I · Wear · My · Heart · on · My · Sleeve

If you want me to give you a good reason to talk about yourself, post "Words!" in the comments and I'll give you five of your own.

Meanwhile, these from martinlivings

( Utah )

( music )

( writing )

( wraising )

( wreligion ;) )

Australians love and respect Dr Norman Swan (and his radio show Health Watch on the ABC) who isn't afraid to use big scientific words.

Recently his show featured an interview with Dr Robert Lustig, Professor of Pediatric Endocrinology at the University of California in San Francisco, specifically about the childhood obesity epidemic.

This is a really, REALLY good interview, with lots of cellular biology info, such as the roles of insulin, leptin and how the liver metabolises fructose.

It gives us an idea of what we can do to help improve the obesity epidemic, not just in children, but in adults as well.

Proper diet and exercise is the best treatment, of course, but Dr Lustig explains why (and it ain't about burning calories, but about changing the intracellular chemical cycles).

(Did I mention before how much I love biology?)

Alas, it looks like I'm going to have to give up drinking straight fruit juice.

So I'm roaming an op-shop (second-hand shop), looking for jeans to fit Their Ladyships when I came across this, in excellent condition, for ten bucks:

This is a Rival "Crock Pot" 3.5L slow cooker model 3100 from the late 1970's.

Dude! VINTAGE SCORE!!!!

I grew up with one of these, and my folks made all sorts of great stuff. Theirs was a dull mustard colour, while mine is the burnt orange colour you see here.

Also, there are some slight differences: Rival sold as a different brand (Monier) in Australia, so it took me a while to hunt down details online. (model 3150F equivalent)

That said, the same make & model is selling in Australia on eBay for about $40, and ditto in the US for about the equivalent price.

I've been jonesing for a crock pot for a few years now, but have met with resistance from His Grace for several reasons, including the lack of storage space in my kitchen. However, the juxtaposition of vintage goodness and cheap price was too good to resist. Yes, he'll balk, but that's only because he's never owned a crock pot before. (His childhood meals were abused in a pressure cooker.) I shall soon win him over to the Way of the Crock Pot.

Right now my crock pot is simmering away on some yummy barbeque chicken legs. Maybe tomorrow I'll try a lamb curry. And after that, slow-roast beef. Proper stews, chicken falling off the bone, and maybe even cake. In fact, I may never cook on the stove again.

(I'm kidding about that last part.)
(Oh yes, I found jeans for Their Ladyships.)

raecarson wrote an excellent post on Writer's Jealousy.

(Just for the record, I've always loffed Rae. She is Teh Awesome.)

The post and the comments are all very interesting read. Go read it if you haven't.

Got me to thinking--that self-introspection type of thinking. I once experienced Writer's Jealousy. And the bitterness against publishers that often goes along with it, and the sour grapes and so on...

It was early on in my career, and shortly after I'd moved to another country where the social structure wasn't what I was used to, blah, blah, and I had a hard time adjusting and coping. I wasn't having as much progress in my career as I wanted, and instead of picking up my game (which is what I really should have been doing), I started laying blame everywhere but me.

Yet I kept slogging on in my apprenticeship, because I had The Dream, and The Dream had already proven its resilience through Grad-course writing classes (talk about an incestuous hive of jealous go-nowhere writers!) and almost-but-not-quite television scripts.

I hung out with the local band of writers, I went to the local writers' festivals, and I maintained my ties with previous writer orgs I had from my home country.

One day (dunno when), I noticed a contrast between all the groups I associated with. Half the groups were a bunch of bitter whiner-babies and the other half weren't. Of the half that were, very few were published and scantily at that. The half that weren't whiner-babies? They had an increasing level of member success. We weren't talking half-baked self-publishing stuff, but some major book contracts and repeated short-story successes.

"Oh," I said to myself as I received enlightenment in a bowl of rice. "Attitude is everything."

I learned the following lessons:

1. Do not be jealous of other writers. It is not skill and beauty alone that determine success. It's a whole host of reasons.
2. Do not be bitter against publishers. It is not their job to reward a job well done, like a teacher giving out A+'s. It's their job to take a gamble on a commodity they believe they can convince people to buy. Art has nothing to do with it.
3. Ditch the whiner-babies and go hang out with the success stories. It will rub off, especially if you pay attention.
4. Ultimately, I, alone, am responsible for putting myself in the place where success will find me.
5. Writing stuff will get me somewhere. Whining will not.


What writerly lessons have you learned?

Good: I get to work in a library without a single patron in sight!

Bad: Scanning 55,000 books is tedious.

Ugly: Librarians in their "slouch clothes". {g}

Nah, it ain't so bad, our library stocktake. It's a bit of a change from what we normally do, and I enjoy change. Gives me room to stretch.

