Monthly Archives: July 2008

Sticky Notes

by

I used to call my bullet posts “sticky notes” because they reminded me of all the little things I scribble on, well, sticky notes (Post-It being a specific BRAND of same) to write about later, except that I rarely, actually do.

This post is actually about the sticky notes themselves. You see, when I was purging my desk of the remnants of my life in loans, I also threw out big stacks of sticky notes. Why? Because these were the free ones, given as marketing toys by various title companies and mortgage lenders, and with the current state of the mortgage industry, keeping them around was too depressing.

I look at the company names and think, “I wonder if Amy/Rachel/Tina/Nicole/Joe/Mike is still employed. I wonder if they’re still in the industry.”

The thing about the real estate industry, whether it’s the part where you sell houses, or the part where you finance them, is that, like a sticky note stuck to the bottom of your shoe, it stays with you. You may think you’ve left, but then three years later, you’ll find yourself telling a friend, “Let me look at your Good Faith Estimate before you sign it, and just make sure you’re not being overcharged, or underquoted,” and someone overhears you, and, and, and…

Or two years later, in the midst of a mortgage industry crisis a recruiter calls you, and asks if you want to give up your self-employment as a writer and come back to work, and it’s all you can do not to rudely laugh in their face, when you ask. “Are there actually companies still running?”

The thing is, a lot of what’s happening is NOT the fault of individual lenders, or a problem that originated in the industry. It’s cascade failure. It’s a last-straw scenario. It’s, “fuel is getting more expensive, but we need fuel to deliver goods, so to offset it we’re cutting jobs,” followed by “honey, I’m looking but no one in my field is hiring,” followed by having to choose between paying for your house or buying food, and, while it’s true that there ARE predatory lenders, and always have been, most of these companies are completely above-board, and if their customers didn’t read the part of the contract where it says in really big, black letters, “THIS IS AN ADJUSTABLE. IT WILL GO UP IN 2 YEARS, AND WILL FLUCTUATE THEREAFTER,” it really isn’t their fault.

For that matter, not all adjustables are bad. There’s a reason they exist, and there are times when they’re extremely advantageous.

But it’s more than I can explain on a sticky note.

Moonlight and Guava Puree

by

If there were a diet pill that would change my blood chemistry so that mosquitoes would stop treating me like prime snacking material, I’d totally take it.

As I write this, I’m pleasantly cool, despite the fact that the temperature was 104 at 5 PM, and still reads around 88. About an hour ago, I left the air conditioned house and went outside where there was a warm breeze blowing. The light from the half moon was shining on the pool, and the wind was creating soft ripples. I was hot and cranky, and wanted not to be hot and cranky. We’d been out all day, came home overtired, and while we’d both napped from six to nine, Fuzzy was still (and is still) sound asleep.

Obviously, I’m awake.

The pool was beckoning, so I dashed back inside for a big fluffy beach towel, stripped off the cotton tank and pajama bottoms I was wearing, and stepped into the water, scaring a gecko that was sitting on the ledge of the planter along the back wall of the pool. (It did not fall in, thankfully.)

I didn’t swim laps, but I did grab a foam kickboard, and float around a little – I was trying not to get my hair wet because I hadn’t bothered with a swim bap – while Miss Cleo nosed around in the ivy for more small lizards to chase.

I didn’t stay in long, only 20 minutes, but it was enough to cool my skin, soothe my mood, and refresh my brain.

As I got out, and wrapped my towel around me, I felt the warmth of the pebble-textured deck beneath my bare feet, and realized there were no bugs buzzing close to me. It may be horribly hot here, but the lack of significant rain and relatively light humidity – especially for Texas in summer – means a dearth of mosquitoes.

I am not complaining, though I believe this may be why we don’t have any visible writing spiders in the back yard this year, and while I generally hate being able to see spiders, I miss those pretty, talented arachnids.

