We spent a big chunk of life only going to visit people we knew when we went on vacation, grandparents, college roommates, that sort of cheap and comfortable vacation where you see your people.
When we started traveling for work reasons, we went a lot of places that hadn't been on the agenda financially or as major destinations. We had some meetings in New Jersey, New York, and other east coast locals so we drove from the midwest. We didn't used to plan for hotels and on these trips a lot of people host us so we were just winging it.
In the middle of New York somewhere far from civilization, we found ourselves too far to go back and too far to go on as the wee hours began to make us sleepy. We finally took the next exit because we saw a sign for the "White Horse Inn." Taking a dark exit far from everything we'd seen for some time, we drove another 10 miles or so into the woods and discovered the White Horse Inn was a pancake - dinner place and they were locking up. We really needed to stop for the night so we asked if there was anything near by, a bed and breakfast perhaps?
An older fellow pointed us to a campground just a few miles down the road (still further into the deep dark woods and away from the highway) and they had a hotel on the grounds. Perfect.
It was dark and late, we could have missed it but somehow saw the turn. No lights or anything, it was one of those old methodist camp ground type things with the little victorian cottages surrounding a main green. (This sort of thing though this is not the one.)
We parked in front of a white clapboard two story hotel, relieved and tired and wondering where we were. We'd passed no towns of any sort.
My significant other checked us in while I stood by the luggage at the bottom of the stairs looking at a painting. Not an experienced artist, but well meaning. I looked at the caption and it said, 'painted by Mary SoandSo in a trance.' Trance? I looked around further and there was a quilt done in a trance.
When my honey came up with the keys, we sort of put some things together he saw at the front desk and what I was seeing and realized we'd just checked into a camp for people who like to talk to dead people. Mediums, spiritualists, and such. Uh oh.
It was so late, we were tired and now paid up so we just went to our room, even though this would not have been a place we would pick out of website to stay. Let's just say it's not our spiritual cup of tea.
It was a lovely old room with wood floors and metal bed. You know how those old eastern board places don't have a/c? Well, this was one of them. We had the lights off in a few minutes since we were beat. My man was gleefully speculating if the curtains were blowing in the summer breeze or ...? I fell asleep. He told some family members who were completely terrified for us that we'd stayed there.
It was a lovely old camp ground but as we drove away each little cottage had a sign for a psychic or a medium or something. It struck me as a vaguely sinister environment with a quaint veneer over the top. A little arsenic and old lace.
Taking a different tact on the same trip later, we stayed in a hotel near the highway that had a hot tub the size of a car in one half of the BEDROOM space. Ick. And when I turned on the TV to porn, we were really skeeved out. I think I slept on top of my scarf. Let's say, this may when we began to realize we needed to plan a little more carefully.
29 March 2016
Weirdest Place Ever Slept ,Part 1, Animal Heads
We aren't always in control of where we stay when we are on a nonprofit fund raising mission which makes for fascinating travel. We drive to an address in a small town or a city and see what we find. We don't mind this at all and are quite grateful for a free bed.
So in one small town in a place far, far away from most places you've heard of and won't be named so as not to hurt feelings, we spent an evening sharing our "work" vision. The people hosting us said over pizza, "The local motel is horrible we wouldn't put our worst enemies there, so we put you in the local bed and breakfast."
At this point, my mind said, oh how wonderful. This will be so nice. It's been ages since we were at a b and b. Must be something quaint in a little town like this. Their next sentence stopped me in my tracks so to speak.
"It used to be the old folks home."
Uh, huh. So off we went three or four blocks in this tiny place to the old folks come cum bed and breakfast. We were giggling all the way. So do you check in but you can never leave?
Turns out bed and breakfast was more of a literal term than a descriptive one. It had become a hunting lodge of sorts as this part of the countryside draws hunters. So the public eating area and living room were covered in the heads of various taxidermy-ified animals.
The "living room" had quite a selection of recliners and just a couple side table lamps. Giving it a dimly lit shadowy atmosphere. A television flickered blue in the corner. Two elderly gentlemen lurked in the recliners in the darkness, along with a lot of animal heads. They didn't look at us or acknowledge our entry.
I whispered, "Do you suppose they were 'grandfathered in'? The last residents?"
My significant other in classic form said, "I don't see anyone."
So a lady, not in uniform, gave us keys and sent us off. The living-eating room space remodel hadn't made it to the rest of the place. It still had railings on the walls so you could make it to your room and shiny squeeky clean linoleum floors. Thankfully no strange odors.
