Wow. I've been serious lately. What in the hell is up with that? Once upon a time I was pretty darned funny. Now I'm actually thinking about stuff and commenting on it like I know what in the hell I'm talking about.
So not cool.
I discovered today why this blog is called *Elf killing and other hobbies.* It's because I have a cat named Elf. Elf is normally pretty cool. He's the runt from the litter before last that I bottlefed and who sat on my lap pretty much the whole time I wrote Asphodel. Now, he's a little bit bigger...okay, too big, to do that so he complains a lot.
Or gets even.
Today, he got even in a big way. He pulled my new laptop bag out of the allegedly cat-proof closet, dragged all my paperwork out of it (thank god the laptop was otherwise occupied at the time) and curled up in it. Then he went to sleep.
No problem, right?
Wrong. The kitten decided that playing with my papers was fun. The best place to launch herself upon said papers was from the top of the laptop bag. Then, she could skid across the floor and do it all over again. Elf took exception to being used as a springboard. With an unearthly howl, he leaps out of the laptop bag, swats the kitten across the room , takes the strap of the bag in his mouth and runs for his favorite hiding place.
The bathtub.
I was running bath water.
SPLASH! Cat, laptop bag, what few papers I had left in it, cough drops, medicine, house keys, and money all end up in five inches of warm, lavender scented water.
Thanks a lot, cat.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
A Not Quite So Normal Day
Today is a strange day. I'm lying in bed with my new laptop checking up on all the day's events.
To start off with, I'm sick. I actually went to the doctor yesterday, and he actually lectured me severely and put me on antibiotics and about the nastiest freaking cough medicine I've ever had. I actually took it BACK to Walgreens and paid another 3 bucks to get flavoring put in it. Now it's only marginally nauseous. Bubble gum with a kick.
Then yesterday, I got my lawsuit settlement. Oh joy! I get to wallow in the happiness of being temporarily well-to-do, then I get to write a whole bunch of checks and lose it all in a week. Oh well! At least I got the laptop out of it.
Then, I watched the news. I watch the news every morning. I am, as they say, a news junkie. Yesterday, I laughed all day long about Maurice Clarett getting busted again (if you don't follow football, you won't know who he is) but today there's not a lot to laugh about. Thank god someone was able to bust up the terrorist plot in London! However, by the same token, it does make me wonder a bit about the 11 'students' at Montant State from Egypt who 'disappeared' en route to school last week. Something tells me that they didn't get them all.
Aside from that, I'm having a hard time convincing the kitten that attacking fingers moving quickly on the new laptop is NOT a good idea. She's a little stubborn, so it might take a few days. In a bit, I'll transfer all my web stuff to this computer and leave the desktop for my writing! Hurray!
*cough, cough*
Time to take more medicine and turn on CNN.
To start off with, I'm sick. I actually went to the doctor yesterday, and he actually lectured me severely and put me on antibiotics and about the nastiest freaking cough medicine I've ever had. I actually took it BACK to Walgreens and paid another 3 bucks to get flavoring put in it. Now it's only marginally nauseous. Bubble gum with a kick.
Then yesterday, I got my lawsuit settlement. Oh joy! I get to wallow in the happiness of being temporarily well-to-do, then I get to write a whole bunch of checks and lose it all in a week. Oh well! At least I got the laptop out of it.
Then, I watched the news. I watch the news every morning. I am, as they say, a news junkie. Yesterday, I laughed all day long about Maurice Clarett getting busted again (if you don't follow football, you won't know who he is) but today there's not a lot to laugh about. Thank god someone was able to bust up the terrorist plot in London! However, by the same token, it does make me wonder a bit about the 11 'students' at Montant State from Egypt who 'disappeared' en route to school last week. Something tells me that they didn't get them all.
Aside from that, I'm having a hard time convincing the kitten that attacking fingers moving quickly on the new laptop is NOT a good idea. She's a little stubborn, so it might take a few days. In a bit, I'll transfer all my web stuff to this computer and leave the desktop for my writing! Hurray!
*cough, cough*
Time to take more medicine and turn on CNN.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
There is a God--a mscelina prayer
Thank you, divine being. Thank you for the gifts you have bestowed upon me, the poorest of your daughters. Thank you for allowing me enjoyment, regardless of the realities I suffer under. Thank you for your generosity, for letting me survive the summer. Hell, I'll even thank you for my cats.
There have been times when I doubted your existence. There have been days when I stared up into the broad expanses of the heavens and wondered if you were the greatest scam of all times. I even had that nightmare when I was a kid--you know the one, where I thought every other living creature was actually a robot and I was the last of the species? I'm not thanking you for that one -- it was too traumatic.
Just this time last week, everything looked bleak. I was trapped in a hell of television's making, forced to watch baseball highlights and steroid test results from the Tour de France on ESPN. I thought my personal purgatory would never end; it seemed to stretch before me like the yawning chasm of Dante's infernal pit.
But now, now I am redeemed! Joy has reentered my life! Every day dawns with new hope, new dreams, and new excitement! I don't feel like myself; the depression is gone. And at last I realized that you have brought me to this state. You, in your mercy, have granted me a reprieve! And I am grateful, groveling almost on hands and knees with tears of joy in my eyes. I recognize that my reprieve at the moment is merely play; practice, almost, and not the real thing. But just the appearance of it has brought me a reason to continue living -- because I know that you will relent and reward me when it is time.
Which actually, if you think about it, is September 2.
HOORAY! FOOTBALL IS BACK!
Thank god.
There have been times when I doubted your existence. There have been days when I stared up into the broad expanses of the heavens and wondered if you were the greatest scam of all times. I even had that nightmare when I was a kid--you know the one, where I thought every other living creature was actually a robot and I was the last of the species? I'm not thanking you for that one -- it was too traumatic.
Just this time last week, everything looked bleak. I was trapped in a hell of television's making, forced to watch baseball highlights and steroid test results from the Tour de France on ESPN. I thought my personal purgatory would never end; it seemed to stretch before me like the yawning chasm of Dante's infernal pit.