* * * * *

I am hungry, which makes sense since we ate ‘breakfast’ at 4 PM, and otherwise I’ve just had coffee drinks and bottled water.

Fuzzy took me to Zaguan for that meal, and I fell in love with the place. The food is fresh and real – I could taste the distinct flavor of every vegetable in my scrambled eggs, and the grilled plaintains were just the right level of sweetness. The mango-papaya smoothie I had (it came with my meal) was literally mango, papaya, and chilled water – no sorbet or fruit juice or sweetener. It was delightfully orange and really refreshing.

Since Zaguan is also a bakery, and I cannot resist a good pastry, I brought home two chocolate croissants for tomorrow’s breakfast (one for each of us), and a pair of guava-filled alfajores which are traditional Latin American cookies, though the use of guava is NOT traditional.

These have holes in the center a la Linzer tarts, and the guava puree poking up was healthy and flushed pink and somehow sexy to the point of being obscene, and right now I can’t think of anything better than to go brew a mug of tea and eat the cookies.

Bibliotica Lives!

by

It’s been roughly two months since I’ve updated my bookblog at Bibliotica, but I have been reading a lot. Most recently, I finished Water for Elephants and I’m currently reading The Man of My Dreams by the same person who wrote Prep.

While I haven’t yet re-vamped the skin (need to do that soon), I have added one of those astore pages, you know, the kinds that sell Amazon books and give you a kickback? I have NOT linked to it in this article because it’s not quite live yet. Look for it on Sunday or Monday.

I have two more novellas to read before Algonkian. I’m in this zone where I’m both terrified and excited. Expect that to be the case until August 4th, when I leave.

And keep thinking good thoughts, please?

Kierkegaard & Me

by

Your result for The which philosophy suits your personality? Test…

Personal Religion, by Kierkegaard

40% Nature, 54% Rationalism, 30% Religion, 52% Freedom, 86% Individuality, 42% Power and 52% Uncertainty!

You scored highest on the variable Individuality. Individuality was an important part of Kierkegaard’s philosophy.

Søren Kierkegaard, 1813- 1855, Denmark.

Kierkegaard thought true religion should be found within yourself and not in uniformity. He did not oppose Christianity, but he opposed the Christian Church. The Church preached faith for the masses by rituals and generalization, which makes one lose its identity and leads to despair. True peace can only be found within yourself. As more and more people claim to have a personal belief/religion instead of conforming to a church, I think Kierkegaard was ahead of his time.

Possible results:

Nature: the Scala Naturae by Aristotle

Rationality: Cogito Ergo Sum by Descartes

Religion: Proof God Exists by Saint Augustine

Freedom: Existentialism by Sartre

Individuality: Personal Religion by Kierkegaard

Power: Will to Power by Nietzsche

Uncertainty: Agnosticism by Hume

No high variable: Synthetic Perception by Kant

Take The which philosophy suits your personality? Test at HelloQuizzy

The Ever Spinning Wheel

by

In my day job, I’m often called to write about things like how to insure muscle cars and street rods, with special attention paid to things like how after market upgrades impact one’s insurance premium. It’s not very exciting stuff, though it pays well enough to give me the freedom to work on my own stuff, which is a lot more than most writers can say.

Since I don’t like the notion of sounding like Bambi when I write, I often research some of the parts that are mentioned, and one of the least expensive and most common upgrades I see are to wheels. In fact, Bullet wheels come up with impressive frequency.

If you’ve never considered upgrading the wheels on your car, let me tell you that for such a small thing, they make a huge impact. They’re the automotive equivalent of a signature piece of jewelry that enhances one’s outfit in just the right fashion. They are bling, but they’re bling even neophyte tuners can afford.

Shiny, stylish, and offered with free shipping as well as free mount and balance services, these wheels would make anyone stop and take notice of your car. Even better, most of them are under $200.

