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November 30, 2004
more help for writers (but not writer-moms)
Via 43 Folders, a fun list of tactics for battling writer's block .
Funny, though: I'm reading this, seeing some larger strategies as "take a break" and "come at it from a strange place."
Moms (and chime in, moms) don't need these kinds of strategies. Our lives are FULL of writer's block busters.
In fact, our time is so pieced together and interrupted that the block for us is the inability to get that chunk of time where the block can develop.
My block is having to return to a piece that I spent 20 minutes on and not being able to take it up where I left it because I had to leave it so abruptly (come get your kid from school, she barfed in the library, being the most recent).
We need to compile a list of strategies for writing in a disjointed lifespace. I'm thinking one of those strategies might involve something like Ulysses, or Tinderbox, or OpenMind. The problem, though, is that these "strategies" cost money, and since I'm saving for an iPod (strategy #2: if you can't hear them, they won't be *as* distracting), I'm not coughing up dough yet.
Any feedback on these or similar applications are greatly appreciated. I'll probably be doing some trial downloads here shortly as well, and will offer my own feedback.
Posted by mryonker at 10:41 PM | Comments (2)
the good, the bad, and the monster at the end of this blog post
The good: when you don't clean out your vehicle after a road trip, you find goodies, like two cans of LiveWire in the road cooler, that you can enjoy on your way to school the next day.
The bad: when you're 28 and you think that you can begin to drink chocolate milk without worrying about that troubling childhood lactose intolerance, you can't. It still makes your stomache ache and gurgle and your intestines swell into painful twisted balloon animals.
And the monster:
Walking back to the car today from school, I was thinking about a blog entry that talked about running + nursing = sometimes you can't run. I was thinking this because after a week away from school (where I was nursing on a semi-regular schedule), being back at school for a day made for some pretty uncomfortable milk-makers, ones that I wouldn't want to, you know, take for a jog.
But I continued thinking: you know, there's probably some people (like the people I see on a regular basis) that might not want to hear about rock-like mammaries. I might have to start the post with a cut that said something like, "Hey, this post is about some personal stuff, so if you don't want to read something about me that is potentially embarrassing, do not click "To read the rest of..."
But then I remembered a book that I LOVED as a child called _A Monster at the End of this Book_. Grover was the main character, who with every page turn warned (and pleaded) with the reader to QUIT TURNING PAGES because there was a MONSTER at the end of the book. Grover built brick walls (which were crumbled with the next page turn) to prevent the reader from reading on.
Any disclaimer I would use to warn people away might just compell them to read on; heck, when I was a kid I couldn't wait to find that monster, [spoiler warning] who was, incidentally, Grover. Not so scary after all. [/spoiler]
And me talking about the fact that I can't run when Josh hasn't nursed in 8 hours doesn't seem so scary or gross now, either, does it?
Posted by mryonker at 10:12 PM | Comments (1)
November 29, 2004
cheap entry--or useful link?
Via Rana, a quiz about blogger types..
This is particularly compelling to me because I was just thinking about the intersection of time spent blogging and blogging *for* an audience. Who do I blog for? Do I know who my audience is? How does who I think my audience is change what I blog about, or how I blog? Do I want to get out of my warm bed to come downstairs to post some silly list about how staying in a strawbale cabin for Thanksgiving is a) good for the soul, b) really bad for the back because the futon in it is thinner and squashy-er than a slice of fresh sandwich white, and c) scary when you have a fire in the stovepipe AND a tree come down not 20 yards away from said cabin in a windstorm?
My thoughts these days are on the act of writing and the blog as a genre in which the writer's and reader's roles are so transformed by the medium that (and here will be my refrain) things like "reader-based" and "writer-based" conflate, that the term "responsibility" reacquaints itself with (or reimagines itself as) "the ability to respond" [in the sense of writer responsbility AND reader responsibility], and that I will develop a sudden and irksome self-conscious paranoia that I have misspelled responsibility 20 times in this really long, discombobulated sentence.
