Katherine Mankiller

Feminist ramblings.

Preface: To those of you who think my URL is an indication of an agenda, please see here and be enlightened. Thank you.

Someone recently asked me how I became a feminist.

Let me set the scene for you. I'm ten years old, living in Ogden, Utah. My father is stationed at Hill Air Force Base, and I'm merrily exploring hitherto unimagined depths of unpopularity at Horace Mann Elementary. As near as I can tell, my English teacher has decided that the only way to maintain order in his class is to join in bullying me (What a pathetic admission of failure on his part!). I was raised Methodist, but in this atmosphere my Mom decides that the best way to deal with my social ills at school is to send me to Mormon Sunday school so I can fit in. (Gag!)

This is both the year that I discovered Ursula K. Le Guin--especially The Left Hand of Darkness and The Dispossessed, my first exposure to feminism--and the year someone told me I couldn't go to heaven unless my husband took me.

Apparently, the Methodists are wifty liberals, 'cause they were ordaining women ministers in the 1950s. So, you know. The Mormon Sunday school thing was kind of a bust, and as for the husband thing? Not just no, hell no. Luckily, I had the Ogden Public Library and their young adult section to keep me company in my heresy.

After that, we moved to Germany. European girls can grocery shop topless if they feel like it. I think it's dumb that I can't, but I also have no desire to take my top off in public because I'm a product of my culture. Dumb or not, I don't want to show you my tits. ;)

Germany is also where I discovered Star Trek. Armed Forces Network showed it on prime time, Thursdays at 7pm if I recall correctly. I always identified with Spock because he was the outsider. And A Wrinkle in Time--I read that one over and over and over. I loved Meg because she was the outcast, but she was also an awesome math chick. And the book was about her.

So, grrls: what books/movies/TV shows were extra awesome to you when you were young/changed you/saved your sanity? Why?

So, where've you been, Katherine?

Pretty much working, exercising, and writing my novel. And nagging my sister to put dog pictures on Flickr. I think the world needs more pet pictures, don't you? Isn't that an Avenue Q song? "The Internet is for Pet Pictures"?

Current novel wordcount: 48,828. We've made it to the city, where lots of important things happen. Ooh, I need to tweak my outline spreadsheet to match some of the changes in the text outline. A whole bunch of unplanned characters showed up in Chapter Ten and have become important, and need to be reflected in the outline.

ebook fever!

I just subscribed to Asimov's as an ebook from fictionwise.

See, I love Asimov's, but I hate the way all those little digest-sized books start to cover every available surface of my home. This is much better, because they just go onto my PDA and are there for me any time I find myself in need of something good to read.

In other news, Scalzi has links to more free ebook goodness.

Man assaults woman. She gets in trouble.

A man sits next to a woman on a plane. He spreads his legs, pressing them up against her. She complains. He tells her, "You're a big girl." She says, "Don't fucking talk to me like that." He grabs her arm and threatens, "I'm going to slap you in your mouth."

Whom do you think gets lectured to at length by the flight attendant, laughed at, and threatened with removal from the plane for "attacking" another passenger, and forbidden to discuss the situation with other passengers? Would you believe she does?

How about if I tell you he's white and she isn't?

Hmmm, that's interesting.

Apparently, my comment sp@mmers are offering me links to pictures of garden implements. One even offered garden implements with cats. Intoxicated cats.

How can I ever resist? *deletes*

Why are women so gosh-darned unfriendly sometimes?

Over here we have a fellow that I assume is well-intentioned wondering why women are so gosh-darned unfriendly when strange men walk up to them at the airport. Another man in the comments relates that women sometimes cross the street to get away from him and wonders what's up with that. Another was outraged that a woman told him, "Go away, I have a boyfriend," when he was just trying to tell her she left her cellphone on top of her car.

I can't speak for Australian women (the link is on an Australian server), but one out of every six American women has been the victim of sexual assault during her lifetime (source: RAINN). The usual recommendations to avoid being one of the one in six include not talking to strange men, not wandering around alone in bad parts of town, not dressing well (I have that one down pat, myself--picture jeans, a t-shirt that says, "No, I will not fix your computer," and hooray that it's black because then you can't see that I spilled coffee on it this morning, and what is this makeup thing of which you speak?), etc. If you're insulted that someone thinks you're a "strange man" they shouldn't talk to when you're just trying to be friendly or helpful, consider that 38% of victims are raped by a friend or acquaintance, four in ten assaults take place in the victim's own home, and two in ten take place at a friend or acquaintance's home (source: RAINN). If a woman has to be afraid of that nice guy Bob in accounting, or the guy she's going on a date with tonight, why should she trust a total stranger?

