paulak_rumin8: Austin and speck (Default)
Random thoughts...

I have a terrific idea for a psychological thriller, but I don't relish the idea of immersing myself in such a depressing project. Therefore, it will have to be made manifest by somebody else, somebody I'd probably rather not know personally.

The greatest reservation I have about taking on a writing project is spending all that time and energy and ending up with an awesome read no one will crack open. That's like Cinderella showing up at the palace ball only to find out the event's been cancelled for lack of interest.

Interesting. This chicken sandwich that wasn't doing much to inspire me to eat a hearty lunch is magically being consumed under my conscious radar while I am occupied with writing. This is good to know, for future reference.

Today, in Myers-Briggs-speak, I'm letting my extraverted intuition (Ne) out for a romp. It's such a pleasant way to be me: energetic, witty, sociable, fun. It sure would be nice if I could turn this on at will.

Also in Myers-Briggs-speak, I've landed on the notion that if I could just get my introverted feeling (Fi) and extraverted intuition (Ne) to get together and sack and bludgeon to death my pesky last function, extraverted thinking (Te), life would be so much sweeter.

And finally...Something to look forward to. Next month I'm taking a day off work, driving into the city, and meeting Parker Stevenson. What are the chances of him blowing through town twice for a public meet and greet? I already know what to say. "I was a shade young to appreciate The Hardy Boys, and I never really got into Baywatch, but between those two you had another show. That's what brings me here..."
paulak_rumin8: Austin and speck (Default)
Sometimes I look back at certain, critical junctures of my life and find myself growing thoughtful. Once upon a time, I passed through one door and swung shut another. What if I had reversed that scenario? What if my criteria for making life-altering decisions had been ordered differently? What if the most life-altering choices in life weren't settled in my glorious-but-oblivious youth? I think this phenomenon, this mental rewriting of the road not taken, occurs when you realize your current opportunties have substantially dwindled and the sky's not the limit anymore. I do believe the term for this is "midlife crisis." I absolutely fail to see how the purchase of a flashy sports car could possibly alleviate the situation. Instead, I choose to watch lots of old TV and eat salad. I could eat junk food, but there's no reason to let myself go or anything. Besides, the way I cream n'sugar my coffee, I get my fix for sweets daily by 10 a.m.

My husband was telling me a story he heard from a policeman who came by the gas station last night. Husband encourages reliable folks, like truckers, railroad workers, and police officers, to hang around at night so he's not alone with scary people who happen by. He does this by plying them with lots of free coffee. Anyway, the story is, this police officer had to try and pull over a drunk driver, a teen, who was behind the wheel of a stolen combine. How do you pull over a combine? It's really big, like a tank. You can't shoot out the tires. You can't lay down spike strips. Your squad's going to run out of gas before the combine does. I guess what happened is the police just tracked the kid until he finally pulled over to relieve himself. Kind of sounds like fodder for an episode of Cops.
paulak_rumin8: Austin and speck (Default)

Daylight saving time is not kind to me. I suppose I bear some of the responsibility for today's mishap. It's not like I turned in for the night in any way that suggests I was prepared to rise at 5 a.m. But I did set out my clothes, set the alarm, check that the radio station was properly tuned in. Either I was more exhausted than I thought or my classical station was playing one of their airy, space-age sounding pieces, because I didn't wake up. I had a good, steady REM going when the phone rang and put a quick end to it. One ring, and I thought to myself, "Uh-oh."

The time was 6:45, 15 minutes past starting time, and I was supposed to be holding down the fort today. Oops. I got up, accomplished the bare minimum of the morning routine, grabbed a bowl of raisen bran and headed out the door. Made the 30-minute commute and arrived at work at 7:30. Not too shabby.

Here's what gets me. My hair, which isn't lush and full of body on a good day, is hanging here stringy and flat, and all I did to salvage the disaster was plug a couple little hair clips to hold the sides up. I got more compliments on this look today than I've had in the past six months. Truely embarrassing.

I got home and had a message on the machine to attend a girls'-night-out skin care party tonight. I'm tired, unshowered, and my face is breaking out like a teenager. But who am I trying to impress? I went. Now I think I smell like a produce stand. Everything was all-natural, featuring Aloe. Not just Aloe, either, but special aloe. I tried out a facial mask made with honey. It felt like honey, too. Very sticky and weird. About the time the salesgirl was telling us how safe it is for children, I decided to taste it. Had to find out if it tasted like it felt. Have to say, it does not taste like honey. But it's nontoxic, so I'm quite well.
paulak_rumin8: Austin and speck (Default)
This is totally sophomoric, but it did get a smile out of me. Husband thought it was pretty funny, too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZQebW6cI44&feature=related
paulak_rumin8: Austin and speck (Default)
If I had it my way, I would stay in this spot for another 3 hours and crank out the next couple chapters of my story. It's starting to pick up again, which is great. However, 5 a.m. comes early, and tomorrow is overwhelmingly spoken for from beginning to end.

It's one of those days that just sounds difficult from here. Early work, pinewood derby, travel in fresh snow to out-of-town obligations, home again late, and another early start to the day on Sunday. If I had a remote control for life, right about here I'd fast-forward about 24 hours.

Ah-ha, to lighten this prattle, let me recall a favorite line from French Kiss with Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline: fester, fester, fester...rot, rot, rot...

Husband just finished assembling and weighing the pinewood derby cars. Three this year. Ouch. He's decompressing with his Red Green Show box set downstairs.

Now off to bed, whether I like it or not.
paulak_rumin8: (Austin and Mickey)
Today, one of my residents came into my office, angry, accusing my staff of stealing her towels. She did the same thing last week, and I found them for her in laundry, waiting to be delivered. I tried laundry again today but did not find the towels. I sent another nurse to her apartment to locate the towels. For approximately seven minutes (but who's counting?), I heard dear resident recount the indignity of my staff scavenging her apartment for her towels. How was she to bathe? How was she to dry stuff? Ah, look, here is our nurse with your four sets of bath towels from your apartment. They're all here, clean, just hiding away in a cupboard, most likely. Problem solved, right? Unfortunately, dear resident no longer recognized the towels as hers. They are now imposter towels. I asked kind nurse to please return the towels to the apartment. "You do that, and I'll throw them into the hall!" vows resident.

The most consoling thing about caring for people with dementia is also the most consoling thing about caring for little babies. Either way, if they decide you've done them wrong, they won't remember in an hour and you have a chance to try it again.

It snowed today. In honor of the occasion, I present a fitting quote from poet e.e. cummings:

The snow doesn't give a soft, white damn whom it touches.
paulak_rumin8: Austin and speck (alien)
Hurrah, I have an account.....what the hell do I do with this thing?

Actually, I could stop posting now. I think the above line summarizes nicely everything going through my head right now. A really long time ago, like 2 decades, 7 years of college, 1 career, 6 kids ago, I really thought I'd spend my life writing fiction and eke out a living that way. Then I took a break. Now I'm back.

I have to say the technology isn't what it was back in 1992 when I was journaling on WordStar at community college. You could key something like 3 pages per post and then it would max out and you'd have to start a new file.

I am not technologically savvy. I haven't figured out these nice functions I'm seeing, like "embed media." I honestly don't know what the difference is between HTML and Rich Text, or whether I have a preference for one versus the other. I am seriously out of touch.

I'm here because I need a place to set down my more recent creative efforts and hopefully get more feedback than I can get from people who are related to me. Family generally aren't interested in one's fiction, I've found. I get a lot of nodding and smiling. Not much else.

That's all for now. I've started, and that was really the only goal for the moment. We'll build on this another time.

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