Okay, I'm late posting my final blog. I hope it won't count too much against me, however, since I have posted 13 blogs, prior to this one. ;)
Why am I late? Yesterday was my sister's birthday. She had to work, however. Her husband also had to work: this is his Reserve weekend. Their son had a baseball tournament out of town which they both had to miss, and he had to miss his mom's birthday. Their eldest daughter can't be depended on to watch the two youngest girls, so my Saturday was completely taken up with babysitting. When I say completely, I'm not joking. I actually stayed the night because it was so late by the time they got home from work, we had dinner, did a bit of socializing with friends, had cake, and...well. It was late. Since I'm also babysitting today, I thought I'd also save myself the gas of going home at midnight just to be back by 7am. And I'd get to sleep longer. :)
I'm not only late posting this final blog, but I was late getting to my sister's yesterday to start my weekend babysitting gig. I've noticed that I have an odd tendency to be late to family things, but early or on time for anything I'm getting paid for. Odd, isn't it? Offer me money, and I can get up at any time required and be on time. If it's a family function, if it's in the morning, I'm going to be late.
I would dwell more on being late, but I have two girls tussling around my house and a brother looking very sour about the whole thing. We have to get to Sam's, then get to the park for some playtime before Marissa has to be at baseball . And the munchkins are nagging to get on the road...
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Old gods and mythology
Lately I've been reading the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan. It's quite entertaining, and a great series for pre-teens and early teens. It has action, adventure, and a healthy dose of mythology. Enough to spark curiosity and tempt youngsters down the path of more classical reading.
I've always had a passing interest in mythology. Enough to think, "I want to learn more," but not enough to actually devote myself to learning more. I think I really want to, though. The problem is: how? Where do you start? There are so many books out there, but most of them assume that a Mythology 101 course has been completed. Mythology isn't like a television series, where you can start watching it in season four and by the end of that season, pretty much know the storyline and how everything relates. At least, not in my linear mind!
I like timelines. I like starting with the first book in the series. I like knowing the background. I like 'this leads to this, then led to that, then leads to this...' Tell me the story in order so I can follow it.
Mythology, however, doesn't really care about time. Mythology is a long, convoluted, complex story that explained the world to folks who didn't have the means of understanding it any other way. But don't you wonder, sometimes, if there's more to it than that? What if those gods did exist? Who's to say they didn't? Surely even all those thousands of years ago people needed more proof of godly existence than the fact that grapes grew and the sun rose?
And why did belief in these old gods and goddesses started to fade to nothing? No one hears of anyone worshiping Zeus or Poseidon anymore. Aphrodite has no follows; Apollo no brides. What happened to them?
Everyone knows the name of Hercules. They know he's the son of Zeus and a mortal woman. But what were his labors? What are his stories? I don't know them. I think I should.
Who is Perseus? Theseus? Jason? The Hesperides? Atlas, Kronos, Oceanus? The other Titans? Where did they come from, and where did they go?
And now I'm reminded of a song, one of my favorites, although it always makes me sad:
"Last Mourner"
written and performed by Heather Alexander
In a clearing stands the ruins and remains of a temple
That once stood as proud as the sky.
On the wind blows the bittersweet sound of lost love.
On my gown flow the tears that I cry.
Through ages you waited for your children to come home,
And frolic again, as long ago.
But with time and with distance there comes independence,
Whereas you did not conceive that we would grow.
No more will we drink the sacramental wine.
No more will we light the sacred fires.
For ye only I am the last who shall mourn you,
And the loss of the music lyre.
My spirit rode forward on the wings of love and glory,
But duty rent the passion from me.
Tis true I betrayed you, and my own heart with you.
But my kind could not bow down; we must live free.
No more will we sacrifice the land to you.
No more will we gather laurel leaves.
For ye only I am the last who shall mourn you,
And forever the one I will grieve.
In a clearing stands the ruins and remains of a temple
That once stood as proud as the sky.
On the wind blows the bittersweet sound of Mount Olympus,
And the gods who taught the human soul to fly.
I've always had a passing interest in mythology. Enough to think, "I want to learn more," but not enough to actually devote myself to learning more. I think I really want to, though. The problem is: how? Where do you start? There are so many books out there, but most of them assume that a Mythology 101 course has been completed. Mythology isn't like a television series, where you can start watching it in season four and by the end of that season, pretty much know the storyline and how everything relates. At least, not in my linear mind!
I like timelines. I like starting with the first book in the series. I like knowing the background. I like 'this leads to this, then led to that, then leads to this...' Tell me the story in order so I can follow it.
Mythology, however, doesn't really care about time. Mythology is a long, convoluted, complex story that explained the world to folks who didn't have the means of understanding it any other way. But don't you wonder, sometimes, if there's more to it than that? What if those gods did exist? Who's to say they didn't? Surely even all those thousands of years ago people needed more proof of godly existence than the fact that grapes grew and the sun rose?
And why did belief in these old gods and goddesses started to fade to nothing? No one hears of anyone worshiping Zeus or Poseidon anymore. Aphrodite has no follows; Apollo no brides. What happened to them?
Everyone knows the name of Hercules. They know he's the son of Zeus and a mortal woman. But what were his labors? What are his stories? I don't know them. I think I should.
Who is Perseus? Theseus? Jason? The Hesperides? Atlas, Kronos, Oceanus? The other Titans? Where did they come from, and where did they go?
And now I'm reminded of a song, one of my favorites, although it always makes me sad:
"Last Mourner"
written and performed by Heather Alexander
In a clearing stands the ruins and remains of a temple
That once stood as proud as the sky.
On the wind blows the bittersweet sound of lost love.
On my gown flow the tears that I cry.
Through ages you waited for your children to come home,
And frolic again, as long ago.
But with time and with distance there comes independence,
Whereas you did not conceive that we would grow.
No more will we drink the sacramental wine.
No more will we light the sacred fires.
For ye only I am the last who shall mourn you,
And the loss of the music lyre.
My spirit rode forward on the wings of love and glory,
But duty rent the passion from me.
Tis true I betrayed you, and my own heart with you.
But my kind could not bow down; we must live free.
No more will we sacrifice the land to you.
No more will we gather laurel leaves.
For ye only I am the last who shall mourn you,
And forever the one I will grieve.
In a clearing stands the ruins and remains of a temple
That once stood as proud as the sky.
On the wind blows the bittersweet sound of Mount Olympus,
And the gods who taught the human soul to fly.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Guardian angels working overtime...
Today started out early. My nephew and my niece both had baseball games. Zach's was at 8am at Tinsley Park. Marissa's was at 9:30am at a different, but nearby park. Zach had his second game at 11:30am. My sister had to work today, and my brother in law is an assistant coach for Zach's team. So I was up and out early to watch a bit of his first game, then I took Marissa to her scrimmage. Then back to watch Zach's second game. My sister decided to cook out tonight, and my brother came over after work. All three of us were together when we got the call.
My parents and my younger sister live in northeast AR/southeast MO, within about 10 miles of each other. My sister had a fight with her husband this afternoon, and drove off in a fit of anger. She went too fast down gravel roads, in a town so small that they've only got one paved road. Okay, that might be an exaggeration. Or not. But that's how it's been described to me.
Never drive when you are angry. NEVER. My sister (Beth) spun out and flipped her car multiple times. It took thirty minutes for her to be extracted. She was flown to the nearest trauma hospital, in Cape Girardeau, MO. That's about 97 miles from Cooter, MO, where she lives. She's now en route to Barnes*Jewish Hospital in St. Louis, which is a level 1 trauma hospital.
She has a grade 1 liver laceration. Translation: a small cut on her liver that will heal just fine on its own.
She has a laceration on her head that required 12 staples. Because of that, they're keeping her on minimal painkillers. They have to monitor her and make sure there are no brain injuries that take time to present.
She has numerous scrapes and contusions.
Those are the minor injuries.
She also has multiple fractures on her pelvis, which is why she's being relocated to Barnes*Jewish. Apparently no one likes messing with the pelvis. She has an acetabellum fracture. That's apparently a fracture on the ball that goes into the pelvis. She has several thoracic compression fractures, in T8, T10, and T12. She also has a burst fracture at L5, and it's impinging on her spinal cord.
Good news: she's neurologically intact, hemodynamically stable, and breathing on her own. What that means is she's not gushing blood from anywhere and she can move her fingers and toes. But the trauma surgeon has kept her in the C-Collar and on the backboard until she can be taken in for surgery on that burst fracture and get those bones away from her spinal cord.
