Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Free Writing About Free Writing
GBE 2 - week 32 is a 15 minute free write. Check it out on the site, it gives the details. But this is what I do all the time, free writing I mean. I may have an idea to work from, but often I just start writing and something meaningful tends to come out. I think it just comes with practice. Writing is soothing, energizing, and everything in between for people who have to write. I do my best writing in the morning. When words just seem to slide onto the page without effort and in a coherent fashion almost like the experience writers sometimes describe as "it just came to me." I have poems descend upon me at all times of the day and night, but when essays, articles or the like flow from me as though someone inside by head is dictating the piece to me, it is usually in the morning. It is not necessarily the very first thing I do but I think I do my best writing when I starting putting words on the page before 9 a.m. So it is 6:30 in the evening now as I write this for the Tuesday post. Probably won't be my best effort ever. I just love writing and I'm trying to be more disciplined and using different types of motivations to develop the discipline needed for serious blogging and other types of writing. Blogging gimmicks are doing the trick to some degree. That isn't to say that the gimmicks are bad. They aren't. Nablopomo. GBE 2. These are just a couple of the blogging tools I'm employing to get me writing. I need a voice recorder too. I have to find an app for that for my Blackberry. Writing ideas down isn't always practical. And sometimes when ideas strike, I need to record them, somehow. Discipline is good, but so are ideas. Develop one and don't let the others get away.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Holiday Juggling Squared Feeds A Writing Experiment
Oh I wish I had time to write the way I would like to write. The coming Holidays, my 21 year old's graduation from university, her birthday, my husband's 35 year old daughter, her husband who is adapting to have a prosthetic lower leg, and their twin 1 year old daughters, and her birthday all arrive within a few days of each other.
I am challenging myself to write through the frenzy of the next month. Writing provides comfort, entertainment, solace, political engagement, and occasionally income for me. I have always written on a keyboard. My first big purchase in life was when I was 16 and I purchased a professional office model Royal electric typewriter. Crisp, tidy, inviting words that I put on a page have been a near daily occurrence for decades of my life. I like to revise, edit, and hone each piece. Many, many times my creative thoughts and fingers are racing so very much faster than my internal editor can run.
Blogging, especially on a daily basis, requires a spontaneous, yet rigorous, process of writing to create a product. At least it does in my world where I don't have hour upon hour to spend crafting a final Blog product every day. Writing poetry, and writing, and rewriting papers and research reports were the mainstays of my "keyboarded" writing for ages, letter writing and journaling were the purview of pen-in-hand. Blogging combines these modes of writing that, for those of us who learned to compose on paper and then transcribe via a typewriter, come into being through different brain to hand, neural pathways and processes.
A further difference, for old fogey types' such as "Done Nesters," is that we would also nearly always do a complete rewrite as we retyped from penultimate draft to final copy. This is how we learned to create coherent pieces of writing. This differs from how the bloggers who learned to write on personal computers and laptops create their product. Most blogs also require a personality-infused style of writing that is somewhat at odds with the multiple edits and more formal style of writing that lots of 40-plus writers have as their default.
So, I am giving myself permission, in this coming month of tightly scheduled events and impromptu family activities, to write for two hours every morning. This will keep me sane. This also will require getting up at an absolutely ungodly hour and going to the gym, then writing from 7 until 9 a.m., and letting my family know that joint enterprise breakfasts will begin to be made by us as a group endeavor at 9 a.m. What this will also promote, at least that is my plan, is the honing of my quick write skills when time is crunched but there is a wealth of material from which to draw upon in those limited moments of writing time.
This wealth truly is a wealth that is made up of many rich blessings: my darling baby all grown up and moving away to go to grad school, twin one year old grand baby girls visiting our home for the first time, a son-in-law who is a wonderful writer and is adjusting amazingly well to a changed body after life-altering boating accident, and my wonderful step daughter who works in the New York publishing industry and has said she might be able to shop around my memoir about growing up in rural, bucolic isolation on one of the last truly old fashioned farms while surviving the rearing of a mother who today would be classified as suffering from the factitious disorder, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. These are all very exciting elements in and pf themselves, let alone together!
