On Friday night I decided to completely close my bedroom window. It tends to be the warmest room in the house and although I like my climes warm I like to sleep slightly cool. So I usually have my window open a crack throughout the year. It got frikkin freezing enough on Friday that I closed it.
Or tried to. But the wood is warped with the cold. All that west coast moisture that seeps into everything has now expanded as it turned to ice and I could only, mostly, close the window. Likewise, I could only partly open the door under our front stairs where the garbage is stored. Luckily it was enough to get my head and arm in to toss the offending scraps.
This morning (Saturday though technically it's 12:10 am) I washed my face and put clothes in the washer. All good, but when I went to rinse dishes in the kitchen there was no hot water. Not just water that's gone cold but no water period, though I had the cold water well enough. My earlier fear of pipes freezing had come true.
My landlord and I put a heater in the cupboard and I walked up to the drive to meet a client and do some shopping. I now have a new appreciation for what it was like living on the farm in the 1900s and having to pile wood on the stove. You'd wear tights and socks and shirts and sweaters, and shawls, piling layer on layer to just keep warm. No care to how weirdly street person like you look.
If I'd been a guy, by the end of my walk today I would have been a woman because the proverbial brass balls had fallen off the monkey. I walked so quickly (uphill) to the Drive that I sweated and pulled off my cat paw mitts, unbuttoned the top button of my melton wool coat and loosened my woven silk scarf. I kept my hat on my head but when I met my client I took off my coat, unbuttoned the sweater and took off the hat.
By the end of the meeting, before we had even left I was putting on my hat, then buttoning my sweater, then putting on my coat. The sweat had cooled on my body by the time I walked to the bank, then to the post office. Not too bad...bearable if not freezing. But then I walked down to the market, carrying the parcel and the two bottles of wine from the liquor store (it may be an economic downturn but you can't tell from the empty shelves in the store...or maybe you can). I bought veggies and began the trek home. Two blocks and my right foot was completely numb with cold.
Not to mention I'd been cold in the liquour store and never warmed up. I stopped in the chocolate store, partially to thaw. My foot was hurting by then. But I didn't mind the wait in the store. I depopsiclized. I got home and it was positively balmy in comparison. And hooray, the water was working again.
Tonight I drove to a friend's yule party in New West. Fine weather but freakin' freezing. I left at 8:30 to go to a party in Kits and it had warmed up enought to not need mitts in the car. I picked up my friends along the way and we were there by about 9:15. Just as it began to snow. That's snow on top of snow and ice, with below freezing temperatures, that we've had for a week, in Vancouver. Where it never or just barely every snows!
Guess what? Coldest day ever! in one hundred years! That means since they start recording temperatures and I guess hell has frozen over because this sure feels like hell. So now it's 12:20. I made reasonably good time though all, and I mean ALL the roads are coated with snow. Anyone driving had windows covered with snow because it was falling faster than a heater could melt it. But I made it without incident.
Hunkered down. Grinchly grumpy about the stuff I moved away from Alberta to avoid. Sad that I won't be making it to my friend's memorial tomorrow because I won't be able to get through the snow. But grateful we're whole and we all made it in one piece and that everyone was driving sanely.
Addendum: It's Sunday noon, and it's still snowing! There must be a foot by now and no end in site. I didn't order this. Waaaaaah!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
T'is the Season
...for gross consumerism. Once upon a time it used to be that Christmas began in December and actually meant something spiritual. (I'm picking on the Christian, sort of, holiday because I don't know if other faiths go mass market this time of year.) Then stores decided it was best to put out all the seasonally afflicted merchandise at the beginning of the month. Soon, it seemed like a smart thing to put out the holiday decorations right after US Thanksgiving. Get all the turkey, fall and feasting goods done with, then there is room on the shelves for the next festivity.
But someone decided that Thanksgiving wasn't big enough or didn't dent the shelves with related crap, so Christmas decorations and lights and cards started coming out after Hallowe'en. We're now two months before Christmas and that hasn't been enough. This year, I saw Christmas related crapola in stores in September. Soon, we'll have it year round.
This frantic marketing makes me less seasonally cheerful and downright grumpy. A festive occasion is just that, an occasion, not a year-long extravaganza. It takes the specialness of the time away when one is inundated with the same driveling songs for months, though I notice that the stores do hold off on the tunes or their employees would go postal. But seeing the ho ho ho bits and garlands and cards and hats and stockings and lights etc. really kills the feeling for me.
But what is at the root of all this? Obviously it's greed, and probably the whole fear around the economy has whipped store execs into a froth where they're pushing everything onto shelves early. Buy buy buy, more more more. Make it super duper very bright, large and festive and red and green. It's enough to make all the reindeer drink until their noses are red.
The problem is that our society is based on a consumerism that is supposed to always grow. Sell more cars, sell more clothes, sell more everything or we can't get bonuses and more money to buy more stuff. What happens when the quantity stays the same in consumer purchases? Take cars for example. You can't price them out of everyone's pocketbook, but there's another way around it. Make them so they don't last as long. A Model T Ford could run for fifty years but we're lucky now if we get cars that make it to ten years. Planned obsolescence. Printers are the same. They cost less than a hundred bucks to buy but the ink cartridges that you have to keep using (and therefore should be cheaper because of mass consumption) are $60-$80. Not because ink is that expensive but because the company has to make money. Some printers are designed to eat ink every time you turn them on so feasibly you could use up a cartridge without printing a page (I got rid of that one fairly quickly.)
What happens when we have enough, when growth stays the same? Or what happens when the baby boomers stop buying and the next gen buys less? Panic. Maybe the economy fireworks didn't have to happen right now but it was bound to happen sooner or later. I thankfully, have only worked for one company where "grow grow grow" was their motto mixed with a lack of understanding people. People left on stress leave and others were walked out the door almost regularly. I hear this company was bought by a company wich was bought by a company and that more changes are happening. I'd rather slide down razor blades into a vat of vinegar than work there again.
So be prepared. Those Boxing Day sales have become Boxing week sales and pre-Christmas/Boxing week sales. They're about to become Christmas month sales and yet there will be more and more and more stuff. Costco has mass Santa suits that you can buy for cheap. Now every little Santa will look the same. How sweet. And if you think that Santa at the North Pole is kept busy with all his elves working over time because of the mass merchandising, think again. The little fellas have been laid off to cut costs and because everything was farmed out to a third world nation where the kids get to toil for twenty hours a day. Ho ho ho, enjoy the consumerism.
But someone decided that Thanksgiving wasn't big enough or didn't dent the shelves with related crap, so Christmas decorations and lights and cards started coming out after Hallowe'en. We're now two months before Christmas and that hasn't been enough. This year, I saw Christmas related crapola in stores in September. Soon, we'll have it year round.
This frantic marketing makes me less seasonally cheerful and downright grumpy. A festive occasion is just that, an occasion, not a year-long extravaganza. It takes the specialness of the time away when one is inundated with the same driveling songs for months, though I notice that the stores do hold off on the tunes or their employees would go postal. But seeing the ho ho ho bits and garlands and cards and hats and stockings and lights etc. really kills the feeling for me.
But what is at the root of all this? Obviously it's greed, and probably the whole fear around the economy has whipped store execs into a froth where they're pushing everything onto shelves early. Buy buy buy, more more more. Make it super duper very bright, large and festive and red and green. It's enough to make all the reindeer drink until their noses are red.
The problem is that our society is based on a consumerism that is supposed to always grow. Sell more cars, sell more clothes, sell more everything or we can't get bonuses and more money to buy more stuff. What happens when the quantity stays the same in consumer purchases? Take cars for example. You can't price them out of everyone's pocketbook, but there's another way around it. Make them so they don't last as long. A Model T Ford could run for fifty years but we're lucky now if we get cars that make it to ten years. Planned obsolescence. Printers are the same. They cost less than a hundred bucks to buy but the ink cartridges that you have to keep using (and therefore should be cheaper because of mass consumption) are $60-$80. Not because ink is that expensive but because the company has to make money. Some printers are designed to eat ink every time you turn them on so feasibly you could use up a cartridge without printing a page (I got rid of that one fairly quickly.)
What happens when we have enough, when growth stays the same? Or what happens when the baby boomers stop buying and the next gen buys less? Panic. Maybe the economy fireworks didn't have to happen right now but it was bound to happen sooner or later. I thankfully, have only worked for one company where "grow grow grow" was their motto mixed with a lack of understanding people. People left on stress leave and others were walked out the door almost regularly. I hear this company was bought by a company wich was bought by a company and that more changes are happening. I'd rather slide down razor blades into a vat of vinegar than work there again.
So be prepared. Those Boxing Day sales have become Boxing week sales and pre-Christmas/Boxing week sales. They're about to become Christmas month sales and yet there will be more and more and more stuff. Costco has mass Santa suits that you can buy for cheap. Now every little Santa will look the same. How sweet. And if you think that Santa at the North Pole is kept busy with all his elves working over time because of the mass merchandising, think again. The little fellas have been laid off to cut costs and because everything was farmed out to a third world nation where the kids get to toil for twenty hours a day. Ho ho ho, enjoy the consumerism.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Fashion Camouflage
Throughout humanity's history, we've used clothes for camouflage. I'm not talking about camo gear and leaf markings on your face to hide in the shadows while carrying out some special ops espionage. Although that is the most blatant aspect of camouflage it's not the most prevalent.
Besides the basics of keeping ourselves warm, we started to wear clothing for a host of other reasons. Ritualistically, masks, accessories and robes were donned to imitate a spirit or element or to make oneself pure or sacred in the eyes of the gods. Along the way standards of modesty and morality came in to play. Genitalia are a vulnerable area on most creatures, and for humans many other connotations are attached, such as virility, power, immortality, continuance of family. Religious aspects and beliefs, as well as just hiding something mysterious and scary (a woman's womb has often been related to the underworld) combined to cover the genital areas first.
In African countries, other warm climes, and throughout periods of history, women's breasts were not always considered erogenous, and therefore did not need covering. A period of Elizabethan dress had the decolletage so low that the nipples were visible. But that is more revealing than camouflaging.
Yet, we've used camouflage to enhance our bodies for a long time. Elizabethan men wore pads of horsehair to give the right line to their calves under their hose, as well as padding to form the preferred peascod bellies. And then there were those codpieces to make the genitals look way larger than they were. Women wore corsets to slim their waists, or bustles on the backs of dresses to enhance the womanly shape. Shoes of varying heights have been worn to convey status or make a person taller.
We do the same today. Slimline jeans with no pockets to show off the curves and line of a woman's leg and hip. Padded and uplift bras to make the breasts look larger, men's underwear (and chaps) that may shape and define the genitals or butt, (some of this for gay culture but not all), tuxes or other James Bond jackets for that sophisiticated, I-have-plenty-of-money look.
Makeup, since at least the Egyptians, has also been used for enhancement or to comouflage plainness, blemishes, birthmarks, or whatever reason was required. Wigs and toupees have been worn for many centuries as status symbols, to change one's looks, to make it look like a person had hair. It's not a new thing and most people do look better in clothes because they cover up all sorts of imperfections. Fashion can highlight a person's good points, change the line that the eye follows so that a person looks taller, broader, slimmer, bustier, etc.
Until we hit the day that we have our own heat generating forcefields, have tossed vanity and modesty to the side and do not need possessions or adornment, I think humans will continue to dress in a myriad of fashions, as well as camouflaging what is not seen as the current trend and fashion for bodies and looks. The realm of phsical changes has its own history, but that's for another day. We may yet hit again a look where flat chested, twiggy and adrogynous shapes are considered sexy and then the padded bras and fitted clothing will disappear...for awhile.
Monday, November 10, 2008
World Fantasy Convention 2008: Calgary
World Fantasy took place in Calgary's downtown at the Hyatt Regency Oct. 30-Nov. 1. Although the hotel had an exceptional collection of paintings and heavily focused ungulate statuary everywhere, it was still a very expensive hotel. I haven't been in a hotel in the US in the past five years that charged for internet and $1 for local calls. Internet cost $14 a day, an exorbitant fee, and the hotel price was high even at convention rates. We found Calgary pricey for food but cheap for alcohol, if you were buying it in stores but comparably priced to Vancouver in the hotel.
The con hospitality suites were smaller than I have seen at other cons and the air conditioning (hardly needed in Oct. in Calgary) was on high for most of the convention. The dealers room and art show were also small. From one discussion with a Seattle antiquarian dealer, the hoops and paperwork besides shipping costs are prohibitive and discourage international exchanges. The dealers room did have an interesting array of publishers. Some of them were Redjack, Fitzhenry/Red Deer Press, Tachyon, Edge, Talebones/Fairwood Press, OnSpec, Electric Velocipede, SFC table of members' work, Sunburst awards, used and new booksellers, and other dealers that I don't remember off hand.
The dealers room used to feature books and some jewellery. This is a professional convention of editors, publishers and authors (and some fans as well) and fan paraphernalia is not allowed. The books are still there but the jewellery is not. It seems the WFC board has put a stop to it after so many years because it is a "serious" convention. I let them know that quite a few of us "pros" enjoyed buying our piece of con jewellery over the years and that we missed it. Does serious mean no fun? After all, the jewellery could be juried to fit certain criteria as well.
As often is the case with these cons, I get to few or no panels. I went to one on Friday and then left halfway through to see another. Unfortunately both were clunky, with no real flow and very short to no answers by the pros on the panel.
Saturday, I missed half of one, which had George R.R. Martin, Tad Williams and Steve Erickson talking about killing significant characters in a novel. They may have been more focused in the first half but it wasn't bad for flow and was funny. Tad Williams, one of the special guests and emcee for the World Fantasy awards is a very funny guy.
The other panel I attended was "Why do we write dark fiction?" with Graham Joyce, Nancy Kilpatrick and David Morrell. It was moderated well by Nancy and thought provoking. Very interesting panel that had many of us thinking of their childhoods and surreal experiences.
Because this is long, I'll continue tomorrow with more on WFC.
The con hospitality suites were smaller than I have seen at other cons and the air conditioning (hardly needed in Oct. in Calgary) was on high for most of the convention. The dealers room and art show were also small. From one discussion with a Seattle antiquarian dealer, the hoops and paperwork besides shipping costs are prohibitive and discourage international exchanges. The dealers room did have an interesting array of publishers. Some of them were Redjack, Fitzhenry/Red Deer Press, Tachyon, Edge, Talebones/Fairwood Press, OnSpec, Electric Velocipede, SFC table of members' work, Sunburst awards, used and new booksellers, and other dealers that I don't remember off hand.
The dealers room used to feature books and some jewellery. This is a professional convention of editors, publishers and authors (and some fans as well) and fan paraphernalia is not allowed. The books are still there but the jewellery is not. It seems the WFC board has put a stop to it after so many years because it is a "serious" convention. I let them know that quite a few of us "pros" enjoyed buying our piece of con jewellery over the years and that we missed it. Does serious mean no fun? After all, the jewellery could be juried to fit certain criteria as well.
As often is the case with these cons, I get to few or no panels. I went to one on Friday and then left halfway through to see another. Unfortunately both were clunky, with no real flow and very short to no answers by the pros on the panel.
Saturday, I missed half of one, which had George R.R. Martin, Tad Williams and Steve Erickson talking about killing significant characters in a novel. They may have been more focused in the first half but it wasn't bad for flow and was funny. Tad Williams, one of the special guests and emcee for the World Fantasy awards is a very funny guy.
The other panel I attended was "Why do we write dark fiction?" with Graham Joyce, Nancy Kilpatrick and David Morrell. It was moderated well by Nancy and thought provoking. Very interesting panel that had many of us thinking of their childhoods and surreal experiences.
