should I choose a noble occupation

The long weekend is over – the last holiday weekend until, what, Memorial Day? That’s depressing. And so I choose not to think about it! Instead, I’ll focus on the good: I wrote today.

I haven’t written much in the last several days. First my work computer went kerflooey, and since I’m trapped here for 8 hrs a day, if I have no computer, I have no writing. And I’ll be honest, it’s not that easy to summon up the energy to write at night, at home. I have this perfect, gorgeous study that we set up just for me to have that much-vaunted Room of One’s Own, with the shelves full of books and the iMac and the soothing duck egg blue paint. And I use it, I do – just not as often as I might like. Because by the time I come home, feed the dogs, walk the dogs, do yoga, spend a little time with M and make and/or eat dinner – I’m usually pretty ready to just curl up. I don’t do yoga every day (more’s the pity) but you get the point.

But today, back at work, I wrote. And so the story creeps forward, so slowly, like a particularly slow snail, but it moves. And the word count goes up, to wit:

Today: 1528

Total thus far:

45292 / 80000

 

OK. Back into the groove a bit. Of course, a lot of it felt like rambling, and I don’t know if I actually moved the story forward or not … but words went from my head to the page, and thoughts happened, so that’s good. I’m really working on the ‘just write’ idea, instead of constantly self-editing and slowing myself down to the point where I eventually just … stop.

Today’s word count: 2267

Total word count thus far:

42250 / 80000

 

the wind blows right through you

Trying not to worry that my burst of energy and inspiration was one of those rapid fire things that burns out too quickly. I wrote like a demon was after me last week, and then …. stopped. Friday I think I wrote about 227 words, and over the weekend, a big nothing. If you don’t count email. Which, even though it was about the book, I don’t.

So! Once more into the breach, we few, we bloody few, etc. This afternoon I will return to the book with renewed vigor. I did work out some issues in that email, so maybe it was all to the good, even if I wasn’t very productive at all.

Total word count, as of this morning:

39983 / 80000

 

patterns laid out on the bed in dozens of colors of thread

So I’m writing.  Again.  I took a hiatus for a while there, because my head was very muddled and I had no idea which of the many projects I had floating around in there was the one I wanted to be working on.  So I gave myself some time and let things settle down in my freakshow of a brain and waited to see what would emerge.

Something did, and now I’m working on the as-yet-untitled YA fantasy novel that I started – well, a long, long time ago, really.   It feels good.  At the risk of sounding like one of those annoying people who claims that their characters just speak to them and they merely transcribe the story – these characters are the ones who keep coming back to me.   They’re the ones who feel most alive and whose story does, well, seem to want to be told.

I made myself a promise to write at least 1500 words a day.  So far, so good. Today’s word count:

33593 / 80000

Today’s soundtrack:

Who Killed Amanda Palmer? – Amanda Palmer (who else?)

One Cello x 16: Natoma – Zoe Keating

 

TiVo – not so much, as it turns out

So everyone loves TiVo.  Love songs and poetry have been written about the glories of TiVo.  We’ve had a Comcast DVR for a few years now, and I have spent many an hour lamenting – nay, weeping and wailing and ranting – about how very much it sucks.  TiVo, I cried!  TiVo would solve all of our problems!  I would no longer get cranky if we had TiVo!  I would always feel like cooking dinner if we only had TiVo!  The house would clean itself if we had TiVo! So there was a deal for $100 off TiVo HD, I decided to go for it.  M wasn’t all that concerned either way; she was just happy that I would be happy.  And that I would stop whining about TiVo.

I made the phone calls to Comcast which, let’s face it, take up the better part of your day and make you crazy with helpless rage.  But I pressed on! I sifted through menus, I talked to numerous folk.  I was assured that all that was necessary was for a technician to come to the house and slot the cable card into place in my TiVo.  Nice and done!  And the cable card is free!  Hooray! TiVo, at last!

Ah. But.  You can’t access On Demand through TiVo.  And I love me some On Demand. I love it because that way I don’t have to DVR everything, and I love it because, for some mysterious reason, shows like Mad Men – which are not broadcast in  HD – are available On Demand in HD.  And that is a very fine show to watch in HD.  More calls to Comcast ensued and it was confirmed that, indeed, we would need to keep our cable box to access On Demand.  We’re getting the HD-DVR free right now through a promotion, so we figured, what the hell?  We’ll keep it until we have to pay for it and reevaluate then.