Second GBU list:

Good: discovering books you didn't know existed in the collection, like the musical score to the national anthems of every single country on earth (for piano!)

Bad: being unable to check said item out. (There's a freeze on checking books in or out of the library, and even if there wasn't, the anthem score is in the reserves. Bummer. Maybe I'll get 'em to make an exception for me after stocktake.)

Ugly: allergies from knocking the dust of the Dusties. (Dusties are books in a library's collection that have never been checked out.) Also, discovering entire ranges of reserve items that were mis-catalogued.

The Australians have wisely set their financial year to end 30 June (and the new one start 1 July). The initial primary benefit of this is that it doesn't clash with the calendar year and all the holiday hoopla that happens in December.

So one can spend money and hop in the ol' caravan for a couple of weeks away over the New (Calendar) Year without having to worry about having to get one's finances squared away first.

Why the mid-calendar year deadline? Not sure. I suspect it may have something to do with the 1915 Income Tax Act that moved the collection of income taxes from local state governments to the Federal government. (Am researching, but haven't come up with a definite answer yet. If I find one, I might post the answer here, if I can be bothered. Then again, who can be bothered knowing more about taxes than necessary?)

FYI: Any reference to a financial year is from when the financial year began: the tax year that ended last week was Financial Year 2008. We are now into day four of Financial Year 2009.

There's a little Australianism called EOFYS (or the unacronymized version: End of Financial Year Sale). Related to a Stocktake Sale, EOFYS is a great time to go out and score bargains as lots of shops and companies get rid of stuff. I scored a WiiFit for just over a hundred bucks AU. Unfortunately, I couldn't get the WiiSport Pack one place was bundling with it, as they had completely sold out in the first two hours of their sale. (Dunno what they're going to do for the rest of the fortnight-long sale.) So I went somewhere else that matched their price for me. Competition is fierce during EOFYS.

General Trivia:

• Taxes are collected by the Australian Tax Office (ATO) and every taxable person has (or should have) a Tax File Number (TFN), almost the equivalent of the American Social Security Number. Almost.^[1]
  
• The Australian equivalent of an American W-2 form is called a "group certificate".
  
• There is no equivalent to the 1040EZ form. Everyone pretty much fills out the same form.
  
• The people clever enough to be computer literate and have simple-ish tax situations file their taxes through a computer program called eTax^[2], available as a free download from the Australian Tax Office.
  
• Tax Deadline Day (equivalent of US's 15 April) is the most appropriate 31 October.
  
• Australians get tax breaks for contributing to the Australian film industry. (No, this doesn't mean movie tickets are tax deductible...but they should be.)

---

^[1] Unlike the SSN, the TFN is only used for tax identification purposes, whereas the SSN is often used as a generic serial number. When I lived in the US, I got mine when I was just a wee tiddler, and it was used on my driver's license, as my university ID, and all sorts of things.
^[2] eTax quite a clever little thing with little explanatory help links everywhere, and some impressively subtle hand-holding. I've used it for the past seven or eight years or so. Definitely a lot better than filling out forms by hand. Those whose taxes are complex or who can't be bothered doing their own use a tax accountant. Those who are not clever enough to do their own or hire an accountant generally get screwed.

If I had the time and the equipment, I would so love to study the common head louse and see if I could find a way of easily disabling its life cycle.

First Ladyship is constantly getting head lice, and I am constantly having to fight them. The maldison shampoo is becoming ineffective, and the conditioner and fine-tooth comb is tedious and not as successful as I would hope. (Also, First Ladyship hates being "debugged".)

But if I could find a way of disrupting their life cycle, like rendering them sterile, or preventing newly-hatched lice from maturing, or changing their digestion so they starve to death before reproducing, I would be a happy pseudobiologist.

And if whatever I discovered was safe for humans, I would be a rich pseudobiologist.

Meanwhile, I can't wait until that nit-removal salon they have in Sydney and/or Melbourne opens a branch in Perth.

These from mnfaure, an expat like me.

( (The) Actor )

( Composing )

( Faith )

( Expat )

( Dedication )

---

It doesn't count as insomnia if one wakes up at 6am.

I live in Australia. I didn't always live here. I grew up in another country and emigrated here as an adult. That gives me an observational advantage, in that I see the things that most foreigners wouldn't think to ask about Australia and most Australians would take for granted.

For example...

Australians navigate their cities thanks to the help of a mapbook commonly referred to (at least in Western Australia) as a "UBD".^[1]

Wanna know where you're going? Pull out the trusty, rusty ol' UBD.

It's not uncommon for your mates to include the UBD page number and grid reference on an invite to a party. After all, everyone's got a copy of the UBD in the bottom of their car (and if they don't, guaranteed a random stranger does).

A UBD is indispensable. You simply cannot navigate Perth (or any Aussie city) without one.