Because this is long, I'll continue tomorrow with more on WFC.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Teenage Sex and Teachers
When I was in high school we had this drama teacher. Big at emoting; surprise surprise. There were a range of us, from those who wanted to be there acting to those who were slacking with an easy elective class. I was still shy but actually liked to act. One of the better "acting" students was, if anything, very dramatic. She and this teacher would emote at each other constantly, to the exclusion of the rest of us. In fact, he barely taught us at points because they were too busy googoo gaaing at each other.
Were they having sex? Most of us thought so. Did we care? Not really. I only cared because my instruction was suffering as this teacher gave one student who didn't need it all of his time. Were we scandalized? No. Presuming they did have some sort of affair, I have to say that 17-18 year-old girl definitely was cognizant of what she did, wanted it, hoped for it. She certainly wasn't coerced or influenced and may have manipulated the situation.
Hero worship, big daddy syndrome or whatever you want to call it has gone on for a very long time. Hollywood perpetuates it with leading men often 20 years older than the women. Only in a few cases have they (Hollywood) been brave enough to actually have a female lead older than the male. Harold and Maude is an example of a spring/winter relationship where friendship and personality does not see the boundaries of age. I've never had a problem with relationships where one person was significantly younger/older than the other.
A friend of mine is married to a man 18 years older, and friends of theirs just got married and there is nearly 30 years difference. I've dated men 15 years younger or older than me. What balances age? Attitude, similarities, wisdom, youthfulness and maturity.
A teacher in their 20s or 30s attracted to an 18-year-old isn't that odd in our society. Where the problem comes in, today at least, is that there is seen to be an imbalance of power. A teacher could in essence coerce a student into having sex with them for passing grades. This applies as well to colleges and universities. Such fraternization isn't just frowned on but basis for dismissal. Old movies are rife with college professors married to the young women they slept with, causing their first marriage to fail. Of course, a professor can also be blackmailed by a student in such a relationship.
There have been several cases of teachers being charged; sometimes with true grounds for sexual harassment. Sometimes the instructor was blackmailed or set up without any truth. There are people who will use any situation to manipulate and have power over someone. Doing an internet search will show that there are enough cases of teachers of both genders having sex with their students.
A female Burnaby teacher at St. Thomas More school is now under investigation for alleged relations with a grade 11 student. Tom Ellison was convicted with a conditional sentence for his sexual congress with 17 students (that he confessed to being with). Twelve of seventeen former students complained of their relations with him in the 70s. Because laws for any teacher having sex with a person under 18 regardless of consent were not passed until 1988, the sentence was of a lesser degree.
There are two aspects to teacher/professors having sex with students. The main one for both is the abuse of a position of authority. For school teachers it is also the issue of underage sex. There are definite cases of rape and sexual abuse, but there are also the nebulous cases and it becomes unclear who instigated and if a student would ever suffer ill effects from the sexual encounters with their teachers. The simplest way to keep it from getting ambiguous is the law as it stands:
Were they having sex? Most of us thought so. Did we care? Not really. I only cared because my instruction was suffering as this teacher gave one student who didn't need it all of his time. Were we scandalized? No. Presuming they did have some sort of affair, I have to say that 17-18 year-old girl definitely was cognizant of what she did, wanted it, hoped for it. She certainly wasn't coerced or influenced and may have manipulated the situation.
Hero worship, big daddy syndrome or whatever you want to call it has gone on for a very long time. Hollywood perpetuates it with leading men often 20 years older than the women. Only in a few cases have they (Hollywood) been brave enough to actually have a female lead older than the male. Harold and Maude is an example of a spring/winter relationship where friendship and personality does not see the boundaries of age. I've never had a problem with relationships where one person was significantly younger/older than the other.
A friend of mine is married to a man 18 years older, and friends of theirs just got married and there is nearly 30 years difference. I've dated men 15 years younger or older than me. What balances age? Attitude, similarities, wisdom, youthfulness and maturity.
A teacher in their 20s or 30s attracted to an 18-year-old isn't that odd in our society. Where the problem comes in, today at least, is that there is seen to be an imbalance of power. A teacher could in essence coerce a student into having sex with them for passing grades. This applies as well to colleges and universities. Such fraternization isn't just frowned on but basis for dismissal. Old movies are rife with college professors married to the young women they slept with, causing their first marriage to fail. Of course, a professor can also be blackmailed by a student in such a relationship.
There have been several cases of teachers being charged; sometimes with true grounds for sexual harassment. Sometimes the instructor was blackmailed or set up without any truth. There are people who will use any situation to manipulate and have power over someone. Doing an internet search will show that there are enough cases of teachers of both genders having sex with their students.
A female Burnaby teacher at St. Thomas More school is now under investigation for alleged relations with a grade 11 student. Tom Ellison was convicted with a conditional sentence for his sexual congress with 17 students (that he confessed to being with). Twelve of seventeen former students complained of their relations with him in the 70s. Because laws for any teacher having sex with a person under 18 regardless of consent were not passed until 1988, the sentence was of a lesser degree.
There are two aspects to teacher/professors having sex with students. The main one for both is the abuse of a position of authority. For school teachers it is also the issue of underage sex. There are definite cases of rape and sexual abuse, but there are also the nebulous cases and it becomes unclear who instigated and if a student would ever suffer ill effects from the sexual encounters with their teachers. The simplest way to keep it from getting ambiguous is the law as it stands:
The Criminal Code does not now criminalize consensual sexual activity with
or between persons 14 or over, unless it takes place in a relationship of trust
or dependency, in which case sexual activity with persons over 14 but under 18
can constitute an offence, notwithstanding their consent. Even consensual
activity with those under 14 but over 12 may not be an offence if the accused is
under 16 and less than two years older than the complainant. The exception, of
course, is anal intercourse, to which unmarried persons under 18 cannot legally
consent, although both the Ontario Court of Appeal(3)
and the Quebec Court of Appeal(4)
have struck down the relevant section of the Criminal Code.Blame can often be shared. There is a bigger difference of sex with a 14-year-old than with an 17-year-old. Coerced sex is never right but consensual sex gets iffy. Teachers are now being tried mostly on the basis that they are going against the law. If anyone asked me in a court of law if that high school classmate of long ago was coerced, I would definitely say not. But if the affair affected how we were being taught, I would definitely say yes. And if one had broken up with the other, there could have been blackmail. It's better to keep it black and white.
http://www.cbc.ca/canada/british-columbia/story/2007/01/26/bc-ellison.html
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Depression: The Invisible Battle
In the last decade there have been more books on depression and people talking openly. Although I think there can be a point of over-saturation, we're not there yet and more dialogue on depression will people help recognize and understand it better. There are still too many people who live under the black cloud of despair or more tragically, kill themselves out of depression.
I speak not from an outsider's point of view but from the intimate perspective of having suffered mild depression to full-blown clinical depression. The first time was probably in my twenties when my boyfriend of three years and I broke up. I moved to Vancouver and lived for another three years in a somewhat different personality. It was a bit kamikaze, reckless, unhappy and angry. I ended up going to my doctor who sent me to a psychiatrist. He determined that I was working my way out of the depression by that point and didn't put me on meds. That's pretty rare for psychiatrists who are married to the pharma industry. Psychologists aren't covered in Canada's medicare but psychiatrists are.
Perhaps I dipped into depression a few times after that but it was when I was dealing with my eating disorder that I was first put on anti-depressants. I can't say they changed my mood or state of mind but eventually it seems my brain chemistry balanced out and I stopped the binging and quit the meds.
In 2001 I had gone through a few things and had a boyfriend, but I was pretty poor and nothing seemed to be going right for me, My health was deteriorating, partly caused by a repetitive stress injury in the movie industry and now I was poor. Everything built up. I was freelancing but not full time so I'd go and work, then come home and crawl into bed. I forced myself to eat a bowl of soup a day. I couldn't deal with anything: answering the phone, changing a doctor's appointment, coming up with answers to questions. I cocooned for months. And then September 11th happened and that added to the fear and gloom. My elbow was also hurting and no amount of physiotherapy was helping. After many sessions the physiotherapist said she couldn't help anymore.
I went to my doctor with this symptom and she mentioned depression. I didn't want to see a psychiatrist because I don't think they do much (the last one when I had the eating disorder, didn't) and I didn't want to go on anti-depressants because they're hard on teeth and can cause increased cavities (less salivation occurs and bacteria builds up). I also argued that I had reasons to be depressed and listed them. My doctor said, true you can be depressed and have good reasons but it's not about the reasons but how you cope. In essence, I wasn't coping very well at all.
My doctor gave me a questionnaire to fill out and bring back. Of all the questions the only one I didn't have a dire answer to was the one about suicide. I've never been suicidal, not even when depressed. My doctor took one look at my answers and said, "You're going on medication." So I did and luckily she got me a compassionate prescription, which is free through the pharmaceutical companies because there was no way I could afford it and I would have stopped buying them,
Since that time I try to gauge where I'm at, watch my moods and feelings. But depression is a tricky thing. It doesn't always manifest the same way every time. Sometimes you can function but you can't eat. Sometimes you're just in physical pain that won't go away. Sometimes you are fine during the day and plummet every evening. Sometimes you can't eat or eat too much, can't sleep or sleep too much. For me, it's never been quite the same so it gets hard to know for sure.
I sometimes have to look back over a period of a year and see if I have shifted much. I try to catch it before it gets as bad as 2001. I don't like being in that space and everything is far too dark. I tend not to read or watch the news because the concentration and the repetition of the bad and horrid gets to me. Even the radio can be too much but I do like to know what's going on in the world.
Depression is not a physical ailment but it can become one. It can make people as sick as any disease and kill them. Understanding what a person may be going through will help people heal. Calling them crazy and whacked, which we all do, may describe their current state but it won't help them get better. Depression is a disease with varying symptoms and understanding will help those who have it and those who have to be around it.
I speak not from an outsider's point of view but from the intimate perspective of having suffered mild depression to full-blown clinical depression. The first time was probably in my twenties when my boyfriend of three years and I broke up. I moved to Vancouver and lived for another three years in a somewhat different personality. It was a bit kamikaze, reckless, unhappy and angry. I ended up going to my doctor who sent me to a psychiatrist. He determined that I was working my way out of the depression by that point and didn't put me on meds. That's pretty rare for psychiatrists who are married to the pharma industry. Psychologists aren't covered in Canada's medicare but psychiatrists are.
Perhaps I dipped into depression a few times after that but it was when I was dealing with my eating disorder that I was first put on anti-depressants. I can't say they changed my mood or state of mind but eventually it seems my brain chemistry balanced out and I stopped the binging and quit the meds.
In 2001 I had gone through a few things and had a boyfriend, but I was pretty poor and nothing seemed to be going right for me, My health was deteriorating, partly caused by a repetitive stress injury in the movie industry and now I was poor. Everything built up. I was freelancing but not full time so I'd go and work, then come home and crawl into bed. I forced myself to eat a bowl of soup a day. I couldn't deal with anything: answering the phone, changing a doctor's appointment, coming up with answers to questions. I cocooned for months. And then September 11th happened and that added to the fear and gloom. My elbow was also hurting and no amount of physiotherapy was helping. After many sessions the physiotherapist said she couldn't help anymore.
I went to my doctor with this symptom and she mentioned depression. I didn't want to see a psychiatrist because I don't think they do much (the last one when I had the eating disorder, didn't) and I didn't want to go on anti-depressants because they're hard on teeth and can cause increased cavities (less salivation occurs and bacteria builds up). I also argued that I had reasons to be depressed and listed them. My doctor said, true you can be depressed and have good reasons but it's not about the reasons but how you cope. In essence, I wasn't coping very well at all.
My doctor gave me a questionnaire to fill out and bring back. Of all the questions the only one I didn't have a dire answer to was the one about suicide. I've never been suicidal, not even when depressed. My doctor took one look at my answers and said, "You're going on medication." So I did and luckily she got me a compassionate prescription, which is free through the pharmaceutical companies because there was no way I could afford it and I would have stopped buying them,
Since that time I try to gauge where I'm at, watch my moods and feelings. But depression is a tricky thing. It doesn't always manifest the same way every time. Sometimes you can function but you can't eat. Sometimes you're just in physical pain that won't go away. Sometimes you are fine during the day and plummet every evening. Sometimes you can't eat or eat too much, can't sleep or sleep too much. For me, it's never been quite the same so it gets hard to know for sure.
I sometimes have to look back over a period of a year and see if I have shifted much. I try to catch it before it gets as bad as 2001. I don't like being in that space and everything is far too dark. I tend not to read or watch the news because the concentration and the repetition of the bad and horrid gets to me. Even the radio can be too much but I do like to know what's going on in the world.
Depression is not a physical ailment but it can become one. It can make people as sick as any disease and kill them. Understanding what a person may be going through will help people heal. Calling them crazy and whacked, which we all do, may describe their current state but it won't help them get better. Depression is a disease with varying symptoms and understanding will help those who have it and those who have to be around it.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Writing: Things to Watch Out For
Below is listed an ad, which was reposted to a writer's list I'm on. Markets like this disturb me for several reasons. Albeit many short story markets only pay about $100 these days (some pay more and some less), but to actually pay only $100 for a 30,000 word story amounts to highway robbery on the publisher's part. One cent a word for that length would equal $300. You do the math on just how little you're getting paid. Of course, if you write the low end 1,500 word story you'll get about .07 a word.
Article writers get paid on average between .75 and $1.25 a word. SFWA says that professional rates for speculative fiction should be at least .05 a word. That would be $1,500. Now I've sometimes sent my stories to places that pay .03 cents or so. I'm still a fairly no name writer and there are many many writers out there. But there comes a point when you have to figure out what you'll prostitute yourself for, and I won't sell myself as cheap as below.
That low payment could fall into acceptable but what really gets me is that this publisher is asking for all rights. I don't know if this includes moral rights and I've talked about how that is the last right anyone should ever give up, but even so, they want all rights. For $100. Wow. That's not just first anthology rights or first electronic print rights, or first North American rights. That's all rights. Which means you can never sell your story again, never get more money to make up for the measly hundred bucks these guys gave you to steal all your rights. You pretty much don't own your story anymore.
If you work for a company and write on their dime, they in essence own all rights. However you still have moral rights in that you are credited with the work, unless you sign those away. Considering the big grab that these guys are doing, I wouldn't put it past them to take moral rights too. And all rights means that they could turn your piece into a film and you wouldn't get a penny, or they could hack it up to read like drek and you'd have no say.
Now sometimes these things are worded badly because new publishers don't understand which rights they should ask for. But I find that the statements about "if you're a new writer" tell me they know pros will not submit to such a place. As well, they do warn you that if you aren't happy with all rights being taken, then don't submit. There are other huge media magazines that buy all rights. The Cricket (Carus publishing) and related childrens' magazines are one. However, they tend to pay more and I don't really submit to them either.
The problem with all of this is that you get magazines and publishers who often say, we can't pay you anything. We do it for love and you have the privilege of getting your work published. However, the flip side is that they have the privilege of publishing your work and without writers they would have no magazine. If they find writing of worth, then they should pay what they think it's worth. I think it's okay for a new magazine to start small, not pay much but aspire to hoping to pay more for stories as they grow. I understand that people want to put out magazines and with the internet it's much easier, but everyone who can should be paying for the work. I too want to start a magazine one day but I won't do it until I know I can pay at least .03 a word to start. I don't want to dishonor writers, of which I'm one.
