Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
Thank you for all standing by me as I gave my radio blips from the middle of the wilderness, letting you know I was still there, still alive.
As to my art tag references, the first was to Monte Python and the Holy Grail, the second to Douglass Adams.
And now, on to The Letter from two Fridays ago.
I got into med school. :D
Thursday, December 22, 2011
I MADE IT!
Yeah, I did it.
I sent the email that had the attachment that means I'M DONE!
The EPIC JOURNEY is complete.
Or nearly so, but whatever.
I'll post a wrapup tomorrow, of course, and I'll tell you about The Letter.
Clue 2: It was the best early Christmas present EVAR!
Oh procrastination. How I love thee.
Just get me through the next four hours, mind, and we can spend the next week writing gibberish and frivolous stuff like stories about hipster aliens who are trying to take over the world.
And tomorrow marks 2 weeks after The Letter. I'll be telling more about it then...
But the first hint? I've mentioned the process before on AdC...
Midnight is the deadline.
It's one deadline that I will most definitely love the sound when it whooshes by.
Since no one got the reference made in Epic Journey XX, bonus points if anyone gets what I referenced in this post, and double bonus points if you catch the first one.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Yup. I know how it feels... And it happened just as I hit the 25% mark. Still got 6 pages (at least) to write!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
How do you end a paper in which you talk about all the things that are wrong on a positive note?
Maybe I should explain: I'm writing a paper about water rights in my state, and it turns out, there are a lot of things that aren't that good. I give solutions, of course, in my paper, but how do I end it on a positive note when most of the solutions aren't that practical and aren't that tangible?
Monday, December 19, 2011
It's very interesting...
Oh yeah. We've all done NaNoWriMo. Should have remembered. We've all been there.
Well this time, there is No Way Out. Damn figuring out how to commit to projects.
But that still leaves the mountain to climb. Time to set out. This weekend was a great rest break, and now, it's time for the slog to the end.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
I"m not going to say I'm in trouble yet.
But that's the general consensus.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
I can do this. I can do this.
Art the Unsure
You wake up, and it's morning. You know that this is the time when you should be leaving your warm hut and continuing on the journey, but breakfast calls, then time to read by the fire, and you know what you're doing is wrong, but it feels so right, so you do it.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
You've done it. You've made it through the first day, and you see that hut on the top of the hill where you're going to spend the night. Inside, there is a warm fire, and maybe even company, but most importantly of all, there is a soft, warm bed waiting for you. That bed is your refuge, that place where you can go when things look rough, and by the time you wake up, everything is good again.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Yup. Here I go, into that hazy world in which so much happens and not as much is possible as in fiction.
Wish me luck. If I survive, I'll tell you a little more about The Letter from Last Friday.
Art the Intrepid
Friday, December 9, 2011
I'd try to imagine how I'd be feeling right now. Elation and joy, of course. The thrill of the unknown. Nerves at leaving my childhood home. But when I imagined them, they never felt quite like this. I'm on top of the world.Truth is, I'm still in shock. I think the top of the world feeling will come tomorrow, will come later, will come when I've processed everything that just happened.
But things are never going to be the same.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
It's because of you that I'm turning in my card as a writer.
Well, that and the internet.
But it's true!!!
If not for you, I'd enjoy writing. As it is, writing is one of those things where you want to faceplant face onto keyboard repeatedly--and sadly, it'd probably come up with better results than the actual writing is.
You know, I totally wasn't going to post until finals was over, just because I knew it would turn into another one of those rants about procrastination, but yeah... I couldn't resist.
So here's my card. Here is my badge, too, to get me into the secret writer's lounge that I've never actually visited but have heard it is really cool.
Wait... why do we have a card and a badge? Isn't that a little redudant?
Monday, December 5, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Can you believe it? A year ago M and I made our first posts. I, for one, have to say thank you to the Typosphere for embracing us. For me, at least, it's so great to feel a part of a community outside my little world.
This year has been a year of up and downs. We've had some awesome memes (cowcasts and the Rhinos), and some sad times (my truck getting wrecked right after discovering Parry's office supplies.) But it's been a very good year. I'm thankful for that.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Well, it's taken me a while to really tell if I like it or not. Sure, there are quirks that I still done love, like the fact that it's not happy writing in an upright position or that the grip forces me to use that proper position like my teachers taught. But overall, wow. It hangs out in my bag, occaisionally being inverted, and it hasn't yet leaked or gotten messy. It writes well on a plane or on the ground, and doesn't feather (although I'm not thrilled with it in a Moleskine... or maybe it is just the ink.) But yeah. It's awesome. I'm now one of those people who carries a fountain pen with them everywhere, just to be cool like that.
That's all for now. :)
Monday, November 28, 2011
Yay for being a procrastinator.
And sad news in that November is almost over. I need to get the SCSS fixed so I can at least type a page and say that I'm something of a Brigadier.
Okay, rambling is over. Sometime soon, I'm going to do my NaNoWriMo writeup and then we'll go from there...
