You Should be Writing

There's a whole series of memes online, usually perpetuated by authors, academics, or freelance writers, that distills down to:

You Should Be Writing.

That could be the theme of the blog the last few years.

It's not that I don't have material. It's not that it's not germinating in my brain. It's not that I don't have letters to write, or emails to answer. I just haven't had a chance to put it all down on screen or paper.


One snowy Saturday, I was blessed with some free time between appointments, so I snuggled in at a Cosi's, with free wi-fi, all the bread I could eat, Diet Coke I could drink, some letters, a fresh fountain pen and a journal - and started writing what would turn into an epic 10+ page Jane Austen-esque epistle.

Baring time for epistles, I dash off notes, or I often use Twitter and/or my phone to jot down the kernel of the observation or inspiration. Things that might end up in other forms, later in my life. [In fact, there's one coming up this week that started out as a jotted down note.]

Here are some of my musings lately:*

Crew @ my @7eleven knows me a little too well: "Wait, you're back. What'd you forget this morning. Oh, you must be baking again. No refill?"

Overheard at train station: "Having your therapy dog stolen is a double whammy." #futurefirstlineofmymemoir #therapydog #random #whyIwrite

It must be spring in the country. I can hear the red-tail hawk crying out for its mate again. #nestingseason #springsoundtrack #countrylife

Overheard near the local donut shop. Said by father with 2 small kids. To son: "No, you can't call shotgun. It's her birthday." #birthdaytraditions

Things I ponder during my commute: Why is there a dried up, decapitated corpse of a #pineapple in the middle of the train tracks? #random

Who needs that BökFace thing when Google images helps you look up an ex just fine. Especially when you can make judgements on aging better.

Me: I really resent having to go to work tomorrow. Her: That's a problem. Where can you get a sugar daddy? Us: *laughter* #friendsarethebest

My favorite thing today was hearing how my 5yo #nephew very precisely articulates all the syllables in: ACT-U-A-LY (Very toothily) #actually

I don't normally watch the 10/11pm local news, but when I do, I miss YO-LAAANDA Vega telling me which numbers I didn't pick to win. #nylotto

3pm: Must mean it's time for an impromptu solo rave dance party in a colleague's office. I mean...3pm and SOMEBODY ELSE was, I swear. #notme

Talking to the 10yo #nephew. Accidentally broke into rhyming pattern. Was told in no uncertain terms, "Stop rapping. You can't be a rapper."

And lo, it came to pass, in the 4th decade of the life of Nettie, did she find that the balance of her coffer ledger was accidentally nil.

Mighty was the flop sweat of she upon finding it thus. Much foul words were spoke, repenting undertook, & relief upon remembering overdraft.

Forsooth, and verily, I must confess...I was not paying attention to the balance o'the coffers whilst using the card o'debit.

Yon spendthrift was trying to curb her ways of the other cards o'credit, by freezing them, but still must learn economy.

Alas, I think I've been enjoying tweets by @LeVostreGC a mite bit too much. I'm starting to tweet/writ in homage. That and scriptural style.

Excuse me? Have you seen my motivation? I seem to have misplaced it.

When you are already feeling guilty about NOT responding to a letter from a former intern c. 2/14, & she calls you today from SPAIN to talk.

I know there is all kinds of symbolism to seeing 3 crows/ravens, but what about when you spot 3 large turkey vultures "lingering" nearby?

OH at office: "Please note. That was my nose. I didn't actually lick you. You probably shouldn't lick your colleagues." We're a close bunch.

Working in the country and commuting means if you miss your train by 35 seconds you have to wait 35 minutes for the next one. #sigh

Walked by the site of my former job today. Security guards came out of the building to give me a hug. So sweet. Guys were big teddy bears.

Why was there a bowl of milk at the foot of the stairs outside my apartment door this morning?

[This was a photo reminder to myself. In the almost decade that the Attic has been located in this building, this has NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE!]

Stay tuned...

Maybe I'll actually start really writing again.... Can't you already envision the tale of the stolen therapy dog?

In the meantime, enjoy these random observations.

The next time you feel bad about your inbox, remember that tonight I answered some e-mail that was 15 months old. #BadPerson

— Jen Yates (@cakewrecks) April 28, 2015

Too lazy at the moment 😂 pic.twitter.com/sOzDd0zmjM

— ☆ Nica ☆ (@Nhycca) April 27, 2015

*Or to be precise, in the future. I'm back-dating this from May 2015.
TIME TRAVEL. It's not just science-fiction. It's called "retro-blogging!"

Retroblogging 1980: The Nest

The Nest

One day some birds come to biuld a nest. Then one siad to build our nest here in this apple tree. Then other one said no, I want to build my nest in that tree. So both of them went to look for sticks for the nest. After the nest builded [or was built per Mom] she laid the egg. After a while it hatched and out popped a baby bird.

