The Woes of Growing Old...

I think I'm getting old. This is a redundant statement really because even as I started typing this, I'm already older than I was when I typed the first word.

I don't necessarily mean in age. I mean that I'm getting old as in just being. I know you're really only as old as you think you are but that's not really what I mean, either.

What I mean is hard to describe. It's not an age thing, measurable in years. It's more just a state of existence, more who you are, what you do and what you like.

For example, we all go through phases. In my childhood, I went through phases such as wanting a pony more than anything else in life, wanting to be in a pantomime because the one I saw on my seventh birthday was the most exciting thing I'd ever seen and wanting to be a gymnast even though physics, heridity and lack of balance were all against me.

In my teens, I went through a heavy metal stage, an Andrew Lloyd Webber stage, a Stephen King stage.

In my twenties, I went through a theatre stage, a passionate love of the movies that led to my attempts at being a screenwriter and an Anne Rice stage.

You get the idea. Each decade of my life meant I was older. My interests naturally evolved to help define who I was at that moment in time. They grew a little more mature as the days went by though most likely by someone else's standards, my interests were always (and probably still are) slightly immature in some ways. I mean, I did go through a passionate devotion to Green Day in my late 20's/early thirties. I still like Green Day.

Yet I no longer have that burning desire to have Green Day help define who I am. It's strange. One day it was there, one day it wasn't. I don't know why it went away or even what made it go away, it just did. It was suddenly replaced by a weird and inexplicable desire to listen to Top 40 music and discover that Lady GaGa is quite an artist, Katy Perry is horribly catchy and that I wouldn't mind if Jason Mraz followed me around and sang to me all day long.

The only constant in my life that has been there since my 20's is Harry Potter. Since I first read the books, I've been a captive fan. I love the movies. I collect Harry Potter stuff, specifically featuring the illustrations from the books rather than movie themed stuff but I'm not horribly picky.

I can't wait to see the movie that opens tonight at midnight. I've been counting down for months. I know it's going to be good. I know I'm going to be frustrated that I have to wait another six months to see Part 2 of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." I don't care. I can't wait to see the movie.

I just don't want to see it at midnight. Hence the fact...I'm getting old.

A few years ago, I would have been there at midnight if I had friends who wanted to see it. I mean, I was at Borders for the midnight release of the last book in the series. Nowadays...I just don't want to and that, I fear, makes me old.

No longer do I have that happy-go-lucky, "I don't care if I have to work tomorrow!" attitude that I used to have. Instead, I know that even if I did drag my 35-year-old bones to the movies, it'd be a waste of my $12. You see, I could wait in line. I'd get in and sit down. Then I'd get tired. I might force myself to stay awake but I know that if I did, I'd be so focused on not falling asleep, I wouldn't take in the movie. I might manage to watch it but, at best, I reckon I'd probably catch maybe 85% of it and miss 15% by a) trying not to doze off, b) getting distracted by the fact that I had to be at work in a few short hours or c) being worried that I left the puppies home alone and hoping they'd be ok.

I know, I know....so what? There's only a midnight opening once, right? I can always go see it again if I did miss some or fall asleep.

The thing is, I don't want to do that. For one thing, even matinees these days are almost $9. For another thing, Harry Potter is very important to me. I love to see the movies and get lost in them. I love the thrill of knowing even as I sit in my seat at the theatre, I'm about to have over two hours of pure enjoyment that is all mine. As a child, I felt that way any time I was lucky enough to go to the cinema. It was this almost breathless thrill of excitement that arose in me as soon as the lights went down. I was going to escape from my seat and get lost in the screen in front of me.

Nowadays, I rarely have that feeling. I do, however, always have it with Harry Potter movies.

I don't want to not have that. You only have it once and that's the first time you get to see the movie in the theatre. You can try to recapture that the second time or even the third time but the magic is just not the same. It's like having a chocolate chip or shortbread cookie that's still warm from the oven. The gooey warmth is only there when they come out of the oven. Afterwards, they're still good but that comfy, homey warmth of that sweet disc of goodness is gone. Even if you put it in the microwave, it's not quite the same.

I know I'm being slightly dramatic about Harry Potter. It's just something special and important to me. When you're a thirty-something singleton who lives alone with two adorable puppies, you cling on to things like Harry Potter. It makes like that little more special.

So, I won't be seeing it at midnight tonight. That makes me feel old.

I know people who do still go to midnight showings- several friends who are scattered around the U.S. will be waiting in line at midnight in their various time zones, waiting for that Warner Brothers logo to appear on the screen and for the Harry Potter experience to begin.

I admire them because they can still do it. They can overcome that old person mentality and not care about being tired tomorrow.

Whereas me...I know I wouldn't make it through the movie without falling asleep.

So, instead, I'm going to wait until Saturday. I'll make it into a Harry Potter day and I'll enjoy the movie while the sun is still shining outside. I won't be in a theatre with devotees of the movie like I would be if I went at midnight.

But at least I'll be awake and I'll enjoy every minute.

Oh, I'm getting old.

Happy Friday! (and enjoy Harry Potter if you're seeing it tonight/this weekend!)

Growing Older, Growing up

I’m trying to figure out if I’m getting old or I’m just growing up. In my opinion, there is a difference.

Up until fairly recently, I’ve embraced the fact that I’m an adult but I’ve also enjoyed some ‘younger’ activities. I loved going to concerts, particularly Green Day. I loved dropping everything and going on a weekend trip to visit a friend. I loved going out and about, spending days at Disneyland and forgetting the realities of life.

It’s not to say I don’t still enjoy some of that stuff, if not all of it. It’s just…not the same.

For example, it used to be when I found out Green Day were on tour, I’d research where would be the easiest, most convenient place to see them and I’d find a way to go. Now, while I still enjoy their music, I’ve seen them six times in concert already. If they came to Cincinnati or somewhere else rather convenient, I’d want to go. It’s just that I don’t want to go that extra mile, to fly to Vegas or L.A. to see them. I don’t need to go that extra mile.

There was a part of me, a passion that Green Day used to fill. It sounds a little lame when I say that but it’s true. I got excited to see them. I wanted to know what they were doing, who they were, what drove them, why they wrote songs. Through my entire life, that’s been the case with one band or another, one movie or book or TV show. There’s always been something that I’m passionate about.

I’m not saying I don’t have that passion anymore. It’s just…changed.

I find now that I’m happiest hanging out with my family and the puppies, just…hanging out. I love sitting outside on a cool evening, watching the puppies play, drinking a glass of wine and enjoying the fact that I don’t have to be doing anything else.

I’m horribly afraid this means I’ve become boring. Or, worse, old.

Although, I’m not saying I don’t enjoy going out and doing stuff. I just don’t feel like I have to do something in order to enjoy myself. Sometimes doing nothing is far nicer.

This worries me. What worries me more is I have friends who are older than me who enjoy being busy almost every moment of their life and while what they’re doing is fun, the idea of me having that kind of timeframe makes me feel slightly panicky inside.

What does this mean? In all honesty, I don’t know. I suppose it’s a natural human reaction to compare yourself to others, to say, why aren’t I doing that? Why don’t I want to do that? Is it ok that I don’t do that?

I suppose when I look at it, in a way, I’ve always been a bit…well…boring. As a child, I liked to be read to by whoever would read. When I learned to read, I spent about 10 years in books without really coming up for air and only then because I realized it was probably time to do something other than just read. I always preferred board games to sports though I can appreciate some sports, just not playing competitively. I tried to act but realized watching shows and managing them was far more fun. I find it more fun to stay home and watch a really great TV show than paying too much money to see a crappy film at the theatre. This is not something I ever thought I’d say since I used to think going to the movies was the best pastime ever. I still enjoy it but I now think before I shell out my $11.50 to see a movie rather than just seeing anything that looks entertaining.

Eek gads, I sound like a boring old Monkeypants. Before you know it, I’ll be shouting, “Get off my lawn, varmints!” to the neighbourhood kids.

Although, I honestly have no idea what a varmint is. I think I saw it in a Crankshaft cartoon once. In which case, the fact that I don’t find Crankshaft funny means I can’t be that old, right?

I digress. What I’m saying is that I’ve always been a bit of a homebody. It’s just become magnified by age. This doesn’t mean I’m likely to become a hermit. No, if I spend too much time at home, I get the itch to go out, to do something. I just don’t have to do that as often as I used to. I don’t need to do it, I want to do it. I think there’s a difference.

I suppose what it comes down to is that I’m actually happy with my life and pretty content. Naturally, I think it’d be rather nice to have a Mr. Captain Monkeypants in my life but given my online dating duds, that’s not too easy to come by. Yet, I have a house, two amazingly fabulous puppies who make me laugh and smile every day and the ability to sit down and write whenever I feel like it. I no longer have to struggle with the easy procrastinations of a fairly new writer, the days when it was easier to clean out the fridge than it was to just buckle down and write. No, these days, if I have an hour, I’ll go write- no thinking needed, I just do it and it comes out pretty easily and pretty well.

I have a family fairly nearby and a job that pays the bills. It also gives me plenty of blog fodder/writing ideas.

I have a published book that’s getting some great feedback from readers.

It all seems rather nice when I type it out but the thing that I think is scaring me is the eternal question, is it enough? It’s not glamourous. It’s not exciting.

But it’s fun. It’s relaxing and it’s fulfilling.

