My to-do list is once again way over the top. I find it much easier when that list is dominated by stuff I have to do for other people. When I promise someone I will, for instance, have their editing job done on a certain day, nine times out of ten I get it done early. I’m able to concentrate better when I have someone counting on me. I have discipline. When it’s only me counting on me, I have none.
At the moment I’m supposed to be working on three short stories (I have a deadline for two of them, but they’re not motivating me yet), one of which I’ve gone as far as creating a Word document and naming. Not a single word in the document itself. The other two I have great ideas for, but the deadline for the first is closer. As someone wise once said (Stephen King?) starting is the hardest part.
My excuse for not working on my novel is I’m waiting for a beta reader to get back to me. I could work on it anyway, but there’s this short story …
All in all it seems I’m the last person on my to-do list who has any clout. I love to make other people happy by getting their work done on time, but me–meh. I’m not that important. I need to find a way to change that. And I need to find a way to stop procrastinating. In other words, I need to get off my ass and do things for me.
Okay, I didn’t actually destroy the computers at Service Ontario (where we renew our licenses and health cards), but I didn’t seem to do them any favours.
If you read my bloated one-liner on Wednesday (here), you’ll know that whilst out at the mall, not one but two computers in the stores I visited crapped out while I was there. Apparently my reign of terror was not over. It happened again. Yesterday.
Both my son Chris and I needed to renew our health cards. So we went into the office and sat to wait our turn, as you do. We were called up to Desk #6 (there are 9) and the lady started filling out the paperwork. When she tried to take Chris’s picture, it didn’t work. The camera was fine, but the computer wouldn’t capture the image. So she sent us to Desk #3.
A nice lady helped us through the process and got Chris all set. Then it was my turn. As she was processing my paperwork, the computer started glitching.
“Oh no,” I said and then explained to her what had happened at the mall.
She waved it off good-naturedly and suggested we take my picture while the computer was doing its thing.
“I’ll try not to break your camera,” I said as I stepped in front of it.
The lady thought that was hilarious, and we laughed until I had to do the serious face for my photo. Then came her serious face when the picture didn’t work. Her computer crashed.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll just pass you off to my colleague at Desk #4.”
The other lady with whom she shared a workspace and who hadn’t been busy for a while said that if her camera worked, it wasn’t me, it was the lady she worked with who broke the computer.
So I stood in front of the camera again and we laughed and laughed, and I got serious, and then we all got serious. It didn’t work. At this point, three out of nine computers weren’t working.
So the lady at Desk #4 asked us to have a seat while she called IT. While we sat there (right by the desk), a man passed us to go to Desk #2. A woman was following him so closely, that I thought they were together. The man approached the desk but the woman stood back.
“You just called me to this desk,” she said, confused. It was obvious the two weren’t together at this point.
“Oh,” said the man behind Desk #2. “Sorry, just take a seat and we’ll call you up next. It happens sometimes that the computer calls two people up at the same time. Must be a glitch.”
Shortly after that we went back to Desk #4 and I got my confirmation that my renewal had gone through offsite. The lady’s computer still wasn’t working, but they’d done it somehow through another office. Obviously one where I wasn’t physically present.
Because I’ve got a story to tell, I’m going to take a page out of Dan Antion’s book and base a long post on a short sentence. This should, by rights, be a one-liner, but I’m cheating this week. Sue me. (You won’t get anything, so don’t bother.)
I was at the mall Monday night getting a new pair of prescription sunglasses to replace the ones I lost on Christmas Eve. After finding out they were going to cost me $400, I decided to get an account with the store so I could pay for them over the space of six months. Half an hour and an utter disaster on the part of the store’s computer later (with time spent made pleasant by the friendly cashier), I walked out of there with my credit but no glasses yet.
To celebrate my half a victory, I decided to go into the children’s clothing store to buy some underwear and pants for Alex. I picked out the undergarments with no problem, but the pants I wasn’t too sure about. So I went to the cashier with two pairs, two different sizes. The cashier, a lovely lady named Nancy, assured me I’d be able to bring back the pair that didn’t fit. She rang in the purchase, it went through, and boom, her computer screen went black. While I waited for it to reboot, I told her it seemed everywhere I went in the mall, I was breaking computers. We laughed and joked about it, and about half an hour later I walked out of there with a bag full of pants.
When I got home, I had Alex try both pairs of pants on. One was too big, the other too small. I thought fine, I had to take one pair back anyway, why not two? But when I went to put them back in the bag (with the receipt I’d waited so long for), I realized Nancy had forgotten to take the little ink tag off the bigger pair of pants.