Writers are always the last to be paid, the ones that are often stinted in how much they get as well. Opulence magazine for which I wrote some articles, did the same thing; ripping off their writers and not paying them for years while the fat cats at the helm got glossier cars and homes. I've written about Opulence elsewhere. Of course individual magazines have to either get grants or raise funds through subscriptions and advertising. Still, writers should not be the ones that get less because all the other costs are more.
Oh and Vincent Hobbes, the novelist? Well, it seems the only writing he has done has been published by Hobbes End (one book) and there is very little information on this publisher. So Vincent published his own work and made a company. That makes me doubly cautious. But each person has their own brain. It's up to every writer just how little they think their work is worth. Of course, if I said each of my stories was worth a million bucks, and that's all I'd accept, I'd still be waiting to publish my first piece.
Novelist Vincent Hobbes is seeking short stories for an upcoming project which will feature a compilation of strange and bizarre stories. His publisher is currently accepting submissions from any author interested in
having his or her work published in a novel.Manuscripts being accepted will include anything from the following fiction genres:
Horror
Supernatural
Science-fiction
Fantasy
Psychological thriller
MysteryRequirements: Word count may be anything from 1,500-30,000 words. We are seeking stories that are original and not previously published. Interesting storylines with a preferable twist at the end to captivate the reader is desired. Think Twilight Zone. All stories must be tasteful-not overly gory, no inappropriate sex scenes, or an over use of profanity.
All submissions must adhere to the following guidelines:
Single-spaced 12-point font, Times New Roman Cover sheet must be included with all proper contact information
Whether you are a new author seeking to promote yourself, or simply someone who wants your family and friends to read your story in a published and widely distributed piece of literature, this is a rare opportunity to have your name and story published.You may submit your story via mail or electronically. Details are as follows:
If mailed, send copy to:
Hobbes End Publishing, LLCIf sent electronically, send to:
publisher@hobbesendpublishing.com
Attn: Short Story Submission (subject line)Deadline is October 1st, 2008
Terms: Full rights, both printing and media, will be purchased outright for $100.00 per story. Therefore, it will be un-publishable elsewhere without express permission from the publisher. Any author who does not agree to such terms, please do not submit your work for this project. Also, the best story will receive a bonus from the publisher.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Fall and Farmer's Markets
On Saturday I suffered the pain of a mammogram. For some people it doesn't hurt and for some, like me, it's excruciating. The attitude of the technician was as if I was being a petulant child and causing a ruckus because the plate had "barely touched" me. I most assuredly was not and the fact that my breast and arm are still sore can be attributed to that. I'd like to clamp that woman's breast as hard as mine were and see if she didn't squeal in pain. Meh.
Anyways, on the way home I stopped by the Farmer's Market at Trout Lake park. It's a combo of bakery items, olives, jewellery, pottery, cutting boards, cheese, meats, vegetables and fruits. There are some repeats along the veggie lines but some variety from one to the other. I still find it pretty hard to pay $2 for four carrots though. Everything is supposed to be organic, from the beef to the beets.
I don't get to the market often but I like to get items I can't normally get, or in the case of tomatoes, something with tastes. Whether hothouse grown or not, tomatoes these days have no flavor. They're red globes of water so I definitely buy organic. I have a cherry tomato plant growing at the front of the yard and it's getting quite a few fruits now, somewhat late due to the cool year. But I also bought some cherry tomatoes at the market, with dark red and green streaks. They are very tasty.
I bought a smoked turkey haunch (something I can't get usually), some crimini mushrooms, a variety of Italian squashes and zucchini, and a pair of earrings with lampworked beads. The market is in a parking lot with many people talking, musicians playing, dogs barking and a few people on their cell phones. I was one, talking to my friend about the evening, while I looked at the jewellery, when this woman beside me burst out, "Oh for heaven's sake!"
I looked up and she said, "I came here to get away from cell phones," and stormed off. Well, lady, I came here to get away from judgmental people. Yeesh, what business was it of hers. I wasn't driving (thank god) and there was enough ambient noise for everyone. There certainly was no sign that said, only barefoot hippies in homespun with no technology allowed. It didn't ruin my day.
When I got home I took notice of the changing leaves. That fall chill is already in the air. The apple tree in the back yard is dropping its apples. We never eat them because they're a 100-year-old variety that tends to be soft and mushy. My landlady takes them to the deer on Galliano Island. The pear tree, also 100 years old, developed rust a couple of years ago and now produces fewer, blighted pears. The plum tree has already seen its season come and go. The strawberries are on another burst and producing more fruit. Daisies, echinacea and gladiolas are getting ready to bloom. In some areas they already have. My neighbor has these huge, head-sized dahlias in amazing colors.
So fall is not yet here but the leaves are turning a bit, and others are just going brown. If we continue to get some more sun, like this last week, it will extend the growing period. I'm hoping for this because it's been such a wet and cold year. The longer we can hold back the wintry weather, the better. Though like I said, that chill is already in the air in the mornings. And fall has not officially arrived quite yet.
Anyways, on the way home I stopped by the Farmer's Market at Trout Lake park. It's a combo of bakery items, olives, jewellery, pottery, cutting boards, cheese, meats, vegetables and fruits. There are some repeats along the veggie lines but some variety from one to the other. I still find it pretty hard to pay $2 for four carrots though. Everything is supposed to be organic, from the beef to the beets.
I don't get to the market often but I like to get items I can't normally get, or in the case of tomatoes, something with tastes. Whether hothouse grown or not, tomatoes these days have no flavor. They're red globes of water so I definitely buy organic. I have a cherry tomato plant growing at the front of the yard and it's getting quite a few fruits now, somewhat late due to the cool year. But I also bought some cherry tomatoes at the market, with dark red and green streaks. They are very tasty.
I bought a smoked turkey haunch (something I can't get usually), some crimini mushrooms, a variety of Italian squashes and zucchini, and a pair of earrings with lampworked beads. The market is in a parking lot with many people talking, musicians playing, dogs barking and a few people on their cell phones. I was one, talking to my friend about the evening, while I looked at the jewellery, when this woman beside me burst out, "Oh for heaven's sake!"
I looked up and she said, "I came here to get away from cell phones," and stormed off. Well, lady, I came here to get away from judgmental people. Yeesh, what business was it of hers. I wasn't driving (thank god) and there was enough ambient noise for everyone. There certainly was no sign that said, only barefoot hippies in homespun with no technology allowed. It didn't ruin my day.
When I got home I took notice of the changing leaves. That fall chill is already in the air. The apple tree in the back yard is dropping its apples. We never eat them because they're a 100-year-old variety that tends to be soft and mushy. My landlady takes them to the deer on Galliano Island. The pear tree, also 100 years old, developed rust a couple of years ago and now produces fewer, blighted pears. The plum tree has already seen its season come and go. The strawberries are on another burst and producing more fruit. Daisies, echinacea and gladiolas are getting ready to bloom. In some areas they already have. My neighbor has these huge, head-sized dahlias in amazing colors.
So fall is not yet here but the leaves are turning a bit, and others are just going brown. If we continue to get some more sun, like this last week, it will extend the growing period. I'm hoping for this because it's been such a wet and cold year. The longer we can hold back the wintry weather, the better. Though like I said, that chill is already in the air in the mornings. And fall has not officially arrived quite yet.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Piercing Situations
Somehow yesterday I got thinking about my piercings. When I was sixteen I had my ears pierced. What might have been unusual about this was that my family doctor did it. I doubt anyone would think of going to their GP these days or even that one might consider piercing someone's ears, but when I had mine done it was only the nasty piercing guns that blasted away some of the flesh on the way through. I went in and my doctor put a bit of freezing on my lobes, then poked a needle through.
I walked around with loops of surgical thread (thick surgical thread) through my ears for weeks. When I finally put earrings in I had these little diamond (quartz/rhinestone really) studs. And then I suffered as the cheap earrings flaked off into my ears and if I didn't already have it I developed a nickel allergy. My ears puffed up and turned red and crusty. Pretty icky. I eventually bought some silver rings and put those in.
This first piercing experience and the loops of thread reminded me of being in Nepal, seeing the young girls (as early as four) walking around with small pieces of wood keeping their earholes open. Since many people are poor I presumed that they couldn't yet afford rings for their girl's ears but pierced ears were so much part of Nepalese culture.
And that's just it. Poking things into or through our skin, or decorating it has been something we've been doing since humanity first grabbed that shiny or bright object and started designing. Other cultures have laced things through their noses and lips and chests and genitalia. North American counter culture picked up the piercing traditions of many tribal and African countries. So no matter how trendy, on the edge, neo-goth, punk, burlesque, tribal we've made ourselves here, there was someone else who did it first, probably centuries earlier.
The second time I had one ear pierced, I was not the first, not even in Calgary. I was one of the very few though, especially in Calgary. And that piercing was done with a gun. Ouch. Took a year to heal. Then I went to India where I entertained having my nose pierced, not with the stud through the nostril flesh, but a ring through the septum. I didn't get that done but when I came back I ended up having my other ear pierced again. So I have two holes, close together on the left ear. The right ear has two holes but the second is right before the upper curve.
About three or four years ago I saw a friend in the States who I hadn't seen in a while. She had this really cute diamond stud above her lip, like a beauty mark. It looked great on her and on a spur of the moment kind of thing (with a bit of research on studios) I went in and had a Monroe piercing done. Of all the piercings this one was the most irritating and if I had known the nuisance it would be, I probably wouldn't have had it done. It's also a bad one for wearing at teeth though I haven't had that problem yet.
The piercing itself did not hurt but I kept catching the back on my teeth and pulling it through the flesh. It seems I have an especially thin lip and went in for downsizing three times while it healed. Again the piercing didn't hurt but my gums were so sore for the first week or two, from the stud back (a flat piece) rubbing up and down any time I talked or moved my mouth. Before I finally had the final size (and mine is shorter than most other people's) I would still catch the stud on my teeth. A very disconcerting feeling.
The other annoyance was that any time you have a piercing right on the front of your face, your fingers get in the way and you can't see what you're doing if you have to put in a new piercing. The stud goes through the flesh and the screw is the head/jewel of the piercing and it is incredibly tiny and hard to hold with the wee screw part sticking out. Couple that with trying to get something through the inside of your lip that isn't made for turning inside out to the mirror and you have frustration city. This might not be a big deal but a lot of talking or kissing seems to unscrew the thing.
The first nine months of having the Monroe it seemed to unscrew itself a lot. And where did it do this? In restaurants in the dark about 90% of the time. Amazingly, I've found the head every single time. I carry a spare for the time that I don't find it. I need a few more though. The worst was when it dropped out in a restaurant at lunch and I couldn't get the head back on. A half hour later I tried to get a friend to do it but I couldn't get the stud through the flesh. The hole had already started to close up and I had to go down to the studio three hours later. That hurt like a damn when they had to thread the stud through again, and that was nine months after the piercing.
So yes, it was a pain in the ass. I could go to the flatter nose screw that my friend used in hers, but once I downsize I can't use the bigger pieces again. I need to decide that before I spend more money. Since I went through all the effort to heal, there was no way I was going to get the thing taken out...not until it starts damaging my teeth. I have friends who have had all sorts of body parts pierced: brows, tongues, lips, septums, bridges, backs, necks, nipples, navels, labia, hoods, scrotum, penis...you name it. I think I'm done. But then I thought that before the Monroe.
I walked around with loops of surgical thread (thick surgical thread) through my ears for weeks. When I finally put earrings in I had these little diamond (quartz/rhinestone really) studs. And then I suffered as the cheap earrings flaked off into my ears and if I didn't already have it I developed a nickel allergy. My ears puffed up and turned red and crusty. Pretty icky. I eventually bought some silver rings and put those in.
This first piercing experience and the loops of thread reminded me of being in Nepal, seeing the young girls (as early as four) walking around with small pieces of wood keeping their earholes open. Since many people are poor I presumed that they couldn't yet afford rings for their girl's ears but pierced ears were so much part of Nepalese culture.
And that's just it. Poking things into or through our skin, or decorating it has been something we've been doing since humanity first grabbed that shiny or bright object and started designing. Other cultures have laced things through their noses and lips and chests and genitalia. North American counter culture picked up the piercing traditions of many tribal and African countries. So no matter how trendy, on the edge, neo-goth, punk, burlesque, tribal we've made ourselves here, there was someone else who did it first, probably centuries earlier.
The second time I had one ear pierced, I was not the first, not even in Calgary. I was one of the very few though, especially in Calgary. And that piercing was done with a gun. Ouch. Took a year to heal. Then I went to India where I entertained having my nose pierced, not with the stud through the nostril flesh, but a ring through the septum. I didn't get that done but when I came back I ended up having my other ear pierced again. So I have two holes, close together on the left ear. The right ear has two holes but the second is right before the upper curve.
About three or four years ago I saw a friend in the States who I hadn't seen in a while. She had this really cute diamond stud above her lip, like a beauty mark. It looked great on her and on a spur of the moment kind of thing (with a bit of research on studios) I went in and had a Monroe piercing done. Of all the piercings this one was the most irritating and if I had known the nuisance it would be, I probably wouldn't have had it done. It's also a bad one for wearing at teeth though I haven't had that problem yet.
The piercing itself did not hurt but I kept catching the back on my teeth and pulling it through the flesh. It seems I have an especially thin lip and went in for downsizing three times while it healed. Again the piercing didn't hurt but my gums were so sore for the first week or two, from the stud back (a flat piece) rubbing up and down any time I talked or moved my mouth. Before I finally had the final size (and mine is shorter than most other people's) I would still catch the stud on my teeth. A very disconcerting feeling.
The other annoyance was that any time you have a piercing right on the front of your face, your fingers get in the way and you can't see what you're doing if you have to put in a new piercing. The stud goes through the flesh and the screw is the head/jewel of the piercing and it is incredibly tiny and hard to hold with the wee screw part sticking out. Couple that with trying to get something through the inside of your lip that isn't made for turning inside out to the mirror and you have frustration city. This might not be a big deal but a lot of talking or kissing seems to unscrew the thing.
The first nine months of having the Monroe it seemed to unscrew itself a lot. And where did it do this? In restaurants in the dark about 90% of the time. Amazingly, I've found the head every single time. I carry a spare for the time that I don't find it. I need a few more though. The worst was when it dropped out in a restaurant at lunch and I couldn't get the head back on. A half hour later I tried to get a friend to do it but I couldn't get the stud through the flesh. The hole had already started to close up and I had to go down to the studio three hours later. That hurt like a damn when they had to thread the stud through again, and that was nine months after the piercing.
So yes, it was a pain in the ass. I could go to the flatter nose screw that my friend used in hers, but once I downsize I can't use the bigger pieces again. I need to decide that before I spend more money. Since I went through all the effort to heal, there was no way I was going to get the thing taken out...not until it starts damaging my teeth. I have friends who have had all sorts of body parts pierced: brows, tongues, lips, septums, bridges, backs, necks, nipples, navels, labia, hoods, scrotum, penis...you name it. I think I'm done. But then I thought that before the Monroe.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Gay Pride and a Whole Rainbow of Possibilities
This coming weekend marks the gay pride parade in Vancouver. I have only managed to go once and it was a so-so parade. I was expecting big Kermit floats and others covered in flowers. Mostly it came across as ways for different businesses to advertise while showing support. Though you do get some colorful individuals and the bare-breasted dykes on bikes. We probably have the second largest population of gay and lesbians after San Francisco. Why the west coast? I'm not sure. Probably because it's warmer but also port cities tend to always be a blend of tradition and new ideas brought in by different ships and crews. Port cities are usually more liberal.
