On not-deadness

I'm not dead.


But I am starting to wonder if I'm becoming a zombie.

I came back here hunting for an old post I remembered writing when I was working on my master's thesis, describing how I really didn't want to write it.


Now I really don't want to write my dissertation.


Just the thought of it makes me drag my feet and make splooshy grumbling noises like a zombie craving brains, only, instead of wanting brains I now wonder if I shouldn't want a little less of them. See, I've reached the conclusion that writing a doctoral dissertation doesn't necessarily require an abundance of brains - in fact - the less brains, (almost) the better. More brains just allow for more distracting thoughts and stray arguments you'll never be able to defend properly anyway. Less brains might solve that problem.


If zombieism doesn't kick in soon, I might consider a brief lobotomy (yes. I do realize lobotomies tend to be rather permanent and that there really is nothing "brief" about them. But I don't want to end up all vegetable either, just slightly zombie-ish, enough for me to be abel to release my "just do it"-juices much the same way I imagine new zombies do when they first encounter the lovely dish of human brains. Hence, "brief").

Also, yesterday I bought a zombie bowling set, just to fully prepare me for the apocalypse ahead (or, should I say "behead"? Hurr hurr).


So, undead, then. That's the new plan.

On audio input

I've developed a new habit/addiction.

I used to listen to Spotify on my way to and from work, but as much as I love music, it would eventually get boring as music frequently works more as a way of shutting out the world than to entertain or otherwise engage me. I've tried reading - while listening to music, even - but it doesn't really work (and the music or lack thereof has nothing to do with it). If I take the bus I will get travel sick from looking down too much, and if I'm on the subway it's frequently so crowded that it is difficult to find a seat, and reading standing up isn't really my thing.

However, a while back a friend told me about "Serial". The podcast. As I'm sure everyone in the entire world has heard of it by now I won't go into details, but if there are anyone left out there who hasn't listened to "Serial" I think they should. Go find it online. It's free. Listen. Get hooked.

Anyway, "Serial" is over (or at least the first season), and I needed more. With little over half an hour travel time each direction, I need more than an hour per day to fill my needs. Hence, I would need a lot of podcasts. I've tried several, and while others such as "This American Life" or "Radiolab" are good, they don't hook me the way "Serial" did, and with all of them there is a quantity problem. I need more. (I really do sound like an addict...)

Thus, I discovered audiobooks. First, I got a free trial one from Audible (which turned out to be "free", as they automatically connected that to my Amazon account, took my credit card details from there and proceeded to charge me monthly without me being aware that I had signed up for any kind of membership... Bastards!). After that, I moved onto an app called "Storytel" [sic - not a typo - one L only].

Storytel doesn't have the greatest catalogue, but for now I am satisfied. I've been through quite a lot of memoirs, which are made infinitely better when the person having written them also is the one reading (so far, I've listened to Lena Dunham, Stephen Fry, Kaitlin Moran and more). Love that! I wish I could find such audiobooks from the politicians I am writing my dissertation on. Would be so interesting (I did buy another book from Amazon, since they had already charged me I might as well make use of my "credit" - but I'm not sure Jimmy Carter reading about something other than the topic I am researching will have the same effect, and at any rate there is no hope to find anything from Nixon or Ford, and I don't think Kissinger is the greatest audio performer - though he is unmatched when it comes to the written word).

I like thematically appropriate listens, so when I was meadering around on a U.S. university campus (specifically University of Michigan in Ann Arbor) this spring, I listened to Stoner by John Williams. The world of academia is more than a mere setting in this novel; it's almost a character of its own. Thus my circumstance made an already interesting book even more captivating, though I am sure I must have looked odd to the people around me - walking around with my ear plugs staring at campus buildings as though I saw them in 1915 rather than 2015.

When I came home I went back to podcasts for a while, having discovered Neil deGrasse Tyson's "Star Talk", where he enter into discussion about topics reaching far beyond the extent of his field of study (which is saying something, seeing as he basically is studying the universe...). Funny and interesting. After having gone through the entire backlog of this podcast, however, I went back to audiobooks. 

This time I've finally settled for something that will keep my addiction covered for a while. After the season finale of "Game of Thrones" a few weeks back I realized I craved more. Thus far I'd been staying far away from the books, or rather, I started reading them, but they did not appeal to me, This was way back when the first season aired, and the show was following the book closely enough for me to feel it redundant to read them. In addition, the books felt "wordy" to me, which is weird, because I normally really look big, fat, wordy books. 

Anyway. Now everything is different. First of all, it's been four years since I saw that first season. Even if the first book is following it closely, it doesn't matter, as I've forgotten a lot. A lot. 

Secondly, it's almost an advantage that the books are wordy. It means they last longer, and seeing as I listen to them during my commute where constant distractions might interfere, it isn't so problematic if I miss a detail here or there. 

Finally, I really like the guy who is reading (which is a BIG deal for audiobooks). He even does different voices, which I adore. I could listen to him forever (a good thing, seeing as each book is about 30 hours,,,) 

Yeah, that's right. Each book is about 30 hours. And there are five of them (with two more in the making, but as everyone knows by now the release dates of those are anyone's guess). 

I'm already halfway into book number two, though, so I'm wolfing them down a little faster than I'd planned. Somehow, my commute time tends to stretch out these days... The way it looks, I'll be hunting for more sustenance to feed my addiction come autumn. (Insert mandatory "Winter is coming") 

Any suggestions? 

On Good and Bad Bosses

Being a PhD student (especially in Norway, where it is paid employment) is in many ways a sweet deal. You get to spend time working on exactly the thing you're (supposed to be) most interested in. You get to have a narrow focus on a topic so specific (and often insignificant) that most people know next to nothing about it. You get to become an expert on this topic. You get to devote time, energy, intellectual capacity and whatever skills you've developed over time on working on just one, single issue that need not be of any particular interest or use to anyone else (though naturally you have learnt how to argue that indeed it is of particular interest and use to everyone else - you've gotten some kind of funding for this project, after all...). You get to do all this for a longer period of time, usually about three to four years, and in the meantime very few people are going to bother you in any significant way with meeting deadlines, making progress or doing any of the most basic things most employees are expected to do in their jobs: show up at a specific time, show up at all, actually work...

Of course this latter point isn't entirely true.

First of all, most universities will by now have instated some kind of checks and balances system to keep a little control of their PhD students. It will still vary greatly from institution to institution how rigid this system is, but I would guesstimate that you nowhere anymore can do what seems to have been the "norm" many places in the past - you show up at the start of your doctorate and then nobody sees you again for four (or more) years until you show up again for your defense with a 1000 page dissertation.

