct 30-ish, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Shadow Magic
by Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett
Finished book on: Oct 10, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8.5
The Drowning City
by Amanda Downum
Finished book on: Oct 6, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Eifelheim
by Michael Flynn
Finished book on: Sept 15, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8
American Psycho
by Bret Easton Ellis
Finished book on: July 27, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Silver Wolf
by Alice Borchardt
Finished book on: July 4, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 8
Less Than Zero
by Bret Easton Ellis
Finished book on: July 3, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 6
Enjoyability: 7
Bright Lights, Big City
by Jay McInerney
Finished book on: June 17, 2009
Quality of writing: 9
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
The Da Vinci Code
by Dan Brown
Finished book on: June 15, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Forest of Hands and Teeth
by Carrie Ryan
Finished book on: June 5, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Digital Plague
by Jeff Somers
Finished book on: June 5, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
God of Clocks
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: May 31, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 8
Turn Coat
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 23, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8.5
Small Favor
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 19, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Blood Rites
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 17, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Death Masks
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 16, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Summer Knight
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: May 13, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
Odd Hours
by Dean Koontz
Finished book on: May 10, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
The Apocalypse Door
by James D. MacDonald
Finished book on: May 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 6.5
Enjoyability: 6.5
Grave Peril
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Apr 26, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8.5
Enjoyability: 8.5
Servant of the Bones
by Anne Rice
Finished book on: Apr 24, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 6.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Lye Street
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: Apr 9, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7
Venus Preserved
by Tanith Lee
Finished book on: Apr 6, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Saint Fire
by Tanith Lee
Finished book on: Mar 29, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 8
Iron Angel
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: Mar 26, 2009
Quality of writing: 8.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Comment: This writer has only published two books, but they're both amazingly imaginative. His world-building is jaw-dropping!
War for the Oaks
by Emma Bull
Finished book on: Mar 19, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 7.5
Princeps' Fury
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Mar 14, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Captain's Fury
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Mar 5, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Proven Guilty
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Feb 21, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
Dead Beat
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Feb 17, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8.5
White Night
by Jim Butcher
Finished book on: Feb 12, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 8
Enjoyability: 8
The Vampyricon: The Lady of Serpents
by Douglas Clegg
Finished book on: Feb 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 8
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7.5
The Andromeda Strain
by Michael Crichton
Finished book on: Jan 25, 2009
Quality of writing: 7
Quality of story: 7
Enjoyability: 7
Scar Night
by Alan Campbell
Finished book on: Jan 16, 2009
Quality of writing: 7.5
Quality of story: 7.5
Enjoyability: 7.5
Dragonhaven
by Robin McKinley
Finished book on: Jan 7, 2009
Quality of writing: 6
Quality of story: 5
Enjoyability: 5.5
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Books I Didn't Finish
Shinigami: God of Death
by Django Wexler
Stopped reading: pg. 15
Reason: I wasn't getting into the story.
Solitaire
by Kelley Eskridge
Stopped reading: pg. 15
Reason: So far it's all backstory and a privileged protagonist feeling angsty. I would have liked some plot sooner.
Ragamuffin
by Tobias Buckell
Stopped reading: Unknown, maybe 50 pages in?
Reason: It was actually really good, but I had other books on my TBR pile that I was more excited about getting to, and Ragamuffin was coming due at the library. I'll probably check it out again sometime and finish it.
Roots
by Alex Haley
Stopped reading: pg. 7
Reason: Obviously well-written, but not my cup of tea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Attack of the Albino Brain Chiggers**
**Joke shamelessly stolen from Third Rock From the Sun.
Oh, my goodness.
That last snowfall warning I told you about dumped up to 70 cm on my city, although it packed down to about a foot in most places, and we got a thaw Monday afternoon that made the roads passable. However, now it's blanketing down again.
I'll reiterate that I live in the one magical little corner of Canada that doesn't get snow. Supposedly.
Yesterday, I saw a car with a mohawk (the driver tried to swipe the roof clear, but couldn't reach the middle, so: snow mohawk), and today I can't see anything; the buildings are grey shadows with white static falling in front of them and an erased world behind them.
Nothing is going to move today; not buses, not cars, not planes, and probably not even pedestrians. I feel so sorry for the people who had planned to travel for the holidays. If you're one of those, please have an internet hug and a virtual rum toddy from me.
~~~~~~~
What it looks like right now:
A more typical winter day:
The Albino Brain Chiggers have eaten the cars:
Oh, my goodness.
That last snowfall warning I told you about dumped up to 70 cm on my city, although it packed down to about a foot in most places, and we got a thaw Monday afternoon that made the roads passable. However, now it's blanketing down again.
I'll reiterate that I live in the one magical little corner of Canada that doesn't get snow. Supposedly.
Yesterday, I saw a car with a mohawk (the driver tried to swipe the roof clear, but couldn't reach the middle, so: snow mohawk), and today I can't see anything; the buildings are grey shadows with white static falling in front of them and an erased world behind them.
Nothing is going to move today; not buses, not cars, not planes, and probably not even pedestrians. I feel so sorry for the people who had planned to travel for the holidays. If you're one of those, please have an internet hug and a virtual rum toddy from me.
~~~~~~~
What it looks like right now:
A more typical winter day:
The Albino Brain Chiggers have eaten the cars:
Saturday, December 20, 2008
*sings* It's beginning to look a lot like hypothermia...
El Husbando's computer wallpaper shows a composite satellite image of the Earth with the current weather superimposed over it. A few days ago, clouds obscured most of North America. Basically, the whole continent had a snowstorm.
I live in the one small corner of Canada that consistently doesn't get snow, but we've had it for a week now, and it shows no signs of going away. The temperature is currently about -10 C (14 F).
