This week, that's been the main thing I've been thinking about. And from what I read, the consequences range from "We're not even sure we're going in yet," to the destruction of the world in the form of a nuclear World War III. I read some writers who may be overly dramatic. Or, maybe not.
And the thing with Syria has been going on a while now. I remember something mentioning it on the Daily Show back during the presidential election. I remember John McCain calling for intervention in Syria. I was just discovering my more libertarian views and I remember asking Dad, "what do we do when a country is committing crimes against its own people? Should we still remain non-interventionist?"
Dad wrote back, "I'm not 100% sure what the trigger is. The US is certainly inconsistent.
This is a very dangerous road to go down because it isn't always clear
who the good guys are and who the rebels are. Often these kinds of
things come back and bite us and also our going in to kill people who
are killing people doesn't sound like it is necessarily the most moral
thing to do."
That is far more clear to me today than it was then. In fact, the more we learn how muddy the whole situation is, the more clear it is that going in is a bad idea. And that none of the "news" we've been delivered is necessarily accurate.
The way America puts it is that we are on the side of rebels against a regime who is willing to slaughter their own citizens and use chemical weapons on them. And because of the chemical weapon use, we will send warships with cruise missiles to take out their stockpiles of chemical weapons (If war was declared... or whatever we do to start it these days), along with considering sanctions, no-fly zones, and a lot of other war-like things without necessarily putting troops on the ground. Britain, France, Turkey, and numerous other countries back intervention.
In reality, we don't even have proof that the regime was the one using chemical weapons. UN inspectors only just decided that chemical weapons were actually used. It seems stupid to think that the regime, which was winning against the rebels, would use chemical weapons when UN inspectors were in the area, just in time to call down a mass of countries to interfere on the rebels' behalf. The rebels say the regime did it, the regime says the rebels did it, and both sides point fingers at each other. Also, the rebels have strong Islamist and terrorist links, and we are talking about aiding them and giving them weapons? Even the conflict in general isn't so clear. The rebels also kill people. It's not just a civil war made up of a distressed country against their government, but of two factions, neither having been reported as giving a care for civilian life.
And do we think that bombing chemical weapon stockpiles we not affect civilians at all? Somehow nobody will be hurt?
Unlike a few of our past wars, I think we are getting more and more disillusioned. We know this wouldn't be a fight for our freedom, and even the claims that we are going in because they were behaving badly, because we need to spread freedom and democracy by force, are not just being taken for granted.
Twitter has a trending hashtag called #NameObamasNewWar. A popular one is "Operation Nobel Peace Prize." Others pun on the name of Syria with "Operation Joker: Why So Syrias?" and "Operation Syriasly?" The Twitter account claiming to be the press account of hacktivist group Anonymous is calling people out for just tweeting, saying, "Operation American's are going to tweet and not much more." Other tweets they posted talk about how it would be better to aid the refugees and actually take action... instead of just exploding social networks, like we are.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Goodreads and Mistaken Identity
I must apologize. I did not know.
Apparently, that link on the side of my blog I had labeled "Goodreads" did not go to my Goodreads page; it went to the page of someone else named Linsey.
Apparently, my brother clicked over from my blog and was astounded by the content of my Goodreads page. "Linsey read the 50 Shades of Grey series?" he asked Mom. Mom did not think so, but confronted by evidence like a Goodreads page in my name was not sure.
Andrew told me I had read 50 Shades of Grey, as evidenced by my Goodreads page. I denied it and asked, "Are we even friends on Goodreads?" He laughs, says no, and I think it's a joke. My cousin Tyler says, "Really, I thought that was the sort of thing you'd be in to?" Apparently, my cousin and I are not close.
Later, Mom asks me if I've read 50 Shades of Grey. I deny it again. "It's on your Goodreads," she says. "Andrew found it. It says you gave them five stars." I get out my phone app and go through all 122 books I've bothered adding to Goodreads. No 50 Shades of Grey. "They aren't here," I tell her.
She pulls up my blog, clicks the link, and it goes to a page under the name of Linsey. There is no photo. And even though the spelling is the same, I have not read a single book under the "Read" list. "This isn't me," I tell her, also noting the lists have a different number of books on them than my lists.
But it links from my blog. Odd, that.
I have not read 50 Shades of Grey. I actually first heard of the book on Goodreads where a friend (read: someone I might have never actually met) had ranked it five stars. I was interested in good books, so I clicked on the link to read reviews. People had it recommended for people who enjoy "erotica." Wait a minute, I thought. I don't enjoy erotica. If the book has sex, I'd rather it fade to black in an insinuating manner. If it starts listing the name of parts, I'm done. I read the first Sookie Stackhouse (True Blood) book. I finished it and resolved to not read another. I only read reviews on 50 Shades of Grey... mostly to be able to make fun of it better. Not only is it "erotica," but it is supposedly poorly written. And I cannot forgive that either. You defend it on claims that somehow erotica is a good thing? I attack on the Grammar Police front! Defend against that!
But no, I have not read it. I have no desire to read it. Unless to make fun of it in better detail. But from what I've heard of it, it's not even worth that.
I think I fixed my link now. You can tell it's me if I have a picture of me. The other Linsey didn't have a picture at all. Also, I have a decent amount of Steampunk books on my list. My favorite books include Neromancer, Calvin and Hobbes, The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Chronicles of Narnia, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I've read Star Wars books. And Steampunk books. And Fantasy books. Not erotica books.
It's also a shame because I stopped book reviews on my blog because Goodreads was a better platform for them. I haven't done a whole lot recently, but the book "In, but Not Of," was one of my most recent.
Really weird thing is that I test all my links. So if I was being consistent Linsey, I would have tested it back when I added it. And the idea that it links to another Linsey that I do not know seems suspect. Sad that someone sharing my name could have such a poor taste in books.
Link should work now. Please, let me know if it doesn't!
Apparently, that link on the side of my blog I had labeled "Goodreads" did not go to my Goodreads page; it went to the page of someone else named Linsey.
Apparently, my brother clicked over from my blog and was astounded by the content of my Goodreads page. "Linsey read the 50 Shades of Grey series?" he asked Mom. Mom did not think so, but confronted by evidence like a Goodreads page in my name was not sure.
Andrew told me I had read 50 Shades of Grey, as evidenced by my Goodreads page. I denied it and asked, "Are we even friends on Goodreads?" He laughs, says no, and I think it's a joke. My cousin Tyler says, "Really, I thought that was the sort of thing you'd be in to?" Apparently, my cousin and I are not close.
Later, Mom asks me if I've read 50 Shades of Grey. I deny it again. "It's on your Goodreads," she says. "Andrew found it. It says you gave them five stars." I get out my phone app and go through all 122 books I've bothered adding to Goodreads. No 50 Shades of Grey. "They aren't here," I tell her.
She pulls up my blog, clicks the link, and it goes to a page under the name of Linsey. There is no photo. And even though the spelling is the same, I have not read a single book under the "Read" list. "This isn't me," I tell her, also noting the lists have a different number of books on them than my lists.