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
So, what will I be spending my Thanksgiving weekend doing?
The following, and in this order:
A research project on the various high altitude adaptions of global populations
A project examining the effects of the young male population in modern china, and the propensity for revolution
And finally, a project detailing water rights and issues surrounding them and food security in Utah and beyond.
They're due in that order, starting Dec. 7 and one a week after that. And there is a thesis I wrote... yeah, it really needs to be done, and my application for a masters program--my backup if I don't get into medical school this year.
So I just want to let you know that I may not be around for a while, you know? Trying to get all of this done may well drive me crazy, but that's okay. :)
Monday, November 21, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Okay, it's been a little over a day. And it involved 12,310 words. But I FINISHED! I matched my time from way back in 2007. 17 days. Yay. Finishing like this means I get to check out this consignment shop I've been eyeing...
Wow. What a feeling.
Okay, going to watch my rhino play with his new wings. And to get a real rhino for pictures today!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Sadly, I have not found any I like yet. Going to have to figure something else out. :P Going to start looking for other places to shop.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Day 10 update.
I'm stuck. I outlined in October and now I can't look at it without getting nervous. that's not a good thing. See, Clemens, your side isn't always better. In the course of today, I've gone from two ideas to do four, the latest involving a merry band of woodland ninjas facing a sock shortage who decide to become pirates. Whoo.
Eight hundred words until I hit 30k. Then I sleep.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
2. all you Nanowrimo crazies? CARRY ON! YOU MAKE ME PROUD! (may I have time next year to actually join your ranks)
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Maybe I should just pants this one as well... that's the problem with loving a novel. You can love it too much, making it tough to give it the tough love it needs.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Yup, the blog is as empty as my mind used to be.
Now I'm moving on to a full rewrite of my novel. Not just going to write the new section for NaNo '11. I'm going to rewrite the whole damn thing. And it's going to be awesome.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Yea, and though the source was not new, the inspiration was, and it is a beautiful thing.
Finally, after 4 years, this is an idea that may come to completion.
Or at least closer to it.
Let November come.
We will be ready.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Like the words of the song say, Never Mind Me
I'm probably looking at the sky, trying to find a reason why...
Me writing these things are nothing sinister.
Writing is my release, my way of letting go of the fears that might hold me back.
It lays down the foundation for greatness... greatness stepping on stones of things that once were walls.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Yup. Solitaire. Internet TV. Firefly Reruns. You name it, I've done it these past weeks. You'd think it would be easy to stop.
But it's not.
It's a drug.
Writer's Drug of Choice.
Complete with harsh side effects like angry editors and self-loathing.
Get yours today!
Friday, October 7, 2011
The tingly kind, where you can't wait, like Christmas morning.
But this year, I feel something different, something new.
Looks like an innocuous word, right?
It's not. It's like fear. A word that conveys so much in so little and I don't like it.
It's what I'm feeling this year.
Sure, nerves are nothing new. I've felt that for a few years now.
This year, I'm unsure.
Unsure if I'll be able to do it.
Unsure if I'll come up with an idea.
The list could go on, but what it boils down to is
D-Day is 23 days away.
Maybe it is because there are bigger things to worry about, bigger fish to fry.
Hopefully that is the case, and come November 1, the words flow like they always do.
Let's hope that is the case.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
As the teaser suggests, I did it.
Granted, I did end up paying more than I would have through Goulet or Jetpens, but still. I have the satisfaction of being able to shop local.
Though, I am going to virtually slap LFP and MT Coalhopper for introducing me to the Goulet site--I'd never been there before, and that was probably a good thing. :P
So.. here's the specs.
Paid $35.00 for it, 4.95 for the converter, and 4.50 for a pack of cartridges because I was impatient and thought I'd get a chance to use it before I got home where there is ink. (I didn't, but oh well. I now have Lamy Blue-Black Ink on hand and in the pen!) Bout a five to eight dollar difference when you consider shipping, but that's okay.
The color is closest to the picture from Goulet above--my phone couldn't get the color right, and I don't know where my card reader is for my camera. But truth is, it's just pretty. It'll be really pretty with black ink.
But above all:
In the shop, the pen had a medium nib on it. This is the great thing about small stores--the guy (I think the owner's son) replaced it with a Fine nib from another pen for me. No charge.
So... writing with it... it's different experience. The Fine Nib is pretty fine--my Waterman is a broad medium nib, while my Schaeffer is spidery and cool. I'm glad I didn't go with the extra-fine nib. I like superfine points for my cramped notes handwriting, but at that same time, a fountain pen isn't the best medium for that sort of writing--I tend to hold the pen more upright, and very close to the end. A fountain pen, especially one that is specifically shaped like the Lamy, doesn't so much allow me to do that, but I'm okay with that. Makes it perfect for the more relaxed writing I like when I'm drafting. I might order a medium nib, just for variety and maybe even a bold--remember, I love a bold line on yellow paper--but we'll see where things goes.
Monday, September 26, 2011
I'm buying a lamy safari. I decided this last week. But, here is my question.