I happen to be a very efficient heat exchanger when it comes to my environment, i.e. I'm a cold wimp. While most of Canada considers -10 C a laughably balmy winter temperature, it's freakin' freezing to me. At least I grew up on the prairies, and even spent four years of my childhood in Yellowknife, so I know I'm just a wimp.
I'm in good company, in that regard. In the snow, my city entertains. We just don't have the tools to deal with this invasion of angel dandruff. We haven't ice scrapers for windshields, snow shovels for sidewalks, winter tires, proper clothing, or nearly enough snowplows in the city.
Traffic becomes a ballet of pirouetting cars. The tires sing every morning, sounding like herds of drunken sleeping bags unzipping themselves. Every hill peers down its nose at little clusters of vehicles, watching as the drivers whir bravely toward its summit, only to slalom down backward again. One bus driver had to ask his passengers to cluster over the rear axle so he could finish his route.
In the snow, My usually-trendy city loses its fashion mind. High-heeled leather boots are paired with bobble hats and mittens. Long formal coats strain and bulge over the lumps created by four layers of sweaters. People hustle down the street, their hands knotted over their nose or slapping their ears flat to their skull.
Yup. It's a winter wonderland.
The thing that's most amusing is while the locals struggle with the snow, they also find it genuinely exciting. Snow is rare, and pretty, and they associate it with skiing, which is fun. I'm an old grump about the white stuff, but I'm certain they enjoy these little blasts of "real" winter.
My family teases me about my long-lost tolerance for cold, of course. My parents live on the prairies, where -40 C (-40 F) might not be nice, but they can deal with it. My brother is in Iceland, which tends to not get much below 0 C (32 F) but has a wind chill that can freeze-dry your eyeballs. My sister lives in Georgia, and she misses the snow.
Especially around this time of year. It'll be a rare white Christmas for me, and only a few years ago, that was the standard for her.
On El Husbando's weather map right now? More clouds. Apparently we've another big dump of snow on the way, and the city is still crippled from the last one. I'm going to dash out (swaddled like baby Jesus; very festive, n'est pas?) and stock up on food and chocolate, because I intend to hibernate this cold snap out.
El Husbando, loony snow-loving local boy that he is, keeps trying to convince me we need to go for a walk.
(PS - Sarflin, I'm wearing that Icelandic wool sweater/coat you bought right now. It's awesome!)
I live in the one small corner of Canada that consistently doesn't get snow, but we've had it for a week now, and it shows no signs of going away. The temperature is currently about -10 C (14 F).
I happen to be a very efficient heat exchanger when it comes to my environment, i.e. I'm a cold wimp. While most of Canada considers -10 C a laughably balmy winter temperature, it's freakin' freezing to me. At least I grew up on the prairies, and even spent four years of my childhood in Yellowknife, so I know I'm just a wimp.
I'm in good company, in that regard. In the snow, my city entertains. We just don't have the tools to deal with this invasion of angel dandruff. We haven't ice scrapers for windshields, snow shovels for sidewalks, winter tires, proper clothing, or nearly enough snowplows in the city.
Traffic becomes a ballet of pirouetting cars. The tires sing every morning, sounding like herds of drunken sleeping bags unzipping themselves. Every hill peers down its nose at little clusters of vehicles, watching as the drivers whir bravely toward its summit, only to slalom down backward again. One bus driver had to ask his passengers to cluster over the rear axle so he could finish his route.
In the snow, My usually-trendy city loses its fashion mind. High-heeled leather boots are paired with bobble hats and mittens. Long formal coats strain and bulge over the lumps created by four layers of sweaters. People hustle down the street, their hands knotted over their nose or slapping their ears flat to their skull.
Yup. It's a winter wonderland.
The thing that's most amusing is while the locals struggle with the snow, they also find it genuinely exciting. Snow is rare, and pretty, and they associate it with skiing, which is fun. I'm an old grump about the white stuff, but I'm certain they enjoy these little blasts of "real" winter.
My family teases me about my long-lost tolerance for cold, of course. My parents live on the prairies, where -40 C (-40 F) might not be nice, but they can deal with it. My brother is in Iceland, which tends to not get much below 0 C (32 F) but has a wind chill that can freeze-dry your eyeballs. My sister lives in Georgia, and she misses the snow.
Especially around this time of year. It'll be a rare white Christmas for me, and only a few years ago, that was the standard for her.
On El Husbando's weather map right now? More clouds. Apparently we've another big dump of snow on the way, and the city is still crippled from the last one. I'm going to dash out (swaddled like baby Jesus; very festive, n'est pas?) and stock up on food and chocolate, because I intend to hibernate this cold snap out.
El Husbando, loony snow-loving local boy that he is, keeps trying to convince me we need to go for a walk.
(PS - Sarflin, I'm wearing that Icelandic wool sweater/coat you bought right now. It's awesome!)
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Crack the WIP | Crack the whip | How do I make it stop? | I'm a geer!
Drive-by blog entry!
Chapter 0001: Writing news
I am over 20,000 words into my current WIP. Hurray for 6 AM!
Chapter 0010: Holiday news
HohohohMyGoodnessWhyHaven'tIStartedMyShoppingYet?
Chapter 0011: Blog news
In desperation, I've gone back to my R0bert Pattins0n entries and removed both his photo and the "o"s in his name (they're zeroes now; the font camouflages this), because until I stop getting traffic for the hunka-hunka, my stat counter is useless.
Darn it, I wanna know about the 10 people here to listen to me yammer! Not the 2000 giving Mr. Drool-Worthy his due. Never again shall I underestimate the preternatural power of that man's unholy hair. *shudder*
Chapter 0100: Work news
They want me to teach an engineering lab next semester. Woe and gnash-gnash-gnashing of toothies. My students are gonna be so much smarter than me it'll be painful.
