#108: Take someone on a date
My husband and I celebrate our monthly anniversaries. It’s one day a month where we have to do something awesome together and/or I get an excuse to forget about dinner plans and dishes and just enjoy food that appears like magic on the table in front of us (and he gets to not do as many dishes).
Last night we went to the ANU film club (anyone can be a member – you can pay as little as $15 for a week of movies http://anufg.org.au) and saw “Away We Go”. Because we buy membership at the beginning of the year, this was a “free” event.
We also ate an entire pack of Mars Pods. Mmm. . .
I always nibble off the biscuit then enjoy the weirdly-shaped chocolate and filling. It’s possible they’re the best lolly ever. But I digress. . .
Outside of the ANU Film Club program, I’d never heard of the movie (despite the fact that Maggie Gyllenhaal and a few other familiar faces were in it). It was described as an indie comedy-drama, and it’s about a couple that gets pregnant and travels around visiting friends and family in search of the right place to bring up their child. There’s a lot of extremely odd people (this is NOT a PG film – it opens with a funny sex scene – although they don’t show any visuals), and some heartbreaking tragedies. But mostly it’s incredibly funny and warm. It has lines including:
-That doesn’t make you look crazy at all.
-Would it be wrong to tell my daughter her mum was murdered?
-It’s all about the three S’s: No separation, no sugar, and no strollers.
No. . . strollers?
I love my children. Why would I choose to push my child away?
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/2642135/away_we_go_movie_trailer/
I really, really enjoyed it.
Play along at home: Pick someone – anyone – you love, and go on a date with them. I recommend taking one of your parents (because you probably don’t spend much time just talking to them – especially not just one at a time).
I just – literally this moment – discovered that yesterday’s post didn’t publish. I’ll take care of that immediately after this.
Bottom Feeders Rule
On Monday I went to a fish shop to see if they had a fish that might eat the ominous white fuzz that’s been growing in my tank. Their main comment was, “Woah, that’s WEIRD, man!” which wasn’t super helpful. I asked to look at a sucker fish, but they were clear that the sucker fish only eats algae, so I reluctantly left it there.
The thing is, that sucker fish was BEAUTIFUL. It was a bristlenose catfish, and in Gollum’s immortal words, “I wants it!”
Algae-eating fish are generally recommended, so I figured I’d wait a bit (to make sure the white fuzz wasn’t killing everyone), and then probably cave in and get one.
Yesterday, as I mentioned, I had a lot of work (preceded by a day of even more work). Shortly after writing yesterday’s blog I felt my mania beginning to fade, and decided on Ae Cunning Plan – to buy a bristlenose catfish, stat! This is a fine example of mania leading to over-sponteneity, over-optimism, and selfishness (since this lot of fish haven’t even outlived the last lot yet, so the chance of death is high).
So I went to the Belco Markets Pet Barn (my favourite fish shop, definitely) to buy a bristlenose. (I’d called earlier that day about the white fuzz, and they suggested it might be because of overfeeding, but they weren’t sure.) Bristlenoses also need special food, and special wood (plastic wood just doesn’t cut it). I bought a beautiful wood-with-plant arrangement, and a tiny, perfect catfish. Before I left the store, however, one of the staff arrived back from lunch – someone everyone else described as “the fish guru”. So I asked him about the white fuzz, saying I had neon tetras, a plant, and a fighting fish. He asked several questions, then made a startling declaration.
It’s snail eggs.
I have a tiny snail that came in with the first plant (I’d noticed it, but never suspected it of foul play). Apparently they breed way more efficiently than rabbits.
“But there’s this really cool fish over here,” he says, and shows me another bottom feeder, a pakistan, that eats snail eggs.
So I bought two cleaning fish – one that eats bad plants, and one that eats bad animals. Brilliant!