I know my limiting and enabling constraints; I can churn out acceptable copy the first thing in the morning. Without fail this is when my best writing is done. While there is the occasional instance to prove my generalization wrong, the quality of my writing decreases with every passing hour of the day. With so much that I want to capture there should not be any lack of subject or motivation, so I just have to stick to the schedule and work on what I guess I will think of as flow for lack of a better word. Flow for me means combining the personal creativity of what I think of as journal and letter writing energy with the final draft polish and editing vibes that keyboarding provides for me.
I will have an overflowing basket of observations, rituals, and discoveries to provide prompts and topics aplenty to feed my urges to communicate in writing, and I have the schedule in place to facilitate my best effort; so, there is actually method to my seeming madness. Sometimes the busiest time is the best time to blend in a new ingredient, this time the combining of types of writing into my own style of blogging that captures the best features of both types.
Do you agree, or am I taking on too much?
I am challenging myself to write through the frenzy of the next month. Writing provides comfort, entertainment, solace, political engagement, and occasionally income for me. I have always written on a keyboard. My first big purchase in life was when I was 16 and I purchased a professional office model Royal electric typewriter. Crisp, tidy, inviting words that I put on a page have been a near daily occurrence for decades of my life. I like to revise, edit, and hone each piece. Many, many times my creative thoughts and fingers are racing so very much faster than my internal editor can run.
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Blogging, especially on a daily basis, requires a spontaneous, yet rigorous, process of writing to create a product. At least it does in my world where I don't have hour upon hour to spend crafting a final Blog product every day. Writing poetry, and writing, and rewriting papers and research reports were the mainstays of my "keyboarded" writing for ages, letter writing and journaling were the purview of pen-in-hand. Blogging combines these modes of writing that, for those of us who learned to compose on paper and then transcribe via a typewriter, come into being through different brain to hand, neural pathways and processes.
A further difference, for old fogey types' such as "Done Nesters," is that we would also nearly always do a complete rewrite as we retyped from penultimate draft to final copy. This is how we learned to create coherent pieces of writing. This differs from how the bloggers who learned to write on personal computers and laptops create their product. Most blogs also require a personality-infused style of writing that is somewhat at odds with the multiple edits and more formal style of writing that lots of 40-plus writers have as their default.
So, I am giving myself permission, in this coming month of tightly scheduled events and impromptu family activities, to write for two hours every morning. This will keep me sane. This also will require getting up at an absolutely ungodly hour and going to the gym, then writing from 7 until 9 a.m., and letting my family know that joint enterprise breakfasts will begin to be made by us as a group endeavor at 9 a.m. What this will also promote, at least that is my plan, is the honing of my quick write skills when time is crunched but there is a wealth of material from which to draw upon in those limited moments of writing time.
This wealth truly is a wealth that is made up of many rich blessings: my darling baby all grown up and moving away to go to grad school, twin one year old grand baby girls visiting our home for the first time, a son-in-law who is a wonderful writer and is adjusting amazingly well to a changed body after life-altering boating accident, and my wonderful step daughter who works in the New York publishing industry and has said she might be able to shop around my memoir about growing up in rural, bucolic isolation on one of the last truly old fashioned farms while surviving the rearing of a mother who today would be classified as suffering from the factitious disorder, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. These are all very exciting elements in and pf themselves, let alone together!
I know my limiting and enabling constraints; I can churn out acceptable copy the first thing in the morning. Without fail this is when my best writing is done. While there is the occasional instance to prove my generalization wrong, the quality of my writing decreases with every passing hour of the day. With so much that I want to capture there should not be any lack of subject or motivation, so I just have to stick to the schedule and work on what I guess I will think of as flow for lack of a better word. Flow for me means combining the personal creativity of what I think of as journal and letter writing energy with the final draft polish and editing vibes that keyboarding provides for me.
I will have an overflowing basket of observations, rituals, and discoveries to provide prompts and topics aplenty to feed my urges to communicate in writing, and I have the schedule in place to facilitate my best effort; so, there is actually method to my seeming madness. Sometimes the busiest time is the best time to blend in a new ingredient, this time the combining of types of writing into my own style of blogging that captures the best features of both types.