Chapter 0001: Writing news
I am over 20,000 words into my current WIP. Hurray for 6 AM!
Chapter 0010: Holiday news
HohohohMyGoodnessWhyHaven'tIStartedMyShoppingYet?
Chapter 0011: Blog news
In desperation, I've gone back to my R0bert Pattins0n entries and removed both his photo and the "o"s in his name (they're zeroes now; the font camouflages this), because until I stop getting traffic for the hunka-hunka, my stat counter is useless.
Darn it, I wanna know about the 10 people here to listen to me yammer! Not the 2000 giving Mr. Drool-Worthy his due. Never again shall I underestimate the preternatural power of that man's unholy hair. *shudder*
Chapter 0100: Work news
They want me to teach an engineering lab next semester. Woe and gnash-gnash-gnashing of toothies. My students are gonna be so much smarter than me it'll be painful.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Terror in the Land of Freaky Follicles
My friend Chris prompted me, via his recent blog post regarding the phenomenon of "viral" success on the internet, to go check my website statistics tonight. I hardly ever do this, and it was good that Chris convinced me to, because getting the pants scared off you is great for the circulation.
I average about 10 hits a day, generally. Before I went on blog hiatus a few months back, I got more, but not much more.
Now...remember that silly post about R0bert Pattins0n's hair? *points downward*
That got 853 hits today.
This is in comparison to 63 hits yesterday, and given the post is internet-old (i.e. it was published last Wednesday), you know something freaky just happened.
It turns out a huge majority of the visitors got here via a Google image search for R0bert Pattins0n, so the abrupt success of OxyJen is likely due to my post getting picked up by a web crawler.
Thank my frickin' stars. Who wants to be famous for making fun of someone's hair?
I average about 10 hits a day, generally. Before I went on blog hiatus a few months back, I got more, but not much more.
Now...remember that silly post about R0bert Pattins0n's hair? *points downward*
That got 853 hits today.
This is in comparison to 63 hits yesterday, and given the post is internet-old (i.e. it was published last Wednesday), you know something freaky just happened.
It turns out a huge majority of the visitors got here via a Google image search for R0bert Pattins0n, so the abrupt success of OxyJen is likely due to my post getting picked up by a web crawler.
Thank my frickin' stars. Who wants to be famous for making fun of someone's hair?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
R0bert Pattins0n's Sentient, Self-Washing Hair
I learned something yesterday. It was a subject I'd never even heard of before.
R0bert Pattins0n, by the way, is the male star of the new Twilight movie. For teens, he is the hunka-hunka-du-jour. He also has really crazy-looking hair, and it often doesn't look particulary clean.
But "washing itself"? What the heck?
It turns out this isn't merely the stoned-out ramblings of a starlet-boy. "Self-washing" is a state of hair.
Let me back up, because if I give you the short version of this, you'll just be disgusted and disbelieving. You need to hear everything.
Consider a cat, or a bunny, or a foofy Pomeranian dog. You don't wash your pet every day, right? They only get a bath every few months, and yet a cat's hair (or a bunny's, or a doggie's) always feels soft, clean and glossy and/or fluffy. Why is that? Why don't cats get greasy-hair days?
The answer is that a cat's oil glands, skin and hair have all evolved to keep the cat's fur clean and healthy with nothing more than water-based baths. In the wild, that's all a cat gets. The jungle just ain't got soap.
The thing that is really bizarre--and frankly hard-to-believe for us modern folks--is that human hair is the same way. Because we shampoo regularly, we strip off our natural oils and upset the body's balance. As a result, if we stop shampooing, our hair starts to look greasy and disgusting in a matter of days due to over-production of oil.
Here's where the "self-washing" thing comes in.
Apparently, if you stop using shampoo, but rinse your hair in warm water regularly (for example, every time you shower), then after about six weeks of suffering beneath your greasy, disgusting, smelly mop of hair, your system finally sorts itself out. Your natural balance of oils reasserts itself, and your hair starts looking clean and fluffy again. You've entered the "self-washing" phase.
Of course, your hair doesn't really wash itself. I suspect what happens is the hair shaft becomes so well-moisturized that it swells shut and becomes impervious to dirt. And since most dirt and all sweat-residue is water-soluable, a quick rinse is all that's required to swoosh the yucky-yuck off your impervious hair.
People who do this--and obviously you're only going to hear from those who think "self-washing" is groovy--report their hair is healthier, nicer-looking, and more manageable than it was when they washed it in shampoo, and that no one ever notices the difference, and that scalp problems and dandruff often disappear, and that they're happy to not be spending money on shampoo they don't need or sluicing unnecessary detergents into the environment.
Huh.
On one hand, this "self-washing" thing is fascinating to me because I'd never heard even a whisper about it before.
But on the other, behold R0bert Pattins0n's hair:
Ew. Is that hair gel, or...?
(Picture removed because its presence was doing crazy things to my hit rate, liek woah OMG.)
~~~~~~~
Has anyone here ever had "self-washing" hair, either intentionally or accidentally? If so, what did you think? Does this system actually work? Does it sorta work? Is the phenomenon of "self-washing" hair a sham, or is shampoo the real sham?
As an experiment, I tried just rinsing my hair instead of washing it last night, and then I brushed it heavily once it was dry (which you're supposed to do, to distribute the oils.)
My hair should look disgusting right now, but to be honest, it just doesn't. It's not crazy-flyaway like normal, which is nice, and although it has less luster, it doesn't look dirty at all. I'm truly surprised. El Husbando hasn't noticed anything either, which is great, because when I mentioned "self-washing" to him yesterday, he thought it sounded utterly revolting.
But yeah. I'm probably not going to continue this experiment beyond today.