One of the news items associated with this year's gay pride parade was about a Sikh man who has been trying to put a Bollywood style float together and running into some opposition: people don't want the Sikh religion associated with homosexuality. It's kind of odd because it's not the religion that should be associated with homosexuality but homosexuals who are associated with the Sikh religion. Homosexuality isn't drawn to a particular religion.
No matter what right wing fundamentalist may think, homosexuality isn't a choice. People are born with a particular preponderance. A very good friend of mine, Greg, told me that by the age of six he knew he was gay and wanted to play "rubbing dinkies" with the boys. Most of the gay men I know tried sex with the other gender but it just didn't work for them.
Someone posted on wordpress a while back (I wished I'd gone and responded) that their theory was that women who had a "best friend evah" who was gay were women who were dumb, vapid and not too deep (is that the same thing?). I believe the person went on to say that gay men only want these Barbie doll types of women as friends. (I didn't read all of the article) I've heard some ludicrous things over the years and this rates as one of them.
Example: one of my best friends evah is gay. My other best friends are not. I have two degrees and have never been called stupid by anyone. My neighbors are gay and we're all friends. My landlady is an architect. I certainly see no correlation with one type of person being the preferred friend type to a gay person (and I use gay here to mean men or women). Like all people, gay people have a range of personalities and religious beliefs. They are of all religions and none, varying tastes and desires and life goals. The only difference; they prefer to have sex with the same gender.
Of course, these odd prejudices of only one type for one type can also happen amongst certain gay people. I've been accused by gay men of being a fag hag. I hate this term and to me it means a woman who exclusively hangs around with gay men, hoping to eventually have sex with/sway one over to the other side. Even if it only means a woman who only hangs with gay men, I still take offense. If I want to go out with my gay friend, what's wrong with that and why should it be assumed that's all I do? Do people presume such things if you're out with a straight male or a woman?
My biggest problem with people being against homosexuals is--what business is it of yours what they do in their bedrooms? They're not warping your children's minds. You can't sway someone to the "gay side" unless they're already gay. And as far as I'm concerned any religion that would ban someone just for being born the way they are, is a religion I want nothing to do with. Of course, mostly what happens is religious interpretation by individuals, which can get skewed. Love thy neighbor, but not if he's gay? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, but not if they're gay?
I haven't studied all religions but if compassion means it's only for someone who is like you, then that's a pretty narrow definition. Those who protest the most against being gay are probably those who have questioned their own sexuality and repressed it. Live and let live and stop repressing the homosexuals. If they were accepted in most cases as part of society, the need to flaunt or protest goes waaay down. Hooray for Canada, which legalized same sex marriages. And here's to the gay pride parade which will be needed until everyone accepts that homosexuals are part of the overall population; 10%.
One of the news items associated with this year's gay pride parade was about a Sikh man who has been trying to put a Bollywood style float together and running into some opposition: people don't want the Sikh religion associated with homosexuality. It's kind of odd because it's not the religion that should be associated with homosexuality but homosexuals who are associated with the Sikh religion. Homosexuality isn't drawn to a particular religion.
No matter what right wing fundamentalist may think, homosexuality isn't a choice. People are born with a particular preponderance. A very good friend of mine, Greg, told me that by the age of six he knew he was gay and wanted to play "rubbing dinkies" with the boys. Most of the gay men I know tried sex with the other gender but it just didn't work for them.
Someone posted on wordpress a while back (I wished I'd gone and responded) that their theory was that women who had a "best friend evah" who was gay were women who were dumb, vapid and not too deep (is that the same thing?). I believe the person went on to say that gay men only want these Barbie doll types of women as friends. (I didn't read all of the article) I've heard some ludicrous things over the years and this rates as one of them.
Example: one of my best friends evah is gay. My other best friends are not. I have two degrees and have never been called stupid by anyone. My neighbors are gay and we're all friends. My landlady is an architect. I certainly see no correlation with one type of person being the preferred friend type to a gay person (and I use gay here to mean men or women). Like all people, gay people have a range of personalities and religious beliefs. They are of all religions and none, varying tastes and desires and life goals. The only difference; they prefer to have sex with the same gender.
Of course, these odd prejudices of only one type for one type can also happen amongst certain gay people. I've been accused by gay men of being a fag hag. I hate this term and to me it means a woman who exclusively hangs around with gay men, hoping to eventually have sex with/sway one over to the other side. Even if it only means a woman who only hangs with gay men, I still take offense. If I want to go out with my gay friend, what's wrong with that and why should it be assumed that's all I do? Do people presume such things if you're out with a straight male or a woman?
My biggest problem with people being against homosexuals is--what business is it of yours what they do in their bedrooms? They're not warping your children's minds. You can't sway someone to the "gay side" unless they're already gay. And as far as I'm concerned any religion that would ban someone just for being born the way they are, is a religion I want nothing to do with. Of course, mostly what happens is religious interpretation by individuals, which can get skewed. Love thy neighbor, but not if he's gay? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, but not if they're gay?
I haven't studied all religions but if compassion means it's only for someone who is like you, then that's a pretty narrow definition. Those who protest the most against being gay are probably those who have questioned their own sexuality and repressed it. Live and let live and stop repressing the homosexuals. If they were accepted in most cases as part of society, the need to flaunt or protest goes waaay down. Hooray for Canada, which legalized same sex marriages. And here's to the gay pride parade which will be needed until everyone accepts that homosexuals are part of the overall population; 10%.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Why I Need to Marry a Dentist/Orthodontist
I have this tooth. Actually, I have many teeth but this particular one caused me huge grief. It’s a mutant tooth and like most mutations, it’s not particularly useful. Okay, so I’m a mutant, with four kidneys, an extra rib and an extra ankle bone in each foot. None of these bothered me much, except for the rib when I’ve been driving for more than three hours.
Then my tooth started to hurt. It’s crooked, like a few other teeth. I tried to ignore the twinges until they began to linger. Dentistry is expensive and I’ve been trying to save for a crown I needed on another broken tooth. So off I went to my dentist, who took an x-ray and said, “How odd, it looks as if your tooth has two roots.” But she gave it a try.
I should mention that along the way I’ve become overly sensitive to epinephrine. I’ll get a racing heart, tunnel vision, breathing constriction (or it feels like it) and numbing arms. Epinephrine is what makes freezing last when dentists drill into your teeth. No epinephrine means using other types of freezing that don’t last more than an hour. My dentist froze me and started drilling and I started writhing. She couldn’t freeze deep enough so she packed it in and sent me to the specialist.
When I saw the specialist she said, “How unusual. It’s going to cost between $800-1200 for the root canal…” Make that canals. Two three-hour visits later, with a lot of pain…the only way they know when the freezing is coming out is when I start to writhe and whimper… and she said, “Hmmm, I can’t get that second root. We’re going to have to do surgery.”
At that point I had hit the $1200 mark. I said, “I can’t. I have no more money.” They were quoting another $500 for surgery. But they said since my tooth was so unusual they wouldn’t charge me for the surgery. You’d think I’d leap at such a chance to have drills and needles and cutting in my mouth. Needless to say, it was like walking the gangplank with a musket at your back. There really isn’t much choice when your tooth is still hurting.
Now, dental work is never fun and I almost always will feel pain because the freezing seems to come out of the nerves first but will stay in the soft tissue of the lips and nose for several hours. It makes me a bit paranoid. I wouldn’t last very long under torture.
Which brought us to yesterday. I went in at 9:15 and they froze me up with about six shots. I thought, good, I don’t want to feel a thing and having these horrid, not exactly pleasant needles will be all I’ll feel. Should I mention that originally they said the surgery would be quick, less than a half an hour?
Thank god at least the soft tissue was frozen. They cut into the gum on both the distal and lingual sides. I felt like there couldn’t have been any tooth left with all the drilling, digging, pulling, prodding, sawing. I also get TMJ (trans mandibular joint syndrome) so holding my jaw open was its own type of excruciating. It was getting so sore that my jaw was starting to shake.
The types of pain I experienced ranged the whole spectrum; piercing, pinching, deep aching, sharp and deep, throbbing, visceral in ways I can’t describe. I am not exaggerating at all when I say they were having to top up the freezing every five minutes. I lost count at over thirty needles and those were only the ones I felt going into my palette or gum every time. And it barely helped. It seems I metabolize the freezing super quickly. Hooray for mutant super powers.
Digging out the root, twisted and infected, was its own form of torture. And then she touched the exposed bone. Who knew bone could hurt so much. A deep lingering, shuddering pain that had me crying. I couldn’t help it. After that I was wired so tense with layers of pain that I was shaking head to toe. They gave me a rest and one of the assistants had to guide me to the bathroom because I think I was in shock. I was shaky for about another fifteen minutes, before going back for more dental fun.
They dug, they drilled, they sawed and they tugged. I say they because there were three people with their hands in my mouth. They had to refreeze me to stitch me. As I sat there, (they wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to keel over), the assistant said, “We’re only going to charge you for materials. The surgery would have been $1500 but you need to pay $185.” I should also mention that while I was in Kansas I broke my front tooth…again. It usually last two years but it’s been less than a year.
When I was told I needed to pay another $185, I’m afraid it was the last straw in a traumatic morning. I’d been there for three hours. I couldn’t stop crying, but I tried to hide it, then told the specialist that I wouldn’t be able to pay for a while because I had another broken tooth that had to be fixed. She ended up not charging me, which I thank her for. They said it was the most unusual tooth they’ve ever seen and they look at special cases every single day. Oh joy, to be so abnormal.
Right now, my mouth aches, my gums are swollen and throbbing, and I can only eat mushy stuff. I look like a demented chipmunk, with one cheek so swollen it’s encroaching on my vision because my eyelid is pushed up. I spent yesterday afternoon sleeping, where I kept dreaming that I was sucking on keys and coins against my gum and that it kept hurting my stitches. That’s because even in my sleep I was hurting. I just hope to any gods in existence that the rest of my teeth have nice, healthy normal roots. Now I just have to find money to get the front tooth fixed…again, a crown on my molar, and I would imagine that eventually I need one on the mutant tooth. Should I ever need this type of dental surgery again, I’m gonna have them knock me out.
I won’t even get into the costs for braces in a mouth with several problems. That’s at least $10,000. Know of any single dentist/orthodontists, or better yet, one who wants to do a work of charity?
Then my tooth started to hurt. It’s crooked, like a few other teeth. I tried to ignore the twinges until they began to linger. Dentistry is expensive and I’ve been trying to save for a crown I needed on another broken tooth. So off I went to my dentist, who took an x-ray and said, “How odd, it looks as if your tooth has two roots.” But she gave it a try.
I should mention that along the way I’ve become overly sensitive to epinephrine. I’ll get a racing heart, tunnel vision, breathing constriction (or it feels like it) and numbing arms. Epinephrine is what makes freezing last when dentists drill into your teeth. No epinephrine means using other types of freezing that don’t last more than an hour. My dentist froze me and started drilling and I started writhing. She couldn’t freeze deep enough so she packed it in and sent me to the specialist.
When I saw the specialist she said, “How unusual. It’s going to cost between $800-1200 for the root canal…” Make that canals. Two three-hour visits later, with a lot of pain…the only way they know when the freezing is coming out is when I start to writhe and whimper… and she said, “Hmmm, I can’t get that second root. We’re going to have to do surgery.”
At that point I had hit the $1200 mark. I said, “I can’t. I have no more money.” They were quoting another $500 for surgery. But they said since my tooth was so unusual they wouldn’t charge me for the surgery. You’d think I’d leap at such a chance to have drills and needles and cutting in my mouth. Needless to say, it was like walking the gangplank with a musket at your back. There really isn’t much choice when your tooth is still hurting.
Now, dental work is never fun and I almost always will feel pain because the freezing seems to come out of the nerves first but will stay in the soft tissue of the lips and nose for several hours. It makes me a bit paranoid. I wouldn’t last very long under torture.
Which brought us to yesterday. I went in at 9:15 and they froze me up with about six shots. I thought, good, I don’t want to feel a thing and having these horrid, not exactly pleasant needles will be all I’ll feel. Should I mention that originally they said the surgery would be quick, less than a half an hour?
Thank god at least the soft tissue was frozen. They cut into the gum on both the distal and lingual sides. I felt like there couldn’t have been any tooth left with all the drilling, digging, pulling, prodding, sawing. I also get TMJ (trans mandibular joint syndrome) so holding my jaw open was its own type of excruciating. It was getting so sore that my jaw was starting to shake.
The types of pain I experienced ranged the whole spectrum; piercing, pinching, deep aching, sharp and deep, throbbing, visceral in ways I can’t describe. I am not exaggerating at all when I say they were having to top up the freezing every five minutes. I lost count at over thirty needles and those were only the ones I felt going into my palette or gum every time. And it barely helped. It seems I metabolize the freezing super quickly. Hooray for mutant super powers.
Digging out the root, twisted and infected, was its own form of torture. And then she touched the exposed bone. Who knew bone could hurt so much. A deep lingering, shuddering pain that had me crying. I couldn’t help it. After that I was wired so tense with layers of pain that I was shaking head to toe. They gave me a rest and one of the assistants had to guide me to the bathroom because I think I was in shock. I was shaky for about another fifteen minutes, before going back for more dental fun.
They dug, they drilled, they sawed and they tugged. I say they because there were three people with their hands in my mouth. They had to refreeze me to stitch me. As I sat there, (they wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to keel over), the assistant said, “We’re only going to charge you for materials. The surgery would have been $1500 but you need to pay $185.” I should also mention that while I was in Kansas I broke my front tooth…again. It usually last two years but it’s been less than a year.
When I was told I needed to pay another $185, I’m afraid it was the last straw in a traumatic morning. I’d been there for three hours. I couldn’t stop crying, but I tried to hide it, then told the specialist that I wouldn’t be able to pay for a while because I had another broken tooth that had to be fixed. She ended up not charging me, which I thank her for. They said it was the most unusual tooth they’ve ever seen and they look at special cases every single day. Oh joy, to be so abnormal.
Right now, my mouth aches, my gums are swollen and throbbing, and I can only eat mushy stuff. I look like a demented chipmunk, with one cheek so swollen it’s encroaching on my vision because my eyelid is pushed up. I spent yesterday afternoon sleeping, where I kept dreaming that I was sucking on keys and coins against my gum and that it kept hurting my stitches. That’s because even in my sleep I was hurting. I just hope to any gods in existence that the rest of my teeth have nice, healthy normal roots. Now I just have to find money to get the front tooth fixed…again, a crown on my molar, and I would imagine that eventually I need one on the mutant tooth. Should I ever need this type of dental surgery again, I’m gonna have them knock me out.
I won’t even get into the costs for braces in a mouth with several problems. That’s at least $10,000. Know of any single dentist/orthodontists, or better yet, one who wants to do a work of charity?
Friday, July 4, 2008
Novel Writing Workshop
Tomorrow (today) we go over the last of nine novels, which means three chapters and the outline. The writing is of a pretty good caliber in all of these and all of them need work. Kij is amazingly astute and finding what's not working and at defining structure.
There has been quite a range in the ideas from humorous space opera to medieval fantasy to alternate histories. I hadn't worked on the novel for ten years and knew I had huge expository lumps. But I was getting mired. I had to build a complete world, including geography, races, culture, religion and rulers. No small feat and it's still evolving. I was told to get rid of the first two chapters and simplify the information. I also had to drop the meddling gods back.
The more I thought about it, the more relieved I was. I have so much information to impart and I was getting mired. After we went for BBQ (where the food was okay and the waiting staff terrible) at the Vermont, I think, we went back to the dorms. Most nights people sit around and talk and write, to varying degrees. There's a quiet room if you don't want to be bothered by the chatter. I was working on my outline and chatting with Eric Warren from the short fiction workshop.