And because they’re semitropical, they’re beautifully shaded. The bristlenose is shaped like a comma, with a fast-flicking tail and beautifully-drawn tiny white dots all over his back. He likes to suck on the glass with his sucker-mouth, which is just as bizarre as I could hope for. Every so often he’ll actually swim a little way, then THOOK! he’s flat against the glass again, like a cartoon character who’s just run into a brick wall. Here’s some bristlenose pictures (not mine):
The carniverous one has beautiful leopard spots stretched into stripes. My fighting fish is a similar size (perhaps three cm long), and is utterly fascinated. The new fish alternates between hiding/peering out of our fake hollow log, and rushing about, madly sucking at the wall.
I spent considerable time thinking about how to name them. They’re so incredible, so naming them after a person should be flattering – but “bottom feeder” is such a negative term. What to do?
I considered calling them Flollop and Buck (after the way they move), Jack and Jill, Gollum and Smeagol. . . or naming them after politicians. In the end, and based on the carnivore’s manic behaviour and the catfish’s ability to disappear so completely at least three hundred times a day – we named the carnivore Sherlock Holmes and the catfish Watson.
Someday I’ll get a picture of whatever breed Sherlock is.
And now for something completely different.
I stumbled across a brilliant writing competition. It’s run by Publisher A (who still hasn’t replied to my email inquiry, but this could be a way to get back into their good graces – assuming I have indeed used them up), and the prize isn’t money or publication – it’s editing. But of course the chance of publication is much improved by the process, since it’s THEIR editors working with you – and for a whole week. The best book for it is “Waking Dead Mountain” or “The Monster Apprentice” (“Sol the Sea Princess” would be good except it needs a rewrite of the opening chapters), both of which are tied up with publishers.
But just in case it helped, I emailed Publisher E. They replied, and said they hadn’t been able to open the file I sent it with, so they’d asked me to resend it. . . last year. (FYI: This is the third time one of my books has been lost – and by three different publishers.)
It doesn’t particularly matter whether they stuffed up or I did, the important thing is that I can send a beautifully polished and ready manuscript to this great competition – which closes next week. Time to send my publication attempts in a new direction.
Back to the writing board
Publisher A hasn’t replied yet (the ones who may or may not be sick of me), but Publisher B (“Stormhunter” and “Monster Apprentice”) has. I expected them to say, “Oh dear, has it been that long? We’ll get right on to that!” (lies, all lies) but they went one further and said, “We’re really busy at the moment with this sales thing.”
So. . . nothing will be happening for at least another month or three.
In the meantime, I have two adult students who need huge amounts of help at the moment, so I’m working a LOT. The good thing is that they finish in a matter of weeks, so this is a crisis rather than a regular thing (I generally handle crisis far better than everyday stress). The bad thing is that when I work a lot, I tend to crash my car or make other serious life errors.
Last week, every hour was torture, and I cried a lot. This week my brain chemicals have done me a favour and gone manic – just in time for the heaviest week of all. Since I only go mildly manic, it’s a reasonably good way to cope with life (particularly since I always observe myself carefully and predict when the crash will happen – I’m betting on Friday). The worst part is not being able to get to sleep (too busy buzzing about things to do), not being able to focus on what I’m doing (always focused on the next thing, and the next thing), and of course the high risk of injury to myself/others, or suddenly plunging into uncontrollable violence, swearing, or crying.
Normally my work limit in a day is three hours with students (I quite often push to four by not doing anything else that day, by having breaks, by having two hours in one location, or by having a student at my house). Yesterday I had over seven hours with students. If you add an hour of writing, half an hour of exercise, and all the driving between students, I worked for eleven hours. Because of being manic, I handled it fine. Today I have six hours of tutoring (plus exercise, writing, and driving), and I think I can stay manic enough to handle it. Tomorrow’s just three hours, so I should be tired but okay. And Friday I don’t have students, but do have a birthday party to go to. But on Friday I’m allowed chocolate again (I’m going three days without any junk food of any kind – today is day two), so I’ll have something to lean on if things get bad.
As with many mental illnesses, someone who is manic is able to think rationally (logic just feels utterly incorrect). Other than the creeping dread of the consequences, I really enjoy being manic – it’s deeply satisfying to be able to do a full day’s work for once. It’s a whole lot like being a normal person for a while.