But now, now I am redeemed! Joy has reentered my life! Every day dawns with new hope, new dreams, and new excitement! I don't feel like myself; the depression is gone. And at last I realized that you have brought me to this state. You, in your mercy, have granted me a reprieve! And I am grateful, groveling almost on hands and knees with tears of joy in my eyes. I recognize that my reprieve at the moment is merely play; practice, almost, and not the real thing. But just the appearance of it has brought me a reason to continue living -- because I know that you will relent and reward me when it is time.
Which actually, if you think about it, is September 2.
HOORAY! FOOTBALL IS BACK!
Thank god.
Monday, August 07, 2006
The Contemplation of the Artistic Ego
Yep, I'm starting to get nervous.
First off, I'm not very comfortable with self-promotion. (Pauses until the various fountains of beverages stop spewing on monitors over three continents) No, seriously. I know I have to get my name out there. I know I have to post excerpts, run contests, and do all of that stuff. Trust me; it's been drummed into my thick skull on many different levels.
I'm just not comfortable with it.
Artists have egos. That's a given. Ten years in the theatre taught me that, along with the unfortunate reality that the ones with the largest egos generally don't have a reason to be that proud of themselves. For example, I was doing *Guys and Dolls* at summer stock. The lady who was playing Adelaide had a gorgeous voice and really nailed the part. Unfortunately, she also thought she was a size three. The last thing you ever want to see in this world is a 160 pound soprano cramming her cellulite into the same outfits that the Hot Box girls wear. Not that 160 is that bad of a weight, but when you're 5'1" it's a little, well, overwhelming. Nothing anyone said could sway her, not even the costume designer who'd been in the business for 30 years including numerous Broadway shows and a stint at Disney. The soprano got so offended at the costumer's argument that she turned her into Actor's Equity for keeping her waiting TWO MINUTES for a scheduled fitting.
I then promptly turned her in for exceeding the union-specified makeup space by six inches.
Nothing that I have done in my artistic career was ever quite good enough. If I designed and built a set, I saw only the flaws when the curtain went up and the audience applauded. If I played a major role, I dwelled on the dialect lapses or the awkward movement as opposed to the moment when I felt the emotion I was supposed to portray and got a response from the audience. The same thing applies to my writing: never, never, never, have I produced a story that I absolutely KNEW was the best I could do.
Ergo, my problem.
Some of the other writers I know are geniuses at self-promotion. Some of them are annoying about it. Last week, I read two excerpts back-to-back. One was written by a friend of mine (Sierra Dafoe) and was outstanding. The second was written by a writer I do not know -- and before I could stop myself I was mentally critiquing the piece. Everyone has typos, but after hearing this woman self-proclaim her genius for a few weeks I was appalled that there were several spelling and grammatical mistakes in a piece she posted to PROMOTE said genius. Also, there is a fine line between artistic writing and hack writing. Sierra is a master of writing in a beautiful way; when I read her work I can visualize it just like a movie.
The other excerpt I didn't WANT to visualize.
*sigh* So here am I, caught between the Scylla and Charybdis, trying to muck my way through my own attempts at promotion without compromising my own, harsh views on my art. Is it art? Is it fun? Can someone see what I'm trying to show them? Does it make sense? Most important, can a reader pick this up and lose themselves in MY world for a while? Now I'm facing the realities of throwing my work out to an unsuspecting public. Now there are things in my immediate future called REVIEWS.
ACK!
A very wise person once said to me that the only artistic reward evolves from great artistic risk. It doesn't matter if you're writing the great American novel or erotica or fantasy or an epic poem. Every artist takes some sort of risk; the great ones never play it safe. In order to survive it, you have to have a fairly healthy sense of self-esteem. I've never been afraid to challenge myself or to defend any direction I've taken over my life. But, for some reason, this feels like one of the biggest risks I've ever taken as well. We'll just have to wait and see if I manage to survive it.
First off, I'm not very comfortable with self-promotion. (Pauses until the various fountains of beverages stop spewing on monitors over three continents) No, seriously. I know I have to get my name out there. I know I have to post excerpts, run contests, and do all of that stuff. Trust me; it's been drummed into my thick skull on many different levels.
I'm just not comfortable with it.
Artists have egos. That's a given. Ten years in the theatre taught me that, along with the unfortunate reality that the ones with the largest egos generally don't have a reason to be that proud of themselves. For example, I was doing *Guys and Dolls* at summer stock. The lady who was playing Adelaide had a gorgeous voice and really nailed the part. Unfortunately, she also thought she was a size three. The last thing you ever want to see in this world is a 160 pound soprano cramming her cellulite into the same outfits that the Hot Box girls wear. Not that 160 is that bad of a weight, but when you're 5'1" it's a little, well, overwhelming. Nothing anyone said could sway her, not even the costume designer who'd been in the business for 30 years including numerous Broadway shows and a stint at Disney. The soprano got so offended at the costumer's argument that she turned her into Actor's Equity for keeping her waiting TWO MINUTES for a scheduled fitting.
I then promptly turned her in for exceeding the union-specified makeup space by six inches.
Nothing that I have done in my artistic career was ever quite good enough. If I designed and built a set, I saw only the flaws when the curtain went up and the audience applauded. If I played a major role, I dwelled on the dialect lapses or the awkward movement as opposed to the moment when I felt the emotion I was supposed to portray and got a response from the audience. The same thing applies to my writing: never, never, never, have I produced a story that I absolutely KNEW was the best I could do.
Ergo, my problem.
Some of the other writers I know are geniuses at self-promotion. Some of them are annoying about it. Last week, I read two excerpts back-to-back. One was written by a friend of mine (Sierra Dafoe) and was outstanding. The second was written by a writer I do not know -- and before I could stop myself I was mentally critiquing the piece. Everyone has typos, but after hearing this woman self-proclaim her genius for a few weeks I was appalled that there were several spelling and grammatical mistakes in a piece she posted to PROMOTE said genius. Also, there is a fine line between artistic writing and hack writing. Sierra is a master of writing in a beautiful way; when I read her work I can visualize it just like a movie.
