Sunday, November 30, 2014
Friday, November 28, 2014
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Then inspiration struck.
And while I am OK with losing (I do it every day in one way or another) it turns out I want to be a winner this year. I want to WIN. Currently, I have twelve thousand words to write in the next three days. Some of you might argue and say there are four, but November 30th is, in fact, my birthday, so I will actually be eating cake on that day.
But surely I can eat cake and write?
No, I can't. I will only be eating cake on that day. End of argument.
So, yeah, twelve thousand words to write in three days, which might not seem like a lot. I mean, who can't write four thousand words a day and have a full time job, and sleep, and eat, and knit all the Christmas things? I know this past week has been a bit of a dip in quality here on the blog, but I promise it isn't because I don't love you. Actually, just between the two of us, I am so tired of blogging. This whole writing a blog every day thing has turned out to be quite an experience. I would love to tell you it's been an amazing experience, but for the most part it has become a burden, but I am determined. Even though I have already failed.
Failed I say?
Yes, failed. I went through to count out the blogs I've done and apparently I missed three in August, which I have no idea how that happened. I don't foresee myself writing enough blogs to catch up, so I've failed the blogging challenge, which is why I am more determined to win the NANO.
The NANO must be won. For no other reason than my own damn goals.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Name calling has always rolled right off me. I've never cared. I'm more likely to be bothered by one of my friends being insulted than myself. The truth is, I have three brothers and they trolled me far worse than anyone I've met on the world wide web. They were ruthless.
So, today was a bit of a weird one because I actually got offended. Someone said something to me that insulted me. Crazy, right? Trust me, I was just as taken aback as the next person. So, what was it? What could have possibly been said to make me feel horrified and wounded at the same time?
Well, for the first time in my life, I was called homophobic.
And I was sickened because it's a word I don't want to have any association with.
The situation was only made worse by the fact it came completely out of left field, had nothing to do with the conversation at hand, and was obviously said without any proof to back it up. Taking into consideration those points, I probably shouldn't have been bothered. But I was.
Apparently people can think whatever they want of me, as long as it doesn't contradict my very liberal views. Call me funny. cute, ugly, fat, strange, smart, dumb, bitchy, slutty ... whatever, but homophobic? Hell no! It gutted me. Until a text from a friend explained how ridiculous it was - he said it was like someone saying the sky is purple. Perspective: sometimes best delivered by someone else, especially if you're about to light the internet on fire.
Now, I'm not going to tell you why I'm not homophobic because that's pointless. It's so clearly not the way I think that it doesn't even deserve my well-formed rebuttal and anyone who has brushed shoulders with me knows I'm all about the love. So, I won't waste my precious breath defending myself. What I do want to touch on is how dangerous it is to casually accuse someone of homophobia (or racism, sexism, or any form of bigotry), asides from the obvious of not knowing the person or understanding the relationships they cultivate and hold dear.
It's a show stopper, though, isn't it? When you toss it on the table, it makes people uncomfortable and the person it's directed at might back peddle or tuck tail and run. Hopefully, right? Because it's taboo for people to question the motivation of the accuser, isn't it? To be called homophobic only to inquire over the reasoning behind it is basically setting yourself up for a lynch mob. The problem with treating bigotry like a punchline to a joke is that it desensitizes the public and turns it into something people just shrug their shoulders over, not something they get riled up about. It's like calling wolf, you can only do it so many times before people don't care anymore.
And that's why it is dangerous to accuse without evidence. It stops the important conversations peoole are having about equality and civil rights, breaking down the debate and momentum. In the end hot headedness and ignorance is damaging, no matter what side it is coming from.
In conclusion, call me names if you must, but be aware it might not garner the results you hoped for. Be prepared for any knee jerk reaction to deliver a blow to the cause you're passionate about. Speak wisely. Choose words carefully. And most importantly, don't be an ignoramus.
Monday, November 24, 2014
There is something peaceful about driving at night. And liberating. The rainslicked road. Hugging the curves. No one on the street. Headlights flashing over trees and ocean. Music blasting songs from your youth. Fog rolling in.