He had sat in one day on our workshop and had read the two novel bits so he could see how the process went. It's not round table like Clarion and is a more gentle, more brainstorming style which I quite like and find useful, not to mention you learn from the other people's novels too. We ended up discussing my novel and it was really useful. Eric gave me a very cool idea for the second novel and I got to bounce my changes off of him.
What this outline has given me that the first didn't is a jumping point to a second novel. I had only thought in the vague terms of "there will be one" before this. Kij has made me cut down to three viewpoint characters. Because of the races and plot, I can't really go to fewer. But this leaves room for different character viewpoints in the second novel. One rule was that two of the three problems must be solved by the end of the novel. I've done this (at least in the outline), and leaving one unsolved problem leaves room for that problem to flow into the next novel and for joining them.
The outline gets turned in next week and taken through the process. I think it is stronger and kind of exciting. I also wrote up story arcs for each of the four characters, which definitely helps in plotting the outlines. I hope to have most of the outline done by tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Zenn Car or Tesla Roadster
I'm sure there are more electric cars out there but I recently mentioned the Zenn Car and Tesla Motors Roadster. Because I've wanted to downsize since last year, and should have done it then, I've been looking at cars. My Saturn Ion 3 does get pretty good mileage: 600 km to a 50 litre tank, or about 30 mi/gallon. That's highway driving. But I don't need the space and therefore could improve on the mileage with a smaller vehicle.
Well, an electric car would be ideal, right? When I looked at the Tesla Roadster http://www.teslamotors.com/, with its 220 miles to a charge, its ability to accelerate, its green aspects, I thought yes! The catch: you have to place an order and it could take a year to get your car. The cost is $109,000, which makes it a toy for the environmentally conscious elite only. It's only available in the US. Still, if some of the jetsetting rich folk think beyond what they can spend on frivolities, then that's a start. And as we know, many rock and movie stars can be role models (just look at Paris!), so let's hope they lead by green examples.
On the other end is the Zenn car http://www.zenncars.com/ made in Canada. It's classified as a NEV (neighbourhood electric vehicle). That's part of the catch; it only goes up to about 25 miles an hour/40 km. Even in Vancouver, should I be puttering about at 40 km, I'm going to make a lot of irate drives in the 50 km zones where everyone goes 60 km. But it's cheap at $15, 995 USD. Available in many states, Zenn is looking at starting in Montreal for Canada. It's taken awhile to get through the Canadian red tape even if it is a Canadian made car. But for delivery vehicles and people who just move about the city from work to the store to home, it's a cheaper alternative.
I can't buy the Roadster because it's expensive and only avaialable in the US. I can't buy the Zenn because its goes too slow (and I drive on the highway to get to work) and it's only available in the US. I can't buy a Prius or any other electric hybrid car because they're too expensive.
Now, I had even more incentive to get a smaller car because of the BC government's impending carbon tax, to make people choose greener alternatives. I've already grumbled about how this would work better if we actually had real alternatives. I should have sold my car six months ago when I first decided to downgrade. I've looked at the Honda Fit, the Toyota Yaris and the Nissan Versa. All are viable as smaller cars, all are similar though one is better at pick-up, one at trunk space, one at turning radius.
My catch? I still owe payments on my Saturn Ion 3. Although it's been reliable and good on gas mileage, everyone is scared to buy cars (let alone trucks) right now. I can't sell it for what it's worth, which means I can't buy a smaller, more energy efficient car. So the government has me where it hurts with their extra tax on the already taxed gas. And soon, it will be cheaper to take the bus, but it's still cheaper for me to drive.
Anyone want to buy a good car?
Well, an electric car would be ideal, right? When I looked at the Tesla Roadster http://www.teslamotors.com/, with its 220 miles to a charge, its ability to accelerate, its green aspects, I thought yes! The catch: you have to place an order and it could take a year to get your car. The cost is $109,000, which makes it a toy for the environmentally conscious elite only. It's only available in the US. Still, if some of the jetsetting rich folk think beyond what they can spend on frivolities, then that's a start. And as we know, many rock and movie stars can be role models (just look at Paris!), so let's hope they lead by green examples.
On the other end is the Zenn car http://www.zenncars.com/ made in Canada. It's classified as a NEV (neighbourhood electric vehicle). That's part of the catch; it only goes up to about 25 miles an hour/40 km. Even in Vancouver, should I be puttering about at 40 km, I'm going to make a lot of irate drives in the 50 km zones where everyone goes 60 km. But it's cheap at $15, 995 USD. Available in many states, Zenn is looking at starting in Montreal for Canada. It's taken awhile to get through the Canadian red tape even if it is a Canadian made car. But for delivery vehicles and people who just move about the city from work to the store to home, it's a cheaper alternative.
I can't buy the Roadster because it's expensive and only avaialable in the US. I can't buy the Zenn because its goes too slow (and I drive on the highway to get to work) and it's only available in the US. I can't buy a Prius or any other electric hybrid car because they're too expensive.
Now, I had even more incentive to get a smaller car because of the BC government's impending carbon tax, to make people choose greener alternatives. I've already grumbled about how this would work better if we actually had real alternatives. I should have sold my car six months ago when I first decided to downgrade. I've looked at the Honda Fit, the Toyota Yaris and the Nissan Versa. All are viable as smaller cars, all are similar though one is better at pick-up, one at trunk space, one at turning radius.
My catch? I still owe payments on my Saturn Ion 3. Although it's been reliable and good on gas mileage, everyone is scared to buy cars (let alone trucks) right now. I can't sell it for what it's worth, which means I can't buy a smaller, more energy efficient car. So the government has me where it hurts with their extra tax on the already taxed gas. And soon, it will be cheaper to take the bus, but it's still cheaper for me to drive.
Anyone want to buy a good car?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Writing News
It seems there has been a contest listed on Craigslist that list the SFWA (Science Fiction Writers of America) as sponsoring it. You pay a $10 contest entry and then the winning stories and honourable mentions will be published by a big publisher.
This is a fraudulent contest and SFWA has already issued statements that they have not sponsored that. Someone is hoping to make some money on collecting entry fees but having no legitimate contest.
Writer beware. Do not send anything if you see this contest listed.
This is a fraudulent contest and SFWA has already issued statements that they have not sponsored that. Someone is hoping to make some money on collecting entry fees but having no legitimate contest.
Writer beware. Do not send anything if you see this contest listed.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Dream States
I had the oddest dream last night that mixed different parts of my life. In real life, last night, I gave Daralyn and Miranda a ride home. They're students at the naturopathic college where I work.
So then I dreamt: Miranda, Daralyn and I were at a writing convention. We were in a hotel room and getting ready for bed, three beds. As we settled in two other women I didn't know burst in and, because we'd answered the door, one took my bed and the other took one of the other's beds. A fourth woman had just joined us before that and was going to share the larger bed. The larger intruding woman took that bed.
I took my pillow and was trying to find my sheets or duvet but couldn't. It turns out there was a fourth bed but it had four TVs hanging over it so low that if you were laying in the bed your nose would probably touch them. Since that wasn't usable I went to the adjoining room where two Japanese girls were going in. Two people were already sleeping in there but on small kitchen style tables. Various bits of fabric were draped over the tables.
I heard that one was Martel, this Chicago writer on a list that I'm on. In real life, it turns out that Martel is a woman but I've never met her or seen a picture of her. In my dream it was a guy with wild red hair, and superhero size muscled arms. He had a tiny Pomeranian sized saber tooth tiger and gave me a hug when I said I was on Twilight Tales also.
At that point I realized the two women who had come in had been rude and that there was no reason they should take our beds and I went back into the room, told them there was etiquette and rules and that they couldn't just take our beds when we'd already picked them.
Then I was in Europe, I think, sitting beside a large gargoyle outside a building. I was looking at small sculptures that were butter molds and presses when Friz, Jordan and I think, Rick, three other students from the college walked by. We said hi and hugged each other. And that was the dream in all its weirdness
So then I dreamt: Miranda, Daralyn and I were at a writing convention. We were in a hotel room and getting ready for bed, three beds. As we settled in two other women I didn't know burst in and, because we'd answered the door, one took my bed and the other took one of the other's beds. A fourth woman had just joined us before that and was going to share the larger bed. The larger intruding woman took that bed.
I took my pillow and was trying to find my sheets or duvet but couldn't. It turns out there was a fourth bed but it had four TVs hanging over it so low that if you were laying in the bed your nose would probably touch them. Since that wasn't usable I went to the adjoining room where two Japanese girls were going in. Two people were already sleeping in there but on small kitchen style tables. Various bits of fabric were draped over the tables.
I heard that one was Martel, this Chicago writer on a list that I'm on. In real life, it turns out that Martel is a woman but I've never met her or seen a picture of her. In my dream it was a guy with wild red hair, and superhero size muscled arms. He had a tiny Pomeranian sized saber tooth tiger and gave me a hug when I said I was on Twilight Tales also.
At that point I realized the two women who had come in had been rude and that there was no reason they should take our beds and I went back into the room, told them there was etiquette and rules and that they couldn't just take our beds when we'd already picked them.
Then I was in Europe, I think, sitting beside a large gargoyle outside a building. I was looking at small sculptures that were butter molds and presses when Friz, Jordan and I think, Rick, three other students from the college walked by. We said hi and hugged each other. And that was the dream in all its weirdness
Friday, June 6, 2008
Suffering the Effects of Gas...Prices
Alas, today I had to put gas into the car. $25 for a quarter of a tank at $1.42 a litre. For those of you in the US, there are 3.8 litres to the US gallon (different from the imperial gallon) but roughly you can multiply it by four for a price of $5.68 a gallon. It's still cheaper to gas up in the US, when I can, but I can't afford to drive as far.
So, gas prices, definitely causing us discomfort but these days we hear, oh the price of food is going up because of gas prices. Airline tickets--gas prices. Clothing--gas prices. Gas prices--gas prices. Yes, the price of gas is going up because of the price of gas. Or gas prices are going up because of volcanoes, tsunamis, rain, broken fingernails or war somewhere. I wonder how much George Bush can be blamed for gas prices?
The moment that our lovely provincial government mentioned that they would be doing a carbon tax on gas as of July 1, the price went up by a couple of cents (back in April). Let's not forget that gas is already taxed federally and provincially and more if you live in large urban centers--36.3% as of 2006 for Vancouver. Oh and there is tax on the tax. (You'll have to read my earlier rant, "Carbon Tax: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing" to see why I think it's hugely flawed--the least amount of work the gov't can do toward environmentalism.)
Let's go back ten years or more. I remember a time when the price of gas stayed the same for months on end and would only change by a cent. In BC, less than ten years ago Arco started to come into the province. Gas went down to an unprecedented .29 cents a litre. You could gas up for $15. It began a gas war because of Arco's low prices. Do they even exist anymore? At that point in time prices would drop or rise but stay that way for a week.
Somehow everything sped up exponentially. It became a daily thing to see prices change by .10 cents a litre and it still happens. So, tell me, great gas corporations, are your prices changing on the hour because of every geographic upheaval, drop of rain or hurled insult somewhere in the world? Does this somehow affect the reserves? According to these poor beleaguered gas companies, which I'm sure are losing money, yes, every little earthquake, every insurrection causes gas prices to change instantaneously.
Wow, we are so volatile. I notice that those world crises are at their lowest late at night and mid day but that they affect gas prices most when we are going to or coming from work and always on the weekend when you may be driving at any particular time. Gosh, our world is like a bunch of festering sores just constantly popping.
There have been calls for investigations into the price of gas and the fluctuation of such. I have yet to hear that there was such an investigation or the results. We're at the mercy of the gas companies who will only switch wholeheartedly to hybrid or other clean energy cars when they can no longer suck the last drop of oil from the earth and likewise suck us dry. Just look at how little advertising has ever gone into a hybrid car and how they are more expensive than any gas guzzler. Oh, and if you check far enough some gas and car companies are often jointely owned or have shares in each other. Can we say collusion?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Rebellion Baby
Or is that rebellion, baby! Actually, no, it's rebellion baby. That's what I was. My brother was recently in town and commented on a little tactic I had at the age of two. I don't remember it but he still laughs about it.
It seems when my mother would put me to bed I would rebel with a fit where I'd tear off my pajamas, toss them in the hallway and then lay down upon them...and fall asleep. Maybe that's why I don't where pajamas today. But I do remember being slightly older, around four or five years of age, and I would slowly, accidentally, slide out of bed on the covers, because that way I wasn't going to bed, darn it! No way! It didn't seem to matter to my child's mind that I would fall asleep on the sheets on the floor and inevitably wake up in the morning in my bed.
What a rebel I was. I hated going to bed. I hated missing out on things. One evening, some adult cousins from Lac La Biche, Doreen and Ted, showed up at the house. It was past my bedtime and I was in bed but not asleep. I heard them come in and wanted to see them but there was no way I could just trounce upstairs without getting in deep doodoo.
I was, on one level, very honest. I didn't tend to lie. I couldn't fake being sick, like my brother believes he did and faked himself into an appendectomy at a young age. But I had a devious plan. I could swallow air and at other times, burp on will. This time I just kept swallowing the air and not burping it out until my tummy hurt. Aha! Now I could go upstairs and say, "My tummy hurts."
My mother must have been wise to my ways. She said something about it being suspect and gave me a glass of warm water, which succeeded in freeing my trapped burps. But I got what I wanted. I got to see Doreen and Ted before being sent back to bed.
I was a classic bookworm, often staying up late at night, reading, with the flashlight under the sheets. I'm still a late night person, often going to bed at 2:00, which means I usually don't get enough sleep during the week. And I still sleep in till 10:00 am if I can.
As to rebellion, well, I wanted to learn to play drums as a kid, not because I had any affinity but because it's what girls didn't do. Instead, when my mother denied me, I hit the art/drawing route, much better suited to my temperament. And my mother learned that if she wanted me to do something she got a lot farther if she asked instead of telling me what to do.
It seems when my mother would put me to bed I would rebel with a fit where I'd tear off my pajamas, toss them in the hallway and then lay down upon them...and fall asleep. Maybe that's why I don't where pajamas today. But I do remember being slightly older, around four or five years of age, and I would slowly, accidentally, slide out of bed on the covers, because that way I wasn't going to bed, darn it! No way! It didn't seem to matter to my child's mind that I would fall asleep on the sheets on the floor and inevitably wake up in the morning in my bed.
What a rebel I was. I hated going to bed. I hated missing out on things. One evening, some adult cousins from Lac La Biche, Doreen and Ted, showed up at the house. It was past my bedtime and I was in bed but not asleep. I heard them come in and wanted to see them but there was no way I could just trounce upstairs without getting in deep doodoo.
I was, on one level, very honest. I didn't tend to lie. I couldn't fake being sick, like my brother believes he did and faked himself into an appendectomy at a young age. But I had a devious plan. I could swallow air and at other times, burp on will. This time I just kept swallowing the air and not burping it out until my tummy hurt. Aha! Now I could go upstairs and say, "My tummy hurts."
My mother must have been wise to my ways. She said something about it being suspect and gave me a glass of warm water, which succeeded in freeing my trapped burps. But I got what I wanted. I got to see Doreen and Ted before being sent back to bed.
I was a classic bookworm, often staying up late at night, reading, with the flashlight under the sheets. I'm still a late night person, often going to bed at 2:00, which means I usually don't get enough sleep during the week. And I still sleep in till 10:00 am if I can.