**warily eyes R0bert Pattins0n's hair**
Edit 10/01/2009: Okay, I lied. I did go through with it. Read this post if you'd like to know what I thought of "self-washing" hair, as well as my best-discovered way of getting through the icky six-week transition stage.
Interviewer: What is all this talk about you not washing your hair for months on end?
R0bert Pattins0n: People are scared of my hair. But it starts washing itself after about three weeks.
R0bert Pattins0n, by the way, is the male star of the new Twilight movie. For teens, he is the hunka-hunka-du-jour. He also has really crazy-looking hair, and it often doesn't look particulary clean.
But "washing itself"? What the heck?
It turns out this isn't merely the stoned-out ramblings of a starlet-boy. "Self-washing" is a state of hair.
Let me back up, because if I give you the short version of this, you'll just be disgusted and disbelieving. You need to hear everything.
Consider a cat, or a bunny, or a foofy Pomeranian dog. You don't wash your pet every day, right? They only get a bath every few months, and yet a cat's hair (or a bunny's, or a doggie's) always feels soft, clean and glossy and/or fluffy. Why is that? Why don't cats get greasy-hair days?
The answer is that a cat's oil glands, skin and hair have all evolved to keep the cat's fur clean and healthy with nothing more than water-based baths. In the wild, that's all a cat gets. The jungle just ain't got soap.
The thing that is really bizarre--and frankly hard-to-believe for us modern folks--is that human hair is the same way. Because we shampoo regularly, we strip off our natural oils and upset the body's balance. As a result, if we stop shampooing, our hair starts to look greasy and disgusting in a matter of days due to over-production of oil.
Here's where the "self-washing" thing comes in.
Apparently, if you stop using shampoo, but rinse your hair in warm water regularly (for example, every time you shower), then after about six weeks of suffering beneath your greasy, disgusting, smelly mop of hair, your system finally sorts itself out. Your natural balance of oils reasserts itself, and your hair starts looking clean and fluffy again. You've entered the "self-washing" phase.
Of course, your hair doesn't really wash itself. I suspect what happens is the hair shaft becomes so well-moisturized that it swells shut and becomes impervious to dirt. And since most dirt and all sweat-residue is water-soluable, a quick rinse is all that's required to swoosh the yucky-yuck off your impervious hair.
People who do this--and obviously you're only going to hear from those who think "self-washing" is groovy--report their hair is healthier, nicer-looking, and more manageable than it was when they washed it in shampoo, and that no one ever notices the difference, and that scalp problems and dandruff often disappear, and that they're happy to not be spending money on shampoo they don't need or sluicing unnecessary detergents into the environment.
Huh.
On one hand, this "self-washing" thing is fascinating to me because I'd never heard even a whisper about it before.
But on the other, behold R0bert Pattins0n's hair:
Ew. Is that hair gel, or...?
(Picture removed because its presence was doing crazy things to my hit rate, liek woah OMG.)
~~~~~~~
Has anyone here ever had "self-washing" hair, either intentionally or accidentally? If so, what did you think? Does this system actually work? Does it sorta work? Is the phenomenon of "self-washing" hair a sham, or is shampoo the real sham?
As an experiment, I tried just rinsing my hair instead of washing it last night, and then I brushed it heavily once it was dry (which you're supposed to do, to distribute the oils.)
My hair should look disgusting right now, but to be honest, it just doesn't. It's not crazy-flyaway like normal, which is nice, and although it has less luster, it doesn't look dirty at all. I'm truly surprised. El Husbando hasn't noticed anything either, which is great, because when I mentioned "self-washing" to him yesterday, he thought it sounded utterly revolting.
But yeah. I'm probably not going to continue this experiment beyond today.
**warily eyes R0bert Pattins0n's hair**
Edit 10/01/2009: Okay, I lied. I did go through with it. Read this post if you'd like to know what I thought of "self-washing" hair, as well as my best-discovered way of getting through the icky six-week transition stage.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Weirdness
I'm steaming my eyeballs tonight.
It's okay; they're still in my head. My eyes have felt very dry lately, even when they're not. Eyedrops don't help, but sticking a mug of hot water under my nose and blowing to force the steam into my peepers is quite soothing. The guys at work must think I have a bladder of titanium, given how much of today I spent looking like I was just in the middle of a sip.
Writing in the early morning is still proving to be an effective habit, although I'm a bit worried it's to blame for the sore eyeballs (Ah hah! You can be allergic to mornings!)
Hmm. I feel like splattering some personal stuff here tonight. I suspect that's why I sat down to blog.
This has been a bit of weird day, and not in a good way, and I'm going to use that to jump off on a weird tangent.
I gave a lab exam this morning, and one of my students came in and gave me...I'll just call it a thoroughly acceptable reason for not being able to write the test. I don't want to give out any of her details, but it involved two deaths in her family since I saw her last. The poor kid looked like she was hanging on by a thread. Then tonight, I found out about a death in my extended family, one that has some worrisome implications for other family members.
This morning I had a mild feeling of dread when I said goodbye to my husband. I'm a bit of an anxious person, so I didn't pay much attention to this, but here's where I veer off on my tangent.
My family's supposed to have a bit of the "sight", as in second sight, or psychic ability. I've always been of the opinion that I didn't get any of it.
Now, before I really get rolling here, let me back up one step. As mentioned, I tend to be anxious, and I have a frolicsome imagination also, so as a child, I was acutely terrified of the world. My brain was quite willing to picture ghouls and aliens and nuclear bombs coming to get me.
When I got older, I discovered the The Skeptical Enquirer, and it really was a liberating experience, because it gave the more rational parts of my brain ammunition to use against my imagination. Now I could now say, "Okay, that's bullshit" to a lot things I'd not been sure of before. It helped me feel a lot braver.