Do I pay more to support the local stationary shop, or do I give in to the man and buy it online and save some money?
I'm torn. Honestly. I like money and having it, which is an argument for ordering. And, more waiting might make me appreciate it more (although I have already waited nearly a week.). But, buying local is better for the environment and does good to support the cute old man who owns the shop. And he has a pink one. I like pink.
I think I know what I'm going to do... anyone else want to chime in?
Thursday, September 22, 2011
I will be posting pictures when I go back to buy a Lamy Safari--I now understand what the fuss is about. He has Clairefontaine too. And lots of other stuff. Nearly forty years in business..
Course, less than 20 minutes after I left this place, some dude totaled his truck on mine, so the day went kinda wonky after that... But still. I've got something to look forward to.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Anyway, the new semester brought me an awesome new opportunity: to be on the staff of my university's student literary journal. I'm already hooked. We meet weekly, feed each other gourmet foods (i.e. pancakes, curried chicken, chips and salsa...whatever we have on hand), and talk poetry, short stories, and essays. Submissions will start arriving soon and I can't wait. I'll be editing the poetry. I'm going to miss this when I graduate. There will be fewer opportunities to have discussions like these; to spend time with people who think about these things. I'm trying my hardest to relish every second.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Maybe I should get on them... Okay, new question: What should be my reward to myself for finishing them?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Yup, I'm suffering from it. I've got 12 essays of varying length to write for applications, and I'm stuck on them. Sure, I've got a few ideas, but when I sit down and write them, they fizzle. Badly. I know I've complained about this before, but it sucks! I need inspiration, and quickly--the essays just keep piling up. Five of those 12 came in today.
So, I'm going to ask you all again, as I've probably done in the past. HELP! What do you do to get rid of Writer's Block?
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
So are you all this excited for this too?
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Yup, that's about it for the update right now.
I'm going to go back to working on the complete rewrite of my 2007 preNaNo project.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Now, this year, they didn't have everything that I was looking for, like my favorite legal pads, but I didn't do too bad...
So, take a look at the haul, all $386 of it...
Five books for one class. Looks like it's going to be fascinating, but still. It's a lot of reading.
Got the last copy of this one. The new edition comes out next year, with this one being over 10 years old, so you'd expect some used copies, right? Nope. Had to buy it new.
As I work on this post, I'm waiting for this last class to start. The prof just walked in... But the books look fascinating.
Besides the required books, I also scored a few fun things.
Like this new Zebra fountain pen. Never seen them before, never seen a review of them, but it looks pretty... although when I did a writing test (full review to be posted soon), I'm not quite sure how I like it. Maybe I just like the weight of a nicer fountain pen... but $4.99 was cheap!
I've also fallen in love with the look of a broad line on yellow paper... So, there are two pads of yellow paper in my stash, as well as some new broad points.
I scored a few new pens and a clicky highlighter.
And of course, a pad of one of my favorite papers.
And, last, but of course, not least, a new General's Layout Pencil. As you can see in the picture below, the last one I bought is growing shorter by the day. I love this pencil.
And thus concludes the tour de supplies for this semester... or at least this first week. I'm sure I'll be picking more up as the semester goes along...
Monday, August 22, 2011
- a second chance
- LAVA HOT SPRINGS
- the Chuckwagon, the scandal, the ambulance, the river rafting...
- two hours of cheesy Taylor Swift sing-a-long with the Bartman
- and the resulting voice loss
- Polynesian dance
- discovering the teacher I've been all along
- passing notes
- coming home late to the blessed relief of oreos on the kitchen counter
- being told I clean up well and a guy staring just confirming it
- three fat kittens on my lap all at once
- the mossy swimming hole
- Chick and Bandit, oh the doggy devotion
- eight-year Ginger driving me on the four wheeler, I thought I was going to die
- goat meat
- sleeping on the screened porch listening to sprinklers, trains, coyotes, and Uncle Steve baling hay
- the laundry rock and the view that goes with it
- hunting the broody chicken
- birthday plotting
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
There's a song from Wicked that I love.
It well may beYou never really think about what someone means to you until they're gone, right? You might see them everyday and say I love you, but that's it. You don't tell them thank you, thank you for all of the things that they've given you or the way they've changed your life.
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
For me, the saying goodbye is the hardest part. Death, while but the next great adventure, is tough. Even though it isn't the end, while the spiral just continues on, at the time, it feels so final. I always come back to the same Big and Rich song at times like this.
It's complicated, when love has faded
And you can't hold on anymore
You gotta let go even though you know
Your heart's gonna hate it
And it just might break it
The only solution, is making the conclusion
That it's just another lesson in life
Even though it's over,
it's never really over at goodbye
No matter how hard you try
[Chorus:]I've cried my tears, and now, it's time to celebrate a life. The life that gave me two of dearest friends, the ones who have been there when all my human friends have gone away. I'll see you on the other side, mama horse.
You never stop loving somebody
No matter what you tell yourself
You never stop loving somebody
You just, start loving somebody else
|I have him because of her.|
I guess there is just one last thing to say...
