...I'm comforted by one thing - Neil Gaiman wrote an editorial for the NY Times Halloween edition, and whenever I read his writing, it makes me want to write. There's Neil when I need him.
P.S. You may have to sign in to read it.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
ghost writing
I've been trying really hard not to remember the catalyst for last year's November writing frenzy, but it won't go away, and the feelings I had last year at this time seem to be descending on me again, as though they were imprinted on my psyche and were programmed to reappear. This bothers me, and I'm worried it will derail this year's noveling efforts.
Last year, around this time, I had broken up with a boyfriend, and I was aimlessly (or desperately) looking for something to keep my mind off of it, though in a way that wouldn't do me any harm. I had sunk to doing everything I swore I'd never do in such a situation - overeating, or not eating at all, sleeping way more than was necessary, or not sleeping at all, feeling sorry for myself, or blaming myself entirely for the break-up, hating every couple I saw, or envying them, crying at precisely the wrong moments. Normally, I'm not given to crying in front of people. I think only my sister and my parents have ever really seen me break down.
On Halloween night last year, I was sitting in the lobby of a client's office in Delaware, waiting for my co-workers. Somehow, my name had been left off of the visitors' list, so the security people wouldn't let me in, and I was left to sit in the lobby while my colleagues went in to talk to the client. I might have otherwise been a bit irritated about a wasted trip, but my energy had been depleted from the effects of the unceremonious abrupt halt of my personal relationship that I had none left for any other emotion. In effect, I was numb. No feeling whatever.
So I sat in the lobby, and took out my daybook and started writing. At first, it was just to keep the security people from talking to me, because I was in no mood to talk to strangers. As I kept writing, I remembered coming across a little blurb on some Internet page or other about NaNoWriMo, and I also remembered the storyline I had thought up during an acupuncture treatment, and the two met up and turned to face me and together said, "Well? What are you waiting for?" So I wrote out the plotline and characters and settings and other random things that I thought I could use in the story.
Then an odd thing happened while I was writing. It was as though I were thawing out and was no longer numb. I felt bruised and sore, all the tension from the break-up that I had shoved aside was going to be acknowledged all in one go. I felt as though I had been beaten and left for dead. And I felt anger too, because I had let myself sink into a severe depression, which I then didn't let pass through me, and which I had done a marvelous job of hiding from everyone.
I decided, in about a second, that I would attempt this NaNoWriMo thing. I would write 1667 words, or more if I could manage it, a day for 30 days, and have a substantial draft at the end of it. Never mind that it seemed bizarre and impossible. I'd do it anyway. Normally, I am so in my head that I overthink things. It's a very bad habit that I have, and it wastes a lot of time. (Funny, in his goodbye note, he told me not to think so much so that I'd feel more.) For once, I thought very little, and just acted on a quick decision. I just did it. I didn't procrastinate, which is another bad habit I have. I just sat down every night for a month and wrote.
Oddly, the ex didn't appear anywhere in the writing. Nor did the relationship, and yet, I felt like I was untangling myself from the final threads of it, and letting go of it, and acknowledging, though not regretting, my mistakes in it. I can now say that I made mistakes in that relationship and not flinch over it. I can't fix them. I can't change them. I can't erase them. I can, however, admit to them and do my best not to repeat them in the future. That's all I can do, really. That, and write.
And yet...
And yet, as I get ready to write insane amounts of Story again this November (starting tomorrow, actually), I'm surprised at how similar I feel to last year. How is that possible? I'm not breaking up with anyone. I'm not overeating, or sleeping too much, or feeling sorry for myself, or hating the sight of couples. Why do I feel the same? I can only figure it's the ghosts of last year's noveling come back to visit. Will they interfere with this year's writing? Is it that I need to feel really horrible to write lots of words? I hope that's not it. That sounds like something Dorothy Parker or Sylvia Plath would have done. Though I love their words, I don't want to BE like them.
I haven't even begun, and I'm already beginning to feel little prickly doubts creeping into my head and telling me I won't be able to make it to 50K this year, damn them. I hope to heaven they're wrong.
