Programming Note: Miss me?

Image courtesy of toothpastefordinner.com

I know. I know.

Soon.

Things will be random. I may WILL backdate things. I may double up. Stay tuned. Check the archives.

Where are we with cloning technology? Or timeturners ala Hermonie Granger? I need a clone to get things done and posts writ.

Soon.

Quotes of the Day: Blogging

remember that you don't owe anyone in blogging. You are doing it for you. -@emily_ladau #HealingStories #BlogHer15

— Phyllis (@phyllismyung) July 17, 2015

Advice: Don't worry about fitting into a niche. Write for yourself first. Be authentic to your experience. #healingstories #BlogHer15

— Danielle Thompson (@uppervalleymom) July 17, 2015

from Twitter

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!"

New Year's Resolutions: Write More ... Well, Edit More

One of my very unofficial resolutions, both personal and professional, was to write more this year.

Maybe I should have been more specific. BLOGGING, per se, didn't end up being part of the resolution.

However, I do have some photographic evidence that I have been in editorial/publishing mode.

Behold, evidence of the 60 page departmental "annual report" that I helped compile, lay-out, edit, print, collate, and assemble for internal use. It was a team effort, definitely, but ... I helped. Yes, we went old-school spiral binding on the 50 copies I did last week, but ... old-school was leaps and bounds ahead of what last year's looked like.

AND ... I was 3 days ahead of production deadlines.

 And I have a new appreciation for the publishing process and our in-house program compiler.

Quote of the Day: Unexpected Memories Lingered Beneath Words

As I work my way back to semi-regular blogging, I'm going to share some of the quotes from books I've been reading ... some of the random things that have perked my interest, and persuaded me to keep using this forum to share things, family history, etc.

"Over the years, Aunt Ailis had tried to lure Finnegan into the world of computers, the lines of software code that she studied as if they would give her a key to the inner workings of the human brain, if not heart. Finnegan understood the satisfaction she derived from the act of coding, her ability to aim for and achieve something she already she knew she wanted -- but for Finnegan, his interest in people's stories was always the unexpected memories that lingered beneath the words, waiting to come out. As far as Finnegan could understand, the purpose of coding was to create a form of stable perfection, a series of commands that could reproduce every time exactly what was intended. The opposite of humans, who were interesting to Finnegan precisely because of the way their narrative changed, hid other meanings, shifted with time and perspective.

 So he reached out and took the stories in, knowing that they had nowhere else to go, unable to refuse safe haven to memories that otherwise would disappear unnoticed. And yet, at times, he was overwhelmed by the weight of other people's lives, the stack of notebooks that surrounded his bed.

"You could publish them," Aunt Ailis suggested. But Finnegan knew, somehow, that wasn't the answer. What he had experienced in the transfer of these stories was as intimate as touch, a table for two in a crowded restaurant. Still, he didn't know what to do with them, didn't know who he was without them.

...

And so he sat in his room, surrounded. ... He sat on his bed and picked up one notebook after another, reading."

~ From Erica Bauermeister's The Lost Art of Mixing, pages 231-232

Emphasis throughout my own.

Turn of the Page/ Turn of the Phrase

It's ... June?

June?!

With the turn of the calendar page, I'm going to try and be better about adding a note or two to this blog page. 

Maybe if I ease back in, the words and creativity will start to flow down the dry paths?

Sometimes it will be a photo, or sometimes it will be a turn of the phrase.

Speaking of a turn of phrase:

These, from a recent New York Times Travel article, particularly struck me, especially after a recent quick trip back up to Connecticut's familiar back roads:

At that moment, I understood that you could not inhabit anyplace permanently, except in memory, and that this was as it should be. ...

I felt the shimmer of time’s continuum flickering against the backdrop of place. ...

... I realized there did not have to be just one home: In the mind, geography converges; beloved landscapes, villages, cities, countries, all become one, in the borderless scrapbook of memory.

 

from A Return to Rural France, and to Childhood Memories, by Liesl Schillinger on May 28, 2014, New York Times

Writer's envy? Travel envy? A bit of both. You betcha. But ... so grateful for what I do have.

Scenes from CT quick trip:

 

Xo, Auntie Nettie

Wreck it Wednesday: Wreck this Journal Updates

From the Preface: 
Warning: During the process of this book you will get dirty. You may find yourself covered in paint, or any other number of foreign substances. You will get wet. You may be asked to do things you question. You may grieve for the perfect state that you found the book in. You may begin to see creative destruction everywhere. You may begin to live more recklessly. 





 
It's been a while since I've posted the updates about my Wreck this Journal, but I have been slowly working on it. This past week, in particular, saw a burst of activity - mostly while I was waiting for other things to happen. It was good to use it to process other things that were going on.

Updates on existing pages:

The above is a riff on the apocryphal library school story about raw bacon being used as a book mark. It's a print add for Oscar Mayer (? I think) bacon, that uses Boolean operators. I'm a geek.