These days there are some requirements. You have to take some courses (here I know Norway is still on the lighter side. In many places it still is more than justified to call the PhD students students, as they do plenty of course work and have papers due and everything - our system is more flexible and it can be argued that it is just as correct to call me and my peers PhD fellows). You generally will have some deadlines along the way (we, for instance, have a halfway evaluation, which I will take sometime this summer or autumn). And technically I am supposed to show up for work during work hours at any time I don't have a justifiable reason not to do so (a conference, field work, those courses I talked about), but in reality I am fairly sure I could stay at home for several weeks at end and no one would notice (except my office mate, but she wouldn't tell on me, and a simple Facebook message saying "Working from home for a while" would put her at ease). And even if they did notice, it wouldn't have any consequences.*

Many of the requirements, then, are more for show than actually breathing down your neck like the proverbial distrusting boss would do.

However, I do have one of those bosses as well. The problem is that she is not always a good boss. And before you jump to conclusions about me slandering my boss in social media, I should clarify: I'm talking about myself. (My real boss is a man, so there.)

My Bad Boss - me - isn't always a bad boss. The not bad part is what makes her a boss at all. Because in a system where so little pressure is put on you for any day-to-day production (but HUGE pressure on the long haul production with the far-ahead deadline way out of your sight), you really need to pull yourself together and force yourself to do some work every now and then. You need to be your own boss. You need to tell yourself what your tasks are, and then you need to do them. Otherwise, you've already lost.

On occasion this works for me. I can have whole days and several days in a row, even, where I work like a normal person (one of those with real bosses), and get stuff done. My Good Boss manages to give me clear instructions and as a Good Employee (because I am, honestly, even if this post so far might suggest otherwise) I get it done.

This is improvement on my part.

I remember when I wrote my master's thesis I was absolutely horrid at getting stuff done. Every word came at an insufferable price - it felt like I had to pull them out of me like fingernails from a torture victim (you're welcome for that mental picture).

This is because then I only** had the Bad Boss. The Bad Boss still comes around too frequently for me to be particularly happy about it, though. The Bad Boss doesn't motivate me or give me instructions; the Bad Boss tells me that the final deadline is coming closer with every day (well, duh!). She tells me that I have a come nearly halfway in my PhD, but I have not produced half of the text for a PhD dissertation (and my objections that I have done plenty of other useful stuff that doesn't necessarily reflect the amount of output you can touch and feel but nevertheless contributes to the end result have no traction with her). My Bad Boss makes me feel insecure, worried, and generally pretty useless.

My Bad Boss most frequently visits when I am tired, hungry, stressed out, or that one week of the month where most women feel more insecure, worried and useless (if you're a man and you've no idea what I'm talking about, I envy you and I'm about to punch you in the face. Go away. Bring me chocolate before coming back).

Most annoying of all - my Bad Boss makes me a Bad Employee. And as I mentioned, I am not really a Bad Employee. I am a Good Employee. Whenever Good Boss is around it's pretty visible too, so you don't even have to take my word for it.

So. Like a terrible academic*** I have arrived at the problem far too long into the text I'm writing. In order for me to be a Good and Productive Employee, I need my Good Boss to speak louder and more frequently than my Bad Boss. But how do I do this?

Like an even more terrible academic I was very close to ending my text with a question. Because a question, at this point, is about as good as I can do. I don't really have an answer. I can't predict when the Bad Boss will show up, or how long she intend to stay (though I can of course try to avoid the situations I know she is most likely to appear, but even so - it's not like I can avoid work one week every month, no matter how relaxed the system might seem).

My best bet is on the realization that I have a Bad Boss, and that I have a Good Boss. I know there are two of them. So for the times when it feels like only the Bad Boss is the one showing her ugly face, I can try to tell myself that she will not linger forever. The Good Boss will show up eventually. In fact, if I manage to ignore the Bad Boss she sometimes tires of pestering me, and goes away all on her own. Sometimes, sometimes, even the Good Boss pops her head in directly after, just to check on me.****

So it boils down to this: I need to get rid of my Bad Boss but I should probably also be aware that she will never disappear completely, but rather keep in mind she will also never stay put for good.



҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉



*For the record, I also have a supervisor, and she is very active, and she probably would notice both my absence for longer stretches of time and definitely my failure to meet deadlines and produce text. So in my case the potential slacking off has a very real limit. But not every supervisor is as active or attentive, so it is not entirely impossible that you would find cases where not even he or she would know if the PhD student had stopped working altogether for a loooong while.

** This is a truth that needs some moderation. I did write the damn thesis, and it's not all bad, so at some point the Good Boss must have been around then as well. But it didn't feel like it - I suspect maybe the Good Boss simply was a deputy back then, and thus did not really dare to challenge the authority of the Bad Boss. At least that is my theory. I am glad that the Good Boss' career has taken an upward turn!

*** For some reason I really want to write "academidian" instead. But then my Bad Boss told me I could not justify a title clearly derived from a crossover between academic and comedian. As I am neither (can you see what this hag is doing to me? I need her to GO AWAY!!! And not come back - not even with chocolate).

**** Sometimes she brings chocolate! :)

On words I have yet to decide the meaning of

I have invented the following words, but have not yet decided what they should mean. Screw etymology (even though, or perhaps just because, I love it). Suggestions are welcome.



Ksnø (alternative spelling for the less Scandi-inclined: Ksneu. The k is not silent).

Yuips (best uttered when slightly tipsy, so the meaning should probably be related).

Geddlelog.

Pouiyrtre (not to be confused with Poiuytre).

Whhsnosis (thinking this might be something for the medical communtiy?).

Fogbliggerfoullervat (most likely a rather literal translation of something German).




Thank you for your attention.

(For the record, I did not invent these last 23 words. Nor the first 29 of this post.)

On songs you should be listening to now

On stuffophilia

So, it's one of those days...

Zombie White (and no Huntsman)

I *really* want these origami speakers. In addition to being awesome in the capacity of being ORIGAMI SPEAKERS (!), they also sound pretty cool sound-wise. Want.

(Also, from this fabulously awesome site I might be addicted to now ((designfetish.org)), it is worth checking out the posts about people as pixels, the Pixar minimalistic poster series, and not to mention Zombie Attack Barbie. Once she's through with Ken, she can have a go at Snow White...) 

I don't really believe the following really happened, but that's sort of the point, isn't it...

