Tuesday Tidbits

Well, the downtime went very well. I hope you all had a great weekend and Memorial Day.

The photo is posted for Amy since she hasn't seen me since I lost all that weight. So how do you like Skinny Me?

I'm about to embark on a Shannon Hale reading fest (for all of you fans of young adult literature). I've got Goose Girl, Enna Burning, River Secrets, and Princess Academy all lined up and ready to read. I don't often embark into the YA field of reading, but I decided to "preview" these books before passing them along to my 12 year old granddaughter. Thanks to Janssen of Everyday Reading for introducing me to this author. She has posted some commentary on these titles over at her blog. You will need to peruse her older posts to find them. Thanks Janssen!

I will be out of town for a couple of days to San Francisco. I know ... poor me! Lest you get too jealous, it is a business trip and I probably won't have any time to blog. So I'll see you all at the end of the week!

Downtime

downtime
n : a period of time when something (as a machine or factory) is not operating (especially as a result of malfunctions)

down-time
[jargon] A period of time during which a (computer) system is not operational, due to a malfunction or maintenance

Source: http://dict.die.net/downtime/

Tip of the Iceberg will be experiencing downtime (or down-time; take your pick) this weekend. It has been determined that the Terri B. module is not operating properly as a result of malfunctions and will be undergoing maintenance. For an explanation, please see How to Turn Lemons into Lemonade.

We hope to have Terri B. back and functioning at capacity by Monday.

How to Turn Lemons into Lemonade

I woke up this morning, which is actually an odd thing to say since I really didn't sleep last night. This is the second night in a row that I've gone to sleep only to wake up 2 hours later, toss and turn for about 3 hours, then proceed to snooze and wake every 1/2 hour for the rest of the night. I can function after one night of this sleeplessness, but not after two.

So ... I woke up this morning knowing that I would be useless at work. Yes folks, this is lemons. The kind of thing that turns you sour and makes it difficult for anyone to be near you. How do you sweeten this kind of day up and turn it into lemonade? I obviously needed some time off work to deal with this today, so I decided to use a vacation day to recover and try to determine what is causing such restless nights.

I logged into my work email and left a message that I would be out for the day. I then went for a very long and exhausting walk up and down the hills in my neighborhood, showered, ate breakfast ... and then fell into a deep sleep for the next 4 hours.

When I woke up from my blissfully dreamless nap (quite a blessing since I dream much and vividly) I felt great! This gave me some energy to assess my most recent bout of middle-agedness. Here is what I came up with:

1. I drink too much caffeine. Way. Too. Much. Apparently my body doesn't know what to do with it all.


2. I don't exercise often enough. I already know that in order to function well I MUST exercise. So, since I already know this about myself why don't I just do it? Sheer and utter cussedness. (I've been dying to use that word.)


3. Too much computer work, TV, and reading. I think my brain is on intake overload.

Now the hard part. What to do about the above assessment? After all, identifying the problems is only half of the solution (yes, I know ... this sentence needs some help but I've bigger problems than grammar today). What is really needed is action. So here are some action points:

1. Quit the caffeine. I really don't mind decaf, so after the initial shock to the system I should be fine. Please ignore the growling noises for the next few days.


2. Start my daily walking routine again. I'm not sure if I'll walk in the morning or evening yet. They both have their positive points. For now I just need to do it.


3. Some of the screen viewing time just has to go. For instance, I wrote this post out on paper first rather than create it in front of the computer screen. Staring at a piece of paper while I think is more relaxing on my eyes and brain than staring at a computer screen. I will also be spending some of my current TV time exercising. And the reading? I'll just have to ration and pace myself a little more sanely. I am what you would call a rabid reader. A little more restraint in this area wouldn't be a bad thing.

There. I'm feeling better already. Care for a glass of lemonade?

Flashback Friday: Disco Baby

Imagine. It's 1978. It's Saturday night and you're not yet old enough to think that tucking in with a glass of wine and a good book is the equivalent of a party. Saturday nights are for going where the action is and in 1978 the action is at the disco. Yes, mirror balls and "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor; clubs that never ask to see ID if you're a young cute female; tequila sunrises until sunrise. Yes ... I remember 1978 well.