The hospital bed had been replaced by a double bed with quilts and flower sheets. Other than that it was the original room, but spotlessly clean. It had it's own private bath which was terrific and needed. Complete with loads of support bars and seats all over so you wouldn't fall. Not sure I've ever had such a safe shower.
Someone asked later, Weren't you creeped out? Did you think of ghosts?
We really didn't but we laughed and thought up a lot of funny stories to go with our surroundings. It's one of those moments where you know it's going to be a good story even as you're experiencing it!
Message me and I'll see if I can find if it's still in business if you want to go have the experience! Have you ever stayed anywhere unusual?
Odd sleeping arrangements will be a series in the blog for a bit. Enjoy.
So in one small town in a place far, far away from most places you've heard of and won't be named so as not to hurt feelings, we spent an evening sharing our "work" vision. The people hosting us said over pizza, "The local motel is horrible we wouldn't put our worst enemies there, so we put you in the local bed and breakfast."
At this point, my mind said, oh how wonderful. This will be so nice. It's been ages since we were at a b and b. Must be something quaint in a little town like this. Their next sentence stopped me in my tracks so to speak.
"It used to be the old folks home."
Uh, huh. So off we went three or four blocks in this tiny place to the old folks come cum bed and breakfast. We were giggling all the way. So do you check in but you can never leave?
Turns out bed and breakfast was more of a literal term than a descriptive one. It had become a hunting lodge of sorts as this part of the countryside draws hunters. So the public eating area and living room were covered in the heads of various taxidermy-ified animals.
The "living room" had quite a selection of recliners and just a couple side table lamps. Giving it a dimly lit shadowy atmosphere. A television flickered blue in the corner. Two elderly gentlemen lurked in the recliners in the darkness, along with a lot of animal heads. They didn't look at us or acknowledge our entry.
I whispered, "Do you suppose they were 'grandfathered in'? The last residents?"
My significant other in classic form said, "I don't see anyone."
So a lady, not in uniform, gave us keys and sent us off. The living-eating room space remodel hadn't made it to the rest of the place. It still had railings on the walls so you could make it to your room and shiny squeeky clean linoleum floors. Thankfully no strange odors.The hospital bed had been replaced by a double bed with quilts and flower sheets. Other than that it was the original room, but spotlessly clean. It had it's own private bath which was terrific and needed. Complete with loads of support bars and seats all over so you wouldn't fall. Not sure I've ever had such a safe shower.
Someone asked later, Weren't you creeped out? Did you think of ghosts?
We really didn't but we laughed and thought up a lot of funny stories to go with our surroundings. It's one of those moments where you know it's going to be a good story even as you're experiencing it!
Message me and I'll see if I can find if it's still in business if you want to go have the experience! Have you ever stayed anywhere unusual?
Odd sleeping arrangements will be a series in the blog for a bit. Enjoy.
25 March 2016
Weirdest Places Ever Slept - Part 2
We've traveled for both personal and business reasons, profit and nonprofit. I'd say the majority more in the nonprofit lifestyle!
Haunted is easy, right? TV shows and spooks everywhere. We always joke about if Europe had those haunted Ghost shows they'd just walk down any random street with a camera and say ooo, I feel a cold spot since there've been people living, killing and dying in these towns for a long time.
In Hannibal, Missouri, the home of Mark Twain, we went for a Bed and Breakfast weekend. I think I got this free/discount as part of buying five boxes of Stash Tea. We get to this place and this little gruff man informs us he's watching it for the real owners. He's rough around the edges and maybe a little further.
He shows us around the victorian place, very cute, done nicely. Informs us we'll be staying in the seven bedroom mansion alone tonight since he doesn't live in, but he'll be back to make us pancakes in the morning. Turns out he's a former cop and is doing someone a favor.
On the way out, he says you're not afraid of ghosts, right? And he shows us a couple photos with fuzzy blobs in the stair well. We look on in contemplation as we were supposed to do and he said a few folks had encountered it, but we'd be fine.
You gotta know, as a mystery writer, and a guy that likes to watch ghost shows on TV, we were absolutely thrilled. In a haunted Victorian Mansion of our own for the evening! And of course we acted like we were 12. We climbed all over the house looking at everything. In a dark corner where we couldn't find a light switch on the top floor was a door to the attic. Locked!!! Creepy, that's where they keep the ghost, I guess.