This was quite different from the system of address coordinates used in Salt Lake. Imagine a giant XY grid, where home numbers are not ordered according to how many houses you are from the beginning of the street, but your ultimate location on the ubergrid. Streets, likewise, have a coordinate. So, 3475 E 2100 S is an address so easy to find that any yutz who passed 8th grade math could find it. (What about the streets with "real" names, like Orana Drive? No prob. They, too, had a coordinate number, easily looked up in the Salt Lake phone book.)

Now, try finding 17 Banksia Road, Cooloongup, Australia. See what I mean? In order to know where you're going, you need a UBD.

At first I was bemused by this utter dependence on a map book (with a good 400+ pages or so), but have since come to accept it as a part of Aussie life, like jelly fish and double-gees.

---

^[1] UBD is a company that publishes map books. There are others, but for the most part, UBD is the one everyone tends to get each year.

Poor kitty. My cat, Basil (Brush, not Fawlty) was rather beaten up today by a neighbor cat, known as Slinky Malinky.

Slinky used to be a well-behaved cat in the neighborhood, following his Mom to and from the bus stop as she went to work. He used to stay on his side of the street, and flee in fear from any creature or car.

But lately, he's gotten some balls.

A few months ago he attacked and presumably ate the neighbor's guinea pig. Last month he attacked the same neighbor'd dog (in their back yard), leaving a nasty scratch across her belly.

The past week Slinky's been sitting on the border of our property and he and Basil have been making loud warning noises to each other. I've gone out and frightened Slinky Malinky off, but yesterday, he didn't wanna go. I pretty much had to kick him to make him scram, and that's *after* I dumped a glass of water on him.

He's one determined bugger. I'm gonna have to beat some territorial attitude out of him. Normally I'm fond of cats, but this one's lost my respect.

So today my neighbor reported that Basil and Slinky Malinky had a rather nasty brawl on her front lawn. She managed to frighten off Slinky, but by then, it was too late. Basil lost the brawl.

There's a snowfall of white fur all over her front lawn. This battle did not go well. I suspect Slinky's unneutered, not a responsible owner choice. (Me, I believe *all* cats in Australia should be spayed/neutered, unless you have a license for breeding.)

Poor Basil's been injured, but I'm not sure the extent. His Grace had to go find him, and has dealt with him, as I had music students at the time. Right now, Basil is curled up under the couch, clearly in some pain. I'll check on him tomorrow. If he's got some serious issues, like raw wounds or worse, I'll take him to the vet.

My poor kitty! He was my first baby. I hope he's going to be all right.

I also hope my daughter's not prescient. For the past two weeks she's been asking if, when Basil dies, can we get a dog?

Just so you know I've written over 1200 words of fiction this week, ones I'm happy to keep for now.

Goal reached.

I promise I'll write more before the end of the week.

...I have realised that when I whine about writing and life, I'm not whining about writing at all, but life, especially the things I think I can't, or know I can't, change.

I'm unconsciously applying metaphor. How writerly of me.

Things I Can't Change, but Wish I Could:

1. The past.
2. Time, esp. the movement thereof.
3. The actions and opinions of others.
4. Bad Juju.

(I, at least, still function under the belief that I can change the opinion of God from time to time.)

Things I Think I Can't Change, but Probably Could:

0. As soon as I realise I can change something, I tend to. (There are a few exceptions, but that is due to something else, usually behaviour, needing to be changed first.)

---

I had a dream last night that God gave someone a candle and He gave me a Super Trouper. The person who got the candle looked at it and pondered its meaning. Me, my hand came into contact with the Super Trouper and I got burned. Feel free to analyse.

Time to whine about (lack of) writing again.

This week I got about five hundred new words of fixon. Granted, most of them sucked because they had no voice to them. (Do give me points for them being grammatically and logically correct.)

I hate it when that happens to me. If I'm not in the zone (for reasons usually involving hormones), I lose my voice.

So I'll be cutting out those five hundred words and tossing them into the "counts towards the million" pile, 'cause I can't use 'em anywhere else.

The other week when I was horribly sick with a cold, I had entire days of nothing but staying home and being sick. I got so much writing and editing done. My soul was happy.

Now that I've had a taste of writing as much as I can, I find I want more.

But regular life has resumed. I want to write more, am constantly wishing I could write more, but I don't.

( Several factors contribute to this: )

Now, am I doing the right thing for letting these things be more important than writing? Family and day job having a higher priority is understandable. But the rest? I'm starting to regret having so many music students, and I already regret that housework must be done.

I should make a goal to write a thousand words this week. Preferrably good ones.

A young engaged couple were in a fatal car accident the day before their wedding. When they both arrive up at the Pearly Gates, they were rather despondent at their unmarried state.

Upon meeting Saint Peter, the couple inquire as to the possibility of getting married in heaven.