Last year, around this time, I had broken up with a boyfriend, and I was aimlessly (or desperately) looking for something to keep my mind off of it, though in a way that wouldn't do me any harm. I had sunk to doing everything I swore I'd never do in such a situation - overeating, or not eating at all, sleeping way more than was necessary, or not sleeping at all, feeling sorry for myself, or blaming myself entirely for the break-up, hating every couple I saw, or envying them, crying at precisely the wrong moments. Normally, I'm not given to crying in front of people. I think only my sister and my parents have ever really seen me break down.
On Halloween night last year, I was sitting in the lobby of a client's office in Delaware, waiting for my co-workers. Somehow, my name had been left off of the visitors' list, so the security people wouldn't let me in, and I was left to sit in the lobby while my colleagues went in to talk to the client. I might have otherwise been a bit irritated about a wasted trip, but my energy had been depleted from the effects of the unceremonious abrupt halt of my personal relationship that I had none left for any other emotion. In effect, I was numb. No feeling whatever.
So I sat in the lobby, and took out my daybook and started writing. At first, it was just to keep the security people from talking to me, because I was in no mood to talk to strangers. As I kept writing, I remembered coming across a little blurb on some Internet page or other about NaNoWriMo, and I also remembered the storyline I had thought up during an acupuncture treatment, and the two met up and turned to face me and together said, "Well? What are you waiting for?" So I wrote out the plotline and characters and settings and other random things that I thought I could use in the story.
Then an odd thing happened while I was writing. It was as though I were thawing out and was no longer numb. I felt bruised and sore, all the tension from the break-up that I had shoved aside was going to be acknowledged all in one go. I felt as though I had been beaten and left for dead. And I felt anger too, because I had let myself sink into a severe depression, which I then didn't let pass through me, and which I had done a marvelous job of hiding from everyone.
I decided, in about a second, that I would attempt this NaNoWriMo thing. I would write 1667 words, or more if I could manage it, a day for 30 days, and have a substantial draft at the end of it. Never mind that it seemed bizarre and impossible. I'd do it anyway. Normally, I am so in my head that I overthink things. It's a very bad habit that I have, and it wastes a lot of time. (Funny, in his goodbye note, he told me not to think so much so that I'd feel more.) For once, I thought very little, and just acted on a quick decision. I just did it. I didn't procrastinate, which is another bad habit I have. I just sat down every night for a month and wrote.
Oddly, the ex didn't appear anywhere in the writing. Nor did the relationship, and yet, I felt like I was untangling myself from the final threads of it, and letting go of it, and acknowledging, though not regretting, my mistakes in it. I can now say that I made mistakes in that relationship and not flinch over it. I can't fix them. I can't change them. I can't erase them. I can, however, admit to them and do my best not to repeat them in the future. That's all I can do, really. That, and write.
And yet...
And yet, as I get ready to write insane amounts of Story again this November (starting tomorrow, actually), I'm surprised at how similar I feel to last year. How is that possible? I'm not breaking up with anyone. I'm not overeating, or sleeping too much, or feeling sorry for myself, or hating the sight of couples. Why do I feel the same? I can only figure it's the ghosts of last year's noveling come back to visit. Will they interfere with this year's writing? Is it that I need to feel really horrible to write lots of words? I hope that's not it. That sounds like something Dorothy Parker or Sylvia Plath would have done. Though I love their words, I don't want to BE like them.
I haven't even begun, and I'm already beginning to feel little prickly doubts creeping into my head and telling me I won't be able to make it to 50K this year, damn them. I hope to heaven they're wrong.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
guys as life markers
In the space of a few days, three male public figures that I encountered growing up have surfaced, which has brought back a lot of "when-I-was-younger" memories.