Perhaps that’s the key from moving from youth to true adulthood- you realize that it’s ok to be fulfilled even when the fulfillment comes in the form of everyday comforts.

Or, maybe I’m just really boring.

Either way I’ll take it. (Although if you hear me say “varmints”, I’ll rethink that).

Happy Wednesday!

Puppy Wake-Up Calls...

The rough things about puppies that even on days off, I find myself up and awake by 7:30 a.m. Take this morning, for example. Having a friend in town to visit, I took today off from work to spend time with her. Not getting up on a Monday morning is always a luxury. Except...I am up.

Granted, I did get to sleep in past my normal weekday wake-up-time of 6:03 a.m. But I was awoken by a furious licking on the ear at 6:13 a.m. because Rory needed to go. I got up, took them outside then shepherded them back to bed, hoping to steal a little more sleep. I got about 30 minutes before Rory decided that was enough and started nipping at my toes under the covers.

You might ask why I don't let them out and go back to bed. Well, I've tried this but it results in them disappearing outside for a while and then, when they realize they're 'alone' in the house, they start yipping and trying to find me. Since I have a guest, I try to keep the noise to a minimum. Hence...here I am at 7:45 a.m.

It would help if we'd gone to bed earlier. However, last night was one of those nights where we just hung out watching silliness on TV and got sucked in to something silly.

Last night's something silly was poodle grooming. Yes, you read that right. There was a show on The Learning Channel about a poodle grooming contest. Have you ever seen what people do to their poodles? They basically decide what the poodle is going to look like and then they dye and trim the poodle to match their design. Last night, there was a buffalo, a lion, a roller derby poodle and a camel. The owners dye them every colour imaginable and then on the day of the contest, the poor multi-coloured creatures stand there in front of an audience while they're shaved, cut and groomed to ridiculous proportions.

I admit, the poodles looked pretty interesting after they were groomed. I mean, that's some commitment right there. What I was amazed at is that the poodles didn't seem to mind. They seriously must be the most patient and docile dogs on the planet. They stood there, amiably letting their owners prod and pull them. It was pretty amazing. Given that Rory and Sookie hate being bathed, I can't imagine even thinking about grooming them. Then again, aside from sticking a hot dog bun on them, there's really not much you can do to groom a dachshund...thankfully.

We also watched the Tony Awards last night since Green Day's American Idiot was nominated and I wanted to see if it was as bad as I feared. It turned out it's not...bad, per se. It's just not what I associate with Green Day. I'd rather just watch the band sing than a bunch of mugging 'slackers'. Also, given that the American Idiot character on the album is an apathetic slacker, those kids representing him with their choreography sure do have a lot of energy.

Aside from the 'bad' TV, it's been a fun weekend. We saw "The A-Team" yesterday since we both were fans of the terrible '80's TV show in our youth. I have to say, it was a lot of fun. It wasn't cheesy the way the '80's show was but rather tongue-in-cheek about its own ridiculousness and there's something quite entertaining about that. It's not on a par with, say, Jane Austen but sometimes you need a little mindless escape or, in the case of "The A-Team" a complete mindless escape.

Today, we're planning on just staying local since she flies home tonight. We didn't manage to get the household stuff done for which I'd enlisted her help orginally. We did get the broken ceiling fan off the ceiling but the wiring was far more complex than we felt equipped to handle so I'm waiting for my dad- my household hero- to come down and help since he nicely offered. Also, we decided that the kitchen faucet was not going to be easy to I have to wait on that too.

This means my Thursday hootenanny might be cancelled. With no kitchen light or fan and water that squirts from the sink if a cloth is not wrapped around the joint, I'm not sure entertaining is a good idea. I'll be sad but I'm hoping we can do a happy hour instead or something instead since we should do something to celebrate, uh, I mean recognize the fact that we didn't go to the conference at work.

Which is good because otherwise, it would mean today, I'd be on my way to the conference, the idea of being forced to smile and be social for 3 days, non-stop weighing heavily on my shoulders. Instead, we're going to go to Costco, hang out and play with puppies.

I'd say I got a fair deal in the end, wouldn't you?

Happy Monday!

Memories by Music...

So, last night, I was watching the new episode of Glee that aired on Fox. I don't watch it live anymore because it's on at the same time as Lost and given that Lost is in its last season and on the last few episodes, there's no way I can not watch it live.

Anyway, for those that don't watch it, Glee is a somewhat dark comedy mixed with an alarming degree of perkiness. It features people breaking out into song but usually it's songs that are contemporary, that you hear on the radio. Well, in my case, I haven't heard most of the songs because, well, I'm a rock music/punk music fan and they tend to skew a little pop/hip-hoppy for my tastes. However, I still enjoy the show because it caters to my dark sense of humour and my odd love of musical theatre.

Last night, the entire episode was devoted to the music of Madonna. I wasn't sure if it was going to work or not because it seemed a bit gimmicky. However, it actually did work quite well. One of the songs they did was a combination of Madonna's "Borderline" and "Open Your Heart." If you're familiar at all with Madonna, you'll know those were from the 1980's. They were some of her earlier hits before her constant reinventions.

For me, it was almost like a time-travel experience. The minute I heard "Open Your Heart" being sung, I was immediately thrust back into my childhood. That song was popular when I was around 11 years old and still lived in England. My good friend and neighbour- Sarah- had purchased Madonna's "True Blue" and Wham's! "Make it Big," albums. We spend countless hours rotating the vinyl 33" lp's on her turntable. We used to pay board games as we listened to the music or we'd try to find ways to stop Sarah's little sister from trying to interrupt us. We tried to play Barbie's but, well, neither of us were really Barbie girls and we always ended up giving up on that in favour of board games. She had this peculiar game called Yeti that I'd never seen before or have seen since. We never did know the rules because they were extraordinarily hard to decipher so we made up our own rules. It had a plastic yeti that you would load up with plastic disks that had footprints printed on them. Every now and again there'd be a different disk with some other symbol on it.

We'd listen to Madonna a lot. Sarah also had the "Like a Virgin" album so we'd sing along to that too.

For a moment, last night, while watching Glee it occured to me how music really is like a time-machine. It thrusts you back into your past as if you're really living it. For me, for a few moments, I was back in Sarah's bedroom, playing Yeti and singing along to Madonna.

It's not just Madonna who has that power. Every stage of my life can be documented with the music I listened to at the time. Wham! was a huge part of my childhood. Convinced that I was going to marry George Michael (go ahead, mock all you want), my friend Sonya and I would obsessively watch the "Careless Whisper" and "Wake Me Up Before You G0-Go" videos every lunchtime before we'd go back to school for the afternoon session. Madonna followed soon after. Then, when I moved to the U.S., a friend introduced me to Richard Marx and I still can't hear "Right Here Waiting," or "Endless Summer Nights," without remembering the months of culture shock I experienced after we moved to Indiana.

The same friend discovered heavy metal or, as we now call them, hair bands. She was obsessively into Poison. I still can't hear "Talk Dirty to Me" without thinking of her. She soon became obsessed with Guns and Roses and fell in love with Axl Rose. I still can't hear "Welcome to the Jungle," without thinking of her caterwauling along in her absolutely awful singing voice. We parted friends soon after as she went a little crazy and, as far as I know, still is but the memories invoked by the music we listened to remain.

Then came my own foray into 'hair bands' or 'heavy metal.' My new group of friends were into bands like Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, Skid Row...all of the bands which are now featured on compilation albums from the 'hair band era'. To this day, I can't hear "Love Bites" by Def Leppard without thinking of that group of friends and how we'd hang out playing Uno, trying to stay up all night to watch terrible horror movies that used to scare me and eating junk food.

I know I've said some of this before so I apologize for re-blogging.

I changed direction after my heavy metal days. I switched to Broadway and had a new set of friends, very theatrically inclined. My best friend and I eschewed the rock concerts I'd previously attended- my first one, for the record, was Motley Crue during the Dr. Feelgood tour- and started to seek out performances of Cats. We were fans of the tours of The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber and I remember one concert in which we were running late after being at a band function (I wasn't in the band but, if I recall correctly, was there to cover the performance for the school newspaper). We drove to Indianapolis at the speed of light, well, over the speed limit by a long-shot, anyway, to try to make the show that featured Sarah Brightman. I think we made it, only a little late. I can't hear Sarah Brightman without thinking of our harried drive to try to make that show.

After that, I have memories of college. My roommate was rotatingly obsessed with Bob Marley and Tori Amos. I used to blast my Andrew Lloyd Webber. I'm now embarrassed but at the time, I didn't realize how much she hated it. Of course, after so many listens to "Buffalo Soldiers" by Mr. Marley and "Crucify" by Tori Amos, I, too, hated her music.

Since then, I've had other music obsessions, thankfully, not so much with Andrew Lloyd Webber of late though I had a heavy period where all I could listen to was the "Rent" soundtrack. Green Day, still a current obsession of mine, ranks high on the list.

Although, on a side note, I can't bring myself to listen to or buy the new Broadway version of American Idiot. I watched a YouTube video of the workshop version and, well, lets just say that it sort of made me cringe. I love Broadway and I love Green Day but the two together...feels unnatural. I don't like the idea of Green Day, former punks, going corporate and producing theatre. It just doesn't feel right.