Posted by mryonker at 09:20 PM | Comments (0)
November 25, 2004
turkeys et cetera
I tend to get a little depressed when we come to stay with my mom, mostly because she lives in the coolest place [a mountain top] and under pretty cool conditions [wood burning heat, rain water harvesting, sheep herding]. But when I'm here, it always seems like I have a baby to chase, so I miss out on the fun stuff (wood chopping, sheep feeding, hiking). I end up inside the cabin most of the time, making sure the baby doesn't burn himself on the woodstove, trying to entertain the kids, etc. I can't even really read or write. So I fall into a strange listless depression that involves eating and inertia.
I was able to write a little at the laundromat yesterday; I'm working up a proposal to do a time-space study of moms who blog, and things are coming along. I'd like to be able to offer participants, who will be required to do a good bit of writing, some sort of remuneration, so I need to do some looking around for funding.
I was also going to get a Flickr account up, but I am stuck using my mom's mini-vaio ( this thing is soooo itty-bitty) and her dial-up; so I'll just wait to post pics until after we get home.
My sis Fran is coming up today. At 30 weeks preg, she should be a wonder to behold. I can't wait to see her!!
Posted by mryonker at 10:41 AM | Comments (2)
November 22, 2004
temporary hiatus
We are staying in our cabin in WV for Thanksgiving. There have already been some interesting events to report; however, I don't have the time to indulge myself in the documenting of such events at this time.
A special shout-out to my neighbor, whose email address I somehow don't have:
<shout out>
Hey Deb! I didn't mean to leave without talking to you. :( My knee is better, though running here in WV will probably reverse my recovery. Please have a happy Turkey day, and we'll catch up when I get back next weekend.
</shout out>
Real post and pics later.
Posted by mryonker at 11:17 AM | Comments (2)
November 19, 2004
brian's vices
A strange thing: they took away that new toolbar that I moaned and groaned about several posts ago. Now I'm back to coding in links. Maybe they decided if I didn't appreciate it, I couldn't have it or something.
This after I began to appreciate the toolbar for making links. Of course.
And a snip of dialogue from Wednesday eve as I returned from school:
B: Hi honey. How's your day?
Me [suspicious because normally I get "Where have you BEEN!!"]: Fine...
B: You know how you said you loved me on the phone today?
Me [eyes narrowing]: yeah...
B: How much, exactly, do you love me?
Me: What did you BUY NOW??
B: Well, I went to look at some parts on a truck...
Me [relief seeping into my shoulders]: Oh, parts. How much?
B: Well, $250...
Me: That's an awful lot for parts. For which...?
B: Well, the parts are actually still ON the truck. Like, the parts CAME WITH a truck.
The main irony here is that we actually received a warning from our village zoning guy who said that we have to get rid of or register the three "abandoned/junk cars" from our driveway. And he's buying more.
The further irony is that we actually have FIVE unregistered vehicles in the drive.
Posted by mryonker at 08:39 AM | Comments (1)
November 17, 2004
let's try this again: in the comments, TAKE TWO
my blog has been living in the comments.
Collin posts today (or rather, late last night) something that I identify with on several levels, the most important level being the one in which I link here to him for the sake of posting and linking but not for the sake of really being able to add anything thoughtful or to engage with it.
IN OTHER BORING NEWS:
From yesterday: Hannah thinks I cannot help her with her math homework because "[I] grew up in the old days. [I] did take second grade, but they didn't know then what they are teaching kids now."
Jack says to me, after I demonstrate that I CAN count to 85: "Mom, you did that as fast as a pig could do it!!" I still am not certain whether that was a compliment or a cut down.
A final NOTE TO SELF:
You cannot think a 307 class full of management students will be moved to think by either of the following:
The New Work Order: Behind the Language of New Capitalism
In fact, the comments in class will be things like:
"You only live once."
"It's not what's RIGHT, it's what's RIGHT NOW."
"I simply don't think about it [the ingredients in bologna, someone being paid 3c to make her shirt, etc]."
"Ignorance IS bliss. What's wrong with that?"
Posted by mryonker at 03:22 PM | Comments (2)
crappy crapping crap
just to let everyone know:
I'm leaving that previous post up for posterity. Typepad has "improved" our word processing features by ripping the rug out from under those of us who hand code. Now, it appears, I CANNOT create links etc without using the crapping toolbar crap.
I don't even care about spell checking. Crappers.