By all rights, my sister should be dead. It's a miracle that she's not. That girl has always had some pretty powerful guardian angels watching over her.
It's going to be a very long time before she's healed. Our older sister, Katie, is a nurse practitioner. She's the one who lives here. She says that Beth will be in the hospital for several weeks, and probably be in a wheelchair for a while after she's released.
My dad is scheduled to have knee replacement surgery this week. It's going to be in Memphis. Beth will still be in St. Louis. My poor mother needs a clone.
I think I'm a little in shock still. My mom told Katie not to call our aunts and uncles. That bothered me a lot. I struggled with it for several hours...then considered how I'd feel if something happened to any of my nieces, or either of my nephews. I called my aunts and uncle on my dad's side of the family. I called my mom's brother. The rest of her side of the family are nut jobs. I'll let me uncle figure out when to tell my grandparents. Grandpa just came home from the hospital this week, so his health is fragile enough.
I want to go home. I want to spend this week with my family, so my mom won't feel like she's abandoning her husband, or her daughter. I want to see my sister alive. I can't go, though. I don't have vacation time or pay at work. I don't have money to make up for the lost time at work. The only thing I DO have is Spring Break from school.
Maybe I'll do a hell-or-high-water trip home next weekend, for Easter. I have a day off work, whether I want it or not.
I don't suppose I really need to blog about this, but I need to write it out. I need to work through the shock and fear. I need to see, in black and white, the words that she's going to be fine.
I want to send thank you cards to the paramedics who got her out. If they'd been less skilled, less careful, she'd be paralyzed. I want to thank the old woman who called in the accident and stayed with my sister until the paramedics arrived.
Guardian angels sometimes are as human as you and me.
My parents and my younger sister live in northeast AR/southeast MO, within about 10 miles of each other. My sister had a fight with her husband this afternoon, and drove off in a fit of anger. She went too fast down gravel roads, in a town so small that they've only got one paved road. Okay, that might be an exaggeration. Or not. But that's how it's been described to me.
Never drive when you are angry. NEVER. My sister (Beth) spun out and flipped her car multiple times. It took thirty minutes for her to be extracted. She was flown to the nearest trauma hospital, in Cape Girardeau, MO. That's about 97 miles from Cooter, MO, where she lives. She's now en route to Barnes*Jewish Hospital in St. Louis, which is a level 1 trauma hospital.
She has a grade 1 liver laceration. Translation: a small cut on her liver that will heal just fine on its own.
She has a laceration on her head that required 12 staples. Because of that, they're keeping her on minimal painkillers. They have to monitor her and make sure there are no brain injuries that take time to present.
She has numerous scrapes and contusions.
Those are the minor injuries.
She also has multiple fractures on her pelvis, which is why she's being relocated to Barnes*Jewish. Apparently no one likes messing with the pelvis. She has an acetabellum fracture. That's apparently a fracture on the ball that goes into the pelvis. She has several thoracic compression fractures, in T8, T10, and T12. She also has a burst fracture at L5, and it's impinging on her spinal cord.
Good news: she's neurologically intact, hemodynamically stable, and breathing on her own. What that means is she's not gushing blood from anywhere and she can move her fingers and toes. But the trauma surgeon has kept her in the C-Collar and on the backboard until she can be taken in for surgery on that burst fracture and get those bones away from her spinal cord.
By all rights, my sister should be dead. It's a miracle that she's not. That girl has always had some pretty powerful guardian angels watching over her.
It's going to be a very long time before she's healed. Our older sister, Katie, is a nurse practitioner. She's the one who lives here. She says that Beth will be in the hospital for several weeks, and probably be in a wheelchair for a while after she's released.
My dad is scheduled to have knee replacement surgery this week. It's going to be in Memphis. Beth will still be in St. Louis. My poor mother needs a clone.
I think I'm a little in shock still. My mom told Katie not to call our aunts and uncles. That bothered me a lot. I struggled with it for several hours...then considered how I'd feel if something happened to any of my nieces, or either of my nephews. I called my aunts and uncle on my dad's side of the family. I called my mom's brother. The rest of her side of the family are nut jobs. I'll let me uncle figure out when to tell my grandparents. Grandpa just came home from the hospital this week, so his health is fragile enough.
I want to go home. I want to spend this week with my family, so my mom won't feel like she's abandoning her husband, or her daughter. I want to see my sister alive. I can't go, though. I don't have vacation time or pay at work. I don't have money to make up for the lost time at work. The only thing I DO have is Spring Break from school.
Maybe I'll do a hell-or-high-water trip home next weekend, for Easter. I have a day off work, whether I want it or not.
I don't suppose I really need to blog about this, but I need to write it out. I need to work through the shock and fear. I need to see, in black and white, the words that she's going to be fine.
I want to send thank you cards to the paramedics who got her out. If they'd been less skilled, less careful, she'd be paralyzed. I want to thank the old woman who called in the accident and stayed with my sister until the paramedics arrived.
Guardian angels sometimes are as human as you and me.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Friendship
Friendship is often taken for granted. When you have it, you ignore it. You assume it will always be there. You don't nurture it.
And then, one day, it's gone.
Two years ago, I had to very good, very close friends. I considered them family. They were, and are, very important to me. But two years ago, the writing group we'd been in together for over ten years was shut down. And slowly, we drifted apart. I lived close to one, and with a little effort we could have kept in touch. Phone calls, getting together, IMing...
But I was working full time, and going to school full time. I was, and am, sensitive to those little clues that indicate that someone's backing away from me. Especially with this one friend. I had observed for myself how she distanced herself from someone else who was trying too hard to be friends with her.
I assumed that she was doing the same thing with me. It started with IM conversations that elicited monosyllable responses. She never suggested getting together; it was always my initiation. In my last month in California, she made no effort to get together with me. That hurt. Once I moved, God knew when we'd actually be able to see each other again. If I mattered to her, wouldn't she have at least suggested dinner sometime in the week before I left?
She didn't work. She wasn't in school. She didn't contact me.
I interpretted this as her wish to sever the friendship. It hurt, a lot, to realize this. I still considered her one of my best and closest friends. And because I stilled cared - and I'm essentially a coward - I didn't confront her and demand to know if my assumption was right.
With the other friend, she lives a distance away. I can't honestly say she drifted away as much as I let her go. She was never one to start an IM conversation. If I didn't start the conversation, then we wouldn't have one. But she and our other friends are very close, and I suppose I thought of them as a pair. Lose one, lose the other.
But over the past year, I've been thinking a lot. Did I let go too easily? Did protecting myself cost me a friendship - two friendships - that were and are important to me? Should I have pushed?
And I started thinking about other frienships that had faded over the years. Some with cause. Some just because life moved on, priorities and circumstances changed.
Are those reasons enough to let something as precious as friendship go, without even trying to keep it?
True friendship is rare. It should be protected and nurtured. It should be the prize rose in the flower garden, not the weed out in the empty field.
I decided to make an effort. I wrote a letter. A form letter, yes, because it made me feel safer. I emailed it to those old friends that I didn't have a home address for. I'll mail it to those that I do have a home address for.
And hopefully, my friendships will blossom again.
And then, one day, it's gone.
Two years ago, I had to very good, very close friends. I considered them family. They were, and are, very important to me. But two years ago, the writing group we'd been in together for over ten years was shut down. And slowly, we drifted apart. I lived close to one, and with a little effort we could have kept in touch. Phone calls, getting together, IMing...
But I was working full time, and going to school full time. I was, and am, sensitive to those little clues that indicate that someone's backing away from me. Especially with this one friend. I had observed for myself how she distanced herself from someone else who was trying too hard to be friends with her.
I assumed that she was doing the same thing with me. It started with IM conversations that elicited monosyllable responses. She never suggested getting together; it was always my initiation. In my last month in California, she made no effort to get together with me. That hurt. Once I moved, God knew when we'd actually be able to see each other again. If I mattered to her, wouldn't she have at least suggested dinner sometime in the week before I left?
She didn't work. She wasn't in school. She didn't contact me.
I interpretted this as her wish to sever the friendship. It hurt, a lot, to realize this. I still considered her one of my best and closest friends. And because I stilled cared - and I'm essentially a coward - I didn't confront her and demand to know if my assumption was right.