The first was Wil Wheaton, he of Wesley Crusher and Stand by Me fame, who wrote an amazing piece about his first encounter with Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics series (and if you haven't read them, I highly recommend you do so - it's well worth it). It wasn't just about what he thought of the stories and art and lettering (he's enthralled with the lettering), but it was also about the hell of growing up as a child star. I had no idea that the public hated Wesley Crusher. I always liked the character because he was roughly the same age I was when I watched The Next Generation, so I recognized the teenage perspective. Plus, he was cute, in a geeky way. Maybe it was just guys that hated Wesley Crusher.
Then Michael J. Fox did an interview with George Stephanopoulos on This Week. The interview (the menu on the right has the video) was about the ad Fox did that's running in Missouri right now. The effects of Parkinson's disease are stunningly evident in this ad. I kept crossing my arms to hold myself while I watched it. You almost want to hug him to help hold him still. Rush Limbaugh saw the ad, and had the nerve to say on his radio show that he thought it was an act, and that Fox was giving people "false hope" that a cure for Parkinson's was possible. Fox's response to Limbaugh was remarkable - he said he knew he might be criticized for the ad, and that was fine with him. He wasn't going to fight that. People like Limbaugh seem to further the idea that people like Fox should go home, shut the door, close the curtains, and suffer their disease in private, so that no one has to be inconvenienced by seeing it - in effect, turn your back on something that makes you uncomfortable. And as for "false hope," Fox said there's either hope or no hope, and if hope is some sort of character flaw, so be it. His support of stem cell research derives from the idea that if the frozen embryos are going to be thrown away because no one wants them, why not put them to use to research cures for disease rather than treat them as waste? Ironically, Limbaugh declined to appear on This Week to talk about his comments or debate Fox. Interesting.
I remember Family Ties, and the Back to the Future movies, The Secret of My Success, Bright Lights Big City, Teen Wolf, Spin City - all of which span my childhood, teen years, and college days.
And then there's George Stephanopoulos. Dear old George. Clinton's elections were due, in part, to the college-age vote in the mid-90s. College students were largely ignored as a campaign target before Clinton and Rock the Vote. I admit to having little interest in politics until Bill and Hillary and George came along. I first encountered George on the 1994 cover of Time magazine, standing next to the President, who was sitting at his desk, head in hand. The article was about Clinton's advisors screwing up the White House response to Whitewater. I also remember The War Room, and reading George's memoirs. He made politics accessible and interesting with his behind-the-scenes look at it all. And of course, there were the references to him in Friends and the Simpsons, and characters modeled on him in Primary Colors and The American President (Michael J. Fox's character, incidentally).
His interview with Michael J. Fox was great. Fox's Parkinson's tremors didn't seem to bother George, and George even provided some narration about the interview - they had to stop for a minute because Fox was getting warm from the tremors, and needed another dose of meds, and George directly asked Fox about the meds and their effects, both good and bad. One of my favorite interviews that George did was with Sandra Day O'Connor and Stephen Breyer, who were both on the Supreme Court at the time. He's covered 9/11, Pope John Paul's funeral, and the war in Iraq, and doesn't put his foot in his mouth too often. Still accessible, still asking good questions, still calm when the interviewees get riled, and I still like calling him George. Besides, that's easier to type that Stephanopoulos.
The first was Wil Wheaton, he of Wesley Crusher and Stand by Me fame, who wrote an amazing piece about his first encounter with Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics series (and if you haven't read them, I highly recommend you do so - it's well worth it). It wasn't just about what he thought of the stories and art and lettering (he's enthralled with the lettering), but it was also about the hell of growing up as a child star. I had no idea that the public hated Wesley Crusher. I always liked the character because he was roughly the same age I was when I watched The Next Generation, so I recognized the teenage perspective. Plus, he was cute, in a geeky way. Maybe it was just guys that hated Wesley Crusher.