But it links from my blog. Odd, that.
I have not read 50 Shades of Grey. I actually first heard of the book on Goodreads where a friend (read: someone I might have never actually met) had ranked it five stars. I was interested in good books, so I clicked on the link to read reviews. People had it recommended for people who enjoy "erotica." Wait a minute, I thought. I don't enjoy erotica. If the book has sex, I'd rather it fade to black in an insinuating manner. If it starts listing the name of parts, I'm done. I read the first Sookie Stackhouse (True Blood) book. I finished it and resolved to not read another. I only read reviews on 50 Shades of Grey... mostly to be able to make fun of it better. Not only is it "erotica," but it is supposedly poorly written. And I cannot forgive that either. You defend it on claims that somehow erotica is a good thing? I attack on the Grammar Police front! Defend against that!
But no, I have not read it. I have no desire to read it. Unless to make fun of it in better detail. But from what I've heard of it, it's not even worth that.
I think I fixed my link now. You can tell it's me if I have a picture of me. The other Linsey didn't have a picture at all. Also, I have a decent amount of Steampunk books on my list. My favorite books include Neromancer, Calvin and Hobbes, The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Chronicles of Narnia, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I've read Star Wars books. And Steampunk books. And Fantasy books. Not erotica books.
It's also a shame because I stopped book reviews on my blog because Goodreads was a better platform for them. I haven't done a whole lot recently, but the book "In, but Not Of," was one of my most recent.
Really weird thing is that I test all my links. So if I was being consistent Linsey, I would have tested it back when I added it. And the idea that it links to another Linsey that I do not know seems suspect. Sad that someone sharing my name could have such a poor taste in books.
Link should work now. Please, let me know if it doesn't!
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Parallel Lives... In My Head
I had an interview for a job today, part-time receptionist position at McFarland Clinic. In all, the interview went well. She said my dreads were not an issue and would pass my application up the chain. I guess that either they'll pick from her picks, or I might have another interview with the specific branch.
But it's not just an interview, ever. Every time I interview for a job, I live a lifetime in that job in my head. Sometimes it's fanciful. Sometimes it's grounded in reality. But it's always me trying to see if I can cope with working at that place. Because if I work somewhere over a month, it might as well be forever. I live in the moment (except when I have something to worry about). If something is over a week away, it might as well not be happening
And so, I was a receptionist in my head. I had a little desk, computer set up. Was polite. Had inter-office conflicts. Learned what the other receptionists did in their free time. Wondered if I had free time. Learned. Walked to work in the snow. Decorated the office for Christmas. And in all, it looked ok.
I have to know that because I'm scared I'll get stuck in a job I don't like without moving as an excuse. They said it's a high stress job. I've been in high stress situations and as long as there is structure, I can cope.
With Wheatsfield, I saw myself going to classes and getting connected with the hippies and when I had my first child, carrying them in a sling while checking people out (a woman there totally does that and it's adorable). It was the idea of community and fun coworkers.
Also, I wanted to be a pilot. I imaged flying and long trips and wheeling identical little suitcases through airports.
With Valvoline Instant Oil Change, I thought I'd become an awesome mechanic person. Then, you know, reality. Dream killer, that.
Oh, I'm scared to work! I'm scared to set a schedule and then have to meet it and request time off and so on. It's not that I am doing anything. It's that I have the infinite possibility to do things!
But I like money, too.
Oh, if I get a job at McFarland Clinic, I'd be required to get a flu shot every year. That or wear a face mask for all of flu season. I mentioned it to Mom, and she said, "small price to pay for a job." My convictions and principles are a small price to pay?
Eh. I'd get the shot. Ain't no way I'm wearing a mask for five months.
But it's not just an interview, ever. Every time I interview for a job, I live a lifetime in that job in my head. Sometimes it's fanciful. Sometimes it's grounded in reality. But it's always me trying to see if I can cope with working at that place. Because if I work somewhere over a month, it might as well be forever. I live in the moment (except when I have something to worry about). If something is over a week away, it might as well not be happening
And so, I was a receptionist in my head. I had a little desk, computer set up. Was polite. Had inter-office conflicts. Learned what the other receptionists did in their free time. Wondered if I had free time. Learned. Walked to work in the snow. Decorated the office for Christmas. And in all, it looked ok.
I have to know that because I'm scared I'll get stuck in a job I don't like without moving as an excuse. They said it's a high stress job. I've been in high stress situations and as long as there is structure, I can cope.
With Wheatsfield, I saw myself going to classes and getting connected with the hippies and when I had my first child, carrying them in a sling while checking people out (a woman there totally does that and it's adorable). It was the idea of community and fun coworkers.
Also, I wanted to be a pilot. I imaged flying and long trips and wheeling identical little suitcases through airports.
With Valvoline Instant Oil Change, I thought I'd become an awesome mechanic person. Then, you know, reality. Dream killer, that.
Oh, I'm scared to work! I'm scared to set a schedule and then have to meet it and request time off and so on. It's not that I am doing anything. It's that I have the infinite possibility to do things!
But I like money, too.
Oh, if I get a job at McFarland Clinic, I'd be required to get a flu shot every year. That or wear a face mask for all of flu season. I mentioned it to Mom, and she said, "small price to pay for a job." My convictions and principles are a small price to pay?
Eh. I'd get the shot. Ain't no way I'm wearing a mask for five months.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Follow-up to last post
I just HAD to share these with you, I found them after the last post.
Yoda Star Wars Onesie
Wookie Star Wars Onesie
That last one! Isn't it hilarious? Isn't it adorable? Squeeee!
Yoda Star Wars Onesie
Wookie Star Wars Onesie
That last one! Isn't it hilarious? Isn't it adorable? Squeeee!
Planning for kids (not the useful kind)
It is somewhat inevitable that I consider children at this point, even though I can't say assuredly I have decided I'm going to have them yet. Probably. But to all those people who keep asking, I'm still scared and David says another one to two years, when he's had a chance to finish the bathroom and save up a little money.
Don't tell me it doesn't always go according to plan. I know that. But that's not a good reason to not make plans, it's just a good reason to not have a death grip on a plan. But I digress.
Actually, I digress frequently. Have you ever had a conversation with me? I try and keep things efficient, but then I get off on these tangents...
Right then. The reasons I keep thinking about kids, despite my current desire to remain unencumbered (at least until after snowboard this winter vacation), are as follows. 1) The puppy. It gave me a brief glimpse into what it was like to care for another being entirely helpless. Though you know the puppy didn't work out (and that might say something about my maternal instincts), I was struck by the facts that while a puppy was always going to be a dog and pet, having a baby would be a far more worthwhile endeavor. And involve less biting, I hope. 2) My pregnancy scare. No, read that right. It was a scare, I AM NOT PREGNANT. Basically, after I got back from Boston, a combination of sickness and a weird reaction to my vitamins produced a morning-sickness-like effect. Enough that I actually bought a test. 3) As David and I are both the oldest and most married of both of our families (step not included), we are getting a lot of pressure to start producing the grandbabies, nieces, whatever, ranging from people being like "It's your calling in life!" to "I want a baby and I want it now!" 4) I volunteer at Informed Choices and with the number of pregnant women, baby paraphernalia and general subject matter, it's really quite impossible to not think about it.
