Category Archives: Noodling

Generational Complaint

This isn’t based in logic, just custom and preference, but it grates on my nerves when I say thank you and am given back a “no problem.”

Argh!

I grew up with the please-thank you-you’re welcome mantra, and anything else simply sounds wrong. It especially sounds wrong in a professional or service capacity. It’s one thing for someone to say a casual “no problem” when I thank him for handing me a card in a game, but quite another for a waiter to say it when he brings my iced tea. I feel the percentage of the tip dropping in my head.

What’s funny is that I’ll go a long time without hearing this irritating response, and then suddenly it’s everywhere again for a while.

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Addicted to News [mini-rant]

What is it about other people’s drama that’s so enticing to read about? While I’ll always click on a cute kitty story, I find myself drawn even more to the negative news loops like a gawker at a traffic accident. Even when I already know the gist, I’ll click to see yet another POV ~ and then be disgusted with myself for wasting my own time. Stop!

Whether it’s politics or entertainment (not that there’s much diff), I am a glutton for punishment, stuffing myself at the 24-hour buffet of stupid “news.” And then I have the nerve to whine right here on my own blarg that wah wah I can’t find the time to write fiction any longer.

I told myself that quitting Facebook would free up loads of extra time, and it has, but I’ve been spending it reading about the Karjenners. Gahhh.

But seriously, Kylie is cuter sans the fillers.

Writing Misc.

I’ve read a few books lately that have broken some “rules.” They’ve mixed first-person and third between chapters. They’ve included pieces of a “destroyed” diary in italics, so the reader would know what was going on when the first-person protag didn’t. They’ve told stories in the present tense, first-person, and then stuck in an epilogue from another character. On and on. Yet, I enjoyed these novels. Just shows to go ya!

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I don’t have writer’s block. I’m not sure how to describe my “ailment.” I’ve written a boatload of bloggery lately, a bit of it fictional, some poetry for Twitter, etc. I still feel that all my previously outlined story and novel ideas have potential… but I can’t work on them, given my lifestyle.

One, I’m no longer capable of getting up at 5am and writing for a few hours before work. Just can’t do it. Maybe once a week, but not consistently like I did 10 years ago.

Two, I’m not capable of writing fiction for 3-4 hours at night after work. Or even two. I’m tired. I can fling off a blog poast and some texts, but my eyeballs rebel at doing solid screen work.

Three, I’m too OCD to let my cleaning and chores mount up on weekends to write. I need to get stuff done. And I enjoy seeing movies, hanging with friends, and, most of all, spending time with family when I can. I’m not going to give up that stuff to pound out chapters of a book only a dozen people at best will ever read. Not motivated.

But that’s not the same as writer’s block. If I had the time ~ if I were retired, forex ~ I’d be cranking out those stories like I did years ago when I had more energy. They are still in my head. Dunno how long they’ll stay there. That’s a different issue.

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Conversation with my daughter…

Me: I don’t feel safe putting my documents in the cloud.

Sharon: Why not?

Me: Because I’ve already shared a photo folder with people, so they might be able to see all of them.

Sharon: You’ve sent emails to people. Can they read all your other ones?

Me: Good point.

Sharon: Now I know how Mark Zuckerberg felt in front of Congress.

No Sinning Here

Today I read that one of the seven deadly blogging sins was jabbering on too much about oneself without giving something to the reader, so before I indulge in more navel-glazery tonight I will give back. Yes indeed. Here is a lovely link to my books you can buy. Now, please don’t say I never gave anything to my blogfans!

Okay then.

The otter day I commented somewhere (can’t remember where) that I’m a chatty introvert. I meant to talk more about this because it’s interesting to me, since it’s about myself, and honestly what could be more interesting than meeee?

I enjoy my own company and am happy in solitude ~ reading, writing, organizing stuff, watching a movie, chilling with the cat, etc. I’m fine going the whole weekend without talking to another person as long as I know my kids are okay. My office is quiet too, and I like that; I don’t chat much with people usually nor do I go to lunch with anyone. I think I’m probably more of a loner than the average introvert. My friends call themselves introverts too, but they seem to need much more social time than I do.