For a brief moment, you consider driving forever, starting a wild new adventure.
Then you remember you have to work in the morning.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Well, I turned to the intersnacks to tell me if Mr. Pally has been in any movies or such, and lo and behold, he's leaving The Mindy Project. How disappointing. His character and squeezable face has made the show so much better. Not gonna lie, kinda made me pout for awhile. I'd start a petition asking him not to leave, but I highly doubt it'd do any good and, as you all know, I'm pretty damn lazy.
Friday, November 21, 2014
This new novel is sort of based off of time travel. Kind of, but not really. No one actually goes to a different time or place, but there are ripples into the future. I'd explain it all to you, but you should just wait until it's published. (wink-wink)
Anyhow, part of the novel, the good part, takes place in the nineties. (The bad part takes place in 2013) The main character has an affection for music and I've been drawing inspiration from the hits of my youth. Just between us, I totally remember the lyrics to all the songs I loved as a kid. My tastes were fairly broad, my main character's isn't. He seems to have a problem with R&B. What I have been partaking in is a lot of grunge and punk stuff, and I must say, this stuff is awesome. The Pixies, Nirvana, Rancid, Green Day, Hole, The Cranberries, Flaming Lips ... hell, I've been singing Better Man by Pearl Jam in my head all morning and don't even mind. (Peal Jam being a band I've never really liked. At all.)
The truth is, I love all kinds of music, but there is something about the nineties that makes me incredibly happy. Nostalgia is a funny thing. But as I am sitting there, hammering out a chapter from my novel, I am singing along to all these songs I kind of forgot about. Not truly, I mean, obviously they've just been on the back burner simmering away because I remember every single word, but I think I overlook how awesome the nineties were.
You'd think because I grew up in that era I'd be able to paint a vivid picture of it, except I've had to do a fair bit of research. From computers to clothing and right on to world events, I have a hundred tabs open at once. (A bit of a hyperbole). But each detail I manage to filter in makes me giddy. I've dressed my characters in Doc Martens and made them drive a Volkswagen Cabrio, they've gone to the Kennel Club and smoked indoors, their computers strain the eyes and use dial up to connect to the internet, and so much cocaine has been snorted that even my nose feels raw.
Conclusion? This is fun. I think the last time I've had this much fun writing a book was when Billie was delivering revenge on the open sea.
Honestly, you wouldn't believe what pops into my head, from shows to clothes and bands I have no idea whatever happened to them. (Like how the Sneaker Pimps' song 6 Underground just randomly came to mind) It's weird what snaps back to you when you start thinking about it. Tomorrow I will be wearing a baby doll dress, Sketchers, way too much black eye makeup, outlining my lips with brown eye pencil, using concealer as lipstick, and wearing a floppy hat with a huge flower on it. Don't worry, I won't go so far as to bantu knots. Never.
And I hop you will be pleased to know one of my characters does in fact have angel wings tattooed on her back. For authenticity, of course.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
How many pages does that work out to be?
Around 33 - or some such number.
According to my NANO stats, which are certainly not optimistic, I will be completed around December 14th.
What does this mean?
Well, it means I will be a loser. I will have lost.
I think this is the point where I become discouraged.
Eh, fuck it. Being discourage won't get me anywhere.
Watch me as I play catch up. I can do it. Don't doubt me. Even more, I won't doubt myself.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Friday, November 14, 2014
Thursday, November 13, 2014
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
I want to know if the people I call friends don't agree with gay marriage or think climate change is a myth. Not just because it will allow me insight into who they are as people, but I will understand why our friendship is ultimately doomed. But today is Wordy Wednesday, so why I am I telling you all this? Well, you know how I love my tie ins ...
The word: Liberal
For what doesn't seem like a very exciting or interesting word it sure can whip someone into a frenzy and cause problems. There are those who sneer at the mere mention of someone being liberal, like it's a very bad, dirty thing. All I can assume is the definition has actually gotten lost in the twisted world of politics.