So what are my plans? Well, unofficially, I know I will do a ton of research as that is my tendency. You have no idea how many things I learned about dogs. But as I will have around nine months to think about it, I'm putting it off for now. No need to go crazy. Also, I'll have nine months to come up with good arguments about what we should name our baby (not David Matthew Gravlin III), circumcision, and vaccination (preferably to not do either of those things).
David, if you are reading this, know my not talking about it isn't an admission of defeat. Just you wait.
But down to the real part of my planning. I am a geek. Not a serious solid I-know-every-Jedi-on-the-council geek, but I happen to love Star Wars and computer games.
And as Star Wars happened to be a staple of my childhood (I think I had more lightsaber and force games than standard war and guns), I am planning on it being a staple of my kids' childhood. And why not? It's hanging on pretty well for being such an old concept.
But what you should consider is the vast amount of awesome Star Wars themed kids stuff.
I present a bookshelf.
That, if you don't know, is an AT-AT, featured at the beginning of Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back. I recall a specific instance when a hill with a curving branch in front of it became an AT-AT cockpit for me and my siblings and friends. This could double as a doll house!
How about kids books?
Tell me those aren't cute.
How about an alphabet?
I think it's based on the animated web series, which I haven't watched since it was clearly made for children. But if Q stands for Quinlan Vos, who is not really present in any of the live action movies, that's my guess.
Seriously though, if my kids aren't geeks, I'm doing something wrong. It's too bad I quit World of Warcraft, cause from what I hear, you can get them to farm resources from a young age.
Don't tell me it doesn't always go according to plan. I know that. But that's not a good reason to not make plans, it's just a good reason to not have a death grip on a plan. But I digress.
Actually, I digress frequently. Have you ever had a conversation with me? I try and keep things efficient, but then I get off on these tangents...
Right then. The reasons I keep thinking about kids, despite my current desire to remain unencumbered (at least until after snowboard this winter vacation), are as follows. 1) The puppy. It gave me a brief glimpse into what it was like to care for another being entirely helpless. Though you know the puppy didn't work out (and that might say something about my maternal instincts), I was struck by the facts that while a puppy was always going to be a dog and pet, having a baby would be a far more worthwhile endeavor. And involve less biting, I hope. 2) My pregnancy scare. No, read that right. It was a scare, I AM NOT PREGNANT. Basically, after I got back from Boston, a combination of sickness and a weird reaction to my vitamins produced a morning-sickness-like effect. Enough that I actually bought a test. 3) As David and I are both the oldest and most married of both of our families (step not included), we are getting a lot of pressure to start producing the grandbabies, nieces, whatever, ranging from people being like "It's your calling in life!" to "I want a baby and I want it now!" 4) I volunteer at Informed Choices and with the number of pregnant women, baby paraphernalia and general subject matter, it's really quite impossible to not think about it.
So what are my plans? Well, unofficially, I know I will do a ton of research as that is my tendency. You have no idea how many things I learned about dogs. But as I will have around nine months to think about it, I'm putting it off for now. No need to go crazy. Also, I'll have nine months to come up with good arguments about what we should name our baby (not David Matthew Gravlin III), circumcision, and vaccination (preferably to not do either of those things).
David, if you are reading this, know my not talking about it isn't an admission of defeat. Just you wait.
But down to the real part of my planning. I am a geek. Not a serious solid I-know-every-Jedi-on-the-council geek, but I happen to love Star Wars and computer games.
And as Star Wars happened to be a staple of my childhood (I think I had more lightsaber and force games than standard war and guns), I am planning on it being a staple of my kids' childhood. And why not? It's hanging on pretty well for being such an old concept.
But what you should consider is the vast amount of awesome Star Wars themed kids stuff.
I present a bookshelf.
That, if you don't know, is an AT-AT, featured at the beginning of Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back. I recall a specific instance when a hill with a curving branch in front of it became an AT-AT cockpit for me and my siblings and friends. This could double as a doll house!
How about kids books?
Tell me those aren't cute.
How about an alphabet?
I think it's based on the animated web series, which I haven't watched since it was clearly made for children. But if Q stands for Quinlan Vos, who is not really present in any of the live action movies, that's my guess.
Seriously though, if my kids aren't geeks, I'm doing something wrong. It's too bad I quit World of Warcraft, cause from what I hear, you can get them to farm resources from a young age.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
The lures of free sangria
That's it. I'm thinking about putting my foot down. No more biking to Prairie Moon.
Now, Prairie Moon is a local winery that has live music most Sundays during the summer. You can bring snacks, you can't bring drinks, and they sell their own wine, sangria, some beer, and pizza. The cover for Sunday is $3 and you get a complimentary glass of sangria... which they normally sell for $4, so really it's like they force you to buy a discounted glass of sangria. The horror.
Anyway, once a month they have "Cycle Sunday," meaning if you bike to Prairie Moon, cover is free. Including that glass of sangria. Considering I'm already a snobby biker, I don't need a whole lot more motivation to look down my nose at car-driving folk.
Except for one thing: there is no good way to get to Prairie Moon on a bike.
The first time I went, I convinced David to come with me since Mom and Dad were off doing something else assuredly less fun. And he would get in free and I would drink his sangria. Everyone is happy. So, using our phone navigation system's bike option, we maneuvered around north Ames a bit and then hit a bike path parallel to George Washington Carver Ave. And then it pulled an Ames on us and dead-ended with no warning and we had the options to either backtrack a ways to the last intersection or go through the ditch to get to the road. It had been raining and the bottom of the ditch was squishy, not that we could see it cause it was one of those unkempt or "natural" ditches and over our heads with grass.
So we made it to George Washington Carver Ave and were forced to ride as far to the edge of the road as we could, which wasn't far as the only shoulder it had was gravel, and in turn force people to go around us.
So next time I decided to bike, I used Navigator to find a different path. It too looped me through a bit of north Ames before directing me to some part of Ada Hayden that didn't have a paved path. I biked on something between crushed rock and gravel for a bit before it turned me on a path that had been gravel in a past life and was working hard on covering that fact up with foliage. Which led me to a gate I had to walk around out on to a gravel road called Grant Ave which was really loose in some spots and really bumpy in others. And a hill. I couldn't bike on the edge of the road because my bike would slide. Which in turn dumped me onto 190th street. At least that has a decent shoulder.
This time, I'm like, "It wasn't that bad." Though I did wear a helmet this time. Well, on Bloomington Road, they tore up the bike path from the four way stop all the way to Stone Brook and I had to ride on the road there. I stopped for a car on Grant Ave and with the gravel could barely get moving back up the hill. I started thinking about making my peace with God.
