Strategies for Living

A couple of weeks ago I decided it would be a good idea to keep a notebook in the car that I can write in when the mood strikes, as it sometimes does when I have leisure time away from the house.  I had to start a mileage log for tax purposes anyway, so I chose a notebook I could use for both purposes.

Yesterday, as I waited in the van for my friend to meet me for a late afternoon walk, I picked up that little notebook and jotted down my thoughts of the moment.  These had to do with a financial decision I had to make and some paperwork I had to fill out.  But while I jotted those thoughts down I noticed something.

It was really easy to focus long enough to write a quick page while I waited.  The key was that there was nothing else to do.  I thought back to college when I journaled all the time, and I realized that it was easy to journal then because there were so few distractions.  There were long hours or minutes between classes when I could sit down on a bench and write uninterupted, and there was no tantalizing internet access, or ipod, or housework to distract me.  This information could be useful, if I can only figure out how.

Obviously writing cannot be high on my list of priorities at this time.  I do have a family to care for.  But it's also true that writing does matter.  It's something to think about.

Names, Names, Need a New Name

I want to change the name of my blog again.  I'm just not ver satisfied with this current one:

Practice Room: Making Use of the Madness,

although most days that is exactly what I am doing.

The old name was more satisfying, though no longer accurate, as I have two sons instead of one.  And I am happy to have two.

It's funny to think that not long ago I wondered still what Isaac was going to be like, because he was quiet and seemed contemplative, and as my father-in-law observed, he seemed to be examining the world around him, trying to figure out what to make of it.  Now he dives right in.  He's become noisy, and curious and somewhat mischeivious.  He gets into absolutely everything, and as my friend Alina says, he's quiet while he's doing it so that you'd never figure out what was happening if you couldn't get eyes on him immediately.  He likes to jump into mud holes.  He showed no fear of my Aunt's cat even after it scratched him.  He climbs up on the dining room table whenever there's anything up there that looks even slightly interesting.

He's awefully cute.  So is his big brother.

My mother came by and cut their hair today, something I had not yet been brave enough to do myself.  She did an excellent job for not having cut a small, wiggling child's hair in at least fifteen years.

The Long Goodbye...No more room in my life for new shows

I know this sounds funny, because I really do enjoy television, but I'd be glad if several of the television shows I've been watching over the past four years would be canceled.  Relieved even.  When I get on Hulu and look at my queue these days I feel oppressed by the accumulation.  The one show I don't want to be canceled I feel quite sure will be: Haven.  Hulu and Syfy have recently put the show on a 30 day schedule, which means that new episodes won't be made available for streaming until 30 days after they have aired.  The only television show I've watched on the air in a long while is Lost, so you'll understand why this might be difficult for me.  At least the end is in sight.  Soon I will be completely free of broadcast tv as other things in our lives become so much more important.  Can't I give it up easily?  No, as a matter of fact, I can't.  But perhaps I will get to go another three or more years without watching any tv, before the deathly cycle starts all over again.  Then movies will be the thing once more.  There's nothing to be done except to wait and see.

TV ruminations

I think about so many things, on a daily basis, but when I get on here and start to write, it all sort of drifts away, and all I can think of is the silly thing I thought about posting on facebook, as follows:

I considered skipping Desperate Housewives this season, but then I got on Hulu and saw the first five minutes of the season premiere and realized that I LOVE Eva Longoria Parker as Gabby.  I cannot miss her, and I really don't quite know why.  I think it may be because she is Latina.  And because of her profile (the balance of her eyes, nose and chin, because even if I can't analyze them, I recognize these things), and the sound of her voice.  And her character is likeable, even if rather shallow.  And I like her, even though I'm not a girly girl, I really like Gabby.  Wierd.

And then I remembered where I'd seen Mae Whitman before.  I just looked her up on my favorite website, IMDB.com, to confirm.  She was on Arrested Devlopment as George-Michael's grilfriend, Ann Viel, in the two seasons following the first.  I thought of her because there was an episode where she was throwing rotten fruit at the home of Marc Cherry, and because I've been watching Parenthood too.  Yes, I watch these shows, and no, I'm not proud of it.