The other excerpt I didn't WANT to visualize.
*sigh* So here am I, caught between the Scylla and Charybdis, trying to muck my way through my own attempts at promotion without compromising my own, harsh views on my art. Is it art? Is it fun? Can someone see what I'm trying to show them? Does it make sense? Most important, can a reader pick this up and lose themselves in MY world for a while? Now I'm facing the realities of throwing my work out to an unsuspecting public. Now there are things in my immediate future called REVIEWS.
ACK!
A very wise person once said to me that the only artistic reward evolves from great artistic risk. It doesn't matter if you're writing the great American novel or erotica or fantasy or an epic poem. Every artist takes some sort of risk; the great ones never play it safe. In order to survive it, you have to have a fairly healthy sense of self-esteem. I've never been afraid to challenge myself or to defend any direction I've taken over my life. But, for some reason, this feels like one of the biggest risks I've ever taken as well. We'll just have to wait and see if I manage to survive it.
Friday, August 04, 2006
You Won't Believe This...
...but I'm killing Elves again.
Dangnabbit! All I want to do is finish Darkshifters! I wasn't planning on getting back to Asphodel until THAT was done. But noooooooooooo .... the stupid muse wants me to work some more on Elf- killing. So, is it any wonder why my new website is called Shoot The Muse? www.shoothemuse.bravehost.com for those of you interested. If I can figure out the html, I WILL have a muse shooting gallery. I figure it's only fair; when she interferes with my writing schedule, all I want to do is cap the bitch.
At any rate, I managed to kill and Elf in a fairly original way this morning. *grin* Not content with just eviscerating him, I disembowled him and had the enemy cart his guts around on a pike. Not original, I admit it. I actually stole it from history. Unfortunately, that was the fate of the Princesse de Lamballe in the French Revolution. They were a little more gruesome about it though; they made an artisan who worked in wax do a death mask of her decapitated head ( who later became Madame Tussaud for those who want to know) AND they stopped to have her hair done before they took her to the palace so Marie Antoinette could see her.
I wasn't that cruel. I just had his intestines draped over a pike like a flag.
So, at any rate, I appear to do be done with all of the other writing assignments I've given myself and have returned for the time being to my first love--the slaughtering of Elves. I am considering adding a new lethal creature to my lexicon of Asphodel critters too, but I haven't decided exactly what yet. I was passing fond of the anthroscorpios (which, Dragon's Den folk, I stole and put into our anthology monsters) so I don't know if I can actually supersede that.
Who am I kidding?
Although, if you really think about it, I don't need a critter more deadly than the ones I already have. Man is apparently the greatest monster in any fantasy world -- although orcs might come in second -- and it's hard to create a mythological monster with more cruelty than that.
Vive le resistance!
Dangnabbit! All I want to do is finish Darkshifters! I wasn't planning on getting back to Asphodel until THAT was done. But noooooooooooo .... the stupid muse wants me to work some more on Elf- killing. So, is it any wonder why my new website is called Shoot The Muse? www.shoothemuse.bravehost.com for those of you interested. If I can figure out the html, I WILL have a muse shooting gallery. I figure it's only fair; when she interferes with my writing schedule, all I want to do is cap the bitch.
At any rate, I managed to kill and Elf in a fairly original way this morning. *grin* Not content with just eviscerating him, I disembowled him and had the enemy cart his guts around on a pike. Not original, I admit it. I actually stole it from history. Unfortunately, that was the fate of the Princesse de Lamballe in the French Revolution. They were a little more gruesome about it though; they made an artisan who worked in wax do a death mask of her decapitated head ( who later became Madame Tussaud for those who want to know) AND they stopped to have her hair done before they took her to the palace so Marie Antoinette could see her.
I wasn't that cruel. I just had his intestines draped over a pike like a flag.
So, at any rate, I appear to do be done with all of the other writing assignments I've given myself and have returned for the time being to my first love--the slaughtering of Elves. I am considering adding a new lethal creature to my lexicon of Asphodel critters too, but I haven't decided exactly what yet. I was passing fond of the anthroscorpios (which, Dragon's Den folk, I stole and put into our anthology monsters) so I don't know if I can actually supersede that.
Who am I kidding?
Although, if you really think about it, I don't need a critter more deadly than the ones I already have. Man is apparently the greatest monster in any fantasy world -- although orcs might come in second -- and it's hard to create a mythological monster with more cruelty than that.
Vive le resistance!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Lost in Lancaster, But Slotted Just the Same
I don't belong in middle America. I'm not certain where I belong, but I know middle America is NOT it. I've been giving some thought to this lately. Maybe a cabin in the middle of some BIG woods? But, then it would have to have internet access.
Over the last week, I've found myself getting involved in political discussions. You have to realize, this is usually something I avoid. I consider my BS in political science an unfair advantage. It's very easy to have an opinion, it's not quite so easy to back it up.
Folk around here are one of two things: die-hard, Roman Catholic conservatives or really pissed-off dyed-in-the-wool liberals. I count as neither. I am an independent moderate.
Period.
Let's try that again. INDEPENDENT MODERATE.
In other words, I think radicals whether on the left or the right are wrong.
Think about it: I'd venture to guess that out of 200 million people plus about 198 million people are actually moderate. That's probably a reasonable guess. Let me ask you this: how many of you vote for the President of the United States according to what party the candidate is in? Me? I vote on the person. I do admit to casting one vote for Ralph Nader a few years ago, simply because I didn't care for the other two candidates.
I mentioned that the other day and got this response: "Why throw your vote away?"
Excuse me? Throw my vote away. Um.....I didn't. I expressed my opinion on the two *major* party candidates and exercised my constitutional right to vote for whom I chose. Granted, I knew when I cast the vote that he wouldn't win. The United States has been crippled by the two-party system for entirely too long.