So, until somebody bothers to make a bike path from Ames to Prairie Moon, it doesn't seem like a very good idea. Not for free sangria, anyway.
Now, Prairie Moon is a local winery that has live music most Sundays during the summer. You can bring snacks, you can't bring drinks, and they sell their own wine, sangria, some beer, and pizza. The cover for Sunday is $3 and you get a complimentary glass of sangria... which they normally sell for $4, so really it's like they force you to buy a discounted glass of sangria. The horror.
Anyway, once a month they have "Cycle Sunday," meaning if you bike to Prairie Moon, cover is free. Including that glass of sangria. Considering I'm already a snobby biker, I don't need a whole lot more motivation to look down my nose at car-driving folk.
Except for one thing: there is no good way to get to Prairie Moon on a bike.
The first time I went, I convinced David to come with me since Mom and Dad were off doing something else assuredly less fun. And he would get in free and I would drink his sangria. Everyone is happy. So, using our phone navigation system's bike option, we maneuvered around north Ames a bit and then hit a bike path parallel to George Washington Carver Ave. And then it pulled an Ames on us and dead-ended with no warning and we had the options to either backtrack a ways to the last intersection or go through the ditch to get to the road. It had been raining and the bottom of the ditch was squishy, not that we could see it cause it was one of those unkempt or "natural" ditches and over our heads with grass.
So we made it to George Washington Carver Ave and were forced to ride as far to the edge of the road as we could, which wasn't far as the only shoulder it had was gravel, and in turn force people to go around us.
So next time I decided to bike, I used Navigator to find a different path. It too looped me through a bit of north Ames before directing me to some part of Ada Hayden that didn't have a paved path. I biked on something between crushed rock and gravel for a bit before it turned me on a path that had been gravel in a past life and was working hard on covering that fact up with foliage. Which led me to a gate I had to walk around out on to a gravel road called Grant Ave which was really loose in some spots and really bumpy in others. And a hill. I couldn't bike on the edge of the road because my bike would slide. Which in turn dumped me onto 190th street. At least that has a decent shoulder.
This time, I'm like, "It wasn't that bad." Though I did wear a helmet this time. Well, on Bloomington Road, they tore up the bike path from the four way stop all the way to Stone Brook and I had to ride on the road there. I stopped for a car on Grant Ave and with the gravel could barely get moving back up the hill. I started thinking about making my peace with God.
So, until somebody bothers to make a bike path from Ames to Prairie Moon, it doesn't seem like a very good idea. Not for free sangria, anyway.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Things You May Not Know!
Here is the first installment of Things You May Not Know! It is a section where I tell you something I have discovered that you may not be aware of.
Will this become a reoccurring segment?
That is a Thing I do not know!
Anyway.
Did you know that UPS truck drivers have special socks? They are brown and have the UPS logo on the side. I was somewhat astounded that such a thing existed the first time I saw it.
Recently, I met a UPS guy and asked him about the socks. Apparently, the only way they'll let you wear shorts in the summer is if you wear UPS special socks with them. And they cost $5 per pair and the logo falls off and it's just a bad deal all around.
Which in turn gave me enough information to identify another UPS guy not obeying the rules, wearing just regular black socks with his shoes. And I, of course, pointed it out to him.
"I guess I'm just a rebel," he told me.
And now you know.
Will this become a reoccurring segment?
That is a Thing I do not know!
Anyway.
Did you know that UPS truck drivers have special socks? They are brown and have the UPS logo on the side. I was somewhat astounded that such a thing existed the first time I saw it.
Recently, I met a UPS guy and asked him about the socks. Apparently, the only way they'll let you wear shorts in the summer is if you wear UPS special socks with them. And they cost $5 per pair and the logo falls off and it's just a bad deal all around.
Which in turn gave me enough information to identify another UPS guy not obeying the rules, wearing just regular black socks with his shoes. And I, of course, pointed it out to him.
"I guess I'm just a rebel," he told me.
And now you know.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Adventures in Ames!
Today, I biked around Ames. I would like to impress you with the number of places I went to.
Here it goes!
I went to:
Fareway
Hobby Lobby
Library
Joann's Fabric
Downtown Deli
Swanks
North Grand Wal-Mart
Duff Wal-Mart
Target
BAM
Wheatsfield
Grandma's Attic
Kohl's
And I stood outside the doors of Pita Pit and the Sunshine Thrift Shop or whatever it's called above Downtown Deli.
A moment of silence for Pita Pit, which is apparently closing.
No, really, it's a tragedy. I listed that place as my favorite cheap restaurant in Ames. My small group leader, Nikki, took me there way back in the day and I've loved it ever since.
*silence*
Anyway, today I had a mission. I had a few things to pick up and I wanted scout out things for my Steampunk outfit. Which didn't go very well, actually. Living in Ames has made me realize how limited my options for non-trendy things are.
But, in no particular order, I went to Fareway for Soy Sauce, Hobby Lobby to look at watch pendants, any other steampunk pendants, and leather pouches, Library to return a book and ended up picking up two other books, Joann's Fabric to inspect frabrics for my steampunk skirt (which I didn't end up doing. Apparently I need expert advice on this), Downtown Deli for lunch, Swanks to see if they could fix my cheap costume jewelry watch necklace (they couldn't), North Grand Wal-Mart as the first stop to see if they could fix said watch, Duff Wal-Mart to make up for Target not having anything, Target because I was looking for striped tights or stockings and a wide belt (didn't find any), BAM because I wanted a book on learning Turkish (not popular enough), Wheatsfield because I wanted anti-cold advice, Grandma's attic to see if they had any cool antique-y maybe steampunkish stuff, and Kohl's to check on a shirt I'm stalking.
I normally don't approve of "selfies" with a cell phone camera clearly shown, but this isn't Facebook. And I can't decide if I want that shirt in maroon (pictured), army green, or white. For Steampunk. And I can't buy the shirt until it gets at least close to $20. It started off at $45 and is currently 40% discounted.
And I bought/obtained:
1984 by George Orwell
Red Prophet by Orson Scott Card
Empire of Ruins by Arthur Slade
Kikoman Soy Sauce
A tiny bottle of Salty Watermelon UV vodka
Traditional Medicinals Echinacea Plus tea
A 7-inch wheat canadian bacon and swiss deli sandwich
And what did I learn? Ames is bad for Steampunk tendencies and I really wish I was still college age. I biked across campus three times today.
I think I liked it because it was one of those rare times where I belonged and was defined. I was a journalism student, a gamer, a dorm resident, and I shared those things with many other people, along with the buildings and campus and schedules and life.
But I don't miss homework. That can still die in a fire.
Here it goes!
I went to:
Fareway
Hobby Lobby
Library
Joann's Fabric
Downtown Deli
Swanks
North Grand Wal-Mart
Duff Wal-Mart
Target
BAM
Wheatsfield
Grandma's Attic
Kohl's
And I stood outside the doors of Pita Pit and the Sunshine Thrift Shop or whatever it's called above Downtown Deli.
A moment of silence for Pita Pit, which is apparently closing.