#3: Go mad in a lolly shop
You’ve gotta love the SERIOUS lolly shop. I don’t mean the confectionary aisle of the supermarket (treasure trove of wonders, yes – but still not the same thing). I mean THE lolly shop. The one with peculiar feasts from distant lands, and with lollies you’ve never heard of before. And with strange items in jars and an entire huge table brimming with tiny clear-plastic bags of utterly sinful mystery.
The lolly shop I chose for today’s awesomeness was the one (I can never remember the name) in Gold Creek, Gungahlin, Canberra, Australia. After getting lost and asking directions (as I do every single time) I found the shop and wandered, drooling, until I eventually made my choices.
The skittles were a different colour inside than out. I had meant to ascertain, for journalistic reasons, whether they were always the same combination (such as blue on the outside, pink on the inside) but, although I tested them extensively, I did so mainly while in my car, driving, at night. As a result, although I have memories of biting them in half and looking inside, I was unable to remember from one skittle to the next whether the internal colouring was consistent or not. (This lack of fact-finding journalism is why my blog hasn’t yet been picked up by any major newspapers.)
As always, I thoroughly enjoyed the jelly belly jelly beans (my favourite flavours are toasted marshmallow and buttered popcorn).
The flying saucers were startlingly sour.
And then there was this. . .
It was $4.20, and I really bit off more than I could chew with that one. In fact, I couldn’t bite it at all. This is after three hours:
After five hours, I was thrilled to be able to fit it in my mouth – just.
It took SEVEN HOURS to eat. My tongue hurt, my cheeks hurt, and my jaw hurt.
Don’t do gobstoppers, kids.
Play along at home: Eat a $4.20 gobstopper (if you’re an IDIOT, like me). Or just some kind of unique candy. Mmm.
And now. . . the reverse burglary locations revealed. Go back to the photo above. See that big stick thing? I pushed that between the cushions of your couch (nice couch, by the way). The jar of hard lollies in the background is inside your TV cabinet.
Let me know when you’ve found them!
#148: Nerf Duel
Ben suggested I conduct a nerf duel, using historical rules of combat. But historical rules are always either:
a) stuffy (like, I’d need to be a nobleman, which would require quite a bit of lifestyle change).
b) bloody (and it’s REAL hard to draw blood with a nerf gun).
Nevertheless, I got me some guns, some ammo, and the following fierce opponent (here photographed expertly loading his gun):
We lined ourselves up in the square, ready for battle.
And pow! Bang! Arg!
Until the inevitable end.
Not satisfied with having killed the narrator, the deadly gun-toting four year old turned on his Uncle CJ:
Naturally, since I’m now dead I don’t know the outcome of the second duel. I have just one comment – Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya punk?
Look at those deadly eyes!
Coming soon: The reverse burglary victim revealed!
Secret # 6 (hopefully)
Go mad in a lolly shop (Mmmmm)
Eat Yum Cha (Mmmmm)
Three days without any junk food whatsoever (arg, the pain!!)
And a surprise or two
Today’s reverse burglary clue: My burglary did NOT take place on the day I posted it. So if you’ve been thinking, “I was home that day – I know for certain it wasn’t me!” then – guess again.
I know at least three tortured souls have been scouring their homes for candy, so I plan to actually reveal the location of the lollies. . . tomorrow.
In other news, my fish appear absolutely fine thus far, except there is white fuzz growing on the heater (I’ve cleaned it once with a toothbrush and boiling water, and I’ll clean it again) probably as a result of the first plant dying. I plan to buy one of those “I clean your tank” fish, hopefully today.
A time to write
It’s time to make up consistent fake names for my publishers.
Publisher A: I have three direct contacts with them, and so far they’ve let me email them any full manuscript I want (after I email to ask). Since “Farting my ABCs” was rejected, I emailed them asking if they’d like to see it. That was last Thursday, and they haven’t replied yet. Last time I sent them a book (which I received back over a year ago) they hinted that they didn’t have time to continue reading my nearly-but-not-quite-good-enough books. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what they were saying.