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Close your mind to sentiment and your heart to feeling.
Run, run faster than you've ever run before.
Hide away, lock yourself away from the pain that is sure to come.
Forget the joy, the sorrows, the laughter, forget it all.
Embrace the unfeeling twilight.
Embrace the fall.
Monday, August 8, 2011
I fully understand why repetition is such a part of religion. I walk these trails, swim these lakes, climb these mountains, and search this feeling out in the same order, every year. It is my trip to Mecca, my cathedral, and my Wailing Wall. My pilgrimage begins in a drive to the top of the world and a small descent into a dimple in it. My supplicant steps take me over the flats and to Ferron, Deep, Duck, and Emerald waters respectively. I bow to the family trees and meditate in the fields of indian paintbrush and count my riches in the creeks running gold. And the rhythm gained here lasts the year...my pilgrimage is complete.
Friday, August 5, 2011
I take a second look at my hands, and I see more than i saw the first time.
They've been ripped up from doing work on the house, long red marks where the blisters have popped and the skin hasn't quite healed yet. There's white bits of skin too, loose skin that I'm constantly picking at. There's scrapes and slashes from the world, where I've been doing construction where and a loose nail just happens to catch on my skin, or a errant dog claws tends to find a home, long lines on my arm.
Looking at my hands, I wonder if I'm going the right place in my life. Would I be better as an artist, finding time to paint and to sculpt, always having clay under my nails? I see my fingers and feel the strength in them, strength that lets me throw a damn sexy pot on the wheel. I wonder if working with clay all the time is the way that i should go, or if people is more my style. The, I remember what I was doing a few days ago, remember why I chose the path that i was on.
It's still raining outside, and I can feel the coldness of the support pillar against my back as I lean on it and drink my coffee. I'm here, sitting, watching the people at the museum, again, knowing why i do what I do.
But back to the hands again, hands that can span ten white keys on the piano without thinking, hands that love to play jazz and blues and everything in between. These are hands that are more than just a writers hands, more than just the hands of a sometimes horse trainer and potter. They're not just working hands. They are hands that hold a story in their depths, each crease, each line and scar a memory, a tattoo with a better story.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
I wonder it would be like if someone were to change bodies with me and see my hands.
They aren't the hands of someone who spends a life inside, fingers white and soft, the nails manicured. No, my hands are those what have done a day's work outside.
But if someone were to look at my hands, what would they say? Would they comment in the numerous scars from years of playing with knives and other tools, the burns from ropes, the calluses of a shovel, and the fine lines the sun and clay leave in someone's hands. I've got long fingers perfect for playing the piano, and the strength in them from long years of doing just that.
My nails aren't perfect--and i don't want them to be that way. I'd rather have paint and clay under my nails than the perfect French Manicure every day.
I look down at my hands right now, and I see many things. There is the scar on the back of my right hand from where I got hit with a garbage can, and the three white scars on my thumb from metal ribs and glass when casting one of my first glass sculptures. I've got blisters from remodeling, angry red patches that hurt when I type, but remind me of the happy work that I've been doing.
I've got calluses, too, calluses from long days using a shovel and a pitchfork, calluses and scars from the effects of baling twine and hauling hay. Mine are working hands, and I like that about them. I like the constant black smudges from ink and the perpetual hard spot on my middle finger that comes from writing with a fountain pen.
I wouldn't trade my hands with anyone.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Last year, I wrote that I wanted to tighten up my writing, to remove the fluff and crap that had long been the bane of my sometimes existence. Well, I've officially done that. Try cutting words to make character counts out of pieces that are super tight. IT SUCKS! But, it's definite improvement--last year, they were so fluffy that it is now nauseating.
Yup, just wanted to give a shoutout to myself.
Now, I may well go find some fútbol to watch.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Due to lack of time and computer access for the time being, I'm going to be posting the rest of my vignettes in August, as they're not conducive to being published on my mobile. Please forgive me for being tardy with this, but life gets in the way sometimes.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
There's a new callus forming on my right hand, this one on the webbing between my thumb an fingers--from the rope constantly sliding through. It just adds character, along with the countless other calluses I've got.
There's a new scar too. Looks like someone tried to take a bite out of my hand, like when my dad got bit trying to break up a dog fright years ago. Mine's from the wall. It sits in a different plane than my scar from California, where I did nearly the same thing, but on sea rocks when our bridge was washed out by the tide and we were forced to jump for it. To this day, I saw the seawater kept it from getting infected.
In this light, my veins seem to melt fully into the muscle--normally, they are an ER tech's dream--big and defined, waiting to be poked. But tonight, they are quiet and everything is smooth. just the scars as a landmark in the map of the places that I've been.