No, I'm sorry, you can't have it both ways. Either rape is a woman's problem and the only way to avoid it is to consider half the human race a potential assailant who is bigger and heavier than you are, or women can be friendly to strange men who walk up to them and try to sell them things or tell them they've left their cellphone on top of their car. Those are mutually exclusive situations, sorry. It's very likely that you're not a rapist, but she has no way of knowing that.

RAINN has things men can do to help here. But if you're going to be friendly, try to be friendly in social situations where there are other people around, like your local LUG or work. Don't corner women alone in an isolated place like a parking garage and be friendly. We have it drummed into our heads from an early age that that's a prelude to assault.

Unwelcome Bodies, by Jennifer Pelland

This anthology contains several stories I really love, including "Big Sister/Little Sister," "Captive Girl," and "The Last Stand of the Elephant Man." I'm sure I'll love the others just as much.

Jennifer Pelland is made of awesome. Therefore, it's only logical that her anthology will also be made of awesome. Go, click, buy. You know you want it!

Winter Driving Advice for Southerners

Since Atlanta has decided to be freakish and have winter weather, and since I know I have readers from the frozen north, I thought I'd share my meager knowledge and hope for comments.

Snow:

When I was moving to Virginia, I asked my Mom for driving in the snow advice. (She's from Michigan.) She said, "Just remember that you can never use your brakes, ever, for any reason, and you'll be fine." I interpreted this as meaning I should slow the fuck down and try to coast to a stop. It seemed to work. Do remember, however, that your fellow drivers may not have the benefits of my mother's wisdom and avoid them accordingly.

Ice:

My mother's advice times ten. If the ground is a solid sheet of ice you can't walk on, stay home. No one can drive on that shit, and you don't need eggs and milk that badly. Besides, they're already sold out.

Visibility:

Bad visibility scares the crap out of me. If it's slippery you can slow down, but if you can't see, you can't see.

Ice Scrapers:

These probably can't be had south of the Mason-Dixon line. My mother always used a particularly hated credit card.

The floor is now open for comments, but please remember that we have no snow plows and our "sand trucks" are pickups with sand, shovels, and two DOT guys in the back.

There are times when I love working for a college.

This is one of them. I was last at work on December 21. I'm not expected back until after New Year's.

You may now hate me. ;)

Sadly, this is not ending up being insane amounts of writing and working out. But I had a very busy year, and probably need the rest. I'm doing things like watching Frida for the billionth time instead.

My cats are in stink heaven. They think I've finally come to my senses and realized that working thing is a terrible idea. Now, if I would just forget that writing business and spend less time on my laptop goofing off, all would be well. I should devote myself to them as is their due. In fact, a couple have velcroed themselves to each outer thigh, which is nice because they're furry and warm.

Instead of writing, I'm pondering the impending death of my PDA, and whether or not I need a new cellphone. These are clearly burning issues that must be pondered at length. Clearly.

Right now, however, the burning issue is my bed, and how it's managing without me.

What we did for Nondenominational Winter Holiday.

I don't know why, but I'm feeling down on secular Christmas this year. Perhaps it's residual bad-taste-in-mouth from the lame, trumped-up "War on Christmas" crap from a few years ago. Maybe it's that the S.O. and I are agnostic. Maybe it's that several of my coworkers are Jewish, Muslim, or Pagan and I've been feeling like secular Christmas--that commercialized hell of Santa and Rudolph and buy now for only $19.99!--that allegedly makes Christmas something religious minorities can celebrate, too, just makes quite a few of them feel more left out.

That's not the same thing as being down on religious Christmas, by the way. I don't celebrate it, since I'm agnostic, but y'all have a Merry one if you are so inclined.

Now that all that's out of the way...

You might assume that since my S.O. is a Physics major and I was all wifty liberal arts before accidentally falling into computers that he'd be more hard-core than I am. You'd be wrong. I'm the radical in the family. In fact, when we were discussing whether or not we would commit matrimony, I was talking about all the things I didn't want: No God talk. No giving away the bride. No promises to obey, for fuck's sake. And no rings--stupid enforced patriarchal capitalist bullshit. And then he started to sulk, because by $DEITY, my boy wants a ring. He doesn't care if I wear one or not, but he wants one. He even showed me the matching ones he'd picked out. And then I sighed and relented on the grounds that the ones he picked were fairly cool and not expensive. But then we didn't commit matrimony after all, hooray!

Um. Yeah. I'm not always an easy woman to live with. I also shriek with horror when the doctor's office leaves me voicemail calling me "Mrs." Seriously, it sounds like someone stomped on a squeaky rubber duck or something. Yeah, I digress. Moving right along.

Anyway. The S.O. is also more of a secular Christmas traditionalist. I suggested skipping it this year and he started to pout, so help me. Then I suggested an alternate celebration where we stand outside all night on the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, and shout, "Where's the fucking sun?" He said that would make us wildly unpopular with the neighbors. Killjoy. We compromised by opening our gifts on the Winter Solstice, reserving the 25th for overeating.

