Writer Rants: Breath vs Breathe
This is one of the ones that chafes my niblets something fierce.
Ranting in three… two…
Words an author never wants to hear
“We think your novel will make an excellent kids’ series.”
“How about [Completely wrong actor] to play the part of [Your hero(ine)]?”
“We love it, but can we cut the [Entire point of the whole damn book]?”
Hey, Hollywood. How about you trust that we did our best to write a good book and at least try to be faithful to the actual content?
Not that I’ve got close to getting there, yet. But I have seen enough books murdered by the hollywood process to know a little something. Between whitewashing, cutting exposition in favour of big boom or T&A, or just plain rewriting the whole damn thing… It’s a wonder you still call it movie rights.
It should be called “Title rights” because the thing that winds up on the screen has little to no resemblance to the original.
Hell, if I ever make it that far, I want my manuscript to be murdered by Studio Ghibli. They at least turn out something pretty and nicely surreal. Look what they did to The Little Mermaid, aka Ponyo.
It’s OK to trust in God…
You know damn well there’s a huge, neon rainbow “but” attached to that title.
It’s okay to trust in God (or the Higher Power of your choice)
BUT…
Trust, also, that God gave you brains to think with, ears to listen with, and eyes to see.
Any Higher Power worth the time/energy/effort of worship would know that a bunch of rules written down thousands of years ago may not hold as technology improves, populations build and society changes.
It’s why Jesus said, “If you eat the meat, and believe that you shall die, then you shall die. If you eat the meat and believe that you shall live, than you shall live.”
Like most things written down in the new testament, this is a parable. I see it not just as a parable about food choice, but the laws that are supposed to be “immutable” all over the rest of the Good Book.
I’ve always found it a little odd that various flavours of Christians hold that the words in the Bible are incorruptible… Yet there are more versions and translations and re-vamps of a scripture that’s allegedly incapable of being changed.
If the Bible was completely incorruptible, we’d be reading the old testament in Hebrew and the new in Aramaic, and it would be impossible to translate it into anything else. If God meant the rules written down there to be followed forever, both forbidden food and forbidden deeds would be harmful to those who eat/do them.
Thus, Jesus’ get-out-of-hell card. If you believe a “meat” - a food or a deed - is sinful, then indulging will send you to hell. Death is the standard metaphor in the New Testament for going to Hell, as far as I understand things. If you don’t believe that it’s a sin… Then doing so will not send you there.
Note, however, that there is not one word about your beliefs having any influence whatsoever on anyone else’s journey to Heaven or Hell.
If you, personally, believe that being homosexual is a sin, fine. Don’t be a homosexual. And leave everybody else to believe what they believe.
It’s the same thing Jewish folks do if they see someone eating a ham sandwich. They don’t picket delis or diners. They don’t try to pass laws outlawing the consumption of various portions of dead pig. They don’t spend millions making noise about destroying the pork-eaters.
They get on with their lives. And these guys don’t even follow the New Testament.
You, yes you, the loudmouth my-way-or-the-highway pseudo-Christian, sitting there getting your hate and bile riled up about a handful of rules in the old or the new books… Jesus flat out told you to follow the rules you find divine and shut the fuck up about everyone else.
Remember - the Bible also outlaws consuming shellfish, blended fabrics, shaving, tattoos, wearing gold, braided hair, and endorses slavery, polygamy and many others. If you’re going to cherry-pick the rules to follow, allow others to share the same privilege. And you must also therefore allow that the Christian next to you may have picked a different set of rules to follow.
So trust in God, and the gifts of sight, hearing and most especially thought that He gave you. Use thought the most. Please.
Disaster Cascade
I tripped on a chair, stubbed my toe, and completely bolloxed the heel of the same foot in the space of a few seconds.
In the process of hobbling to bed, I did something horrible to the opposite knee.
I need crutches just to get around, but before I got them, the rheumatism in both my wrists flared up and I needed to put my bracers on.
24 hours later, I’m not that much better.
