Hiding from the STUFF!

I'm back in school now, working away at a 5-day-a-week, 8 to noon schedule at the school. I leave the house at 6:30a and get home around 1 or 2p and I often take a nap in the afternoon before I jump on the homework. Of the four classes I'm taking, only French is bothering me at this point. Pretty normal class load, aside from the driving.

Sadly, I've discovered a new and disturbing trend in myself. When I'm worn out from a hard day of school and dodging crazy people on the highway it's really hard to concentrate on getting my projects done. Yes, that is projects with an 's'. Let me take you on a small tour of my distractions.

First up, the Elizabethan tall hat!

This little beauty is supposed to be done in time for the final dress rehearsal of this fall's Baron's Men show. That will be Tuesday of next week. I've had the parts all cut out and waiting to be assembled for over a month now. Should it ever get finished, it will be covered in a lovely gold brocade and lined in a shockingly bright royal blue silk. I have no idea when that might be.

Next up, the experimental fuzzy purple armwarmers:

I've got a friend who works in an office filled with computers all day. She gets cold very easily and asked me to make her some arm warmers. I agreed then figured out that I didn't have the right measurements for the set. While I was chewing over the patterns available, my daughter leaned over my shoulder and demanded a set for herself. Since she's here, I can use her to figure out exactly which measurements I'll need from my friend who happens to live a few states away. These might actually be done sometime this year if I can quit messing up the math and just settle in for good long knit.

Then we have the Blue Stripey Sock:

This poor sock has been in the process for over a year. I pick it up, do a few rounds, put it down and then misplace it. Currently the sock is living in my backpack and I'm using it to distract and annoy my morning lecturer. It's ok, the feeling is mutual.

I've also got the Stalled Beading/Embroidery Project:

This picture doesn't have the tiny gold glass beads in it and all the colors seem a little pinker then in real life. The bodice is for my daughter and it's a very rich garnet colored velvet. I'm trying to find a pretty, late period, slightly Spanish-looking pattern that I can put on it but I haven't made up my mind yet. This needs to be done before Candlemas (first weekend of Feb. ) next year. It might happen.

Right this second, I've got a Cooking Experiment going on:

This slightly scatological looking set-up is my test batch of beef jerky. I'm experimenting with different spices, wines, and cuts of meat to see what will work best. While I expect this will be done inside of an hour, I'm going to have to arm myself and stand watch over it, since the family is sniffing around like late-winter bears.

Now why am I doing all of this right now? It's avoidance actually. By taking on multiple projects, many of which have a finite deadline, I'm avoiding both my homework ( just kidding Madame Jackson!), and I've avoiding having to try and put this:

The pile in the library, into this:





Which is a very small craft room. I've been working at getting rid of things in there for months now and it's much smaller then it used to be, but it's not done yet.

In between all this, I'm still broadcasting every Thursday night on the CAPE Radio, working on the Board of Directors for The Baron's Men, working with the local Red Cross to help flood victims, talking to schools for the Education Committee, and attempting to be a wife and mother. I have a theory I'll meet myself going down the stairs one of these days and that'll be the end of me. In the meantime though, it's kind of nice to be busy again.

Big Girl School

Once upon a time I had a plan. I was going to work hard on my language skills and go to school at the American University in Paris. I was going to major in International Business and come back to the States to work at the U.N. as an interpreter. Eventually, I'd get picked up by a multi-national corporation and spend my time jet-setting around the world. I'd live out of hotel rooms and a suitcase and never have to worry about mowing my own lawn.

So much for dreams.

Instead I had a baby and just managed to graduate, escaping from my parents house as soon as I possibly could. My first husband was unemployed, abusive and unfaithful, quickly pushing me to divorce. My second husband, while certainly a much better human being, had trouble keeping a job for very long and I found myself needing to work to support us and the baby. There never really was time to do much more then survive.

Eventually, the baby went to school and the husband got a better job. After serious consideration, I started back to school at the local community college. I'd go for a semester, then quit because of lack of money. A short-term job later and I'd go back, still trying to figure out what I was going to do when I grew up. I found out that in spite of my fondness for it, I wasn't very good at learning languages, so the interpretor thing wasn't going to work out.