My coworker and I are liberal. As we talked, we exchanged ideas. We discussed. I talked about my thoughts on every single person and animal being interconnected and read her a short story I stumbled across on the intersnacks called The Universe Is Our Egg. She told me about her interest in Buddhism, how she finds religions interesting, and actually enjoys listening to people talk about their faith. We agreed faith is a good thing. A great thing. How it seems to be an essential component of existing in this world, which can be so daunting and cruel, so callous and cold.
There was talk of what we find disconcerting about religion. All the judgement. How people push their beliefs on others. The close-mindedness and unwillingness to accept others' thoughts and opinions. Following religious practices without asking questions. Not being able to listen to what another person has to say.
To be liberal is to accept differing opinions and ways of behaving. To be sympathetic. Compassionate. To try to understand others. You don't have to agree with what others think and feel, you don't have to embrace their morals or beliefs, but you are receptive to what they have to say. Being liberal is having your own thoughts and ideas but still accepting other people have theirs too. If you ask me, the world could use a whole lot more tolerance.
So, I believe we are one and that it is only with love that we should move. What do you believe?
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
It doesn't matter if you agree with war or the motivations behind the people governing the soldiers, one must always pay respect to those who have lost their lives. Those who have fought and experienced the terror of war, only to die. Who enlisted to protect their country and our freedoms and never made it back to enjoy their own country and freedoms.
One must always remember those who came back wounded, physically or mentally. Who struggled daily with what they saw or did. And once again fought, this time on homeland, to overcome the terrors of war again and find who they are and how to adjust in the country they loved, the place they called home. To remember those who managed to figure it out and the ones who didn't. The ones who couldn't find their way back through the darkness and perished.
And one must give thanks to those who are deployed now. Who are still enlisting in the face of all this uncertainty because they want to serve their country. To those overseas in terrifying situations. The ones who understand they might not make it home and know that is part of the job description. All the men and women waiting to get home to their wives and children and pets.
We must always spare a moment for those who have enlisted, are enlisted and will enlist. If not for them, we'd all be forced to go. And I can tell you one thing, I don't want to.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Here are my loved ones. My friends. Always someone with open arms and open doors. There is laughter and memories, a bed and food. Someone to say they miss me.
I never long for the city, it's too fast and mean for me. But I dream of never having to excuse myself, explain my words, or be reasonable. Everything is as it is. And I miss just being who I am in the presence of great people, the ones I love.
And still I miss my boys and the island, the home in the bay and my bed.
Is it possible to have two homes? Or more?
Sunday, November 9, 2014
The thing is, we like wasting time. Sure, we might feel bad about it later, but for the most part, life seems to be about wasting time. In fact, wasting time is sort of subjective. It's not like the majority of us are trying to figure out a cure for Cancer or working towards equal rights for everyone everywhere, even though most of us want those things. (Except the jerks, of course. They don't want any good things to happen.)
Because I've been wasting time for so long, or enjoying life as I like to call it, I have become an extraordinary time waster. If you have a copious amount of time on your hands and need to get through a couple hours, I have one website to occupy you for all eternity. Unlike YouTube and IMDB (two sites I occasionally get lost in a vortex of information), this new site will not only amuse but inform you, and for some strange reason, I don't know anyone who uses it, except me.
Don't think I discovered this treasure, though. It's super popular, just not with West Coast Canadians, apparently.
Welcome to ODDEE!
Think of Oddee as an odd little gathering place for weirdos who like to make lists. That's right, lists. This site is filled to the brim with lists of strange things, like 20 Creeptastic Horror Movie Tattoos and 12 Amazing Real People Who Look Like Cartoons. It has lists for the celebrity enthusiast (10 Most Extreme Method Actors), world traveller (15 Breathtaking Views From Amazing Rooms), nature lover (10 Geological Wonders You Don't Know) and even the science minded (9 Bizarre Pieces of Medical Advice That Actually Work).
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Besides, a little hate might get you through the next thirty-seven thousand and five hundred words. By my calculations, which could be wrong, except I used a calculator, so they aren't, you have penned a mighty twelve thousand and five hundred words.