The tech showed up. He fiddled and poked and prodded.  He took an unusually long time to do what seemed like a very simple task (so simple that I spent some time arguing with Comcast about why I couldn’t just pick up a cable card and install it myself, thus saving us the $17.50 fee for service).  Finally, after a seriously long time, we were ready to go.  There was the TiVo, the Comcast DVR – and a mysterious small box.  A tuning adapter, we were told.  It had to do with the cable card.  Um, OK.  There had been no mention of this, but – whatever.  

We’ve had TiVo for a week, and you know what? I don’t like it.  I don’t like how slow it is; if I channel surf too quickly, the screen goes grey.  Hell, there’s a fairly lengthy (in tech world) pause every time I change the channel.  And every time I change the channel, the audio and video get out of sync.  I’ve tried TiVo’s tricks to correct this and all they do is make it worse.  There is no joy here.  It functions in exactly the way our Comcast DVR functions.  As for the ‘TiVo studies what you like and suggests things you might want to watch’ function – um, no.  For one thing, TiVo seems to randomly record all manner of garbage.  For instance, one day it recorded hours of programming on TLC.  Completely arbitrary programming.  Based on what? I have no idea.  Perhaps the TiVo was feeling mischievous and thought we might enjoy several hours of Jon & Kate Plus 8.  But clearly TiVo does not know what I like. For instance, I don’t like Jon & Kate Plus 8.  I kind of actually hate it. Also – I watch enough TV as it is; I don’t need TiVo searching out still more. 

And yes, there are all manner of fancy things we could be doing with the TiVo, should we be interested in spending Still! More! Money!  For instance, if we shell out $70 for the wireless adapter, we can download movies from Netflix! Which – great! Except we then have to pay Netflix $8.99/month – and we already get free movies because M is a librarian and can bring them home from work.  We can also use Amazon Unbox – but we have to pay for it.  We could download movies and TV shows to the laptop – but why, exactly, would we want to do that? We don’t travel often, and neither of us has the kind of commute where we could sit and watch a show en route to work.  

The only truly superior function as far as I’m concerned is that it’s easier to search for shows and movies to record with TiVo.  I grant you this, absolutely.  Comcast’s search function is a search in name only.  It SUCKS.  But here’s the thing – money. Money is the thing.  It might not sound like much, but it adds up over time.  To wit:

- the Comcast box will not be free forever, OK.  But once the promo ends we’ll be paying $12.95/month – the same as TiVo

- if we keep the TiVo and get rid of the Comcast DVR, we’ll still have to pay $8.95/month for an HD box in order to use On Demand

- Comcast is also charging us $8.95/month for the “tuning adapter” – which may or may not also be a converter box.  No one seems to know exactly what it is. 

- The total?  $12.95/month for TiVo; $8.95/month for the tuning adapter; $8.95/month for an HD box, for a grand total of $30.85/month for the glories of TiVo – OR

- $12.95/month for the Comcast HD-DVR, which is pretty much exactly the same, but with a suckier search function

That $17.90/month might not sound like much, but over the course of a year it adds up.  If it was worth it – if we already had and used Netflix, if we wanted/needed to download stuff to one of the laptops, if they weren’t pretty much exactly the same thing – it might be worth it.

So I cancelled TiVo. And I’m returning it, along with the cable card and the mysterious tuning adapter, or whatever the hell it is.  We may be the only people in the world who chose the crappy Comcast DVR over TiVo, but there you have it.  Happy little TiVo icon, with your booping noise and your winsome smile – you did not do it for me.  Not only did you not solve my problems, you created new ones!  Problems where before there were none!  And so farewell, TiVo.  Our time together was short and annoying. I’ll miss your search function. But that’s about it.

 

in which I freak out my own dogs

Right. So I think I’ve now alienated both dogs.  Hooray for me!

Last night I took Cupcake for her regularly scheduled short jaunt when I got home. Fun! Excitement! Kisses! Etc.! Came back and took both Cupcake and Zoe into the yard.  Cuppie was very cute; she didn’t hassle Zoe too badly and let me pick her up and take her inside so we could go in and get dinner.

Dinner for all!  Of the animals, that is.  And yes, since you’re asking, we have several: the two dogs -

Cupcake Zoe

and 3 cats:

MeepRosie and Tooticky

So I fed all of the animals, then geared up and took Cuppie for a run.  Fun! Excitement! Kisses! Etc.! Came back and took Zoe into the yard again.

I ran about a bit, tossed the tennis ball. A little zipping around from the Cupcake, but not much else. OK, sez I – I’m hungry. Time for dinner for me!

Only – no one would come in. As always when I am alone in the yard with them, Zoe looks perpetually terrified and runs every time I take a step in her direction.  This is expected, so I quickly gave up on trying to scoop her up and get them inside that way.