Posted by mryonker at 03:04 PM | Comments (3)
in the comments
my blog has been living <a title="earthwide" href="http://www.earthwidemoth.com/mt/archives/000498.html">in </a> <a title="stepaside" href="http://wrt-howard.syr.edu/stepaside/archives/2004/11/molto_grazies.html"> the </a> <a title="iBeth" href"http://bethyoung.typepad.com/ibeth/2004/11/quality_varies_.html"> comments</a> of several other bloggers this week.
<a title="Collin" href="http://wrt-brooke.syr.edu/cgbvb/archives/2004/11/appearing_much.html">Today, or this morning, rather, Collin </a> posts something that deserves a link.
Even as I link him, I perform what he bemoans: links without engagement, links for the sake of posting, links for the sake of linking.
Posted by mryonker at 02:59 PM | Comments (0)
November 14, 2004
buddhism and motherhood
For a non-school project--whenever I get time (haha): buddhism and the Western (American) Mother.
So many things in our culture don't allow for (or contradict entirely) the core precepts of Buddhism. Now, I don't proclaim here to *be* Buddhist; I have only read around a little, meditated a little, and have mostly pined for the simple life that following the eight-fold path would be. Plus, I'd have trouble with abstaining from things like caffeine, especially in light of my current addiction to Dunkin Donuts extra cream extra sugar.
One thing I notice with the kids in my house is competition. I've blogged briefly about my aversion to agonism in the past , and it's something that, given more time, I'd like to pursue a little more carefully. Now, I'm probably mixing up my Eastern philosophies (and even as I write this, I think I'm bleeding into Taoism), but getting my kids to understand the idea that the "tallest tree gets chopped first" (ie, being the "best," "fastest," etc isn't always a good thing) would really be helpful to me.
Kid 1: I danced better than you today, Kid 2.
Kid 2: No, you didn't. You had to do that jump thing twice. She made you line up again.
Kid 1: No, the good people have to practice more than the people who aren't as good.
Kid 2: No, if you have to do it again, it means you didn't do it right the first time.
LATER THAT DAY
Kid 1: I'm first!! I finished my dinner first!
Kid 2: Yeah, because you shoved the last four bites in your mouth at once.
Kid 1: Yeah, but I BEAT YOU!!
Kid 2: Moooom!! Kid 1 is talking with food hanging out of her mouth!!
Granted, if I could be a calm, non-competitive, model, I might be able to infuse the household with calm, lovingkindness. But when my response is normally:
Mom: Y'ALL QUIT FIGHTING AND BE QUIET AND DON'T TALK TO OR TOUCH OR LOOK AT ONE ANOTHER OR I'LL... (stop the car, take your plates away, sit you in the corner, etc etc).
Not too much lovingkindness in that.
Other moms looking for enlightened motherhood:
MOM & Pop Culture : i am the buddha mom.....
Posted by mryonker at 01:24 PM | Comments (3)
November 11, 2004
hi, mom! and an exciting announcement
A funny thing is happening: my mom's reading my blog. Now, I know this isn't unheard of. Derek's dad comments frequently over at EWM.
But my mom's not like a normal parent. (This, by the way, is not a comment on Derek's dad being normal or not normal. He seems like a cool guy at EWM.)
Mom's thrilled and fascinated by any and all things cerebral, and we tend toward long-distance phone calls that cover topics like audience responsibility, politics, theories of organized religion, institutional ideology.
She's fascinated by the blog, but she has some issues with it. Why do I write it? Why do I choose to write about the things I write about? Who am I writing to? How is this helping me be a better writer? Why don't I just keep a diary? [She's actually very good for me; she knows how to ask a question.]
She was particularly worked up about this post from yesterday, where I discussed things like snot, dogs, and running misery.
Her confusion and indignation about my blog slowly swirled into her incomprehension concerning my running.
Mom: Who wants to read about your snot? Why would you take the time to write an entire post on how much your legs hurt and how miserable running can be? Why do you do it?
Me: Uh. Why do I run? or why do I blog?
Mom: Both!?!
Me: Un. Um. I like to? I like it?
Mom: But you hate it! At least, you present it that way. You bitch about hurting and you USE the blog to bitch.