However! Speaking of friends, and being social generally, when I’m with people, I’m on. I talk. I talk a lot. I’m an open book. I’m warm and friendly, not shy, not quiet, not reserved at all. You really can’t shut me up, basically. I’ve even done open-mic stand-up comedy!

But after a few hours or so, my energy level will sink like a phone battery with a million apps open. I’ll become noticeably drained to the point that peeps might comment on it. My head feels too heavy for my neck… it’s overloaded with all the peopleness in the room. So much sensory input. Eventually I can’t process one bit more. Must escape!

I recharge again by being alone.

So Many Photos!

I’m a bit compulsively organized, as I may have mentioned previously. So, it was already bugging me that I had a giant box full of disorderly photos. They were of my children and my pets, my exes and my parents, ancient relatives, random friends, cakes and flowers, and whatever else, all spanning like a hundred freaking years. There were “leftovers” that hadn’t made it into my cute memory albums, duplicates I couldn’t bear to dump, and sepia shots of strange people who possibly are related to me.

I tried not to think about this too much, even though the box was lurking right there in my hall closet like a sleeping demon.

But then my former sister-in-law gave one of my daughters another big box of photos consisting of all the photos I had given my in-laws over the years while they were alive. My daughters took the photos they wanted and gave me the rest, which was a lot. A lot.

Now what was I supposed to do? Add this box to the other, so they could weaponize against me? Hah. I know how that works: soon my closet would turn into the devil’s disaster zone. No thanks. Only one option ~ I bought big envelopes and am sorting all the photos into categories and filing them away.

It’s taking me longer than I expected. Some of the photos provoke memories that I stop and linger over for a minute or three. And some I struggle to categorize. My girls look very similar as babies; I’m happy when they’re both in the same shot so I can toss that one in the “sisters” envelope.

Now everything is on our phones and in “the cloud.” Don’t think I’m not making folders there. Are you kidding? My cloud is totes foldered up.

I am the Goddess of Folders!

I’ll Tumble For Ya

Ruth’s poast reminded me of a series of unfortunate events in my own life. I’ve remarked to friends and family lately that I’m extra careful about shoes/walking these days because of falling, but the truth is… I have always been a bit off-balance.

When I was a kid, it was pretty normal for me to trip over nothing and sprain my ankle. Never broke anything, but damn that hurt. I’d limp home and Mommy would ice my ankle and then wrap up my foot in an Ace bandage. Three days later I was good as new.

In Chicago, I was always slipping on the ice no matter what shoes or boots I wore. Most likely other people were falling too, but I assumed I was the clumsiest one. I took a particular nasty fall one night coming home from work and was covered in bruises for weeks. That was my last winter in Chi-town.

Out here in SoCal, I either had a break (har) from falls for a decade or so, or else my brain pushed out the tumble memories to make room for more important things, such as how my eldest daughter pronounced yogurt (new-moo, so cute!).

So, my recent falls aren’t something new, but simply a reminder of who I’ve been all along: Klutzy McKlutzface. Yet, it is scary to fall at my advanced age (50+)… that’s when people break and fracture bones. Not only that, but bruises take a long time to heal. Aches and pains linger around. Who needs more of those layered on top of the usual ones? Feh!

One of my friends suggested I get a mini flashlight to clip on my keychain ~ it helps when navigating dark parking lots. Those seem to be my particular kryptonite. The least little bump or slope and down I go. But I also stumble in broad daylight walking in sturdy shoes on a smooth surface. It’s just me.

Not Superstitious… Much

I don’t have the “normal” superstitions; in fact, I love black cats in particular. They’re so gorgeous! Well, all kittehs are adorable imo. I don’t fear walking under ladders, stepping on cracks, or the number thirteen. All my life, if someone told me a thing was “bad luck” I’d scoff at it.

However, I do have my own ideas about… shall we say “positive and negative energy.” I’ve noticed that if I use certain words or types of speech, unpleasantness tends to result soon afterward even though the result seems unconnected from my words. No, I’m not going to poast them here or tell you what they are! They exist. That is all. And I avoid them.