And for the most part, I still think the majority of evidence in favour of the paranormal is bullshit. Usually, these things are either self-delusion or con artistry. I do still count myself as a skeptic. If you tell me you believe in tarot cards or astrology, I will mock you.
So it's a bit odd--and possibly pathetic--that now I'm older still, and I've made a truce with the fact that, y'know, maybe I did get a bit of the family ability? I can rationalize that I'm really deluding myself, but if I listen to this inner detector that is too random to properly test, the statistics don't work out in favour of it being self-delusion.
El Husbando and I tend to not answer our phone during the day because it's usually a telemarketer. However, every now and then, I know it's someone we should talk to and I jump at the phone. I'm not always right, but I usually am. I have been the last four times.
When we were in London recently, my brother called to say his plane was delayed and he didn't know when he'd be joining us at the hotel. El Husbando and I settled down to watch some TV. A time later, I got the strong feeling that I should go down to the lobby and check for my brother. Rationally, I kept thinking, "No, there's no reason why he should be here yet, and even if he is, you'd probably miss him in the elevators." At the same time, I could picture myself finding him in the line-up for the check-in counter.
As I said, I've kind of made peace these hunches. I quietly slipped out and trotted downstairs. Waiting in the line-up for the check-in counter was exactly where I found him.
Walking to the room, my brother asked how I'd known he was in. Embarrassed, I shrugged and said the ol' family psychic ability had given me a tingle. He just nodded and said, "Yeah. I get those too."
My experiences are pretty mild stuff. Here's some of the freakier family stories:
- My dad once looked up from his reading and answered a question my mom hadn't asked yet.
- My grandfather once woke out of a sound sleep, then woke up my grandmother, and told her one of their neighbours had died. It turned out the fellow had, that night.
- That same grandmother dreamed of an almost-car-accident my mom had on the same night the almost-accident happened. The dream upset my grandmother enough she had to call my mom to make sure she was alright.
- My brother once fell asleep in an exam, and woke up when the bell rang. His test was complete. His teacher said he saw my brother put his head down for a minute, but then my brother sat up again and continued writing the exam. The questions my brother remembers answering, he got wrong. All the ones he answered while asleep, he got right.
Like I said, whatever I've got, it's comparatively pretty mild. I can't guide it (it didn't help me in Vegas last time I went), and it's not always correct. It's also often the sort of thing that could just be my subconscious picking up on subtle clues I didn't twig to.
Basically, it's just not very testable, which annoys the scientist in me, but it's bad science to dismiss something as imaginary just because you can't figure out a test for it. Of course, the real reason I'm accepting the hunches at face value these days is I feel like I'm cutting off something important inside me when I try to believe they're not real. Plus, there's little harm in this, because I don't even think about it until I get the "tingle". Hunches do not rule my life, and I do not walk in fear of the uncanny.
Now, how to sum up a post like that? I should have gotten this up in time for Hallowe'en! Goblin LOLs at herself.
Well...how about like this: When I signed on with my agent, she expected a quick sale, and I hoped for one too.
But I had a feeling the book wouldn't sell anytime soon.
Guess what? :-/
It's okay; they're still in my head. My eyes have felt very dry lately, even when they're not. Eyedrops don't help, but sticking a mug of hot water under my nose and blowing to force the steam into my peepers is quite soothing. The guys at work must think I have a bladder of titanium, given how much of today I spent looking like I was just in the middle of a sip.
Writing in the early morning is still proving to be an effective habit, although I'm a bit worried it's to blame for the sore eyeballs (Ah hah! You can be allergic to mornings!)
Hmm. I feel like splattering some personal stuff here tonight. I suspect that's why I sat down to blog.
This has been a bit of weird day, and not in a good way, and I'm going to use that to jump off on a weird tangent.
I gave a lab exam this morning, and one of my students came in and gave me...I'll just call it a thoroughly acceptable reason for not being able to write the test. I don't want to give out any of her details, but it involved two deaths in her family since I saw her last. The poor kid looked like she was hanging on by a thread. Then tonight, I found out about a death in my extended family, one that has some worrisome implications for other family members.
This morning I had a mild feeling of dread when I said goodbye to my husband. I'm a bit of an anxious person, so I didn't pay much attention to this, but here's where I veer off on my tangent.
My family's supposed to have a bit of the "sight", as in second sight, or psychic ability. I've always been of the opinion that I didn't get any of it.
Now, before I really get rolling here, let me back up one step. As mentioned, I tend to be anxious, and I have a frolicsome imagination also, so as a child, I was acutely terrified of the world. My brain was quite willing to picture ghouls and aliens and nuclear bombs coming to get me.
When I got older, I discovered the The Skeptical Enquirer, and it really was a liberating experience, because it gave the more rational parts of my brain ammunition to use against my imagination. Now I could now say, "Okay, that's bullshit" to a lot things I'd not been sure of before. It helped me feel a lot braver.
And for the most part, I still think the majority of evidence in favour of the paranormal is bullshit. Usually, these things are either self-delusion or con artistry. I do still count myself as a skeptic. If you tell me you believe in tarot cards or astrology, I will mock you.
So it's a bit odd--and possibly pathetic--that now I'm older still, and I've made a truce with the fact that, y'know, maybe I did get a bit of the family ability? I can rationalize that I'm really deluding myself, but if I listen to this inner detector that is too random to properly test, the statistics don't work out in favour of it being self-delusion.
El Husbando and I tend to not answer our phone during the day because it's usually a telemarketer. However, every now and then, I know it's someone we should talk to and I jump at the phone. I'm not always right, but I usually am. I have been the last four times.