With the other friend, she lives a distance away. I can't honestly say she drifted away as much as I let her go. She was never one to start an IM conversation. If I didn't start the conversation, then we wouldn't have one. But she and our other friends are very close, and I suppose I thought of them as a pair. Lose one, lose the other.
But over the past year, I've been thinking a lot. Did I let go too easily? Did protecting myself cost me a friendship - two friendships - that were and are important to me? Should I have pushed?
And I started thinking about other frienships that had faded over the years. Some with cause. Some just because life moved on, priorities and circumstances changed.
Are those reasons enough to let something as precious as friendship go, without even trying to keep it?
True friendship is rare. It should be protected and nurtured. It should be the prize rose in the flower garden, not the weed out in the empty field.
I decided to make an effort. I wrote a letter. A form letter, yes, because it made me feel safer. I emailed it to those old friends that I didn't have a home address for. I'll mail it to those that I do have a home address for.
And hopefully, my friendships will blossom again.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Reading Journals
Okay, I have to take a few minutes and vent. I have to. If I don't, I'll end up doing it in the reading journal and I'm pretty positive my grade on those will be low enough. I don't need to make it lower.
I hate these damn things.
I like reading the essays. They're interesting! I don't like analyzing them. I hate this part: "Spend more time talking about how the writer does what he/she does, and less on what story the essay tells."
Why do I hate it? Because I suck at it. I can read the essay and I can probably sum up then overall purpose or point of it in a sentence. But identifying who the writer does what he/she does? That's where I get stumped.
I read for pleasure. I read for escapism. I write for the same reasons. Something in me slams on the brakes and throws up mental barriers when I try to exam what I've read. "No, sorry, that's not why you read. Stop right there!" is the message my brain sends out whenever I try to analyze something I've read.
I know I'm doing poorly on the reading journals, even without having the grade from the first set back yet. I hate when I get bad grades. I try to stick to the instructions and do what is required, but I keep veering away from that. Trying to write a half-page for each essay is a challenge. Me, who has always prided myself on being able to write as much as is required for anything, about anything. I can't squeeze out a half page because I'm trying not to spend too much wordage on recapping the essay.
I really, really, really hate these reading journals. If I could just read the essays, then write my thoughts and impressions and interpretations of them, it would be easier. But identifying what the writer does, and how they do it? I'm afraid my brain just doesn't work that way.
Okay. Back to finishing the journals. I really didn't put them off until the last minute on purpose. I've just been so busy with work and school and deadlines and studying that hte 12th got here too fast.
I hate these damn things.
I like reading the essays. They're interesting! I don't like analyzing them. I hate this part: "Spend more time talking about how the writer does what he/she does, and less on what story the essay tells."
Why do I hate it? Because I suck at it. I can read the essay and I can probably sum up then overall purpose or point of it in a sentence. But identifying who the writer does what he/she does? That's where I get stumped.
I read for pleasure. I read for escapism. I write for the same reasons. Something in me slams on the brakes and throws up mental barriers when I try to exam what I've read. "No, sorry, that's not why you read. Stop right there!" is the message my brain sends out whenever I try to analyze something I've read.
I know I'm doing poorly on the reading journals, even without having the grade from the first set back yet. I hate when I get bad grades. I try to stick to the instructions and do what is required, but I keep veering away from that. Trying to write a half-page for each essay is a challenge. Me, who has always prided myself on being able to write as much as is required for anything, about anything. I can't squeeze out a half page because I'm trying not to spend too much wordage on recapping the essay.
I really, really, really hate these reading journals. If I could just read the essays, then write my thoughts and impressions and interpretations of them, it would be easier. But identifying what the writer does, and how they do it? I'm afraid my brain just doesn't work that way.
Okay. Back to finishing the journals. I really didn't put them off until the last minute on purpose. I've just been so busy with work and school and deadlines and studying that hte 12th got here too fast.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
I don't want to work anymore...
I have 40 minutes to go before I can clock out and head....to school. I'd rather head home, but Tuesdays and Wednesdsays are my on-campus class nights. Sometimes I think it's better to have a free night between them. It makes the long days easier to bear. Sometimes I think it's better to have them back-to-back like this semester, so I can get those long days over with in one go.
What would really be best if I didn't have to work and could just concentrate on my classes and not have any long days at all. But that's not going to happen.
The last week of the month and the first week/week and a half of the month are my busiest times. So I've been charging full steam ahead and overwhelmed for the past two and a half weeks. I'm TIRED. As of today, around noon, I've gotten to the point where all the urgent must-get-done-ASAP!!!! stuff is done and now I've a week and a half of less urgent things to occupy my time.
Or not. Occupy my time, that is. My job is an entry level one. I am not an entry level person. I can do a lot MORE than my job requires of me. I've tried to get them to let me do a lot more, but it doesn't happen. I've added aspects to my job that the bosses like, and which takes more of my time, but isn't really all that hard to do or figure out. So unless I'm absolutely buried...I get really, really bored. I tend to loaf. I end up doing just what I'm doing now: working on something that's for me and has nothing to do with work.
Why do employers do that? Why don't they use their employees to their fullest potential? Why are we pigeon-holed by job descriptions that only address one area of our skill set? And why won't they let us branch out if we 1) have the desire to do so, and 2) have the time to do so? It seems like a waste of everyone's time, and it's demoralizing to the employee. I much rather work at a job where I always have something to do.
Okay, must be fair. I have something to do right now. I just don't want to. I've an 8 inch stack of deposit batches I need to scan, rename the files, and save to the server. I need to make folders for March's deposit batches. The first will require standing on my feet at the copier for a significant length of time. I'll wait til Friday to do that job, since on that day I can wear tennis shoes. Today...I have 3.5 inch heels on. The folders...will take maybe half an hour to do - after I find someone to let me in the storage vault to get more hanging files. I can do that tomorrow.
There are also some researchy things I can do - but once I get deep into research, I don't like being interrupted. When you lose your train of thought, you almost have to start from the beginning again. With only 40 (now 30) minutes left in the day, researching anything is pointless. I'll just have to start all over again tomorrow.
So now I sit here, not wanting to work anymore, and booooooored. I know what I want to do, but like research, once I start writing I don't want to be interrupted. It would be more frustrating than rewarding at this point to open a story and start working on it just to close it out in half an hour.
I could make a grocery list. But that will just irritate me.
I could wander into someone else's office and kill time - but I hate when they do that to me when I'm working, so I won't do it to them.
Taking a nap is definitely out. Bosses frown on that. :)
Twenty minutes to go. I still don't want to work. But guess I'll have to find something to do, anyway!
What would really be best if I didn't have to work and could just concentrate on my classes and not have any long days at all. But that's not going to happen.
The last week of the month and the first week/week and a half of the month are my busiest times. So I've been charging full steam ahead and overwhelmed for the past two and a half weeks. I'm TIRED. As of today, around noon, I've gotten to the point where all the urgent must-get-done-ASAP!!!! stuff is done and now I've a week and a half of less urgent things to occupy my time.
Or not. Occupy my time, that is. My job is an entry level one. I am not an entry level person. I can do a lot MORE than my job requires of me. I've tried to get them to let me do a lot more, but it doesn't happen. I've added aspects to my job that the bosses like, and which takes more of my time, but isn't really all that hard to do or figure out. So unless I'm absolutely buried...I get really, really bored. I tend to loaf. I end up doing just what I'm doing now: working on something that's for me and has nothing to do with work.
Why do employers do that? Why don't they use their employees to their fullest potential? Why are we pigeon-holed by job descriptions that only address one area of our skill set? And why won't they let us branch out if we 1) have the desire to do so, and 2) have the time to do so? It seems like a waste of everyone's time, and it's demoralizing to the employee. I much rather work at a job where I always have something to do.
Okay, must be fair. I have something to do right now. I just don't want to. I've an 8 inch stack of deposit batches I need to scan, rename the files, and save to the server. I need to make folders for March's deposit batches. The first will require standing on my feet at the copier for a significant length of time. I'll wait til Friday to do that job, since on that day I can wear tennis shoes. Today...I have 3.5 inch heels on. The folders...will take maybe half an hour to do - after I find someone to let me in the storage vault to get more hanging files. I can do that tomorrow.