Do you agree, or am I taking on too much?
Friday, November 4, 2011
I Love My Writing Technology!
Day 4... of Nablopomo, and I'm going to use the prompt for today about writing instruments and what I like to use. This seems to be a personal post so I'm putting it here in my more personal blog. I'm writing every day this month, as per National Blog Posting Month guidelines, in order to increase my output, improve my technique, and just generally become a better blogger. So the prompt is:
I wrote a tiny bit about this a few days ago on another of my blogs, coincidentally and mentioned that I prefer to use a .07 lead mechanical pencil when using a pencil, and that I prefer an ultra fine point archival ink when I chose to use a pen. When I want to write with a keyboard I also have to choose between my desktop computer, my laptop, my iPad 2, and my smart phone.
So how do I choose between the tools I have available to me when I want to put words to the page? Well, the first consideration I evaluate in my choice of writing utensil is the type of writing I want to do. Am I writing a grocery list, letter, journal entry, blog post, short or long manuscript, or a poem? This will influence the type of tool I choose to use. Intensely personal recollections, musings and such are likely to be written by hand with a pencil or high quality pen.
Lead pencils and a Rapidograph®-like pen were the tools of the trade I was instructed to use when making field notes / behavioral observations as an undergrad and in graduate school. I also always used a high rag or cotton content paper on which to take notes. This practice has stayed with me over the years to a great extent, although I love all sorts of paper, notebooks, notepads, and loose leaf papers so what I write on is not always bond paper. I try to use only ink that will not bleed, is permanent, and pencils as they also have these characteristics.
I usually write on a keyboard of some sort. I purchased my first electric typewriter when I was 16 in 1973. I loved to see my work in typed print - especially my poetry - and the "translation" of thought into words seemed to flow more smoothly and rapidly when I used the direct brain to fingertip neural/physical actions involved in typing. Writing script by hand takes much, much longer for me and seems more likely to capture stream of conscience musings. Using a keyboard seems to create a copy with more precise language usage that is closer to penultimate or final copy.
Another factor is where the writing will be done. At home, sitting, reclining, while watching T.V., in my office, at my desk, on a plane or train, in an automobile, at a coffee shop, at a conference, at a press conference all place different limiting and enabling constraints on which technology I use.
I nearly at all times have a small notebook and my phone with me when I carry a shoulder bag. Theoretically, I could use either one of these for note taking, but I like to write notes by hand. Phone key pads, even on the iPhone, are just too small. I do not like to send text messages for this reason. I guess I have old, fat fingers.
I like to write neatly if I am writing by hand and using a mechanical pencil allows me to write in a fairly uniform manner because the lead is always the same diameter and this size of mechanical pencil creates a thin line that for some reason helps me write in a neat small script. Archival quality ink pens, either felt tip or roller ball, with an ultra fine nib also seem to promote better handwriting for me than a ball point. I seem to produce larger and more sloppy script when I write with a ballpoint pen or wooden pencil.
I do my best blogging on a laptop when sitting in a comfy chair or even in bed with the TV on at night. I tend to use my iPad for social media communication, for texting and posting short social media entries. My desktop computer with the large screen in my office is used for graphics, web design layout, and for some reason which I have not figured out entirely, for manuscript or book length projects.
I love paper, pens, notebooks, and in fact all writing tools and technologies, but more than these things, and far beyond the simple preference expressed in answer to the question, "Pen or computer?" are my love of writing and words, my graphophilia and logophilia. And almost as intense as these loves is my fascination with the different limiting and enabling constraints placed on the creative process by the use of digital and analog tools and methods.
When you are writing, do you prefer to use a pen or a computer?
So how do I choose between the tools I have available to me when I want to put words to the page? Well, the first consideration I evaluate in my choice of writing utensil is the type of writing I want to do. Am I writing a grocery list, letter, journal entry, blog post, short or long manuscript, or a poem? This will influence the type of tool I choose to use. Intensely personal recollections, musings and such are likely to be written by hand with a pencil or high quality pen.