(I wish it were true, though. Bill Murray FTW)

I have inherited from my grandfather a clock (of the mantel variety) that require a deposit of 1 krone (though unfortunately not the currently used version) per week to power it, like a savings arrangement. I don't have a picture or link, but I felt the mentioning of it belonged in this post.

*snort*

I know someone whose potential wedding cake should look like this, but I am not going to tell him because I don't want him to think I am making suggestions... (You know who you are and if you are reading this: I am not. Making suggestions. I am reading it. After having written it. Checking for typoes. Probably missing a few.)

Also, I looked up "who's" versus "whose" for the umpteenth time. And now I looked up umpteenth... Gah. 



Aaaaand one more posting from designfetish(I think I might have one, yes).org:

It's a GUMMY BEAR DRESS!!! OMD - could I pull it off? Probably not, but I could eat it off! Ha! I made a funny! 

And now I need to get off the internet, or at the very least go back to Facebook lurking. Laters, taters!

On F****** Fridays

Got up too early AND too late at the same time.

It's raining.

Struggled to find the flow in the papers I had to read this morning.

Continued to struggle all day.

Spent too much money. On stuff. And food. And stuff.

Stupid papers!

Why am I freezing? My feet are icicles (as usual).

Now I'm sleepy. Wish it was a "real" Friday. One where I didn't have to work most of the night.

Bit of a stomach ache.

Cold.

Sleepy.

Want something and don't want it at the same time. Like chocolate.

Definitely don't want to read papers. But if I don't - I'll have to gobble up too many of them the upcoming week instead.

Sigh.

Next Friday will be better!

On Botswana

This post has nothing to do with Botswana.

I just needed a title. A working title, if you will. But if you won't, you'd be more correct, because it has effectively ceased to be a working title now that I've commented on it. Otherwise the comment wouldn't make sense. And then I'd have to change the introduction to this post. I'd be a working post.

I won't change the introduction or title of this post. Even though it has exceptionally little to do with Botswana.

It has exceptionally little to do with most things, actually. Though, "actually", it's not that hard to not discuss most things. Even if I were to discuss coffee filters, telephones, snow, sunsets, polka-dot dresses, cartoons, albatrosses, fiddlers, mid-century furniture, lollipops and single-cell animals - which I am not - the things-packed post I'd have written would still not discuss "most things". All the above mentioned things are, after all, a minority when it comes to things in general. All the things. This wasn't even a sizeable sample.

A post that has nothing to do with Botswana or most things.

It also has nothing to do with Lionel Richie. (Well, I suppose now it sort of does...)

I can see the postman. But the non-Botswana post also has nothing to do with that. Maybe I should write a post-post sometime? And then the day thereafter I can write a post post-post. Ha. Sometimes I'm too funny for my own good...

I am too [insert multiple adjectives] for my own good, actually. My mind is everywhere else than where it should be. Or... "Should" should be a matter of definition. One should have one's mind where I have mine right now, occasionally. (That sounded naughty. It isn't. Not really. The answer to the question I'm sure y'all are desperate to ask - "where??" - is not "the gutter". For once.) But one should perhaps not have one's mind there when one is trying to work. Or write posts that are or are not about Botswana.

Work. Concentration. Reading. Thinking. Planning. Planning... Hoping? Dreaming? Wanting?



Sheep.



Cookie.



Actually, here's a Botswana-related thing (out of all the things) after all. I learned yesterday that Botswana has a remarkably well-functioning economy, with the highest growth rate in the world. There. Title justified.

On keeping it together

First of all. Don't read damnyouautocorrect.com at work. Even if you're in your own office, behind a closed door. You *will* laugh loud enough for your collegues to suspect that you are not grading papers. Also, grading papers rarely make me tear up (yet).

Secondly - the weather. Yeah, that's right. I'm putting on my old man pants for a minute. Let's dicuss the weather. We're having snow. And then not snow. And then snow. And then ice. And melty-hell. And wet shoes, slippery, dangerous ice-melty-hell. And then snow again. Right now, the view from my window is not-so-bad:

(Not-so-great either, but that is mainly due to a) poor picture quality since my phone is ancient; and b) it's not that spectacular a view. That's reserved for the people on the 11th floor.)

Anyway. Today it was slippery-hell when I left the house, it was raining by the time I changed trains, and when I got to the office I was soaked. 30 minutes later it was snowing like mad. Hence the Winter Wonderland-ish-ness above.

Speaking of....

I kinda love this. (And my old man pants are off again!)

(Pants should, generally be off. At least this is what the Michigan contingent of my shrinks tell me)

(I haven't asked the rest of the world. Yet.)

I'm stressing, A LOT, lately. With everything. Life. Living situation. Work. More work. Christmas shopping. Finding the right kind of music for the holiday mood to tick in...

(This helps, a little)




Basically, it's all about keeping it together, right? Not letting the stress get to you. One day at the time, or, even, one breath at the time. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I will try, at least.

On everything else than what I want to not write about

Not that I want to write about anything in particular. Or not write about anything in particular, for that matter. I acknowledge that the title of this post is more than a little confusing. But then again, that's what you've come to love about this blog, isn't it? I strive to confuse. Or digress. Or something or other to do with giraffes.

Anyway. I'm not really writing this. I'm pressing my fingers against the keyboard in hope that they will produce words in seemingly coherent order, preferable in a sentence-based structure. If I'm lucky I might produce the complete works of Shakespeare. Or maybe some monkey next to me will. Not that it matters - as far as I'm aware those are already published, so it is hardly that much benefit to writing them again. You can probably download the Kindle edition for free, so it's not even worth the time.

Instead, then, a blog post. About nothing. Nothing is the deal. I could tell you about job applications - and what an expert I'm becoming in filling out online resume forms - but it would bore you. It already bores me. I could tell you about how it's nice to have "vacation" (but it's not when said "vacation" really is "between jobs"), or about how I'm not as disillusioned about finding a job as I sound (I just really hate online forms). I am fairly optimistic, still. I've had a few interviews. I find listings where I am qualified. I'm becoming a self-proclaimed expert on mixing up a quick application. (I told you it would bore you.)

But still. It's not the best of situations. I want to be in Oslo. It's nice of my parents to house me, and feed me, and provide my every need. But still. I want to be in Oslo (déja vu much?). And I want to work, now. I want to be useful, now. I want to see my friends, visit my regular hang-outs. I want to have an apartment in Oslo. Now.

Waiting - I'm not at my best game. I tend to forget to live in the moment when I wait. Limbo doesn't suit me. It goes for job hunting, it goes for temporary living, it goes for personal relationships. If I know what I'm waiting for, it's another story. I can be Patience embodied then. But insecurity? It gets to me.