Then Michael J. Fox did an interview with George Stephanopoulos on This Week. The interview (the menu on the right has the video) was about the ad Fox did that's running in Missouri right now. The effects of Parkinson's disease are stunningly evident in this ad. I kept crossing my arms to hold myself while I watched it. You almost want to hug him to help hold him still. Rush Limbaugh saw the ad, and had the nerve to say on his radio show that he thought it was an act, and that Fox was giving people "false hope" that a cure for Parkinson's was possible. Fox's response to Limbaugh was remarkable - he said he knew he might be criticized for the ad, and that was fine with him. He wasn't going to fight that. People like Limbaugh seem to further the idea that people like Fox should go home, shut the door, close the curtains, and suffer their disease in private, so that no one has to be inconvenienced by seeing it - in effect, turn your back on something that makes you uncomfortable. And as for "false hope," Fox said there's either hope or no hope, and if hope is some sort of character flaw, so be it. His support of stem cell research derives from the idea that if the frozen embryos are going to be thrown away because no one wants them, why not put them to use to research cures for disease rather than treat them as waste? Ironically, Limbaugh declined to appear on This Week to talk about his comments or debate Fox. Interesting.
I remember Family Ties, and the Back to the Future movies, The Secret of My Success, Bright Lights Big City, Teen Wolf, Spin City - all of which span my childhood, teen years, and college days.
And then there's George Stephanopoulos. Dear old George. Clinton's elections were due, in part, to the college-age vote in the mid-90s. College students were largely ignored as a campaign target before Clinton and Rock the Vote. I admit to having little interest in politics until Bill and Hillary and George came along. I first encountered George on the 1994 cover of Time magazine, standing next to the President, who was sitting at his desk, head in hand. The article was about Clinton's advisors screwing up the White House response to Whitewater. I also remember The War Room, and reading George's memoirs. He made politics accessible and interesting with his behind-the-scenes look at it all. And of course, there were the references to him in Friends and the Simpsons, and characters modeled on him in Primary Colors and The American President (Michael J. Fox's character, incidentally).
His interview with Michael J. Fox was great. Fox's Parkinson's tremors didn't seem to bother George, and George even provided some narration about the interview - they had to stop for a minute because Fox was getting warm from the tremors, and needed another dose of meds, and George directly asked Fox about the meds and their effects, both good and bad. One of my favorite interviews that George did was with Sandra Day O'Connor and Stephen Breyer, who were both on the Supreme Court at the time. He's covered 9/11, Pope John Paul's funeral, and the war in Iraq, and doesn't put his foot in his mouth too often. Still accessible, still asking good questions, still calm when the interviewees get riled, and I still like calling him George. Besides, that's easier to type that Stephanopoulos.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
at it again
I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year. Sixteen hundred words (or so) a day for 30 days, resulting in a 50,000 word rough draft of a novel by November 30.
Consequently, you may not hear much from me for the next month or so. I will try and check in at least once a week and give an updated word count.
This year's obstacles include a business trip to NY to learn all about cancer and possibly having to go to Chicago immediately after that for AHA, though I'm pleading with the Universe to get me out of the latter one if at all possible.
I made it to just over 50,000 words last November, so hopefully I can do it again.
Wish me luck!
Consequently, you may not hear much from me for the next month or so. I will try and check in at least once a week and give an updated word count.
This year's obstacles include a business trip to NY to learn all about cancer and possibly having to go to Chicago immediately after that for AHA, though I'm pleading with the Universe to get me out of the latter one if at all possible.
I made it to just over 50,000 words last November, so hopefully I can do it again.
Wish me luck!
hibernating
Animals have the right idea when it comes to winter weather - sleep through it. No seasonal affective disorder for them, just a nice, extremely long nap, which also results in a lot of weight loss.
And yet we humans just don't get it, and we end up with seasonal affective disorder and colds and flu and shoveling out from snowstorms and accidents on icy roads and plane delays due to bad weather, all of which might be avoided if we just kept a low profile all winter.
Personally, my hibernation instinct has already kicked in. Piles of blankets have been washed, and bedtime seems to be earlier and earlier every week. Most weekday evenings, if I've nothing else planned, I come home from work and shed the work clothes in a trail from front door to bedroom in exchange for pajamas and climb into bed with the pets, a pile of books, a pot of tea and a snack, and possibly a DVD or three, and I don't get out of bed until the alarm goes off the next morning.