Me [hackles rising, as I always get defensive when she starts grilling me in this way]: Look. Running and blogging are about ME. I run because I like to, but I need something to motivate me to do it, like a goal. I run right now because Deb is training for the marathon, and I'm training with her, and we have something to look forward to; we have a responsibility to get ready, a responsibility in the future. Running is hard. Running hurts. It feels good when you're done, but it's harder than hell to get started. Blogging is the same in that it involves writing, something I both love and hate. I love it when I'm able to make connections, understand new ideas, come up with some funny dialogue, whatever. I hate it because it's hard. It's hard to get started and it's hard to sustain. It hurts when it doesn't work. The blog makes me repsonsible to other people--to readers who read and dialogue, who read and commiserate, who read and lurk, who read and learn, who read and think I'm a jerk, whatever. But it's not about snot, or about times or distances; it's about discipline. It's about some sort of external-to-me thing that tempers my slacker tendancy.
OK, so there's that. Hi, Mom. Welcome to my blog. Please feel free to comment!! (She didn't feel entitled to post comments!)
The Exciting Announcment:
After much badgering by our grad director, I have decided (tentatively) on my exam areas:
Major: Rhetoric and Technology (gag! I'd like to do something that is more REALLY what this exam will be, like "Computers and Rhetoric," but we'll wrangle with this later).
Minor: Activist Pedagogy/Service Learning
Minor: Feminist Research Methodologies
Now I begin stalking possible committee members. Beware SU faculty!
Posted by mryonker at 01:26 PM | Comments (10)
November 07, 2004
highly scientific experiments conducted while running
Our Sunday 12-sometimes-13-miler was only 10 today. Myriad discomforts and injuries had us walking on a couple occasions, and we walked the last mile, so we're calling it 10.
I had the pleasure of conducting several highly scientific experiments today (mile markers are estimates):
Mile 3: the "snot viscosity experiment"
After repeatedly sniffling and wiping my dripping nose, I decide it's time to see what happens if I do nothing. The drip of snot slung from my nose, swinging and nearly hitting me in the face, until it reached my knees, at which point it finally snapped.
Mile 5: the "reaction to german shepard stimulus"
When faced with a large black charging german shepard, Deb begins singing "10 Little Ducks." I mutter gently "keep running, keep running" (a la Dory from Nemo). Said shepard leaves his yard to accompany us for a few miles, is christened "Dumbass" because he cannot stay out from under our feet AND charges passing cars.
Mile 7: the "big hill experiment"
I ran this experiment to see which got me up the hill with less agony: if I was the talker, or if I was the listener. Apparently, if I am the talker, I get up the hill with less agony. This might sound like it contradicts common sense (as in, talking would detract from my breathing, etc); however, today DEB talked up the entire hill, I felt like I was going to die and she crested the top saying something that sounded like "oh, that's getting easier" or some crazy bullshit like that.
Mile 8: the "what's Dumbass's *real* name experiment"
(AKA how will Deb and I react to a strange vehicle slowing down next to us)
Driver: Hey! Kaiser!
Deb [to me]: Do we ignore him?
Me [to Deb]: Sure.
Driver: Kaiser, come!
Me [to Deb]: Why would you name your dog after a sandwich roll?
Mile 10: the "snot viscosity experiment, iteration 2"
Apparently after 7 miles, the tenacity with which snot will swing from one's nose is is much different than it is at mile 3. Thicker? It hung only to my chin, and then proceeded to swing pendulously, at which point the swing was interrupted by my cheek.
For those purists among you, I will posit here that I believe narrative to be a highly scientific method. Seriously. So no cheap shots at the method.
Posted by mryonker at 12:20 PM | Comments (0)
November 06, 2004
brownie night out
I have a raging headache, probably because we just returned from the yearly service unit event for Girl Scouts. Our service unit manager always manages to make it into somekind of dance with a DJ, which the girls all love, of course, except that they always remind me of high school dances where you can't talk to anyone because the music is too loud and the dance floor is not being *danced* on, there are people milling around and hanging out and trying to talk. Over the music.
Plus for this dance I had my two non-brownie children with me. Jack hooked up quick with a couple of Daisies (his sweetie from pre-school was there) and so they chased around and only broke ONE glass vase, luckily, and didn't spill ANY kool-aid, somehow. Josh simply sat on my hip all night, and even had a little fun when I tried to do the electric slide holding him. It's a lot more work to dance when you're holding a 25 pound sack of baby.
Now my head aches, there's nothing on TV, and I have nothing to read. I read blogs for about an hour yesterday, all at one sitting, and ended up feeling carsick. I'm gonna have to figure out what's up with that.