New pages:

Everything smells like Tea Rose perfume now ... It's kind of nice, especially when you don't have time to go out and smell real roses. Also, I bet people of a certain age can't get a Tears for Fears song out of their head. (This one.)

This one word is PATIENCE - what I was trying to exercise one night at Symphony Space while waiting my place in line for Neil Gaiman to sign The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

I filled this page up too quickly, to the amusement of an usher. So I moved on to this one. I had already slapped the two Janet Evanovich stickers in there, and it let to some interesting internal debates. It started in the lower left corner of the Morelli page and wrapped around, saying things like:

~8:30 pm  6/19/13 waiting for GAIMAN @Symphony Space OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE

It is completely silly that I am actually dedicating these two pages to an internal monologue - especially one that now has to focus on two fictional characters in a series of novels that has unfortunately gotten to be formulaic but I stuck these stickers here so I might as well commit. Plus I have time to kill waiting for a much more intriguing novelist to sign his most latest book. The usher may have a point ... Why do I/we need autographs from writers? Shouldn't the book be enough? Obviously NOT, as a full sold-out house is waiting for this guy to sign their book, and their stuff, so they have another piece of him. But this was supposed to be a monologue about MORELLI vs. Ranger. Morelli - reformed bad boy, house, home, dog, job, family, still enough bad to attract. Ranger - international man of mystery, sexy as hell - but... Not one to settle down with, no shared childhood/cultural BURG history. After all the back and forth, it's really annoying. Pick one or choose yourself. It's 2013! You don't need a man. Really. I mean, it's nice and all, but ... seriously. Time to grow up Stephanie, the character. Janet the novelist should have moved on 10 books ago. The audience has, and I have wasted two pages writing about this and the signing line hasn't moved!

P.S. After writing this, getting dinner @ 9:30 and waiting 2+ hours, watching train schedule -- decided author's work more imp. than autograph. Gave him 1 less interaction, me home around midnight, less commute stress, and some sleep. May be short-sided, but there it is. 
11:50 PM 6/19/13

Post-note: According to the author and organizers, Neil Gaiman wasn't done signing until after 1 a.m. If I had left at the end of the reading, like my colleague, I would have gotten a pre-signed book. I waited until 10:30 and left with an unsigned copy. Who was the smarter one?

Quote of the Day

"If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin, and say, 'When you're ready.'"

~David Mitchell in Black Swan Green

Writers Block

I have long been envious of poets and authors who can use language to draw pictures in the mind, or can craft a well-turned phrase to summon sensations in a few simple words. I read a great deal, but occasionally I come across a passage or two that makes me stop. I have to go back, re-read the lines, and then sit and ponder them for a bit before moving on to the rest of the story. Beyond the joy of savoring of the language, or processing the emotion conjured up by the phraseology, I'm often filled with envy ... because I'm not a real "writer."

Take these passages from Lynne Hinton's Friendship Cake, for example. This a novel I read a few years ago, but have come across again in my library browsing.

… I sensed the stones of sibling rivalry as they pelted me with their grief-stricken stares. (Page 7).

Or this very important life lesson:

A heart can hold sadness a lot longer than it can anger.

…the sadness always outlasts the anger. You have to make an intentional decision either to give the anger up or to let it eat out the center of your spirit. Sadness can stay with a body for a lifetime. But with anger, you’ve got to choose. (Page 8).

I know we all have our own gifts and talents and share them in different ways, but it's hard not to wish for a magic pen or a visit from a muse when you come across passages like these.

Impulse Writing

You know how therapists and anger management counselors often advise their patients to write letters to purge negative emotions? How there’s something about the act of putting pen to paper, or more modernly, banging away at a keyboard, that lets out the frustrations and negates the stupidity that you may have to encounter?

I wish I could take credit for this one, but it comes courtesy of a usually very mild-mannered colleague. This is the version of the follow-up letter that she did not send to a donor. I can’t imagine why; all of us in the office felt better after reading it and then cackling with glee.

Dear Dr. X:

Thanks for your recent letter. I am sorry you took up your cranky pen and stopped me from doing some worthy and real work today.

I should let you know that I personally monitor all of the airline and Amtrak schedules as well as the performance calendars of every single performing arts organization in the United States, and then highlight all of the concerts that feature students on scholarship. I then invite all donors to hear their scholarship recipients perform in their local venues. Alas, this is not true. I am not clairvoyant, nor omniscient and omnipotent. Additionally, I do not know who will get a particular scholarship before he or she performs in your local performing arts theater.

In the future, when our students perform at the Kennedy Center or Carnegie Hall, I will ask them to give you, and just you, a “shout out” from the stage, just in case you are in the audience or on the off chance that they are lucky enough to receive your scholarship sometime in the future.

I do hope you will make up for your cranky letter with a huge check. Perhaps you meant to enclose it?

Sincerely,
Jane Doe

Next time we get "cranky" letters, I'm tempted to send the first version of our reactions and not the second "polite" one. Who's with me?