Over time, thanks to an understanding husband and the ability to go to school on my lunch break, I managed to get two full years (and a little extra) of college at the small-time community college. I was given the choice and transferred to a state university nearby in order to finish up a Bachelor's degree in History with a minor in Theater. I've got several of the history-specific course already done thanks to the years of not knowing what I wanted to do and I'm going to attempt to talk the dean of the theater department into giving me credit for all the work I've already done. Being on the Board of Directors for a non-profit theater troupe will come in handy for that.

Tomorrow, I go to a real university for the first time as a student. I'm not sure I can explain how excited I am. I have always craved more knowledge, seeking out books and teachers on my own for topics that interest me. I get to start my morning with British Lit and then indulge in a History of Tudor and Stuart Britain. Yum! I've also got yet another round of French in the hope that something will stick this time, and some Biology which I have no opinion on as yet. I've taken bio from some very good teachers and done well, some very bad ones and done poorly. I hope this is one of the good ones. I'm going to work as hard as I can to make sure this semester is as perfect as possible.

While I'm not looking forward to getting up at 5:45am for my hour long bus ride every morning, I'm excited about everything else. I hope I'll have some wonderful new books to talk to you about soon.

Dust Buffalo

Please excuse the lack of update, I've been directing a stampede.

You see, I have a 15 year old daughter who craves variety. She decided she wanted a change of view and asked if she could swap my craft room for her bedroom. After thinking about it some, I really didn't see why not and agreed. After all, I'm a military brat. I'm used to packing up and moving fairly often and I wanted a change of view as well so this was a cheaper way to do it.

I may have grown up always on the move but I forgot that we've lived in this same house for 10 years. 10 whole years! In one place! I've always suspected that it wasn't actually possible but the time does slip away quickly. The corollary to time passes is stuff collects and I had forgotten that important detail.

So far I've pulled 9 bags of trash out of the craft room in 2 days. I've stepped on various assorted buttons, calligraphy pens, straight pins, and odd metal doo-dads that I have no name for. I have located a giant pile of half-done craft projects ranging from paper mache to leather work to blackwork to lacemaking. I'd forgotten about the tapestry loom and I really don't remember buying that green lace or why I'd need such a thing. The bobbin lace project is hopelessly snarled and there are multiple loose patterns running around.

Many of my friends believe in the concept of keeping a bunch of materials in stock in their craft rooms. The idea is that if they have a craving to build a hat at 3am then they have all the stuff on hand and can be hatting until breakfast or they feel better, whichever comes first. I'm starting to think that for a person with hoarder-like tendencies that might not be the best idea however. I just keep picking up craft things on sale and tossing them in the room with the idea that "I'll use this sometime". The right project for that particular item never comes up though and it just gathers dust in the room. Eventually there's more wrong stuff in the room then room and I have to do my crafting elsewhere.

I come by these tendencies genetically if not honestly. My mother has always had a very bad habit of collecting more stuff in the house then she needs. Every 6 months or so she has a huge garage sale and wastes massive amounts of time and energy to make about $50. She labels everything, has a cash box, puts out ads and signs, and makes about enough money to pay for the sale. My sister hasn't ever managed to get to the actual yard sale itself. She almost lost custody of her children because she had too much stuff in her house. The memory of that tiny apartment crammed literally to the ceiling with junk still gives me nightmares. I know this could be a problem, but it's hard to remember to fight back against it.

So, I'm going to toss out lots of old junk. I'm going to go through what's left and have a crafting and book sale. I'm going to invite my crafting friends on purpose since I figure that would be the audience who wants this stuff and I'll make sure to give people plenty of lead time before-hand to save. I'll even take checks. And at the end of the day I will drive all the leftovers to Salvation Army and leave them there, because I value my sanity more then I value two hand-spans of black stretch velvet.

For now I will go back and keep cleaning the room. I've got to get the closet, spinning wheel, and antique table out, plus dig through the piles of costumes stored in there. I also need to remove the herd of dust buffalo and set them free outside to wander around and disturb the neighbors. Break out the carpet rakes!

Misfortunes will happen...