So out came the receipt so I could look up the phone number of the store before they closed. I explained to the lady who answered that I still had the ink tag on the pants and I wanted to bring them back, but I didn’t want them to think I’d stolen them and was just trying to get money from them.
She said it was no problem, as long as I had my receipt. Before I hung up, I wanted to know if it was the same cashier who’d rung me through. (I didn’t remember her name at the time.)
Me: Have you been there a while tonight? I’m the one who came in earlier …
Her: You’re the lady who broke my computer?
Me: Yes!
Ah, I do love it when a cashier has a sense of humour.
Here are the general rules to follow for Just Jot it January:
1. Just Jot It January starts January 1st, but it’s never too late to join in! Here, we run on the honour system; the “jot it” part of JusJoJan means that anything you jot down, anywhere (it doesn’t have to be a post, it can even be a grocery list) counts as a “Jot.” If it makes it to your blog that day, great! If it waits a week to get from a sticky note to your screen, no problem!
2. I’ll post the daily prompts at 2am my time (GMT -5), every day except for Saturday’s Stream of Consciousness (SoCS) prompt–you’ll find that one on Friday morning at 9:30am. That daily post (i.e. this one) will be where you leave your link for others to find in the comment section. There will be a prompt for every day except Wednesday, when the prompt is simply my One-Liner Wednesday.
2a. Since today is Wednesday, I challenge you to make your JusJoJan post a one-liner. If you don’t care to, or if you’ve already written your post, no problem. Remember, with One-Liner Wednesday you can write anything – it’s only a prompt to write one line, not necessarily to keep to the same theme as mine. The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
(i) Make it one sentence.
(ii) Make it either funny or inspirational.
(iii) Use our unique tag #1linerWeds.
(iv) Enjoy yourself!
(v) Use our One-Liner Wednesday badge.
3. As long as your blog is on WordPress, you’ll be able to link via pingback. To execute a pingback, just copy the URL from the daily prompt post, and paste it anywhere in your post. Check to make sure your link shows up where you want it to, and go back occasionally to see other bloggers’ entries – the more you visit others, the more they’ll visit you! If you’re participating from another blogging host, just drop a link into the comment section. Note: The newest pingbacks and comments will appear at the top.
4. Tag your post JusJoJan and/or #JusJoJan.
5. Write anything! Any length will do! It can even be a photo or a drawing – you’re going to title it, right? There’s your jot!
6. The prompts are here both to remind you and to inspire you to write. However, you don’t have to use the prompt word of theday. You can link any kind of jot back here. Note: If it’s 18+ content, please say so in a comment with your link or close to your pingback.
7. If you’d like to, use the JusJoJan badge so that others can find your post more easily.
I’ve always wished I was a better dancer. It’s not that I’m uncoordinated–I figure skated for eight years, until I was 16 (though I fell a lot, once cutting myself badly enough with my skate blade to have dozens of stiches), I have a brown belt in Shotokan karate … which I haven’t practiced in ten years or so, and I haven’t broken anything. Yet.
Oh, except for my ribs, but they may have only been cracked. I had this Chevy Blazer, you see. It was back when carburetors were a thing, and I flooded the engine on a regular basis. I got good at taking the lid off the filter and sticking a screwdriver in the top of the carburetor to hold the choke open while I started the engine. One day, I was coming out of my doctor’s office and I flooded the engine. So I climbed out with my trusty screwdriver, opened the hood, and stood, as I usually did, on the front bumper of the truck (it was very high) to do my thing. Got it started okay, but when I went to retrieve the screwdriver, my feet slipped off the bumper and down I went on the hood latch. I basically impaled myself. I managed to get down and rolled around on the ground, screaming, until a nice man helped me up and back into the doctor’s office.
I learned a lesson that day. Which was, obviously, be careful not to stand over the hood latch.
So anyway, I can’t dance. At least not well. Which has absolutely nothing to do with breaking my ribs, but there you go. That’s what Stream of Consciousness Saturday is all about … tangents. Hey, I could have called it Tangent Tuesday instead! Feel free to use that.
You know who I wish could make a decent prediction? The weather man. Just imagine never getting caught without an umbrella when you need one. Or a coat. Or a toothbrush for when you’re unexpectedly served something full of garlic. … oh wait. Wrong kind of prediction.
But seriously. It would be cool if the weather man could positively predict what you’re going to end up eating on any given day, wouldn’t it? You’d never have to stress over another grocery list.