When we were in London recently, my brother called to say his plane was delayed and he didn't know when he'd be joining us at the hotel. El Husbando and I settled down to watch some TV. A time later, I got the strong feeling that I should go down to the lobby and check for my brother. Rationally, I kept thinking, "No, there's no reason why he should be here yet, and even if he is, you'd probably miss him in the elevators." At the same time, I could picture myself finding him in the line-up for the check-in counter.
As I said, I've kind of made peace these hunches. I quietly slipped out and trotted downstairs. Waiting in the line-up for the check-in counter was exactly where I found him.
Walking to the room, my brother asked how I'd known he was in. Embarrassed, I shrugged and said the ol' family psychic ability had given me a tingle. He just nodded and said, "Yeah. I get those too."
My experiences are pretty mild stuff. Here's some of the freakier family stories:
- My dad once looked up from his reading and answered a question my mom hadn't asked yet.
- My grandfather once woke out of a sound sleep, then woke up my grandmother, and told her one of their neighbours had died. It turned out the fellow had, that night.
- That same grandmother dreamed of an almost-car-accident my mom had on the same night the almost-accident happened. The dream upset my grandmother enough she had to call my mom to make sure she was alright.
- My brother once fell asleep in an exam, and woke up when the bell rang. His test was complete. His teacher said he saw my brother put his head down for a minute, but then my brother sat up again and continued writing the exam. The questions my brother remembers answering, he got wrong. All the ones he answered while asleep, he got right.
Like I said, whatever I've got, it's comparatively pretty mild. I can't guide it (it didn't help me in Vegas last time I went), and it's not always correct. It's also often the sort of thing that could just be my subconscious picking up on subtle clues I didn't twig to.
Basically, it's just not very testable, which annoys the scientist in me, but it's bad science to dismiss something as imaginary just because you can't figure out a test for it. Of course, the real reason I'm accepting the hunches at face value these days is I feel like I'm cutting off something important inside me when I try to believe they're not real. Plus, there's little harm in this, because I don't even think about it until I get the "tingle". Hunches do not rule my life, and I do not walk in fear of the uncanny.
Now, how to sum up a post like that? I should have gotten this up in time for Hallowe'en! Goblin LOLs at herself.
Well...how about like this: When I signed on with my agent, she expected a quick sale, and I hoped for one too.
But I had a feeling the book wouldn't sell anytime soon.
Guess what? :-/
Friday, October 31, 2008
~geeking~
OhMyGoshThisIsAwesome.
1000 ft. under the desert in Mexico, they've discovered a cave filled with enormous crystals.
I mean really enormous. Tree-sized. The longest is 37.5 ft. Wouldn't you love to run around this place?
Unfortunately, the cave stays at 112 °F (50 °C) and has 100% humidity. I don't think they're going to turn this place into Carlsbad Caverns anytime soon.
But wow. This one of those cases where reality did something that you could not put in a book and make people believe was real.
The following YouTube video shows still shots, but they're pretty amazing, regardless.
1000 ft. under the desert in Mexico, they've discovered a cave filled with enormous crystals.
I mean really enormous. Tree-sized. The longest is 37.5 ft. Wouldn't you love to run around this place?
Unfortunately, the cave stays at 112 °F (50 °C) and has 100% humidity. I don't think they're going to turn this place into Carlsbad Caverns anytime soon.
But wow. This one of those cases where reality did something that you could not put in a book and make people believe was real.
The following YouTube video shows still shots, but they're pretty amazing, regardless.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wo ist der Trip Report, bitte?
Oh, goodness. A trip report? Did I really promise a trip report? Just making up the photo album was exhausting. Captions for 800 photos; what on Earth was I thinking.
I think, right now, that I'll actually talk about writing for once.
I've decided. I have committed. Yes: I am willing to suffer for my art.
I--a lifelong night-owl--have been getting up at six a.m. every morning to write before going to work.
This is both fun, and not fun, as you can imagine. On one leg o' the chicken, I finally seem to be getting past the dribbles-and-drabs stage of my new project and the words are beginning to flow. But on the other scratcher-de-la-poulet, we're talking six-freakin-a.m. Every day. Including Sunday morning--and you know that six a.m. on Sunday morning is only supposed to be witnessed by those whose Saturday night has been wonderfully epic and untainted by sleep.
Basically, I feel the same way about early mornings that Travis Erwin feels about vegetables.
~~~~~~~
In other quasi-writing news, I've fallen off the wagon. The internet and I are kanoodling again. This did, however, give me the chance to enjoy Nathan Bransford's recent guest-bloggers' articles. The ones by Michelle Moran (Part 1, Part 2) regarding how to market your book are particularly great, and I do recommend them to all writers.
~~~~~~~
This weekend was the Surrey International Writers' Conference. It's a wonderful conference that focuses on the craft of writing, but I have one expensive trip and two expensive dental surgeries under my belt this fall, so I bailed on attending.
Hmm... Perhaps the very talented and warm-hearted writer Brenda Carre would like to do a guest blog here on OxyJen and tell us what she thought of SiWC 2008? *slides Brenda a hopeful look*
~~~~~~~
This last bit of news is very sad, but important: If you've got a moment, please pop by Sandra Cormier (a.k.a. Chumplet)'s blog and wish her strength. Brandon Crisp, the missing Ontario teenager, is her nephew. If you live in the Barrie region of Ontario, Canada, please consider volunteering to be part of a search party, and if you live in Ontario at all, certainly have a look at Brandon's picture so you'll know him if you see him. The police would appreciate any information you might have that would help them locate him.
Best wishes, Sandra, to you and your family. My heart hurts for you, and I hope they find Brandon soon.
Update: They found Brandon's body on Nov. 5th. He apparently died of injuries sustained falling out of a tree, which he may have climbed in order to stay warm or protect himself from wildlife.