You'll note that I didn't tell anyone not to buy me presents, though. I suppose my greed outweighs my general agnostic grumpiness. In fact, I'm already deciding what I want to spend my Mom's Christmas check on, and considering a new cellphone. Merry Consumermas to you, too!

My Muslim coworker wished me a "Happy, um, winter vacation." I couldn't have said it better myself.

Lakota secede from US

Oh. My. God.

WASHINGTON (AFP) -- The Lakota Indians, who gave the world legendary warriors Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, have withdrawn from treaties with the United States, leaders said Wednesday.

"We are no longer citizens of the United States of America and all those who live in the five-state area that encompasses our country are free to join us," long-time Indian rights activist Russell Means told a handful of reporters and a delegation from the Bolivian embassy, gathered in a church in a run-down neighborhood of Washington for a news conference.

A delegation of Lakota leaders delivered a message to the State Department on Monday, announcing they were unilaterally withdrawing from treaties they signed with the federal government of the United States, some of them more than 150 years old.

They also visited the Bolivian, Chilean, South African and Venezuelan embassies, and will continue on their diplomatic mission and take it overseas in the coming weeks and months, they told the news conference.

I'm so excited, and a little bit anxious, and oh my God I love them for doing this.

Woe is me!

Pity me, for I am a World of Warcrack widow.

Dude, get some help.

Dear Jerk in the Red Pickup,

I admit it. I'm unsettled. Not so much by the fact that you tailgated us for over five miles, but that you did so ranting and huddling up in the corner of the cab with your fist over your forehead, hunching and swaying. If you really wanted around us there were two open lanes to your right. Since you didn't pass us, I can only assume that on some level you enjoyed being oppressed by our driving the speed limit.

I think it's time for new meds. Seriously.

By the way, I had my cellphone out to take pictures if you followed us to our destination, intending to spash them all over flickr to be used as evidence against you, if necessary. So I'm glad you didn't go there, for both our sakes.

No Love,
Me

What I did for Thanksgiving

What I did for Thanksgiving:

• Tofurkey with brother-in-common-law et al.
• Alice's Restaurant.
• Addams Family Values, with cheering during Wednesday's speech.
• Too. Much. Food!

Roll me to the car, I'm done!

Happy Thingy!

Happy "The Indians bailed the settlers' asses out, and all they got was this lousy smallpox!" day.

I don't really hate Thanksgiving, even though I sometimes feel like I should. I mean, it's basically a holiday to celebrate gluttony. Just don't get me started on Columbus Day.

Excuse me, but I have to go perform the most important Thanksgiving tradition--listen to Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant."

Pollen terror!

This? This is pollen. On my car. Granted, it's the one we don't drive as often, but still.

I didn't think anyone would believe me if I didn't offer photographic proof.

My sister is in town, hooray!

Things I've learned while my sister is in town:

1. Some vague concept of how fencing is scored.
2. The Georgia Aquarium is cool.
3. I don't like Lipton tea. I think I'll stick with Tazo.
4. It's really hard to edit after walking around for several hours. I'm falling behind on NaNoEdMo. There'll have to be some catching up next weekend, most likely.

Happy New Year!

May all y'all have a wonderful 2007.

New Year's Resolutions

Yes, it's the obligatory New Year's resolutions post! I'm sure you can hardly wash. Yay!

• Write more. I did poorly with the short story deadlines, but maybe they were too short. One short story a month, excepting March, June, and November, which I'm going to set aside for other writing.
• NaNoEdMo. It looks like the site is dead, Jim. That doesn't mean I can't set aside March for editing my NaNoWriMo novel.
• Script Frenzy! Rather than try to write a script for the Austin Film Festival, I'll do NaNoWriMo's new screenwriting challenge. That'll give me time to edit properly. I mean, I sent Double Feature off to Austin while it was still lying around the Critters queue. That's no good.
• NaNoWriMo. I probably want to do that again next year.
• I also want to finish Lizardfic and Hurricane Maria.

In other news, I just tossed a story into the Critters queue. A sample:

The Wasicu cities still exist, rising up out of the turf. When the buffalo herds run across the plain, the towers shake and glass falls out of them.

Kicking Horse walks between the towers. He knows that under the soft, tall grass lie the bones of Wasicu. He's not afraid of ghosts--helpful ancestors teach the children to hunt and fish, gather herbs, speak their own language--but the evil dead are another thing. Some of these Wasicu were women and children, but some of them were bad men. He wouldn't come at all if he weren't looking for Snow Deer.

Oh, yeah. And continue to shrink. (35 pounds so far; go me!)

My favorite Christmas tree past...

One year, not too long after my parents had divorced, my mother tearfully announced that there would be no Christmas this year and stormed off to work. No money, you see.