My heel still hurts like blue raging fuck. My opposite knee got me a handful of metres around the house before quitting on me and having to be treated with Deep Heat and wrapped up. My left wrist is behaving itself (for now) but my right is still aching and in a bracer.
I have a splinter of thistle somewhere in my left foot and I feel it whenever I use my toes for balance. Alas, I can’t see it ‘cause thistle splinters are nigh invisible, the fuckers.
I’m tired 'cause I’ve completely bolloxed my sleep cycle by lying down and taking the weight off my feet and then falling asleep 'cause hobbling around on crutches is fargnaxing hard work in the heat of summer.
If I sit upright at my main computer and actually do stuff, I might stay conscious most of today. I hope.
I had such plans. And then I stubbed my toe which arsed my heel which bolloxed my knee which fucked my wrists which I all need to do the things I planned to get done [that lay in the house that Jack built…].
And it’s not looking good for recovery time. I have shit piling up in the rubbish bins. I had a bait outbreak in the mulch bucket. I have dishwashing and laundry piling up.
And I have to stay off my feet.
Pleh.
Mayhem is not nearly as good at being Mum as I am. Chaos doesn’t even want to try. Hubbie and Mostly Shiftless are busy doing other things and Powerhouse has been taking night shifts and can’t help out.
All for the want of a toe.
At least I can pinpoint the exact moment my life went to shit. ~9PM, Sun 5th of February. That’s when it started.
Most people can’t point to a moment in time and say “there! That’s when it all went to crap!”. I can. I still don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.
Farging roadblocks!
No, this is not about traffic.
I seem to be cursed to stay at or above 91.9 kilos.
I bounced back up into solid 92kilo turf, today. Grrr.
I’m so mad at myself and frustrated and tired and, to add insult to injury, my right knee has decided to join my wrists in the Painful Rheumatism Club.
Which means I more or less have to rely on diet alone on the days when it’s painful to move.
Days like this, I keep wondering what happened to that experiment where they turned fat, lazy mice into thin, energetic mice with some chemical cocktail. How soon is that shit coming to a chemist’s near me? How much longer do I have to wait? Has the whole project been blackballed by the diet industry?
What?
91.9
That’s my weight, today[2nd Feb].
That’s my stumbling block.
Three times, I’ve got down to 91.9 only to yo-yo back up to the next kilo bracket. since I spend a week working off roughly a kilo, I watch those decimals like a hawk. Getting down into the next “kilo zone” is fast becoming an obsession.
Better make certain it’s not a dangerous one, then.
And in the Antiprogress side of things: My bone bruises, especially the one in my left heel, have decided to make walking hell. I limp everywhere at half or less of my normal speed.
Plus: I’m not wandering about and grabbing snacks.
Minus: I’m not exactly exercising, either.
Well, I don’t need to walk to exercise. I can still pedal. And I will.
As soon as I gather the courage to walk as far as the exercise bike.
Feeling heavy
I feel heavy.
Not a physical heaviness. More a spiritual weight that drags me down to the point where I don’t feel like anything can lift me back up.
I don’t know why I’m feeling this down.
The house is clean. I’m on top of the laundry. I’m on top of the dishwashing. I’m on top of the floor - keeping it clean, that is.
I should be on top of the world.
But I’m not.
I feel like if I lie down, I’ll just sink into the centre of the earth.
And nobody would notice.
I want/need to do something stupidly rewarding. Or rewardingly stupid. Something that makes me clap and squeal because it’s all working… and then catch myself out for being a massive nerd/tard.
But I can’t think of anything ‘cause I’m down. Feh.
I’ll play some music and some Minecraft and hope that works.
But don’t worry - by the time you read this, I’ll be long out of this feeling. Or into a new one. I’m very easily distracted :)
America is going to eat itself
…and possibly take most of the world with it.
Just because I haven’t been contributing to the OWS threads, lately, doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping track of things.
One thing I’ve learned from the patterns of history is this: If a nation does not stop itself from an impending fall, it will plummet all the way to the bottom and then some. Especially if it’s been warned by everybody and their kid brother’s dog.