Actually, I don't get out of bed until long after the alarm goes off, and subsequently, I get into work later and later. Taking the winter off would alleviate that as well, right?
My watercolor teacher does the migration thing and goes to Florida for the winter to teach all the retired folks how to paint, and then she comes back up here for spring and summer. She's got the right idea.
And yet we humans just don't get it, and we end up with seasonal affective disorder and colds and flu and shoveling out from snowstorms and accidents on icy roads and plane delays due to bad weather, all of which might be avoided if we just kept a low profile all winter.
Personally, my hibernation instinct has already kicked in. Piles of blankets have been washed, and bedtime seems to be earlier and earlier every week. Most weekday evenings, if I've nothing else planned, I come home from work and shed the work clothes in a trail from front door to bedroom in exchange for pajamas and climb into bed with the pets, a pile of books, a pot of tea and a snack, and possibly a DVD or three, and I don't get out of bed until the alarm goes off the next morning.
Actually, I don't get out of bed until long after the alarm goes off, and subsequently, I get into work later and later. Taking the winter off would alleviate that as well, right?
My watercolor teacher does the migration thing and goes to Florida for the winter to teach all the retired folks how to paint, and then she comes back up here for spring and summer. She's got the right idea.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
if you like...
...the Griffin and Sabine books (and others) by Nick Bantock, then you might like this as well:
Journal: The Short Life and Mysterious Death of Amy Zoe Mason
Her "daughter" even has a myspace page
Then again, you might not like it. I haven't decided yet if I like it; after a first read, I found it rather disturbing, and yet it's fiction, so I also find it brilliant, in a twisted way.
Journal: The Short Life and Mysterious Death of Amy Zoe Mason
Her "daughter" even has a myspace page
Then again, you might not like it. I haven't decided yet if I like it; after a first read, I found it rather disturbing, and yet it's fiction, so I also find it brilliant, in a twisted way.
magnets: friend or foe?
Right. Another acupuncture story for you:
My right hand has been bothering me for awhile now. No, it's not carpal tunnel - there's no numbness that extends to all but the pinky finger, which is the classic sign (I looked it up). The pain only occurs when I put pressure on my hand - when I pick up something that is heavy, or if I'm in a yoga pose, and my hand has to be on the floor, bearing some weight. The pain is above my wrist and on the top of my hand, meaning it doesn't radiate all the way through my hand. I've switched to using the computer mouse with my left hand (which actually wasn't as hard to get used to as I thought it would be, but that may be because I'm left-handed), and the pain has diminished a bit. Overall, I've no idea what caused my hand to start hurting. It just did, all of a sudden.
So my acupuncturist, Karen, has been grappling with it, trying to get it to behave. She says the odd thing about it is that the pain is not radiating from the meridian of the hand, but is slightly to the right. Two weeks ago, she tried something different. She put little magnet pellets on the pressure points on my hand. The pellets are held in place by a little circular band-aid thingy. She said to leave them on until they fell off or until my hand "felt funny," whichever came first. There was a noticeable decrease in pain with this magnet therapy, so when I went to see her today, I asked if I could have a repeat, which she agreed to do.
While she was plotting the points on my hand, I asked her what she thought of magnet therapy, especially the magnet bracelets that are so popular. She gave me a look, so I knew I was in for a treat of an explanation. She said she was of two minds about it. When magnets are placed on specific acupressure points, they seem to have remarkable effects, and she often uses them in that way, especially if there's a point on which a person might rather not have a needle, or if she wants to extend the pressure on the point for a good long time, like on my hand.
In general, though, she doesn't think vague magnet therapy, like wearing the bracelets or putting magnets on an overall area not related to a specific point, is such a good idea. This is because it interferes with the body's natural electro-magnetic field and tends to block it and keep it from moving. (And if you don't believe there is such a thing as an electro-magnetic field in and around the body, then I suggest you do a bit of research on electrocardiograms, which measure the electrical impulses that make the heart move - depolarization and repolarization and all that good stuff).