It just so happened that my mother also used to rescue half-dead plants from the office and nurse them back to health. One of these was a Norfolk Island Pine we called "Helicopter." It had been so underwatered that it had lost all of its branches except for a sad little circle at the top of a bare four-foot trunk, hence the name.

My sister and I got it into our heads to decorate Helicopter for Christmas.

We headed down to the garage and pulled out the boxes of Christmas ornaments. We used only the smallest Christmas tree balls on his delicate branches, and wound tinsel around his poor naked trunk. We wound the tinsel out the branches in a spiral. It was a very giggly afternoon, and you should have heard my mother laugh when she came home.

Mattress Lust

I've figured out what I want to buy with some future novel or screenplay check: a Tempurpedic. Mmmm, mattress lust.

Yes, we're mattress shopping.

Of course, what I'll probabably spend said hypothetical novel or screenplay check on is:

1. IRA (to legal limit)
2. Taxes
3. Savings

Pesky reality. Who needs it?

We've already fallen victim to the dreaded Cheapskate Acceleration Tactics. Maybe we should tell the salesguy to go away until we actually want him.

Brian is hot shit!

His story, "The Girl with the Killer Eyes," will appear in The Best of Jim Baen's Universe 2006 as well as Jim Baen's Universe issue 3. Check it out.

So, gee, Katherine, where've you been?

Getting my gallbladder hacked out. I'd hoped, in my naïevete, to get some writing done in the week off work. But no. I also thought that I'd finish an involved novel critique I'm doing for someone, and that was also Not Meant To Be. I should get crackin' on that, actually.

In nerd news, I upgraded the SO's Movable Type installation.

Complications Ensue

Um. Yeah. Laptop died.

I kind of took the opportunity to go linux. Which means I had to import the script into Celtx, which I just don't love as much as Final Draft. I'll probably try to get Final Draft to work under wine as soon as I fix the video card, which is a bit cranky. Cranky video cards are common to my Debian experience. Everything else seems to work (well, I haven't tried the modem, but...), including wireless. Yay, wireless! MadWifi is my friend.

I managed to get the old laptop to boot enough to pull the last bit of data off, but I'd really rather not use that machine as a primary writing machine any more. It just isn't reliable.

I'd lost maybe a page or two of the script, but recovered that file as well. The question is whether or not I want to import that into Celtx as well. My first thought is, "*facepalm!*" so...

Things I need to do this weekend.

Things I need to do this weekend:

• Work on script.
• Critters critique.
• Work on script some more.
• Buy groceries.
• Pay bills.
• Register for Dragoncon and Ann Crispin writing workshop.
• Work on script even more.
• Mow lawn.

Thing I might do for fun this weekend:

• Buy yarn for Navajo Loom.

The evil middles.

I seem to have a bad case of script middle blues. I'm left trying to figure out what else I can do to these poor characters. On the up side, I'm on page 48, so I'm well into it. I just need more. More more more.

A lightning strike appears to have taken out the cable modem, TV, DVD player, etc. I suggested, in a fit of reductivism, that we should just not have a TV and get cheap DSL and watch DVDs and Galactica on our laptops. Brian doesn't like that idea. Granted, it doesn't solve the new Doctor Who problem (we could get Galactica through iTunes), but TVs are expensive. My next suggestion of a cheap, tiny TV was met with horror and despair.

We'll figure something out.

Sink Archeology

I just loaded every dish that ever existed into my dishwasher and ran it.

No, really. Every dish. Ever. We broke into the neighbors' houses and used their dishes and piled them up in our sink. Big medieval stoneware jugs, Greek and Roman pottery, 8,000 year old Babylonian dishes... all of them were in our sink, and all of them are in the dishwasher. (Yes, it's a big dishwasher.)

Do you think Minoan slipware is dishwasher safe?

Things I need to do today.

Things I need to do today:

• Critters critique.
• Work on script.

Things I should probably do, but suspect I won't:

• The dishes.
• Laundry.

Things I probably shouldn't do, but suspect I will:

• Go to Harry's and grab some vegetarian sushi for lunch. Current excuse: Boyfriend sacked out on couch. You wouldn't want me to wake him up with the microwave, would you?

*yawn*

I'm so tired I keep opening the word document with my story in it, staring at it, and closing it again. I think maybe I should just go with it and go to bed early. After all, I was sick last week, and maybe Daylight Savings Time wasn't the best time to give up caffeine. Although I think the flat on my back for a week is a bigger issue than the lack of caffeine. Urgh.

Plague!

Of course, when I'm wanting to finish a bunch of writing, I get sick. Isn't that how it always goes? Or is that just me?

I also haven't had any caffeine since Friday, and am thinking of making that permanent. I enjoy caffeine, but it's bad for me, and I probably just shouldn't.