...to the best and wisest of men [Pawnee Proverb]

Every now and then you run across a book series that makes you want to go right out and buy all the other books in that series. Some times you want to go out and buy everything else that author has ever written. When I first ran across Terry Pratchett's Discworld series I fell in love. I adored the characters, I dug the dry jokes, and I was endlessly amused by the footnotes. Like Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett is one of those tasty mental treats that comes out of England and it shows in his writing style.

For the few innocents who have no idea what I'm talking about with Discworld, I have taken the liberty of linking you to Mr. Pratchett's official website. As far as I can tell he has written a set of books where the only consistent character is the world itself. Inside the main series, he has written several mini-series' that keep the focus on one particular part of this very unusual world and set of people. Most fans tend to prefer one set of characters over another, but you really have to try them all on for size.

The newest mini-series in the Discworld universe that I've started is based around a guy with the pleasant name of Moist von Lipwig. Aside from his name, Moist is also unlucky enough to be a very good confidence man who has just been caught and is on his way to hung by the neck until dead. Removed at just past the last moment from the gallows by the ruler of the city, Lord Vetinari, Moist is given the job of resuscitating the local Post Office. He manages to pull this off with a huge bag of tricks, some left-over loot, and the help of a bunch of giant clay golems. He is ably assisted by a girlfriend nicknamed Spike, a strange cross between a Postal Workers Union and a Masonic Lodge, and the tendency of his own mouth to run away with him. Moist has to fend off a hostile semaphore monopoly trying to shut him down while still clearing out decades of undelivered mail from the Post Office building itself.The fact that he not only does it, but does it while telling people to their faces that he's a fraud makes Going Postal a really fun book to read.

When the next book in the set came up, I was very anxious to read it. In Making Money we find out that Moist is getting sort of twitchy. He's been a good honest citizen for awhile now and it's starting to wear on him. When Lord Veninari offers him a job in charge of the Royal Mint and Royal Bank he's not really eager to jump in. However, he inherits the position of Bank Manager and gets into the swing of things. And that's when this book started to fall apart for me. You see, in Going Postal, there's a certain amount of frantic mental flapping, some twists and a few surprise loop-de-loops that make a reader want to stand up and cheer. But in Making Money the same flapping occurs. There's the same kind of plot twists and you can see the loop a mile away. Even though our hero has been put into a remarkable similar position to last time, he pretty much the same things over again. The shenanigans are terribly predictable. I kept reading to see if there were some new ones, but I was disappointed.

Am I saying if you read one, don't read the other? NO!! What I saw as a predictable plot point came totally out of left field for a few of the other people I know who read Discworld. I'm a real pain in the butt when it comes to guessing the murderer during the first 15 min. of the film and figuring out my birthday presents too, so please don't go on only my experience. However, if you're just getting into Discworld, save one of them to be read after you've looked at a few other things. I find that I like Making Money quite a bit more if I don't read Going Postal just before hand. Try Small Gods or Equal Rites or any of the other equally wonderful books.

I do hope you pick up and read some Terry Pratchett this summer. He writes excellent books to take on trips unless, like me, you're the sort who likes to snicker and snort out loud at your reading material. In that case save it for someplace private, because you will be laughing a lot at these books.

Pratchett, Terry. Going Postal

HarperTorch, New York, 2004

Pratchett, Terry. Making Money

Harper, New York, 2007

Textual Relationships

Most days I consider myself pretty lucky to live when and where I do. I've had access to the internet since I was in high school and the electronic web has shaped much of my world view, including how I communicate. I have friends who literally live all over the world and I can talk to them almost instantly. This is a big step up from the penpal I had in second grade who lived in Czechoslovakia and took 2 months to send a letter. The Czechs had cool stamps, but bad mail service.

One of the things that fascinates me about our modern plethora of ways to communicate is how different people are when they use diverse mediums. I have a very good friend who happens to be female. When we are together in a room you won't be able to hear yourself think. We talk, laugh, and provide constant feed-back to each other verbally. We rehash old jokes and stories and tell lies about the size of our craft piles. If you saw us together, you'd know we were friends.

On-line correspondence with her is totally different for me. She moved across the country and the easiest way for us to see each other is on-line but we generally fall to the level of cliches and comments about the weather. Monosyllabic answers to terse questions eventually just fade away to silence. Although I know she's an expert communicator we just don't have much to say to each other. If you looked at just our chat logs you'd think we were estranged relatives forced to sit at the table together on Thanksgiving.