We settled down in the library (yes!) watched PBS mystery. Then my significant other much to my delight played Toccata and Fugue in D Minor on a small organ in the parlor(!) on a foot pump organ that of course had a delightfully rough sounds. My friend refers to this song as "Scary Frights" when she wants my man to play it. (Here's a posh version of it if you are curious.)
We slept well despite all the talk of ghosts, but my guy did say he heard things in the night -- maybe for my benefit since I slept like the dead and didn't notice. We explored Hannibal which besides having the haunts of Tom Sawyer-Huck Finn and the real life Twain is a delightful town with it's own oddities and delights to explore and find. You gotta go to the cave too if you go -- I don't remember the story exactly but it's got one of those someone got stuck in here spooky ones.
Haunted is easy, right? TV shows and spooks everywhere. We always joke about if Europe had those haunted Ghost shows they'd just walk down any random street with a camera and say ooo, I feel a cold spot since there've been people living, killing and dying in these towns for a long time.
In Hannibal, Missouri, the home of Mark Twain, we went for a Bed and Breakfast weekend. I think I got this free/discount as part of buying five boxes of Stash Tea. We get to this place and this little gruff man informs us he's watching it for the real owners. He's rough around the edges and maybe a little further.
He shows us around the victorian place, very cute, done nicely. Informs us we'll be staying in the seven bedroom mansion alone tonight since he doesn't live in, but he'll be back to make us pancakes in the morning. Turns out he's a former cop and is doing someone a favor.
On the way out, he says you're not afraid of ghosts, right? And he shows us a couple photos with fuzzy blobs in the stair well. We look on in contemplation as we were supposed to do and he said a few folks had encountered it, but we'd be fine.
You gotta know, as a mystery writer, and a guy that likes to watch ghost shows on TV, we were absolutely thrilled. In a haunted Victorian Mansion of our own for the evening! And of course we acted like we were 12. We climbed all over the house looking at everything. In a dark corner where we couldn't find a light switch on the top floor was a door to the attic. Locked!!! Creepy, that's where they keep the ghost, I guess.
We settled down in the library (yes!) watched PBS mystery. Then my significant other much to my delight played Toccata and Fugue in D Minor on a small organ in the parlor(!) on a foot pump organ that of course had a delightfully rough sounds. My friend refers to this song as "Scary Frights" when she wants my man to play it. (Here's a posh version of it if you are curious.)
We slept well despite all the talk of ghosts, but my guy did say he heard things in the night -- maybe for my benefit since I slept like the dead and didn't notice. We explored Hannibal which besides having the haunts of Tom Sawyer-Huck Finn and the real life Twain is a delightful town with it's own oddities and delights to explore and find. You gotta go to the cave too if you go -- I don't remember the story exactly but it's got one of those someone got stuck in here spooky ones.
06 January 2016
Reads of 2015
I read a variety of genres last year and more audio books. I kept track of library borrows as well as audio. I find it interesting to see my own habits change and evolve with technology. I also read more sort of top books, probably thanks to library access and Audible credits. I felt like I read more, but the list says not so. I did draft a book in writing as well as move house last year, traveled more for work...so my hands weren't idle when they weren't in a book. Favorite reads on your list from 2015?
Books 2015
1. The Hike The Missing Link to Transformational Leadership Copyright © Danise DiStasi Nonfiction business allegory ***
2. Is everyone hanging out without me?, Mindy Kaling, humor memoir, ****, audio
3. El salon de ambar, germany, spain, portugal in Spanish! **** matilde asensi
4. The weed that strings the hangman's bag, UK, post WW II, Alan Bradley, **** audio
5. The Joy Diet, martha Beck,nonfiction, started in 2014;this one is a process not just a book. *****
6. Gone Girl, gillian flynn, Missouri, hard to rate since I knew so much hype. Well written. Didn't like the end which colors your overall feel.
7. For Women only, shaunti feldhahn, nonfiction, paper book, started in 2014
8. Murder in the afternoon, Frances Brody. UK after WW1, **** audio
9. Gung-Ho, leadership story, ****, Ken Blanchard and Sheldon Bowles, audio
10. Cut and Run, carla neggers, holland and new york, *, it was like a rough draft, needed editing, names spelled erratically, repetitive.