I'm still sick, and probably shouldn't be posting. Here's proof! An artist's rendition of how my weekend went:

          EXT. STYROFOAM ROCK PLANET - DAY

          KATHERINE is clutching her stomach with one hand
          and holding a barf bag with the other.  In the
          background, Star Trek fight music swells. 

          An evil DEADLINE approaches.

                              DEADLINE
                    You must pay the rent!

                              KATHERINE
                    Um, paid that on the first. 

          The Deadline laughs maniacally and twirls its
          mustache.

                              KATHERINE
                    Apparently, they put me on the good
                    meds. 

Well, isn't that special...

There's just something touching about being seated next to a table with a loud drunk woman who's talking on her cell phone, cursing so much and so loudly that she sounds like a Tarantino movie, spilling sake all over herself, and pressuring her recovering alcoholic friend next to her to try the sake.

At least the sushi is good.

It's a sale! but not mine. ;)

Brian just sold a story to Baen's Universe! Read all about it!

RIP Octavia Butler

Via Cynthia and Bill comes the sad news of Octavia Butler's passing. Check out Bill's post; he has way more than I do.

Links:

• SFWA obit
• The Book of Martha
• Amnesty

If you ever want me dead... ;)

So, last night, around 1 or 2, my back hurt. I have a little plastic tub where I have various creams and such. There's one bottle in there that I bought, noticed that the last ingredient was 0.25% Capsaicin, and have avoided ever since. See, I had to go to the ER at 16 following a bowl of chili with jalapenos, and I've always blamed the jalapenos. Since then, Indian and Chinese with those red peppers have impelled me to use my inhaler, so...

Guess what my hand grabbed when I was half-asleep?

At 4, I woke up the SO to ask, "Bug bites or hives?" He squinted, said, "Um. Bug bites? I think?" I decided that if there was any doubt I should wash the stuff off.

In the shower, my lips started to swell. Hives. (Apparently I shouldn't have used hot water, but... frickin' brr. Brian keeps the house like a freezer.)

Next to swell was my mouth; I sounded like I was on Novocaine and it was getting harder to breathe, so I stabbed myself with my epi-pen and we went to the ER. (It was snowing, and me in my Birks without socks! Brr!) I now have a prescription for a five day course of prednisone.

Because I accidentally smeared pepper juice on my skin.

That's new. And unwelcome.

What's Left

What I have left from my best friend for the last 14 years:

• 1 box of cat ashes
• 1 cat tooth, pulled by the vet tech on January 8.
• 5 x-rays: 3 dental, 2 full-body
• Photos
• Memories

It's more than I have for my other dead kitties, but it's not enough.

Hmmmmm.

I was talking to the SO in the car this morning on the way to work about our respective writing projects. He thinks that the problem I'm having with the story formerly for the cliché challenge is that it's not a short story, it's a novel.

It's definitely a long one, that's for sure. Oh, not at the moment. At the moment it's over-compressed, and needs unpacking. But when I put in all the stuff that needs to go in, it'll be a long one.

As opposed to the other story I have lying around, which is a shorty. And I still have a novel idea percolating--again, I have characters and a milieu and a situation, but not a plot per se.

I was going to try to power through the former cliché story this weekend come hell or high water, but maybe I should finish the short one instead. Or maybe I should unpack and reevaluate. Yeah.

In other news, I'm reconsidering the running thing again. Yes, yes, I know. But I want to. I'm going to try something I read online--walk 10 minutes for a warm up, 15 minutes of walk, run, or both as I feel like it, 5 minutes of walk for a cool down. My cardiovascular system really feels like it can take whatever I dish out to it on the treadmill, but my legs can't. Maybe the stretching/weightlifting/"whatever I feel like" plan will make my legs cooperate more.

Also, the SO's next project sounds cool. I smell movie rights. ;)

I don't usually link to things like this here.

I try to stay vaguely on topic, and stick to geekgrrl and writing things. (Maybe that's a mistake!) But this blog is astonishing. It's maintained by a photographer, and he's telling the story of Hurricane Katrina's impact on Pearlington, MS, his mother's home. The portraits of the survivors are some of the most moving things I've ever seen. Seriously. It's almost like Dorothea Lange photoblogging Katrina. Or, as the author, Clayton James Cubitt, says, "I normally shoot fashion and portraiture for magazine and advertising clients. I'm often called upon to make celebrities look heroic. Celebrities aren't heroic. These survivors are. I wanted to make portraits of them that showed their pride, and dignity, and strength, even in such low circumstances. I wanted to show my respect, and love."

Operation Eden. Go.

For those of you not reading the SO's blog...