You may remember that I wrote about spying a vintage Mustang for sale in the Albertsons parking lot a few months ago. These wheels would have been the perfect finishing touch for that car, and I still wish we’d had the cash on hand to get it. As it is, we drive a Subaru Forester, and modding a Forester is sort of like putting a spoiler on a tricycle. There is no point.

Even so, I can dream about shiny metal rims every time I’m called upon to wax rhapsodic about the Silver Bullitt Mustang.

Jump Start

by

In this week’s Write on Wednesday, my friend Becca asks:
So, how about you? Do you ever feel the need to jump start your writing? What drains the energy from your “writing mind”? What do you do when your creative battery dies?

Muses are fickle, and the energy that powers them is equally so. Sometimes, I find excuses not to write, but most of the time the urge is ripped from me by something mundane. I don’t write well when I’m stressed over money, so it’s really a good thing that the whole “starving artist” thing has gone out of style. (The whole black and beret look has, as well, but I don’t care. I like black, and berets work for me.) Other than that, when I’m tired, when I’m hot, when I’m hungry or thirsty before I face the keyboard (as opposed to becoming so during a session, because I’m so absorbed), all those things make me throw up my hands in despair, or they would, if I had the energy to do so.

Most of the time, I can jump-start myself. I’ll re-read part of a favorite novel, watch a few episodes of The West Wing, Gilmore Girls, or anything Whedonesque, run through the entire soundtrack of a musical (lately I’ve been alternating Legally Blonde, Rent, and Hairspray, and I’m at the point where I can sing and ride the stationery bike (simultaneously) for the entire first act of the first of those, which, let me tell you, is not easy. (But I love to belt, even though too much belting is really unhealthy.)

When music, books, and other people’s snappy, fast-paced dialogue doesn’t work, I think about cooking, because food and words are completely intertwined in my world. Usually I’ll bake. Tonight, I made enchiladas, which I’d never made before. (I sort of made them up as I went along. They were good. I used grilled chicken that had been marinated in lime juice, garlic salt, and vodka (we were out of tequila).)

When food doesn’t work, which happens when it’s been sunny and hot for too many days in a row, I call on external help. Specifically, there is a collection of friends, who know who they are, who always manage to leave me abuzz with energy and ideas, even if all we talk about is how tired we both are, or what movies we saw the previous weekend.

And if nothing works? Well, sometimes I do have to listen to my body, and sleep even when I know I SHOULD be writing, or finish work before I write something fun, and usually after a few days I’m back in the groove.

Alternatively, I move furniture around…

Before you ask…

by

I haven’t taken pictures of my new Abode of Writeyness yet, because while the furniture is in there, I won’t be able to afford money for ART until after my conference, and the walls are bare, and the bookshelves aren’t organized…and, and, and…

I did purge all mortgage-related things from my desk. (If anyone needs a rubber stamp that says “computer generated original” let me know), including title fee books for three different title companies, business cards for appraisers I haven’t contacted in three years, and more “sign here” flags than I care to count.

Among the stuff I also cleared from my desk included information on various no balance transfer fee offers from credit card companies (I kept one), and an entire box of sticky-backed prongs for gluing into legal folders.

It was at once freeing and sort of sad clearing out the last vestiges of my old career.

Horoscopical

by

I don’t generally put much stock in horoscopes. Oh, they’re fun, in the way fortune cookies are fun, but I am, at heart a Skeptic. Still, I like to read Rob Brezsny‘s predictions because he spins words so well.

Tonight, his words for my sign (LEO) are:

This oracle was originally commissioned by a spiritual wilderness school to train its students in high-stress meditation. It has been tested by disciplined explorers who’ve learned to be fluid and resourceful in the midst of natural chaos. Now it’s being made available to you, Leo — just in time for the last stretch of your dash (or crawl) across the wasteland. By contemplating the code phrase that appears at the end of this message, you will discover the key for turning poisons into medicine, taking advantage of your weaknesses, and knowing your direction without a compass. Here it is: Love the beauty and intelligence that are hidden in your darkness.