Monday, July 25, 2011
My cold bum tingles and I stuggle to stay aboard as the ice cream hardens and the churn bucks and shivers. Dad is groaning and trying to pressgang some boy cousin into taking over. I scrunch my toes and pry up deck slivers. Grandma fusses and swipes at passing faces with her ever handy damp rag. Small Ella staggers past, trying to keep up with all the other littles. She trips over my feet and tries again. Liv and Luz twirl for Grandpa. He hums Vivaldi under his breath. The interrogating aunts have congregated and my sister is hunting for cover. The Jeremy Uncle is probably ensconced in the bathroom. Uncles Tim and Dal taunt my sore-armed father. Boy cousins play Annie-Ay-Over and the Sarah cousin defeats them all. There is the thrum of babies and fifty-six feet and the clatter of dishes and misguided balls. There is us and we and a symphony and then there is ice cream and me in the middle. And it is good. It is good.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
"You're the one who fell."
"Thought you were going to catch me."
"What?" Dave asks, walking into the conversation, "just happened?"
"He dropped me!" Call shouts, pointing at McCoy in an indignant fashion.
"That's what you get for for not tying your bloody knot properly." McCoy retorts, "Not all my fault."
"Yeah, but you should have checked the damn knot! Didn't you learn anything?!"Call says, face going even more red.
Dave just shakes his head, turning away from them and sitting down at the desk. They never learned.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
It was the day before Christmas Break, 2010.
"Paul, try to be calm."
"I'm not calm! I'm not calm!" Paul shouts, dancing around, icing bag in hand. I instinctively duck as a stream of icing lands on his gingerbread house with a splat, obliterating the icicles we had just finished adding to the roof line. "Oops." He says, sitting back down with a thud, "Avalanche." He sticks two pretzels and a marshmallow snowman onto the icing and turns to me with a satisfied grin.
"What's he doing?" I ask.
His logic was sound, and all I could do was laugh.
Okay, folks, I need your opinions. BE HONEST, PLEASE! Would you keep reading an essay that started with this, or would you just throw it aside, citing my writing as juvenile and the subject matter totally irrelevant? I plan on linking my love of teaching to medicine, but that comes in the next paragraph.
Monday, July 18, 2011
I hung upside down from the clothesline poles, I jumped from stone to stone, and stripped the raspberry brambles of their fragile fruit. I made the sky my cathedral and the water in the pond my marble floor. I wove the branches of the pine to make my pavilion; the arms of the sycamores my thicket; and I was a doe, a fox, a hare, a red wing blackbird.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
In theatrical script writing, sketch stories, and poetry, a vignette is a short impressionistic scene that focuses on one moment or gives a trenchant impression about a character, an idea, or a setting and sometimes an object. This type of scene is more common in recent postmodern theater, where less emphasis is placed on adhering to the conventions of theatrical structure and story development. Vignettes have been particularly influenced by contemporary notions of a scene as shown in film, video and television scripting.
Personally, I see the vignette as something a bit lighter. A snapshot, if you will, of a person, place, time, event, thought, or feeling. It could be an essay, a poem, a journal entry, or even a script like Snohomish posted the other day. I always see it like a vignette picture--you're looking through the window at whatever is before you.
But the honest truth is:
IT'S WHATEVER YOU WANT IT TO BE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Strands of wet hair stick to my freckled shoulders and I feel the cleanest of cleans; beautiful. It is only to be found in this spring, these streams, that lake. Clean. Why do clean and dirt and green all crop up in the same thought phrases? I comb my dripping hair in the dim. A hummingbird zips home to sleep. I rub lavender oil into my skin. The cracked mirror gleams. Bag balm for my lips. Lastly I dress: softest of shirts, oldest of shorts. I hear the last pops from the fire pit and the generator roaring to life. I step out into the bedtime bustle.
Pajamas on, beds set out, treats unhidden, the snap and hiss of Black Cherry Shasta cans, the crack of stuck matches, puff and glow of lighting candles. Dark descends. Dad puts on the kettle. We scrounge for cards. Grandpa turns off the generator. And we sit up into the night. Dark and light. Beautiful. And I always win at cards. Beautiful.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Typed on my 1955 Smith Corona Silent-Super. Oh how I wish this machine was running full steam, rather than mostly out of commission. I forgot how much I love the feel of the SCSS. And, it's a ton more readable than my handwriting--was originally going to pencast this.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
...As a child I don't much remember sleeping. I do remember the heels of Dad's running shoes glowing in his closet and the hard floor beneath me and my sister's mumbling and her leg thrown over mine. But mostly the window torches. The glass of my window was old and opaque and wavy, distorting the neighbor's porch light. I imagined it a torch--many torches, and a band of people to carry them. I would lie and think of them as an angry mob, a band of outcasts, a welcome home; as a farewell, a fairy dance, a gypsy camp. They were pirates and shepherds and witch-hunters and stars. I would lie and imagine 'til I no longer thought but dreamed. So I don't much remember sleeping.
Friday, June 24, 2011
As many of you know, I love vignettes. Small portraits of a moment, a place, a time. So, to help with writing the many essays that will be coming this summer, I want to introduce a challenge.
15 vignettes, thirty (one) days. 15 snapshots, related or unrelated--it doesn't matter. The challenge starts July 1.