No, really, it's a tragedy. I listed that place as my favorite cheap restaurant in Ames. My small group leader, Nikki, took me there way back in the day and I've loved it ever since.
*silence*
Anyway, today I had a mission. I had a few things to pick up and I wanted scout out things for my Steampunk outfit. Which didn't go very well, actually. Living in Ames has made me realize how limited my options for non-trendy things are.
But, in no particular order, I went to Fareway for Soy Sauce, Hobby Lobby to look at watch pendants, any other steampunk pendants, and leather pouches, Library to return a book and ended up picking up two other books, Joann's Fabric to inspect frabrics for my steampunk skirt (which I didn't end up doing. Apparently I need expert advice on this), Downtown Deli for lunch, Swanks to see if they could fix my cheap costume jewelry watch necklace (they couldn't), North Grand Wal-Mart as the first stop to see if they could fix said watch, Duff Wal-Mart to make up for Target not having anything, Target because I was looking for striped tights or stockings and a wide belt (didn't find any), BAM because I wanted a book on learning Turkish (not popular enough), Wheatsfield because I wanted anti-cold advice, Grandma's attic to see if they had any cool antique-y maybe steampunkish stuff, and Kohl's to check on a shirt I'm stalking.
I normally don't approve of "selfies" with a cell phone camera clearly shown, but this isn't Facebook. And I can't decide if I want that shirt in maroon (pictured), army green, or white. For Steampunk. And I can't buy the shirt until it gets at least close to $20. It started off at $45 and is currently 40% discounted.
And I bought/obtained:
1984 by George Orwell
Red Prophet by Orson Scott Card
Empire of Ruins by Arthur Slade
Kikoman Soy Sauce
A tiny bottle of Salty Watermelon UV vodka
Traditional Medicinals Echinacea Plus tea
A 7-inch wheat canadian bacon and swiss deli sandwich
And what did I learn? Ames is bad for Steampunk tendencies and I really wish I was still college age. I biked across campus three times today.
I think I liked it because it was one of those rare times where I belonged and was defined. I was a journalism student, a gamer, a dorm resident, and I shared those things with many other people, along with the buildings and campus and schedules and life.
But I don't miss homework. That can still die in a fire.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Live and Let Live
This past weekend, I attended the Family Leadership Summit here in Ames. It's a political Christian worldview sort of conference, which bemoans the direction we're heading in, expands on some of the current issues, and exhorts us to get involved. I found it entertaining and I didn't even stay long enough to watch Donald Trump.
One annoying thing was that I was pretty sure I was being profiled. I walk in the door, show them my ticket and get it scanned, and the guy directs me to the table to sign in. Not six feet further another guy is like, "You need to check in," blocking my way toward the rest of the building and point at the table that I'm walking toward. It's not like something that I thought about later and I'm like, "That might have been kind of weird." I was confused right then and just mutter, "Thanks." As in, do you not see me walking toward the table you're pointing at?
We were given lanyards with a tag on the end. It didn't have our name or anything, just a little Family Leadership Summit logo, title, time, website, and smart phone code for that same website. Later we went outside to eat our box lunches and as we were coming in, we were all wearing ours because we were told we wouldn't be allowed back in. Well, my tag had flipped around to the back, so it just looked white, but it was clear I was wearing the same navy blue lanyard with "The Family Leader" printed on it in white, right? "Would you flip that around?" a staff/volunteer asked me as I walked through the door. I smiled wryly and flipped it around. Seriously though, if I'd gone to the trouble of obtaining a lanyard and tag and thought maybe I could sneak in if only I cut out a piece of paper the exact same shape and size as the one everyone else was wearing... don't you think I'd have bothered stealing an actual one?
I don't know. It might be the dreadlocks. And the fact that I was fairly young compared to the rest of the crowd. I could be one of the picketing atheists, a troublemaker, or worse, a Ron Paul libertarian. Got me there, I guess.
I really enjoyed the conference, and I might touch on more of the things I learned and heard there in the days to come, but one thing really stands out to me.
I have a pretty lax "live and let live" social viewpoint. When it comes to gay marriage, I don't really know what to think. I don't care what they do as long as it doesn't infringe anybody else's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Religiously, I don't approve. Politically, I'm a libertarian. Less laws. I could be wrong in this and I realize it is a major Christian and Republican opinion that we need to save marriage. I've also heard that the government doesn't have any business in marriage anyway. I don't know.
However, what really really gets me is when other people aren't so much "live and let live," but they want it their way and they want you to want it their way and give your blessing, regardless of how you feel about it.
Gay marriage. I don't really care. Gays suing cake makers and photographers and people that own a church building because they don't want to patronize gay couples? I care. You and I and homosexuals all know that for every person who doesn't like them, there is another who is willing to tumble head over heels to show their support for the gay lifestyle. And from what I've heard, all the businesses that have turned down homosexuals have done so politely and offered references to other businesses who would not mind doing their service. If it were me, I'd be like, "Oh, ok, that's a bummer. I'll go where I'm wanted." Cause who would want to force a cake maker to make a cake for you when they don't want to?
And I believe that businesses all have the right to refuse service. If you own a business, you should be able to choose what to do with that business. If people don't like what you do, they can find a different business. Simple. If you are mad a business turns you out, you can decry them, post an editorial, raise public opinion or awareness, whatever. It's all about PR. But some people are out to start a fight. They find people who decline based on religious matters and go after them legally. It doesn't matter that you own your own photography business and should be able to choose your clients, we're going to sue you so you no longer have the choice. There might be 50 other cake-makers out there that wouldn't mind doing this for us, but we want it to be all of them. We aren't content for you to have your own opinion. We want your opinion and your business to be and do what we want them to. We aren't content with greater acceptance. We want total acceptance and we're willing to shove the legal process down your throat until you can't ever say another word against us.
Which makes me add air quotes every time someone says we live in a "free" country. Those are private businesses. They aren't infringing on any of your rights. You don't have the right to make a private business do what you want it to do.
Another thing that makes it clear to me is a story I heard about a homosexual couple suing an adoption agency for not letting them adopt. There are other adoption agencies out there that let homosexuals adopt. But they had to go after this one and it ended with the adoption agency closing its doors. What happens to those kids? The couple in their blind quest to make everyone accept them destroyed something that was just supposed to help children.
I wouldn't want to let them adopt either, as they clearly don't care about the children, just making their point.
One annoying thing was that I was pretty sure I was being profiled. I walk in the door, show them my ticket and get it scanned, and the guy directs me to the table to sign in. Not six feet further another guy is like, "You need to check in," blocking my way toward the rest of the building and point at the table that I'm walking toward. It's not like something that I thought about later and I'm like, "That might have been kind of weird." I was confused right then and just mutter, "Thanks." As in, do you not see me walking toward the table you're pointing at?