So let me see if I have this straight. Unless a person casts a vote for a Republican or a Democrat, it's considered wasting your vote.
Right. Wouldn't John Adams be pleased to hear about this?
I'm considering throwing more things onto my plate. I think it's time for a new grass-roots organization that will work to topple the two-party system and all of its inherent prejudices? Pro-abortion and anti-guns? have we got the place for you! Think we could balance the budget by RAISING taxes and CUTTING spending? Welcome to the group! (That's how I get my budget to balance...jesus christ, how hard can it be?) Think that it's possibly time for the United States of America to elect an official based on THEIR opinions and not the party lines?
Hmm....I may be onto something. It's practically guaranteed, however, that I will NOT be basing the offices in this town. I was called a Republican the other day because I mentioned that I thought it was stupid to change commanders-in-chief during a war.
A Republican? Me????
ROFLMAO! Yes, I'm so Republican that I frequently do protests in favor of gay rights.
Absolutely freaking ridiculous. Don't label me because I have an opinion that's different than yours, asshole. My upbringing, my background, my ideology are different than yours--that doesn't automatically toss me into a compartment labelled "Republican". Trust me. I used to confess my pro-choice marches to my priest when I was in college and still a Catholic.
So, at any rate, I think I mught just have to consider starting this organziation. I think I'm going to call it "Common Sense. com"; perhaps a good slogan would be "Where you don't have to be as asshole to have your opinion heard." Then, we'll show up and protest important things, like *hey, where's the corn dog booth at the fair?* or *hey! why can't I chew gum and walk at the same time* or ....
"Hey, why can't we have a President who isn't trapped in either a Conservative or Liberal pre-pasted suit?"
Think about it. *evil grin* Another website to maintain.
Over the last week, I've found myself getting involved in political discussions. You have to realize, this is usually something I avoid. I consider my BS in political science an unfair advantage. It's very easy to have an opinion, it's not quite so easy to back it up.
Folk around here are one of two things: die-hard, Roman Catholic conservatives or really pissed-off dyed-in-the-wool liberals. I count as neither. I am an independent moderate.
Period.
Let's try that again. INDEPENDENT MODERATE.
In other words, I think radicals whether on the left or the right are wrong.
Think about it: I'd venture to guess that out of 200 million people plus about 198 million people are actually moderate. That's probably a reasonable guess. Let me ask you this: how many of you vote for the President of the United States according to what party the candidate is in? Me? I vote on the person. I do admit to casting one vote for Ralph Nader a few years ago, simply because I didn't care for the other two candidates.
I mentioned that the other day and got this response: "Why throw your vote away?"
Excuse me? Throw my vote away. Um.....I didn't. I expressed my opinion on the two *major* party candidates and exercised my constitutional right to vote for whom I chose. Granted, I knew when I cast the vote that he wouldn't win. The United States has been crippled by the two-party system for entirely too long.
So let me see if I have this straight. Unless a person casts a vote for a Republican or a Democrat, it's considered wasting your vote.
Right. Wouldn't John Adams be pleased to hear about this?
I'm considering throwing more things onto my plate. I think it's time for a new grass-roots organization that will work to topple the two-party system and all of its inherent prejudices? Pro-abortion and anti-guns? have we got the place for you! Think we could balance the budget by RAISING taxes and CUTTING spending? Welcome to the group! (That's how I get my budget to balance...jesus christ, how hard can it be?) Think that it's possibly time for the United States of America to elect an official based on THEIR opinions and not the party lines?
Hmm....I may be onto something. It's practically guaranteed, however, that I will NOT be basing the offices in this town. I was called a Republican the other day because I mentioned that I thought it was stupid to change commanders-in-chief during a war.
A Republican? Me????
ROFLMAO! Yes, I'm so Republican that I frequently do protests in favor of gay rights.
Absolutely freaking ridiculous. Don't label me because I have an opinion that's different than yours, asshole. My upbringing, my background, my ideology are different than yours--that doesn't automatically toss me into a compartment labelled "Republican". Trust me. I used to confess my pro-choice marches to my priest when I was in college and still a Catholic.
So, at any rate, I think I mught just have to consider starting this organziation. I think I'm going to call it "Common Sense. com"; perhaps a good slogan would be "Where you don't have to be as asshole to have your opinion heard." Then, we'll show up and protest important things, like *hey, where's the corn dog booth at the fair?* or *hey! why can't I chew gum and walk at the same time* or ....
"Hey, why can't we have a President who isn't trapped in either a Conservative or Liberal pre-pasted suit?"
Think about it. *evil grin* Another website to maintain.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Progress
Amazingly enough, things are starting to crank along. Edits are now done for the second book of Mythos, the anthology stories are coming along nicely, I'm waiting for edits from JWP, and the new website is actually growing instead of exploding. Believe me, that's progress!
I started working on Darkshifters again. Hopefully the progress will extend to it. I'd like to see it finished in the next couple of weeks. The new manmeat submission went off to Changeling; we'll see if they like it as well as they liked my first one. Now I get to develop a marketing strategy and all that fun stuff.
Yippee.
I have to admit, it's all harder than I thought it would be. If I were a juggler I might be able to coordinate all of these different balls a little bit better, but as it is I must proceed with the few organizational skills I have. I wonder how much of this 'real' authors have to do? I mean, granted, JK Rowling probably doesn't have to make guest appearances on readers' chat loops but the whole marketing stuff has got to be a pain.
Not that Harry Potter requires marketing.
My normal daily schedule has been adapted to fit these changing needs. Instead of writing for my normal six hours in a row, I'm having to break those hours up now with other, more tedious details. This keeps me up much longer than usual (as if that's really possible) and my mood has swung accordingly. Now that my semi-annual bout of bronchitis has kicked in, sitting at the computer has become more of a chore than anything else.