Regardless, I wager that every single stage of my life can be brought back into the forefront of memories if I hear the right song. It's not even just my music tastes. If I hear Genesis singing, "Invisible Touch," I think of my dad's fondness for the album and how he'd play it every time the whole family would go out on a Sunday, often to a DIY warehouse. Simon and Garfunkel reminds me of my parents when it was just them and my older brother and I, before my younger brother and sister were born. The Rolling Stones will always remind me of my mother, Marilyn Manson...my sister.

The list goes on. I think for me, as it is with so many people, music reaches deep. Some people document their lives with photos. I've never been a very photo-oriented Monkeypants. I'm not a visual person. I've tried but I tend to always forget my camera or do something stupid to ruin the pictures I do take. I do tend to observe, finding a way to capture memories in my head so I can turn them into words in a story or a narrative piece.

Yet there's also music. I don't know if that makes me an audio-person but it's one of the strongest ways , for me, of evoking memories, of revisiting moments in my life that I associate with the music. Sometimes they're good, sometimes they're bad. Yet until I hear a certain song or piece of music, they often remain locked down inside me until the music coaxes them out. I love the surprise memory, the thrusting back in time that occurs, just as it did last night with Glee that happens when a song takes me by surprise.

The power of music amazes me. In a way, for me, its the strongest evidence that time travel is possible. It might not occur physically but, emotionally, it feels as though you're right there, in the moment that passed even years ago. The power of music over memories is strong.

I'd love to know if I'm alone in this or if you all have similar experiences. Feel free to comment. I promise not to mock. After all, I've openly admitted a couple of times now that I once believed George Michael and I were destined to be together and that I thought Andrew Lloyd Webber was the coolest person on the planet. It can't be worse than that...right?

Happy Thursday!

Sharpening the Pencils to Death....

I think today was what you call "karma" in the office. After my blog yesterday that gently poked fun at the Weight Watchers, it turned out today that I was the only member of the "anti-Weight Watchers" in the office. I did not relish the thought of sitting in the kitchen, eating my salad that had real fresh pieces of leftover bacon on top and having the Weight Watchers ask me what I was eating and make "The Face*," so I ended up running errands and eating my not-as-healthy-as-I'd-like-but-really-tasty salad at my desk.

(*Definition of the face: Picture the food that appeals to you most in the world. Picture how it tastes and smells. Then picture a big metal cage being placed on the food so that it's unreachable. Yet you can still smell it and imagine how it tastes... but you can't eat it. Now look at your face in the mirror. That...="The Face")

I didn't really mind too much. It was that type of day, anyway. It was, in short, a typical Thursday; a day in which I got much done but my mind was looking forward to the weekend.

Then again, there's nothing much new about that, is there?

Still, I can't complain. Today went by pretty quickly. My boss has not spoken to me in two days, not since the meeting we had on Tuesday. I'd say I'm heartbroken but in actuality, it's actually quite nice. My boss does this thing that my coworker and I call "Drive-By Managing." For the most part, he ignores our existence. Then, every now and again, he'll come out of his office and take turns to stop by our desks and say, "hey, how's it goin'?"

And that's it. He just stands there, waiting. We usually say, "Pretty good." And then he stands there some more. So then we launch into a description of what we're working on. He still stands there. It's like he wants to chat but has no idea how. With the males in our area, he stops by their desks and talks sports. They can do that for hours. Yet with my coworker and I, both of us females, it is in a word...awkward.

This is the type of 'awkward' that should be muttered or whispered in two syllables- "awk. ward" - while looking out of the corners of your eyes down at the ground. If you don't know what I mean, try it. You'll understand.

I want to chat to him, don't get me wrong. Yet when I do, he looks fearful, as though I'm going to say something sarcastic. I've mentioned this before: He thinks everything I say is sarcastic when, in actuality, only about 50 percent of what I say to him is intended to be sarcastic.

No, I've actually tried to engage him in real conversation, to ask him about his kids, his wife, his dogs...you name it, I've probably tried it. Granted, it's getting a little personal but when you have the type of boss that walks up to you and says, "you look nice. Why are you so dressed up? Do you have fancy social plans?" it doesn't seem so out-of-the-question to try to take an interest in who he is as a person aside from who he is as a boss.

It's just plain...awkward. The most frustrating part of it is that we have bi-weekly meetings to discuss what our area has been doing. We go around the meeting table and say what we're working on. Compared to the programmers, I'm pretty dull- I could go into great technical detail about what I've been doing but the way I look at it is that no one really cares. Unfortunately, some of the programmers do not feel this way and feel that it's necessary to break down into intricate detail exactly the work they've been doing down the programming code. It's not that I'm not interested because I am. Yet when it gets down to when they're naming every single phone call they received and the answer they gave and the respondent's reply to their answer and then the follow-up emails that occurred...well, by then they've lost me.

Yet, since our boss does take notes at these bi-weekly meetings, I suppose what I hope is that he actually listens and makes a note of what we're doing. However, two days later, he's standing by my desk saying "hey, how's it goin'?" and I have to recap what I'm working on which, most likely, isn't that different from what I said in the meeting.

I forgot to mention, during this time, he's fiddling. He's a fiddler, my boss. If he's standing by my desk, he's got to be touching something on my desk. Sometime it's my name plate which he knocks down quite a lot. He usually does this when he's trying to perch on my desk. It's the perching which actually alarms me. My desk really isn't perch-able. It's a got a decent work top but it's got two cubby-holes above it with overhead lift-up lids. They sit pretty low. Thus, perching on my desk means your shoulder can't quite fit comfortable with these cubby-holes. Also, my desk is a little slick. Since I've never tried to sit on it, I can't say that I've experienced sliding on it. However, seeing as how my boss takes a little bit too much of a slide every time he tries to perch, I have to assume it's a bit slippery.

So, the perching ends up with my boss looking slightly flustered because he's either knocked my name-plate over, gone sliding or whacked his shoulder on my cubby-hole. So, usually, by this time he's on his feet, trying to think of the best escape plan so he can save a little face.

When he doesn't perch, he's usually looking at some of my toys- either my Geico Gekko statue or my Green Day SuperAction figures. It alarms me when he picks up one of my Green Day men and 'fiddles' with it. He doesn't know he's doing it. It's a bit of a violation of my space. Also, I don't think Green Day would appreciate quite the manner in which he's trying to remove Mike Dirnt's chicken from his hands. Trust me, you have to see it to understand quite how odd it is.

So, long story short, days upon which my boss doesn't speak to me are actually not that bad at all. Since he has absolutely no clue what it is I really do nor what it is I actually am capable of, I tend to get a little annoyed with him in general anyway. I've tried repeatedly to have him take me seriously, to listen when I suggest something or to at least understand that I'm not a complete twit. Nothing seems to work.

Yet he is a 'drive-by' manager. I can't decide if this is better or worse than a micro-manager, someone who wants to know everything I'm doing all the time. I think it's probably better although at least with a micro-manager, he might actually realize that I'm constantly having to find my own projects to work on because otherwise, I might stab myself in the eye with a pencil out of boredom.

I don't want to stab out my eye. I quite like having my eyeballs. I also quite like my pencils. I've kept those away from my boss when he comes to 'perch' on my desk. My pencils are very personal to me. I mean, think about it, a pen runs on its own ink. A pencil...a pencil must be sharpened in the palm of your hand. It becomes personal the first time you sharpen it. Each turn of the sharpener serves to make it work better for you.

Yet, really, you're slowly slaughtering the pencil in order to make it more efficient.

Not terribly unlike my company, when I think about it. Or most companies, for that matter. Eek gads, what a thought.

But it's Friday. That's a better and slightly less dark and twisty thought. I think I'll stick with that, what do you think?

Happy Friday and have a good weekend!

Nightmares in Travel: United Airlines, Get some New Planes...

It's a Monday morning after a long weekend for me. I had a good time in Las Vegas but it's hard not to have one, especially when you get to see Green Day in concert and they were, as always, fantastic.

Yet, naturally, no trip is perfect and, given my previous grievances against the airlines and my previous travel issues , I guess it was too much to hope that I'd have a smooth trip back, isn't it?

When I booked my trip to Las Vegas, I paid a much, much higher price than I wanted to because there weren't many options. I did end up paying more so that I could leave early in the morning and get home mid-afternoon so that I could have a restful Sunday before I returned to work today.

I should have known better.

On Saturday night, my friend and I decided that there really wasn't too much point in going to bed as I had to be at the airport by 4 a.m. at which point, she could go to the hotel to sleep and I could get on the plane and sleep. So, we unwisely decided to just enjoy the ridiculous lights of Vegas and have fun. We did. By the time I got to the airport, I was tired and ready to sleep on the plane.

When I went to one of the computer check-in stations, I was informed that it would not provide my boarding pass. I had to go to the gate to get it. I wasn't sure why, considering I had booked and paid a lot for my ticket. I do understand when you do one of the super-cheap ticket-buying methods that the airline basically waits to assign a seat when it finds out what's available and this can happen after you've checked in. Yet it shouldn't be the case with regular ticket-buying methods.

Naturally, not having a boarding pass made security a little difficult considering they want to see the boarding pass. I ended up having to dig out my printed itinerary and show them my next flight's ticket- the Chicago to Dayton one. When I showed the TCA man this ticket, he gave me a funny look and said, "You're at the wrong airport" even though I had clearly shown him my itinerary. Finally, he said: "Ok, I'll let you go but you need a boarding pass." Yes, Mr. TCA, thank you for that enlightening piece of information. I tried to smile politely and not be rude because, after all, how was he to know this wasn't my first flight and that I might not know I need a boarding pass to get on a plane?