Am I the only one who’s getting an influx of spam from Outlook e-mail accounts? About half of them are getting through the spam filter, and if I had to estimate, there have been sixty or seventy in the last couple of days. I don’t want to turn off the option to let people who aren’t WordPress users comment on my posts, but this is getting ridiculous. And they’ve started swearing–and threatening to touch me, too! Here’s the last message I sent to spam:
F*ckin’ amazing issues here. I am very happy to peer your article. Thanks so much and i am looking ahead to touch you. Will you kindly drop me a mail?
That was on one of my Second Seat posts. What the bloody hell?
I want to start this post by freely admitting that before I opened the tab to start writing it, I moved away from my copy of Fifty Shades Darker. Being that this is mostly a family-friendly blog, I didn’t want to be forced to cheat on the off-chance that I would actually come across a sentence that didn’t contain, “Oh my.”
Moving into a much more comfortable spot (in more ways than one), I looked around and found that my copy of On Fire was the closest thing to hand. I opened it to a random spot, which happened to be Alisha Costanzo’s story, “The Mark of the Phoenix.” I wish I could tell you what it’s about, but I haven’t had time to read it yet. It’s a lovely book, though; one of my own stories is in it. 😀
But I digress. The sixth, seventh, and eighth words at the top of page 266 are “the conversation carried.” There’s a comma in there in the original text, but it makes more sense to try to talk about the words without the comma to confuse things. My first thought was of sitting in a movie theatre, near someone who won’t shut up all the way through the movie. They have the ads on now to tell people to shut off their phones, but I’m guessing no one has come up with an effective ad to tell people to zip their lips. You’d think it would be common sense, but it’s more than some people seem to possess. It’s why I loved the drive-in … or one of the reasons. If you’d known me as a teenager, you’d likely know that I steamed up my share of car windows at the drive-in. …because I had them rolled up to keep the mosquitoes out, of course. Get your mind out of the gutter! And yeah, having a mosquito buzzing in your ear while you’re trying to watch a movie is about as bad as rude people talking in your ear. So where was I? Oh yeah. Mosquitoes don’t have conversations. Or do they? Maybe they do …
Conversations carry so much farther nowadays than they did back when drive-ins were a thing. Back when one had to either spend too much money on a phone call or wait weeks for the reply to a letter via snail mail. Does anyone actually write letters anymore? I’d like to. I wish I had the motivation. It would be cool to do as a promotional device for fans of, say, an author. Hmmm …
I don’t remember if it was in response to a comment or just his general opinion, but I once wrote a letter to the husband of a friend, explaining why I had tattoos. This was years ago now, so I also can’t recall what, exactly, was in the letter, but apparently the writing of it made an indelible impression on me.
I can, however, tell you what made me get my tattoos. My first was a rose on my ankle, which reminded me of my father. Roses were his favourite flower. The dragon on my chest is close to an image I was obsessed with as a young teen. I drew it everywhere. My butterfly on the back of my neck was for the emergence of my life as a mother. I’ve had two more since I wrote the letter, but those three are the ones I have the most connection with. The memories that required me to have an indelible mark placed upon me, so that I’d never forget.
Strangely, I find my tattoos comforting. They are a guarantee that as long as I can still see, I’ll know that I had a life worth writing the story of on my skin.
I strive to do everything economically. Balance my budget, manage my time effectively, eat things with not too many calories, and plan my movements around the house. You know, stuff like piling things at the bottom of the stairs to take all at once or the next time I go up, rather than make a special trip. But then the Fitbit came into my life and screwed everything up. Or at least the economy of movement bit.
Now I take extra trips from the fridge to the table in an effort to get more steps in. I know I should just bite the bullet and go for a walk, but the bullet is an ice cube at the moment and it’s just too much bloody trouble to get all dressed only to turn around and run back to the safety of the warmth of my house after going 10 feet up the street because my nose broke off when I went to wipe it.
Can you tell I write fiction?
Fiction with run-on sentences? (I don’t! I edit my fiction, damnit! I’m not allowed to edit this. Stop judging me!!!)
Where was I?
Oh yes, economy of movement. It’s all about multi-tasking. Those of us who are good at that have learned to plan our movements ahead of time so as not to waste energy doing things that are unnecessary. I used to walk around the track at the fitness centre all the time. That really makes no sense, as I’m using energy and never going anywhere. So I used the time plotting stories in my head, listening to music that would inspire me. I miss going to the track, but I’ve been too busy to go. I must start going there again. Because let’s face it, I ain’t getting many steps in between the fridge and the table unless I’m eating my own weight in snacks to keep myself doing something worthwhile.
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