"Hang on," says Peter. "I'll check." And away he goes.

Time passes: hours, then days, then weeks. While the couple are waiting, they start talking about how wonderful it would be to be married. But then doubt creeps into their conversation. What if the marriage didn't work out? Would they be able to get a divorce in heaven?

After three months Saint Peter returns with an answer: "Yes, you can get married in heaven."

So the couple ask if divorce was possible.

Saint Peter gives them the evil eye. "C'mon! It took me three months to find a priest up here. How long do you think it'll take me to find a lawyer?"

I feel like a writer today, even though I haven't cranked out any words yet. (Don't worry; I will.)

I have one story rewrite request from an editor and another short story that wants to be written. I've got two on the Orkshop, but I'll let them sit and moulder for awhile.

When one is not thinking about one's writing, one is thinking about writing. I don't mean, "Oh, I should be writing," but rather, meditating upon the craft and putting two and two together in one's head.

I find my most successful stories are the ones that reveal themselves to me backwards--IOW, I know the ending first. I'm told mystery writers work this way. I don't blame 'em. When I know the ending of a story, then I can work backwards, laying out all the events that lead up to that.

But if I work front-to-back, I end up with weak endings. Why? Dunno. Once I figure that out, I will have solved another journeyman's problem.

Meanwhile, working stuff out back-to-front seems to create the most satisfactory stories. This may be because I already know what the reader needs to know.

Back later (maybe tomorrow) with a short story. Really, I'm procrastinating housework, exercise and editing those stories that need it.

moar funny pictures

And not just because I'm partial to The Actor. Guy really shines in the 3rd season.

Top three things I like to hear from editors:

1. "Dear Your Grace, Thanks for sending us this story. We'd like to buy it for our next issue..."

2. "We liked the story, but we had a few questions [explanation here]. If you rewrite it, we'll look at it again..."

3. "Although we won't be buying this story, we'd like to see more work from you."


Bottom three things I hate hearing from editors:

8. "Dear author, [generic rejection slip]"

9. "Dear past contributor, thank you for your interest in our magazine, however, due to [whatever reason], we're closing our doors and issue 17 will be our last..."

10. [silence]

The fault of ccfinlay and sksperry:

It was the big National Chess Tournament and chess players from all over the country had gathered to the convention hotel to compete, socialise and boast.

In the lobby of the hotel a bunch of grand masters were loudly sharing some of their best checkmates, much to the annoyance of the other guests.

Finally the manager comes up to them and tells them to shut up or leave. When questioned why, he explained, "We don't allow chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."

---

For those who care about such things, my chess rating is 1036, thanks to one Dave Van Langveld. Cheers, mate. You got me out of the squalor levels. (Not that I play much, nowadays.)

Everyone sing the chorus: woe is me!

This week I have had a terrible head cold. Normally, this is a very good reason to call in a sickie and stay home in bed, doped to the eyeballs, and get better.

Not me.

I was one of the lucky ones. (And remember folks, not all luck is good luck.) I got called in to do some emergency desk shifts at work. Why? Because everyone else was sick. Unlike me, with my mere head cold, the rest of them were all off with a nasty flu virus (NOT H1N1, alas. If it was, they would have closed the library and I could have recovered in peace).

So I got to go in and spread my cold germs to the general public. Joy.

Friday I put my foot down and said I refused to come into work. And I didn't. I spent the day on the couch watching Katherine Hepburn movies and being doped to the eyeballs.

Result: head cold is now shifting to a chest cold.

On the other hand, my day at home gave me several hours of uninterrupted writing time. I was quite pleased and the resultant work made for a calmer, happier me.

Today, same recipe as day before, only throw in an internet connection to allow me some crits on the Orkshop.

Tomorrow I shall also be ill, but am still going to church. Normally, I'd give church a miss when riddled with illness, but tomorrow's gonna be too exciting to miss.

1. Combined Rockingham and Kwinana ward meeting, because...
2. The ward is gonna be redivided. Huge 200+ R'ham ward and teeny little ~50 Kwinana branch are gonna be redone for better size balance. Big question: where's the boundary gonna be drawn? My vote's going to Safety Bay Road. Y'all may not care, but this is terribly exciting to us here at home.
3. Also in that same day, the quasi-goddaughter is getting her baby blessing. Dad's side of the family consists of a maximum of ten or fewer people who will attend (including the slightly-estranged sister who I hope does come because I really like her). Mom's side of the family consists of at least eighty people who may attend. (She comes from a really big clan.)
4. Between these events, this'll be the biggest attendance of a sacrament meeting I've ever attended in Australia, and possibly the US. Cool.
5. I get to play the piano. Hope they're hymns I know.

Meanwhile, my drugs are wearing off and I simply must top up.

P.S. Nearly missed my AA anniversary. Happy Anniversary, Richard dear.