A small dilemma (and an ask)

Firstly, apologies to everyone who’s been expecting a thing a day. I’ve been busy with pestillence, family and (again) waiting for someone who could help me to get their finger out of the metaphorical divot.

All my loyal readers will know I’m on Smashwords now and have my first work allegedly up and multi-compatible.

C'mon. Buy the dang thing. It’s only two freaking dollars. I need the money.

Ahem.

Anyway. I have three other short tales ready to rock [except one, more on this later] and I would like to ask you a few things:

1) Which of my other tales would you like to see in a professional package first?

2) What sort of publishing schedule should I try for?

3) How in the hell can I do a decent cover for my re-imagining of Puss in Boots?

A polite request

I’m trying to raise some moneys for my next trip to Thailand [ticket price $2500] by selling my written works on/via Smashwords.

They need covers.

I have the artistic skill of a distantly-deceased moose.

So. Therefore, I must ask kindly for someone to design front covers for RTFM, Nor Gloom of Night and perhaps Good Boy if I can get it somewhere where I like it a bit better.

I might even publish a fantasy story I’ve had on the backburner for a while, called Of Cats and Kings. It’s basically a rewrite of Puss in Boots from the POV of the cat.

Want to see it? I’ll be posting it tomorrow.

Covers need to feature my pen name [C M Weller] and the title. The recommended size for the cover image is 1600 pixels wide by 2400 tall. I’m guessing it also helps if the artwork is also interesting without being spoileriffic.

And considering that these are all short tales [maybe not with Good Boy after I’ve rewritten it…] this may be something of a challenge.

As I am currently skint, the only thing I can offer is credit where credit is due. Links to art sharing accounts can be discussed.

Thanks in advance for your time, effort and understanding.

Technically technical difficulties

Okay, so here’s the scoop.

While I was over in Thailand, I used a (gasp) foreign chip so I wouldn’t be landed upon by positively ginormous roaming charges. And so I could, you know, call home without also gathering a huge debt.

Now that I’m home and back on my regular chip, my computer refuses to recognise that there’s photos in there at all. And I know for a fact that I have almost three hundred of the little buggers (and some videos) hogging space on my iPhone.

I would like to have these images, moving and still, on my computer. I am also not technically adept enough to do the major fiddling required to move data from one device to another without; huge hiccups, installing anything out of my budget ($0), or risking my hard drive to unexpected malware via the freeware option.

Keep in mind that I’m practically a noob when it comes to doing this stuff. I need the “for dummies” version that’s been dumbed down even further. Helpful pictures would also be nice.

So. Calling all Technogeeks: How do I get data from my iPhone when my computer [aka the bit that runs iTunes and iPhoto] swears blind that the data’s not there?

Almost there!

Okay, so I’ve almost transferred all my files and folders from the dying laptop to my new lunchbox Mac. Yay.

I’ve installed Minecraft - essential!

And now I’m trying to find where the save games are so I can get on with the MathMagician Adventure Map.

Alas, things have changed and I can’t find the bugger.

I know it’s in ~/Library/Application Support… but I can’t remember where I go after that.

I can has help from the Minecraft Boffins?

So it’s been a tad of a rollercoaster, lately.

I got my PC running again after months of idleness, so now I can write my blog on that. Yay.

Alas, what I can no longer do is work on the adventure map until I learn/figure out a way to export a Mac saved game to a PC without the whole thing throwing a massive wobbler.

My PC is about eight years old since the last hardware upgrade. Which is about 80 in computer years. I refuse point blank to buy the latest and most expensive version of the Windoze virus because it’s buggier than a backyard barbie.

That, and I’d have to find/download/re-install all the software I’ve acquired over the years.

Face it, I’ve just got this system to the point where I only have to reboot it every other hour just to make it go. I’m not about to “upgrade” to a shittier system that BSOD’s as soon as I cough or look at it funny.

Anyway. My old mac - a second-hand laptop - is now resting in the quantum uncertainty state between completely fucked and just barely viable enough to spit out the burned DVD backup disk I left in there before it dies for good.

I need about 2k to get a new mac of any warrant. 5-6k if I want the uber-impressive mac tower. And given my history of burning out macs, I think I’ll go with the 2k monitor version rather than the 6k tower. [Those numeral amounts are dollars. The four key on this keyboard doesn’t work. Sigh.]

Thanks to the hound, the car, the kids, the holidays, and the upcoming trip to Thailand… we’re skint. Broke. Without significant monetary resources.

I need income.

My skills are limited - wordsmithery, some artistic merit, and the ability to spot most tropes at a standing start. My health and stamina are not that great [spur in my left heel, possible arthritic buildup in my knees rheumatism in my wrists, asthma and a wonky back] and I can drive a car if I’ve had a coffee because I also have stress-related sleep issues. Whee fun.

What jobs are out there for a nerd who regularly breaks technology in the course of everyday use? What jobs are there for a writer who also needs to be available to pick up the kids? What can I possibly do after being out of the workforce for twelve-so years and out of the technology loop for over a decade?

I can’t afford to go back to school. I’ve had incredibly bad luck with teaching myself. About all I can do reliably is write and draw. And periodically mock things.

Please help. What work is out there for me?

I’m taking my time with the sewer level.

It’s almost a month later, and I’m still working on this thing. As I write this [24 Mar] I am STILL stuffing dispensers with brownish objects and occasional representative junk.