There are also some researchy things I can do - but once I get deep into research, I don't like being interrupted. When you lose your train of thought, you almost have to start from the beginning again. With only 40 (now 30) minutes left in the day, researching anything is pointless. I'll just have to start all over again tomorrow.
So now I sit here, not wanting to work anymore, and booooooored. I know what I want to do, but like research, once I start writing I don't want to be interrupted. It would be more frustrating than rewarding at this point to open a story and start working on it just to close it out in half an hour.
I could make a grocery list. But that will just irritate me.
I could wander into someone else's office and kill time - but I hate when they do that to me when I'm working, so I won't do it to them.
Taking a nap is definitely out. Bosses frown on that. :)
Twenty minutes to go. I still don't want to work. But guess I'll have to find something to do, anyway!
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Would the voices in my head please shut up?
It's a little disconcerting sometimes. With most people, if they hear voices in their head, it's usually time to call the doc and arrange for happy drugs. Or at least brain-numb drugs. With writers, however - we're expected to have voices in our heads. When we don't, it's not a good sign.
I call myself a writer, but I'm not a published one. I probably never will be. But publication doesn't make the writer. It's the drive to write, to put your stories on paper, that makes a writer. As a published author (I forget who) once told me, "If you wake up in the morning and you want to write, then you're a writer. A lot of writers never saw print, but don't let that discourage you."
So, yes. I'm a writer. I think about it a lot. I do it a lot. Finishing a story can make my day. Struggling to think of a good plot can ruin my week. Looking forward to character interactions can put me on a high faster than any drug.
But really - when the characters start having conversations in my head, it's a little distracting. Especially when they're newlywed couple, joined for political reasons, but both good-hearted people, and their in a hayloft. There is a cat. There are rumors just beginning. And I'm trying to prepared a Aged Receivables report. It's hard to think numbers when Lehla's cooing at the cat and Armagen is watching her with a bemused expression. And the cat is being as aloof and dignified as only a cat can be with hay sticking out of his fur.
Lehla is a new character for me, but she sprang to mind fully-fleshed. All it took was Kris saying, "Hey, could you write up a wife for Armagen? It's time he was married." And ta-da! There she was. I knew what she looked like. I knew her background. I knew her personality. And she had a very strong voice. Our first story was written in three days, and turned out to be about 10,000 words.
And then she started talking to me at work and I realized...Lehla and Armagen's story didn't have to stay in the obscure area of Pern fandom fanfic. No. With a tweak here, a tweak there - their story could very easily become an original work, in a classic fantasy setting. Kris and I write so well together, it would almost be easy - IF we could keep up the momentum and not get distracted.
Now I have two Lehla's in my head, vying for attention.
Welcome to the party, Lady Lehla. Please join the other 200 characters who've taken up residence in Chateau Anna...
Some characters aren't nearly as vocal as Lehla is right now. D'ven, for one - he seldom wants to share a story with me, but his presence is very strong. I've tried a few times to kill him off. If he won't share his story, then he needs to go. The skull is getting a little crowded. But no, he won't let me kill him. He is most definitely alive and well, and not going anywhere.
Z'leena's another one. My very first character EVER. I made SO MANY mistakes when I wrote her up. A lot of folks would just erase and begin again, or rewrite the character and background to eliminate those glaring newbie errors. Not me. No. I decided, I made the mistakes, but I'd fix them realistically - but letting her learn, heal, and grow. She's now pretty much a legend in the writing group. Happily married, a mother of five, and a leader in the community. Eighteen years ago, no one could have conceived of her in any of those three roles. As a writer, I'm very proud of her growth, through the stories written and how readers perceive her.
But sometimes the clamoring in my head from characters wanting me to write their stories is very distracting. They usually clamor loudest when I'm at work, or driving, and I can't really pay attention. And when I want them to speak up - they all go silent.
I wouldn't trade it, though. :) It is so much FUN to write a story and have someone tell you how much they enjoyed it, or how sad it was, or to cheer on that character's triumph. So what if I never get published? I'm having fun!
....even if the rest of the world thinks I should be in a looney bin! ;)
I call myself a writer, but I'm not a published one. I probably never will be. But publication doesn't make the writer. It's the drive to write, to put your stories on paper, that makes a writer. As a published author (I forget who) once told me, "If you wake up in the morning and you want to write, then you're a writer. A lot of writers never saw print, but don't let that discourage you."
So, yes. I'm a writer. I think about it a lot. I do it a lot. Finishing a story can make my day. Struggling to think of a good plot can ruin my week. Looking forward to character interactions can put me on a high faster than any drug.
But really - when the characters start having conversations in my head, it's a little distracting. Especially when they're newlywed couple, joined for political reasons, but both good-hearted people, and their in a hayloft. There is a cat. There are rumors just beginning. And I'm trying to prepared a Aged Receivables report. It's hard to think numbers when Lehla's cooing at the cat and Armagen is watching her with a bemused expression. And the cat is being as aloof and dignified as only a cat can be with hay sticking out of his fur.
Lehla is a new character for me, but she sprang to mind fully-fleshed. All it took was Kris saying, "Hey, could you write up a wife for Armagen? It's time he was married." And ta-da! There she was. I knew what she looked like. I knew her background. I knew her personality. And she had a very strong voice. Our first story was written in three days, and turned out to be about 10,000 words.
And then she started talking to me at work and I realized...Lehla and Armagen's story didn't have to stay in the obscure area of Pern fandom fanfic. No. With a tweak here, a tweak there - their story could very easily become an original work, in a classic fantasy setting. Kris and I write so well together, it would almost be easy - IF we could keep up the momentum and not get distracted.
Now I have two Lehla's in my head, vying for attention.
Welcome to the party, Lady Lehla. Please join the other 200 characters who've taken up residence in Chateau Anna...
Some characters aren't nearly as vocal as Lehla is right now. D'ven, for one - he seldom wants to share a story with me, but his presence is very strong. I've tried a few times to kill him off. If he won't share his story, then he needs to go. The skull is getting a little crowded. But no, he won't let me kill him. He is most definitely alive and well, and not going anywhere.
Z'leena's another one. My very first character EVER. I made SO MANY mistakes when I wrote her up. A lot of folks would just erase and begin again, or rewrite the character and background to eliminate those glaring newbie errors. Not me. No. I decided, I made the mistakes, but I'd fix them realistically - but letting her learn, heal, and grow. She's now pretty much a legend in the writing group. Happily married, a mother of five, and a leader in the community. Eighteen years ago, no one could have conceived of her in any of those three roles. As a writer, I'm very proud of her growth, through the stories written and how readers perceive her.
But sometimes the clamoring in my head from characters wanting me to write their stories is very distracting. They usually clamor loudest when I'm at work, or driving, and I can't really pay attention. And when I want them to speak up - they all go silent.
I wouldn't trade it, though. :) It is so much FUN to write a story and have someone tell you how much they enjoyed it, or how sad it was, or to cheer on that character's triumph. So what if I never get published? I'm having fun!
....even if the rest of the world thinks I should be in a looney bin! ;)
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Leaders and Managers
One of the classes I'm taking this semester is Leadership. I'm very interested in the topic, but I'm also a little frustrated. It seems to me that leadership, and leaders, are being looked at too narrowly.
What is a leader? What is leadership?
The focus of the class is in how leaders and leadership relate to a business environment. But business is not the only, or even the first, area where leaders and leadership first appeared. Why only look at one slice of the pie? Shouldn't we look at all of it?
At present, no one can truly, definitively, say what a leader is, or what leadership is. The studies continue, the theories are argued, but conclusive decisions have no really been made. Can a leader be made? Or is someone born with the qualities necessary? Can the traits be taught? Is everyone a leader, in the right situation?
And what about managers?
I posted this question on my Facebook account a few days ago, and the folks that responded fell in line with the generally accepted business perspective. I wasn't happy with that. I want to know, do people look beyond business these days to other parts of life where leaders and managers can make a difference?
Outside of the business environment, what are leaders? What are managers? What's the difference between the two?
Here's what I think. Leaders inspire others to do more than they would be naturally inclined to do. Managers organize, oversee, and ensure what needs doing gets done - and since they don't inspire others, they often end up doing it on their own.
Leaders are charismatic. They are extroverted. They know how to connect with people. Managers are intelligent. They are hard workers. They are persistent. Well, good leaders and managers are. Good being 'good at what they do' and not 'good at their heart.' Leaders and managers are not automatically good people; they can be just as evil as the next person.