11. Amy Pohler, yes, please, autobiography, *** audio, never quite finished even though I liked it.
12. The Antelope in the living room, Melanie Shankle, memoir humor, ***, library
13. The Racketeer, John Grisham, ***, ebook, library
14. Dad is fat, Jim Gaffigan, memoir,*** audio
15. Dying to meet you, Patricia Scott, uk, fiction**
16. Rules of Prey, John Sandford, Minneapolis/St Paul, fiction, ebook, ***
17. The One You Love, Paul Pilkington, London, uk, fiction *** e book
18. The Four Hour Work Week, Tim Ferriss, nonfiction
19. The Husband's Secrets, Liane moriarty, Fiction audio, Australia, ***
20. The shawshank redemption, stephen king, audiobook, rough language ****
21. Dear Theo, Irving Stone and Gene stone, audiobook, letters of Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo ****, this was really long but I enjoyed it. Incredible look inside his life.
22. Walking with God thru pain and suffering, timothy Keller, nonfiction, ***
23. King of Lies, John Hart, North Carolina, audiobook, fast read, ****, library
24. The Kind Worth Killing, Peter Swansen, Boston New England, ebook, library ****
25. Gray Mountain, John Grisham, Appalacian Virginia and DC, NYC, audio, library ***
26. Last Man Standing, David Baldacci, DC virginia, audio book. ***
27. Paranoia, joseph Finder, Seattle? , *** audio
28. Suspect, Robert Crais, LA, ***
29. 80/20 principle, the secret to achieving more with less, richard koLch, nonfiction.****
30. The Girl on the Train, Uk, Paula Hawkins, audio****
31. Beyond Belief: jenna miscaivage hill, scientology, nonfiction ***, audio, very interesting
32. Mr. penumbra's 24 hour bookstore, Robin Sloan, san francisco, audio. ****, present tense.
33. Evelina, historical fiction, UK, Fanny Burney, pub date 1778, ***
34. The Handmaid's Tale, alternate future USAish, top 100 books list, audio, ****
35. Deliver us from Evil, italy, Roberto Constantini, ***.5, didn't love the main character or it could have been 4 stars, plus second half had some typos probably from the translation. Library
36. the Stranger, Harlan Corben, NJ, ****, library ebook
37. the Forgotten Garden, Kate Morton, Australia, Cornwall, mixed time periods, **** audiobook
22 July 2015
Audio books and character clash
My blog readers will recall I mostly read fiction. I have in recent years disciplined myself to read more nonfiction, so I'll often read a nonfiction and a fiction book at the same time. I have almost never read two fiction books at the same time.
My brother last year got me onto audiobooks after a long time of not listening. I don't know why I quit doing audio books. It might have been the move overseas and no free ones hanging around at the library.
So my first audiobook in about 10 years was Steve Martin's Born Standing Up which he reads himself. I think I've listened to 13 audio books in less than a year. Clearly I'm back on the bankwagon. I found a way to check them out from my home library in Overland Park, KS even though I'm in Spain which is a huge boon, but also accidentally signed up for an audible account so you get your "free books" for having an account. This is actually you buying books because you pay for an account. At first I randomly picked things but after a while I realized that I need to get the most financially out of the credits they give you.
I had wanted to read ebook or audio a biographical look at the letters of Van Gogh (a much more intellectual endeavor than normal!) This book in any form was expensive. I realized I could get it with one of my "free credits" and so I went audio. A very good read if you are interested in art, creativity, Vincent or the time period in the art world. Dear Theo by Irving and Gene Stone.
I usually do one audio book which the first few months on this new kick were all autobiograhical or nonfiction mostly. Somehow a couple weeks ago, accidentally, I started a fiction ebook from the library and I started an audio fiction book also from the library at the same time. It was not a conscious decision it just happened. I was struggling figuring out what I wanted to read at the moment. I'd started a book that while well written I had to put down -- the fishing theme was not engaging me.
So both of the new borrowed books were very compelling plots, both had main male protagonists. So I read about 10 chapters of the ebook and then got a massive migraine that drug on for days. I love audio books for this. I can put the volume where it doesn't trouble my head and I can keep my eyes closed. It also distracts me from the pain, so it's a great way to pass a couple hours lying down that aren't going to be sleep anyway. I'd started the audio book while cooking so I was a little ways into it at the same time as the ebook.
I burned thru King of Lies by John Hart on the audiobook quickly because one-it was a compelling good "read" and two-the migraine had me on the floor in front of the portable a/c unit for several evenings in a row. Enjoyed it.