As to rebellion, well, I wanted to learn to play drums as a kid, not because I had any affinity but because it's what girls didn't do. Instead, when my mother denied me, I hit the art/drawing route, much better suited to my temperament. And my mother learned that if she wanted me to do something she got a lot farther if she asked instead of telling me what to do.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Worlds of What If: Story Ideas & Oz
I recently wrote a story about Dorothy, ten years after Oz, where she still lives in Kansas. It involves the shoes showing up suddenly in her closet. It's barely fantastical, might be called literary.
I sent it to a speculative fiction magazine where it was rejected. The comment was that the protagnonist didn't do enough and, what about the other 15 Oz books and what they covered that people knew so well. I can live with criticism and comments on what doesn't work but I didn't find the comment about the Oz books helpful nor true to the whole genre of speculative writing.
Worlds of what-if includes looking at something and saying, what if it did this instead of this? What if Snow White had actually enslaved the dwarfs to work for her and they were brainwashed? What if the Germans had won WWII? What if magic did exist and it caused a worldwide class system? There are a thousand examples of where someone takes a pre-existing concept or event and changes it.
Fairy tales have long been in the realm of public domain and many have been rewritten and retold in varying ways. The most popular example would be anything that Disney has touched, to the extent that some people think that the Disney version is the one and only. But fairy tales have a long tradition of orginally being oral tales that were eventually written down by the Grimm brothers and others. Once they hit print, they didn't change and adapt with the times as much, but they did still change. Writers still took those ideas and played with them.
L. Frank Baum's Wizard of Oz was written in 1900 and published in 1901. It's been around long enough that it is now in our memories. When I decided to write the story I actually had to go read the book, because like many people, I was more familiar with the movie. I didn't read the other 13 books (not 15). Though they were popular it was that original adventure that caught so many people's imaginations.
Asking, what if this happened to Dorothy is a valid question. But perhaps I'm just an angry rejected author. Well, I have given examples of other what-ifs, but let's look at two that I just found this week. Yesterday, I was listening to CBC Radio's Wiretap http://www.cbc.ca/wiretap/index.html There were two stories: What if the Penguin and Mary Poppins met on a blind date? And what if Barney accidentally killed Dino in Bedrock? Hmm, if I was the editor that rejected my story because I didn't consider the other 13 books, then I could also say but Mary Poppins never met the Penguin. What about all those other Batman comics. Or, but Dino never died and what about all those other Flintstones cartoons?
Okay, well, those are closer to the point I'm making but not about Oz. Then I came across the following article this weekend in the Dec. 2007 issue of Wired.
Tin Man--SciFi Chanel's three-part reimagining of The Wizard of Oz, premiering Dec. 2, blends steampunk and Buffy. Heroine DG (Zooey Deschanel) battles the evil Sorceress (Kathleen Robertson) to free the oppressed residents of The O.Z. The Tin Man (Neal McDonough) is a more-dreamy-than-tinny ex-cop resistance fighter, and the Scarecrow (Alan Cumming) is a victim of grand theft brain. Cheesy? Absolutely. But it's also clever and wonderfully geeky.
Steampunk and Buffy? The Tin Man is an ex-cop? Oh my goodness! But...but.... I think my point is made that it's valid to take a character, a time, a place and ask what if? It's valid to not slavishly follow what has been written but to take some elements and fly off into the worlds of imagination. As to my story, well, I'll continue to send it out and see what the editors think.
I sent it to a speculative fiction magazine where it was rejected. The comment was that the protagnonist didn't do enough and, what about the other 15 Oz books and what they covered that people knew so well. I can live with criticism and comments on what doesn't work but I didn't find the comment about the Oz books helpful nor true to the whole genre of speculative writing.
Worlds of what-if includes looking at something and saying, what if it did this instead of this? What if Snow White had actually enslaved the dwarfs to work for her and they were brainwashed? What if the Germans had won WWII? What if magic did exist and it caused a worldwide class system? There are a thousand examples of where someone takes a pre-existing concept or event and changes it.
Fairy tales have long been in the realm of public domain and many have been rewritten and retold in varying ways. The most popular example would be anything that Disney has touched, to the extent that some people think that the Disney version is the one and only. But fairy tales have a long tradition of orginally being oral tales that were eventually written down by the Grimm brothers and others. Once they hit print, they didn't change and adapt with the times as much, but they did still change. Writers still took those ideas and played with them.
L. Frank Baum's Wizard of Oz was written in 1900 and published in 1901. It's been around long enough that it is now in our memories. When I decided to write the story I actually had to go read the book, because like many people, I was more familiar with the movie. I didn't read the other 13 books (not 15). Though they were popular it was that original adventure that caught so many people's imaginations.
Asking, what if this happened to Dorothy is a valid question. But perhaps I'm just an angry rejected author. Well, I have given examples of other what-ifs, but let's look at two that I just found this week. Yesterday, I was listening to CBC Radio's Wiretap http://www.cbc.ca/wiretap/index.html There were two stories: What if the Penguin and Mary Poppins met on a blind date? And what if Barney accidentally killed Dino in Bedrock? Hmm, if I was the editor that rejected my story because I didn't consider the other 13 books, then I could also say but Mary Poppins never met the Penguin. What about all those other Batman comics. Or, but Dino never died and what about all those other Flintstones cartoons?
Okay, well, those are closer to the point I'm making but not about Oz. Then I came across the following article this weekend in the Dec. 2007 issue of Wired.
Tin Man--SciFi Chanel's three-part reimagining of The Wizard of Oz, premiering Dec. 2, blends steampunk and Buffy. Heroine DG (Zooey Deschanel) battles the evil Sorceress (Kathleen Robertson) to free the oppressed residents of The O.Z. The Tin Man (Neal McDonough) is a more-dreamy-than-tinny ex-cop resistance fighter, and the Scarecrow (Alan Cumming) is a victim of grand theft brain. Cheesy? Absolutely. But it's also clever and wonderfully geeky.
Steampunk and Buffy? The Tin Man is an ex-cop? Oh my goodness! But...but.... I think my point is made that it's valid to take a character, a time, a place and ask what if? It's valid to not slavishly follow what has been written but to take some elements and fly off into the worlds of imagination. As to my story, well, I'll continue to send it out and see what the editors think.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Car Calamity
Dear Wanker,
Six months ago, nearly to the day someone broke into my place by crowbarring the French patio doors and stealing my new camera. Last night someone crowbarred the moulding on my car window and then smashed the window in. I think it was you. But if it wasn't, no matter, there are wankers of a certain ilk and you are just one of many.
I hope you enjoyed the one CD you got though I really doubt Sarah McLaughlin is your style. Oh and enjoy the empty Cranberries case. Perhaps you can use it to layout your crack or cocaine. You did get my in-car phone charger but I'm guessing you don't have a phone so if you just grease that thing up you can shove it up your ass. It might stop you from spreading your degenerate shit.
And I really hope you enjoy the lime Tictacs. They're only available in the US, you know, so use them to disguise your dog breath laden with ketosis from not enough food. Hell, keep the plastic knife and fork and use them to pretend you're actually having a meal. And since you took the tiny tube of toothpaste, you can brush away that dogbreath afterwards.
I'm sure the wee bag of rock salt came in handy. I don't need it. You've already salted my wounds. I'm sure the tampon will come in handy too. Stick it up your nose when it starts bleeding from too much coke. Or use it to absorb any blood that comes spurting out from your bungled attempt at sticking a needle in your veins.
I'd wish you the karma you deserve for violating my space and my possessions and causing me needless costs that I can ill-afford. I know you don't care and that you've already sold your mother and anyone else near and dear to you. I'd wish you the karma you deserve but I think you're already experiencing it. Instead, I wish you healing and the ability to find some semblance of a life and a meaning for existence besides being a vacuous repository for substances and a canker on society's ass. I wish you will feel regret for what you did and learn to help others.
I wish you healing, but if I run into you I'm going to take that crowbar and shove it up your ass sideways, then feed you the broken bits of glass.
Six months ago, nearly to the day someone broke into my place by crowbarring the French patio doors and stealing my new camera. Last night someone crowbarred the moulding on my car window and then smashed the window in. I think it was you. But if it wasn't, no matter, there are wankers of a certain ilk and you are just one of many.
I hope you enjoyed the one CD you got though I really doubt Sarah McLaughlin is your style. Oh and enjoy the empty Cranberries case. Perhaps you can use it to layout your crack or cocaine. You did get my in-car phone charger but I'm guessing you don't have a phone so if you just grease that thing up you can shove it up your ass. It might stop you from spreading your degenerate shit.
And I really hope you enjoy the lime Tictacs. They're only available in the US, you know, so use them to disguise your dog breath laden with ketosis from not enough food. Hell, keep the plastic knife and fork and use them to pretend you're actually having a meal. And since you took the tiny tube of toothpaste, you can brush away that dogbreath afterwards.
I'm sure the wee bag of rock salt came in handy. I don't need it. You've already salted my wounds. I'm sure the tampon will come in handy too. Stick it up your nose when it starts bleeding from too much coke. Or use it to absorb any blood that comes spurting out from your bungled attempt at sticking a needle in your veins.
I'd wish you the karma you deserve for violating my space and my possessions and causing me needless costs that I can ill-afford. I know you don't care and that you've already sold your mother and anyone else near and dear to you. I'd wish you the karma you deserve but I think you're already experiencing it. Instead, I wish you healing and the ability to find some semblance of a life and a meaning for existence besides being a vacuous repository for substances and a canker on society's ass. I wish you will feel regret for what you did and learn to help others.
I wish you healing, but if I run into you I'm going to take that crowbar and shove it up your ass sideways, then feed you the broken bits of glass.
Stones of Ireland: II
We travelled to the Cliffs of Moher in northwestern Ireland, the tallest in Europe. Rugged and impressive, they remained formidable to drive up and to look down. The sheer audacity of Kinbane castle in Northern Ireland built down a very steep hill right on the promontory of the North Sea kept it impenetrable for years. Out near Kinvara and in the Burren were the Ailwee Caves, great underground caverns carved millennia ago by a subterranean river, fossils and minerals sparkling like the realm of Hades. Cool, pitch black except when they turned on the lights, and a den for extinct European brown bears, their might was in their endurance and solidity.
The Burren was as impressive in its way as the Giants Causeway. At some point in the ancient past a mountain or volcano erupted, spewing tons of flowing mud down mountain and hill. Eventually it solidified into grey rock but still has that look of a mud flow. Smooth in spots, rippled in others, there are dips that are treacherous to walk over but where wind and rain have blown deposits of soil over the centuries. There in those protected trenches are a myriad of plant life, some unique to that area.
The Burren butts up to a rugged shoreline near Kinvara, but on the higher hills it is barren stone, short shrubs and the tiny plants that grow in their coves. Everywhere through this area are stone walls and hill forts that were stacked by hand centuries ago. In fact the stone walls are abundant throughout Ireland but rule supreme in the Burren. The stones might be stacked on their edges, resting against each other, placed flat on top of each other, or made with their widest sides facing out. Some are mortared, and they are ageless. They could have been built a week ago or a thousand years ago. They were used as natural boundaries, pens for cattle and sheep and as fortifications. I’ve been told that they now work at protecting species of flora and fauna throughout the emerald isle, working as borders where invasive species don’t encroach.
Upon the Burren with its hard, alien looking surface, unable to really support any crop, somehow people eked out a life, for centuries. And topping it was Poulnabrone Dolmen, a passage tomb made of four giant slabs of stone with a fifth resting atop them like a table. You can look through beneath the table stone, from one world perhaps to the next. It has stood for over 5,000 years, a part of every person’s life who lived upon the Burren.
All lands have stone in one form or another. Rock is the foundation of our world from its magma core to the volcanic eruptions and tectonic shifts that show our planet is alive. From sand and pebble to rock and boulder, stones have always been there to support and shelter. The Irish reuse the stones from any old building torn down, reworking it into something new.
The strong sense of the history of the stones, from the monasteries and castles to the cemetery tombs and headstones, to the walls and hill forts, they all spoke of a true Irish intimacy with stone. There is history, life and death. There is art, utilitarian purpose and mystery. And most of all, there is community; thousand of years of life with each person using what had come before, the ruins or the dead not forgotten but integrated into continuing family rituals. Ireland truly taught me the endurance of time and of stories shown in its stone, its very foundation.
The Burren was as impressive in its way as the Giants Causeway. At some point in the ancient past a mountain or volcano erupted, spewing tons of flowing mud down mountain and hill. Eventually it solidified into grey rock but still has that look of a mud flow. Smooth in spots, rippled in others, there are dips that are treacherous to walk over but where wind and rain have blown deposits of soil over the centuries. There in those protected trenches are a myriad of plant life, some unique to that area.
The Burren butts up to a rugged shoreline near Kinvara, but on the higher hills it is barren stone, short shrubs and the tiny plants that grow in their coves. Everywhere through this area are stone walls and hill forts that were stacked by hand centuries ago. In fact the stone walls are abundant throughout Ireland but rule supreme in the Burren. The stones might be stacked on their edges, resting against each other, placed flat on top of each other, or made with their widest sides facing out. Some are mortared, and they are ageless. They could have been built a week ago or a thousand years ago. They were used as natural boundaries, pens for cattle and sheep and as fortifications. I’ve been told that they now work at protecting species of flora and fauna throughout the emerald isle, working as borders where invasive species don’t encroach.
Upon the Burren with its hard, alien looking surface, unable to really support any crop, somehow people eked out a life, for centuries. And topping it was Poulnabrone Dolmen, a passage tomb made of four giant slabs of stone with a fifth resting atop them like a table. You can look through beneath the table stone, from one world perhaps to the next. It has stood for over 5,000 years, a part of every person’s life who lived upon the Burren.
All lands have stone in one form or another. Rock is the foundation of our world from its magma core to the volcanic eruptions and tectonic shifts that show our planet is alive. From sand and pebble to rock and boulder, stones have always been there to support and shelter. The Irish reuse the stones from any old building torn down, reworking it into something new.
The strong sense of the history of the stones, from the monasteries and castles to the cemetery tombs and headstones, to the walls and hill forts, they all spoke of a true Irish intimacy with stone. There is history, life and death. There is art, utilitarian purpose and mystery. And most of all, there is community; thousand of years of life with each person using what had come before, the ruins or the dead not forgotten but integrated into continuing family rituals. Ireland truly taught me the endurance of time and of stories shown in its stone, its very foundation.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Stones of Ireland: I
In October, 2007 I travelled to Ireland, a place I had wanted to visit for years. I’m not sure why exactly as there is no Irish in my blood and other countries have more and bigger castles. It was more the sense of rolling green hills and the land of faery, a romantic notion perhaps.
We circumnavigated Ireland in two weeks, going north, then west, then south and east, starting and ending in Dublin. There were some key sites we wanted to see but then let ourselves be guided by road signs and guide books.
This was a mostly outdoor expedition involving trips to old castles and monasteries and some cemeteries, as well as driving through the changing landscape. The history of the architecture and how it had changed over time was fascinating, small enclosures and Viking settlements built over with increasingly sophisticated fortifications or ecclesiastical buildings.
Newgrange and Knowth were amazing in that these structures were built over 5,000 years ago and are older than the pyramids of Egypt. Some of the passage tombs fell apart or were scavenged for stones for other buildings and roads. Many of these barrows have a corridor or an interior built with slabs of stone, then dirt is mounded over. Newgrange's corbeled stone roof has never leaked in 5,000 years. The hummocked hills gave rise to the tales of the homes of the sidhe and the Tuatha de Danan.