Congratulations. You aren't even halfway there.
Just between the two of us, I'm relatively happy with the results I'm seeing. It's been a bit stressful because I'm juggling two plot lines and hoping they seamlessly come together in the end, but for the most part the words are coming. A miracle really. It's been a long time since I've gotten past ten thousand words. The main issue I see cropping up already is the interactions between my male and female lead. For one, I'm concerned I am giving away too much up front. Another, the love crap feels so contrived. Seriously. My cynical eyes are rolling every time I write a kiss or stroke or snuggle.
As for advice, everyone writes differently, but just don't get distracted. Shut down Facebook. Put your phone in another room. Don't write hungry. Have water on hand. Sit in a comfortable chair. Plug into music. Reiterate to everyone you live with beforehand that you writing and do not want to be disturbed. Set a goal. And use write or die.
If that all fails, get someone else to write the book for you.
So, cheers. Here's to ten thousand more. No worries. I got this.
Friday, November 7, 2014
- Posting incoherent status updates and comments on your posts - things you imagine are sentences but are so backwards and riddled with spelling errors you have no idea what they mean
- Asking for help with how to use Facebook - like what a share is
- Using the Facebook status as a search engine
- Formulating opinions about things they can't possibly understand or know anything about
- Sharing sexist, racist or homophobic memes they don't understand
- Using netspeak when they don't know what it means
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Now, for those who don't know, Songza is a live streaming website that has a plethora of playlists for all sorts of occasions, including mooning over a sparkly vampire and long sorrowful road trips. After much shuffling and listening, I've come up with five playlists for five moods I find myself in all the time. And here we go:
The Hey, Baby, Sing Me To Sleep Mood
This is when you're so tired, like every last inch of your godforsaken body has surrendered to the battle of life. You are shutting down. The mere thought of getting up to brush your teeth is too much to handle and the idea of going out makes you want to weep into the plushness of your pillow. The only remedy for this sort of weariness is sleep, deep, peaceful, slightly sad sleep, and you can get there by indulging in Mr. Sandman. This beautiful compilation will send you into slumber with the soft gentle coos of the most popular hits and artists from the 50's and 60's. Melancholic and reassuring, this is one of the most comforting mixes I have ever indulged in.
Promise me you will never listen to this playlist when you're at work.
Anyone born around the same time as me will understand the importance of a fabulous mixed tape. We used to record songs off the radio on tape cassettes and listen to them on repeat for weeks. Sure, a lot of us don't want to admit that we loved the pop we grew up with. Not now. Not when people are so quick to turn their nose up to the Backstreet Boys and Rhianna, but it doesn't matter. We all want something to shake are butts to. We all want our guilty pleasures in one epic playlist. Well, lucky for us, it's on Songza and it's called Get Pumped: Pop Anthems. These are the songs from those tapes we made on our bedroom floors. These are the songs that will take you back to the days of slouch socks and snap bracelets. These are the songs you'll sing at the top of your lungs as you're cleaning your house and slip into the waters of nostalgia.
Good music is all about the past. The past past. Back in your parents' days. When Bowie rocked the air waves and Fleetwood Mac wasn't considered 'classic rock' but simply ROCK. Bands these day emulate those we cherish from our youth, and our parents' youth. You might have heard these as your mother made dinner or sitting in the back of your Daddy's Toyota Tercel. When all you want is a foot-stomping, hand-clapping good time put on Hang Out Rock and prepare to bob your head and remember the days when you thought summer would last forever and all you wanted was to kiss the stars.
Jump Out Of Bed
Some days we need a boost, a pick me up, someone to drag us out of bed and dance us around our living room. A great playlist can be the difference from a meh morning to a magnificent one. Wake Up Smiling will do exactly what it sounds. Sit up.Shake your booty. Shower. And face the day head on. You can do it. You can tackle this. Might as well get in touch with your soul roots while you're at it. Disco out your door. Drum on the wheel. Let the wind whip your hair. Because some days, you need that extra push to get the day underway.