*cough, cough, hack, -- reaches for the orange juice*
Oh well, at least my house is clean. I stocked up on groceries so I won't have to leave the house unless I go to the doctor, which is looking like a probability. Everything is set, neat, and organized so that I can hit the ground running.
*shivers with fever and reaches for the blankie*
Damn.
Optimism is overrated. I'd much rather curl up in bed with a book someone else wrote than work on my own stuff. But then, I have to remind myself that discipline is the greatest tool a writer has. Back to the keyboard.
*sniff*
I started working on Darkshifters again. Hopefully the progress will extend to it. I'd like to see it finished in the next couple of weeks. The new manmeat submission went off to Changeling; we'll see if they like it as well as they liked my first one. Now I get to develop a marketing strategy and all that fun stuff.
Yippee.
I have to admit, it's all harder than I thought it would be. If I were a juggler I might be able to coordinate all of these different balls a little bit better, but as it is I must proceed with the few organizational skills I have. I wonder how much of this 'real' authors have to do? I mean, granted, JK Rowling probably doesn't have to make guest appearances on readers' chat loops but the whole marketing stuff has got to be a pain.
Not that Harry Potter requires marketing.
My normal daily schedule has been adapted to fit these changing needs. Instead of writing for my normal six hours in a row, I'm having to break those hours up now with other, more tedious details. This keeps me up much longer than usual (as if that's really possible) and my mood has swung accordingly. Now that my semi-annual bout of bronchitis has kicked in, sitting at the computer has become more of a chore than anything else.
*cough, cough, hack, -- reaches for the orange juice*
Oh well, at least my house is clean. I stocked up on groceries so I won't have to leave the house unless I go to the doctor, which is looking like a probability. Everything is set, neat, and organized so that I can hit the ground running.
*shivers with fever and reaches for the blankie*
Damn.
Optimism is overrated. I'd much rather curl up in bed with a book someone else wrote than work on my own stuff. But then, I have to remind myself that discipline is the greatest tool a writer has. Back to the keyboard.
*sniff*
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Human Nature
What a misnomer. Human nature. Do those words really belong together in a phrase? Somehow I don't think so. Over the course of this weekend, I've been subjected to some strange examples of human nature. Somehow, most of them don't seem either human or natural.
Example #1: In the small, southeastern Ohio town where I live, a man was arrested for running a puppy mill. In a tiny two bedroom house, that he no longer occupied, the Animal Protection officers and police confiscated 51 puppies, 12 breeding dogs, 21 cats and a skunk. I will not describe the condition of the house; suffice it to say that the house is now condemned. As are the animals freed from that hellhole. They are too unwell and malnourished to be saved. Human? Not hardly. Natural? Anything but.
Example # 2: Last night a group of young adults (yes, I backspaced over the word 'kids') came into the bar. They were with a University Habitat for Humanity group and were in the area building a home for a family displaced by fire. That cheered me up --- until....they began to discuss, in loud, condescending tones the shortcomings of the people they were helping -- how fat, ugly, smelly, et cetera the family was. Okay, so they weren't perfect little sorority and fraternity members like the kids who helped them, but what kind of help was it? Turns out, the HFH group is having a contest between the frats to see who can provide the most assistance over the course of the year. They weren't helping from any developed social conscience, but so that their fraternity would win.
Example # 3: Late in the evening, a wedding party showed up: bride, groom, groomsmen and bridesmaids all still in their wedding finery. I must admit; that took me aback for a minute. What newlyweds would want to be in a bar at 2 a.m. on their wedding night? At any rate, since they pulled up in a limo I had no qualms about serving them. Somehow, in the course of 30 minutes, the newly-married couple got into an argument. It ended at 2:36 in front of the now-locked bar, with the bride riding away sobbing in the limo and the groom screaming obscenities after the car as it went down the street. I have high hopes for that wedding, gotta tell you.
Today is one of the slow, painful days. Everything hurts physically; my kindness to my employer has gotten the better of me. I've worked too much this weekend, working shifts that I originally said I would not do. it's one of those days when I lie around the house and think about things. Today, however, that physical reaction to a hard week was superseded by an intellectual one. I got a phone call from a friend this morning who was in the bar last night, and he dismissed the HFH incident and the bridal party incident as "human nature." What in the hell is so human about that? Doesn't that dismissal, in and of itself, indicate that we, as humans, believe that "human nature" allows us to be cruel? Permits us to be insensitive? Encourages us to satisfy our own impulses without thought for the consequence that has upon others?
Look at all the atrocities in our world today. Think about the lives lost, the futures wrecked, the suffering caused by the concept of "human nature." I suppose, if you want to get technical about it, humans are carnivorous beings. We are predators, designed to be hugely successful at it because of a posable thumb and the capacity to problem solve. Perhaps cruelty is human nature if you think about it that way.
It's very easy to judge, isn't it?
Of the 85 animals rescued from that miserable, unair-conditioned hovel, only 9 will be alive tomorrow. I'm going to the animal shelter to put my bid in to take one of them home. That's my response to "human nature." I'm not even going to be picky about what animal I take. I'll end up with the one least likely to be adopted, the smallest, the sickest, the most dejected, the ugliest. I'll bring it home and introduce it to my pets, take it to the vet, give it food and water in a currently messy but inherently clean house and teach the poor thing that not all humans are like the one who tortured it. Some humans don't have "human nature" as a crutch.
And in the end, that might just be a good thing.
Example #1: In the small, southeastern Ohio town where I live, a man was arrested for running a puppy mill. In a tiny two bedroom house, that he no longer occupied, the Animal Protection officers and police confiscated 51 puppies, 12 breeding dogs, 21 cats and a skunk. I will not describe the condition of the house; suffice it to say that the house is now condemned. As are the animals freed from that hellhole. They are too unwell and malnourished to be saved. Human? Not hardly. Natural? Anything but.