Fifteen years old. You can't not feel terribly sad about this. I wish Sandra and her family all the warmth and strength they need to deal with their awful loss.
I think, right now, that I'll actually talk about writing for once.
I've decided. I have committed. Yes: I am willing to suffer for my art.
I--a lifelong night-owl--have been getting up at six a.m. every morning to write before going to work.
This is both fun, and not fun, as you can imagine. On one leg o' the chicken, I finally seem to be getting past the dribbles-and-drabs stage of my new project and the words are beginning to flow. But on the other scratcher-de-la-poulet, we're talking six-freakin-a.m. Every day. Including Sunday morning--and you know that six a.m. on Sunday morning is only supposed to be witnessed by those whose Saturday night has been wonderfully epic and untainted by sleep.
Basically, I feel the same way about early mornings that Travis Erwin feels about vegetables.
~~~~~~~
In other quasi-writing news, I've fallen off the wagon. The internet and I are kanoodling again. This did, however, give me the chance to enjoy Nathan Bransford's recent guest-bloggers' articles. The ones by Michelle Moran (Part 1, Part 2) regarding how to market your book are particularly great, and I do recommend them to all writers.
~~~~~~~
This weekend was the Surrey International Writers' Conference. It's a wonderful conference that focuses on the craft of writing, but I have one expensive trip and two expensive dental surgeries under my belt this fall, so I bailed on attending.
Hmm... Perhaps the very talented and warm-hearted writer Brenda Carre would like to do a guest blog here on OxyJen and tell us what she thought of SiWC 2008? *slides Brenda a hopeful look*
~~~~~~~
This last bit of news is very sad, but important: If you've got a moment, please pop by Sandra Cormier (a.k.a. Chumplet)'s blog and wish her strength. Brandon Crisp, the missing Ontario teenager, is her nephew. If you live in the Barrie region of Ontario, Canada, please consider volunteering to be part of a search party, and if you live in Ontario at all, certainly have a look at Brandon's picture so you'll know him if you see him. The police would appreciate any information you might have that would help them locate him.
Best wishes, Sandra, to you and your family. My heart hurts for you, and I hope they find Brandon soon.
Update: They found Brandon's body on Nov. 5th. He apparently died of injuries sustained falling out of a tree, which he may have climbed in order to stay warm or protect himself from wildlife.
Fifteen years old. You can't not feel terribly sad about this. I wish Sandra and her family all the warmth and strength they need to deal with their awful loss.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Back from Vaca! (Part 2)
El Husbando and I just got back from a spectacular almost-3-week trip to Europe, and since I didn't take good enough notes to write a proper trip report this time, I'm going to do a quasi-trip report here for the benefit of friends and family.
Here, on the blog, where you can ignore it without guilt. You see, I firmly believe in giving people the opportunity to show a polite and kind-hearted interest in my life without actually forcing them to look at every stinkin' one of our 867 travel photos or read my blathering 20,000+ word trip report.
A mini-report will be up here in--ooh--the next week or so? I need to look through our 867 (no, I wasn't kidding about that number) photos to remind myself what we did. Heathrow airport didn't lose our luggage, but I'm going to blame them for the fact that I apparently didn't bring my brain home with me.
Nevertheless, it is good to be home. We had a great time, and could have easily gone another week without feeling like it was too much, but it is pleasant knowing where my next pair of clean underwear is coming from.
Super-mini-report:
We walked everywhere (except Iceland, where it was cold.) El Husbando and I estimate we hoofed over 80 km during the trip. It proved a great way to see the various big cities.
Vienna was the prettiest city we went to. I took a ridiculous number of photos of curlicue buildings there, and regretted it later in the trip when we began to run out of memory space for the camera. While in Vienna, we spoke really horrible German at the locals, saw a Mozart concert, found great figs, and watched a pigeon cross the street using the cross-walk. I swear, European pigeons don't fly; they are strictly pedestrians. I am not making this up: the pigeon waited on the corner until the light turned green, and once the people started walking, it walked alongside us to the other side.
Rome had the most historically interesting stuff and was probably our favourite destination (although we had a hard time picking a highlight from the trip.) El Husbando was most excited about going to Rome, since both his parents came from there, and he dragged me out the night we arrived to go walking. We walked to the Vatican, we walked to the Colliseum, we walked everywhere, or so it felt. I'm glad we did it, but at the time, I thought El Husbando had morphed into El Loco. We saw all that territory again, and in more detail, on our tour the next day, but it was great seeing it at night without any crowds.
Italian food proved to be as good as everyone says (especially the gelato), although we were by this point already trying to save money by going to grocery stores and buying bread/rice cakes, cheese and olive paste to eat back at the hotel. Tasty, but we got a lot of pimples from our distinctly-lacking-in-greens diet.
Paris is frilly. The decorations on the historical buildings are more elaborate than we saw in other cities, and they gild a lot of things there. The Eiffel Tower was a short walk from our hotel and looks very pretty lit up with blue lights and white sparkles at night--which it currently is because France is the head of the EU right now, and the EU's flag is blue with gold stars. We went up the tower twice, once during the day and once at night. We also spent sixteen billion years in the Louvre and only saw half of it. What a massive building!
French wine is as good, and cheap, as everyone says. El Husbando bought a bottle that cost the equivalent of $10 Canadian, and it was excellent. He said that in Canada, something that good would cost at least $40. He got another bottle at the duty-free store on our way to the Chunnel, and he's not usually one to polish off two bottles in the space of four days!
London was the city I was most excited to see, and it also had the added bonus that we were meeting my brother (Sarflin), who lives in Iceland now, there. London proved to be the most sprawling city we visited, so walking everywhere didn't prove very practical, but we did a lot of it anyway. Overall impressions? Regent's Park is much prettier than Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace is a teeny-tiny thing compared to some of the other palaces we saw (both in London and in other cities), and Big Ben and the houses of Parliment are waaaay awesomer than they look on TV.