I usually write on a keyboard of some sort. I purchased my first electric typewriter when I was 16 in 1973. I loved to see my work in typed print - especially my poetry - and the "translation" of thought into words seemed to flow more smoothly and rapidly when I used the direct brain to fingertip neural/physical actions involved in typing. Writing script by hand takes much, much longer for me and seems more likely to capture stream of conscience musings. Using a keyboard seems to create a copy with more precise language usage that is closer to penultimate or final copy.
I nearly at all times have a small notebook and my phone with me when I carry a shoulder bag. Theoretically, I could use either one of these for note taking, but I like to write notes by hand. Phone key pads, even on the iPhone, are just too small. I do not like to send text messages for this reason. I guess I have old, fat fingers.
I like to write neatly if I am writing by hand and using a mechanical pencil allows me to write in a fairly uniform manner because the lead is always the same diameter and this size of mechanical pencil creates a thin line that for some reason helps me write in a neat small script. Archival quality ink pens, either felt tip or roller ball, with an ultra fine nib also seem to promote better handwriting for me than a ball point. I seem to produce larger and more sloppy script when I write with a ballpoint pen or wooden pencil.
I do my best blogging on a laptop when sitting in a comfy chair or even in bed with the TV on at night. I tend to use my iPad for social media communication, for texting and posting short social media entries. My desktop computer with the large screen in my office is used for graphics, web design layout, and for some reason which I have not figured out entirely, for manuscript or book length projects.
I love paper, pens, notebooks, and in fact all writing tools and technologies, but more than these things, and far beyond the simple preference expressed in answer to the question, "Pen or computer?" are my love of writing and words, my graphophilia and logophilia. And almost as intense as these loves is my fascination with the different limiting and enabling constraints placed on the creative process by the use of digital and analog tools and methods.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Thoughts on Hurt and Healing
Geesh, where to start?
Sometimes try as we might to live a good life, think good thoughts, to love, and to be positive forces in the world, things in our lives become difficult and it seems like our path in life is stagnating or straying from the way we would like it to proceed. I know this happens to everyone on occasion, but those of who live with depression or ongoing situations of illness or injury often have to work more diligently to stay on the track or path down which we would like our lives to proceed.
Hubby was out of town last week which usually gives me time to catch up on things. But this time I was grumbly because Hubby got to see the grand babies via a slight detour on the trip route, and I didn't. It was sort of scary as a tree fell during a storm and broke through the roof of their cottage. I was busy putting together a new website for a friend but the close call made me want to see the babies all the more. I was watching the grand puppy a lot as Zilla was prepping to take the GRE. But the pup isn't allowed in the part of the house where my kitties reside and my office is in that part of the house. The pup chewed up the top of an antique rocker of mine. Grrrr. I'm a bit obsessive about my "things." Then my trainer wasn't at the gym when I went for my personal training session. Double Grrrr. And to top it all off I was having a really difficult time posting every day to my political blog which is the blog I was trying the Nablopomo challenge to post everyday. I missed a day last week. Then my dear Zilla had our truck and got a $175 parking ticket which because she is a student and not making much money, I had to pay. I'm just not a happy camper. Bitch. Gripe. Whine. Moan. A couple little things I can handle. Many I start to feel overwhelmed. When I'm overwhelmed I tend toward inaction.
I know I'm fortunate, but at times I lose track of that. Then yesterday, I, along with all of my famil,y got a wake up call. My beautiful step daughter and her talented husband and the remarkably gifted twin babies were still at the lake cottage in Michigan that Hubby had just visited. Son-in-law was out on the lake in a kayak getting a few moments of quiet alone time in the late afternoon calm before sunset. His kayak was run over by a motor boat piloted by a 17 year old boy. His right leg and foot were severely injured. Mangled would be a better word. I think there are parts of his leg and foot missing. He was in surgery for hours and hours at a level one trauma center in Kalamazoo. They were not very optimistic about being able to save the foot. Today though, they are getting good pulses in the foot. He can feel most of it and I guess some movement. No toe wiggling yet. They will be doing more surgeries to remove bone fragments and unhealthy tissue. He is a University Lecturer and a poet of some notariety, and a wonderful addition to our family (after Hubby got over calling him Poet Boy which is how scientist Hubby referred to the father of his grandbabies until the wedding) but it isn't clear that he will be able to teach in just a few weeks, he will probably be undergoing reconstructive surgeries for a while. He is alive and the babies have their daddy even though they can't come in to the ICU to see him now.