But Cupcake – my girl! My sweetheart! My little beast!  Oh, I cannot catch Cupcake. She wants to play! OK – we play. Or rather, I try. I run around, toss the tennis ball. She does a little crazy puppy running! Back and forth and around in circles! But I can’t get anywhere near her.  I try the blithe approach – I’m going inside now! Come on in with me! Nothing. I go in and close the door. 10 seconds. I open it. Cupcake is at the bottom of the steps. She sees me and trots back into the yard. I go out into the yard and try again. Repeat of all above with an assortment of toys. Still no joy. I do this several more times, leaving them out there for longer and longer periods. Rosie comes to join me at the door; I pick her up and walk out onto the steps, hoping to entice Cupcake (Rosie as bait! Sorry Rosie, but I was desperate). Nothing. I take Rosie back inside and go back out into the yard.

I am now extremely hungry and cranky. I try again – let’s go inside! Come on! Let’s go get your buddy!    The buddy:

Cupcake just looks at me like – yeah, right.

I do a small hopping dance of frustration. (agh agh agh agh AGH!) Cupcake approaches; I crouch and hold out my hand. She gives me a few tentative kisses then backs away.  I stand up and try one more time to coax her inside. She runs away. I run around waving my arms and whooing like a nut, both to encourage Cupcake and to release some frustration. Both dogs look at me like I’ve gone insane. I try the mitten game – Cupcake is overjoyed! But not stupid. She won’t hold onto the mitten for more than a second at a time because she knows that I’ll use it to tow her in and scoop her up.  This goes on and on and on and bloody ON until I am ready to weep. I’ve tried everything – Running! Tennis ball! Crinkly puppy! Mitten!

I try the mitten again – Cupcake steals it and runs off with it. I cannot get them to come inside. I sink to the ground in defeat. Cupcake brings the mitten back and I grab it. I try again and again to lure them inside. It’s not happening. I fling the mitten about and wail. Both dogs stare at me with genuine concern. I crouch down on the ground. Cupcake approaches tentatively but will not let me touch her. Zoe looks perhaps slightly more freaked out than usual.  Defeated, and near to believing I will have to leave them outside until M comes home – at 10 o’clock – I say, well, that’s it. I’m going inside. I’ve had it. I’m done. I say this in a high-pitched, most likely hysterical tone of voice meant to be alluring to doggies but probably closer to dangerous insanity. Both dogs, looking distinctly worried and sheepish, follow me inside the house.

Zoe immediately heads upstairs.  Cupcake chases her, barking madly, then returns with the buddy. I throw the buddy. She doesn’t look convinced. I get myself some dinner. She hangs out while I eat, brings me the buddy a few times, but has a look about her that says – I should do nice, normal things that will keep her calm.  I toss the buddy a few times; she half-heartedly gets it. I take my dishes into the kitchen to wash up. She follows me with the buddy. I reach down to pick her up and she growls and snaps at me repeatedly until I put her down. She looks at me askance and walks away.

Zoe spent the rest of the night upstairs. Cupcake pointedly ignored me for most of the evening until she decided she wanted a belly rub.  Finally she deigned to sit at the other end of the couch, still in something of a huff. When M came home, Cupcake greeted her with obvious relief. This other one? She has problems. I love her, but seriously – behavioral issues.  You might want to look to that.

Cupcake sleeps by my side every night – except last night, when she slept as far away from me as she could get – on the other side of M – an attempt, I’m sure to both teach me a lesson and to make sure I didn’t run amok in my sleep.

Sometimes having dogs is one of the great joys of life.  And sometimes …

 

lazy

That’s me. I am laziness personified today. As my friend B would say, I am a slug of mystery.  Possibly without the mystery.

M and B and I used to have this whole thing where we were going to do the SLUG OF MYSTERY TOUR. We were going to rent a giant RV(preferably an Airstream)*, paint it up like Priscilla Queen of the Desert and take it on the road. We’d drive cross-country and video blog the whole thing – 3 women, 3 cats, and 2 dogs.  We even toyed with the idea of allowing corporate sponsorship (responsibly, of course – no Evil Types allowed). Celebrity drivers was another of our grand notions – we would each get to pick a few famous people we liked and whoever among them was willing would be our driver for a day.  This proved complex, however. M and I agreed on Kate Winslet, but we weren’t so sure about B’s choice of Peter Coyote. Likewise, B and M were a little uneasy about Keanu Reeves, although M and I were cool with B’s need for Harrison Ford.  There would have to be a lot of compromise – and all of the drivers would have to be apprised of things like Words You Cannot Say Around B.