When I got to the gate, I had to wait for a ticket agent to appear. I waited a while. Finally, one came and I got up to retrieve my boarding pass. She asked my name, glanced at a piece of paper, and literally sniffed at me. "Sit down," she said. "I'll call you in a minute." She immediately turned to her co-ticket-desk-helper and started chatting. I did what I was told. Finally, after about 20 minutes, I was given a boarding pass.

Boarding actually was easy. I got on my plane. I dozed off immediately. I woke up a little while later to realize we weren't moving. We weren't flying. We were just sitting. We sat for a long time more before the pilot drove us back to the gate. We sat there a while. The plane was, apparently, having some kind of technical problem and they had to wait for a part. We waited. Finally, they made us get off the plane.

I was still tired. Yet, like so many other people, I was also a little concerned about my connecting flight and we were all directed to talk to the ticket agent. So, like a good passenger, I got in line even though I really wanted to go to the toilet and I was thirsty. Also, I was only semi-functional, due to sleep deprivation. I waited in line for almost an hour. Literally, as I got to the desk, they announced we were going to re-board again. Yay. So I asked the ticket counter lady where I'd been rebooked so I knew how much time I had once I got to Chicago before my next plane took off. Here's how the conversation went.

Captain Monkeypants: I know we're ready to board but I've been waiting in line. Can you at least tell me when my new connecting flight leaves.
United Airlines Lady: We're ready to board.
Captain Monkeypants: I know but I just waited in this line and I'd like to know.
United Airlines Lady: Sorry, but we're going to board you know.
Captain Monkeypants: So how do we know what's going on in Chicago?

At which point she promptly turned away from me and picked up the microphone thingy and made an announcement that the Chicago United Ticket Desk would help us. There was some irritated stirrings at that. It was quite obvious that this Las Vegas crew was done with us and they were passing the buck and basically telling us to get on the plane and shut up. When I asked again, she announced: "You can look at the monitors in Chicago or talk to a ticket agent to find out when your new connection leaves."

Congratulations, United. That has to be the laziest, most unenthusiastic way of helping your customers I've ever seen. Well done, Las Vegas staff. It's nice to know when things get rough, you pass the responsibility along and ignore us.

Meanwhile, I had to run to the bathroom and sprint back so I could get back on the plane because I'd spent my entire furlough in the airport waiting in a line for no reason.

When we got on the plane again, I was a little less exhausted than before and so I noticed things. When I had attempted to print my boarding pass, I had been asked if I wanted to upgrade to "Economy Plus" with more leg room. I didn't bother because it would have cost me an additional $49. I had fallen asleep the first time I boarded and woken up stiff. When I sat in my seat this time, I realized that in order to shove my backpack under the seat, I literally had to press my head against the seat in front of me because I seriously had just over a foot between me and that seat and that was the only way to get things out from under the seat and put them back again. It seems that United has decided to take away the normal amount of leg room and make it smaller to force people to upgrade if the space is too cramped.

I say this is crap. It's not fair. For the cost of the tickets, the baggage fees, the in-flight food, you'd think you'd at least get a seat where you could stretch your legs without your knees bumping the tray table. But nope. It had to be the most uncomfortable seat I ever had. The thing that worries me is now that they're charging you to be semi-comfortable, are they going to start charging to make it comfortable at all? I mean, what's next, they charge you for the cushions on the seats? Or is it going to be that you have to pay extra to sit at all- otherwise you have to stand up, get strapped to the sides and hold on for dear life. Of course, there's always the option of building planes that have seats like the flight-attendants use for landing/take-off, those hard plastic ones that lower and raise like a tray-table. I bet those are next.

We finally did take off. I discovered when I got to Chicago that I had been rebooked but I wasn't going to get home at the nice 2:30 p.m. time I had intended and scheduled. Instead, i was going to land about 6 p.m. I wasn't happy but it wasn't too late and I could deal with that.

Of course, that's before I sat down at my supposed gate only to find out they'd moved me. I trundled across the airport to sit at the new gate. I was on the phone to Mummy-Monkeypants when I heard the pilot come down from the loading bridge and mumble to the Ticket Desk Man. I heard the word "Maintenance" and my heart sank. I predicted a delay to Mummy-Monkeypants who was a saint throughout the day by listening to my United Airlines targeted rants.

Sure enough, we didn't board when we supposed to. This time, the ticket agent was actually nice about it though, perhaps, a little too cheerful. He had this huge grin the entire time. I'm glad he was happy. Apparently, our plane was broken and needed a new part. My first thought: "Um, United Airlines? What the hell is wrong with you that your planes are all broken?" We were told to hold tight.

This began Ticket Agent Man's first disappearance down the loading ramp where he disappeared. Meanwhile, a line had formed at the desk, awaiting his return. Twenty minutes later, he resurfaced. No news. We waited. And waited. Ticket Agent Man finally put an official delay on the screen. Meanwhile, he called a specific passenger to the desk and told him that his connection was getting tight. I thought this was really nice of them. At first. Ticket Agent Man decided to put this passenger on a direct flight to his final destination instead of him having to connect in Dayton with the rest of us cattle. That was nice. Except this marked disappearance number two of Ticket Agent Man. He had to figure out how to get this passenger's bags from our plane to his new one. It took him almost 20 minutes again to resurface. Meanwhile, we'd had no updates, we had no idea what was going on.

Finally, he reemerged and dealt with the passenger whose flight needed to be rebooked. This took an additional 15 minutes. While I think it's nice that he was so helpful to this passenger, the rest of us were getting frustrated because Ticket Agent Man was our only contact and he was ignoring the rest of us. The rebooked passenger left. Ticket Agent Man disappeared. Again.

He reemerged afted 10 minutes. It turned out they'd found the part for the plane! Hurrah! Except...they didn't know where the mechanic was. Which essentially told us nothing other than the fact that we still weren't going anywhere. While an update was necessary, methinks that Ticket Agent Man telling us that they were clueless as to what was really happening does NOT look good for United Airlines.

Finally, the part and the mechanic arrived. We knew this because Ticket Agent Man disappeared to go check. He came back 10 minutes later, still smiling. It would take ten minutes to fix! We'd board in about six minutes!

Twenty minutes later, we began to board. I landed at 7:40 p.m. I got home at almost 9 p.m.

Needless to say, I am still irked about the whole trip. It just seems that it's impossible to get from point A to point B anymore without this constant kind of problems. We, as passengers, have no say in what happens, we are left at the mercy of the airlines. They treat us rudely, as though it's our fault the plane is broken and refuse to help us. They take no responsibility. They expect people to have flexible time frames that will allow for delays and cancellations.

I understand that things happen, things out of the airlines' control. Yet it seems to be happening more and more. We're letting the airlines walk all over us. They're raising their prices, charging for EVERYTHING and treating us worse and worse.

I think we need Consumer Advocates on every flight. Someone designated to stand up for the economy passengers, the ones who don't get treated like royalty because we don't travel for business. We need someone to put the airlines to task, to make them answer for the fact that they cannot do their jobs properly. It's never anyone's fault, it seems. It's just the nature of airline travel.

But why is it the nature? Why do we get jerked around with little say while the airlines still make money? Why do their planes break just as you're about to take off. Shouldn't they, you know, CHECK THAT BEFORE WE GET ON THE PLANE??? Call me crazy but, really, shouldn't they check that before they have a gateload of passengers ready to board? I know they 'can't help it' but why is it that so many planes are experiencing mechanical failure? I know the economy sucks and airlines are fighting to make a profit but I can't help but think they might not be using their budgets wisely. I know they have to pay a lot more for fuel these days but so do we drivers. We manage. We budget for that. We also know to get our cars serviced when we can so they don't have mechanical 'failure' on a regular basis.

Here's a tip, United. Your planes seem prone to 'mechanical problems, so it seems like you should be used to getting them fixed. How's about you keep parts AT THE AIRPORTS instead of having them brought in from, I don't know, DOWNTOWN CHICAGO????

Sorry, I'm ranting now. I'm just fed up with airlines and the power they hold over us. They know we need them and they're exploiting us, slowly taking away our dignity and freedom so we're trapped in the little metal capsules, our knees up to our ears, debating on if we should pay $4 for a cookie because our stomach was growling and we didn't get time to eat because our connection was so tight we had to sprint.

Something needs to change. I'm not going to be flying for a while. I need a break. I shall be complaining to United. I expect nothing in return but it'll make me feel better. In the meantime, as passengers, we need to stand up and fight for our dignity. I intend to find a way to do it. I urge you to do it too. I may be just a little voice on a little blog but everything starts somewhere.

Happy Monday.

A Conspiracy Theory about Walmart....

So, it's a weird Monday morning today. I don't have to go to the office because it's the start of our conference this evening. We have to be in Indianapolis by the afternoon which means I have just about an hour before I start picking up my two coworkers and we take a road trip.

I have to admit, I'm still rather nervous about the conference. I ran through my presentation last night to make sure I would, at least, be able to say something to that room full of people. However, there are a couple of things that I talk about that scare me. You see, I have no idea what they mean. It'd be ok if I could just read the slides but I have to talk about them as though I know exactly what they mean. Since I inherited part of my presentation from a programmer who just quit to move to the Middle East, it's a very technical sort of thing. Methinks I should probably find out more about logging on startup and form configuration before I stand in front of 60+ people and talk about it.