Indicate your interest in the comments. I look forward to seeing the vignettes you all come up with--I for one will be posting my 15 on arsdecarta.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Wait, scratch that. Never thought growing up was a good idea. Which is why I've been avoiding it.
But, right now, I'm working two jobs, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Teaching all day leaves me tired, so I just go home and crash. This isn't cool. I like having the time to hang out and think and write...
But, there are definite upsides to this gig. Like no longer being a broke student, and maybe even being able to afford a typewriter if I find one... that's a good thing. Plus I've discovered a few new thrift shops that I might drag M along to visit one weekend.
Yeah, that's about all right now... But!!!
Stay tuned for Friday! Big announcement coming!
Friday, June 17, 2011
And I'll be back next week with actual content, not just haiku and links... once my brain returns from wherever it ran off to at noon yesterday as I walked out of the MCAT.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
- weather that's finally appropriate for the season
- a Solstice party
- "Oh, Karl..."
- my first Real game
- playing soccer mom, juice boxes and all
- clothes that make me look tan
- brand new kids...as in baby goats
- Memorial Day malts
- borrowing the neighbor's toddlers for a few hours entertainment
- homemade apple pie
- broadening my culinary capabilities
- being the dictionary/encyclopedia/overall reference book girl
- summer walks to DQ
- riding in the new (read ancient) Saab convertible
- having time to blog
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Step out of the door.
The minute I do, she'll slip in, a wraith, a ghost. A soft and browngrey and fluffy ghost with bright bluegreen eyes that change color in the light.
She thinks she's fierce, going to battle with a magpie out on the lawn, fur and feathers turning into a blur as they circle.
Today, the magpie wins, flying triumphantly into a tree to brag while she scowls below. Just wait, magpie, she says, One day, I'll be victorious.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
I would have to pay for my love of paper.
Now, I'm in the final days before the biggest test of my life, and I think I finally know what the problem is. It's a computer based test, and I'm a luddite. I like my science on paper in front of me, where I can highlight and annotate to my heart's delight. Even a fancy program like Skim just doesn't do it for me. I've now got 12 days to figure out how to improve my reading comprehension and test taking on a computer.
Any suggestions on improving my performance?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
I'm coming to the end of yet another notebook, and right now, I've got no clue of where to go next. My current choice is the one you see to the left--softcover Miquelrius, squared pages. It's taken a beating over the past 9 months and still looks good. But choosing a new notebook is always tough. Here's what I've got in my current stock. I'd love any opinions.
This is the notebook I started out with, or nearly so--my first was smaller. But the Moleskine. As we all know, it's...
The legendary notebook of Chatwin and Hemingway.Course, that may mean something, or it may not. My first notebook when I decided to be a "writer" was a little Moleskine that took me a year to fill up. Now, I've gotten faster, but also, more abusive. My last Moleskine was falling apart by the time i got done with it, and that's a major disadvantage. I'm tough on my books, and how long they last is a major determination. That said, the Moleskine is a classic, full of history for me, full of a lot of good times.
I found these notebooks a long while ago in my university bookstore, and fell in love with the pretty colors and softness of the leather. They're a limited edition put out by the Victoria and Albert Museum, and are luxurious. Soft calfskin, thick, smooth paper with tiny lines, they're nearly perfect. Not to mention they smell absolutely lovely.
But I feel bad for disrespecting them this way, by dragging the book around everywhere and it getting beat up and nasty. Last time I had one of these was one of the toughest times in my life, but at the same time, one of the good times.
The New Kid
But, there's the smell. A polysomething smell that doesn't go away--it doesn't smell like good paper or any of the things we love. It can handle the beating that being in my bag entails, but lately, I haven't felt super inspired to write lately--and make that's just me. These past 9 months, they've been very up and down. Now, I know that notebooks don't determine how things go, but...
The Slight Disappointment
This is the Paperblank. Taller than a pocket Moleskine, narrower than the Miquelrius, it's a nice size. The paper isn't bad, but the cover has a way of doing strange things as it gets used.
The last one of these corresponds with what I guess I could call my hell year, when things weren't so good, so do I take that into account? Or do I give this book another chance?
I have two beautiful handmade leather journals that I got from M in a trade--she got dishes I made. They're beautiful and smell of the most divine oiled leather. Do I use them?
Writing this, I came to a realization, one that kind of makes me wonder... how does a notebook play into our lives? Does using one or the other have any effect on how things go, or are they just along for the ride; a correlation, not causation?
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
...getting the job! (My first outside the science sphere.)
...lying on the grass, feeling the chill burn off and the world grow shiny.
...having MnahMnah by the Muppets running through my head.
...The thought of creativity.
...Summer on the horizon.
...bright blue toenail polish.
...typewriters on the grass.
and most importantly?
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
I wonder if this is what it is like in the rainforest, only warmer--right now, it feels more like February than May.
The tree I ran into earlier is back to dripping water--took only a few minutes to recoup the water it dumped onto my head when I ran into it.