Example # 2: Last night a group of young adults (yes, I backspaced over the word 'kids') came into the bar. They were with a University Habitat for Humanity group and were in the area building a home for a family displaced by fire. That cheered me up --- until....they began to discuss, in loud, condescending tones the shortcomings of the people they were helping -- how fat, ugly, smelly, et cetera the family was. Okay, so they weren't perfect little sorority and fraternity members like the kids who helped them, but what kind of help was it? Turns out, the HFH group is having a contest between the frats to see who can provide the most assistance over the course of the year. They weren't helping from any developed social conscience, but so that their fraternity would win.
Example # 3: Late in the evening, a wedding party showed up: bride, groom, groomsmen and bridesmaids all still in their wedding finery. I must admit; that took me aback for a minute. What newlyweds would want to be in a bar at 2 a.m. on their wedding night? At any rate, since they pulled up in a limo I had no qualms about serving them. Somehow, in the course of 30 minutes, the newly-married couple got into an argument. It ended at 2:36 in front of the now-locked bar, with the bride riding away sobbing in the limo and the groom screaming obscenities after the car as it went down the street. I have high hopes for that wedding, gotta tell you.
Today is one of the slow, painful days. Everything hurts physically; my kindness to my employer has gotten the better of me. I've worked too much this weekend, working shifts that I originally said I would not do. it's one of those days when I lie around the house and think about things. Today, however, that physical reaction to a hard week was superseded by an intellectual one. I got a phone call from a friend this morning who was in the bar last night, and he dismissed the HFH incident and the bridal party incident as "human nature." What in the hell is so human about that? Doesn't that dismissal, in and of itself, indicate that we, as humans, believe that "human nature" allows us to be cruel? Permits us to be insensitive? Encourages us to satisfy our own impulses without thought for the consequence that has upon others?
Look at all the atrocities in our world today. Think about the lives lost, the futures wrecked, the suffering caused by the concept of "human nature." I suppose, if you want to get technical about it, humans are carnivorous beings. We are predators, designed to be hugely successful at it because of a posable thumb and the capacity to problem solve. Perhaps cruelty is human nature if you think about it that way.
It's very easy to judge, isn't it?
Of the 85 animals rescued from that miserable, unair-conditioned hovel, only 9 will be alive tomorrow. I'm going to the animal shelter to put my bid in to take one of them home. That's my response to "human nature." I'm not even going to be picky about what animal I take. I'll end up with the one least likely to be adopted, the smallest, the sickest, the most dejected, the ugliest. I'll bring it home and introduce it to my pets, take it to the vet, give it food and water in a currently messy but inherently clean house and teach the poor thing that not all humans are like the one who tortured it. Some humans don't have "human nature" as a crutch.
And in the end, that might just be a good thing.
Friday, July 28, 2006
The Ramifications of the Do Not Call List
English is a complicated language. I know it. You know it. Everyone apparently knows it save for telemarketers.
Recently I switched away from satelite providing all my services (phone, internet, cable) and returned to a land line phone based system. The reasons? A: I'm really damn tired of my cable bill going up every two months when it's already ridiculous. B: I like to work when it's raining. and C: Because the local provider REALLY pissed me off. As soon as I got the new phone number, I placed it on the national Do Not Call reegistry.
I get enough phone calls from the people I owe money to. There's no need for someone to call me to get me to spend more money.
At any rate, this morning the phone rings at 8:15 a.m. Being a preternaturally light sleeper, of course it woke me up. Since I tended bar last night, I'm thinking it's GOT to be an emergency of some sort. No one in their right mind who knows me would call me before noon the day after a closing shift.
"Good morning, I'm ****** from AOL. I'm calling to -"
"I don't care." Celina is in her full-blown rude state despite being groggy. "Not only it is freaking 8 am, but I work as a bartender AND I'm on the Do Not Call Registry."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Let me double check that against my records."
"Dude, double check away. Write on your little list that regardless of what great deal AOL wants to offer me, I'll drop them as my internet provider if they EVER call this number again."
*Click*
(this would be the spot for the purple smiley guy insertion, Dragon's Den folk)
Yesterday morning, it was this:
"This is an automated message for Edward P. *****. If this is the correct number, please push one. If this person is not available, please push two. If this person is no longer at this number, please press three -"
It was the THIRD time for that phone bot in a week. The first two times, number three was pressed. Time number three, I waited for the HUMAN number to return the call. That was ugly.
Monday morning much the same, only then it was roofing. Satruday night at dinner time, we got the infamous outsourced replacement windows telemarketer.
Okay. Elementary English time. "Do Not Call". Let me break it down for you.
do:
Function: verbInflected Forms: did; done; do·ing; doestransitive verb 1 : PERFORM, EXECUTE2 : COMMITverbal auxiliary —used with the infinitive without to to form present and past tenses in legal and parliamentary language —do business : to be engaged in business activities (as soliciting sales); specifically : to engage in activities sufficient to subject a foreign company to the personal jurisdiction of a state —see also DOING BUSINESS STATUTE
not:
(nt)adv.
In no way; to no degree. Used to express negation, denial, refusal, or prohibition: I will not go. You may not have any.
call ( P ) (kôl)v. called, call·ing, calls v. tr.
To say in a loud voice; announce: called my name from across the street; calling out numbers.
To demand or ask for the presence of: called the children to dinner; call the police.
To demand or ask for a meeting of; convene or convoke: call the legislature into session.
To order or request to undertake a particular activity or work; summon: She was called for jury duty. He was called to the priesthood.
To give the command for; order: call a work stoppage.
To communicate or try to communicate with by telephone: called me at nine.
To dial (a telephone number): call 911 for help.
To lure (prey) by imitating the characteristic cry of an animal: call ducks.
To cause to come to the mind or to attention: a story that calls to mind an incident in my youth.
To name: What will you call the baby?
To consider or regard as being of a particular type or kind; characterize: Let's call the game a draw. I'd hardly call him a good manager.
To designate; label: Nobody calls me a liar.
To demand payment of: call a loan.
To require the presentation of (a bond) for redemption before maturity.
To force the sale of (a stock or commodity) by exercising a call option.