Still, once the conference is over, I'll be able to move into my house which is rather exciting. I had a fantastically good time this weekend at garage sales with my sister and brother in law. I managed to get a full-sized bed (minus mattress) for $10, a lovely painting for $3 and all other kinds of good stuff none of which cost more than $1. I love garage sales.

I also spent some time at Walmart this weekend with my mother. I used to quite like going to Walmart because it was cheap and you could find excellent deals. Nowadays, I'm beginning to grow a wee bit suspicious of the giant chain and I now have a conspiracy theory to share with you.

You see, I think Walmart has lulled us in complacency with their low-low prices and super mass of goods for sale. For the past few years, they've taken over the U.S., spreading their tentacles into even the smallest towns, killing business that can't compete with their prices and selection. I confess, though I hated that Walmart was taking over, I appreciated that there was a place to go where I could find groceries and other goods at such a good price. Walmart got me through some hard financial times.

The problem is with the lulling. We all now instinctively believe that Walmart is the cheapest place to go for things. It's been the case for the past few years. For me, it was a question of 'do I want to drive all the way to Walmart and get things for cheaper or do I go to Kroger where it'll be more expensive but it's closer.'

Except, here's the thing: Walmart isn't so cheap anymore. Nope. I don't know if you Walmart shoppers out there have noticed but those low-low prices aren't quite so low-low anymore. In fact, compared to Kroger they're at least the same, if not higher.

I'm talking prices on produce, cleaning products, toothpaste, kitchenware, frozen foods...everything Walmart sells. Granted, it's not like the prices have skyrocketed but they've been creeping up so slowly that unless you pay attention, you might not notice. Take, for example, something I noticed. They carry a line of dog-treats called "Canine Carry-Outs." These are a more generic brand of expensive items like Begging Strips or the Purina treats. When I first discovered these treats for Sausage, I was excited. They cost $1.09 for a bag. That was six months ago. Then they went up to $1.15. Then they went up to $1.25. Now, they're around $1.49 a bag. That's a big increase over six months. It might not seem like it but did you notice how the price kept creeping up slowly instead of jumping?

I know the economy is a mess. I know everything costs more to make. The interesting thing is that other stores are lowering their prices to help us consumers out. The same brand of dog treats at Meijer, a Midwestern grocery chain, is $1.25 and has been for a while. It hasn't risen in price, nor has their price on produce or frozen foods. Perhaps Walmart's suppliers are charging more but, here's the thing, they're Walmart, I think they can afford to cushion us from the increasing prices a little, don't you?

Obviously, it's not just dog treats that are more expensive. I used to love that Walmart carried name brands but always a generic form that was comparable in quality but a fraction of the price. It's getting harder and harder to find the generic brands there. Even their kitchen section, or 'the spatula aisle' as I call it, has changed. It used to be a whole aisle of small kitchen things like lemon juices, whisks, strainers, spatulas, corn-cob holders, all those things you tend to find lying in your kitchen 'junk' drawer. That aisle used to be reliable because they had everything and it was cheap; it wasn't a name brand but it did the job. Yesterday, at Walmart, I went to that aisle and saw that it had dwindled. It's now a tiny little section and has been replaced by similar items but they're all Farberware or Oneida branded things.

Not that I have anything against Farberware or Oneida. That's good stuff. Yet it's also at least double the price of the old aisle. Yes, it's good quality but if you're at Walmart and you need to find a melon baller, wouldn't you rather get the one for $2.99 than the stainless steel one for $7.99? Sure, the quality would be better but it's a melon baller. How many melons are you really going to ball with it, seriously?

So, that's my theory. Walmart is rising their prices now because everyone just assumes they're cheapest. They're not. If you have one of those Kroger plus cards, it's cheaper to shop at Kroger (or Ralphs if you're on the West Coast). Even Meijer can be cheaper than Walmart. However, the company has everyone fooled into thinking they're the cheapest option; they're exploiting our trust. I'm not happy about that.

I'm also not happy that Walmart doesn't sell the new Green Day album because Green Day refused to allow them to censor it. I'm impressed that Green Day were able to put their principals above the potential money that would come in from Walmart's sales. I think they were right. I also think they were right when they pointed out that Walmart doesn't sell a CD that uses the F-word but they sell guns and maybe if they put Green Day's CD in the gun section, it would be alright.

Still, it's another sign that Walmart is a monster that has taken over the country. In many cases, there's nowhere to shop but Walmart. People protested when a store was going to open because they knew Walmart would kill local businesses and yet still Walmart came. Now we have no alternative but to shop there if we need things. It doesn't mean that Walmart should be taking advantage of that. I'm keeping my eye on them. I'll keep you posted.

Happy Monday.

Kerplunk....Green Day, Work and the luck of Diablo Cody

It's rainy, gloomy and thunderstormy out there today. The morning waited to begin this gloom until after I was out of bed a fact for which I am actually quite grateful. It's much harder to get up when you hear the pelt of the rain against the window and the crack of the storm outside. When you're already up and deciding what to wear, it's not so bad. In fact, it's quite helpful.

I'm going to try not to let the gloom affect my mood. I'm not feeling gloomy today. I'm no more enamoured with my job than I was yesterday but somewhere between my attempt to attack my job with enthusiasm and gusto and today, I realized that sitting there whining about having nothing to do is actually not a very Monkeypants thing to do. I'm generally a self-starter. I don't need someone to give me projects. I'm usually quite good at making up my own. I think I've been tripping over the fact that even after nine months, I'm still the new Captain Monkeypants on the block and I've been afraid to overstep my bounderies.

I recognize this place. It's the time in my job where I stop worrying about getting in trouble for doing the wrong thing and I start making decisions on my own and standing by my decision. It's also the time where I start figuring out how to tell my boss what to do. I'm a bit of a bully sometimes but it works quite well. I'm not mean; I just know what I want. And, at the moment, what I want is to be respected and needed in my position, not to sit here any longer realizing that if I didn't show up for work, the only people who'd notice were my office-mates who'd notice it was nice and quiet.

So, armed with this attitude, I'm feeling better about things. The 'busy work' needs to get done and if I sit here waiting for my coworker to help, I'll be waiting forever. Someone has to do it and that someone is me. Don't you feel like there should be some triumphant anthem swelling behind my bravado?

I'm fed up of blogging about work anyway. I think it's time to talk about something else. I'm not sure what that will be there. Let's see...I could blog about Green Day. I happened to listen to an online webcast of KROQ's "Breakfast with Green Day." I confess, it made me sad. If I hadn't moved to Ohio, I would have found a way to be at that breakfast. I got to do it with Linkin Park a couple of times. Green Day would have been way better. Not to say that Linkin Park aren't good but they're my number two band. Green Day are number one.

One of the interesting things I discovered was that Green Day named one of their new songs on their 21st Century Breakdown album, "East Jesus Nowhere." It turns out that the band had another name for the song but they saw Diablo Cody, writer of the movie Juno wearing a Green Day Kerplunk t-shirt and renamed their song after a quote from Juno. I happen to think that is pretty cool. Lucky Diablo Cody. I have no idea if she really is a fan of Green Day or she's one of those people who liked the design: A punky looking girl holding a gun. I know Diablo likes New Kids on the Block and lots of bad reality TV because she writes a column for Entertainment Weekly every once in a while. Again, lucky Diablo Cody. I'd love to write for EW. At the very least, I'd like to have Lisa Schwartzbaum's job since she irritates me every week with her bizarrely overworded reviews that often forget to mention the movie itself much at all.

Either way, whether Diablo is a fan of Green Day or she liked the shirt, I think it's pretty cool that Green Day are still in touch with the world enough to do that. There are a lot of big bands and solo singers who see themselves as seperate from their audience, like because they're rock stars/pop stars/country stars, they're better than the people who pay to see them in concert. I don't get that from Green Day or Linkin Park. That's one of the reasons I enjoy their music so much: Because the people behind it are real people.

One of these days I'd love Green Day to name a song after something I wrote. That would be pretty fantastic. In the meantime, I'll just continue to listen to them and get inspired to write. That's one thing I love about music in general; one song can create a novel in my head. There's a lot to be said about that.

Happy Wednesday.

Friday Ramblings: Philosophers, Brazen Bulls and (of course) Green Day...

I was robbed of my rainy day yesterday. I got out of work to discover the betrayal of the sun who had stolen the rainy day away and conquered. Currently, the sun is shining this morning even though the rain is supposed to move in later. We'll see. I think the only true way to predict the weather is to stick your head out the door and see what it's currently doing. Predicting any further than the current minute is a bit iffy.

Not to worry. It's Friday and it's sunny. I can't exactly complain about either of those two facts. As an added bonus, Green Day's new album has been released. If you haven't bought it/downloaded it, do it now. If your computer is anything like mine at home, if you start on iTunes now, you might have it by this evening. I was hoping to put the, uh, 'full' version of the album on my iPod instead of the sneakily obtained version I got last week. However, for now, I'll have to settle with that version. By this evening, I can put my pre-ordered iTunes version on my iPod along with the four bonus tracks. This is a good Friday.

As always, I'm glad it's Friday. It's been a rather long week for some reason. It's been TV season finale week for some of my shows which means as of next Monday after 24 finishes, I'm done with TV until Fall. I might watch some on DVD but since I dislike almost all reality-TV, I barely tune in for anything during the summer. It's rather liberating, actually. It means I can focus on getting my stuff packed up to move. It means I'll have more time to write. And yes, sadly, there are some nights where I'd rather watch TV than write.