He finished the first draft of his novel. Go, say congratulations! :)

*gibber*

I'm trying to exercise more, mainly so I feel like less of a slug. Lots of people (Orson Scott Card, etc.) recommend exercise for authors on the grounds that it's hard to force lively prose out of a sluggish, tired body, and it's true. I may have to buy a copy of The Athlete's Diary on the grounds that obsessive record-keeping inspires me to greater effort. (You should see the Motivational Spreadsheet of Doom I wrote for the SO and my friend Milly.) Right now it's a pathetic ten minutes on the exercise bike a day; I hope to gradually bump that up to forty-five minutes, followed by weights.

Um, yeah. I mentioned running here ages ago. That didn't work out; my knee started calling me names. Alas.

I have several ideas from Dragoncon--I mostly went to writer's panels this year. One of them is an odd kind of cyberpunk, and I have no idea if it's going to be a short story or a novel. (Meep! although that would give me an opportunity to use the Motivational Spreadsheet of Doom.) It could get long. Which I suppose is good, either way. I have notes, and will let it percolate. I also contemplated the other novel idea I had lying around my hard drive and made more notes.

I still want to write something for Scalzi's cliché challenge. I started a draft of something, but... eh. I'll go reread in a day or so and see what I think--right now I think I would reread and say "Eh."

I like the Sidekick, but I had to rewrite the php browser detection routine to get this site to work with it. Interestingly, the browser string says it is ProxiWeb/AvantGo. I used to use ProxiWeb on Palm, back before AvantGo bought them. And I haven't seen whether they support J2ME yet; I keep seeing things that suggest that they will next month. I want Azure!

Nightmare story updated yet again...

I made even more changes to the nightmare story, but no one's seen them yet. The S.O. was working on his own novel, damn him! *shakes fist* That, and I'm a little too worried about Hurricane Katrina smacking New Orleans to worry about whether my changes to a short story are any good.

Speaking of Katrina, we should be getting leftovers at some point; mostly a bunch of rain. Nothing compared to what they're getting, of course, and it's not like we're under an Inland Tropical Storm warning like Tennessee.

Tennessee. I ask you.

Should we lose power, I'll take the opportunity to write in peace and quiet and darkness until my laptop battery runs out. Woo!

I downloaded a metric ton of stuff from Escape Pod to listen to in the car. Mostly Tim Pratt and Greg van Eekhout, since I've enjoyed other stories of theirs. (I already downloaded Jen's story ages ago.)

Unpacking hell

I have so many boxes. The cats have an exciting box playground. I feel like I'm making no progress at all, but I'm gradually clearing a path.

Of course, what I'm making no progress on is writing. Sigh! I have plans, but there is almost no butt in seat time. I'm so tired from work and unpacking that there isn't a lot of energy left over.

I think this is something a lot of (most? all?) writers deal with: you have to fit writing into a life that includes a day job, trying to maintain a relationship/family, etc. Something has to give, and I think women have the worst of it. But that's a rant for another day.

Happy birthday, Freddie!

Happy birthday to the lovely, delightful Freddie Baer: a talented artist, a sweet and wonderful person, and one of the few people I would be happy to lose Alice in Jungleland to at auction. :D

Happy birthday, Freddie! You rock!

Virii and other disasters

Y'know, after the sixth machine I put my floppy into started screwing up, I might start to think maybe it was me. Or my (virusy) floppy. I'm just sayin'.

No, I'm really not getting much writing done, so you get virii and the pain of utilities. Sucks to be you.

The phone company is evil. Why does it take over a week to get a phone in Atlanta? Dude! I mean, DUDE! It almost made sense when I lived in the Ninth Circle of Hell, population 600 bankrupt people and shrinking fast, but Atlanta? Dude!

Tomorrow. Sigh.

Cable modem is worse. Next Tuesday. I'm Jonesin' here!

Luckily, I have unlimited Internet on my Treo. I'm sure you're glad I was able to share my pain.

I bought a house!

Squee! I just bought the cutest house in the history of the known universe!

In a Waffle House. (Atlanta, y'all.)

I'm going to go hyperventilate now. Over a celebration dinner. Squee!

Happy birthday to me!

Between attempting to buy a house (OMG don't ask! so evil!) and wrestling with a software package of evil for work (I came, I saw, I kicked its ass!), I have been getting darned near no writing done. Shame on me! In fact, I'm so exhausted that I've been going to bed early. On the other hand, I've finished the software package of evil install in all the rooms where they wanted it. Maybe I could sneak in some writing on the job. Bwahahaha.

We have acquired new kittens, brother and sister that we have named Pan and Pandora. Because they look startlingly like the rest of the tribe, they seem to be being accepted easily.

I plan to hit up my coworkers for free lunch. Mwahahaha. After all, I did smite the evil software install...

Holy, uh...

We went to Lowe's to pick up a few things and fondle the building materials (especially flooring, because I loathe the barf-brown carpets), and, um...

I have expensive taste. No, really. Yikes. It's a good thing I'm planning on keeping my day job, 'cause... yeah. I want to rip out all the flooring and bathroom fixtures. Movie check. Yeah. A movie check would buy expensive materials. ;)

My birthday is coming up...