Since that is not logical, it qualifies as a superstition, I suppose.

There are certain numbers I associate with positivity, so I try to keep aligned with them when I can. But no numbers are bad.

I enjoy keeping things in my personal space organized in certain ways. Sometimes it’s at right angles, but not always. One of the key factors is that my space looks uncluttered and I can quickly find my things. But this isn’t a hard and fast rule because I do have some spots that may appear “cluttered,” yet to me they are arranged pleasantly. Forex, I’ve been keeping more greeting cards on bookshelves. I don’t know why ~ maybe it’s because people have been giving me really pretty ones the last several years. Also, one of my daughters has hand-drawn some.

I’m a big proponent of tossing stuff in the trash, except for the few things I want to hang onto forever. Why? Idk. Maybe I suspect they’re good luck charms.

Regarding the Discover Option [rant]

The “Discover” new blogs button isn’t unique to the WordPress app, of course ~ we can access it from our WP browser menu as well. I’ve clicked on it a few times over the years. And every time I exit in disgust a minute later. Why? I’ll tell you why!

Those blogs featured under Discover don’t need to be discovered cuz they’re already discovered AF. They have 500-700 likes already on the poasts we’re supposed to believe are new and interesting. Hey, let’s all discover The New York Times! Whoa. Bet we never thought of reading Newsweek or CNN. Hey, how about that obscure People magazine… bet they need some readers.

Feh. I would like to discover more blogs that have small readerships (like ahem mine) in order to help them grow. Talking about fun, interesting personal blogs for the most part, not those other kind. This is a major reason why I enjoy the games and prompts ~ they help me find new blogs to follow.

Big shout-out to the bloggers who have taken the time to start and maintain the prompts: Fandango, the WOTD group, Flash Fiction, et al. I plan to participate even more in these and other prompts because (1) they’re fun, (2) it’s cool to see the creative ideas others come up with, and (3) they provide a good avenue to find new blogs.

But I won’t be clicking on WP Discover again!

Age > Abundance

Summer is the season of plenty! From all the juicy ripe fruits available at the market to the plethora of outdoor concerts, there’s abundant deliciousness and fun to be had on a daily basis.

And yet… and yet… I find myself just as tired after work when the evening is warm and lovely as when it was dark and cold. I still don’t feel like doing much except going home to my sweet kitty and reading or watching a movie on Prime.

On weekends? Well, the weather may be perfect for the beach or a BBQ, but I still have to do laundry, dust, vacuum, grocery shop, etc., just the same as I did back in January. Gatsby’s litterbox does not take a summer vacay, unfortunately.

If I were a decade or three younger and single, I’m sure I’d be enjoying this great SoCal summer abundance ~ in fact, I can vaguely remember doing just that when I first moved out here in the 1980s. But, alas, I am old. Age > abundance.

Ch-ch-changes

I just downloaded the WordPress app and so far it seems fabulous! They’ve really improved it since I tried it a zillion years ago. It takes a lot of motivation for me to deviate from my habits, so this is a big deal, blogging from an app. Truth be told, I’m a bit resistant to apps in general, misliking the idea of cluttering up my phone with icons. Why can’t I just use my browser? But this WP app is very nice. Very nice indeed. Of course, now I’ll need to d/l more apps to even out the row, but never mind that.

My motivation is partly due to the fact that blogging from a phone browser is rather clunky, and while I have a semi-solution in my old Kindle Fire, it’s still imperfect. (Hard to access media from there.) Also, I like using one device. I already have a sweet Kindle for reading and the Fire is pure backup, which I like to keep at home.

Isn’t this fascinating? I thought my fans would be enthralled with an OCD data dump.

I’m feeling good about all the things I’ve abandoned along the path toward enlightenment, or death, whichever comes first ~ husbands, real estate, dating sites, Facebook, fiction writing, and thigh highs. Thank gawd I never have to wear stupid thigh highs again! What a dumb invention.

Oh, and sushi. Blech!