I still remember the purple dress with black polka dots in these photos. The skirt of the dress was just right for all the swirling around on the dance floor. And the purple glitter eye shadow that you can't see in the picture? Perfect for catching all of the flashing lights from the strobes and the mirror ball. I loved the black patent platforms. They were surprisingly easy to move around in ... though it wouldn't have mattered since I was 17 and it was all about fashion, not comfort.

These pictures were taken by my Dad before I went out one Saturday night. I'm not sure where he thought I was going or what I would be doing, but he never let on that he was worried. He was either blissfully oblivious to the ways of 70s youth or he was scared to death and determined not to let it show; maybe a little of both. I have to remind myself that he spied on people for a living, so he probably wasn't as clueless as I imagined. Oh the arrogance of youth!

Well, the disco days are in the past but I do occasionally go along with Mr. Distortion when he plays the clubs, and as I look around I can't help thinking, "Do their parents know where they are"?

I must be getting old.

In Praise of Reading

I love reading mysteries. But I don't limit myself to this genre only. I read current fiction, classic literature, science fiction, history, theology, memoirs -- you name it, I read it. I've even been known to delve into a romance or two, but generally find myself either annoyed or bored if I spend too much time in this reading area. I will make an exception for Mary Stewart, L.M. Montgomery and D.E. Stevenson though.

One of the things I look for in my reading is atmosphere. Lots and lots of atmosphere. What do I mean when I say atmosphere? The entry in A Handbook to Literature by Holman and Harmon (6th ed.) describes it well:

The prevailing tone or mood of a literary work, particularly -- but not exclusively -- when that mood is established in part by setting or landscape. It is, however, not simply setting but rather an emotional aura that helps to establish the reader's expectations and attitudes. Examples are the somber mood established by the description of the prison door in the opening chapter of Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, the brooding sense of fatality engendered by the description of Egdon Heath at the beginning of Hardy's The Return of the Native, the sense of "something rotten in the state of Denmark" established by the scene on the battlements at the opening of Hamlet, or the opening stanza of Poe's "The Raven."

The key for me seems to be something that evokes a mood. The moodier the better. I want my reading to move me in some way. Atmosphere is why I read China Mieville, Avram Davidson and Jack Vance. I may not always remember the plot lines of what I read, but I do recall the atmosphere generated by certain authors.

Something else I look for in my reading is a sense of justice. What I like about formulaic mysteries (often synonomous with police procedurals) is the knowledge that all will be righted in the end; justice will be served. Sure, there are bad guys and gals galore, but with a formula mystery you KNOW that they will not win. They will be punished for their badness and the world will once again be set aright. Of course this is a bit of escapism for me; it does not match reality. Just watch the news. This is precisely why I turn off the news sometimes (often these days) and stick my nose into a good mystery. I find this sense of justice in some other genres, but never so reliably as I do in mysteries ... and some days I just need the justice.

A third thing I look for is the "what if" factor. This can often be found in science fiction, or speculative fiction as some people refer to this genre. I love "what if." I love the sense of suspense and the hopefulness that goes with "what if" reading. What if we could really do this or that; what if we could really go there; what if .... The "what ifs" are endless and allow the imagination to run wild. The "what if" literature is probably some of the most closely related to childhood. Perhaps that is why I like it so much; I can let my inner child run free for a few hours.

Well folks, I could go on indefinitely about the topic of reading and what I like to find in those wonderful tomes of bound words -- but I'll leave some for another day and leave you room to think about your own preferences.

What do you look for in your reading?

Blog? What Blog?

It isn't meant to be a secret. After all, I've created this space that anyone in the world can visit. I don't really use my blog to "tell all" or rant about particular people. Yet I'd rather not share my blog with everyone. OK, I'd rather not share my blog with certain people. It is personal. Even if I do tend to be circumspect in what I say and how I say it, I don't want to overly censor myself; that would take much of the joy out my writing space.