I'm waiting for a whole lot of things at the moment. And while I wait, I should write. I wrote this. It will have to do, for now.

On ostrich orange ottoman orgasms

Don't worry - this blog hasn't turned into a kinky XX shop (if you think I put the XX's in because I'm too prudish you're only partially right. I put them in because I couldn't think of any dirty words. Also, I am prudish).

Even if I am prudish, however, I can be led astray. And I have good friends that frequently try.

Last night I was on Facebook posting silly status updates along the lines of "I've been kidnapped by bad habits". (I even tried to make people pay ransom, since I am broke, but my luck was out. No one care enough about me to pay my ransom. Or, as one friend pointed out, ransom rarely helps. In fact, if other people paid my bad habits, it might even make things worse. But I digress...)

Another friend, the lovely Tara, was using her status update to complain about how she was stuck in the A-Z challenge. Been there, done that, I thought, and thus I thought I'd make a "helpful" suggestion - why not write her O-post about ottomans (or Ottomans - take your pick)? I'm not sure Tara felt particularly helped, but we had a nice chat that resulted in much amusement (and a coining of the term SLAWCS - I'm sure Tara will explain this at the first possible occasion)..

Fifteen minutes into this chat, another friend, the equally lovely Tami, arrived. For some reason, when Tami arrives, any conversation tends to take a naughty turn. Don't know why. It's a force of habit.

Anyway, Tami too was having problems with the A-Z challenge. What to to do for O? (Ooo - or it won't rhyme) Both Tami and Tara had toyed with the thought of going with "the big O". Personally, I was going orange. I still thought Tara should do ottomans. (Not "do"-do... See, now that Tami is in the picture, my mind turns to the gutter...) But then an idea was born - how about we mixed it all together and did a three-way of sorts?

I was slightly worried. I was game for orange (I already had it covered - but now you'll have to wait till post-April to read it), could think of one or two ideas for Ottomans (or ottomans), and even though I've no ideas where the ostriches came from - sure, I'd make it work. But... The big O? Hm... (This is where my prudishness comes in) How would this work with keeping my blog PG-Twitterteen? (I don't know what Twitter has to do with anything. Really.)

I swallowed my prude, though, and accepted the challenge. Unfortunately, now I have to think of something to actually write (that is only partially orange). Thus:

Orange ottomans.

Orange ostriches.

Ottoman ostriches.

Orange Ottoman ostriches.

Ostrich ottomans.

Ostrich Oranges.

Ottoman oranges.

And then. Of course. Ostrich orgasms. Orange orgasms. Ottoman orgasms, or, orgasm ottomans. Oh, dear. My blog will be flooded with spam and creeps and the Internet is likely to explode. Before that happens, though, don't forget to visit both Tara and Tami today. I'm quite curious how they are tackling this challenge within the challenge!

UPDATE - We're a foursome! Our dear friend Natasha took us by surprise, and joined in on the fun. You need to visit there too - her part is brilliant!

On distant digital derivation (and a digression or two)

This weekend I attended a photo class. It was a impulsive thing - a wish generated by my mother, adopted by me, triggered by an ad in our local newspaper, and eventually followed through by the combined effort of miscommunication and generosity. My mother entered us despite me having laid other plans, and without knowing the cost. When discovering the cost (which was a little over the price we'd expected), she offered to pay. I altered my original plan, and we were thus able to participate.

Much alike how I will change my original plan for this post. 

I meant to write a little about the class, about how useful it had been, and to show a few samples of snapshots that proved I had through the course of 14 hours concentrated on one hectic weekend, I had become a superb photographer. But then the course didn't prove that. 

What I learned through this course, in addition to the stuff on the curriculum, was a) that I am NOT (as I thought) a good-ish amateur photographer; I am a terribly mediocre one, b) my beloved camera, Buck, that has been my compadre for four years, on three continents, during various times of stress and worry; is outdated. Buck is no class act camera. Buck has limitations, and c) if I want to take great pictures I also will have to do some post-shot work, meaning Photoshop. Tampering with images is no longer an issue; only purists will consider it any different than doing work in a darkroom. Photoshop is the darkroom of the digital age. 

It was three largeish disappointments to handle on top of a whole lot of (very useful) information regarding shutter speed, aperture, ISO, file formats, lightning, composition and so on. The class was interesting; the instructor impressive, engaging and lovely; and I think in the long run it will make me appreciate photography more. It has triggered a new set of thoughts around this vagueish hobby of mine. But I feel I had more use of learning of these things than of learning how to use them (especially since I didn't learn how to use them, due to points a) and b), and by default c) (since I don't have or plan to get Photoshop) above. But rather than taking all these new "rules" I've learned and putting them into use, I prefer learning by doing. Walking the road myself, see what happens. Okay, so the chances are that I will take a gazillion crappy photographs. But perhaps that is the price I have to pay to find my way of taking those few, great ones I sometimes feel I get. 

One could easily turn this into a writing analogy. I recently almost applied for a writing class. I didn't tell a soul about it, because I didn't want to face having to deal with people's reactions should I not get in. In the end, I shouldn't have worried, since I didn't even apply. One reason was the whole Japan debacle that turned my life upside down for quite a while (and to an extent still does). But at the same time, this freed up considerable amounts of time, so if I had wanted I still could have applied. 

The deadline was April 1st. I ended up not even trying. I could analyze it all day long, and I could make excuses all day long. It makes very little difference. But the lesson from the photo class applies here too: a writing class might have infuriated me more than inspired me, since I like to walk the path myself. Everything I know about writing, I have taught myself, from reading. By adding new genres, new authors, new books, I have expanded my horizon. Obviously there are still things I could have learned from a writing class, but I am not sure I'm ready to go there just yet. I need to figure out things on my own first, then I can absorb more information, more "rules", more ideas. 

Or maybe I'm just scared to discover that I am mediocre, that I am outdated, and that I need to "Photoshop" my work before it's ready for the world? 

Or. Maybe my failure to apply for the class has to do with the general post-Japan funk I've been hitting lately. I'm having a hard time getting out of bed, getting my butt off the chair in front of my computer, enjoying the weather, enjoying free time. I've been restless and motionless at the same time. I don't have anything to do, but there is an abundance of things I could do, should I feel like it. But I don't. I don't feel like doing anything. It took me days to summon the energy to write one single email to my current (former? Past and future?) employer to ask them if anything regarding "my situation" had changed. Will I go back? I still don't know. They still don't know. Shall I apply for jobs? Of course I shall. But I postpone. And postpone. It took me another day to change two lines in my resume. At this rate it will take weeks before I send off any applications. 