The whole point (ha!) of acupuncture is to keep chi happily moving about the body. If the chi gets stuck somewhere, you've got illness and/or pain. It can be temporarily stuck, like in the case of a cold or headache, or it can be permanently stuck, like in the case of a chronic illness or cancer or the like. Stuck, stagnating chi is bad chi. Very bad. And chi is all wrapped up with energy and blood and the immune system and the body's electro-magnetic field, among other things, so you mess with any of those, and you're messing with chi, and that's never a good idea. That's why acupuncture is the high art that it is. It's not meant to interfere with the body at all. Rather, it's meant to be a helpful sidekick and pal that keeps the conversation going.
So moral of the session: magnets on specific points = good; magnets in or near vague areas = bad. And so ends the lesson.
My right hand has been bothering me for awhile now. No, it's not carpal tunnel - there's no numbness that extends to all but the pinky finger, which is the classic sign (I looked it up). The pain only occurs when I put pressure on my hand - when I pick up something that is heavy, or if I'm in a yoga pose, and my hand has to be on the floor, bearing some weight. The pain is above my wrist and on the top of my hand, meaning it doesn't radiate all the way through my hand. I've switched to using the computer mouse with my left hand (which actually wasn't as hard to get used to as I thought it would be, but that may be because I'm left-handed), and the pain has diminished a bit. Overall, I've no idea what caused my hand to start hurting. It just did, all of a sudden.
So my acupuncturist, Karen, has been grappling with it, trying to get it to behave. She says the odd thing about it is that the pain is not radiating from the meridian of the hand, but is slightly to the right. Two weeks ago, she tried something different. She put little magnet pellets on the pressure points on my hand. The pellets are held in place by a little circular band-aid thingy. She said to leave them on until they fell off or until my hand "felt funny," whichever came first. There was a noticeable decrease in pain with this magnet therapy, so when I went to see her today, I asked if I could have a repeat, which she agreed to do.
While she was plotting the points on my hand, I asked her what she thought of magnet therapy, especially the magnet bracelets that are so popular. She gave me a look, so I knew I was in for a treat of an explanation. She said she was of two minds about it. When magnets are placed on specific acupressure points, they seem to have remarkable effects, and she often uses them in that way, especially if there's a point on which a person might rather not have a needle, or if she wants to extend the pressure on the point for a good long time, like on my hand.
In general, though, she doesn't think vague magnet therapy, like wearing the bracelets or putting magnets on an overall area not related to a specific point, is such a good idea. This is because it interferes with the body's natural electro-magnetic field and tends to block it and keep it from moving. (And if you don't believe there is such a thing as an electro-magnetic field in and around the body, then I suggest you do a bit of research on electrocardiograms, which measure the electrical impulses that make the heart move - depolarization and repolarization and all that good stuff).
The whole point (ha!) of acupuncture is to keep chi happily moving about the body. If the chi gets stuck somewhere, you've got illness and/or pain. It can be temporarily stuck, like in the case of a cold or headache, or it can be permanently stuck, like in the case of a chronic illness or cancer or the like. Stuck, stagnating chi is bad chi. Very bad. And chi is all wrapped up with energy and blood and the immune system and the body's electro-magnetic field, among other things, so you mess with any of those, and you're messing with chi, and that's never a good idea. That's why acupuncture is the high art that it is. It's not meant to interfere with the body at all. Rather, it's meant to be a helpful sidekick and pal that keeps the conversation going.
So moral of the session: magnets on specific points = good; magnets in or near vague areas = bad. And so ends the lesson.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
toast messages
I'm sure there's a purpose for this - I just can't figure out what it is. Birthdays? Parties, maybe?
Sunday, October 1, 2006
death in a snazzy vest
this is the cutest series; I found it on Netflix. There are only a handful of episodes, and it easily could have been done all wrong and in poor taste, but it wasn't, thankfully.
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