The Rain Is Tapping On My Window
You want moody. You want gloom. You want songs to stroke your disenchantment. Well, you've found it in the stellar list called Brooding Over Biters With Rick Grimes. On any given rainy night, when the storm of melancholy is brewing, you will come here, to this playlist and you will celebrate the fact someone took the time to put together this ruminative mix. I can't sing the praise of this one enough. It soothes my sad, sad soul.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
It's there, if you look. The glimmer in gloom. Today we celebrate words, but why not embrace emotions as well.
The Word: Dreary
Dull. Dark. And Dismal. The three 'D's.
I find comfort in the fog, in the ominous clouds rolling in to blanket the sky, and the unrelenting rain pounding down on us, trying so desperately to wash our sins away. When I think of the word dreary, it reminds me of Edgar Allan Poe and Edward Gorey, of Tim Burton and Lenore, of the dark and macabre.
Dreary is the smell of the forest after rainfall. The palette of greys throughout the month of October. Not wanting to get out of bed. Sighing wearily. Listening to Nick Cave and Tom Waits. Drinking tea. Reading H.P Lovecraft and Clive Barker. Watching Life Is Beautiful and American Beauty. Falling in love with dilapidated buildings. Walking barefoot in the mud. Not wearing a hood in the rain. Smiling at the sound of thunder. And letting the tears fall without worrying about what they mean.
Dreary is finding the beauty in the darkness.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Sure, there are people out there who know of my undying love for Bruce Springsteen, are privy to the greedy way I gobbled up the Harry Potter series, find it amusing I think I'd survive in A Game of Thrones, and understand I would live in Stars Hollow and be BFFs with the Gilmore Girls if at all possible. In truth, there are a fair share of celebrity dreamboats I adore, examples being Ryan Gosling (the man does no wrong), Tom Waits (what can I say, I've always had a thing for older men), Emma Stone (isn't she the cutest ever?) and my new found lust for Chris Hemsworth (the fallout of having one steamy dream of Thor and his mighty hammer). That being said, I totally toe the line of rationality and haven't ever allowed myself to become so preoccupied with these people that I base my entire existence around them. Like, I don't feel it my duty to pass judgement on the choices they make or how they live their lives. In fact, I don't even care what they are up to, who they are dating, and what they are wearing.
Seems weird mentioning that, right? I mean, shouldn't not being a stalker be a given? After all, who possibly has time to follow anyone around, whether it is on the internet or in real life? Why would anyone be so emotionally invested in a particular celebrity that they haven't even met or held a conversation with?
Well, you might not be privy to what fandom can degrade into. I use the word degrade because people can get down right scary and, to be honest, disgusting when they love something so hard. I like to call it having the fancrazies. A terrifying condition wherein people who shouldn't be allowed on the internet become so obsessed they jump off the cliff of insanity and free fall to the jagged rocks of irrational and drown in the waters of creepiness.
Don't get me wrong, there are amazing fans out there, but in the past couple months I've witnessed disturbing behaviour carried out in the name of fandom. If you are concerned you might be experiencing the fancrazies, I have outlined a few surefire signs that you may actually be Captain of the Crazies, and not just playing for the team.
Reality Vs. Fiction
It is one thing to think about the magical world of Harry Potter and silently wish it was real so you could attend Hogwarts, it's another thing to forget it is fiction and buy a ticket to London. It's one thing to crush on a sparkly fictional vampire, it's another to cry yourself to sleep at night because the new guy in school doesn't have amber coloured eyes. It is one thing to wonder what's going to happen in the next Game Of Thrones book, it's another to daydream about what Jon Snow is doing on the wall right this very minute.