Can everyone learn to be a leader? Probably - but not a skilled one. Leadership is an inborn characteristic. The desire to be a leader must be there, part of a person's basic nature. Even then, they may not be a good leader, but they'll have the desire to be. The same with a manager. You can learn the technical aspects of the role, but does that really make you a manager?
When I first started this semester and told my friends that I was taking a class on Leadership, they're general response was, "Oh, you'll do good there! You're a great leader! You've been doing that for years!" It was flattering to hear, but it also made me stop and think. AM I a leader? Or am I a manager? Which do I want to be, and which do I think am?
I'm not a leader. I'm a manager. I'd like to be a leader, but I don't know if I have the inborn qualities necessary for it. I don't inspire others, you see, regardless of how I try. I can't persuade anyone to do something other than what they want to do, no matter what's at stake. I don't inspire loyalty in others. But, oh, I can manager! I can admin like crazy, get the job done, keep things organized, moving, and on target.
So. Should I be happy with being a manager, and not a leader? Or should I try to make myself a leader? And would making myself a leader mean I'd have to pare and trim my personality, my essential self, down to the quick, then assume and apply characteristics that aren't native to me? Is the sacrifice of self worth a change in description? And what purpose would it ultimately serve when most of the world can't differentiate between a leader and a manager?
And why is one preferable over the other, when the world needs both? Why is either better than being a follower/supporter, when the world needs all of us?
What is a leader? What is leadership?
The focus of the class is in how leaders and leadership relate to a business environment. But business is not the only, or even the first, area where leaders and leadership first appeared. Why only look at one slice of the pie? Shouldn't we look at all of it?
At present, no one can truly, definitively, say what a leader is, or what leadership is. The studies continue, the theories are argued, but conclusive decisions have no really been made. Can a leader be made? Or is someone born with the qualities necessary? Can the traits be taught? Is everyone a leader, in the right situation?
And what about managers?
I posted this question on my Facebook account a few days ago, and the folks that responded fell in line with the generally accepted business perspective. I wasn't happy with that. I want to know, do people look beyond business these days to other parts of life where leaders and managers can make a difference?
Outside of the business environment, what are leaders? What are managers? What's the difference between the two?
Here's what I think. Leaders inspire others to do more than they would be naturally inclined to do. Managers organize, oversee, and ensure what needs doing gets done - and since they don't inspire others, they often end up doing it on their own.
Leaders are charismatic. They are extroverted. They know how to connect with people. Managers are intelligent. They are hard workers. They are persistent. Well, good leaders and managers are. Good being 'good at what they do' and not 'good at their heart.' Leaders and managers are not automatically good people; they can be just as evil as the next person.
Can everyone learn to be a leader? Probably - but not a skilled one. Leadership is an inborn characteristic. The desire to be a leader must be there, part of a person's basic nature. Even then, they may not be a good leader, but they'll have the desire to be. The same with a manager. You can learn the technical aspects of the role, but does that really make you a manager?
When I first started this semester and told my friends that I was taking a class on Leadership, they're general response was, "Oh, you'll do good there! You're a great leader! You've been doing that for years!" It was flattering to hear, but it also made me stop and think. AM I a leader? Or am I a manager? Which do I want to be, and which do I think am?
I'm not a leader. I'm a manager. I'd like to be a leader, but I don't know if I have the inborn qualities necessary for it. I don't inspire others, you see, regardless of how I try. I can't persuade anyone to do something other than what they want to do, no matter what's at stake. I don't inspire loyalty in others. But, oh, I can manager! I can admin like crazy, get the job done, keep things organized, moving, and on target.
So. Should I be happy with being a manager, and not a leader? Or should I try to make myself a leader? And would making myself a leader mean I'd have to pare and trim my personality, my essential self, down to the quick, then assume and apply characteristics that aren't native to me? Is the sacrifice of self worth a change in description? And what purpose would it ultimately serve when most of the world can't differentiate between a leader and a manager?
And why is one preferable over the other, when the world needs both? Why is either better than being a follower/supporter, when the world needs all of us?
Friday, February 19, 2010
Five Hours To Go…
It’s been 23 years since I last viewed the world without glasses or contacts. More than 23 years since I viewed the world clearly with an unaided eye. Twenty-three years of being chained and shackled by a handicap that most people don’t even see as a handicap because of how prevalent it is.
People blessed with 20/20 vision can’t understand. They don’t have a common frame of reference, they can’t truly experience what it’s like to have imperfect vision. People with minor vision problems get a hint, but even they can’t really understand.
When I was 16, I accidentally ruined my glasses. My contacts had torn, and this was before the time when contacts became disposable. The pair you bought would have to last you until your next prescription because there was no throwing them away. So I had to go to school without my glasses. I made it to the classrooms by memory. I knew the general location and the path to take to get to each one. Reading what the teacher wrote on the board, however, or even writing notes was out. You can’t write when you’re nose is almost touching the paper, you know.
But leaving school that day is when the true enormity of my disability crashed in on me.
I couldn’t cross the street.
Even with myopia – nearsightedness – you can generally distinguish one blur of color from the next, to some extent. I discovered that’s not necessarily true. By the time a car got close enough for me to distinguish it’s out-of-place color from the general grey or blackness of the road, it was too late. I stood on the sidewalk and tried to compensate with my hearing – but the school’s parking lot was next to me and the sound of the cars there drowned out the sound of any oncoming cars. I could only stand there and cry as I realized just how helpless I was.
No one offered to help me. No one noticed my problem. I was still standing on the sidewalk by the street when the cars all left the school, and the brief pause between school letting out and the evening cruising of the street by teenagers began. I finally took a chance…and crossed the street. And cried for the mile walk home, taking a chance on each street that I crossed. There were two more busy streets on my route that could not be avoided, but which I tried to cross at points where they were less busy.
The next day I had my appointment with the optometrist. I asked him, “Just how bad are my eyes?” He’d only say, “You don’t want to know. But if they weren’t correctable, you’d be legally blind.”
I found out last week how bad my eyes are now. The opthamologist said they were ‘worse than’ 20/400, because that’s as high as they went on the one test I took for my LASIK evaluation. When I was discussing it with a friend later that night and told her my contact prescription, she translated it for me. At the time I was prescribed my contacts, my vision was 20/750.
I’ve spent most of my lifetime viewing the world through a blur, or through a limited tunnel of clear vision, surrounding by a blur. I can’t remember anymore what it’s like to wake up and see the time clearly. I can’t remember what it’s like to actually play a game outside and enjoy it without the discomfort of a pair of glasses sliding down my nose, jostling out of place, or flying off. Or not worrying that an eyelash might fall in my eye. Or being able to wear make up without ending up looking like a clown simply because I can’t see well enough to put it on – or can’t put it on around the glasses.
Children make fun of other children who wear glasses. “Four-eyes” and “nerd” were the common names when I was a kid. I’m sure they’ve gotten more imaginative since then.
Faulty eyesight is a handicap. It puts constraints and limits on your life that you come to hardly notice at all. In five more hours, I’ll be able to start living life without those hindrances…and you have no idea how much I’m looking forward to waking up tomorrow morning and seeing the clock.
I’ll miss the pretty light-globes, though….
People blessed with 20/20 vision can’t understand. They don’t have a common frame of reference, they can’t truly experience what it’s like to have imperfect vision. People with minor vision problems get a hint, but even they can’t really understand.
When I was 16, I accidentally ruined my glasses. My contacts had torn, and this was before the time when contacts became disposable. The pair you bought would have to last you until your next prescription because there was no throwing them away. So I had to go to school without my glasses. I made it to the classrooms by memory. I knew the general location and the path to take to get to each one. Reading what the teacher wrote on the board, however, or even writing notes was out. You can’t write when you’re nose is almost touching the paper, you know.
But leaving school that day is when the true enormity of my disability crashed in on me.
I couldn’t cross the street.
Even with myopia – nearsightedness – you can generally distinguish one blur of color from the next, to some extent. I discovered that’s not necessarily true. By the time a car got close enough for me to distinguish it’s out-of-place color from the general grey or blackness of the road, it was too late. I stood on the sidewalk and tried to compensate with my hearing – but the school’s parking lot was next to me and the sound of the cars there drowned out the sound of any oncoming cars. I could only stand there and cry as I realized just how helpless I was.