Limbo funk. Writing funk. Spring funk. Japan funk. And now photo funk. I need to snap out of it, but I don't really feel like it. I feel like sitting in a blanket hut in my room with a flashlight, pretending that the grown-ups are monsters, and that they cannot reach me as long as I keep completely still. 

This post is long, especially for A-Z standards. And yet I am asking you to visit a few links I'm about to post. Outrageous. One is another blog post I wrote for today. Over at Burrowers, Books & Balderdash the complete different side of my funk is showing - the silly side. Then, at our Burrow website, www.the-burrow.org, our collective spring mood is displayed in a brand new drabble feature. ¨

Finally, I read a blog post by the lovely Bru yesterday that really made me nod and shake my head all at the same time. She makes some very good points about the A-Z challenge, and I think the post and the comments below are well worth a read no matter how you feel about the challenge (but please keep the discussion civil). Obviously I don't agree with everything she says, since I am participating. But I must admit it got to me, even if I feel I've been clear from I signed up that I'm in this for my own part - for regularity - and not to gain followers. I won't attempt to visit every other blog in the challenge, and I don't expect every participant to visit mine. The new blogs I find as a result of the challenge, I consider a bonus. (I had a longer comment on this over at Bru's blog, but something technical sumfink has been messing with me, because it is all gone, and it was waaaay too long for me to even consider writing it again.)

Anyway. In response to Bru, possibly; as a way of talking myself through the funk, definitely; and because the whole "reader friendly, short post" concept doesn't always go well with my random, digressionary nature - this has been the monster post of the century. Bear over with me, and come back for Wordless Wednesday tomorrow (it will be a picture from my sorrow-less, pre-photo class days as a good-ish amateur, when Buck was solid gold and I thought Photoshop was for the tech savvy alone). Thanks for listening.  

On resolutions

It's been a busy start of 2011 for me, but this time not the "UÆÆÆÆÆ - I've got so much to do I don't know where to start!" kind of busy the end of 2010 was, but more of a mellow version: "I've got a million things to fix but since I've been so busy lately I think I'll rather read a book".

Thus, my messy messy room back in my parents' house where I am staying for the time being (messy because it's been stuffed with the residue from my moving out of my Oslo-apartment) has continued to be messy. My empty empty suitcase has continued to be empty, even though my mother has nudged me (rather often) that I should start packing. The big things I've got under control - flights are booked, visa is in my passport, and there is a room awaiting me when I arrive in Tokyo. But all those small things - pre-travel purchases, packing, laundry (though, embarrassingly enough, my mother has taken charge of that department, so I can only happily [and guiltily] figure out which of my laundered clothes to fit into my suitcase when the time arrives.

If I've been so unburdened with work, however, then how do I justify not getting back to my blogging before now? Well, I have considered it. And then it fell into the "I'll get there, eventually" pile along with the tidying and the packing. Surely I could justify that I had other things to do right now. I have had other things to do, after all, and some of them I even did. Such as read through and give feedback on two friends' manuscripts. Such as dragging my butt to the dentist. Such as hosting a farewell-party of sorts with some of my friends, and planning a new one with some more of them. But the bottom line is that I haven't avoided blogging because I didn't have the time, it was because I didn't feel like it. The procrastination ghost has once again taken control over me (and I feel obliged to pay it respect for as long as I can - in less than two weeks I will be in the middle of adapting to a busy job in a busy city, after all).

I'm rambling. This post was supposed to be all about resolutions, and how I don't make any, since I tend to not keep them. I also dislike the idea that we only get once chance to make improvements in our lives each year. I imagine we'd soon discover that we wouldn't get much done. If you have only one deadline each year, it's a lot worse if you miss it.

However, despite my intentions, I find myself examining the records at the end of a year. 2010 has been an odd mix of accomplishments and failures on my part, and I would be very grateful if 2011 mostly consisted of the former. For that to happen, however, I need a plan. Thus resolutions are hard to avoid.

I have decided, since my goal is to have accomplishments rather than failures, to make them fairly easy to fulfill. Thus, here are my 2011 resolutions:

1) I will do [blank] that I have never done before.

2) I will strive to stop [blank], and begin [blank].

3) I will [blank] without [blank].

By filling in the blanks once I see what is actually possible to achieve, I can hardly fail. For instance, I have already fulfilled number one, since I have never blogged in January before...

Happy New Year!

On how not to do it

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a scientific experiment that may or may not have been conducted by yours truly in an honest attempt to test various strategies to beat writer’s block. I give you:

1) Lock yourself in your 2 by 2 square feet apartment (I’m only exaggerating a bit) with the logic that with NO distractions it has to crack. (Scientist’s note: it might also be an idea to unplug the internet for this tactic to be successful.)

2) Drink alcoholic beverages. Claims have been made that this is supposed to release the creative juices, but the test subject found that it only released a whole different set of juices.

3) Swear and curse at or into pillows. Nope. Not helping.

4) Paint your fingernails. Strangely enough this appears to not have an effect on the ability to crack the block.

5) Make and hang up a poster of 46 judgmental giraffes (and one penguin) with the hope that their penetrating stare will guilt you into writing.

6) Count the aforementioned giraffes (and penguin) to make sure you’ve got it right.

7) Allow a crappy movie to play in the background to make the task seem less serious and scary (Scientist’s note: this will interfere with the no distractions point)

8) Google “writer’s block”. (Actually, this might give you some clues of how to beat it for real, but what absolutely doesn’t help is when you put “writer’s clock” in the search field. I am now the owner of a very spiffy watch, though..)

Scientist's conclusion: None of the above were efficient.

On(line) stumbling

I am a world class procrastinator. I can spend endless amounts of time checking emails (I've got more than one to check), Facebooks (there is only one Facebook I am checking, but with multiple account syndrome this keeps me occupied in plural as well), blogs (are you detecting a pattern?), online newspapers and so on. The time wasting opportunities online are nearly endless. However, if by chance no one updates their Facebook for an hour or two, if no new emails find their way into my inbox or if all the blogs are read; there is one website that never runs out of interesting things for me to watch.

http://www.stumbleupon.com/ allows you to click and click and click and each time a new, interesting website pops up, one that falls into one of several pre-elected categories of your choice. During one session of stumbling, I can find such different things as

1) A recipe for the world's best egg rolls (their words, not mine).