I look out the window and see water pooling at the edge of the plastic covering the potted plants on the back porch--they're still fragile from being potted and it's going to get cold tonight.
There's tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner, and I'm excited. Perfect food for a perfectly rainy day.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
So what do I do with myself? I plan on writing more, and for the blog, as it I think will be a major help for my applications. I've been wanting to try and get two pieces published for this blog network I read, so I'll be glad for the time to finally sit down and write them. And I think I want to finish my scripts, maybe write another summer novel...
It's going to be strange to not have classes this summer. Everyone keeps telling me I should take a gap year between gradation and going to med school, but the thing is, I have absolutely no clue what I'd do with myself. Like I said--the thought of even a summer off is crazy. I love being busy and having somewhere to go and something to do.
So I'll leave it here for now. Stay tuned, as I think that there is some pretty awesome stuff on the way.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Not the summer we're used to, for sure.
But, I kind of like it. Makes it feel like the UK, just a bit, makes me miss the people there just a bit less.
I dug worms earlier today, to be used to paint.
And yes, they are real worms, as I just heard her say.
I'm in a bit of a daze, that pre-summer daze where nothing quite seems real.
So is it real? Or is it just a figment of the rain?
Monday, May 9, 2011
I covered a six foot by four foot area with stacks of books almost three feet tall, and that doesn't count picture books and the ones scattered around the house. See, I have this sneaky system: if I don't keep all my boxes of books in the same place, my compulsive-anti-pack-rat mother doesn't realize how many there are, precluding her from feeling the itch the throw some out. She realizes now. The look on her face was classic horror. And my dad said that he'd just start checking books out from me rather than the public library. I think he looks forward to the day I'm gone for good, because between my antique furniture and my books waiting for a less transient home he'll be getting half of his workshop back someday.
Henry Ward Beecher says that, "Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house." When my Dad gets his workshop back a house will come into existence where every room has bookshelves and every flat surface has a stack of books on it. They will line the walls and the halls and the top of the piano. My children will use them to hold down the corners of their blanket forts and be the floors and walls of their doll houses as they reenact the stories in them. I can't wait for that house.
Friday, May 6, 2011
That said, science is mind blowing. And usually in a good way. But then there are those days when your mind feels like mush and all you want to do is curl up with some fiction and ignore anything remotely intellectual. That's where I should be, having been working on this paper for at least 8 hours. But, strangely, I'm not.
Well, I wasn't when I started this post 4 hours ago. Now I'm nearing the twelve hour mark, and I've still got an essay to write on cooperation and selfish genes.
Sorry for a most uninteresting week, folks. Summer will be here when I push the submit button for this essay, so you can hope for a slight jump in quality...
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I was wrong. I haven't written much, even though about 10,000 words is due by midnight tomorrow. Instead, I played a drag racing game on my phone for a while. And then thought about doing my essays and paper. And thought some more. And then looked through Richard Polt's site looking for new typerwriter fonts. I'm officially in love with the Royal Vogue font. I want one of those machines. Badly. That would make a great present. (hint hint wink wink)
I think that's all I have to say today. My brain is still somewhat fried from finals and trying to not think like the scientist I am. It's difficult.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
This year was a good year for the Frenzy. I really like my scripts, and I think they have potential. That's a happy thing.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
The thing is, you have to have a working understanding of Dinosaur and it's derivatives to really understand the language of someone like Blobby. Take the word GUMPO. For most dinosaurs, this is well outside what we would expect in the normal vocable range. However, as demonstrated in the interview, Blobby is unique. Therefore, we must venture into the vast array of dialects that this wonderfully complex and beautiful language encompasses.
In ornithomimid (the language of bird-like dinosaurs), there is the word "garah." More colloquially, it is "garop". Granted, at first, this does not sound like GUMPO, but if you understand the etymology of the word, the connection becomes clear. It means "love." Love of flying, love of life, and of art, much like "rawr," a word well known in Common Dinosaur. But what differentiates it is 'Rawr" is often "I Love you." "garah" is general love for everything. It comes from the common word "quoop." Quoop is love.
Quoop came out of Dinostock 92, the precursor to our own Woodstock. Unlike most common dinosaur words, it is difficult for sober land dinosaurs to vocalize. But throw in a little weed, and anything becomes possible. Well, Dinostock 92 faded into legend, but the word remained well loved in the stoner community. Well, some of those stoners eventually grew up, but they retained their heritage. But they could not produce the joyous Quoop while sober. So, they came up with a new version, and it spread like wildfire, as many dinosaurs were forced to grow up in the boom extinction event that took out much of the older population. Without parental support, they were on their own. The word was Rumpro. They kept the meaning the same, one of free love and joy and love for the world.
Well, years have passes, ad it's taken on many forms. North American dinosaurs turned it into GUMPO. European dinos kept on using Rumpro, but for the rest of the world, they embraced innovation, and Gumpo spread as the word for love. Love of writing, of life, of music and caffeine and good friends.
theanab, dinosaur linguist.Love.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Now I'm not talking about the ignorant sort of snark that you find on the internet today, where people get together and act all smart and mean. Not in the least. That's not how I define it.
