I am writing two assignments at once. Being ADD has never been a problem for me. I am listening to my kids fight - it was very quiet in the house five minutes ago, but now it is very noisy. Being ADD has never been a problem for me.
One assignment is essentially finished, and is comparatively short (500 words). That is a huge problem for me. It takes me more words to introduce myself. I like to write lots of words but I do not like to cut them. So I write several hundred words over the limit, then I cry and snivel and simplify my lovely complicated sentence structures to lose words one by painful one.
The other assignment is 1500 words. I like that length - it is possible for me to stretch my arms in that space and say things the way I want to say them. I like to let a sentence meander and expand and get to know itself. However, the assignment is a case study, which is neither interesting nor difficult enough to capture my competitive nature. Because it is business writing, the assignment needs to be focused, compactly written, well defined, and obsessively organized and referenced.
Oh dear.
So I am writing this blog to propose my NEW blog: Dark Knit of the Soul. A knitting blog. Where people can post their weird knitting projects that make no sense and couldn't possibly be worn by normal people. Weirdly, no one else has used this blog name (well, it surprises me!), so I will be in on the ground floor at least.
Of course, there are lots of great sites where people post their oddly formed projects.
But the name is ALL MINE!
Okay, time to get back to my assignments.
ADD is sometimes a problem for me.
I guess.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Isn't it odd
that people I meet online, or in books, or in music, are sometimes more real to me than the people I say hello to every day?
I spend a lot of time online, I admit, and some pundits and many parents warn that millenials (a term for children entering college age during the 'new millenium') are becoming disassociative - separating themselves from the 'real world' and connecting only to people online, to people who may 'not be what they seem to be'.
I am the mother of four millenials and I spend as much or more time online as they do. And I am connected to people online, through Facebook, Twitter, LiveJournal, and GoogleReader, because we have some interest or hobby in common, like my writing group or choir discussion group, or because I admire their work, like Neil Gaiman and Stephen Fry, or have been introduced to their work by said admired people, like Zoe Keating. I follow the RSA in Britain, where smart people talk about things I know nothing about, and where other smart people talk about things I am passionate about, and I follow Smartbitchestrashybooks, where smart people (mostly women) talk about life and love and romance novels and sometimes about men's bodies. I laugh at Cakewrecks and squee at steampunk on Epbot, and sometimes I get an email from this totally obscure band that no one's really heard of, but I found out about them after one of their songs was played on this show I like...
At work, I pull staples out of papers.
Online, I am a writer who is followed by more than one hundred readers from all over the world, including at least one from the United Arab Emirates. At one point, I was publishing several times a week, and I heard from up to 20 people a day, asking why I had written that, or how was this going to end, or couldn't I just put the guys in cowboy hats, or why do I write like an American but spell like a British writer?
At work, I answer the phone and talk to people who need answers I don't have to questions they don't know how to ask.
Online, I get to participate in something bigger than myself - I can step out and join a million people standing for democracy in Egypt, or find a better way to prepare dandelion leaves so my children will eat them, or share a factoid with my cousin's 16 year-old daughter whom I have only met a few times but feel connected to when I see her drawings and she 'likes' my link.
At work, if I do it right, no one notices. And if I get it wrong, everyone does.
Online, I can be whatever I want. I can say whatever I want. I can write whatever I want.
Okay, I can do most of that IRL as well. I'm nearly 50 - I don't care what people think of me as much as I used to.
But online, I can reach out and ask a question and follow a trail and see where it goes. I can look up the strangest fact I can think of and find out something even weirder in a couple of clicks. I can find people and follow them and see what they are interested in. Do you know started following me on Twitter? Chris Garver. From Miami Ink. (I think he'll stop soon, because I'm boring.) But how cool is that? For a few days, I was connected with a tv star, who is also an amazing artist, not that I would ever let him touch me with his needle.
How, you might ask, did a big-time, bad-ass tattoo artist from Miami connect with an small-time, mother-of-four administrative assistant living in Vancouver?
Well, I could tell you. But that would be no fun. Tell you what. See if you can figure it out. Go on. It's all there. Just... follow the trail.
I spend a lot of time online, I admit, and some pundits and many parents warn that millenials (a term for children entering college age during the 'new millenium') are becoming disassociative - separating themselves from the 'real world' and connecting only to people online, to people who may 'not be what they seem to be'.
I am the mother of four millenials and I spend as much or more time online as they do. And I am connected to people online, through Facebook, Twitter, LiveJournal, and GoogleReader, because we have some interest or hobby in common, like my writing group or choir discussion group, or because I admire their work, like Neil Gaiman and Stephen Fry, or have been introduced to their work by said admired people, like Zoe Keating. I follow the RSA in Britain, where smart people talk about things I know nothing about, and where other smart people talk about things I am passionate about, and I follow Smartbitchestrashybooks, where smart people (mostly women) talk about life and love and romance novels and sometimes about men's bodies. I laugh at Cakewrecks and squee at steampunk on Epbot, and sometimes I get an email from this totally obscure band that no one's really heard of, but I found out about them after one of their songs was played on this show I like...
At work, I pull staples out of papers.
Online, I am a writer who is followed by more than one hundred readers from all over the world, including at least one from the United Arab Emirates. At one point, I was publishing several times a week, and I heard from up to 20 people a day, asking why I had written that, or how was this going to end, or couldn't I just put the guys in cowboy hats, or why do I write like an American but spell like a British writer?
At work, I answer the phone and talk to people who need answers I don't have to questions they don't know how to ask.
Online, I get to participate in something bigger than myself - I can step out and join a million people standing for democracy in Egypt, or find a better way to prepare dandelion leaves so my children will eat them, or share a factoid with my cousin's 16 year-old daughter whom I have only met a few times but feel connected to when I see her drawings and she 'likes' my link.
At work, if I do it right, no one notices. And if I get it wrong, everyone does.
Online, I can be whatever I want. I can say whatever I want. I can write whatever I want.
Okay, I can do most of that IRL as well. I'm nearly 50 - I don't care what people think of me as much as I used to.
But online, I can reach out and ask a question and follow a trail and see where it goes. I can look up the strangest fact I can think of and find out something even weirder in a couple of clicks. I can find people and follow them and see what they are interested in. Do you know started following me on Twitter? Chris Garver. From Miami Ink. (I think he'll stop soon, because I'm boring.) But how cool is that? For a few days, I was connected with a tv star, who is also an amazing artist, not that I would ever let him touch me with his needle.
How, you might ask, did a big-time, bad-ass tattoo artist from Miami connect with an small-time, mother-of-four administrative assistant living in Vancouver?
Well, I could tell you. But that would be no fun. Tell you what. See if you can figure it out. Go on. It's all there. Just... follow the trail.
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