Migraine was gone and the audiobook over, so I went back to the ebook. The Kind Worth Killing, Peter Swanson. A very compelling plot, very. But I found myself attributing the motivations of the main character from the King of Lies audio book to this protagonist. I'd say to myself, "But he won't follow thru because this guy is so paralyzed by life…" and then I'd realize it was the other book I was thinking of.
I'm not sure what it says aout my mind that I interchanged these, but a major plot twist took place in the ebook that has eliminated that little problem. I found it very interesting to see how the audio and ebook mixed with the characters in my mind. I imagine it won't stop me listening and reading willy-nilly but I might think twice next time or chose wildly different themes.
25 March 2015
Culture Choque
Most the time living in Europe is a great. It's not being on vacation every day but you have random moments that are delightful or have a wow-factor because it's just not the place you grew up.
But there are moments where you lose your sanity -- because this is not a vacation. It is life and things have to happen and get done.
Recent moments of culture shock:
Frankfurt airport being so intense about following the rules, they couldn't help me make my flight even though my name was being called on the speakers. (Yes, I missed my flight)
A hotel toilet mounted so high on the wall in Holland, I could not touch the floor. You laugh, but it's not funny in the middle of the night. Okay, maybe it is funny.
Only coins can be used to do the on street parking in the center of my city here in Spain. There's a credit card area on the machine but no slot actually set up. No coins, no parking, no one cares if you are in a hurry. Thus, everyone double parks with their flashers. Being a good Midwesterner, I have avoided it, but it is in serious consideration now.
It's okay to tell a customer that it will be ready Tuesday afternoon. Customer fights aforementioned parking situation, gives up goes to parking garage much further away, walks to shop only to discover the items aren't ready after all. This is okay and should not be cause for complaint.
Health analysis includes urinalysis. The urine must be collected first thing in the morning, not later in the day. You must go to a farmacia (not the place that takes the blood or the urine) and buy a special cup yourself. Should you arrive past 10 am, the cup cannot be delivered and you must go to the pharmacy and purchase another and try to arrive by 10 am again (despite the parking situation in the area). Please note, I did not pour the rejected urine on the front step though I was very frustrated. I go to this clinic to avoid the one where they took blood from my neck, but that's another story.
This is just the last few weeks. Most the time you take it in stride and shrug but every once in awhile it all stacks up just right and you lose your mind. I suppose it's like arriving at Disneyland and seeing the lines and price of the food after saving all year. It may be fun at times, but there's some major obstacles that you will not be able to avoid dealing with. You are going to pay.
But there are moments where you lose your sanity -- because this is not a vacation. It is life and things have to happen and get done.
Recent moments of culture shock:
Frankfurt airport being so intense about following the rules, they couldn't help me make my flight even though my name was being called on the speakers. (Yes, I missed my flight)
A hotel toilet mounted so high on the wall in Holland, I could not touch the floor. You laugh, but it's not funny in the middle of the night. Okay, maybe it is funny.
Only coins can be used to do the on street parking in the center of my city here in Spain. There's a credit card area on the machine but no slot actually set up. No coins, no parking, no one cares if you are in a hurry. Thus, everyone double parks with their flashers. Being a good Midwesterner, I have avoided it, but it is in serious consideration now.
It's okay to tell a customer that it will be ready Tuesday afternoon. Customer fights aforementioned parking situation, gives up goes to parking garage much further away, walks to shop only to discover the items aren't ready after all. This is okay and should not be cause for complaint.
Health analysis includes urinalysis. The urine must be collected first thing in the morning, not later in the day. You must go to a farmacia (not the place that takes the blood or the urine) and buy a special cup yourself. Should you arrive past 10 am, the cup cannot be delivered and you must go to the pharmacy and purchase another and try to arrive by 10 am again (despite the parking situation in the area). Please note, I did not pour the rejected urine on the front step though I was very frustrated. I go to this clinic to avoid the one where they took blood from my neck, but that's another story.
This is just the last few weeks. Most the time you take it in stride and shrug but every once in awhile it all stacks up just right and you lose your mind. I suppose it's like arriving at Disneyland and seeing the lines and price of the food after saving all year. It may be fun at times, but there's some major obstacles that you will not be able to avoid dealing with. You are going to pay.