If you are having trouble distinguishing reality from fiction, then you might be the Captain of the Crazies
Celebrities are celebrities, which mean they exist in the public eye. Having a fleeting opinion about an outfit being worn on the red carpet or a new hairstyle is perfectly normal - we all do it. You don't have to like every suit or piece of jewellery your celebrity favourites are wearing. But the truth is, your opinion doesn't matter. These famous people should be able to live their lives and make their own decisions, unswayed by what you think. While you might have a thought on their wardrobe or makeup, you really don't need to share it. In fact, if it isn't nice, how about you don't? You aren't a fan if you are bashing their clothing and hair - or even more horrifying, when you rip them apart physically - from their hairlines to their breast size, from their body types to their teeth. You are not their stylist. Even more, you are not Tyra and they are not here for you to judge them.
If you are overwhelmed with the desire to be catty and critique celebrities, then you could be the Captain of the Crazies.
What Personal Life?
There are fans who think it their business to know every personal detail of a celebrities life. Even worse is the blatant lack of respect for these actors, actresses and musicians lives, there are fans who take it upon themselves to name call and harass not only the people they supposedly love, but the ones they are friends with, or (God forbid) dating. It's one of the most confounding parts of fandom - how these crazy fans (who are so very infatuated with the series, book or actors) think it is their right to not only disapprove of the life decisions these actors and actresses make, but to stalk and bash anyone with any sort of relationship with them.
If for some strange and inexplicable reason you find yourself tweeting your crushes rumoured girlfriend, the person he or she was seen with at a gala or ball or party, and take it upon yourself to bash said person mercilessly, then you have contracted the fancrazies and need to have your intersnacks taken away until you can purge the lunacy from your being.
Let's say not being able to distinguish fiction from reality, invading someone's personal life, and criticizing someone's every move and decision isn't enough to convince someone that they are in fact treading in the dark waters of fandom, perpetrating the seedy underbelly of obsessive love, then here's one more.
Slut-shaming. Name calling. Body-shaming. Stalking. Bullying. None of these terms are very nice, are they? In fact, most people should get their back up if accused of these behaviours. There is no way any of these horrible things should be associated with being a fan, right? If you love something, then aren't you supposed to celebrate it? Let it blossom. Encourage it. And enjoy it. Yes, but people become obsessive. They stop thinking clearly. Eventually, they start doing things they might not normally do, or they allow the anonymity of the internet go to their head and think what they say means nothing, or they are allowed to be rude and mean because it's the first amendment, right? Freedom of speech and all that jazz.
You can't simply say whatever you damn well please. Or at least you shouldn't. It is unacceptable to spread such hatred, to be cruel and pass judgement. It's ignorance to think your words mean nothing when they are the sword that cuts the deepest. Maybe people feel they have a right to be horrible. That celebrities choose to be famous, put themselves in the limelight, and deserve to be judged and mistreated.
If you find yourself passing judgement, calling someone not classy for the company they keep or a skank because of a costume they wore, then you are being mean and slut shaming. If you are complaining about someone's body, too skinny or too fat, then you are body shaming. If you are tearing apart someone's features, from their crooked teeth to their big forehead, small hands to their large feet, even mocking their clothing, you are bullying. Next time you are going to pass judgement, to be mean or bully, slut shame or ridicule, do everyone a favour and look in the mirror before you send your tweet or post your comment and blog. Before you update your status, take a good long hard look at yourself and make sure you are perfect. And, if on the off chance, you find you are perfect, do me a personal favour and keep your negativity and hatred to yourself.
Just between us, I don't understand any of this. It's frustrating to think this is how people treat the things (and people) they supposedly love. If you want to obsess and be a fan, by all means - do it, but do it with love and a wee bit of respect.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Saturday, November 1, 2014
There may have been a smidgen of sarcasm in the first paragraph.
Really, though, I struggle with whether I am going to participate. I want to, I really do. But this year isn't really a writing one. It's been a huge hiccup of creativity. Nothing is running smoothly. In fact, every single word I turn out feels forced and contrived. I look at them and think, "Well, aren't you the ugliest of sentences ever."
There are pros to NANO.
But I'm having troubles coming up with them.
Today I signed into my account, you know - on the off chance I decide to participate - and I had 104 messages. We will put that in the CON column.
What do you think? Are you NANOing this year? Should I NANO with you?
In other news, it's my birthday month!