Speaking of writing, I've noticed I'm not the only post in response to Nathan Bransford's blog. A lot of writers seem to be disagreeing with my point of view. I like that, actually. I still stand by my claim that writing is a craft, not a profession but it's interesting to hear other writers disagree. For the record, I also will claim 'blogger' as part of my identity. I don't get paid for that, either. I was thinking about that...where does the craft end and profession begin? What about philosophers? People are philosophers but...there aren't many professional philosopher jobs out there. Do you ever pull up Craigslist or Monster.com and see "Wanted: Philospher?" Does anyone ever want a philosopher? And yet....almost every university offers a degree in it. Interesting.

Sorry, I'm digressing. Well, actually I'm not sorry. It's a Friday post. I always digress and ramble on Fridays. I think it's because I stay up too late on Thursdays. Last night it was because of the stupid Grey's Anatomy season finale. Which, in my opinion, was pretty awful but I have a TV blog for ranting about that. I suppose its inevitable that even the good shows go downhill at some point but...I was hoping it wouldn't happen to Grey's which has suddenly decided it wants to be ER when it grows up.

Anyway, moving on...I've discussed philosophers, Green Day, TV and weather...I suppose I could throw politics in but I'll leave that to those that know more than me. I confess, I'm not terribly political. I want to make up stories for a living, would you really want to hear my opinions on politics?

I do keep hearing about waterboarding though. Apparently that's a hot topic along with the discussion of torture. I watch 24, waterboarding seems like a mild torture method after seeing Jack Bauer grab a hacksaw or use a hotel lamp and bowl of water to electrocute a suspect into talking. Also, I found an article on the website "How Stuff Works" the other day about ten brutal torture methods from the days of yore. Wow, people were cruel! The worst was this giant bronze bull, called the Brazen Bull, in which they'd trap their victim, lock him in and then heat the bull over a fire so the victim would roast to death, literally. When he screamed, his scream would be modulated so it sounded like the bull was roaring. There were others. I won't spoil your dinner with them but wow...when it comes to punishing people, we humans are creative. And brutal.

Ok, I think that might be enough random thoughts for one Friday. You might start thinking I'm a little dark and twisty since I seem to be fascinated with torture methods. Not that I support torture but I am fascinated by creativity in doing so.

Perhaps I ought to talk about something happy and bright like...butterflies and flowers. There are some lovely lilacs beside the entrance to my apartment building. They smell heavenly, even when it rains. There, you can have that as the image with which to finish reading my blog, not the giant bronze bull. That I just brought up again. Oops.

Have a great weekend!

Writing as Identity: Money or Love?

Today did not begin well. I refuse to accept that as an omen that the day is doomed. I will, however, keep my smoke detector in my hall closet for a little while as a punishment for being so sensitive.

I burned my toast. The entire building now knows. In order to stop my smoke detector from making the piercing horrible noise that is still ringing in my ears an hour later, I had to quickly rip it off the ceiling and throw it in the closet. As I am not a giant, this involves standing on a chair. Unfortunately, the chair almost tipped. It did not, however, and I am taking that as a good sign.

I also got trapped by a train today. The tracks wind sleepily through town and it's inevitable that you have to cross them at some point. There was a train just sitting on the tracks almost the entire way through town and I had to go around. Fortunately, it gave me a chance to listen to more Green Day and nibble on my burned toast and contemplate life.

More specifically, it gave me a chance to contemplate my writing. I read an agent's blog yesterday that made me think a lot. The agent is Nathan Bransford, an agent who blogs fairly regularly. I'm not actually a huge fan of his, not only because he set the record for rejecting one of my queries- twelve minutes after I emailed it- but because, based on his blog, he tends to come across as a little superior and that sometimes rubs me the wrong way.

He had a blog a couple of days ago about "Writing as Identity" in which he said how unsettling he found it when people defined themselves as writers. By this, he was referring to the writers who say "I am a writer. It's who I am." These are the writers who claim that writing is like oxygen, that they cannot live without it. His claim is that people shouldn't define themselves by what they do in their spare time, for example, comparing it to someone who is enjoys reality TV but doesn't walk around claiming "They are a connisseur of reality TV." Well, no, Nathan because that would be both silly AND embarrassing.

However, while my first reaction was to be offended and angry at him, I stopped and thought about it. I know I set up this blog to talk about writing, to give me an outlet so I could write often and regularly yet...was I guilty of the charges he laid down? Am I self-indulgent enough to think of myself only as a writer and everything else secondary?

Given some of my posts on rejection and how personal it feels, I am guilty. Nathan says ofof these writers that, "They've stopped enjoying the writing process, and because writing is so wrapped up in their self-conception, they can't bear the pain of rejection and instead look outward for blame."

He might have a point. I do that at times. Hence the fact that I'm boycotting Amazon.com. I don't know how not to feel that I'm disappointing those characters who've charged me with telling their story. I'd say I'd like to be more businesslike about my writing and not make it such a personal thing but, well, what kind of writer would I be then? I used to dabble in journalism and I hated the impersonal nature of it. Anyone can use words to describe facts but not everyone can make those facts interesting and readable.

It's clear from his blogs that Nathan Bransford is a rational creature, one who thrives on the business side of being an agent rather than the creative side. There's nothing wrong with this except his job as an agent is to represent writers. Given some of the comments on his blog, there are definitely writers out there who write because they can, because they can earn money at it, writers who don't have any emotional tie to what they do. I find that fascinating; not because I can't do that but...I don't want to. I thought about it. I've done it. I hated it.

Believe me, I'd sometimes rather love to divorce myself from writing so that I could just do it but not care about it; it would be less draining and disappointing. But...then why would I do it? I like my job in software. I like my friends and family. I have a life outside of writing. But it's writing that gives me that passion, that thrill, that realization that makes me feel like I'm complete. I've had my ephiphany moment where I just knew. From then on, I wrote. I can almost hear Nathan groaning that this is exactly what he meant. I will say that while I could live without writing in my life, that it isn't the oxygen that keeps me going, it does make my life that much brighter, more enjoyable. People don't need sports but it doesn't stop people from dressing head to toe in their team colours, putting up posters and banners, drinking out of mugs while using a mouse-pad adorned with their teams-logo, does it? Sports enhance people's lives. Writing enhances mine. Try telling a die-hard Red Sox fan that their team means nothing, that it's just a stupid hobby. I dare you.

I do tell people I'm a writer sometimes. Most of the time, I don't bother unless it comes up in conversation. This blog is about as nametaggy as I get as to the fact that I'm a writer. I don't go to coffee shops with my laptop so people can see that I write. I don't pull out my notebook everytime I'm with friends and there's a silence so that they can see I'm a writer. I don't carry Stephen King's On Writing with me all the time even though I love that book.

Yet I can't stop my brain from constantly seeing stories in everything around me, hearing an idea from a song on the radio (or, in my case, my iPod). I can't stop myself from filing away news stories for future plot points. Sometimes it would be nice to be able to turn that off. I've actually tried and it doesn't work. I'm still figuring out how to steal something someone told me and work it into a story, even when I think I'm not thinking about writing.

Originally, Mr. Bransford referred to writing as a hobby. He changed that, I think because he realized that saying that was a wee bit condescending. Yes, writing is a hobby for me because it doesn't pay my bills. Yet since I've been watching the Food Network, I've started to love cooking. Yet don't go around thinking I'm a chef and I never will. I consider Mario Batali and Bobby Flay to be chefs just as I consider J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman and Stephen King to be writers. I consider Beethoven, Mozart, Green Day and Andrew Lloyd Webber to be composers and musicians. You know why? Because that's what they are. I guarantee in all of the cases I cited, those people enjoy it, they do it because they have no choice: it's their path in life.

I'm not arrogant enough to suggest I'm in the same league as J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman and Stephen King. Yet...is it because they get a paycheck that we get to say "they're writers?" Is it because they are fortunate enough to get paid for it that they have the permission to be a writer? Or is J.K. Rowling really just a former unemployed single mother who happened to write one of the best children's books and become a multi-millionaire because of it. Is it always about the money?

It would make sense that to agents like Nathan Bransford, that would be the case. It's his job to get writers to the point where they're making money so that he can make money. Yet...where is that line? I suppose he has a point that stamp collectors don't go around claiming to be a stamp collector and making that their identity. Reality-TV watchers don't claim that's who they are. I don't deny that there is a line between claiming to be a writer and actually being one. I am a firm believer that a writer has to write to be a writer. They can't be a coffee-shop dabbler who thinks they are a writer but doesn't do more than read books about it, make outlines and tell people about it. A real writer just writes because we love it. So what should we call ourselves? People-who-have-full-time-jobs-but-have-this-horrible-need-to-go-home-and-make-up-stories? Should I call myself a story-maker-upper-hobbyinst instead of a writer? Or am I allowed to say I'm a writer because...I am? Does making money at what you love grant you the title and identity or is it the thing itself?

I suppose it depends on how you look at it. I like my way better. Naturally. I suppose Mr. Bransford would probably argue that I am one of those writers that he criticized and the reason I'm writing this is because he rejected me. I would argue that's not the case. I just think there should be two sides to every argument. This is mine.

Happy Wednesday!