And of course Mae Whitman made me think of Portia de Rossi, and a character named Rob Loblaw (try saying it ten times fast), and this is an example of how the human mind works, especially the human mind that has spent the past five years watching mass quantities of tv.  Is internet television a blessing or a curse?  You tell me.  I have, in fact, become very good at saying Rob Loblaw ten times  fast, but only because of diligent practice.

Computers, video streaming, etc.

We bought a new laptop computer, and Michael and I have traded so that I am now using the new Dell laptop, while he has taken over the less new Acer.  This seems to work out well for the both of us as he needs the wider screen for web design, and I need the better speakers for what I do, watch a lot of tv.  Actually I have less time for tv lately, which is a good thing. 

I like the smaller screen, smaller keypad, and lighter weight of the Dell, which makes it ever the slightly more portable.  I might take this one with me to the coffee shop, if I ever decided it was worthwhile to write there. I like that it doesn't have any crud under the buttons yet.  And I like that it's cover is blue.  It helps too, since we now need an additional laptop, we already own this one.

Michael bought the Dell laptop almost by mistake.  We were trying to decide whether or not to send it back, when the window of opportunity for that possibility closed.  We thought about selling it on ebay. Now we have a reason to keep it. 

[Parker is momentarily standing in the hallway at 9:15 p.m. trying to convince Michael that he couldn't possibly sleep in his own room tonight.  It would be cuter if he hadn't already been in bed for over an hour and a half.]

As far as the television is concerned, I am practically run over now that the networks have picked up their Fall seasons.  The ability to time-shift viewing patterns is wonderful.  The way the interesting television shows begin to pile up in my Hulu queue is less wonderful.  Because I'm one of those people who actually like television.  Not everyone who watches it does, you know.  Not only do I like it, but I am also usually (if not always) an active viewer of television.  I like movies too.  My mom points out that I don't have to watch them, but don't I?  Is it enough to pretend that I won't pick up any new ones?  Who am I kidding?

Isaac's Antics, No Surprises

Things Isaac threw into the bathtub while I was taking a shower this morning:

my pajamas
several dried out wash cloths that hadn't yet made it to the laundry basket
an almost full bottle of shampoo

I'm glad he didn't notice my Timex watch, which was sitting out on the back of the toilet right within his reach.  We can't close the door to the bathroom just now, can't even jam it shut with out placing a heavy object in front of it, and Isaac has an epic love for throwing things into the toilet, the tub, and the fireplace, I've decided.

Repair Bear, We Hope

A few days ago I posted on facebook that Isaac had thrown his bear into the toilet.  This morning, from a seated position on the floor, in my husband's lap, Isaac lobbed his brother's bear across the room and into the toilet.  Yes, it's true that the bear now smells of pee, but I can't just throw it in the washing machine and here's the reason why.

A few days ago Parker's bear began hemmoraging filling beads from a hole in it's lower back.  This bear is so loved that he has been stitched up numerous times already, and there are runs like you'd get in panty hose all over his back.  His fur is long gone, as is the brown neck ribbon that Parker used to pull at with is teeth.  My husband is now attempting to restuff the bear with filling beads using a drinking straw, which works much better than the paper funnel he originally fashioned.

My son cannot sleep all night without his bear.  He's done it exactly once.  The second time we tried it he woke up in the night looking for his bear.  We are not ready to try the experiment again so soon.  When he finishes the refilling, we'll sew up the hole using travel sewing kit thread.  Then I'll stick him in a lingerie bag and throw him in the washing machine using Tide with Bleach (because that is what I have) and cold water.  I plan to repair the bear with a scrap of fabric held on with semi-permenant fabric glue.  I'm not exactly the patch and mend type, which is why Michael is doing the sewing, and I'll be using whatever fabric I can scavenge.  I'll have to figure out a way to cut the fabric in whatever odd shape is required for fit, keep the fabric from unravelling, and convince Parker not to pull the fabric away with his fingers.  My genius idea for repairing the bear on Thursday was with masking tape.  We really seem to know what we're doing here, don't we?