Sports.
To stop or postpone (a game) because of bad weather, darkness, or other adverse conditions.
To declare in the capacity of an umpire or referee: call a runner out; call a penalty for holding.
To indicate a decision in regard to: calling balls and strikes; called a close play at home plate.
To give the orders or signals for: a quarterback who called a poor play.
You know, it took me all of 30 seconds to get those definitions from dictionary.com -- HOW FREAKING HARD IS IT FOR THE COMPANIES OUT THERE TO FIGURE IT OUT? What good is a Do Not call registry that doesn't work? On top of that, if I'm working online and a telemarketer calls, causing me to lose whatever I was working ON I tend to get a little annoyed.
Of course, there's no one to blame but myself. After all, telemarketers couldn't get me on satelite....could they? Well, they COULD technically, but only if the sun was shining.
Recently I switched away from satelite providing all my services (phone, internet, cable) and returned to a land line phone based system. The reasons? A: I'm really damn tired of my cable bill going up every two months when it's already ridiculous. B: I like to work when it's raining. and C: Because the local provider REALLY pissed me off. As soon as I got the new phone number, I placed it on the national Do Not Call reegistry.
I get enough phone calls from the people I owe money to. There's no need for someone to call me to get me to spend more money.
At any rate, this morning the phone rings at 8:15 a.m. Being a preternaturally light sleeper, of course it woke me up. Since I tended bar last night, I'm thinking it's GOT to be an emergency of some sort. No one in their right mind who knows me would call me before noon the day after a closing shift.
"Good morning, I'm ****** from AOL. I'm calling to -"
"I don't care." Celina is in her full-blown rude state despite being groggy. "Not only it is freaking 8 am, but I work as a bartender AND I'm on the Do Not Call Registry."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Let me double check that against my records."
"Dude, double check away. Write on your little list that regardless of what great deal AOL wants to offer me, I'll drop them as my internet provider if they EVER call this number again."
*Click*
(this would be the spot for the purple smiley guy insertion, Dragon's Den folk)
Yesterday morning, it was this:
"This is an automated message for Edward P. *****. If this is the correct number, please push one. If this person is not available, please push two. If this person is no longer at this number, please press three -"
It was the THIRD time for that phone bot in a week. The first two times, number three was pressed. Time number three, I waited for the HUMAN number to return the call. That was ugly.
Monday morning much the same, only then it was roofing. Satruday night at dinner time, we got the infamous outsourced replacement windows telemarketer.
Okay. Elementary English time. "Do Not Call". Let me break it down for you.
do:
Function: verbInflected Forms: did; done; do·ing; doestransitive verb 1 : PERFORM, EXECUTE2 : COMMIT
not:
(nt)adv.
In no way; to no degree. Used to express negation, denial, refusal, or prohibition: I will not go. You may not have any.
call ( P ) (kôl)v. called, call·ing, calls v. tr.
To say in a loud voice; announce: called my name from across the street; calling out numbers.
To demand or ask for the presence of: called the children to dinner; call the police.
To demand or ask for a meeting of; convene or convoke: call the legislature into session.
To order or request to undertake a particular activity or work; summon: She was called for jury duty. He was called to the priesthood.
To give the command for; order: call a work stoppage.
To communicate or try to communicate with by telephone: called me at nine.
To dial (a telephone number): call 911 for help.
To lure (prey) by imitating the characteristic cry of an animal: call ducks.
To cause to come to the mind or to attention: a story that calls to mind an incident in my youth.
To name: What will you call the baby?
To consider or regard as being of a particular type or kind; characterize: Let's call the game a draw. I'd hardly call him a good manager.
To designate; label: Nobody calls me a liar.
To demand payment of: call a loan.
To require the presentation of (a bond) for redemption before maturity.
To force the sale of (a stock or commodity) by exercising a call option.
Sports.
To stop or postpone (a game) because of bad weather, darkness, or other adverse conditions.
To declare in the capacity of an umpire or referee: call a runner out; call a penalty for holding.
To indicate a decision in regard to: calling balls and strikes; called a close play at home plate.
To give the orders or signals for: a quarterback who called a poor play.
You know, it took me all of 30 seconds to get those definitions from dictionary.com -- HOW FREAKING HARD IS IT FOR THE COMPANIES OUT THERE TO FIGURE IT OUT? What good is a Do Not call registry that doesn't work? On top of that, if I'm working online and a telemarketer calls, causing me to lose whatever I was working ON I tend to get a little annoyed.
Of course, there's no one to blame but myself. After all, telemarketers couldn't get me on satelite....could they? Well, they COULD technically, but only if the sun was shining.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Bleary-eyed and coffee driven
Wow. yesterday was a long day.
I'm looking at my *to do* list and trying not to get discouraged. Although I did manage to finish the anthology story yesterday, I'm at a loss as to what to accomplish today.
I know I have to work on the website. *looks glum* God I hate that.
I also got my cover art for Goddess' Revenge last night! Woohoo! Wanna see? I like it. Okay, okay, I LOVE it, but that's just the ego-driven part of me. Wonder if I can print off a good copy and frame it?
Of course, I do have to concentrate on edits from the proofers at some point today. Maybe that'll be what I should do next.
After I get back from the vet....darn cat.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Update number Two
Whew! Finished the anthology story, clocking in with a final word count of 13,589. Damn. There's still a lot of tweaking to do to it, but I'm reasonably pleased with it. It comes to a natural conclusion for this anthology, doesn't screw up the world, and is a fairly good leaping-off point for future projects.
Now, back to the website.
Now, back to the website.
Update Number One
Managed to rebound on the anthology story. I'm now sitting at 11k again and steamrolling.
Tried to work on my website. Just saw Sierra's revamped version and it made me jealous. Mine still looks like crap.
And, par for the course, I realized when I saw my author bio on the Changeling website today that I'd actually posted the wrong damn name. You have to be pretty stupid to do that.