I am a Creature of Habit and Routine...

I am a creature of habit and routine. Over the years, I have fought against this, trying to be more spontaneous, trying to embrace alternatives to the usual but, over the years, I have learned that nothing can be done about it: I know what I like, I know when I like to do it and it takes me a while to get used to something new.

There have been times when a change in my planned routine is welcome. Usually it's on a day that I've planned to be productive and someone says "let's go see a movie" and I say "Ok!". Sadly, this is the highlight of my spontenaity, no matter how hard I try.

Take for example today. It's Monday. It is my routine on Mondays to make myself get out of bed after a night of not sleeping well. I never sleep well on Sunday nights. It's a throwback to those Sunday evenings when I was in school when I'd have homework to do, bullies to avoid, the chance of getting anything less than an 'A' in a class. I would sleep badly then, dreading the beginning of the week. Nowadays, I don't have that sense of dread but I still sleep restlessly, lamenting the end of the weekend. On Mondays, when I do get up, I have a mini-rationalization session with myself as to why I HAVE to go to work today, even though the thought of sleeping more or doing nothing all day appeals. Then, when I finally get up, it takes me a while to actually wake up. I never have the energy to make coffee on Monday mornings, choosing instead to drink the vile office coffee when I finally make it to work.

This Monday morning was exactly the same, even though I tried to make it different. I woke up twice in the night, one time because it began raining hard, the other just because I couldn't sleep. I had the usual "I don't want to go to work today debate with myself." I lost. I'm at work. Again...I am a creature of habit.

So, here I sit on this Monday morning. It's gloomy and grey outside but the sun is attempting to come out and I think as the day passes, it will brighten up. It's quiet driving through town today; the students at the university have all left for the summer and the usual joggers, early morning-class goes who stumble to the bus stop and students who wander into the street without looking because they're too busy texting as they walk to actually notice what's going on them are absent. It's very peaceful and nice out there. I loved working on USC's campus; during the summer, the pace slowed and though work still had to be done, the pressure was less.

That's not the case with this job since I no longer work for a university but I do think living in a college town will be similar. I'm supposed to go out with coworkers tonight to see "Star Trek" and have dinner. Having dinner will be a pleasure because only the 'townies' will be around and the aura of calm will have already infiltrated the town. Actually, I will say, that for me, I am being spontaneous tonight, normally I spend Monday evenings watching House and 24 and making something nutritious and good for dinner. I'm not worried. I use Hulu.com for all my television needs now when I miss an episode. (Thank you, Hulu for making it easier for me to be a creature of habit and not miss an episode of my shows).

Yet even with the newfound calm of this little town, it's still a Monday. It would be a monotonous day except that I'm currently listening to the new Green Day album which is not available for sale until Friday but which the band has generously provided a way to listen to it online. Of course, this does mean that there are ways to get the album ahead of time and listen to it on one's iPod. Which I would never do because I am a good Captain Monkeypants.

Whatever. I have to snicker at that because I'm listening to it on my iPod even now. Yes, some would call it theft. Others, like me, would call it an emergency. What do they expect? You do NOT tease a Monkeypants like me with great songs like "21st Century Breakdown" and "The Static Age" and make me wait a week. Besides, I've already pre-ordered the CD so I'm going to purchase it when it does officially get released. This is probably rationalization but I'm a firm believer in paying for good music and so I will. I just don't think it's nice to be mean and taunt us with the good stuff and then say "you can't have it for another week."

I'm a huge Green Day fan. I think I've mentioned that. They're a band that I've loved for many years. They inspired an entire novel with their last album. Listening to this new one? I'm already getting ideas. It's different from American Idiot in many ways. It's older, wiser, less rebellious but still inherantly Green Day. I haven't quite figured out the story yet because I haven't listened to it enough but when you hear a song like "The Static Age" and you get a happy thrill in the pit of your stomach because you know you've just fallen in love with a song on first listen...you know it's good.

I love Green Day because they know how to reach everyone. They have enough angst and anthems to keep getting young rebels interested in their music for the first time but they have enough experience and wisdom to be able to give those of us that have followed them for a while a new version of who they are. It works for them. I can't say this album, 21st Century Breakdown is better than American Idiot because I just don't know. At the moment, I'd say not because it's hard to replace your favourite album of all time with something else, even by the same band and, as aforementioned, I am a creature of habit and routine. However, who knows, after a few listens, I may change my mind. I'm open to the possibility.

So, though in many ways, it's a typical Monday, I'm trying to make it different. Not so different that I feel like the universe is out-of-whack but different enough that I don't look at it like it's Monday, the enemy to my weekend freedom, the mantle of having to be responsible and productive wearing heavy on my shoulders. Unfortunately, there are some things that you just can't change though and even with great music, it's still a Monday. I shall go forth into the day, armed with my Green Day and ready to work hard. I'll also try to talk myself out of going home and trying to figure out how to set my DVR to record my TV shows with my HD converter box just so I can watch 24 on the night it airs. I keep telling myself that's what Hulu.com is for but old habits die hard. Especially when you're me.

Happy Monday.

The Roadtrip of Writing...

Rather than dwell on my lack of advancement in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award, I've decided to ignore it completely for now. I won't lie and say the disappointment has already vanished because that would be a lie. I won't say that every now and again, I don't have the urge to check the postings on the site to make sure I wasn't one of the winners. I'm not going to make up excuses or be bitter. I venture to guess that a large percentage of the semi-finalists have also had their share of rejections and disappointment and they are finally getting a chance to be read.

So, I'm deciding to embrace that which I do have in my life rather than what I don't have. For example, today is looking to be a beautiful day. The sun is finally shining, the trees along the roads that line my route to work have exploded into white cotton-ball-like blossoms with a few hardy pink magnolias thrown in. The tulips have budded, ready to show their blooms and the daffodils and forsythia each throw their indulgent yellow tones out into a world that has seemingly turned back to green overnight.

I woke up to the sound of Green Day on my alarm clock. For anyone who knows me, Green Day is my absolute favourite band in the entire world. I haven't gushed about how excited I am that less than a month from now, on May 15th, their new album "21st Century Breakdown" will be released. Consider me gushing now. Today, their first single from the album, "Know your Enemy", is going to be released on iTunes. As of half an hour ago, it wasn't there yet. I know because I already tried to download it. I'll be patient and get it tonight. I'm excited. Their last album, "American Idiot," is my all-time favourite rock album. It inspired me to write an entire novel. Even if their follow-up only has a couple of good songs (which I doubt), I wait with excited anticipation. Any day, like today, that starts with Green Day has to be good. It's a law. In my head.

I'm also grateful for Facebook. Through this site, I have had the chance to reconnect to friends that I haven't talked to in years but wondered where life has taken them. I'm in touch with some of my family in the UK. Through simple things as "Status Updates" and "Five Favourite Things", I can learn about them, see what they're up to. It's a powerful thing. Yesterday, when I was so deflated about the Amazon contest, my friends rallied in support, posting lovely positive praise about my writing and letting me know that this isn't the end, but the beginning. Sometimes you just need to hear things like that. Yesterday, I did.

My family is the same. They seem to believe in me, no matter how often I feel like I'm losing my way. My mother, especially. It's nice to feel appreciated. I know, as a writer, you're not supposed to use your mother as your 'Ideal Reader' (to poach a term from Stephen King). However, my mother is a reader. She's an extremely discriminating one. She is the one I can count on to tell me if a book I'm thinking about reading is worth the time. This is why occasionally I'll give her a stack of my unread books and tell her to let me know if they're worth my time. I'm lazy. She doesn't mind. It works out well. This is why I always let her read my stories and novels first. She is positive but she will tell me what's wrong with my story, whether the ending is too treacly, whether she doesn't like a character. It's a useful thing and it keeps me going.

I also found out I can now buy a house. That's a terrifying thing. I've been approved for a mortgage. Technically, the shopping can begin. I've never house-shopped before. I don't really know what to look for. I'm a bit afraid I'll find a place with a darling fireplace, a lovely garden and I'll forget that working plumbing, unexposed wires and solid walls are usually a must for a habitable environment these days. Still, it's an exciting prospect. It also means I'm really turning into a grown-up. That's a terrifying thought but it had to happen sometime.

So, though I'm still feeling the lapping of disappointment whenever I sit back and forget to block it out, it's not the end of the world. It's not the end of my writing. My characters are still in my head, waiting for their stories to be told. I still feel the tug of excitement as I realize my current novel is going in a completely different direction to what I originally planned. Though I did ask Gaz, my main character, if he'd have any objection to being turned into a vampire and/or being written for young adults. That's the target market these days, it seems, for fantasy.

Gaz said no. He wasn't very nice about it. Which, actually, given the fact that he's not particularly nice anyway, wasn't a surprise. I think I'll stick to keeping him who he is. Characters are far more interesting when you let them tell you who they are, when you don't try to make them into a cookie-cutter hero or a typical villain. I'll let him tell me his story though I might have to censor him a bit. He has a foul mouth that one. Throw in an East London accent and you have a very interesting man although he's made me promise I won't picture the Geico Gekko when he's talking. It's hard not to though. I love that lizard.