I have another good friend who happens to be male. Our communication pattern is exactly the opposite. When we're in the same room together he may go hours without saying anything. He's very quiet, unless he's drinking, but that only brings him up to the level of smiling and small amounts of chit-chat. Even I sometimes wonder if he's mad at me because he speaks so infrequently, although he's always confused as to why I ask.

On-line he is a completely different person. He interacts both through text and email, and we can spend hours telling stories and creating characters for our role-playing game. While he'll never be mistaken for verbose, it's obvious that he's much more comfortable typing then actually talking to me.

I'm curious about the reasons behind this pair of communication splits. Why is she so much easier to talk to in person? Is it body language? Years of habit because I used to hang out at her house? My own stilted texting skill? Why do I have so much trouble getting him to say three words together to me in person but sometimes have to turn my phone off to get him to stop texting me? Is this a gender-related issue, a social class issue, or just these two different humans I happen to know?

As time goes on I anticipate seeing more electronic interaction in our education and in our businesses. While I'm enjoying the speed of the contact, I do think that we're losing the depth that human contact requires. Most people have heard that " multiple studies show that as much as 50-90% of communication is nonverbal." but I'm not sure we ever bother to see how that impacts the people on the other end of our writing. Possibly video conferencing and similar services will allow clear business accounting, but personal contacts may still be limited to whatever is cheapest and fastest. It's impossible to convey Shakespeare in l33t so I worry that much of the poetry and grace of English is already considered too old fashioned for public use. Sure, you can sort of translate the words, but part of the reason to use those specific terms was the sweep and grandeur of the sound. Grandeur isn't easy to get on a cell phone.

I'm going to continue my informal survey. I'll take little notes in my head when I talk to the same people both on-line and in-person and I'll try to answer my questions for myself. If I find anything earth shattering I'll let you know, but for now I'm going to work on improving all of my textual relationships. There are real people out there on the other end of those internets after all.

Making Music

Back when I was short (before the legs grew in), I wanted more then anything to be able to make music. I knew a guy who could play anything you could name on a guitar and he was pretty good on drums too. I begged my mother for a guitar and lessons. Instead, she figured that piano lessons would be just as good and signed me up to work with the church choir leader every Thursday. It's very hard to play piano in a rock band, but I was informed that all the great musicians started with piano, so I was resigned.

Sadly for my budding rock career, the choir leader hated children and caused enough problems that I never went back after the first four lessons. No piano for me. In later years I picked up the basics of guitar, handbells, recorder, saxophone, and middle eastern drum. None of them stuck for very long.

I've even tried to join multiple choirs. I've had voice lessons and worked in musical theatre for a bit, although the sinus surgeries I've had since then make the voice very unstable. I tend to wander about in the song until I strike up a likely note but it generally ends soon. It's like mining for music in my throat. "Keep digging! We're bound to hit something!"

Because I wanted to *make* music so much, I never really got around to appreciating popular music. I missed out on most of the 80's because I lived in Germany and it was all several months old by the time it got to me anyway, but I never paid much attention to the radio. That changed as I got older, but I've still noticed large blank spots in my musical education. If you're passionate about a particular band, please don't tell me the name of the band, song, or singers. Just sing it or hum it to me. It's the only way I can recognize things.

When I was offered the chance to work for The CAPE radio I was slightly stunned. I mean, here was a crew of talent that successfully created a volunteer group that brought new music and strange people into my headphones every night of the week for years. I had a total fan girl crush on all of the DJs and tuned in every chance I got. I was positive when they heard my high-pitched nasally whine on the air and saw how little music I actually own I'd be given a polite reassignment to the paperwork department, but I had to try.

So far, it's been 7 months and they haven't caught on yet. No one from the station has ever said "Perhaps you could try to talk less on the air?" or commented that the music was too odd. Instead, I've been offered a chance to do voicework, develop blending skills, and actually been called a DJ in public by people I figure should know better. I'm learning new software and spending large sums of money on new music every week. I'm learning to keep an ear out for music give-aways and fresh new bands while budgeting for music downloads. I'm falling in love with music all over again and now I have a chance to share the things I love with other people.