We were given lanyards with a tag on the end. It didn't have our name or anything, just a little Family Leadership Summit logo, title, time, website, and smart phone code for that same website. Later we went outside to eat our box lunches and as we were coming in, we were all wearing ours because we were told we wouldn't be allowed back in. Well, my tag had flipped around to the back, so it just looked white, but it was clear I was wearing the same navy blue lanyard with "The Family Leader" printed on it in white, right? "Would you flip that around?" a staff/volunteer asked me as I walked through the door. I smiled wryly and flipped it around. Seriously though, if I'd gone to the trouble of obtaining a lanyard and tag and thought maybe I could sneak in if only I cut out a piece of paper the exact same shape and size as the one everyone else was wearing... don't you think I'd have bothered stealing an actual one?
I don't know. It might be the dreadlocks. And the fact that I was fairly young compared to the rest of the crowd. I could be one of the picketing atheists, a troublemaker, or worse, a Ron Paul libertarian. Got me there, I guess.
I really enjoyed the conference, and I might touch on more of the things I learned and heard there in the days to come, but one thing really stands out to me.
I have a pretty lax "live and let live" social viewpoint. When it comes to gay marriage, I don't really know what to think. I don't care what they do as long as it doesn't infringe anybody else's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Religiously, I don't approve. Politically, I'm a libertarian. Less laws. I could be wrong in this and I realize it is a major Christian and Republican opinion that we need to save marriage. I've also heard that the government doesn't have any business in marriage anyway. I don't know.
However, what really really gets me is when other people aren't so much "live and let live," but they want it their way and they want you to want it their way and give your blessing, regardless of how you feel about it.
Gay marriage. I don't really care. Gays suing cake makers and photographers and people that own a church building because they don't want to patronize gay couples? I care. You and I and homosexuals all know that for every person who doesn't like them, there is another who is willing to tumble head over heels to show their support for the gay lifestyle. And from what I've heard, all the businesses that have turned down homosexuals have done so politely and offered references to other businesses who would not mind doing their service. If it were me, I'd be like, "Oh, ok, that's a bummer. I'll go where I'm wanted." Cause who would want to force a cake maker to make a cake for you when they don't want to?
And I believe that businesses all have the right to refuse service. If you own a business, you should be able to choose what to do with that business. If people don't like what you do, they can find a different business. Simple. If you are mad a business turns you out, you can decry them, post an editorial, raise public opinion or awareness, whatever. It's all about PR. But some people are out to start a fight. They find people who decline based on religious matters and go after them legally. It doesn't matter that you own your own photography business and should be able to choose your clients, we're going to sue you so you no longer have the choice. There might be 50 other cake-makers out there that wouldn't mind doing this for us, but we want it to be all of them. We aren't content for you to have your own opinion. We want your opinion and your business to be and do what we want them to. We aren't content with greater acceptance. We want total acceptance and we're willing to shove the legal process down your throat until you can't ever say another word against us.
Which makes me add air quotes every time someone says we live in a "free" country. Those are private businesses. They aren't infringing on any of your rights. You don't have the right to make a private business do what you want it to do.
Another thing that makes it clear to me is a story I heard about a homosexual couple suing an adoption agency for not letting them adopt. There are other adoption agencies out there that let homosexuals adopt. But they had to go after this one and it ended with the adoption agency closing its doors. What happens to those kids? The couple in their blind quest to make everyone accept them destroyed something that was just supposed to help children.
I wouldn't want to let them adopt either, as they clearly don't care about the children, just making their point.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Musings on Biking
I've been meaning to write a more general post on things I thought while on RAGBRAI.
Like about tandem bikes. You know, bikes that seat two or more people. Generally, that's usually two and not over four, although I did see this thing in one town that seated 24 people and was as wide as a car. It also had a driver and a motor for hills. But, in general, tandem bikes are two people entering into a deal that is not unlike marriage, in my opinion. The one in the back says, "I trust you enough to let you drive." I can see good things about tandem bikes. You never lose your biking partner on RAGBRAI. You can share music. The person in back can just chill and doesn't have to steer at all.
That said, I have no intention of ever riding a tandem bike. Let someone else steer a bike I am riding? Are you crazy? And I certainly don't want to be responsible for steering for someone else. I like my choices and my mistakes to be just mine. And I hear a lot of couples can't do them. They buy them and sell them back. And it'd probably take a lot of communication. The pedals move the same for both spots. It was actually creepy watching some people operating in total sync. They'd stand together, drop together, legs going exactly the same.
But you'd probably get more power on hills.
What else did I think about on RAGBRAI? I should have written write after I got back. I can't remember anything specific longer than a week.
Oh yes, riding personalities. When I bike, it takes me a little bit to get warmed up, especially in the morning. I'll need like ten minutes or so of not going real fast. And then after that, I'm at my highest energy. In the beginning of RAGBRAI, I was often in front of Mom and Dad. And later in the day, I slow down a little. It becomes more traveling than charging. And on longer days, it then turns to survival.
Dad is like me, except he doesn't need to warm up, he can go fast right out of the gate. I often find myself behind him in the beginning. He too slows a bit as the day gets longer.
Mom... I'd say she is more of a sight-see-er in the beginning of RAGBRAI. She'd toodle along at her own pace, often the last of our party until we started getting near the end of the trail for the day. Dad and I would be slowing down at this point, but Mom gets what Dad refers to as the "horse to the barn" syndrome. She'll explain it as putting on her music or her "happy place" of biking speed or something like that, but the closer we get to being done, the faster Mom goes. One ride we did before RAGBRAI on the Raccoon River Valley Trail, a 72 mile loop, we were on the final path and Mom said she'd slow down as Dad had had enough of that ride. And then she turned her music on and was matching my 20-mile-per-hour tailwind speed. Dad accused her of speeding up.
Now, this ability is more than just the time of day. On the last day of RAGBRAI, we had a time limit. The course was officially closed at 15:00 and our bus was leaving at 14:30. Mom had an agenda. Dad and I were content to let her be first all day.
Back at home, I know why I can't go RAGBRAI speeds around town. There are too many stops, too many obstacles, and a lot of the roads and sidewalks are just bad. Another interesting thing about biking in Ames is careless people who pull through the crossing part of stop signs. Normally, and I understand this, people like to get as close to the road as possible when turning. But, as a biker, I cannot stand people pulling through stop signs. It is dangerous for one. If I'm on the sidewalk, I am not required to stop, they are. But if they don't see me, they could just hit me. And they'd be responsible in court, I'm sure, but I'd probably be the one injured. Especially since I don't wear a helmet. I know, bad me.
And the second annoying thing is that even when I am in no danger of being hit, I cannot cross at the crosswalk when there is a car sitting on it. Say it's at a light or waiting to turn onto a busy street. They can't go. And depending on the sidewalk setup and how close they are to the traffic, neither can I. Sometimes I can ride in front of them. Glaring. Sometimes I walk my bike behind their car. Glaring more. And sometimes I really can't go at all. Nice people will try and rectify their mistake by backing up. Normally I wave at them because even though it was their bad for pulling through, they went out of their way to let me by.