My brother picked up a wicked cold while in London, so I want to thank him again for taking us around in Iceland despite being feverish and making occasional attempts to catapult his lungs at the horizon. Iceland is an amazing place! The scenery is exotic, a cross between desert-like and stark tundra. We did the Golden Circle tour, where we saw Geysir (the word "geyser" came from this place), Goss Fells (a HEE-UGE waterfall), the rift where the North American tectonic plate is separating from the European plate, and a geothermal plant where they produce very cheap electricity and hot water for Reykjavik. We also took a walk along the seawall with Sarflin before sending him home to try to steam-clean his sinuses in the shower.
That night, Reykjavik got the first snowfall of the season, so driving to the airport the next day allowed us to see Iceland in white. This was completely different, but just as beautiful and exotic. The landscape is all jumbled lava rocks and rifts, with mountains in the background, and the snow allows you to see where all the cracks and bumps lie. El Husbando said that, with snow, the scenery looked the way he had always pictured Iceland looking.
So now I am staring at a pile of dirty laundry twice the size of our suitcase and wondering how that's even possible. It was a long trip, and a mighty ding in the wallet, but you know what? 'Twas totally worth it!
Here, on the blog, where you can ignore it without guilt. You see, I firmly believe in giving people the opportunity to show a polite and kind-hearted interest in my life without actually forcing them to look at every stinkin' one of our 867 travel photos or read my blathering 20,000+ word trip report.
A mini-report will be up here in--ooh--the next week or so? I need to look through our 867 (no, I wasn't kidding about that number) photos to remind myself what we did. Heathrow airport didn't lose our luggage, but I'm going to blame them for the fact that I apparently didn't bring my brain home with me.
Nevertheless, it is good to be home. We had a great time, and could have easily gone another week without feeling like it was too much, but it is pleasant knowing where my next pair of clean underwear is coming from.
Super-mini-report:
We walked everywhere (except Iceland, where it was cold.) El Husbando and I estimate we hoofed over 80 km during the trip. It proved a great way to see the various big cities.
Vienna was the prettiest city we went to. I took a ridiculous number of photos of curlicue buildings there, and regretted it later in the trip when we began to run out of memory space for the camera. While in Vienna, we spoke really horrible German at the locals, saw a Mozart concert, found great figs, and watched a pigeon cross the street using the cross-walk. I swear, European pigeons don't fly; they are strictly pedestrians. I am not making this up: the pigeon waited on the corner until the light turned green, and once the people started walking, it walked alongside us to the other side.
Rome had the most historically interesting stuff and was probably our favourite destination (although we had a hard time picking a highlight from the trip.) El Husbando was most excited about going to Rome, since both his parents came from there, and he dragged me out the night we arrived to go walking. We walked to the Vatican, we walked to the Colliseum, we walked everywhere, or so it felt. I'm glad we did it, but at the time, I thought El Husbando had morphed into El Loco. We saw all that territory again, and in more detail, on our tour the next day, but it was great seeing it at night without any crowds.
Italian food proved to be as good as everyone says (especially the gelato), although we were by this point already trying to save money by going to grocery stores and buying bread/rice cakes, cheese and olive paste to eat back at the hotel. Tasty, but we got a lot of pimples from our distinctly-lacking-in-greens diet.
Paris is frilly. The decorations on the historical buildings are more elaborate than we saw in other cities, and they gild a lot of things there. The Eiffel Tower was a short walk from our hotel and looks very pretty lit up with blue lights and white sparkles at night--which it currently is because France is the head of the EU right now, and the EU's flag is blue with gold stars. We went up the tower twice, once during the day and once at night. We also spent sixteen billion years in the Louvre and only saw half of it. What a massive building!
French wine is as good, and cheap, as everyone says. El Husbando bought a bottle that cost the equivalent of $10 Canadian, and it was excellent. He said that in Canada, something that good would cost at least $40. He got another bottle at the duty-free store on our way to the Chunnel, and he's not usually one to polish off two bottles in the space of four days!
London was the city I was most excited to see, and it also had the added bonus that we were meeting my brother (Sarflin), who lives in Iceland now, there. London proved to be the most sprawling city we visited, so walking everywhere didn't prove very practical, but we did a lot of it anyway. Overall impressions? Regent's Park is much prettier than Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace is a teeny-tiny thing compared to some of the other palaces we saw (both in London and in other cities), and Big Ben and the houses of Parliment are waaaay awesomer than they look on TV.
My brother picked up a wicked cold while in London, so I want to thank him again for taking us around in Iceland despite being feverish and making occasional attempts to catapult his lungs at the horizon. Iceland is an amazing place! The scenery is exotic, a cross between desert-like and stark tundra. We did the Golden Circle tour, where we saw Geysir (the word "geyser" came from this place), Goss Fells (a HEE-UGE waterfall), the rift where the North American tectonic plate is separating from the European plate, and a geothermal plant where they produce very cheap electricity and hot water for Reykjavik. We also took a walk along the seawall with Sarflin before sending him home to try to steam-clean his sinuses in the shower.
That night, Reykjavik got the first snowfall of the season, so driving to the airport the next day allowed us to see Iceland in white. This was completely different, but just as beautiful and exotic. The landscape is all jumbled lava rocks and rifts, with mountains in the background, and the snow allows you to see where all the cracks and bumps lie. El Husbando said that, with snow, the scenery looked the way he had always pictured Iceland looking.
So now I am staring at a pile of dirty laundry twice the size of our suitcase and wondering how that's even possible. It was a long trip, and a mighty ding in the wallet, but you know what? 'Twas totally worth it!
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