The POTUS is clearly not in charge. He has to bow to the will and whim of his owners.
So does the senate, and every other elected official out there.
The corpratocracy will keep abusing the system, keep wringing every last groat out of the monetary system until all that is left to consume is itself. They’ve already started in some areas.
The tipping point will come when the corporations will no longer support the expenses of their guardian arm (the police) - and dispose of it. They will either insist on an army forced to go in against family and friends… or bring in foreign mercenaries.
At which point, the police the corpratocracy trained will join against a common foe to oust, rout and destroy the corpratocracy and all the individuals therein. Including innocent folks who were too afraid to speak up for fear of losing their jobs. That’s you, currently vocal 53%. Pay attention.
It’s all going to get nasty, and bloody. And bloody nasty.
I know the corporations don’t give a shit. That’s their problem.
I also know that the people are currently divided on the issue. Not for very much longer.
The police and the armed forces are one bouncing paycheque away from lining up their former executives against the wall. Or burning mansions. Or lynching rich people just because they are rich.
Gated communities will be put under siege.
Washington, New York and Beverly Hills are going to burn.
This state of madness must be stopped before it starts.
[Penned on the 25th Jan]
It’s raining, it’s pouring…
Every time we try to fix the house or our land, it effing pours with rain.
When we tried to fix the patio, it rained almost nonstop for two months and Southeast Queensland got flooded.
Now we’re fixing up Mayhem’s room, it’s pouring nonstop. For two weeks, now.
At least the drainage ditch is working and we don’t have a small swamp happening in the back of our house.
OTOH, we have miniature lakes forming where the drains let out from our land to the gutter…
Still, I’d rather have the lakes than the swamp. Those readers fortunate enough to have good drainage have no idea how heartening it is to see a kilolitre or so rushing merrily through the area designated for it to flow. It means no swamp. No mildew creeping up newly-painted walls or infesting newly-laid floors.
Of course, with all the rain, the ditch at the back of the house is filling a little, but the key point is that it isn’t filling permanently. Or as near to permanently as it got last time,
We had algae growing on the grass, last time. Ick.
And the thing that’s stopping the small jungle that used to be our lawn from being mowed is that the mower has burned out one or more of the belts it’s needed for making it go. And three guesses when the shops are shut! That’s right! The weekend, when everyone actually has time to get the parts.
I swear to the Higher Powers, I would buy a scythe and do it myself, except there’s no real way to juggle a scythe and an umbrella.
Maybe I should invest in a raincoat. And one of those ludicrous brolly-hats to keep my glasses clear.
Alas, all thoughts of trimming the jungle have made it rain harder.
Rats.
If anyone wants to take some of my rain, they can have it for free. Just loan me some of your sunshine and I’ll call it square.
By the time the sun comes out, I’ll need a machete. I love the “banana leaf” ones. Anyone know where to puchase them legally in Sunny (cough) Queensland?
Spinning my wheels…
I hate wasting time.
Lots of things that need to get done depend highly on other people doing them. Because I lack the skills, the knowledge, the money or the resources to do it myself. So I end up sitting around waiting for other people to get the thumb out of their collective butts.
Time bleeds away. Hour by hour.
I’ve organized and packed the kids’ bags so they’re ready for school. I’ve matched and rounded up socks for the kids. We have new shoes. Fresh lunch boxes and things to fill them with. Clean drink bottles for their water. New cooler bricks to keep their lunches cold.
Mayhem’s room is still not organized, though. That depends on Hubby and his brother. I lack the knowledge and skill to do what I’m depending on them to do.
For all I know, they won’t do a damn thing about the room and the renovations, and decide to play computer games all day. And all night. Keeping Mayhem awake and ensuring his sleep cycle’s ruined for Monday.
Hubby and brother have a long history of ignoring me until the last possible second before meltdown.
It makes me depressed to know this. Depression makes me neglect myself. That’s not good. For me, or the kids.