What I'm talking about is a bunch of smart people who get together and talk about random things--chaos is important (and we've been known to discuss chaos theory, though that lends itself more to being intellectual.) But while talking about these random things, we manage to sound all intellectual, even though for most of us, we only have a cursory knowledge of the subject. Truth is, I don't know how we manage it. Maybe it is just because most of us are somewhat educated and understand language and grammar. Or it might be that we talk loudly and with passion, throwing our hands in the air and drawing on imaginary chalkboards... Take your pick; I'm sure you can find a good reason for it.
Finals are upon me now, so I'm honing my intellectual brain. See ya on the flip side.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Took me 20 days.
That's the longest I've ever spent to win a Frenzy. My first year, 4 days. Second, 3 days. And last year, it was either 2 or 3.
But this year, life just kept happening and I didn't have the long blocks of time to sit and bash out a ton of text. Once my NaNo ran out, I was flying solo (I didn't even know how the story ended), something I didn't do last year. Last year, the whole thing was completely written out for me, just needed to be strung together. But, I like how it turned out. The script isn't finished yet, but I know how it ends. And I know how the sequel starts, and I"m pretty stoked about it.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
So, back to the standby. Enjoy a bit of noir.
Int. Jack's Office
Shot fades in as Jack is talking.
She walked, no, she stalked into my office, gun still in her hand.
JESSICA is silhouetted in the doorway as she walks in.
Hey kitten. What you doing with that big of a gun.
I've been doing what needs to be done.
As all the men in this town were afraid to do it.
Sets the gun down.
Couldn't see what color her hair is beneath that hat, but I'd bet you it's red.
She walks out and he picks up the phone and dials.
That dame, she's seen it all. She's been around as long as any of us could remember, and she was the one that could get you any information you ever could want.
She was called Sylvia, but we never know if that is her real name. She had a reputation and lived up to it, if you could pay the price. Now, I didn't know if I could, but that woman had shaken me and I wanted to know why.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
My script about the robot has stalled. I'm to this scene where one of my fave chars shows his extreme social awkwardness and how he copes. And honestly, I'm nervous to write it, because it's kinda crazy how he copes. With a sock puppet.
But my noir? I'm nearly to the end of where I wrote for NaNo. But the good thing is that I have the rest of it laid out. Now I just have to write the dialogue for it.
Red Hot Steel: 47
RHS looks like it may run shorter than 100 pages, but I'm okay with that. It's not meant to be long and drawn out. I'd rather it be a bit shorter and a whole lot sweeter. Although it does mean I may be able to add more characterization and backstory in somewhere... But I'm not to the second draft yet.
Until next week.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
In light of all the crap that has been going on in my life, I took some time to think about what I was doing wrong, what could lead to everything seemingly going downhill. I've got a lot of theories, but it's one of them I want to focus on right now.
I realized that I was acting like an ungrateful little brat. Which means that everything that happened makes a lot more sense now. So today, I want to list a few people that I am grateful for. They made Thursday a better day than I had thought it would be.
1. Ryan from my gym. He taught me how to lead climb. For free. Instead of insisting I pay like most people. And he's just a cool guy.
2. Mr. Ken Sanders himself. He took the time to talk to me about the books I bought, and it was like "Wow. This guy that I barely know did something amazing. He made me feel important." That's something that I haven't felt in a while.
3. The guy at Now and Again. He was just nice, and not rude to a random kid like some shop owners are. And his dogs are cute. I'll go back, even though he says that typewriters last a day, max. That's an interesting sign. Where are all the Utah typospherians? Or are they just decorating with typers?
I like 3. It's a good number. So I'll leave it there.
Until next week.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Yeah, I just used that word. Sorry M and others who don't like it.
But it fits.
Was going to whine about how I'm mad at myself for screwing things up in my life, but I don't know. Maybe I'll just rant about language. Or pseudointellectualism. Or any of the other random things that I could write about.
Well, enjoy what I found on Matador.
Notes on the Underground
Monday, April 11, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Working on two scripts right now--the noir that you've seen parts of already and a story with the the following tagline:
In which a misprogrammed, fatalistic robot and a bunch of ragtag heroes embark on an epic quest to save the world.Yeah, that one's awesome. It involves the circus. :) And even better: The whole idea came out of a bunch of Script Frenzy dares I took a couple of years back and never used.
I'm 22 for sure pages into the robot story, with a bunch to transcribe, and 18 into the noir, which is an adaptation of one of last year's NaNo novels.
Doing an adaptation is always interesting. If I've got an idea for Script Frenzy and want to start on it before April, I'll write it as prose, as a novel, and then follow the rule for adaptation. But this one came to life first as a novel--I though it might be cool to adapt, but it wasn't the one that was written for that purpose. Last year's Dieselpunk NaNo was meant to be SF this year, but it just didn't feel right. I think I'm an action writer at heart. :)
Okay, enough of my ramblings. Stay tuned for next Friday's week two update!