And tomorrow is Sunday already. Torture 12-mile Sunday. I don't even want to think about it.
Posted by mryonker at 09:44 PM | Comments (2)
November 05, 2004
mourning several losses (and a record for the use of the word "pee" in a blog entry)
First, I should just say that I, like others and others and others (though those listed here have faculties of expression where I don't), am disappointed nearly beyond expression; I woke in the night Tuesday (Wednesday morning) to pee and surfed over to CNN to check on how the electoral numbers were coming down. Then (somewhere around 3 in the morning), Kerry still had a fighting chance: Ohio. I slept the rest of the night hopeful. I woke the next morning to huge losses: Ohio looking red, and my mail lady knocking on the door to ask if we had a "little calico kitty." Well, yeah, we got three. She pulls me out into the driveway so I can see into and across the road: a small body of white mottled cashmere lay still near our mailbox. She wanted to catch us before we put the girls out for the bus (for they would have certainly seen her first.)
I thanked her. Brian retrieved her, my Callie, and put her in a box from a case of valvoline. He buried her unceremoniously later that day near the garden and we waited until Hannah was home from school to tell her. She was devastated, understandably. She's a pretty sensitive little lady, and Callie was "the favorite" all around.
The hard part, though, was that Callie and the others have been relegated to the outside since Ginger (calico torty) peed rather obstinantly on the kitchen floor right under my nose with something like disdain on her little black and brown face [this was a couple weeks ago]. I flipped out and sent them all outside for good. We plan(ned) to put a kitty door in the garage and fashion a small cubby for them to cuddle in. They tended to prefer being outside anyway, and were really only inside to eat (and pee on my floor, it seems). Anyway, I feel huge guilt for kicking them out. Hannah even said "Mom, Callie wanted in last night! You should've let her in!!" Ugh. My scripted "I can't handle the cats and the bazillion people. I have enough trouble cleaning up PEE from PEOPLE much less pee from cats" sounded heartless.
So, back to documenting reactions to the election. This, via Liz Lawley should be telling to all those evangelical, value-mongering, anti-intellectuals who think W is a pious leader. I should mention here that this Bush-giving-victory-bird is not from this victory but instead from something from when he was govenor of TX, but I don't even care about contextuality or fairness or any rhetorical responsibilty right now.
Let's do polemic, shall we?
Posted by mryonker at 07:19 PM | Comments (4)
November 02, 2004
voting narrative
Derek posted a quick narrative of his first voting experience here in NY.
B and I walked into town hall to vote (#120 and #121). There was a small line, and we waited, studying the hard-to-read model of the ballot. I was thinking: why could you vote for Kerry/Edwards as Democrats, or as "WF" (Working Families?)? How confusing can they MAKE this?
Then, as we made our way to the desk thingies to sign our names, we realized there were TWO DISTRICTS. I did not anticipate this; there was no indication of such a thing on either of our little postcard acknowledgements.
The constable who stood sentry was of little help:
Brian: How do we know which district we're in?
Constable: It depends on which side of the street you live on.
Brian: What street?
Constable: [gesturing indiscriminately] This one.
Brian: Route 69?
Constable: [jabbing finger in same non-direction] This one.
Brian: [with saintly patience] So if we live south of 69, which district are we?
Constable: South?
Brian: [clears throat]
Lady We Know from Elementary School Who Was Working Poll: Hi guys. You're in District 2.
So, that's good to know. Then after we signed our names, I began studying the actual polling machine. (There was a little replica for people to "practice" on outside the booths.) Ours was exactly what Derek describes: big red lever closes the curtains, you tick smaller levers to indicate your choices, and you swing the big lever back to its original position to BOTH open the curtain and reset the machine/cast your votes.
I had a moment of anxiety before I swung the red lever back that something would stick and I would be standing in the booth with the curtains open and my votes still in place.
I don't have a detailed memory of what it was like 4 years ago in VA when I voted last, but I do remember getting a sticker (I VOTED!) and that I wasn't at any point confused.
I can understand how people could feel afraid of being judged. The constable obviously thought we had crawled out of some hole in the ground since we 1) did not know which district we were in and 2) did not understand his special constable sign-language.