So, on this lovely spring morning, I'm accentuating the positive and ignoring the negative. It's getting easier already. Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it's the fact that Green Day are back with fresh material, maybe it's the fact that I've realized, once again, having good family and friends in my life can make up for a lot of things I don't have. Whatever it is, I'm looking forward, not back. Like a smart friend said yesterday, roadtrips are often more fun than the actual destination. My writing is my journey, success is the destination. If I get there too quickly, I won't have time to wind down the windows, turn up the music and eat too much junk food. Road trips are the best things, especially when you have good company. I'm lucky in that regard; my friends and my family are always there, supporting me, entertaining me and reminding me to look out the windows and enjoy the view. Even when it's raining, it's still a good ride.

Happy Thursday.

An Author in Search of Six* Characters (*six not required)

I've been blogging a lot lately. Given my tribulations with the DMV, it's probably healthier that I deal with my frustration using my writing rather than use, say, physical violence. That's the nice thing about writing. It's such a great outlet. Of course, it's also nice to unleash a torrent of frustration on a listening ear- I have a few of those and am grateful for all of them- but there's something nice about pouring your heart out about how you really feel. As you've probably noticed from my Stephanie Meyer rants, I tend to be slightly opinionated about...certain topics, particularly books.

I also love to blog because it's like a daily writing exercise. My writing has been at a bit of a standstill lately. I sent out queries to agents and haven't heard a word back, not even a rejection. Since I made a promise to myself that I'd try much harder to actually do something with my novels before I started another one, that promise seems to be buried in my subconcious and putting up a wall whenever I think about starting a new novel. I have a couple of ideas but none which are leaping to the front of the queue. So I've been doing little writing exercises to get myself over the hurdle of not writing.

When I write, music is of the utmost importance. In all honesty, every one of my novels has been inspired by a song that I've heard that's caused my mind to create a story around it. Sometimes the story is influenced by the song. Green Day's American Idiot album inspired a whole novel. I never stole from Green Day but I let their music weave a story in my mind using phrases from the songs to create a framework. I still love that novel because whenever I listen to American Idiot, Jimmy DeLeon, my main character, is suddenly in my mind again.

That's what I've been doing lately. I've been listening to songs and then writing based on that song. Last week, I did a short piece based on The Airborne Toxic Event's "Sometime Around Midnight." It's an awesome song, romantic, yearning, full of heartbreak and sadness and nostalgia. So that's the short story I wrote. I have no idea if it's legal or not to do that. I'm not plagarizing the song, just letting it tell me what to write. Now I'm doing one for Coldplay's "Viva la Vida." That one is harder because there are so many possibilities.

Whether or not it is legal, I don't care. I do care that I'm getting over my mental block. I don't consider it writer's block because I am still writing and I figure if I refuse to believe in writer's block, I won't ever suffer from it. I might have writer's 'obstacles' but not writer's block. It's the same thing as when I am in the middle of a novel and I get stuck. One of my tricks is to 'go out' with a character. I suppose that sounds insane to anyone who doesn't write but it's a really great way to get over being stuck. When I go out with my characters, I usually pick a location that suits the character. For example, in my romantic drama about a skateboarder and his unattainable crush, I was having trouble getting inside the skateboarder's mind. His name is Jamey. So I decided we needed to go to the beach (much easier in California than it would be now in Ohio). I packed up my bag, took my notebook and headed out. It turned out to be a rainy, cloudy day but it also ended up being perfect. What I do is 'interview' the characters, just let them talk to me. Sometimes, I'll ask questions, sometimes I'll just let them tell me their history.

It does sound crazy when I type it out but, I'm telling you, it's never failed to work. It's not like I'm actually talking out loud to them. I only do that in places where I know people won't see me. No, I just let it be a thought process between us. I've learned some fascinating things about my characters that way.

I suppose to a non-writer, that really does sound a little mental. After all, if I create a character, I should know everything about him/her already, right?

Not for me. I think I've explained before that I never really feel like I create the characters. They just sort of find me and they're the ones that guide my story. I tried hard to steer my last novel but my main character just didn't change the way he was supposed to and I ended up with a different version of my novel than the one I'd originally planned. The one that I did finish was better, it was twistier, darker but also ended much differently than the novel I'd set out write. I think that was the moment when I truly did realize that I don't control my novels, the characters do. I like that.

So, the question is, do I still keep up the ever-necessary quest to find an agent, stalling future writing in hopes that my past writing will get notice or do I take a break and write something new, riding out the storm of this nasty economy and hope that publishing takes an upswing and agents are more willing to read unpublished author's work?

I think I'll see what happens. I'll keep my mind open to new characters, new music, new ideas and, when I'm ready, I'll start a new novel. I think that's the best I can do. I'd say I was holding out to win the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award but, as I've said, that's a crapshoot, something for me to do with a finished novel rather than a place to truly pin my hopes and dreams. It's just another unanswered question like those queries I sent to agents; I never thought I'd want to be rejected but better that than no response at all, I suppose. I always was a creature who liked closure.

You know, I am starting to get an idea for a novel about the DMV so maybe I will start something new.

Happy Tuesday.

I'm an Adult and I Blame the Jonas Brothers

So, last night as I'm watching TV, getting ready for Grey's Anatomy, it occurred to me that I'm getting old. It was one of those horrible, sudden realizations that stops you cold for just a second. Ok, so I am approaching my mid-thirties and it's not that old but you have to understand, until recently, I still sort of counted myself on the side of the young 'uns and not of the grown-ups.

I think it's time to admit I'm a grown-up, an adult. Eek. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've been living like a kid. My bed is a grown up bed, not some princessy, curtain-draped wonder. I cook. I clean. I even occasionally do my own laundry. I act like an adult, I've just never really felt like one.

You might wonder what spurned this revelation. Well, in all honesty, it was those blasted Jonas Brothers. You have to be somewhat familiar with them. They're the hot teen band; you cannot go into Walmart without seeing their stuff displayed by the Hannah Montana merchandise. I think there are three of them, they're Disneyfied boys, prettied up to get the girls screaming and they play that bubblegum rock that makes your teeth feel like it's going to fall out of your head with the sweet teen-ness of it all.

Last night I saw a preview for their movie or whatever it is they're promoting and I thought to myself, "what funny looking little boys" and then it hit me, I called them little boys. My mind flickered to the audience for whom they exist and I realized that I had no connection to this generation, that it had moved on and so had I.

I think this is the first generation with which this has happened. I try to stay pretty current in my music tastes. I'm a die-hard Green Day fan, I love Linkin Park, I love My Chemical Romance, I like some of the songs they used in the Twilight movie. (I'm sad to admit that Stephanie Meyer and I do have similar taste in music and when she lists the songs that on her writing playlist, they're usually very similar to mine). I'm always worried that I'll seem like an old person trying to be young but, in truth, I really don't care. I've always loved music and that will most likely never change.

I will say that even when I was a teen, it's doubtful I would have liked the Jonas Brothers. With my generation, it was New Kids on the Block or, as they're so fondly known, NKOTB. I despised them in high school. I was annoyed at their popiness, their irritating sickly ballads, their clean-cut looks and their horrible choreographed dancing. I was into the hard rock stuff, Bon Jovi, Skid Row, Def Leppard, Cinderella. Well, that was until I suddenly started listening to showtunes and I became a complete an utter nerd but I've already told you about that.

Yet even though I didn't care for NKOTB, I cared enough to tease my friends who did and, deep down, understood why they liked them...yet it still wasn't for me.

With the Jonas Brothers, I realized I didn't even care enough to mock them. They exist but they have nothing to do with me. I wouldn't know if I heard them on the radio, all I'd know is that I was on the wrong station and scan for another one. Even with the craze before that, High School Musical (HSM), I had seen the first stupid movie. It was when I lived alone in L.A. and I had a free preview weekend of the Disney Channel (I only ever had basic, basic, BASIC cable- local channels only with a few odd extras). I thought it looked interesting when they previewed the first HSM. I still like a good musical and I thought "That looked cute."

Bad idea. I thought it was awful. It was a shiny-happy version of high school and not one that I remembered. I knew it was Disney but wow, was it Disney, the dimples, the shiny hair, the happy ending...give me that in a cartoon form, change the characters into monkeys or something and I might like it but not with those insipid kids with their flat-ironed hair and trained-from-birth singing voices.

Yet, you'll notice, I still cared enough to pick on it, to make fun of it. I would never mock the fans of it unless they were over the age of 16 but you get the point, right?

Those Jonas Brothers are just a sign of the times. They're a safe transition from pre-teen to teenagerness. Yet, to me, they're just there. I don't even groan when I see their posters the way I do with the two leads from Twilight because the kids like The Jonas Brothers and let 'em have their music.

(Of course, the Twilight thing might be because every picture I see of Rob Pattinson and Kristen Stewart looks like they've been smoking something they shouldn't have. Seriously, want a visual picture of 'stoned', look at the latest cover of Entertainment Weekly.)

I digress. Again. Anyway, back to the Jonas Brothers. They make me feel old. I do still remember the butterflies that a pre-teen crush can bring.*

(*side note: I already confessed I used to love George Michael. Today, a remake of "Careless Whisper" was on the radio and I still know every word without thinking. Bizarre.)

Yet I don't get the fuss about the Jonas Brothers and I don't care. The kids like 'em. That's all that matters. And by saying 'the kids' I'm separating myself off as an adult.

I suppose it had to happen sometime, I had to come out of the closet and admit I was a grown-up, no matter how many times I watch or read Harry Potter but I just didn't expect it to happen so suddenly and without my knowing it was going to happen.

I suppose it had to happen sometime, right?

Have a great weekend.