Although I had one person do this and he almost backed into the guy behind him, who honked at him. I looked sheepish when I was waving. Today I came on a truck who was blocking me and he had a red light. I stopped my bike and gave them a look which I think was half consternation and half annoyed amusement. I can't think of how weird it must have been. But eventually, the passenger got the hint and told the driver, who then backed up for me. I saluted as I passed.
Like about tandem bikes. You know, bikes that seat two or more people. Generally, that's usually two and not over four, although I did see this thing in one town that seated 24 people and was as wide as a car. It also had a driver and a motor for hills. But, in general, tandem bikes are two people entering into a deal that is not unlike marriage, in my opinion. The one in the back says, "I trust you enough to let you drive." I can see good things about tandem bikes. You never lose your biking partner on RAGBRAI. You can share music. The person in back can just chill and doesn't have to steer at all.
That said, I have no intention of ever riding a tandem bike. Let someone else steer a bike I am riding? Are you crazy? And I certainly don't want to be responsible for steering for someone else. I like my choices and my mistakes to be just mine. And I hear a lot of couples can't do them. They buy them and sell them back. And it'd probably take a lot of communication. The pedals move the same for both spots. It was actually creepy watching some people operating in total sync. They'd stand together, drop together, legs going exactly the same.
But you'd probably get more power on hills.
What else did I think about on RAGBRAI? I should have written write after I got back. I can't remember anything specific longer than a week.
Oh yes, riding personalities. When I bike, it takes me a little bit to get warmed up, especially in the morning. I'll need like ten minutes or so of not going real fast. And then after that, I'm at my highest energy. In the beginning of RAGBRAI, I was often in front of Mom and Dad. And later in the day, I slow down a little. It becomes more traveling than charging. And on longer days, it then turns to survival.
Dad is like me, except he doesn't need to warm up, he can go fast right out of the gate. I often find myself behind him in the beginning. He too slows a bit as the day gets longer.
Mom... I'd say she is more of a sight-see-er in the beginning of RAGBRAI. She'd toodle along at her own pace, often the last of our party until we started getting near the end of the trail for the day. Dad and I would be slowing down at this point, but Mom gets what Dad refers to as the "horse to the barn" syndrome. She'll explain it as putting on her music or her "happy place" of biking speed or something like that, but the closer we get to being done, the faster Mom goes. One ride we did before RAGBRAI on the Raccoon River Valley Trail, a 72 mile loop, we were on the final path and Mom said she'd slow down as Dad had had enough of that ride. And then she turned her music on and was matching my 20-mile-per-hour tailwind speed. Dad accused her of speeding up.
Now, this ability is more than just the time of day. On the last day of RAGBRAI, we had a time limit. The course was officially closed at 15:00 and our bus was leaving at 14:30. Mom had an agenda. Dad and I were content to let her be first all day.
Back at home, I know why I can't go RAGBRAI speeds around town. There are too many stops, too many obstacles, and a lot of the roads and sidewalks are just bad. Another interesting thing about biking in Ames is careless people who pull through the crossing part of stop signs. Normally, and I understand this, people like to get as close to the road as possible when turning. But, as a biker, I cannot stand people pulling through stop signs. It is dangerous for one. If I'm on the sidewalk, I am not required to stop, they are. But if they don't see me, they could just hit me. And they'd be responsible in court, I'm sure, but I'd probably be the one injured. Especially since I don't wear a helmet. I know, bad me.
And the second annoying thing is that even when I am in no danger of being hit, I cannot cross at the crosswalk when there is a car sitting on it. Say it's at a light or waiting to turn onto a busy street. They can't go. And depending on the sidewalk setup and how close they are to the traffic, neither can I. Sometimes I can ride in front of them. Glaring. Sometimes I walk my bike behind their car. Glaring more. And sometimes I really can't go at all. Nice people will try and rectify their mistake by backing up. Normally I wave at them because even though it was their bad for pulling through, they went out of their way to let me by.
Although I had one person do this and he almost backed into the guy behind him, who honked at him. I looked sheepish when I was waving. Today I came on a truck who was blocking me and he had a red light. I stopped my bike and gave them a look which I think was half consternation and half annoyed amusement. I can't think of how weird it must have been. But eventually, the passenger got the hint and told the driver, who then backed up for me. I saluted as I passed.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Pens without stripes
I think the dreadlocks make me strange. I was at BAM, our Ames replacement for Borders, and I was buying a small journal. For inspiration. To not waste the money I just spent buying a small journal by not using it. Hey, we all play mind games.
Anyway, I was thinking about pens for my journal. A small pen would probably be not very fun to use. I like Zebra brand pens, but I only had one of them and I wanted something that I could keep with the journal. That I was going to use.
So I started looking around. The selection of pens from a bookstore was very... gimmicky. Most were cheap, several were stupid, and none of them had class. But I couldn't find Zebra pens. So I went up and asked if they had any.
"Oh... no, we don't have any of those."
"You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"
"No."
Another guy was like, "Hey, I think we used to have them!"
"Not pens shaped like an animal. Despite the name, they do not have stripes or fur."
"What, are they some kind of gimmik?"
"No, they're nice pens!"
So I stopped at Wal-Mart and found them. I got a tiny bottle of vodka too in Salty Watermelon, which tastes like a salted watermelon Jolly Rancher. I thought about keeping the cute bottle, but then I realized I didn't have anything better to put in it than vodka.
So, I found a journal, found pens to go with it, and everyone is done, right? Go home and eat supper?
For some reason, I turned and went back to BAM, pulled my bike up to the door, marched in, pulled out my pens, and said, "I am here to educate you!"
"Oh... I've seen those before!" said one of the guys.
"You guys were looking at me like I was crazy," I explained. "Looking for pens with stripes."
And then I left. That was weird.
Anyway, I was thinking about pens for my journal. A small pen would probably be not very fun to use. I like Zebra brand pens, but I only had one of them and I wanted something that I could keep with the journal. That I was going to use.
So I started looking around. The selection of pens from a bookstore was very... gimmicky. Most were cheap, several were stupid, and none of them had class. But I couldn't find Zebra pens. So I went up and asked if they had any.
"Oh... no, we don't have any of those."
"You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"
"No."
Another guy was like, "Hey, I think we used to have them!"
"Not pens shaped like an animal. Despite the name, they do not have stripes or fur."
"What, are they some kind of gimmik?"
"No, they're nice pens!"
So I stopped at Wal-Mart and found them. I got a tiny bottle of vodka too in Salty Watermelon, which tastes like a salted watermelon Jolly Rancher. I thought about keeping the cute bottle, but then I realized I didn't have anything better to put in it than vodka.
So, I found a journal, found pens to go with it, and everyone is done, right? Go home and eat supper?
For some reason, I turned and went back to BAM, pulled my bike up to the door, marched in, pulled out my pens, and said, "I am here to educate you!"
"Oh... I've seen those before!" said one of the guys.
"You guys were looking at me like I was crazy," I explained. "Looking for pens with stripes."
And then I left. That was weird.