No one offered to help me. No one noticed my problem. I was still standing on the sidewalk by the street when the cars all left the school, and the brief pause between school letting out and the evening cruising of the street by teenagers began. I finally took a chance…and crossed the street. And cried for the mile walk home, taking a chance on each street that I crossed. There were two more busy streets on my route that could not be avoided, but which I tried to cross at points where they were less busy.
The next day I had my appointment with the optometrist. I asked him, “Just how bad are my eyes?” He’d only say, “You don’t want to know. But if they weren’t correctable, you’d be legally blind.”
I found out last week how bad my eyes are now. The opthamologist said they were ‘worse than’ 20/400, because that’s as high as they went on the one test I took for my LASIK evaluation. When I was discussing it with a friend later that night and told her my contact prescription, she translated it for me. At the time I was prescribed my contacts, my vision was 20/750.
I’ve spent most of my lifetime viewing the world through a blur, or through a limited tunnel of clear vision, surrounding by a blur. I can’t remember anymore what it’s like to wake up and see the time clearly. I can’t remember what it’s like to actually play a game outside and enjoy it without the discomfort of a pair of glasses sliding down my nose, jostling out of place, or flying off. Or not worrying that an eyelash might fall in my eye. Or being able to wear make up without ending up looking like a clown simply because I can’t see well enough to put it on – or can’t put it on around the glasses.
Children make fun of other children who wear glasses. “Four-eyes” and “nerd” were the common names when I was a kid. I’m sure they’ve gotten more imaginative since then.
Faulty eyesight is a handicap. It puts constraints and limits on your life that you come to hardly notice at all. In five more hours, I’ll be able to start living life without those hindrances…and you have no idea how much I’m looking forward to waking up tomorrow morning and seeing the clock.
I’ll miss the pretty light-globes, though….
Sunday, February 7, 2010
A brief history of Pern fandom and StarRise
I enjoy writing. I've enjoyed it for about 20 years now. I don't really examine my writing closely, or work hard to get it as close to perfect as possible. For me, writing is a hobby, a stress relief, an adventure I enjoy with friends. Occasionally I try to work on some original fiction, but most of my writing time and energy is devoted to fanfic. Fan fiction.
There aren't a lot of fandoms that I've written for. I've done two stories for Buffy: the Vampire Slayer. One was a crossover with Anita Blake. That one turned out quite well, I think. Blending the two different types of vampires and backgrounds was interesting, and chasing sundown took some planning. But it was fun and I enjoyed it.
I did a Stargate/Angel crossover, as well. It was 15-minute fic challenge. That one was fun, too! :)
I've played a bit in ElfQuest. I love Wendy Pini's artwork, and the characters and storyline she created are exceptional, in my opinion.
Most of the past twenty years, however, has been focused on Pern fanfic. Pern fanfic is different than a lot of the other fanfics. Pern fanfic has a decades long history. They're more like a writing group than is usually found. It started back in the early 80's, if not earlier. A group of friends got together and said, "What if...?" and the first fandom Weyr was created. Since then, Pern fandom went through a golden age: groups sprang up. People joined from all over the world. They created characters in the world Anne McCaffrey created, and they wrote stories. Those stories were collected and published by the group's leaders. Then the magazines - what we call fanzines - were sent out to all the members. And the next round of story writing and collecting began. At the time, most communication was through postal mail, so contact was slow. Feedback on the stories wasn't common. Coming to know the writers of the stories was almost impossible.
The golden age peaked around 1990-1990. Computers in the home were becoming more common, and Pern fandom found a home on GEnie. GEnie was similar to AOL, but text-based. Prodigy and Compuserve were other well-known online communities at the time. AOL was a newcomer viewed with some misgivings.
Then GEnie vanished. The communities there scrambled to find a new home. AOL served for a while, but between GEnie's death and some internal conflicts within the Pern pond, Pern fandom started a decline. As newbies had been warned for years, and continue to refuse to believe, involving Anne McCaffrey in fannish disputes is a Very Bad Idea. Ms. McCaffrey's response is that of a mother: if you can't play with the toys together nicely, then you can't play with the toys at all. New, stringent rules were laid down for her fan groups, and many fans became disillusioned.
Time was also taking its toll. Fans of the books, when they first came out or were still in their first decade or so of print, with a new book coming out each year, were aging. They were going to college, getting married, having kids, and finding less time for reading, writing, and keeping in touch.
Writing groups, now with strong online presences, but still sticking to their origins as paper fanzine groups, began to slow down and suffer. Submissions were reduced. Member involvement faded. Incoming memberships were less than expiring membership.
By 1997, the old fanzine based groups were being replaced and outnumbered by online-only groups. Computers were in more and more homes, communication was faster, if not instantaneous. And writing...was becoming less the goal than role playing. Stories weren't written as much, but oh, the pages and pages of drivel that two people online and chatting could churn out...!
I inherited the first Pern group I joined in 1997. I also inherited the directorship of Anne McCaffrey's program track at Dragon*Con. I became, in essence, a very big fish in a very small pond. Over the next three years, I became very active in several of the Pern groups, including becoming leader of at least two others. My goal was to make the entire world active in the same comprehensive timeline. I had such grand plans.
I should have focused all that energy and enthusiasm on my own original writing!
But time and inexperience were against me. By 1997, the fandom groups were fading. Even the online groups were struggling. The brief sanctuary on AOL didn't last. The rules for establishing your own Pern fandom group relaxed again to some extent in 2000. By 2001, I was one of two people who had been authorized by Anne McCaffrey to review new clubs and give them the stamp of approval or tell them that they were violating her copyright and what they needed to do to fix it. Today, I'm the only one, but it doesn't mean much now, since she essentially eliminated all the rules and said, "Do what you will, just don't make money on my intellectual property." But some people like to have that stamp of approval - and the opportunity to have a link to their group on her website.
StarRise, the group I had inherited, had been essentially inactive - not publishing its fanzine - for about three years at the point I took over. When I joined in 1990 or so, they had over 300 members, all around the world. When I took over and did a membership verification, we had 30 who responded. It was enough to go on with!
So I tried for a few years. There were some upsets, some highs and some lows, but eventually I had to admit that it was time to lay StarRise to sleep. I'd tried to change the form of the club to meet the current preference. I tried to make the fanzine an online-only publication. I tried to include live-chat RPs, and email RPs. I even tried eliminating the fanzine altogether and published stories as I received them on a story-only mailing list. Nothing worked. Life had moved on. It was time for StarRise to retire, and my heart broke at the loss.
About a year and a half ago, a friend approached me and said that she and a long-ago member of StarRise were going to start it again. I horned in on their co-leadership and made it a trio. :) What can I say? I'm possessive!
I'd tried co-leadership before. They failed miserably. I tried a board of directors, which became all the rage in Pern group leadership back in the mid-1990s. Failed abysmally, as far as I was concerned. But this triad...we fit.
We reduced the number of zines we produce a year from the original four, to two. With our busy adult lives, it's much easier for us and all our members to manage. We scheduled our deadlines to not interfere with school starts or ends, Christmas, or other major family holiday things, something that had been a problem before. We set firm deadlines, and we've stuck to them. Our first two zines were published on time, and our third is in the works now, with a publish date of March 1st. We'll make that date, too. StarRise is alive again, and my heart sings for it!
Why have I come to dwell today on StarRise, Pern fandom, and the history of both? I suppose it's because yesterday morning I officially shut down another writing group I'd started with a friend. It was a Pern group; it was ElfQuest based. But shutting it down, admitting I didn't have the time to nurture and grow it, reminded me of that hard decision I made for StarRise several years ago. Of that hard decision I made for several Pern groups over the years. I'm sad to give up Westering Holt. I love my characters there, and the ongoing stories I was weaving for them. I'll miss the interaction with other members, and writing with them. But most, I think, I regret my failure to keep the group active.
I started out this post with the intent to compare Pern fandom writers with fanfic writers, but the history of Pern fandom and StarRise took over. Now I'm not so much interested in comparing the two - other than saying readers of fanfic are a LOT more likely to give you feedback on your story than Pern fandom readers do. But then again - if Pern fandom readers like your story, they pounce you and say, "Hey, wanna do a story with your character and mine? I have a great idea!"
I guess that's even a better compliment to the writer, isn't it? :)
There aren't a lot of fandoms that I've written for. I've done two stories for Buffy: the Vampire Slayer. One was a crossover with Anita Blake. That one turned out quite well, I think. Blending the two different types of vampires and backgrounds was interesting, and chasing sundown took some planning. But it was fun and I enjoyed it.