Other barrows were built over with time, dirt being added, and villages or cattle settling upon them. Some of their original use is a mystery but some contain bones or human ashes. Others may have been ceremonial or religious structures. Newgrange is the most impressive as it was built upon a hill and the outer wall lined with white quartz (this was rebuilt in more recent times and there is argument as to how it may actually have been placed), which would be striking in the bright sun and visible for miles around.
Giants Causeway on the north coat of Northern Ireland was a natural structure of basalt rock that had been rapidly heated and cooled millennia ago causing large octagonal pillars to form. They break apart in slabs, maintaining their structure and can be walked over like steps. Some form natural seats or chairs. There is a section called the organ because it looks like a giant pipe organ in the hill. There seems to only be that one area in Ireland that has such unique stones.
The castles and monasteries abounded as well as the very old cemetery of Monasterboice with the millennium old tower (imagine Rapunzel) that they believe was used for storage, sanctuary and watch for marauders. Some of the carvings on pillars still showed wonderful detail; leaves, faces both animal and human, various designs. Some of the blocks of stone seemed to have been placed with a sense of tone, dark and light stones alternating, or smaller pebbles placed in the mortar between larger stones.
Over the centuries many of these castles and churches fell into ruin but they were not abandoned. Tombs and graves pepper every place. The oldest monastery floors are nothing but tomb after tomb. There is nothing to do but walk over the bones of the past. Even walls have been taken over, a person interred into the very foundation and a plaque sealing them in. The oldest readable stones go to the 1700s. Older than that, the words become too worn away, by feet and weather. There are graves dating over a thousand years in some cases, right up to months of the current date.
Some graveyards have been held by the ruling families or clans and there might be dozens of McDonnells buried in one area such as Ballycastle. Other graves are family plots and in the more modern ones, configured by a low fence, a bar, about six inches from the ground. These more modern plots have pebbled glass or stone in different combinations of colour and some flowers, real or not. Some are very individual. Headstones often denote many generations entombed in the plot, going back a century or more. At one Benedictine monastery there was a family of four cleaning and smoothing the stones of their family’s plot on a sunny day.
Continued tomorrow (images of Ireland can be seen by going back through my posts. If you can't find them, let me know.)
We circumnavigated Ireland in two weeks, going north, then west, then south and east, starting and ending in Dublin. There were some key sites we wanted to see but then let ourselves be guided by road signs and guide books.
This was a mostly outdoor expedition involving trips to old castles and monasteries and some cemeteries, as well as driving through the changing landscape. The history of the architecture and how it had changed over time was fascinating, small enclosures and Viking settlements built over with increasingly sophisticated fortifications or ecclesiastical buildings.
Newgrange and Knowth were amazing in that these structures were built over 5,000 years ago and are older than the pyramids of Egypt. Some of the passage tombs fell apart or were scavenged for stones for other buildings and roads. Many of these barrows have a corridor or an interior built with slabs of stone, then dirt is mounded over. Newgrange's corbeled stone roof has never leaked in 5,000 years. The hummocked hills gave rise to the tales of the homes of the sidhe and the Tuatha de Danan.
Other barrows were built over with time, dirt being added, and villages or cattle settling upon them. Some of their original use is a mystery but some contain bones or human ashes. Others may have been ceremonial or religious structures. Newgrange is the most impressive as it was built upon a hill and the outer wall lined with white quartz (this was rebuilt in more recent times and there is argument as to how it may actually have been placed), which would be striking in the bright sun and visible for miles around.
Giants Causeway on the north coat of Northern Ireland was a natural structure of basalt rock that had been rapidly heated and cooled millennia ago causing large octagonal pillars to form. They break apart in slabs, maintaining their structure and can be walked over like steps. Some form natural seats or chairs. There is a section called the organ because it looks like a giant pipe organ in the hill. There seems to only be that one area in Ireland that has such unique stones.
The castles and monasteries abounded as well as the very old cemetery of Monasterboice with the millennium old tower (imagine Rapunzel) that they believe was used for storage, sanctuary and watch for marauders. Some of the carvings on pillars still showed wonderful detail; leaves, faces both animal and human, various designs. Some of the blocks of stone seemed to have been placed with a sense of tone, dark and light stones alternating, or smaller pebbles placed in the mortar between larger stones.
Over the centuries many of these castles and churches fell into ruin but they were not abandoned. Tombs and graves pepper every place. The oldest monastery floors are nothing but tomb after tomb. There is nothing to do but walk over the bones of the past. Even walls have been taken over, a person interred into the very foundation and a plaque sealing them in. The oldest readable stones go to the 1700s. Older than that, the words become too worn away, by feet and weather. There are graves dating over a thousand years in some cases, right up to months of the current date.
Some graveyards have been held by the ruling families or clans and there might be dozens of McDonnells buried in one area such as Ballycastle. Other graves are family plots and in the more modern ones, configured by a low fence, a bar, about six inches from the ground. These more modern plots have pebbled glass or stone in different combinations of colour and some flowers, real or not. Some are very individual. Headstones often denote many generations entombed in the plot, going back a century or more. At one Benedictine monastery there was a family of four cleaning and smoothing the stones of their family’s plot on a sunny day.
Continued tomorrow (images of Ireland can be seen by going back through my posts. If you can't find them, let me know.)
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The Black Hole
I'm not sure any of this will make sense. I have three blogs: Wordpress, here and Live Journal. I recently stopped posting to Live Journal because although it was more the community aspect and personal side of life I found it wasn't communication. Many people post/read to keep track of each other but how much can you read about one person's theses, knitting, angst, writing, etc. every day?
At least it does let you know what someone you know is doing and you can check in from time to time. But for communication, it didn't work very well. Few people would ever respond to my posts, not that responses were required most times, as I didn't respond to everyone else's.
But when I asked a question, even a serious question, I would only get a few comments and fewer rarely answering the question. Of the thirty or so people supposedly reading my journal, I believe at least 5-10 read periodically or not at all. The others are fairly steady. I'd sometimes post questions to their posts and would likewise receive no response when I asked a question.
When I decided I was wasting my time and would go back to writing in a paper journal and I posted this to the site; no one commented. Which told me everyone is too busy, or no one cared or no one read. Good reasons to stop. Two people wanted to know where my other blogs were and that was it. So communication, no. One way info blurbs, sure.
I have enough to do anyways and three blogs is a bit too much for me. I repeat myself, like a creaky wheel. Most of us aren't that witty in the day to day and then it becomes boring.
But then perhaps I'm in a vortex. I've sent emails to people and received no answer. I've called people and received no answer. Not everyone, mind you, but many things and many time sensitive questions. Enough that I've begun to wonder if my communications are broken. It's a very odd feeling, feeling like one is in a black hole.
As a pagan, I put out calls (so to speak) to the gods (a general concept with more explanation needed) and there is no answer there. Soon I'll pull the plug there too. One last week to get some sort of positive (as opposed to negative--I have enough of that) response or I'll walk away. I'm not a catnip toy after all; to be toyed with when it amuses one and forgotten the rest of the time.
At least it does let you know what someone you know is doing and you can check in from time to time. But for communication, it didn't work very well. Few people would ever respond to my posts, not that responses were required most times, as I didn't respond to everyone else's.
But when I asked a question, even a serious question, I would only get a few comments and fewer rarely answering the question. Of the thirty or so people supposedly reading my journal, I believe at least 5-10 read periodically or not at all. The others are fairly steady. I'd sometimes post questions to their posts and would likewise receive no response when I asked a question.
When I decided I was wasting my time and would go back to writing in a paper journal and I posted this to the site; no one commented. Which told me everyone is too busy, or no one cared or no one read. Good reasons to stop. Two people wanted to know where my other blogs were and that was it. So communication, no. One way info blurbs, sure.
I have enough to do anyways and three blogs is a bit too much for me. I repeat myself, like a creaky wheel. Most of us aren't that witty in the day to day and then it becomes boring.
But then perhaps I'm in a vortex. I've sent emails to people and received no answer. I've called people and received no answer. Not everyone, mind you, but many things and many time sensitive questions. Enough that I've begun to wonder if my communications are broken. It's a very odd feeling, feeling like one is in a black hole.
As a pagan, I put out calls (so to speak) to the gods (a general concept with more explanation needed) and there is no answer there. Soon I'll pull the plug there too. One last week to get some sort of positive (as opposed to negative--I have enough of that) response or I'll walk away. I'm not a catnip toy after all; to be toyed with when it amuses one and forgotten the rest of the time.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Tying up Loose Ends
I have several stories that are nearly finished. In some cases I've been writing them for years. I may have had a great idea but not figured out how to tie up the ending or how to resolve the conflict. Sometimes it was a setting or premise. Sometimes I just get bogged down.
I'm now very close with about three stories. I finally finished the web one which I retitled "Ensnared" though I'm not so happy with that title. I struggled with that ending for a while. Whereas "Shoes" was easy to write and finish. I now have one on the Germanic goddess Berchta, one on barge people and one I'm trying to write for Sword & Sorceress. That one will be completed first. The other two I might have started as long ago as ten years ago. I'm a lot closer to the endings. Berchta will come next but I don't want to ruin it. The problem with taking so long is the voice can change through the story so I have to be diligent.
After that--actually during--I have to make sure my chapters and outline are as good as they're going to get and send them off for the Kansas workshop (flight is booked!). Then I must write two erotic tales by the end of June as they are nearly for-sure sales if I get them done. I'm not writing fast but I am writing.
I'm now very close with about three stories. I finally finished the web one which I retitled "Ensnared" though I'm not so happy with that title. I struggled with that ending for a while. Whereas "Shoes" was easy to write and finish. I now have one on the Germanic goddess Berchta, one on barge people and one I'm trying to write for Sword & Sorceress. That one will be completed first. The other two I might have started as long ago as ten years ago. I'm a lot closer to the endings. Berchta will come next but I don't want to ruin it. The problem with taking so long is the voice can change through the story so I have to be diligent.
After that--actually during--I have to make sure my chapters and outline are as good as they're going to get and send them off for the Kansas workshop (flight is booked!). Then I must write two erotic tales by the end of June as they are nearly for-sure sales if I get them done. I'm not writing fast but I am writing.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Tooth Troubles
Our lovely health system doesn't cover teeth. My job has no medical/dental plan. I've been trying to put aside $900 since January for a tooth I broke over the holidays and requires a crown. In the meantime, a tooth that was refilled last year decided to move on to the next stage. It started aching with eating hot food and then causing other teeth to ache.
It's one of my front teeth. My dentist tried to go in but she couldn't get it to freeze and I can't take regular freezing with epinephrine. And it turns out it's a mutant tooth having two roots. Front teeth should only have one. So I have to go to the specialist. I'm quoted $800-$1200 for the root canal only. That's not looking at another crown.
I have just enough money to cover the root canal and then that's it. I thought I could pay down my charge card but alas that's not in the cards. So it goes. Perhaps some day the government might see that dental health is essential to overall health. The thing is, I won't even have pretty teeth after this. They're fairly crooked and I've been told it would be $10,000 plus. Right, I'll just dip into the piggy bank.
It's one of my front teeth. My dentist tried to go in but she couldn't get it to freeze and I can't take regular freezing with epinephrine. And it turns out it's a mutant tooth having two roots. Front teeth should only have one. So I have to go to the specialist. I'm quoted $800-$1200 for the root canal only. That's not looking at another crown.
I have just enough money to cover the root canal and then that's it. I thought I could pay down my charge card but alas that's not in the cards. So it goes. Perhaps some day the government might see that dental health is essential to overall health. The thing is, I won't even have pretty teeth after this. They're fairly crooked and I've been told it would be $10,000 plus. Right, I'll just dip into the piggy bank.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Publishing News
I've recently received word that my story will be out in Nemonymous 8: Cone Zero. I'm not allowed to name the story until the published anthology has been out for eight months. Nemonymous is a British publication by DF Lewis. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nemonymous
The stories are published but the author names (I believe) are listed at the back of the book/magazine with no credit given to a particular story. In the subsequent issue, the story and author are matched up. The pay is much like any other anthology in the speculative genre; a little more since it's in British pounds. This story should be out in June this year.
As well, as of mid-March I've become the senior fantasy editor at Aberrant Dreams. This is to help with the flow and hopefully bring the magazine up to more consistent output as its been sporadic. http://www.hd-image.com/main.htm Joe Dickerson is one of the two originators of the online magazine (Lonny Harper is the other) and he has recently been publishing some books as well. His time was being consumed, with too many decisions getting log-jammed. I'm not sure who is the head horror editor and Joe may be the main SF editor still. Marcie Tentchoff is the poetry editor.
Good news is that new material went up this week and as far as fantasy goes, we're review material sent within our 5-month timeframe. This does not include some stories waiting for final approval that Joe has or that I still have. I'm hoping to get through this in the next week. The sad thing is that there are many very good stories but I'll be limited to sending one on a month to Joe. That means some works will be rejected so that they're just not held forever. It's a tough market out there with more good stories than funds or room to publish in many magazines.
Which just tells me that writers should have faith. Rejection may not even be because the story is bad at all.
The stories are published but the author names (I believe) are listed at the back of the book/magazine with no credit given to a particular story. In the subsequent issue, the story and author are matched up. The pay is much like any other anthology in the speculative genre; a little more since it's in British pounds. This story should be out in June this year.
As well, as of mid-March I've become the senior fantasy editor at Aberrant Dreams. This is to help with the flow and hopefully bring the magazine up to more consistent output as its been sporadic. http://www.hd-image.com/main.htm Joe Dickerson is one of the two originators of the online magazine (Lonny Harper is the other) and he has recently been publishing some books as well. His time was being consumed, with too many decisions getting log-jammed. I'm not sure who is the head horror editor and Joe may be the main SF editor still. Marcie Tentchoff is the poetry editor.
Good news is that new material went up this week and as far as fantasy goes, we're review material sent within our 5-month timeframe. This does not include some stories waiting for final approval that Joe has or that I still have. I'm hoping to get through this in the next week. The sad thing is that there are many very good stories but I'll be limited to sending one on a month to Joe. That means some works will be rejected so that they're just not held forever. It's a tough market out there with more good stories than funds or room to publish in many magazines.
Which just tells me that writers should have faith. Rejection may not even be because the story is bad at all.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Arts Council Grants
Recently I decided that it would be beneficial to take a novel writing workshop in Kansas this summer, sponsored by the Center for the Study of Science Fiction. http://www2.ku.edu/~sfcenter/novel-workshop.htm It's a two-week concentrated effort on brainstorming, smoothing out and progressing to a saleable outline and/or chapters. The setting is with a small group of people so it allows for uninterrupted time on the masterpiece in bud.
The workshop itself is not that expensive but by the time you add lodging, food and transportation it isn't necessarily cheap. I decided to apply for a Canada Council grant and a BC Arts Council grant. The last time I even entertained applying for any sort of travel grant I didn't have enough credentials to make it into the process.
I started with the BC Arts Council grant as it had a tighter deadline. This one required a related CV, letter of acceptance, two reference letters, description of the project, letter outlining what I would be doing and how it would benefit me and my career, sample of written work, and a list of published credits, which means title, publisher, date, number of pages and that it must be in a legitimate publication for which there is a review process and payment. The council asked for 120 pages of published fiction, or 40 pages of published poetry. I have many many poems published but since I'm applying in a fiction field I thought it best to include as many fiction credits as possible.
This meant I had to go through all the copies of my published works that I have at home. Luckily I have always kept a list which had title, publication and publisher, editor and date. So what I really needed was to confirm the volume or publication numbers and the number of pages. It took a couple of nights to go through this and some searching on the internet but I completed it all. The very helpful Walter Quan at BC Arts also answered all my questions, including that I could combine poetry and fiction to get the full amount and even use my erotic fiction if it went through the proper review process, which it did.