And by “representative junk”, I mean: leather for dead animals, raw fish for fish, empty bottles, string, lilly pads, grass, iron fences, gravel, slime balls and pieces  of paper. Because it’s not just poo and wee that winds up in our drains, ya know.

Oh, and the odd stack of silverfish eggs ‘cause I want this sewer to be overrun with “rats”.

In the process of building this thing, I up and decided to add some interesting titbits about sewers and sanitation into the entire labyrinth. I now know more about such things than a mere mortal really should.

Except for one thing. As an Aussie, I felt I had to add a bit of trivia concerning sanitation in our fair country. As an internet dweller, I could not find one crumb of such info. I asked MeMum [Hi!] who is old enough to remember life before television(ghasp), and also recalls a few things about when sewers actually came in.

I picked on Sydney because it’s the one city in Australia everyone knows about. That also doesn’t possess an identically-named city somewhere else in the world. I know from movies that “night soil carts” [look it up] were employed in Sydney and other Australian cities as late as the 1960’s, and my fellow Brisbanites were joking about sewering certain suburbs in the '70’s.

The closest she could guess [in between repeated enquiries as to whether I’d looked EVERYWHERE - and Yes, I have.] was the 1970’s.

Does anyone similarly fecaly fascinated have a firmer date[Full credit is all I can offer, alas]?

Dear Haters

You need to stop. Seriously. Anger destroys yourself, your family and the things you care for. While I understand that you have an innate fear/dislike of everything “different”, I have to impart some shocking news.

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS “NORMAL”.

There is “average”, which is a nebulous enough to encapsulate a group, but the “average” person is brown, a little under 6 feet tall, most likely bi and not christian. Shocker, that. [And yes, I pulled those statistics out of my butt. I’m adult enough to welcome corrections from a statistician]

“White privilege” exists. It is the privilege of pretending that other melanin-deficient folks are not allowing or causing horrible things to happen to the melanin-enhanced. It is the privilege of denial. It is the ability to say, “Nothing is wrong where I’m standing” because you - yes you - have invisible advantages.

Acknowledge this. Open your eyes and turn around. Learn the thousands of unthinking or hateful things you do each day to the “different” and make a conscious decision to at least cut down.

Learn.

In knowledge, there is the ability to say, “I know.” You can never say “I understand,” because as a “white”, you can’t. You can say, “I’m trying to understand,” or “I’m learning about this,” because that’s the best we can do.

You can become better.

About fifty years ago, it was legal to refuse service to the “different”, even though they were the majority of the population. We do not celebrate the day that the very last “No Coloreds” sign went permanently down from a shop window because we know that that is just one step on a very long road to moral recovery.

I refuse to say “white” or “black” when talking about people’s skins, since they are hate words. They divide a marvellous spectrum into two very dull groups. They trivialise a difference that, although superficial, encapsulates a can of worms the size of this entire freaking planet.

I have difficulty with labels and pigeon-holes. I am, as far as I’m aware, “white”. Except I’m not white. I’m mostly beige. With mottled spots of darker skin where the sun has repeatedly touched it. Even the whitest of “whites” are not white. Albinos are pale, yes, but not white. Snow is white. Clouds can be white. People aren’t.

As a “white”, I have the ability to ignore the horrible things other “whites” are doing to the rest of the world. But I don’t. I’m well aware of what people of my skin tone are doing. I am ashamed, so I don’t speak out. I am afraid of retribution from those who would group me with the ones who actually do the evil. I feel like I’m not allowed to say, “I see this as horrible, too,” or, “how can I help?”

The minute you stick a label on someone, you diminish them. The minute you acknowledge a label on yourself, you accept the assumptions others make because of that label.

And I’m talking all of them. Especially the hateful ones. This is not limited to colour or nationality. All the labels. The ones about sexual preference, body type, weight and even creed.

Islam is not terrorism.

Fat is not ugly.

Black is not criminal.

Christian does not have to be oppressive.

White does not have to be normal.

Straight does not have to rule over everything else.

You - yes, you - are different. You are unique. So is your neighbour. Instead of reaching for the vitriol and pouring your hate into the aether, stop. Search out information and knowledge that challenges your point of view.

It’s a big world. Full of both the horrible and wonderful.

If we each made the effort to learn, instead of boxing things up in ugly labels, I think the world would be a better place.

There’d be less reason to hate, for starters.

So, to everyone who is offended by “whites” and the things they do:

How can I help?

Occupy Needs YOU!

If you live near an Occupy camp, or feel any kind of horror at the fact that the brutal arm of injustice is currently destroying books… Occupy Needs You!

To turn up.

Bring books, sleeping bags, tarps, food… Anything you can spare. Everything you can carry.

Bring them to the rally points and bring a message with you.

Occupy now needs to keep a watch on the police, to be aware of raids. People in the camps need to be able to grab what’s most precious to them and move at a moment’s notice. We can not allow this to happen again.

Occupy needs to sue the police in a class action suit against the loss of the property they are now destroying. Expense is the only language they understand. Make this as expensive as all hell.

And, most important of all, Occupy needs to get right back into the park, stronger than ever before. Show them that they can make things unpleasant, but they can not kill the spirit of justice. You can each contribute to something big, and something big needs to happen in America.

You can’t make them pay. Yet. You can make things awkward. You can make them inconvenient. You can make them expensive. You can make oppression more effort than listening.

This is a war on people who don’t want to spend anything on you. Make that impossible. It’s the only way to make them hear what you’re trying to tell them.