I did a Stargate/Angel crossover, as well. It was 15-minute fic challenge. That one was fun, too! :)
I've played a bit in ElfQuest. I love Wendy Pini's artwork, and the characters and storyline she created are exceptional, in my opinion.
Most of the past twenty years, however, has been focused on Pern fanfic. Pern fanfic is different than a lot of the other fanfics. Pern fanfic has a decades long history. They're more like a writing group than is usually found. It started back in the early 80's, if not earlier. A group of friends got together and said, "What if...?" and the first fandom Weyr was created. Since then, Pern fandom went through a golden age: groups sprang up. People joined from all over the world. They created characters in the world Anne McCaffrey created, and they wrote stories. Those stories were collected and published by the group's leaders. Then the magazines - what we call fanzines - were sent out to all the members. And the next round of story writing and collecting began. At the time, most communication was through postal mail, so contact was slow. Feedback on the stories wasn't common. Coming to know the writers of the stories was almost impossible.
The golden age peaked around 1990-1990. Computers in the home were becoming more common, and Pern fandom found a home on GEnie. GEnie was similar to AOL, but text-based. Prodigy and Compuserve were other well-known online communities at the time. AOL was a newcomer viewed with some misgivings.
Then GEnie vanished. The communities there scrambled to find a new home. AOL served for a while, but between GEnie's death and some internal conflicts within the Pern pond, Pern fandom started a decline. As newbies had been warned for years, and continue to refuse to believe, involving Anne McCaffrey in fannish disputes is a Very Bad Idea. Ms. McCaffrey's response is that of a mother: if you can't play with the toys together nicely, then you can't play with the toys at all. New, stringent rules were laid down for her fan groups, and many fans became disillusioned.
Time was also taking its toll. Fans of the books, when they first came out or were still in their first decade or so of print, with a new book coming out each year, were aging. They were going to college, getting married, having kids, and finding less time for reading, writing, and keeping in touch.
Writing groups, now with strong online presences, but still sticking to their origins as paper fanzine groups, began to slow down and suffer. Submissions were reduced. Member involvement faded. Incoming memberships were less than expiring membership.
By 1997, the old fanzine based groups were being replaced and outnumbered by online-only groups. Computers were in more and more homes, communication was faster, if not instantaneous. And writing...was becoming less the goal than role playing. Stories weren't written as much, but oh, the pages and pages of drivel that two people online and chatting could churn out...!
I inherited the first Pern group I joined in 1997. I also inherited the directorship of Anne McCaffrey's program track at Dragon*Con. I became, in essence, a very big fish in a very small pond. Over the next three years, I became very active in several of the Pern groups, including becoming leader of at least two others. My goal was to make the entire world active in the same comprehensive timeline. I had such grand plans.
I should have focused all that energy and enthusiasm on my own original writing!
But time and inexperience were against me. By 1997, the fandom groups were fading. Even the online groups were struggling. The brief sanctuary on AOL didn't last. The rules for establishing your own Pern fandom group relaxed again to some extent in 2000. By 2001, I was one of two people who had been authorized by Anne McCaffrey to review new clubs and give them the stamp of approval or tell them that they were violating her copyright and what they needed to do to fix it. Today, I'm the only one, but it doesn't mean much now, since she essentially eliminated all the rules and said, "Do what you will, just don't make money on my intellectual property." But some people like to have that stamp of approval - and the opportunity to have a link to their group on her website.
StarRise, the group I had inherited, had been essentially inactive - not publishing its fanzine - for about three years at the point I took over. When I joined in 1990 or so, they had over 300 members, all around the world. When I took over and did a membership verification, we had 30 who responded. It was enough to go on with!
So I tried for a few years. There were some upsets, some highs and some lows, but eventually I had to admit that it was time to lay StarRise to sleep. I'd tried to change the form of the club to meet the current preference. I tried to make the fanzine an online-only publication. I tried to include live-chat RPs, and email RPs. I even tried eliminating the fanzine altogether and published stories as I received them on a story-only mailing list. Nothing worked. Life had moved on. It was time for StarRise to retire, and my heart broke at the loss.
About a year and a half ago, a friend approached me and said that she and a long-ago member of StarRise were going to start it again. I horned in on their co-leadership and made it a trio. :) What can I say? I'm possessive!
I'd tried co-leadership before. They failed miserably. I tried a board of directors, which became all the rage in Pern group leadership back in the mid-1990s. Failed abysmally, as far as I was concerned. But this triad...we fit.
We reduced the number of zines we produce a year from the original four, to two. With our busy adult lives, it's much easier for us and all our members to manage. We scheduled our deadlines to not interfere with school starts or ends, Christmas, or other major family holiday things, something that had been a problem before. We set firm deadlines, and we've stuck to them. Our first two zines were published on time, and our third is in the works now, with a publish date of March 1st. We'll make that date, too. StarRise is alive again, and my heart sings for it!
Why have I come to dwell today on StarRise, Pern fandom, and the history of both? I suppose it's because yesterday morning I officially shut down another writing group I'd started with a friend. It was a Pern group; it was ElfQuest based. But shutting it down, admitting I didn't have the time to nurture and grow it, reminded me of that hard decision I made for StarRise several years ago. Of that hard decision I made for several Pern groups over the years. I'm sad to give up Westering Holt. I love my characters there, and the ongoing stories I was weaving for them. I'll miss the interaction with other members, and writing with them. But most, I think, I regret my failure to keep the group active.
I started out this post with the intent to compare Pern fandom writers with fanfic writers, but the history of Pern fandom and StarRise took over. Now I'm not so much interested in comparing the two - other than saying readers of fanfic are a LOT more likely to give you feedback on your story than Pern fandom readers do. But then again - if Pern fandom readers like your story, they pounce you and say, "Hey, wanna do a story with your character and mine? I have a great idea!"
I guess that's even a better compliment to the writer, isn't it? :)
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The Beauty in Blindness
I am an insomniac. According to my mother, I’ve been one since I was a child. Generally, it’s not a case of being unable to stay asleep that’s the problem Getting the mind to calm enough to allow for sleep is the issue. Taking night classes that are interesting is a guarantee that midnight will no longer be my ‘oh, crap’ bedtime. It’s going to become 1:00 a.m., or later. Earlier?
Last night, however, I did try to force myself to go to bed by 12:30 a.m. I should know better. If my brain hasn’t slowed down enough to sleep, all I end up doing is tossing and turning and following the meandering paths of whatever thoughts pop into my head. One of last night’s thoughts was: if I have lasik surgery, I won’t see the beauty in the blindness anymore.
I am not blind, as it is traditionally defined. I can see. My vision is easily corrected with glasses or contact lenses. But without that assistance, I would be deemed legally blind. When I was sixteen, I asked my optometrist, “How bad am I?” His response was a little startling. “You don’t want to know.” Without glasses or contacts, I could generally manage to live in my own home, unassisted. I wouldn’t be able to watch television. Reading would be manageable, even if my nose would almost be touching the page. I would not be able to cross the street, or drive. My job options would be limited.
But I still hesitate over getting lasik surgery. Why? Because there is a beauty in blindness that would be lost. Perhaps someone who was completely blind and did not know color or shape as perceived by those who are visually unimpaired would miss the extra depth their other senses provide to compensate for the lack of sight. Music may be beautiful for them since they have to concentrate on sound so much, and they hear more in the music than those of us distracted by the visual stimulation. Is Tim McGraw as talented to a blind person as he is to a sighted person, when they can’t see the appeal of his physical appearance?
For me, the beauty I think I would miss would be the lights. With corrected vision, a street lamp is just a street lamp. A point of brightness on a dark night, that sheds light. When I take off my glasses, however, that street light becomes a thing of beauty. It becomes a living entity, a being of crystalline and delicate wonder. It expands and contracts, fine lines of light radiating out, surrounded by the background darkness. It’s outer edge is spiked, and curving looks connect each radiating spoke. It’s magical and mystical and utterly beautiful – well beyond my skill to describe accurately. Christmas time and the lights on the tree make a far more festive gathering of these fairy globes.