26 February 2015
Admiring the art and not the artist
We go to museums. It's one of the primary things travel guides talk to us about seeing when we visit other places. We went to a special art exposition in Madrid and it really juiced up my creativity, but it got me thinking about art and artists.
Museums are a major tourist attraction, right? A suave night out? How about an art gallery premier or a special art show? We laud art but mostly we laud old art.
I've been plagued with some writer's block on my work-in-progress novel due to some kinks in the plot twists, so I was contemplating the challenge of being and artist and working in obscurity.
No one cheers you on when you drag yourself daily to a blank canvas or a blank page. Reviewers often don't give you any attaboys even after the work is done.
In fact, people sometimes see you as eccentric, odd, a dreamer or maybe creative if they're being generous. No one thinks of you as rich. Mostly because you're not. No one thinks of you as a potential gold mine. Mostly because chances are you're not going to be.
As a young person who wanted to write novels, I had the implied and sometimes direct comment/advice, "Yes, but what will you DO? How will you make money?" Sadly, it has been true that I needed another profession besides novel writing to make a living. Fortunately, it has always related to writing and I've enjoyed it.
The truth is that no one looks at a young person who says they want to be a poet, an artist, or a writer and simply says, good. Not even me, truth be told. I'm full of personal advice like everyone.
Society is full of a je ne sais quoi regarding artists - not the art itself. A faint disdain of the wholehearted pursuit of an artistic endeavor as a life exists. The implication is, "It's okay for a hobby but you know you have to have a real job."
Likely the real job is true, but does anyone decide to study business and the people respond, "Just don't try to go into business yourself, that's unrealistic and statistically likely to fail."
So on the one hand, people are encouraged to go to museums and art shows by society, but the not spoken reality is that we don't really respect the artists that might be the next Van Gogh or Andy Warhol in the making. I hope it's changing but I'm not sure.
In the late 1800s, the new art movement was happening that was derided by the press and the creators were mostly paupers: impressionism, my favorite. Then later cubists etc. etc. It just doesn't pay (pun intended) to be an artist. Emotionally or financially. Most those artists who go on to be featured in museums seem to have died in poverty and sometimes obscurity.
It just struck me recently as fascinating why we both worship at the museums of art and look down on the present day artists or scoff at their efforts despite what history tells us on the walls of the famous museums today. Am I wrong?
Museums are a major tourist attraction, right? A suave night out? How about an art gallery premier or a special art show? We laud art but mostly we laud old art.
I've been plagued with some writer's block on my work-in-progress novel due to some kinks in the plot twists, so I was contemplating the challenge of being and artist and working in obscurity.
No one cheers you on when you drag yourself daily to a blank canvas or a blank page. Reviewers often don't give you any attaboys even after the work is done.
In fact, people sometimes see you as eccentric, odd, a dreamer or maybe creative if they're being generous. No one thinks of you as rich. Mostly because you're not. No one thinks of you as a potential gold mine. Mostly because chances are you're not going to be.
As a young person who wanted to write novels, I had the implied and sometimes direct comment/advice, "Yes, but what will you DO? How will you make money?" Sadly, it has been true that I needed another profession besides novel writing to make a living. Fortunately, it has always related to writing and I've enjoyed it.
The truth is that no one looks at a young person who says they want to be a poet, an artist, or a writer and simply says, good. Not even me, truth be told. I'm full of personal advice like everyone.
Society is full of a je ne sais quoi regarding artists - not the art itself. A faint disdain of the wholehearted pursuit of an artistic endeavor as a life exists. The implication is, "It's okay for a hobby but you know you have to have a real job."
Likely the real job is true, but does anyone decide to study business and the people respond, "Just don't try to go into business yourself, that's unrealistic and statistically likely to fail."
So on the one hand, people are encouraged to go to museums and art shows by society, but the not spoken reality is that we don't really respect the artists that might be the next Van Gogh or Andy Warhol in the making. I hope it's changing but I'm not sure.
In the late 1800s, the new art movement was happening that was derided by the press and the creators were mostly paupers: impressionism, my favorite. Then later cubists etc. etc. It just doesn't pay (pun intended) to be an artist. Emotionally or financially. Most those artists who go on to be featured in museums seem to have died in poverty and sometimes obscurity.
It just struck me recently as fascinating why we both worship at the museums of art and look down on the present day artists or scoff at their efforts despite what history tells us on the walls of the famous museums today. Am I wrong?