Maybe I'm not making it myself. I certainly am not crafting these notes with my own hands. But I am being allowed to give a gift to all the people I love through basic podcasting pizazz and that's something precious to me.

Here, you can have the words to the song currently stuck in my head. I'll be playing it this weekend at the CAPE Radio Fantasy Faire. I'll be on the air from 7-9pm (CST I think) and the show will be rather bawdy. Enjoy!

Bedlam Boys!

For to see my Tom of Bedlam, 10,000 miles I'd travel
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes, to save her shoes from gravel.

Still I sing bonnie boys, bonnie mad boys,
Bedlam boys are bonnie
For they all go bare and they live by the air,
And they want no drink nor money.

I went down to Satin's kitchen, for to beg me food one morning
There I got souls piping hot, all on the spit a turning.

There I picked up a cauldron, Where boiled 10,000 harlots
Though full of flame I drank the same, to the health of all such varlets.

My staff has murdered giants, my bag a long knife carries
For to cut mince pies from children's thighs, with which to feed the fairies.

Spirits white as lightning, shall on my travels guide me
The moon would quake and the stars would shake, when' ere they espied me.

No gypsy slut nor doxy, shall win my Mad Tom from me
I'll weep all night, the stars I'll fight, the fray will well become me.

It's when next I have murdered, the Man-In-The-Moon to powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll bake, they'll howl no demon louder.

So drink to Tom of Bedlam, he'll fill the seas in barrels
I'll drink it all, all brewed with gall, with Mad Maudlin I will travel.

Chicago-Bound!

In just a few days I'm planning to head up to Chicago. Why would I do such a thing, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.

A few years ago my best friend and her husband moved to Chicago. We packed them into a couple of trucks and a car and drove from Houston to Chicago nice and slow, taking about two days. We still got there before the moving van, but it was a nice trip. We spent the waiting time playing Munchkin-fu. It's a fun game but a day or so of it and it starts to pall. I found out later a friend of mine works for the company.

I adore my Stacy-girl and I'd go up there just to yarn-stalk and drink coffee with her if I had the money. Her husband spins a mean pun and we've all got stories and gossip and knitting to share. But wait, there's more!

Last year in December I auditioned and was accepted to work for an on-line radio station. Basically, a group of players for the video game City of Heros pooled talent and money to create a player-run streaming audio server called The CAPE radio. The "DJ" of the hour logs into the server to provide music and snappy patter during their regular show time and there is a stream-hold of music all night long. We have fan-created ads that make fun of bugs in the game ( El Supernatural Mexicano), praise the developers (Sexy Jay Station ID), and spoof on gamers in general (Dock Workers Need Love Too). We run in-game parties, weddings and events with music picked by the hosts or tailored for the event. We create ads for Super Groups or Villain Groups, the COH universe version of a guild. We've even been known to host and run fairly massive charity drives that have Real World impact and raised a lot of money for several different charities.

Two years ago, the CAPE started to hold meet-ups for DJs and listeners, and anyone else who wanted to join us in Chicago. It's right in the middle of the country and a major hub for a few airlines which makes it fairly cheap to get to. We get everyone together on a Friday night and do Rock Band until our eyes fall out. Then Saturday we go do karaoke at a tiny little bar in a Polish neighborhood. The owner is a sweet woman named Alice who indulges us shamelessly. She brings in food (the bar only serves drinks) and she often will keep the bar open late for us. We hardly disturb the regulars and we all tend to drink quite a bit.The later in the evening it gets the more languages are spoken and even sung in. Then, at 4 am when Alice will no longer indulge us, we tumble out into the wild streets of Chicago to hunt down pancakes and other breakfast foods, stalking the frisky bacon and bringing the coffee pot to its knees drained dry. This is the time that makes for the worst pictures generally. Sunday, we sleep and take in the lazy sights and the fabulous Chicago foods and Monday we all go home.

So Thursday I'll be up at a horribly early time of day to get on a plane and fly to Chicago. For four days I will pretend that nothing actually bad exists in the world. There will be inconvenience, possibly some car stuffing. I might snore in front of people who didn't know I could make a noise like that (or that any human being could). But for a tiny slice of my life I'll be allowed to just be me enjoying myself. It's called vacation and I hear it's good for you.