I have felt so damn fortunate all year, and am still trying to be positive... and I feel like an absolute whiner when I zip over to The Burrow and read the daily ups and downs of a Tucson blogger who has had more challenges and adversity this year than anyone should ever have to experience. Last week she mentioned me and a phrase I'd posted on her blog in a comment and apparently I had grasped, somehow, how she was feeling after the 6 month anniversary of the Tucson shootings, in which she was injured and in which she lost a dear young friend. All of Tucson aches, but no one can know how she feels. I take it as a good sign that she is saying, "No" to some invitations to events. Sometimes it is okay to just pull the covers over your head, sleep in, then sit in your garden and drink tea all afternoon; or to work in your backyard garden rather than to greet the world. I have denied obvious things in my life, and I've wallowed in self pity, but as always, knee jerk reactionary responses were not healthy ones. After experiencing a wound, emotional or physical, it takes time to get rid of the adrenaline and respond to life as a whole human being again without responding to the wound. Sometimes you have to heal physically before you can begin to heal your heart and soul. It is different for everyone and varies through time for the same individual.
Healing never ends. Each day we wake we are slightly different than the way we were when we awakened the previous day. That different person might approach healing from a different perspective and need to act or react in a different way than the person we were yesterday did.
Not all wounds are the same. I won't ever say they are. I have experienced wounds to my heart and soul, and senseless injuries to my body, some of which were orchestrated by those closest to me who were supposed to love me and protect me. I've been thinking and writing a lot about this topic as I'm working on a book about healing from medical child abuse and healing the series of misfortunes that followed further down the path the abuse readied for me.
I wish I could make people feel better, but only people themselves can make adjustments that change feelings and perceptions. If I can somehow help someone by letting him or her know that they are not the first person to walk the lonely path of healing, and that there are others who, even though they have never met, are with them in spirit. I believe that we can make a difference, and that we make differences to people all the time, most of which we won't ever know about. Holding on to that belief is difficult, but essential for those of us who have been wounded. There is no reason for the injury happening, but there can be reason created from our reaction to the injury.
Sometimes try as we might to live a good life, think good thoughts, to love, and to be positive forces in the world, things in our lives become difficult and it seems like our path in life is stagnating or straying from the way we would like it to proceed. I know this happens to everyone on occasion, but those of who live with depression or ongoing situations of illness or injury often have to work more diligently to stay on the track or path down which we would like our lives to proceed.
Hubby was out of town last week which usually gives me time to catch up on things. But this time I was grumbly because Hubby got to see the grand babies via a slight detour on the trip route, and I didn't. It was sort of scary as a tree fell during a storm and broke through the roof of their cottage. I was busy putting together a new website for a friend but the close call made me want to see the babies all the more. I was watching the grand puppy a lot as Zilla was prepping to take the GRE. But the pup isn't allowed in the part of the house where my kitties reside and my office is in that part of the house. The pup chewed up the top of an antique rocker of mine. Grrrr. I'm a bit obsessive about my "things." Then my trainer wasn't at the gym when I went for my personal training session. Double Grrrr. And to top it all off I was having a really difficult time posting every day to my political blog which is the blog I was trying the Nablopomo challenge to post everyday. I missed a day last week. Then my dear Zilla had our truck and got a $175 parking ticket which because she is a student and not making much money, I had to pay. I'm just not a happy camper. Bitch. Gripe. Whine. Moan. A couple little things I can handle. Many I start to feel overwhelmed. When I'm overwhelmed I tend toward inaction.