There’s a list as long as my leg, and if we’re going alphabetically I suppose it would begin with capicola. There are several lunch meat related words, come to think of it. Then there are the colors words – bid farewell to taupe and mauve. These are words that make B twitch. There are many of them. I have some myself, although some of mine are more about usage – like impact and dialogue when used as verbs, and oh, all corporate jargon.  

I still love the idea of the Slug tour, although I have a feeling corporate sponsorship would be more easily obtained if we were 20, nubile, and constantly semi-nude. Which we’re not, as it happens.

*High on the list of Things I Love: vintage airstreams and cupcakes.  Thus, a small slice of Nirvana in Austin, TX:

 

wherein I am made grumpy by miracles

OK, so – some people I know are attending a course on miracles.  This prompts – well, it prompts scorn and derision in my black, black heart, but aside from that, it prompts questions.   Questions like, what the hell? And what is wrong with you people?

Look, I get it – the seeking thing. The spiritual need. I don’t seem to have it, but I get it. I’m not necessarily dismissive of seeking, as such. But – come on! A course on miracles? And one that involves workbooks and  “sharings” (plural!), at that.  It should not be surprising that the Miracle People apparently see the “mind” as so ephemeral as to be worthy of quotations  - as in, “loosen the “mind’s” fixed worldview and open to a worldview of acceptance. “I do not know what anything is for”.

Hmm. Well, sure – OK.  We all get confused sometimes.  But what exactly is one supposed to accept here?  It’s clearly a quasi-Buddhist thing – but not knowing what anything is for sounds more like a psychotic break than a peaceful “journey toward finding and becoming our higher selves and awakening from the dream.” Also – the whole notion that the “dream” is bad and we should wake up and process and share  – what’s with that? Some dreams are good! Like those dreams where you’re friends with the  Scooby gang and you get to be Buffy (Slayer strength! Super quipping power! Joss Whedon writes all your dialogue!)? This is a good dream. I’m not even going to talk about sex dreams.  The point? In my book, dreams = good.  Dreams tap into our unconscious, dreams are ways to access our creativity – look, there’s so much to say about dreams I don’t even know where to begin. Read Jung.

The language these people use makes me twitch.  It feels like they’re one sharing away from donning matching sneakers and drinking the Kool-Aid.  That sounds cold (see above re my black, black heart) but truly, there’s something cult-like about the approach that gives me the heebie-jeebies in a big way.

Also? It seems like the worst kind of charlatanism. You take people who are feeling sad, depressed, lonely, vulnerable – and you rook them out of their hard-earned cash to teach them to “move more quickly away from ego thought and into spirit thought”?   Wrong. Like this guy, who has irked me for years, preying on people who are grieving with his slickster, shyster style. People! Does the fact that he took his show to Vegas indicate anything? Like, that it’s a SHOW?

I suppose I’m being insensitive here. If you want to pay $225 to hear some shmuck in an International Male t-shirt pretend to commune with the Great Beyond, if that makes you feel better, less lost, less alone – more power to you.  If a Course on Miracles makes you feel like you have more control over your life, go on with your bad self.

Just don’t talk to me about it.  I’m not really looking to learn and share and grow.

 

Golden Globes

I love an awards show. 

- Maggie Gyllenhaal is somehow graciously snarky  and looks stunning in an odd blue animal print. I have a little crush on her.

- It’s entirely wrong that America Ferrara should have to stand next to Miley Cyrus. Like, ever. 

- Do Billy Ray Cyrus and Jon Bon Jovi share a hair stylist?

- America Ferrara – hmm. I love her and she looks gorgeous, but the dress is … odd. I think I like it. 

- Kyra Sedgwick in that red dress. Her hair is awful but the dress is something. She’s a little skinny for me, though. Seacrest-instigated awkwardness with Eva Mendes, who looks amazing in a white Dior. 

- OK, now I’m getting giddy. A glimpse of Angelina climbing out of the limo and straightening Brad’s tie, immediately followed by Kate Winslet looking oh-my-god-unearthly-gorgeous.

- Seriously, Kate Winslet is so beautiful it makes me feel short of breath. 

- WTF is Marisa Tomei wearing? I don’t even know how to explain it. Gay pirate secretary meets Maude?

- I don’t think I’ve ever seen Zac Efron live and in person before. What is with his Brylcreem look and wispy facial hair? Baby Don Draper wannabe?

- hee – did Seacrest just get dissed by Angelina and Brad? Yes, yes he did. 

- I know we’re all supposed to be congratulatory about how fabulous Demi Moore looks, but I don’t know – she looks like a sort of hypertanned overeager divorcee to me.