Kelly LOVES Books

I used to read this blog called Amy Loves Books until the author really started irritating me.  It was a personality issue I think.  But though I decided I didn't like her personally, I admit that I really enjoyed, and was inspired by, her writing.  She must have had something to do with my starting my very own blog.  She was the first ever blogger who I ever followed regularly.  She had an excellent set of posts describing her experience with post-partum depression.

I once commented to her that I thought it was much more interesting to read about what people actually were reading rather than what they would recommend for other to read.  I enjoy reading the occasional trashy novel myself, and I think that fact should humanize me somewhat for those who might be tempted to think I am too serious.  Not that I've read any trashy novels in a while.

I'll tell you what I am reading now, and someday I'll even share what else is on my bookshelf.

I have this awful tendancy to be reading three or four books at once, while simultaneously thinking of six or seven other books I would like to read.  This creates plenty of problems for me.  A typical problem is that I lose track of what in fact I am supposedly reading.

Right now I am reading:

The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodges Burnette.  I read this book when I was young (whatever that means), and I knew that I loved it, but I certainly didn't remember why.  I wondered what sort of power such a book might have now that I'm an adult.  The answer is that it is a wonderful, glorious, inspiring book.  It makes me want to have a garden of my own.  It makes me want to spend lots and lots of time outside.  I am troubled slightly by the racism of the period, but I have to lay that aside, because the rest of the book is spledid.  It makes you want to jump rope, and live an exceedingly healthy life.  Perhaps it romanticizes the purity and power of children to make the grown-up world right, but if it does, while I am reading it, I simply do not care.  I ordered the Norton Critical Edition because I wanted access to the historical information, as well as the critical essays, but I cannot promise that I'll read them before my neighbor's book club meets.

(And of course I wonder what we'll read next.  I have The Brothers Karamzov on my shelf, waiting to be read, but I've also borrowed some Walker Percy fiction from Patrick and Alina, and the latest Diana Gabaldon from my neighbor who has the book club.  I want to read Moby Dick eventually.  I'm less into fiction than usual at the moment, however.)

Studies in Words by C.S. Lewis.  This book is pure linguistics, and I think I've been working on it for a month already.  Honestly it's a bit beyond my comprehension, but it is an enjoyable experience reading some of Lewis's non-religious critical work.  The book is all about the meanings of words, and the ways that they have been used over time.  There's a difference between a word's meaning sometimes and the authorial meaning.  Lewis also indicates something he calls the dangerous meaning of a word, which is a meaning recognized by current readers that was unlikely to exist in the author's time, and the meaning with which a word is most likely to be misimbued. (This sort of writing perhaps makes me sound like an overeducated snob, but it is true that I am interested in such things, and reading this book has awakened me to the treachery of redefining words according to their accepted meanings.  It also makes me realize that I don't always truly know what a word means,even if I have used it a hundred times.)

(I have to go on facebook to see what else I am meant to be reading just now.  And this is one of the reasons why I keep a record on Visual Bookshelf.)

Fear and Trembling by Kierkegaard.  This is a wonderful book and I am absolutely in love with it.  Kierkegaard looks at the story of Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac in the book of Genesis from every possible angle, and in this book he discusses the nature of faith.  I picked the book up because I have this question about what the scriptures mean when they refer to fear of the Lord.  I don't know whether Fear and Trembling will answer that question or not, but it does talk about what it means to live this life in faith, a subject with which I happen to be confronted immediately.  I have a question now, which I asked my husband just the other night.  Does appropriate fear of the Lord preclude fearing His works, or actions?  If anyone reading this has an answer to this question I would be grateful.

Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman, which is a Bible Study by Beth Moore. I've never before done a Beth Moore Bible study, so this is quite a  new experience for me.  A friend invited me to participate in one being held at First United Methodist downtown, and I agreed for several reasons. I like how Beth Moore takes an inductive study method, and breaks it down (or slows it down) into manageable parts for the lay reader.  This far (in week 1) I have enjoyed doing the study immensely, though I have never yet attended a Bible Study meeting at First United Methodist, for reasons of children's health, and even though I don't always agree with Moore's points of emphasis.  I borrowed an Esther commentary from my brother-in-law Wednesday night to supplement the study.

Unofficially I am also reading How to Study Your Bible by Kay Arthur, God Calling by "the two listeners" and publised by A.T. Russell, and I'm studying Esther and Hebrews (for Sunday School) on my own using The Inductive International Study Bible, in which the guiding materials were provided by Kay Arthur.  I've been doing lots and lots of spiritual reading and study recently, and today I found out one of the reasons why, which I may share with my readers ("if any," to quote one of my son Isaac's favorite movies, "The Wizard of Oz.") eventually.  Besides this I am trying to finish my reading of the Bible, and re-read the New Testament by the end of the year.

This is not like me normally, I swear.  There is so much I want to learn, which is a subject I will embark upon at a later date.  For now, Michael is waiting for me to watch a particular program with him before bed.

A Bit of Metablogging to Jumpstart the Process

This is what I call "metablogging." It's basically writing about blogging, and the only way that I've ever been able to get started. When I first started this blog, back in the October after my now four year old son was born, I started with metablogging. I talked about how hard it was to get started, how hard it was to figure out what I should be writing about. Well, here I am, almost three years later, wondering how to get started. I've hardly been able to write at all since before my 21 month old son was born.
 I keep telling people: It's been hard to write even a basic email for months and months and months. My friend Alina assures me that it's the left-over hormones from pregnancy and breastfeeding that have done this to me. Ever since she told me that, I suppose I've used it as an excuse for not getting started. I've tried posting to the blog on numerous occasions, but I've been tired, or sleep-deprived, or maybe only too easily frustrated to get in there and do it.

I've tried writing things that weren't meant for publication. I've tried taking down my thoughts as they came to me. One morning I typed up a report of sorts concerning an experiment in prayer I was undertaking, but it all came to nothing.

A few days ago, my cousin, who is a successful freelance writer, posted something about a website where you can to post 750 words of freewriting. It's a tool for writers to sort of warm themselves up for the real work that is supposed to fill their day. I'm unwilling to subscribe to the service, because I have some unanswered questions about it, but the idea is imminently sound, and at some point I will probably succumb. It's the same sort of thing Peter Elbow promotes. Peter Elbow, whose book Everyone Can Write: Essays Toward a Hopeful Theory of Writing and Teaching Writing, I recently read, is a major advocate of the freewriting exercise, the premise being that successful writers need to do lots and lots of writing, not all of it anxiety ridden. He also argues that college students need low stakes outlets for writing, so that it becomes an habit and not merely an exercise in requirement. There are some lovely quotes from Elbow which I shared on facebook. Maybe I should go back and repost them here, where they can be read and remembered.

Note:  If you look back over my older posts you'll notice that the metablogging is always done in italics.  Something about that just makes me feel good.

Friends Help

A friend gave me a book and some verses yesterday, because I had asked her to help me memorize some things that would help with some difficulties I have been experiencing lately.  The first one really hit me, probably because I had never read it in quite that form before (or maybe I had only never noticed it at all, or applied it, etc.)

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  II Corinthians 4:16-17.

My Life Today

I'm sitting at the dining room table, trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to ignore the mess around me.  Here's a strategy.  If the mess is so hard to ignore, I could a) clean it all up before proceeding, b) absorb the mess so that it become something useful instead of a distraction, or c) describe and/or explain it.

There's a dying evergreen in the corner.  I can't actually tell by looking at it that it is dying.  It still look good from here, even if it is set in a plastic pot covered in Chrismas foil.  I say that it is dying because I know I haven't watered it in at least a week and a half.  It stands in line with a nebulizer that should have been returned to my friend Linda two or three weeks ago, three bananas that are quickly ripening and that I hope I won't have to throw away, and a wooden bowl, filled with nectarines and oranges.  The bowl has been dropped and broken more than once.  This last time we didn't even bother to try and glue it back together.  The broken piece has been reinserted, but will not stay.