2) This photograph:

and this one:

3) A video of the band MUSE who were forced to lip synch at an Italian television performace. As a protest, the band members switched instruments and generally made a very unconvincing performace (notice the ironic grin on the "vocalist's" face when he sings "They will not control us"...)





4) A website with various tips for writers, from beginner to professional.

5) The Tone Matrix - which is a highly addictive sound-music-chessboardy-vibration-xylophonish thingie that MUST be tested, but not in a place where you can annoy others with the sound... Only play in company if they can be amazed (they will be).

6) An online software that allows you to speed read (or spreed - I already like this thingie because it is a made-up word. Yay!), or, as I did, test how fast you are able to read. It's quite interesting. I found that I still read faster in Norwegian than in English. In Norwegian I could still follow the text perfectly at 600 words/minute, while it got tricky at 650/minute. In English I started having problems at about 550/minute. Note that the spreeder doesn't reflect my actual reading speed - I certainly read slower than this in real life.

7) Another video - this time some pretty darn incredible tap dancers. How this is humanly possible is beyond me...




I could go on, because there is always more to stumble upon at stumbleupon.com, but I think I have left you with enough oddities for one Friday. Happy weekend!

On snalsi nomolos*

Sit back, friends and foes (not that I think any foes of mine would bother reading this. Except you, Mrs. Senidanerg eht & Tnecniv Tnias. I know you are always reading.****), this is going to be a long one. I know it is stupid of me to announce that it will be a long post since this for many will be the cue to skip reading it entirely, but I am confident that those of you who know what is important in this world - to read blogs instead of work because (TG) it's Friday - will cherish this opportunity to avoid the real world for more than just a minute. It might take two. Three, if you're laughing. Four if you're also leaving a comment.

For those of you who did skip this post because I announced it would be long (I don't know why I keep typing as you clearly are no longer reading, but logic has never been my strong suit [? I want to say "suit", but I'm also considering "side". If , YOU have a STRONG opinion OPINION about THIS, you YOU {I keep messing up the order of the capitalized words. Tami, how do you DO it?} should VOTE at double-u,***** double-u, double-u, dot, voteforsuitorside, dot, com.], I will continue to address you), I can assure you it will only be at 500 words. And then maybe 500 more. And 500 after that. I don't know. I haven't counted them.

Anyway, the reason today's post is so long (in addition to my obvious problem with reaching the point), is that I have a lot on my mind. It has been a week without blogging for me, after all.

My efforts to start fresh, blog less, study more, become a better person and save the world have only partially paid off.

I have not (yet) saved the world. In fact, I think there is probably more left to do now than it was when I started.

I have not become a better person. I have recently had an interesting discussion about Hamlet and Dave Eggers. I have also recently ventured into the rose drying business. But I have not become a regular at the gym. I have not managed to get up before 7 am more than two days in a row. I still drink too much coffee. And I have not (yet) finished my thesis. Thus there also remains quite a bit of work on becoming a better person.

I have been blogging less. My twice a week schedule is functioning, except for the part that I also blogged yesterday (but then at the Burrow Blog, of course. So I stray). What is not functioning about it is that I have not picked good days. I regret my choice of Mondays, and expect to sometime in the future turn to Tuesdays. I could explain why, but it might bore you, and I strive to do that through other means today. Fridays are still good days, but it would be better for me to write the posts on Fridays and then post them later. Possibly still on a Friday, but not on a Friday morning. Friday afternoons I never get a thing done anyway. (I am boring even myself now...)

The point to my seemingly useless catching up is that I in evaluation of my efforts to start fresh realize that I am terrible at just that. I keep thinking that I can - tomorrow. I keep forgetting that yesterday's tomorrow is today (it's deep. Think about it). In all my endeavors to change my bad habits I keep stepping into the same old traps. Like steel-jaw traps and deadfalls. It's exhausting.

So I didn't do awesome on my first week. I did a little. It is better than doing nothing.

I did do a lot of nothing as well. Like when I told myself that I was going to clean my room. I did nothing. Then I told myself I was going to make a specific plan for my new semester. I did nothing. Then I told myself I needed to write a drabble for the Burrow's Paying It Forward project. I wrote half a drabble. Then I did nothing. Then I wrote the other half of the drabble. Then I realized the two halves made a drabble and a half (HOW?!? People more compentent in mathematics than me have pondered this difficult problem and not yet come up with an answer). Then I painfully cut it down to 100 words and went back to doing nothing. Then I watched the movie "Pay It Forward". I didn't love it. I didn't hate it. Then I did noth... No, wait, I did the dishes after that.

I know I need to do less nothing and more awesome. Actually, anything not-nothing would help. I will strive to do that. (I do wonder if this counts as nothing?)

Update's over.

I intend to finish this post sometime soon. Like now. But I still have a few things I'd like to say. It will probably take a few hundred words. I think. I still haven't counted them.

You see, I'd like to send a big, warm thank you to some lovely bloggers out there. It is always nice to have an award. I've gotten many lately (just check out my bling over in the sidebar, yo!), and I do hope I manage to cover them all in this post (if I didn't, it's because my brain is wired for thesis writing and not blogging - drop me a hint and I'll make up for the mistake by Monday).

First, it was so sweet of Claudia to wish me a happy new beginning with the Versatile Blogger Award. Thank you!

Secondly, Yvonne is once again proving that she is a gem by telling me I deserve a star. And on Friday the 13th nonetheless! Thanks, Yvonne :)

Leigh gave me a bit of a challenge last week - what three things would I do if the Mayans were right and 2012 really is the apocalypse? First I thought my list would look a little something like this:

1) Stop writing my thesis and do something worthwhile for a change.

2) Stop writing my thesis and do something worthwhile for a change.

3) Stop writing my thesis and do something worthwhile for a change.

But once I got started again with the new semester, I not only recalled all my angst and stress, but also why I started this in the first place. I do think this is worthwhile (in between all the nothingness). Thus, my list would instead start like this:

1) Finish my thesis in style  (after all, maybe the apocalypse is *all* it takes to bring peace to the Middle East?)

and then I'll add these two perhaps-not-too-inventive-but-at-least-true points:

2) Spend more time with friends and family

3) Write that book. That one. The one I never seem able to finish. If there really is an apocalypse, there will not be anyone left reading it, but at least I can die in a crash of flames knowing I was an author at last.

Aaaand, finally, Tami called me strange... You can read all about it here. The thing is, there is a contest. Frankly I am a little unsure how, what and why, but it's got to do with something strange you can win. I'd rather read all about that here, than to take my word for it.