- Wait – Katie Holmes is giving her last performance on Broadway and then flying to LA to be at the after-party? What kind of drugs is he pumping into her?

- Um, is that Sting? Since when has he been a brunette? And is it all the hours of tantric sex making him look so strung out?

- Megan Fox: “I do have a 22″ waist. I basically starved myself for a month. No, I’m only kidding!” Um, no- you’re probably not. Also? You look like an alien.

- Can someone please explain January Jones’ eyebrows to me? 

- Second strike for Mad Men. I’m sorry, people – that’s just wrong. There is no way Anna Paquin is better than January Jones. Also, she looks bad. 

- I guess – it’s just the Golden Globes. Why shave? I’m looking at you, Robert Downey, Jr., Hugh Laurie, Jeremy Effing Piven, and even the peach fuzz on freaking Zac Efron. 

- and yet – Johnny Depp. Don’t shave. Don’t change a thing. I love the way he looks like he might bolt at any moment.

- Has Sally Hawkins ever eaten solid food? She’s charming, but – egad. Her arms are so thin I’m not sure she can hold that statuette. Ah – see?! She can’t hold it!

- thank the gods – Jake Gyllenhaal has cut his hair! Those eyes are really something.

- Are Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange on Ecstasy? I usually find her loopy, flower-child thing oddly endearing, but she just seems whacked tonight.  The Marilyn-in-a-wind-tunnel hair is problematic, and the grey of the dress is too literal, given the movie she’s pimping, but still – I can’t help it, I like the dress.

- OK, damn. Lovely speech by Chris Nolan. Teary-eyed.

- Renee Zellweger looks like a goth mermaid who got caught in a propeller blade. 

- Sigourney Weaver looks amazing – elegant, relaxed, gracious.

- Emma Thompson is a dish and a delight.

- since when do I find Colin Farrell sort of charming? Huh.

- Why is it so appealing to see THE STARS mingling and chatting with one another without knowing the camera is on them?

- Right. Going to bed. I haven’t been keeping track of what awards are still to come, but I find I don’t care. Sleepy.

- Wrong. Angelina Jolie. She actually glows. Is she real?

- My god, really – Kate Winslet, Angelina Jolie, Kristin Scott Thomas – if you put Cate Blanchett in there I think I’d swoon away.

- I don’t think it’s possible for me to find Kate Winslet more charming or adorable. Staying up until she’s done and then I’m going to bed. 

- As soon as I see if Mad Men wins – YES! OK, swooning again in several directions. Christina Hendricks, Jon Hamm, January Jones’ fabulous dress (still, eyebrows. What? Why?) OK, upon further reflection, Christina Hendricks – holy HELL she beautiful. 

- Now I’m going to bed. For real. I’ve swooned enough for one evening, and I’ve been on this couch for the better part of way too many hours.

 

Back at work. One of my coworkers said she feels discombobulated, and it’s true – on the one hand, it’s as if we never left. Here I sit, drinking endless cups of tea and staring out the window at the biopond in winter, just like always. Yet at the same time, it feels strange. I’ve been gone almost 2 weeks – I suppose it feels more like something should be different. It isn’t, though. Ah well.

So – painting the study. That happened. Of course we put it off – and put it off – and put it off. And then it was Sunday and Melanie had to work and I wanted the room painted and the stuff back in it and – so I painted it myself. And it took hours. I may still be painting; being at work may be a hallucination brought on by my fevered brain. I can’t blame the chemicals in the paint, because it’s zero-VOC, low-odor paint, but the sheer magnitude of painting an entire room by myself may have driven me around the bend.  It’s a small room, yes. With tricky angles and a slanted ceiling and this damn pipe in the corner of the room and the plaster sucked up paint like nobody’s business and – well. It’s done! And it’s exactly the color I always envisioned.  Some touching up will be required – a few places where it went on a bit light, and then there are all of those smudges on the ceiling.  M will touch those up, though, because I think I should not be trusted to do the cutting in.  Ever again.

Still – painted! And once we do the touching up – oh. See, I just really thought about that. About how I should wait until I can see the room in daylight (it being the dark of night by the time I finished yesterday), and how M will do the touching up.  Ah, but M will be home late every night this week! And we will not both be home in true daylight until Saturday.  Which means I could have saved myself all of this angst – and probably also the need for touching up – if I had just had some patience and waited until this weekend to paint.

I’m not going to think about that any more.

Instead I will think about what it will be like when it’s done – desk back in place under the window, books back on shelves, me hard at work (or staring out the window into the treetops and the neighbors’ yards), Cupcake asleep at my feet.  That will be lovely and then it will all be worth it.