I'd be interested in hearing or reading other election day narratives.
Posted by mryonker at 08:10 PM | Comments (0)
November 01, 2004
proof that my life is hell
For those of you who don't understand just how messy my house is, or how crazy I go trying to keep up with the four children and two men I live with, I offer this, an example that I cannot keep things organized:
To contextualize: here, I have just finished organizing the exam proposals of 5 other students from my program who are now finished with exams. [I need to read them soon.] I turned my back for ONE MINUTE (possibly less; no hyperbole here) and here is what I find--the littlest undoing (with much glee) the organizing I worked so hard to acheive.
I should just give up.
Actually, this is also proof that I have a FANTASTIC life. This baby is pretty damn cute. And I looooove him. He is ONE YEAR OLD (yesterday; he's a Hell-o-ween baby :), and he says UH-oh. Brian and I are horribly goofy and overcome, giggling and parroting him.
Us: UH-oh.
Josh: UH-oh.
Us: UH-oh
Josh: UH-oh
Posted by mryonker at 09:54 PM | Comments (1)
calories, laptops, recycling
Note to self: Running for 4 miles is effectively cancelled out by returning from said run and eating a bowl of Grapenuts, half a bag of kettlecorn, a peanut butter and honey sandwich, a handful of krinkle cut potato chips, and a Coke (all at one sitting!).
In fact, this behavior (and I write this for myself to read later!) is probably why you bitch and moan about running your tail off and never seeing "results."
That done, a word about my lovely laptop: I'm sick of it. (God, don't tell Brian. He could have bought another truck with the money we paid for it.) I'm not sure what it is, whether it's the small screen, the flat keyboard, the touchpad...
But whatever it is, here I sit at this ancient (grape!) iMac, punching away at the sluggish black keyboard, listening to the telltale rreeeennnnnngarrrrrrreeeeeeeennnnnnga of its guts, wishing I could check my email at this (the kids') desk instead of over at mine. I'm hoping my lust for the G4 will return.
And finally, a note for the members of my household who are over the age of 25 and who do not read this blog: when there are TWO trashcan-looking things in the kitchen, one filled with garbage like candy wrappers, leftover spaghetti, lightbulbs, dryer lint and poopy diapers and the other with milk jugs and milk jugs and maybe one Juicy Juice can...that one's a RECYCLING BIN. That means you do not put your old (and rather dangerously pokey) guitar strings and your strangely-ripped-to-shreds mail into it. I'm sorry the trashcans are the same size and have the same trashbags in them--this makes things difficult to distinguish. Maybe I'll have my Brownie troop fashion labels for them. We're looking for some service projects.
Posted by mryonker at 09:05 PM | Comments (1)
self-effacement
1. Eating leftover thick-crust ham pizza and orange juice for breakfast makes midday heartburn a sure thing.
2. Clark bars are gross (but to throw away a candy bar, even if only snack-sized, is unthinkable).
3. You cannot keep books from old lit classes: Sexing the Cherry, All the King's Men, Steven Millhouse (or Edwin Millhauser or WTFever), Orlando, Ulysses and nearly 25 more are all sitting in bags ready to go...? To the Rescue Mission. You cannot keep stuff. (You're keeping Borges and Faulkner! that's it).
4. Asking the neighbor kid whether he wants a plate of dinner or not is a waste of your breath. Just plate it up and send him to wash with the rest of them.
5. Calling your husband worthless on your blog, and then leaving it open on his machine, and then expecting him not to react or get mad (even though the post was REALLY about his redemption!!) is asking for domestic turbulence.
6. When carpet is removed, you actually have to BUY something else to put in its place. (It's gonna be laminate).
7. After you run 13 miles, and you're hurting and hurting, and your neighbor knocks on the door the next day to ask if you want to run, and you're proud and more afraid of being called a wussy than you are of injury, you are a dumbass and say "Sure, I'll be over in an hour."
8. When the neighbor kid leaves his (filthy, nasty) socks in your house, you are afraid that returning them without laundering them reflects poorly on you.
9. You watch _Desperate Housewives_ with wicked shame, secretly envying the perfect redhead's domestic flair.
10. The best way to forget you're supposed to be preparing to give a mini-talk on your current research project during a program colloquium in two days: blog.
Posted by mryonker at 05:38 PM | Comments (2)