Conviction from Twitter (Warning: Long and not very funny)
I wasn't much for Twitter in the beginning. I didn't follow or was followed by any interesting people, so I almost never updated or even looked at the thing. I only picked it up again because it seemed like that was the sole source of some information. I follow computer game companies and when a server goes down or news comes out, sometimes they update Twitter before Facebook. Actually, there seem to be far too many different social media things that I have to watch. One time they changed a game of mine and I couldn't find anything about it on Twitter or Facebook and when I contacted them, they said they had put it on their blog... which is getting a bit excessive, in my opinion.
But anyway, I picked up Twitter again partially to follow my favorite people in the Voice. This proved to be a mistake as they normally posted inane things and reTweeted fan Tweets that consisted of no more content than "Retweet me!" Twitter updates too fast to follow it consistently. And I hate seeing vapid retweets.
So I went back to avoiding Twitter. The character limit is also highly annoying to me. Why not just use Facebook? Then one evening David and I were out with Mom and Dad, and Dad asked me if I used it. I certainly can't quote what he said, but it was something along the lines of following what's important to me. So I started following publishers, authors, and writing advice accounts. And ditched almost every single person from the Voice.
Earlier this month, I read something that has stuck with me from one of those writing advice ones. "Anyone who says he wants to be a writer and isn’t writing, doesn’t. ERNEST HEMINGWAY"
Most convicting thing I've read all year.
Those who know me know I've been obsessed with stories since I was a little girl, many of them emanating from inside my own head. When I was really small, I would have Mom put my hair in pigtails and they would be floppy puppy dog ears. I am also remembered for being a horse and a cat frequently. I played out stories with my dolls and Beanie Babies, tried to put myself into my favorite stories. I distinctly remember trying to imagine myself along for the ride in the movie The Silver Chair, pretending my parents' bed was a cart and collecting provisions and bringing along several stuffed Dalmatians for company.
I played with dolls a lot longer than a lot of girls, partially because I wasn't raised around them. And then I stopped, somehow realizing that what I could imagine inside my head was bigger than what I could act out with Barbies.
For a while, I penned a few scenes now and then, but usually didn't have any more background information than what had suddenly occurred to me. Those characters often didn't even have names. I discovered in school that I could usually say what I meant to say and had a decent gift with writing essays.
And thinking back on my life, I can often point out what I was imagining and what stories I was writing in each event. My imaginary world lives side by side with my real one. I've always been somewhat escapist, seeking to liven up any dull situation by simply traveling out of it. I've been telling myself stories to put myself to sleep for a long time. If I'm in between stories, sometimes I have a really hard time sleeping. If I have a good story, I can fall asleep almost anywhere.
But I can't write. If you know me, you also know that my biggest fear in life is failure. It's practically a phobia for me, a crippling, encompassing, constant fear. And you can quote all those people about "you miss one-hundred percent of the shots you don't take," and how if you never try, you will never succeed, but I know in my head that if I never try, nobody can see me fall. And maybe that's better than succeeding.
I want to write. But I am so desperately afraid of ever putting words to paper. It's like when I tried drawing characters I made up. I stopped drawing at all because the only things I wanted to draw were people and once I drew them, the vision in my head was replaced by the failure on the paper. So too, I'm afraid that writing it will reduce it to the words and grammar and mistakes. That putting down will reduce it to being criticized, killing it while still young. I'm afraid I don't have what it takes. I don't have the technical skill to show people my vision. I don't have the vision or inspiration worth ever writing about. I know too many other people, good writers, and they will succeed before me. I use adverbs to modify "said."
So do I want to be a writer? Not like a career, full time job or anything like that. I want a part time job, a few volunteer gigs, hobbies, and maybe a family. I've always thought I wanted to be. The stories are my life. I'm addicted to stories, I crave them, I overdose on them. But I don't know if I can.
But anyway, I picked up Twitter again partially to follow my favorite people in the Voice. This proved to be a mistake as they normally posted inane things and reTweeted fan Tweets that consisted of no more content than "Retweet me!" Twitter updates too fast to follow it consistently. And I hate seeing vapid retweets.
So I went back to avoiding Twitter. The character limit is also highly annoying to me. Why not just use Facebook? Then one evening David and I were out with Mom and Dad, and Dad asked me if I used it. I certainly can't quote what he said, but it was something along the lines of following what's important to me. So I started following publishers, authors, and writing advice accounts. And ditched almost every single person from the Voice.
Earlier this month, I read something that has stuck with me from one of those writing advice ones. "Anyone who says he wants to be a writer and isn’t writing, doesn’t. ERNEST HEMINGWAY"
Most convicting thing I've read all year.
Those who know me know I've been obsessed with stories since I was a little girl, many of them emanating from inside my own head. When I was really small, I would have Mom put my hair in pigtails and they would be floppy puppy dog ears. I am also remembered for being a horse and a cat frequently. I played out stories with my dolls and Beanie Babies, tried to put myself into my favorite stories. I distinctly remember trying to imagine myself along for the ride in the movie The Silver Chair, pretending my parents' bed was a cart and collecting provisions and bringing along several stuffed Dalmatians for company.
I played with dolls a lot longer than a lot of girls, partially because I wasn't raised around them. And then I stopped, somehow realizing that what I could imagine inside my head was bigger than what I could act out with Barbies.
For a while, I penned a few scenes now and then, but usually didn't have any more background information than what had suddenly occurred to me. Those characters often didn't even have names. I discovered in school that I could usually say what I meant to say and had a decent gift with writing essays.
And thinking back on my life, I can often point out what I was imagining and what stories I was writing in each event. My imaginary world lives side by side with my real one. I've always been somewhat escapist, seeking to liven up any dull situation by simply traveling out of it. I've been telling myself stories to put myself to sleep for a long time. If I'm in between stories, sometimes I have a really hard time sleeping. If I have a good story, I can fall asleep almost anywhere.
But I can't write. If you know me, you also know that my biggest fear in life is failure. It's practically a phobia for me, a crippling, encompassing, constant fear. And you can quote all those people about "you miss one-hundred percent of the shots you don't take," and how if you never try, you will never succeed, but I know in my head that if I never try, nobody can see me fall. And maybe that's better than succeeding.
I want to write. But I am so desperately afraid of ever putting words to paper. It's like when I tried drawing characters I made up. I stopped drawing at all because the only things I wanted to draw were people and once I drew them, the vision in my head was replaced by the failure on the paper. So too, I'm afraid that writing it will reduce it to the words and grammar and mistakes. That putting down will reduce it to being criticized, killing it while still young. I'm afraid I don't have what it takes. I don't have the technical skill to show people my vision. I don't have the vision or inspiration worth ever writing about. I know too many other people, good writers, and they will succeed before me. I use adverbs to modify "said."
So do I want to be a writer? Not like a career, full time job or anything like that. I want a part time job, a few volunteer gigs, hobbies, and maybe a family. I've always thought I wanted to be. The stories are my life. I'm addicted to stories, I crave them, I overdose on them. But I don't know if I can.
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