I've shared some of my thoughts and feelings with certain people in the past and have found that they can not be trusted. How do I know this? Well, people tend to talk and stories tend to make their way back full circle and I find myself explaining (sometimes to mere acquaintances) that "no, that is not what I said/meant/think; who or what gave you that idea"? I can track most of these "stories" back to their source. You can imagine my dismay to find that someone has managed to twist what I said, added a little of their own imaginative thinking, and spread this around as gospel truth. Somehow they think they have the inside track on my psyche since I shared something with them. So I no longer share my thoughts and feelings with these people. I'm guessing that they might make up even more imaginative "stories" about me since they lack any real insights, but I can live with that more easily than I can live with what I consider a breach of trust.

So, you've probably guessed by now that this little rant has not come out of thin air. Something happened.

It happened recently. One of my blog posts was mentioned. This mention prompted someone else (who hitherto had been in the dark about my blogging) to pounce on the topic of blogging and ask for the URL to my blog. I mumbled something vague and changed the topic immediately. I'm hoping that my blog will be forgotten. Yes, I'm counting on the "brain fade" factor. Realistically I don't expect this reprieve to last forever and will need to make a decision on how I will handle this situation. Here are a few options I will consider:

1. Give the person the URL and let them think and say what they will.
2. Look the person in the eye and say, "Blog? What blog"?
3. Point the person to my boring professional blog.
4. Tell the person that I write my blog posts for a certain community of readers, which is essentially saying ...
5. "No, I don't want to share my blog with you."
   

A person very sympathetic to my dilemma suggested I create a fake blog. I love this idea! A blog stand-in!

So, what would you do?

Taunting the Muse

My muse is still on vacation so I thought I'd cause some trouble while she is away. I'm writing blog posts minus her input. Maybe I can embarrass her sufficiently to cut her vacation short and get back here where she belongs.

If you read my post "Waiting for the Muse", you will see the current state of my brain. It is absolute insanity in there right now. And to make matters worse the hormones are about to kick in and make their contribution to the general mayhem. I apologize in advance to anyone that will be having dealings with me for the next week.

So, what does one read when one is in the midst of gray-matter-madness? Weeeellll ... how about this:


This is "That Girl! meets Miss Marple."
This is a "Murder A-Go-Go Mystery."
This is a book for a brain being held together by Dippity-do.
This is It's a Mod, Mod, Mod, Mod Murder by Rosemary Martin.

Our main character is Bebe Bennett (aka Elizabeth Bennett for you Jane Austen aficionados) and she works for Rip City Records in New York City circa 1964. When she's not working as a secretary or going out to "fab" night clubs in her go-go boots, she's solving murders with her friend Darlene. First murder up is Philip Royal of the Beefeaters (think Beatles-esque) and he has been electrocuted with his own guitar. Yes folks, those electric guitars are DANGEROUS! But I have faith that Bebe will solve this who-done-it without even mussing her wonderful Marlo Thomas hair flip.

Yup. This is all my brain can deal with right now. No Trollope or Dostoyevsky for me. And don't even suggest poetry. I can barely deal with prose at the moment let alone any metered or (heaven forbid) free-verse-see-if-you-can-figure-it-out wordage.

HEY, MUSE! Are you embarrassed yet?

Waiting for the Muse

I have nothing to say. Some days I'm not sure I'm actually even thinking, which of course is necessary to having something to say; at least it should. Yes, there is brain activity but it appears to be going something like this:

what time is it? did i pay the phone bill? ow, wish i'd quit hitting my knee on the corner of my desk. desk sure is messy. where did i put that report i was working on? when is that due? better look at my calendar. need to send an email to newspaper about login problem. did i remember to turn the humidifier off when i left this morning? oh yeah, was going to look at my calendar. oops, forgot to tally that last ref question that came to the desk. out of tally sheets. need to request more tally sheets. is it lunch yet? oh yeah, the calendar. phone ringing. hate phone. i can smell someone else's lunch. smells good. need to eat mine. better check calendar before i forget ...

OK, so this is not really thinking. This is a tornado. This is brain synapses firing all over the place. And I never did get around to checking the calendar.

If only this brain storm would quit. If only it would get quiet in there. If only my fairy godmother of writing would pay me a visit and wave her magic wand over my messy gray matter. But my muse appears to be on an extended vacation ...

... so I will hurl my jumbled thoughts toward my keyboard; and I will click the Publish button; and I will carry on.