Thesis Statement

I am one of the fortunate college graduates that managed to matriculate without writing a thesis, for either my undergraduate or graduate degrees. Oh, I didn't get off scott-free. I had to write my share of tomes, but I avoided the dreaded THESIS.

My Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature saw many a paper written over four years. I had old fashioned comprehensive exams wherein I filled out many, many a little blue book. In two separate three-hour sessions, I scribbled away, struggling in vain to remember four years worth of readings ranging across centuries of literature. These writing sessions were very intense. Imagine a locked room in a library. 25 or more anxious English majors gathered around a large wooden table. Proctors handing out blue books and instructions. Add in the ever growing realization that you have only a few hours to regurgitate all the things in your brain, and that the result of how you do in the next hours would determine if you pass and graduate or, heaven forbid, you have to take the test again.

Panic has a smell. It's not pleasant.

On the other hand, my masters degree in Librarian Science was considered a "practical" degree and there was no thesis requirement. One of the requirements for graduation, however, was an internship for which you had to write a paper on your experiences. I had a lovely internship at a college music library, and over three months kept a journal that developed into a larger paper. With the addition of copies of the research, advertising materials, new flyers, and other brochures I developed for the library, I handed in quite a large binder. I don't even think my advisor read my paper. I think she weighed that binder, by eye and by mass, against some of the other papers that were handed in, and just gave me an A. I still have the binder. I'm not exaggerating when I say it's as large as some of the dissertations that I've come across in various library stacks.

Now, this is not to say I didn't have the opportunity to write a thesis. There were honors tracks in both degree programs which culminated in a thesis project. As you can see here, verbosity is not my problem. I like to read. I like to research. I usually like to write. At the time I just had other priorities. I finished up the bulk of my undergraduate degree in three and half years. I was living off-campus my last semester, taking two night/weekend courses, and working two or three jobs. I didn't have time to do extra credit honors work. Same situation with my graduate degree. I was working full (plus)-time, travelling onto Long Island or into New York City for my classes, and was commuting to the internship. More importantly, I could only afford to put so many graduate credit tuition fees onto a credit card or to incur more student loans.

I'm capable of a thesis. I just chose to take other academic and life paths.

There was also one other factor. The whole thesis process always seemed like such a daunting thing to me, but it was based on perceptions and childhood impressions. You know how, when you're looking back through the filter of childhood memories, things always look bigger, and tasks seem more daunting? And then when you come upon them later, things are surprisingly easier or places smaller? That's the THESIS for me.

When I was little, my father was working on his undergraduate and graduate degrees, working two or three jobs, and all the while raising a family in a day and age where there weren't so many technological advancements. I have vague memories of him struggling to write that thing out long-hand before dashing off to a night job, and then my poor mother "translating" and editing it. After staying home all day with three young kids under the age of 8, dealing with all our issues, she would then stay up late typing Dad's thesis on a manual typewriter ... over and over and over again. The sound of a typewriter got to be a comforting rhythm to my childhood dreams. Later on, I remember my parents having conversations about thesis advisers and approval committees -- how these professor-types would argue and haggle over language/sentences and how these changes made my mother have to retype the whole paper ... you guessed it -- over and over and over again. The folks kept drafts to track the changes, and would cynically comment about thesis advisers who would say one things in a draft, insist on edits, and by draft 20 or 30, would have managed to flip all the way back to the original version. I was about 6-8 about this time, and somehow all of this was floating around my head when it came time to have to decide on educational paths.

I admire anyone who has willingly taken on a thesis project, especially one that involves surveys, questionnaires, interviews, and other research. It's hard work getting people to respond, and then to provide data that you can actually use. I remember all too well from grad school.

So, when I read about Whitney's thesis project on blogging, I was more than willing to help.

Extra bonus ... Whitney is attending Dad's alma mater.

Won't you click through and then take some time to help a fellow blogger out? She asks some very important questions about why you do, or do not, blog, who you blog for, and what other blogs you read. If you haven't already thought about these questions for yourself, it does help you to focus on your subject matter and intended audience.

Write on, Ms. Whitney, Write on!

GOOOOOOOO Aggies!

Storytime with Amber and Auntie Librarian

One of the best days I had on vacation was when I got to go to storytime at the local library with Amber and her Mama. As a librarian, this little excursion made me very happy, though I did stick out like a sore thumb, being camera happy and sans-child. Oh well. What's the Auntie Librarian to do?

Here's the rock star eating en route to the fun.

Amber liked playing with the animals. Here's her panda friend.

She did get a little shy, and didn't go and sit on the mat with the other kids. I didn't care. The easier to film her that way.

After storytime, Amber and Mama went and selected some new books. Here they are in line to check-out at the Big Desk. She's such a big girl!

St. George has this great communal area near the library, filled with sculptures, gazebos, and fun fountains. Who doesn't like to splash in the water? Especially if they are Aquarii?

For ONCE, Amber held still enough for me to take a non-action photo. Here she is curled up with a good book. I'm so proud!

The End!