And for my birthday, I may be buying a house.

Well, "may." I'm approved. And very anxious! Buying a house is scary stuff! It requires enough paperwork to choke a woolly mammoth! Oh, God, I know that at the actual closing I'm going to feel like one of the TV actors at Dragoncon... sign sign sign sign sign sign... My friend Joan said she got writer's cramp.

Mortgage Man is my boyfriend's uncle's wife's coworker. I like him much better in person than I did on the phone. I suspect he feels the same way, as he seemed to grok my sense of humor better in person. No, I can't be serious, not really. Maybe for the length of time it takes to tell a short story, but any longer than that, no, it is like humor Tourette's. But I digress.

I suppose that's the best birthday present ever, although I'd really like someone to take me to Café Sunflower. Hint. Hint, hint.

House. *freaks slightly, but in that good way*

June sucked

'Nuff said, really. June was the suck. I promptly sent out my rejected story to a new market, but that's about it.

I do still have two stories in progress, and am contemplating a TV script and a potential novel (meep!), but basically the month was spent on cat grief, worries about money, the vet temporarily misplacing my dead cat (!!!!!!!!!!), and repeated viewings of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Yeesh. Just typing that I want to skive off work and go see Prisoner of Azkaban again.

Adonis

In August, 1991, I was a graduate art student in Texas. I'd recently acquired a tortoiseshell kitten from a little girl sitting in front of the local Kroger, a cute little turbocharged thing I named Persephone. I got her in the break between classes, and when I went back to class, she was lonely. I didn't really want another cat, but decided she needed a friend.

One day that August, I went to the same Kroger and there was a young couple who were giving away small black kittens. One of the kittens appeared to be very afraid of the man, but liked me. I took him home, holding him on my lap as I shifted gears. He only complained once, a long, loud meow, and once he'd told me that this sucked he subsided. "You can be Persephone's cat," I told him. I named him Adonis, after the myth where Aphrodite hides Adonis in the Underworld and Persephone falls in love with him and doesn't want to give him back.

Persephone took one look at him and started growling and hissing, as if to say, "You brought me a snack! How considerate, Meowmie!"

Ulp.

For about three weeks, there was much hissing and spitting and Adonis hiding under the couch. He would sneak out and sit on my lap while I read or watched TV, then hide again when I left to go to class. It ended after I came home one day and found Persephone holding a terrified Adonis in a headlock, washing him.

Somehow, much to my surprise, he managed to impregnate Persephone when she was six months old and he was three months old. I promptly took him to be neutered. He came home stoned, and meowed to be let out of the carrier. He wanted to sit on my lap. I kept three of the kittens, because I couldn't find homes for them, and Adonis was a good foster mother to them.

Adonis was my special baby. He grew to live up to his name, Adonis the beautiful. He was my probably-not-very-secret favorite, and the feeling was very mutual. He was very jealous of my ex-boyfriend, and used to drop heavy objects from above onto his head. For some reason, my ex-boyfriend didn't find this endearing. ;) I lost the boyfriend and kept Adonis.

Adonis lived with me for almost 13 years. I took him on two cross-country moves. He was the one who told me I have sleep apnea; he'd go and ask my roommate for help. I had undiagnosed sleep apnea for a long time despite Adonis' insistence that I had a problem. The conversation often went like this:

Me: I think I have sleep apnea.
Doctor: [derisive laugh] What makes you think that?
Me: My cat does the Come Quick Timmy dance to lead my roommate into my room, where my roommate finds me gasping for air or not breathing.
Doctor: [rolling eyes] You don't have sleep apnea. You're not an overweight middle-aged man. If you're really worried, go on a diet and get rid of your cats. You're probably allergic.

And the horse you rode in on, Doc. I really believe I'd be dead if I'd followed his advice. I got new doctors. I kept the cats.

So Adonis was practically a service animal for many of the years he lived with me, poor baby. He considered this to be his main job. If my roommate was out, Persephone would bite me on the face to wake me up, which Adonis apparently couldn't bear to do. When I finally got the CPAP, he and Persephone were thrilled. Persephone used to kiss it goodnight for awhile, and Adonis would still sleep by my head every night, just in case it didn't work, so he could go get help.

Adonis actually liked Brian, even though he was male. Horrors! And my boyfriend! Even worse. Even before they made friends, he would poke his head into Brian's room (sleep apnea, remember?) and check on him several times during the day, just to make sure he was all right. It was part of his job as King Kitty to make sure everything in the house was running smoothly.

Sunday night around 2, I realized he was dehydrated, disoriented, and staggering, and for the first time in his life he didn't want me to pet him. I tried to get him to drink. He took a few half-hearted licks to humor me.

This was bad.