Without my glasses I cannot see the stars. The moon is a vague, roundish blur to me. A person’s face is a smudge, and oncoming cars blend with the background until they’re almost fatally close. Peripheral vision is non-existent, and applying make-up is awkward, if not impossible. Contacts correct the weaknesses of glasses, but bring their own host of problems. They get dry. God help you if you have an eyelash or dust get into your eye. Rewetting drops wash away eyeshadow and can cause mascara to smear.
Without my glasses, or contacts, I see the beauty in a street light.
Last night, however, I did try to force myself to go to bed by 12:30 a.m. I should know better. If my brain hasn’t slowed down enough to sleep, all I end up doing is tossing and turning and following the meandering paths of whatever thoughts pop into my head. One of last night’s thoughts was: if I have lasik surgery, I won’t see the beauty in the blindness anymore.
I am not blind, as it is traditionally defined. I can see. My vision is easily corrected with glasses or contact lenses. But without that assistance, I would be deemed legally blind. When I was sixteen, I asked my optometrist, “How bad am I?” His response was a little startling. “You don’t want to know.” Without glasses or contacts, I could generally manage to live in my own home, unassisted. I wouldn’t be able to watch television. Reading would be manageable, even if my nose would almost be touching the page. I would not be able to cross the street, or drive. My job options would be limited.
But I still hesitate over getting lasik surgery. Why? Because there is a beauty in blindness that would be lost. Perhaps someone who was completely blind and did not know color or shape as perceived by those who are visually unimpaired would miss the extra depth their other senses provide to compensate for the lack of sight. Music may be beautiful for them since they have to concentrate on sound so much, and they hear more in the music than those of us distracted by the visual stimulation. Is Tim McGraw as talented to a blind person as he is to a sighted person, when they can’t see the appeal of his physical appearance?
For me, the beauty I think I would miss would be the lights. With corrected vision, a street lamp is just a street lamp. A point of brightness on a dark night, that sheds light. When I take off my glasses, however, that street light becomes a thing of beauty. It becomes a living entity, a being of crystalline and delicate wonder. It expands and contracts, fine lines of light radiating out, surrounded by the background darkness. It’s outer edge is spiked, and curving looks connect each radiating spoke. It’s magical and mystical and utterly beautiful – well beyond my skill to describe accurately. Christmas time and the lights on the tree make a far more festive gathering of these fairy globes.
Without my glasses I cannot see the stars. The moon is a vague, roundish blur to me. A person’s face is a smudge, and oncoming cars blend with the background until they’re almost fatally close. Peripheral vision is non-existent, and applying make-up is awkward, if not impossible. Contacts correct the weaknesses of glasses, but bring their own host of problems. They get dry. God help you if you have an eyelash or dust get into your eye. Rewetting drops wash away eyeshadow and can cause mascara to smear.
Without my glasses, or contacts, I see the beauty in a street light.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
About the blog title...
I've been a bit of a gypsy for the last 16 years or so. It's a running joke among my friends, especially since my philosophy on moving is, "If it doesn't fit in the car, it doesn't go." Even my mother won't write my address down in pen. :) Once, in a moment of anger, my sister accused me of having no home.
In my many wanderings, I've found that 'home' isn't a physical place. It's people. Home are the friends you make, the family that you're tied to by blood, and the family that you choose as you move through life. The world is my home, because the world holds the people that mean the most to me, scattered to the four winds and almost never within a reasonable geographical distance.
A couple of years ago, I came across the song that had the blog title's line in it. It seemed apt in describing me. Don't be puzzled if you don't recognize the song or the artist. Neither are mainstream! :) But just in case you're curious, here are the lyrics:
"A Gypsy's Home"
lyrics and vocals by Heather Alexander
Don't tell a gypsy she has no home,
For the land is mine wherever I roam.
To a single place I may not return,
For a gypsy's home is where the heart will burn.
For the road is wide and the sky is tall,
And before I die I will see it all.
Yes, the road is wide and the sky is tall
And before I die I will see it all.
Don't tell a gypsy she has no heart
Though my eyes are dry when we needs must part.
For the gift of love I will give you free.
It will last forever between you and me.
For the road is wide and the sky is tall,
And before I die I will see it all.
Yes, the road is wide and the sky is tall
And before I die I will see it all.
Don't tell a gypsy she has no soul
Though my path will tread where the heathen's stroll.
If you walk a day that is bright and fair,
When you kiss the wind you will find me there.
For the road is wide and the sky is tall,
And before I die I will see it all.
Yes, the road is wide and the sky is tall
And before I die I will see it all.
In my many wanderings, I've found that 'home' isn't a physical place. It's people. Home are the friends you make, the family that you're tied to by blood, and the family that you choose as you move through life. The world is my home, because the world holds the people that mean the most to me, scattered to the four winds and almost never within a reasonable geographical distance.
A couple of years ago, I came across the song that had the blog title's line in it. It seemed apt in describing me. Don't be puzzled if you don't recognize the song or the artist. Neither are mainstream! :) But just in case you're curious, here are the lyrics:
"A Gypsy's Home"
lyrics and vocals by Heather Alexander
Don't tell a gypsy she has no home,
For the land is mine wherever I roam.
To a single place I may not return,
For a gypsy's home is where the heart will burn.
For the road is wide and the sky is tall,
And before I die I will see it all.
Yes, the road is wide and the sky is tall
And before I die I will see it all.
Don't tell a gypsy she has no heart
Though my eyes are dry when we needs must part.
For the gift of love I will give you free.
It will last forever between you and me.
For the road is wide and the sky is tall,
And before I die I will see it all.
Yes, the road is wide and the sky is tall
And before I die I will see it all.
Don't tell a gypsy she has no soul
Though my path will tread where the heathen's stroll.
If you walk a day that is bright and fair,
When you kiss the wind you will find me there.
For the road is wide and the sky is tall,
And before I die I will see it all.
Yes, the road is wide and the sky is tall
And before I die I will see it all.
Semester Beginnings and Blogs
Each semester that begins brings a range of emotions. Uncertainty. How does this instructor grade? How demanding will she be? Will it be an easy class, or a hard one? How much time will it take? What if I don't understand the material? Eagerness. It's a chance to learn something new. It's a beginning, which always has its own rush of energy and enthusiasm. It's an opportunity to meet new people and make new friends. Annoyance. Textbooks are outrageously expensive. it's such a rush and bother to get everything lined up and ready for that first day. It's a hassle, and time missed at work, getting all those minute details taken care of during operating hours - which are the same hours you're at work.
I both hate and love the first day of class. I hate it because there's so much that has to be done, so much to get ready for. I love it because it's interesting to see what I'll be learning, what challenges I'll need to meet over the next four months.
One of those challenges is starting a blog. I'm not a good blogger. For many years now, several of my friends have tried to get me to blog on livejournal.com. I've had an account here for quite a while. My blogging, however, has been erratic. I have this mental resistance to the idea. So many people seem to use it as the one-stop update for all their friends, and so friendships devolve from daily or weekly conversations on the phone or via IM to a generalized form letter posted in a blog. The immediacy and intimacy of a one-on-one conversation is removed and the connection with the friend starts to fade. There's no longer anything special about the friendship; you begin to feel you're just one of many and your relationship means nothing more to the blogger than any of their other friendships do.
This isn't the case. Your head will tell you it's not true. But emotions seldom listen to logic.
Blogging is efficient and convenient. For this class, it should be quite interesting since none of us know each other. But I can't say I would recommend it as a way to keep friendships alive and thriving. :)
I both hate and love the first day of class. I hate it because there's so much that has to be done, so much to get ready for. I love it because it's interesting to see what I'll be learning, what challenges I'll need to meet over the next four months.
One of those challenges is starting a blog. I'm not a good blogger. For many years now, several of my friends have tried to get me to blog on livejournal.com. I've had an account here for quite a while. My blogging, however, has been erratic. I have this mental resistance to the idea. So many people seem to use it as the one-stop update for all their friends, and so friendships devolve from daily or weekly conversations on the phone or via IM to a generalized form letter posted in a blog. The immediacy and intimacy of a one-on-one conversation is removed and the connection with the friend starts to fade. There's no longer anything special about the friendship; you begin to feel you're just one of many and your relationship means nothing more to the blogger than any of their other friendships do.
This isn't the case. Your head will tell you it's not true. But emotions seldom listen to logic.
Blogging is efficient and convenient. For this class, it should be quite interesting since none of us know each other. But I can't say I would recommend it as a way to keep friendships alive and thriving. :)
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