Isaac is sleeping in the Pack N Play in my bedroom, and Parker has come to the dining room table to beg for Cinnamon Roll flavored oatmeal, and dried fruit.  Now he whines because the pantry is locked and he can't open it.  He has refused my offer of banana or raisins.  He doesn't want the peanut butter crackers I expect he will gladly accept later.  The dryer is running and I know that when it stops Isaac will wake up, which in this case is good, because I have to go to a bible study this morning if mostly for the sake of getting out of the house and spending some time with adults who have more finely tuned critical skills than this amazingly articulate three year old boy who I adore.

I have to get the words out and that is why I have chosen to write this way on a Thursday morning.

My valentines and birthday roses has wilted in their vases so I threw them away this morning.  There is still a vase of flowers in the middle of this table because the daisys in particular still look lovely.  I wish that I could have fresh flowers in the house all the time, but even if I had the money I probably wouldn't often spend it that way.  What this woman needs is a flower garden.  Though the idea appeals to me while I sit here dreaming about it with dearth of knowledge, every time I start to plan something tangible I become discouraged.  The last time my mom bought flowers for me to plan in front of my house, I waited until they had become sparse and leggy before asking Michael to plant them for me.  The sun baked them; they went unnourished by the willful application of water, and so they never were quite pretty and then they died.  My little rosemary plant died in the freezing winter cold.  The only flowers I have in my yard were planted by a previous owner, and have gone untended.  I got out there and did some weeding once, but the effort was short lived.  It occured to me last year that what I need is for someone to come to my house, tell me exactly what to plant and where, stand over me while I do it, and then train me in the care of specific flowers and shrubs.  My yard could be so pretty if only I felt sure that I knew what to do and how.

The rest of the things that surround me in this room are cereal bowles and toys, compact discs and receipts, trash I meant to throw away yesterday and my church's telphone directory.  There are books on the floor because Isaac enjoys pulling them from the shelves.  There are crayons and coloring pages because Parker has enjoyed doing a lot of coloring just lately.  There are things here that have been here far to long and really should be put away.  Sometimes I wonder if I am making any progress at all, but hey, I'm sitting here and I'm writing.  I've described the confusion of only one room in my house.

Parker is now working his way through the bonus features on the Book of Pooh DVD while he sits on the sofa in the living room.  Isaac is still sleeping, and I am writing.  Me writing anything, anything at all, is progress.

I have not reread this and it is probably full of errors and omissions, but I am publishing it anyway, because "publish or perish" is taking on a completely different meaning for me these days.

Actors: Job Acceptance and the Possible Alienation of the Fanbase

It's such a random thing to write about when I haven't published anything in months, but I've been thinking about Orlando Bloom the last few days.  It came up because when Michael was recovering from the stomach bug, he tried to watch *Pirates of the Carribean* (whatever the first one was called) with Parker while resting on the couch.  I was passing through the room and I commented, "I don't really like Orlando Bloom anymore."  Why?  I don't know.  I know nothing about him apart from the few movies I've seen.  I liked him okay when I had only ever seen him in *Lord of the Rings,* although at the time I thought he was a little too blonde, and perfect looking.

I think it was while watching *Elizabethtown* that I decided he was more annoying than attractive.  Though that may have only been his character.  I enjoyed the film well enough over all.  So I wonder...

Do you think that an actor takes an acceptable risk when agreeing to play an unlikeable character?  Is it likely to do harm to their career in any way?  My case in point is Orlando Bloom as Paris in the movie *Troy.* Paris is a completely and irredeemably unlikeable character, but someone has to play him.  Someone has to wreak the havoc and through their own ridiculously unreflective actions bring about the destruction of the city, right?  I wonder if my dislike of his work as an actor is actually colored by my experience of him in this one movie.  I also wonder if he deserves my respect for the fact that he was willing to take such a risk.