Next was getting the letters of recommendation which also assess the study project and its worth. Sure I've been published but I'm still fairly unknown so who would know my work enough to comment on it and the workshop? Friend and famously bad communicator Ed Bryant could have done it but trying to get him to send me something on time would have been nigh impossible. Luckily Kij Johnson, who leads the workshop is an astoundingly good writer and a friend. So that was one letter but I needed the second. I finally thought back to my story that received the most recognition, "Hold Back the Night" in the Open Space anthology. Claude Lalumiere had been an amazing editor, working with me and getting me through two rewrites to bring out the best potential of the story. He's since rejected a story of mine but I felt he might be willing and he was. They both gave encouraging support in their letters.
By far the hardest part was writing up how the workshop would benefit my career and what it would give me. I took the longest on that and submitted everything before the March 15 deadline. BC Arts will only pay half of the total budget of the project so I then focused on Canada Council. It was interesting, and I noted to the BC Arts contact, that more writing was required by BC Arts than Canada Council (CC requires about 40 pages of published writing). He said this was because BC Arts has less money to go around and therefore must raise the bar.
For Canada Council I didn't apply for a study assistance as for BC Arts, but for a travel grant. They say travel grants can't be used for a host of things including workshops where their primary purpose is training. It becomes a gray area as this workshop is more brainstorming and concentrating on revision (darn, wish I'd said that in the application) so I had to word my letter carefully. Although no letters of recommendation were required I added the two I had received. I had to also add a budget and place of publication for all of my credits, so it was back to the bookcase again to get that information. I found one poem not even listed on my CV and now I have all my information in a consistent form for any further needs.
The Canada Council application went off at the end of March. Now I wait to see if I received one or both of the applications. It's an interesting process especially in comparison of the two application processes. There are larger grants, which if I'm successful I might apply for to finish the novel. The requirements become more stringent at that level. For now, I work on the novel outline for the workshop.
The workshop itself is not that expensive but by the time you add lodging, food and transportation it isn't necessarily cheap. I decided to apply for a Canada Council grant and a BC Arts Council grant. The last time I even entertained applying for any sort of travel grant I didn't have enough credentials to make it into the process.
I started with the BC Arts Council grant as it had a tighter deadline. This one required a related CV, letter of acceptance, two reference letters, description of the project, letter outlining what I would be doing and how it would benefit me and my career, sample of written work, and a list of published credits, which means title, publisher, date, number of pages and that it must be in a legitimate publication for which there is a review process and payment. The council asked for 120 pages of published fiction, or 40 pages of published poetry. I have many many poems published but since I'm applying in a fiction field I thought it best to include as many fiction credits as possible.
This meant I had to go through all the copies of my published works that I have at home. Luckily I have always kept a list which had title, publication and publisher, editor and date. So what I really needed was to confirm the volume or publication numbers and the number of pages. It took a couple of nights to go through this and some searching on the internet but I completed it all. The very helpful Walter Quan at BC Arts also answered all my questions, including that I could combine poetry and fiction to get the full amount and even use my erotic fiction if it went through the proper review process, which it did.
Next was getting the letters of recommendation which also assess the study project and its worth. Sure I've been published but I'm still fairly unknown so who would know my work enough to comment on it and the workshop? Friend and famously bad communicator Ed Bryant could have done it but trying to get him to send me something on time would have been nigh impossible. Luckily Kij Johnson, who leads the workshop is an astoundingly good writer and a friend. So that was one letter but I needed the second. I finally thought back to my story that received the most recognition, "Hold Back the Night" in the Open Space anthology. Claude Lalumiere had been an amazing editor, working with me and getting me through two rewrites to bring out the best potential of the story. He's since rejected a story of mine but I felt he might be willing and he was. They both gave encouraging support in their letters.
By far the hardest part was writing up how the workshop would benefit my career and what it would give me. I took the longest on that and submitted everything before the March 15 deadline. BC Arts will only pay half of the total budget of the project so I then focused on Canada Council. It was interesting, and I noted to the BC Arts contact, that more writing was required by BC Arts than Canada Council (CC requires about 40 pages of published writing). He said this was because BC Arts has less money to go around and therefore must raise the bar.
For Canada Council I didn't apply for a study assistance as for BC Arts, but for a travel grant. They say travel grants can't be used for a host of things including workshops where their primary purpose is training. It becomes a gray area as this workshop is more brainstorming and concentrating on revision (darn, wish I'd said that in the application) so I had to word my letter carefully. Although no letters of recommendation were required I added the two I had received. I had to also add a budget and place of publication for all of my credits, so it was back to the bookcase again to get that information. I found one poem not even listed on my CV and now I have all my information in a consistent form for any further needs.
The Canada Council application went off at the end of March. Now I wait to see if I received one or both of the applications. It's an interesting process especially in comparison of the two application processes. There are larger grants, which if I'm successful I might apply for to finish the novel. The requirements become more stringent at that level. For now, I work on the novel outline for the workshop.
Friday, March 14, 2008
On the High Horse: Greater Vancouver’s Attitude Toward Transportation
Transportation has always been an issue, but as gas prices bloat and government brings in carbon taxes, toll bridges (the Port Mann bridge is scheduled to have a toll booth, which will slow down the traffic even more) and other measures, all under the guise of being green, it means that people will want to seek alternative means.
Over the years, yes, people have relied more and more on their cars. When I was a child I would walk the ten-twenty blocks to school. These days everyone drives their kids. That’s partly because of the greater fear of predators, not to mention traffic has become exceedlingly congested and inconsiderate, making it unsafe for younger children.
Housing prices have become exorbitant so people have to buy farther and farther out and then commute to work. If you live east of Vancouver you have the choice of taking buses; not a time efficent mode. There is the West Coast Express or a combination of SkyTrain and buses. The first is prohibitively expensive for many. But let’s look at using buses and SkyTrain. The farther out you live, the more you pay for a bus ride as the GVRD (now changing their name to Metro Vancouver)/Coast Mountain Bus have conjointly allowed for the area to be split into zones. Which means you are punished for living farther from the downtown core.
Many people, including me, have opted to continue driving as it was cheaper for gas than a bus pass and more time effiicient. Mexico City, with a population of plus 25 million keeps their trains cheap or the city would freeze from gridlock and completely decay from the pollution, which is already extremely bad. Cities like New York have an efficient subway system that runs frequently to all the boroughs and is comparably priced.
Efficiency means reliable. The bus/train system here has suffered from numerous breakdowns, especially in the winter. The stations are filthy and have a high criminal element lurking about. There has been a recent change to the stations with brighter lighting being put in and more security around the platforms. However, the level of filth (dirt, spit, gum, spills) on some of the platforms is still fairly high.
As well, people have been stranded when an overfull bus passes them by and there is no later one running. “Reliable transportation” would include buses running frequently and on time. Somehow the city decided it was a good idea to let downtown clubs and bars be open till 4:00 am if they wanted, but Coast Mountain closes down the SkyTrain just after midnight and the buses become infrequent or stop running to some areas far before most bars close. Incidences of weekend car thefts go up because somebody has come to town to party and find they can’t get home. I’d love to know who was the brainiac that thought that part out.
Taxis are likewise impossible to find on a weekend and would be too expensive to most other cities. Sure you can ride a bike, if you trust the drivers. I don’t, and that’s a story for another day. The public is held by the short and curlies. The GVRD, Coast Mountain and the BC government continue to tax everyone, raise prices of local transportation and add more tolls. They want to encourage us to use less fuel, mostly to garner votes in the “green” category. But where are the viable alternatives? Not enough public transportation that is affordable, reliable, safe and timely leaves people with spending more for not better.
Stress levels will increase, pollution won’t lessen because the green alternatives are missing. In the long run, this is the GVRD’s and the government’s ways of having more money coming in without putting effort in to true alternatives.
Over the years, yes, people have relied more and more on their cars. When I was a child I would walk the ten-twenty blocks to school. These days everyone drives their kids. That’s partly because of the greater fear of predators, not to mention traffic has become exceedlingly congested and inconsiderate, making it unsafe for younger children.
Housing prices have become exorbitant so people have to buy farther and farther out and then commute to work. If you live east of Vancouver you have the choice of taking buses; not a time efficent mode. There is the West Coast Express or a combination of SkyTrain and buses. The first is prohibitively expensive for many. But let’s look at using buses and SkyTrain. The farther out you live, the more you pay for a bus ride as the GVRD (now changing their name to Metro Vancouver)/Coast Mountain Bus have conjointly allowed for the area to be split into zones. Which means you are punished for living farther from the downtown core.
Many people, including me, have opted to continue driving as it was cheaper for gas than a bus pass and more time effiicient. Mexico City, with a population of plus 25 million keeps their trains cheap or the city would freeze from gridlock and completely decay from the pollution, which is already extremely bad. Cities like New York have an efficient subway system that runs frequently to all the boroughs and is comparably priced.
Efficiency means reliable. The bus/train system here has suffered from numerous breakdowns, especially in the winter. The stations are filthy and have a high criminal element lurking about. There has been a recent change to the stations with brighter lighting being put in and more security around the platforms. However, the level of filth (dirt, spit, gum, spills) on some of the platforms is still fairly high.
As well, people have been stranded when an overfull bus passes them by and there is no later one running. “Reliable transportation” would include buses running frequently and on time. Somehow the city decided it was a good idea to let downtown clubs and bars be open till 4:00 am if they wanted, but Coast Mountain closes down the SkyTrain just after midnight and the buses become infrequent or stop running to some areas far before most bars close. Incidences of weekend car thefts go up because somebody has come to town to party and find they can’t get home. I’d love to know who was the brainiac that thought that part out.
Taxis are likewise impossible to find on a weekend and would be too expensive to most other cities. Sure you can ride a bike, if you trust the drivers. I don’t, and that’s a story for another day. The public is held by the short and curlies. The GVRD, Coast Mountain and the BC government continue to tax everyone, raise prices of local transportation and add more tolls. They want to encourage us to use less fuel, mostly to garner votes in the “green” category. But where are the viable alternatives? Not enough public transportation that is affordable, reliable, safe and timely leaves people with spending more for not better.
Stress levels will increase, pollution won’t lessen because the green alternatives are missing. In the long run, this is the GVRD’s and the government’s ways of having more money coming in without putting effort in to true alternatives.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Carbon Tax: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
The latest craze that even the government on all levels has realized brings popularity and kudos, is to go green. From civic to federal governments, this last year we've seen such buzz words as "eco, green, carbon tax and environment."
Vancouver mayor Sam Sullivan has been championing his "eco-density" movement as we move closer to an election campaign. For the busy, unthinking or easily duped they hear the word "eco" and will go, Oh it must be good for us and the environment, so I'll vote Sam. What does it really mean? It's another word for condo, high-rise and sardine city. Eco-density, like the use of collateral damage to mean dead people, is just disguising the continual downgrading of our living spaces to smaller and smaller areas for higher prices. Oh, but they'll put a little greenspace outside so that when you're pressed up against the glass and staring down five stories, you can dream of a previous era where people gamboled in the grass.
The BC government, so good at tearing up contracts and firing hospital workers to the tune of saving money, cleanliness issues and losing lives, who started singing the song of saving our environment has just instituted the carbon tax, to take place June 1. Because, they parrot, it will make people use gas less and think of greener alternatives. Supposedly it will affect every use of fuel, including those who have to heat their homes this way. Much better to let those little old people with their thinly insulated skin shudder away and wrap up in old blankets. Then the government can say, well look at them; aren't they doing a great job.
The carbon tax makes no sense. It's like saying, oh people are buying too much food, so we'll raise the price of food. The rich will just pay more and the poor people will eat less and starve. It wouldn't be so bad if there were cheap, viable and environmental alternatives. But there aren't. A hybrid car is already more expensive than a gas-powered car. But the federal government was giving a $2000 rebate should you buy one. The price was still more than a cheaper gas car and the federal government decided it sends a better message to get rid of the rebate.
Bus/SkyTrain transportation is so expensive that it was still cheaper for me to take my car to New Westminster from Vancouver than to take the bus and its requisite hassles (not reliable, not always in time, strange, sometimes dangerous street people). I'll have to check again but the green alternatives aren't there. Those buses still spew gas. Electric or hydrogen buses would be better.
Perhaps the government thinks it's a fivolous option for people to go to work. There are many smaller areas and farm communities where people must drive to go anywhere. It really doesn't help them and punishes them. Not to mention, the truck drivers that haul goods and food across the country are doing us a service. Perhaps they should stop driving too. Oh no, of course not; the price of everything will just go up.
Should I even mention that this does nothing for the existent problem of pollution and greenhouse gases and it's the least effective (energetic) way of implementing change. I'd like to know what the tax money will go to except lining government coffers. Bringing in better mass transportation and alternatives would make the carbon tax more feasible if it was actually applied to the big users. If even the little people, the poor people and those who have no choice are punished, it just means that in the end as always, the poor will get poorer and the rich will just continue to pay more to consume the same amount.
Vancouver mayor Sam Sullivan has been championing his "eco-density" movement as we move closer to an election campaign. For the busy, unthinking or easily duped they hear the word "eco" and will go, Oh it must be good for us and the environment, so I'll vote Sam. What does it really mean? It's another word for condo, high-rise and sardine city. Eco-density, like the use of collateral damage to mean dead people, is just disguising the continual downgrading of our living spaces to smaller and smaller areas for higher prices. Oh, but they'll put a little greenspace outside so that when you're pressed up against the glass and staring down five stories, you can dream of a previous era where people gamboled in the grass.
The BC government, so good at tearing up contracts and firing hospital workers to the tune of saving money, cleanliness issues and losing lives, who started singing the song of saving our environment has just instituted the carbon tax, to take place June 1. Because, they parrot, it will make people use gas less and think of greener alternatives. Supposedly it will affect every use of fuel, including those who have to heat their homes this way. Much better to let those little old people with their thinly insulated skin shudder away and wrap up in old blankets. Then the government can say, well look at them; aren't they doing a great job.
The carbon tax makes no sense. It's like saying, oh people are buying too much food, so we'll raise the price of food. The rich will just pay more and the poor people will eat less and starve. It wouldn't be so bad if there were cheap, viable and environmental alternatives. But there aren't. A hybrid car is already more expensive than a gas-powered car. But the federal government was giving a $2000 rebate should you buy one. The price was still more than a cheaper gas car and the federal government decided it sends a better message to get rid of the rebate.
Bus/SkyTrain transportation is so expensive that it was still cheaper for me to take my car to New Westminster from Vancouver than to take the bus and its requisite hassles (not reliable, not always in time, strange, sometimes dangerous street people). I'll have to check again but the green alternatives aren't there. Those buses still spew gas. Electric or hydrogen buses would be better.
Perhaps the government thinks it's a fivolous option for people to go to work. There are many smaller areas and farm communities where people must drive to go anywhere. It really doesn't help them and punishes them. Not to mention, the truck drivers that haul goods and food across the country are doing us a service. Perhaps they should stop driving too. Oh no, of course not; the price of everything will just go up.
Should I even mention that this does nothing for the existent problem of pollution and greenhouse gases and it's the least effective (energetic) way of implementing change. I'd like to know what the tax money will go to except lining government coffers. Bringing in better mass transportation and alternatives would make the carbon tax more feasible if it was actually applied to the big users. If even the little people, the poor people and those who have no choice are punished, it just means that in the end as always, the poor will get poorer and the rich will just continue to pay more to consume the same amount.
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