We took him to the 24 hour emergency vet, who thought his abdomen was full of tumors but couldn't be sure without tests. He quoted $1300+ to find out and said he thought Adonis would probably die anyway.

Back in high school, I had three cats who were FeLV+. Shinpaugh took to hiding under the furniture, refusing food and water, etc. This is just what cats do when they decide to die--they starve themselves to death. I took Shinpaugh to the vet and he purred really loudly for the first time in about a month, as if to say, "I know what you're going to do. Thank you."

Adonis was acting sicker than Shinpaugh was then. I think he had decided to die.

I respected that decision. Which means that I'm going to be picking up more ashes from the cat cremation place in a few days.

Goodbye, beautiful boy. I love you.

Read Brian's tribute.

various and sundry

Today is Brian's birthday! Happy birthday!

Today is also the closing for Austin Heart of Film, but I mailed my script and Sallya on the 13th. Woohoo! *crosses fingers*

I haven't really written stuff since I finished the screenplay. Things are percolating--the in-progress stuff--but it's not really translating into actual writing. And it likely won't tonight, because the printer was misbehaving and I managed to smash my finger in the paper tray. Ow! Printers are the bane of my existence.

Maybe I should soak and read. I have an F&SF I'm working on...

writing update

That story draft that was so sucktastic? I somehow managed to wrangle a couple of good paragraphs out of it. I thought it was probably "warmer" than the previous draft, and apparently I was right.

In other news, I went for a run last night. It was about ten minutes because it was getting dark, but more than half of that was running. Yay, me! I've found a stretch of road that's relatively flat, but it's not very long so longer than ten minutes will be running up and down that spot. It's much better than the Hill Of Doom [TM] in the other direction, though.

Monday mornings are evil.

Nifty-swifty-ness on SFWA's site, and my calves.

This is a very useful link for the nightmare story, even if not all the items apply to the story in question. Also, I think I was writing with the wrong POV character, although I wouldn't have known that if I hadn't attempted a draft, since it took me an abortive draft attempt to really figure out what's going on. Or maybe I should condense characters. In fact, I probably should, because if I change POV characters, the original POV character doesn't really serve much purpose.

In other news, I suck at running running is very challenging, and I think I'm pushing too hard. My calves inform me that they hate me I need to slow down.

New story idea

Inspiration struck Wednesday for a twisted tale I'm calling "The Grandfather Paradox." Yes, for those of you who recognize the reference, there is time travel in this story. Right now I'm trying to figure out the time-travel rules. I don't want to do the old "can't affect anything in the past" story, but there have to be rules. Hmm. I'll have to ponder that one some more.

I also don't think the nightmare story is "ripe" yet. I may have to let it lie around my hard drive some more. Which means I should probably go and work on the very silly story.

The running is going fairly well so far, aside from some mix-ups over treadmill hours at my place of employment. They should make the treadmill available to me 24/7! They should give me a treadmill of my very own to take home!

Uh, yeah. Maybe I should go buy more lottery tickets. (It's for a good cause! It funds the Hope Scholarship!)

New exercise program!

My job has changed, and I'm expecting it to be a lot less physical than it's been in the past, so that means it's time to start working out outside of work again. I have a stationary bike, weights, and a weight bench at home, but I'm feeling inspired by my friend Jenne who lost much weight and looks fabulous to try running again. I've always wanted to; it's always been fun, but treadmills are much kinder on my joints. I'm kind of the anti-limber.

But I digress.

My job has a treadmill, and I will likely start using it. I just need to figure out whether I want to get there early, run at lunch, or run right after work. I was thinking three times a week or so, with much stationary bike in between. And weights. Much weights. You should see my biceps. ;)

Today I rode the bike for fifteen minutes and then stretched. Before the bike and stretch, an attempt to touch the floor had my hands a full foot off the ground. Afterwards, I could touch the floor. Then I ran a hilly route near my house. Downhill is super-easy and I feel like I could do it forever, level ground is manageable, and uphill sucks and winds me almost instantly. That's pretty damned good for someone who hasn't tried this in over a year, though. :)

I didn't write this weekend. I went out with friends, including the aforementioned Jenne, and I ran. I think that's pretty good. There's always tomorrow.

Zzzzzzzzzz...

So, the story loosely based on a nightmare proceeds slowly, because, well, dream. Not very logically consistent. That, and I feel very lazy. My job just got a lot busier.

No, my laptop isn't back from the shop. They did "final testing" on it this morning at 10am, and it flunked, so they're tearing out all the main boards and replacing them. On the other hand, they did send me a bogus bill I'll have to challenge. Sigh!

But I digress.

So, I have this story that I'm working on, but it's not cooperating, and yesterday I had this really, really wacky silly idea. And it's just getting sillier. If only I could talk myself into, you know, writing. Why don't I wash my hair and then try to scribble down the funnier parts I came up with?

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.