Now I'm supposed to pass these things on, and stuff, but y'all know I am on a tight schedule with making sense of Middle Eastern history before the world comes to an end in just a year and a half. So, if you feel strange, or apocalyptical, or even versatile - or maybe you feel you deserve a star? - feel free to plaster it up over at your own blog. Sharing is caring (and also endearing and forebearing) and all that.




* Finally it feels appropriate to explain that since I couldn't think of a fitting title for today's post I decided to take the first word(s) I read, turn it (them) backwards, and use as a title. Since this is somewhat of an unsatisfactory arrangement, I will offer whomever comes up with a better title** my first born child*** in return.


** I am actually quite satisfied with the current title. Regardless of the fact that I have never visited the Solomon Islands and that I don't think their flag is all that pretty. The flag is okay, I suppose, but I object to the arrangements of the stars. They could be more "random" and less "die" (as in "singular dice", not as in "cease to be").

*** I will probably not give away my first born child even if the best title ever comes up. There are several reasons for this, three of which I will list:
1) I don't yet have a first born (and incidentally also not a second born etc) child. I might never even have one. So it is a terrible prize to win, really. Offers no encouragement for creativity at all.
2) Even if I eventually do have a child (first born or otherwise), I am not sure it would be the moral thing to do to give it up over a blog post title. Had it been a book title, I might feel different.
3) Any child of mine will most likely be stubborn, annoying and use too many parentheses. I am not sure anyone would be interested in winning such a child in exchange for a perfect blog post title.

**** I hope I just made this up too. If I didn't I sincerily appologize to the Senidanerg eht & Tnecniv Tnias family. Also, if you are confused about the order of the asterisks (huh. Asterix just took on a whole new meaning for me), don't worry. I am too.

***** Why not double v, though? That's what we say in Norwegian. Makes a lot more sense, if you ask me. But then I just wrote this post, so this "sense" thing you're (I'm) talking about is definitely not my strongest point. Huh. Point? Not suit or side?

On WiPs

I hope that the project that currently holds the dubious honour of being my WiP (or more accurately, Work Not Exactly in Progress but At Least Not Abandoned Altogether [WNEiPbALNAA]), isn’t going to define my writing career. This story is an idea that started out as satire or societal criticism, it took a strange turn towards chic lit during last year’s NaNoWriMo, and when I picked it up again this spring it had morphed beyond recognition into a “find yourself and the meaning of life”-esque, Oprah book club-ish, cliché-cluttered cacophony of merged ideas and non-likable characters. If I am lucky, the character development will camouflage the thin story, a rewrite from tell to show will make at least some of the characters believable (though I only think one of them has the potential to be likeable), and the humoristic elements might save the entire thing from drowning in sappy lurv-scenes and descriptions of sunsets.


If I am very lucky (and even cleverer) it might be a societal criticism satire chic lit with Oprah book club potential.

But that is also all it can be. I am not bashing the societal criticism satire chic lit Oprah book club potential authors out there, but I can’t really see myself fit into this category with anything else I write. My other WiPs (or more accurately Works Not Exactly in Progress and Frankly Quite Lost and Forgotten [WNEiPaFQLaF]) are all very different from the WNEiPbALNAA. While I do not like to describe non-written works (not just because of the risk of someone else writing them, but also because I fear there are WNEiPbALNAA- and WNEiPaFQLaF-eating basilisks out there who might be hungry), let me give you an idea how my mind works.

The most prominent WNEiPaFQLaF is one that is insisting on not being forgotten (in fact, it is more of a Work Not Exactly in Progress but Impossible To Block Out Entirely [WNEiPbITBOE]). The idea for this one goes a couple of years back, though it also started radically different than what it currently seems to have evolved into. It’s got to do with history, and some trolls, and maybe a quest of sorts. I should think it will end up as a YA fantasy-ish thingie. Actually, I’ve got it pinned down more specifically than that, but shhh! I think I hear the basilisk lurking nearby...

However, due to the history part (which isn’t even close to the part of history I dabble with at the university) and the mythical creatures part, there is some heavy research required for this one. I want to do it justice, so I don’t want to do it right now. I just can’t see myself battle with more than one major research project at the time (and my thesis has a deadline – the WNEiPbITBOE doesn’t).

No matter if I decided to keep this one in the drawer until I am ready to tackle it, though, it won’t listen. It keeps bugging me with all sorts of details that simply *must* fit in. Also, whenever I see a mountain or go into the forest, inspiration bubbles and I can barely keep from getting back to it (I keep a notebook nearby at all times, though, since I am terrified of missing out on any of these details).

The third WNEiPaFQLaF (or more accurately – no, wait, this one really is a WNEiPaFQLaF) is a story (I am thinking novella, eventually) about a cloud. This might not seem all that interesting, but it is a very persistent cloud... This is actually the current story of mine that style-wise will remind readers the most of the writing on this blog. Nothing I ever write will be entirely without humour (it is a law of nature, I think), but this story has the potential to use the dry, not-laugh-out-loud-but-chortle-lightly sort of humour I often end up with here. Plus, I might add a zen-group (if that didn’t make any sense, I think my point has been made).

On top of this, there are maybe five or six ideas that haven’t really formed into story mode (the one that was supposed to be a prequel to my WNEiPbALNAA, but that really isn’t anymore; the one with the wooden pig; the one with the anthropologist; and not to forget the one with the married couple whose upcoming divorce I for some reason feel competent to explain). Finally, there are about sixty thousand (or so it feels) ideas that don’t really have anything tied to them yet, I just know I want to do something with them some day. These might not be more than a sentence, a character trait, or a setting (someday I will write a World War Two novel, I WILL!).

Having ideas is not the tricky part for me. Having viable ideas, though, is a whole different matter. Having viable ideas that can be turned into actual stories, stories I can convince myself to give up procrastination for so that they will actually be written, is the most difficult of all.

Anyone else ever get overwhelmed by the amount of stories wanting you to write them?

On nine things I would rather do than write my thesis

To say that the work on my thesis has not been flowing easy these last few weeks months would be like saying that climbing Mount Everest is “a bit of a hike”. It’s like every fibre of my body is working against me whenever I try to make any sort of progress. If I try to open the document entitled “Chapter Five (Or How I Lost The Will To Live)”, my toes rebel and pull out the plug to the computer. If I open any of my reference books, my eyes automatically shut, making it very hard to read anything at all. If I put my fingers to the keyboard, my elbows start twisting uncontrollably, causing perfectly sensible sentences such as “The Palestinian refugee problem remained a difficult challenge for the US authorities” to turn into nonsense: “The Oskedumuqn fureeg odrnep enraimed s fiddiclut xakkenge fro the IS arothotititties.”