28 January 2015
Hot tea and other blunders
I realized today I make a consistently American request. I've lived in Europe for the better part of 10 years on and off. My significant other and I joke about being Euro trash but really we are contented expats who still like "Home" too.
But while I know I shouldn't care, I pride myself on often blending in. I like to eat like the locals and go places like locals etc. So how after so many years did I realize I keep ordering incorrectly on airplanes?
I ask for hot tea. Every time. Now, my US compatriots are possibly saying, "Yeah, so?" While my British friends are laughing at me.
In the US, we have lovely BREWED ice tea. (I am an admitted tea-sob.) This is real tea (nothing powdered please) brewed mostly hot, but there are new cold brews, then it's served on ice. In the south this comes with a bucket of sugar in it. I don't like my tea sweet though. So in the US, it's not uncommon to hear an order like, "I'll have an sweet ice tea."
I am a habitual daily hot tea drinker because I like it and I don't drink coffee. So I must specify what I want. I realized in Europe there is only (where I frequent) tea that is hot, no need to specify. There is a product in a can called "Nestea" and it is dreadful and bears no resemblance to tea in my snobby opinion, but there are lots of people who love it. It is very sweet but it still does not taste like USA southern sweet tea.
All of that to realize that I always say "hot tea" and that always marks me as -- not from around here. I don't care necessarily but to suddenly notice after so many years is interesting, like discovering a birthmark you didn't know about.
Now that I think about it, I was at a conference and I remember one of my British friends sort of mocking my "hot tea" request with a raised questioning eyebrow. I loftily pointed out the US custom of icing it.
I think the same friend felt my using hot water from the faucet (the tap!) to fill my water bottle in hotels was also a faux paus of social norms.
Clearly I will always carry my uncouthness with me as I drink my hot tea and snuggle my mediocrelly warm water bottle, but I'm having fun and trying not to be cold. Next flight I will try with all my might to order. Tea. Just tea and see what happens.
15 January 2015
Discipline versus Desire
As a writer, I wrestle with these two ideas. A lot. I suppose everyone does in some aspect of their lives. It's like a constant catch-22 of wanting something but not wanting to do it. I hear running may be like that too but I wouldn't know. (snicker)
It's a constant ebb and flow. Things have to get done in life, right? Doctor's visits, groceries. So those are things you just do because you do, because you have to for living normally. Sometimes you do the normal things without really thinking about it and other times, you drag yourself kicking and screaming. Maybe you desire to eat so your discipline yourself to go to the grocery store.
With writing, I desire to tell a story. The stories just aren't as much fun roaming around in my head as when other people get to share in them. Stories are for sharing even though I immensely enjoy creating them in my head. So yes, I desire to get another book out to keep the inkling of writing career moving forward despite my day job.
But the application of the seat of the pant to the chair in order to type in a computer is another matter altogether. It is a discipline by all definitions. One must practice to improve and make progress! If I can muster the discipline to do it, I nearly always enjoy myself. I become lost in the story like I'm watching a movie.
Sometimes you hit a snag in the story and that makes it slower. Sitting and picking at it is the only way for me to unravel. This usually looks like me sitting at the computer scrolling, reading, and staring off into space.
I have seasons where I get in a grove and I walk in the house and sit down and write without thinking. Like some of those grocery runs that just occur without pain. But other times I like the idea of sitting to write but I don't get there without huge disciplinary effort of myself. I don't think books can get written on desire alone. I think all of them, if they are going to be good or decent, are going to require seasons of serious sitting, hammering, and red ink days.
It's the marriage of discipline and desire where things get produced out of love. There's another intersection where things get produced a lot too -- that is where discipline and the need to eat meet and we go to work for ourselves or someone else. Sometimes writing is in both those places.
One trick I use on myself when I'm resisting the big project, like I am now, is I promise myself just one hour. Only sit here for one hour and work on this, the promise goes, then you'll feel productive and get to do something else too. It works remarkably well for me. If you only do it one hour at a time though, you've got to do it regularly. Of course, the writing recommendation is to write every day. Sometime my life is like that and sometimes it isn't.
I heard a phrase and it's so true. I LOVE having written!
It's a constant ebb and flow. Things have to get done in life, right? Doctor's visits, groceries. So those are things you just do because you do, because you have to for living normally. Sometimes you do the normal things without really thinking about it and other times, you drag yourself kicking and screaming. Maybe you desire to eat so your discipline yourself to go to the grocery store.