(Guess who wins Idiot of the Day honors?)
Aside from that, I did manage to get dinner in the oven. Now I'll be able to eat a hot meal while still plugging away on Mneston.
Tried to work on my website. Just saw Sierra's revamped version and it made me jealous. Mine still looks like crap.
And, par for the course, I realized when I saw my author bio on the Changeling website today that I'd actually posted the wrong damn name. You have to be pretty stupid to do that.
(Guess who wins Idiot of the Day honors?)
Aside from that, I did manage to get dinner in the oven. Now I'll be able to eat a hot meal while still plugging away on Mneston.
If Life Is Like A Box of Chocolates...
....then why in the hell do I always end up with licorice?
I think my brain has finally, officially fried. This morning, in an effort to be "productive", I made out a 'to do' list for the week. Within ten minutes, the whole damn thing was nullified. Let me give you a sample:
*Celina's To Do List*
1. Finish anthology story. (I then promptly scrapped another 6k from it and started all over. Glutton for punishment)
2. Work on website. (I then realized that I now need TWO websites--one for me, one for the porn hack)
3. Finish edits. (Still waiting....)
4. Clean house. (what? this cesspool that is nothing but a huge cat toy? Ha! As if....)
5. Get Darkshifters finished. (looks around for muse, kicks her in the rear, and watches her scurry away to the closet)
6. Get all critiques done. (yeah, like I'm going to be able to do that before I finish my own anthology story. Why is the word count going BACKWARDS on it anyway?)
7. Create promotional plan for GR. (uh, okay....how do I spell that again? p - r - o - m -...)
8. Get football plans set at bar. (wait a second....I have to work too?)
9. Impy to vet. (fucking cat....how many felines do you know that get allergy shots because they're allergic to cats?)
10. Dentist appointment on Thursday. (great. another 300 bucks so he can hurt me. geesch.)
11. Get landscaper to --
*phone rings*
Celina: Hello?
Dana: hey! What are you doing?
Celina: Don't even think about it, Dana.
Dana: What?
Celina: I'm too busy. Whatever you're going to ask me, I'm too busy to do it.
Dana: What makes you think I'm going to ask you to do something?
Celina: You always ask me to do something.
Dana: *laughs uncomfortably*
--long pause--
Celina: Well?
Dana: Well what?
Celina: *sighs* What do you want?
Dana: Well, you know that the festival is this week.....
Celina: NO. Absolutely not.
Dana: You don't even know what I'm going to ask!
Celina: I am NOT working extra shifts this week. I have too many deadlines.
Dana: But I fired a bartender...
Celina: I don't give a rat's patootey. Tend bar yourself.
*click*
11. Get landscaper to --
*phone rings*
Celina: Leave me alone, Dana! Goddamnit, I said NO.
Attorney: Uh, Celina ...
Celina: Whoops! Sorry, Andy!
*fifteen minutes later*
11. Get landscaper to --
*phone rings*
*....and rings.....*
*....and rings....*
Get the picture? I forgot what I wanted the landscaper FOR. I think it's something to do with the green stuff that is knee-high in my front yard.
12. Get new erotica book finished and off to Vikky...
It was at this point that I collapsed in helpless laughter. Suuuuuuure, I'll be able to get all of this done, right? If nothing else, I'll chronicle my list of failures in this blog this week. let's see where ambition and reality actually meet.
I think my brain has finally, officially fried. This morning, in an effort to be "productive", I made out a 'to do' list for the week. Within ten minutes, the whole damn thing was nullified. Let me give you a sample:
*Celina's To Do List*
1. Finish anthology story. (I then promptly scrapped another 6k from it and started all over. Glutton for punishment)
2. Work on website. (I then realized that I now need TWO websites--one for me, one for the porn hack)
3. Finish edits. (Still waiting....)
4. Clean house. (what? this cesspool that is nothing but a huge cat toy? Ha! As if....)
5. Get Darkshifters finished. (looks around for muse, kicks her in the rear, and watches her scurry away to the closet)
6. Get all critiques done. (yeah, like I'm going to be able to do that before I finish my own anthology story. Why is the word count going BACKWARDS on it anyway?)
7. Create promotional plan for GR. (uh, okay....how do I spell that again? p - r - o - m -...)
8. Get football plans set at bar. (wait a second....I have to work too?)
9. Impy to vet. (fucking cat....how many felines do you know that get allergy shots because they're allergic to cats?)
10. Dentist appointment on Thursday. (great. another 300 bucks so he can hurt me. geesch.)
11. Get landscaper to --
*phone rings*
Celina: Hello?
Dana: hey! What are you doing?
Celina: Don't even think about it, Dana.
Dana: What?
Celina: I'm too busy. Whatever you're going to ask me, I'm too busy to do it.
Dana: What makes you think I'm going to ask you to do something?
Celina: You always ask me to do something.
Dana: *laughs uncomfortably*
--long pause--
Celina: Well?
Dana: Well what?
Celina: *sighs* What do you want?
Dana: Well, you know that the festival is this week.....
Celina: NO. Absolutely not.
Dana: You don't even know what I'm going to ask!
Celina: I am NOT working extra shifts this week. I have too many deadlines.
Dana: But I fired a bartender...
Celina: I don't give a rat's patootey. Tend bar yourself.
*click*
11. Get landscaper to --
*phone rings*
Celina: Leave me alone, Dana! Goddamnit, I said NO.
Attorney: Uh, Celina ...
Celina: Whoops! Sorry, Andy!
*fifteen minutes later*
11. Get landscaper to --
*phone rings*
*....and rings.....*
*....and rings....*
Get the picture? I forgot what I wanted the landscaper FOR. I think it's something to do with the green stuff that is knee-high in my front yard.
12. Get new erotica book finished and off to Vikky...
It was at this point that I collapsed in helpless laughter. Suuuuuuure, I'll be able to get all of this done, right? If nothing else, I'll chronicle my list of failures in this blog this week. let's see where ambition and reality actually meet.
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