On the rare occasions that my body does not rebel against me, my mind does. I stare at the screen for hours, looking pensive and concentrated, I am sure, but in reality I am shouting at the top of my lungs (but you know, inside me) “I DON’T WANNA, I DON’T WANNA!”. I really, really don’t. I want to go outside in the (for once) lovely weather. I want to read a good, fiction book. I want to procrastibake.

Basically, I want to do anything but write my thesis. So I came up with the following list:


The ten things I would least like to do right now (10 being the best of the worst):

10) Pull my nails out one by one.

9) Shave my head by use of the teeth of a (live) great white shark.

8) Sky dive into a (live) volcano.

7) Eat Roquefort cheese.

6) Eat Roquefort cheese with a topping of salmonella.

5) Eat Roquefort cheese with a topping of salmonella while reading the Twilight books.

4) Stick needles into my eyeballs.

3) Practice self-dismemberment.

2) Touch a (living or dead) snake.

1) Write my thesis.

So there you have it. I really don't want to write that thesis. But I kinda have to. I have given myself until I leave for work this afternoon to finish the crappiest draft in history (in fact, it is so crappy that there will be written Master's theses about it in the future). In the meantime I have banned myself from the blogosphere. I will pull the internet chord if I have to! If you see me around at all today, PLEASE KICK ME OUT! (When I return from work tonight, though, hopefully a free woman, I will have no kicking, please...)

In the meantime, though, why don't you check out another fabultastic post at Burrowers, Books & Balderdash?

On mornings and their aftermath

When I was a kid, I used to have a T-shirt that said ”I don’t do mornings”. I think I still should have one of those. It’s not that I can’t get up early – I can, if I have a good reason – and it’s not that I don’t function well in the morning – if I do manage to get up early, I function better in the morning. I’m pretty much a morning person, apart from one little detail: I can’t be trusted in the morning.


I’m not saying “don’t share state secrets with me in the morning” – I can keep a secret even before 10 am (though frankly, if you’re sharing state secrets with me, it’s you who have a trust problem…). But what I am saying is that I am less rational in the morning.

Last night I told myself that I needed to get up early today. I needed to have a quick shower and breakfast, and I needed to leave the house and go to the university where there is a perfectly nice working space waiting for me.

This morning, however, I told the alarm clock to go hide where the sun never shines. Actually, I got out of bed to tell it this. I was up, I was awake, and I was lucid (or so I thought). But instead of staying up and awake, I went back to bed, back to sleep. When I eventually did get up, I had a looong breakfast, a looooong shower, and I didn’t leave the house at all. “After all,” morning-me said, “I have a perfectly nice working space right here. Working from home will save me lots of time.”

Only it didn’t. It never does.

I turned on the computer (that part is easy). I located my notes, and I intended to open the documents I need to write what is commonly known as “that ruddy chapter five”. Only before I got a chance to do that I decided I should check my email. Facebook. My blog. The Burrow. Before I knew it I had spent two hours replying to emails, writing comments on my blog, watching “Can I Haz Cheezburger Kittehs”, reading and commenting on other people’s blogs, and so on. And so forth.

Once that was done, I realized it was time to eat lunch. Lunch it is. I couldn’t work while eating, of course, so I read some more blogs. Watched more kittehs (I hate that word, by the way. It is beyond me why the funny captions [they are very funny!] supposedly become funnier because they are misspelled. Why?). Checked my email again.

After lunch I had to do the dishes. And once I was at it I might as well tidy a little as well.

I don’t know how time learned to fly, but I can assure you its wings are working perfectly around here. All this because the irrational morning-me decided that today would be different (it wasn’t). Morning-me thinks emails should have a higher priority than my education (it shouldn’t!). Morning-me even believes that night-me will be rational enough to set tomorrow-morning-me right (I won’t).

On procrastination (part two, since I discovered I indeed had used this title before. Why am I not surprised?)

It must be wrimo-time! How do I know this? Well, aside from the fact that I helped organize one, I found myself cleaning the bathroom this morning. On a Tuesday! A Tuesday when I was not expecting company, when the bathroom wasn’t actually all that dirty and most importantly, on a Tuesday when I had other things planned. Oh yes, we are procrastinating, aren’t we?

I am actually procrastinating by writing this as well, but it feels like a better way of procrastinating than the rest because a) my blog could use some TLC, poor thing; b) it is writing even if it isn’t writing what I was supposed to be writing; and c)the alternative was to do the dishes as well and I can’t all housewifey just because I am avoiding my BuNoWriMoWiP (that is one hing of a complicated way of saying “the crap I am writing in June”).

Fortunately, I haven’t been avoiding the BuNoWriMoWiP all day. I have managed to read through some relevant portions of the story thus far (because, as regular readers will know[anyone else can get the explanation here], I am cheating a little by continuing on what I wrote for last year’s NaNoWriMo. I have also rediscovered my original chapter structure plan (which has been changed, but it’s still a useful tool to consult for whenever I get stuck, because I will), and I have written some 700 brand new words (well, the actual words aren’t new, per se, but you know - they haven’t been utilized in this manuscript, at least not in this particular order before).

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to continue writing or actively avoiding the BuNoWiP all day, because I have to go to work. I am actually not feeling so well (my voice is coming and going, which is not exactly an advantage when working with customers), but there appears to be no available replacements, so I’ll have to make the best of it (I happen to rock at body language, so maybe having a voice is overrated).
I will try to get a little more writing done before I go to bed tonight, though, as the target word count per day to reach the goal of 50 000 words in a month is 1667 words. I may or may not make that, but at least I want to try.

Finally, as with my NaNo experience (I found this post from back then which largely still applies this time) I have to deal with the fact that my writing feels forced, and frankly, crappy. Normally that would be a bad sign, but for wrimos I have started to suspect that it is actually a good sign. Wrimos are all about writing a rough draft, quantity over quality, as a way of forcing yourself to get through the obstacle your inner critic often poses. I think a lot of writers give up because they never quite manage to jump that particular bar (which many set too high as it is), and a wrimo might be exactly what you need to get there. Thus, I am proud of my 700 words of crap today, because they will eventually become the foundation for a manuscript I can edit to one day look like a novel.

(And a final plug – we are still accepting participants. Now the Facebook group [link in top right corner of this blog] is open, so anyone can join.)

Happy writing!