With writing, I desire to tell a story. The stories just aren't as much fun roaming around in my head as when other people get to share in them. Stories are for sharing even though I immensely enjoy creating them in my head. So yes, I desire to get another book out to keep the inkling of writing career moving forward despite my day job.
But the application of the seat of the pant to the chair in order to type in a computer is another matter altogether. It is a discipline by all definitions. One must practice to improve and make progress! If I can muster the discipline to do it, I nearly always enjoy myself. I become lost in the story like I'm watching a movie.
Sometimes you hit a snag in the story and that makes it slower. Sitting and picking at it is the only way for me to unravel. This usually looks like me sitting at the computer scrolling, reading, and staring off into space.
I have seasons where I get in a grove and I walk in the house and sit down and write without thinking. Like some of those grocery runs that just occur without pain. But other times I like the idea of sitting to write but I don't get there without huge disciplinary effort of myself. I don't think books can get written on desire alone. I think all of them, if they are going to be good or decent, are going to require seasons of serious sitting, hammering, and red ink days.
It's the marriage of discipline and desire where things get produced out of love. There's another intersection where things get produced a lot too -- that is where discipline and the need to eat meet and we go to work for ourselves or someone else. Sometimes writing is in both those places.
One trick I use on myself when I'm resisting the big project, like I am now, is I promise myself just one hour. Only sit here for one hour and work on this, the promise goes, then you'll feel productive and get to do something else too. It works remarkably well for me. If you only do it one hour at a time though, you've got to do it regularly. Of course, the writing recommendation is to write every day. Sometime my life is like that and sometimes it isn't.
I heard a phrase and it's so true. I LOVE having written!
13 January 2015
Books read in 2014
Again, I didn't read as much as I'd like, nor write as much as I wish this last year. I did re-engage with audio books thanks to my brother's recommendation of Steve Martin's memoir. I also read more nonfiction than usual which you may recall is not my favorite and often slows me down. That being said, The Gift of Fear was fascinating and I wish I could articulate even a smidge of Fast Thinking Slow Thinking. Perhaps you too will find something new to try.
1. Six Years, harlan corben, New England, ****
2. Gift of Fear, gavin de becker, nonfiction ****
3. The torah codes, ezra barany, N ca and israel, **
4. A Duty to the Dead, Charles Todd, WWI, ****
5. Board Member Orientation, the concise guide, Michael Batts, nonfiction
5. Board Member Orientation, the concise guide, Michael Batts, nonfiction
6. Unbroken, Laura Hillenbrand, **** nonfiction WWII
7. Maltese Falcon, dashiel hammett, 1950s CA, ****
8. Every Secret Thing, Laura Lippman, Baltimore, ***
9. The Attack, Yasmina Khandra, Israel, Palestine, **
10. Chasing the Storm, Martin Molsted, Germany, greece, Russia, Cyprus ****
11. Be mine, Rick Mofina, **, san Francisco
12. Paradise of thieves' gk chesterton, italy, short story
13. Pillars of the Earth, Ken Follett, medieval UK***
14. Wings, Juliet Kincaid, fairytale mystery (beta read) ****
15. Where'd you go, Bernadette, Marie Semple, Seattle ****
16. Born standing up, Steve Martin, autobiog, ****
17. Gilead, Marilynne Robinson, Kansas and Iowa 1950ish, ****, not mystery, Pulitzer Prize winner 2005
18. A test of Wills, Charles Todd, after WW I in UK, ****
19. Bossypants, Tina Fey, biography,***
20. A Butterfly Forest, Tom Lowe, Florida Ocala FoRest **
21. Shawshank Redemption, Stephen King, novella, *****
22. I feel bad about my neck, Nora Ephron, memoir, ****
23. Private, James Patterson & Maxine Paetro, LA/CA, ***
24. Thinking Fast, Thinking Slow, Daniel Kahneman, Psychology
25. Healing thru Humor, Joke book, Charles Hunter
26. Let's Pretend This Never Happened, a mostly true memoir, Jenny Lawson, **** hilarious but rough. Don't read this with your mom, unless she swears a lot.
27. Monkeewrench, PJ Tracy, st. paul, mn, ***
28. In the bleak midwinter, Julia spencer-Fleming, upper NY small town, ****
29. Hurt people hurt people, Sandra Wilson, psychology nonfiction ***
30. Citizen insane, Karen Cantwell, USA, ***.5
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