Publisher B: I have two direct contacts with them, and they currently have “Stormhunter” and “The Monster Apprentice” (ie the first books in my YA and childrens’ Rahana trilogies), the first of which they’ve had over a year. I emailed them this today: “I’m just dropping by for my three-monthly check that things are still progressing with “Stormhunter” and/or “The Monster Apprentice”. I hope you’re well and enjoying the great weather.” If they reject those two, they may not be willing to look at any others. If they accept them, they’ll probably accept the four other books in the two trilogies. Exciting stuff.
Publisher C: The one I originally sent “Farting My ABCs”. They generally take six months to reply, but they do generally request the full manuscript.
Publisher D: They generally request the full manuscript.
Publisher E: Has had the first three chapters of “Waking Dead Mountain” for five months – presumably a good sign for the book, and a bad sign for how long I’ll have to wait if they do request the full manuscript.
So, in conclusion: I’m waiting for Publisher A to let me know if they still like me, and for Publisher B to finally tell me if everything is about to change (or not). And waiting for Publisher E, but not holding my breath.
Happy Sunday
To all of you – men, women, mothers, fathers, people of indeterminate or unique gender, and children —
May your Sunday be like this:
S#65: Personal Manifesto
Steff Metal (of the infamously awesome list) wrote:
65. Write a Personal Manifesto
Who are you really? What are you about? What makes you tick? What morals and beliefs do you follow?
Write yourself a personal manifesto – who you are, who you want to be and how you’re gonna get there.
I’ve been looking forward to this entry. Then I saw a post by Donald Miller (http://donmilleris.com/) about seeing your life as a story (rather than a Dilbert-esque mission statement) and, as a storyteller, I LOVED it. So here’s the blurb on the back of the unfolding movie of my life (remember to get breathless as you reach the end):
A burnt-out missionary writes young adult books featuring true heroes – the kind that readers can look up to. She hangs on the edge of major publication for years as her mental illness worsens. Will she achieve her own dreams before her illness swallows her last heroic spark of hope?
(The answer, of course, is yes.)
And in the meantime, I live a heroic life every day, and inspire others through my blog of Daily Awesomeness. And of course I keep writing (I forgot to mention during “Try, try again” that my novels have been rejected sixty-eight times – about twelve of which were by a very narrow margin. A perverse part of me hopes to reach a hundred before I get accepted.)
Play along at home: Write your own storyline with a main character (that’s you), a crucial problem to overcome (what do you want most?), and what’s at stake for you. Think Hollywood, baby! It’s adjective time at last!
If you’re brave enough, post the results here.
Incidentally, happy mothers day to all my lady readers. Goodness knows we all mother our menfolk every day. A special shout-out to my pregnant sister. If your partner hasn’t bought you chocolate (or perhaps pickles and ice cream), he is a cad. Go buy your own.
Oh! Sorry I forgot to give a reverse burglary clue yesterday. Here’s two:
1. My victim was not a student of mine.
2. When I “broke in” I walked through the front door.
#118: Collage of Awesomeness
This is an idea from lovechelsealauren.blogspot.com (thanks Chelsea!)
I’m rubbish at collages (virtual or otherwise) but I quite enjoyed suddenly having a visual representation of some of my best awesome moments from the last little while. So here it is!
The links to the relevant blog entries are:
Vote “yes” for Global Warming
I’m allergic to Winter. Specifically, I’m allergic to clothing. All of it. Wearing sunglasses makes me feel trapped. My very-comfy pajama top is giving me rashes simply by existing near my skin. Socks either fall off my feet or cut off my circulation. And then there’s my cold hands and feet due to poor circulation. And of course bills, which hurt a lot when I don’t even earn enough to cover rent.
So let’s band together and either make the Earth wamer or move Canberra to the tropics. Personally, I don’t mind which. I’m not fussy.