I know I'm fortunate, but at times I lose track of that. Then yesterday, I, along with all of my famil,y got a wake up call. My beautiful step daughter and her talented husband and the remarkably gifted twin babies were still at the lake cottage in Michigan that Hubby had just visited. Son-in-law was out on the lake in a kayak getting a few moments of quiet alone time in the late afternoon calm before sunset. His kayak was run over by a motor boat piloted by a 17 year old boy. His right leg and foot were severely injured. Mangled would be a better word. I think there are parts of his leg and foot missing. He was in surgery for hours and hours at a level one trauma center in Kalamazoo. They were not very optimistic about being able to save the foot. Today though, they are getting good pulses in the foot. He can feel most of it and I guess some movement. No toe wiggling yet. They will be doing more surgeries to remove bone fragments and unhealthy tissue. He is a University Lecturer and a poet of some notariety, and a wonderful addition to our family (after Hubby got over calling him Poet Boy which is how scientist Hubby referred to the father of his grandbabies until the wedding) but it isn't clear that he will be able to teach in just a few weeks, he will probably be undergoing reconstructive surgeries for a while. He is alive and the babies have their daddy even though they can't come in to the ICU to see him now.
I have felt so damn fortunate all year, and am still trying to be positive... and I feel like an absolute whiner when I zip over to The Burrow and read the daily ups and downs of a Tucson blogger who has had more challenges and adversity this year than anyone should ever have to experience. Last week she mentioned me and a phrase I'd posted on her blog in a comment and apparently I had grasped, somehow, how she was feeling after the 6 month anniversary of the Tucson shootings, in which she was injured and in which she lost a dear young friend. All of Tucson aches, but no one can know how she feels. I take it as a good sign that she is saying, "No" to some invitations to events. Sometimes it is okay to just pull the covers over your head, sleep in, then sit in your garden and drink tea all afternoon; or to work in your backyard garden rather than to greet the world. I have denied obvious things in my life, and I've wallowed in self pity, but as always, knee jerk reactionary responses were not healthy ones. After experiencing a wound, emotional or physical, it takes time to get rid of the adrenaline and respond to life as a whole human being again without responding to the wound. Sometimes you have to heal physically before you can begin to heal your heart and soul. It is different for everyone and varies through time for the same individual.
Healing never ends. Each day we wake we are slightly different than the way we were when we awakened the previous day. That different person might approach healing from a different perspective and need to act or react in a different way than the person we were yesterday did.
Not all wounds are the same. I won't ever say they are. I have experienced wounds to my heart and soul, and senseless injuries to my body, some of which were orchestrated by those closest to me who were supposed to love me and protect me. I've been thinking and writing a lot about this topic as I'm working on a book about healing from medical child abuse and healing the series of misfortunes that followed further down the path the abuse readied for me.
I wish I could make people feel better, but only people themselves can make adjustments that change feelings and perceptions. If I can somehow help someone by letting him or her know that they are not the first person to walk the lonely path of healing, and that there are others who, even though they have never met, are with them in spirit. I believe that we can make a difference, and that we make differences to people all the time, most of which we won't ever know about. Holding on to that belief is difficult, but essential for those of us who have been wounded. There is no reason for the injury happening, but there can be reason created from our reaction to the injury.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Smart Ass Education 101 - Responsibility to One's Self
I'm a smart ass. I married a smart ass. I gave birth to a smart ass. I think it is genetic. When I was young I kept my mouth shut in public, more or less, and only those who really knew me knew that I could have a wicked tongue occasionally backed up by a sharp sense of humor.
I suppose I'm pretty smart. I know those people around me are smart, and they wouldn't tolerate ignorance around them. But smart doesn't mean jack if you are trying to reach an audience. And why would I be writing if I did not have an audience in mind? I've been thinking a lot about persona, as you may be able to tell, but I've also been thinking about responsibility, and ethics... and having a place where I can rant as regular old me and not be stepping out of bounds of the blog, nor my online identity, nor my inner self.
This blog is not anonymous. I use a nom d' plume that is also a nom d' tweet. If I had a name I liked better than the one I have, I might use it, but I don't. If I had it all to do over... I'd change my name, study computer science or architecture... and.... That "and..." is why I didn't change my name. If we attempt to edit our identity by actual editing it seems to me that we are attempting to lie. I use "Nerthus" as a pseudonym because she is the proto-European Swamp Goddess. I grew up in the boggy muck and clay of what is left of the swamp, fen and kame of the wetlands of Northeastern Indiana. I also believe that associating oneself, if you are a woman, with a goddess helps bring the concept of the feminine divine and creation into personal understanding of the organization of the universe. Male gods seem sterile to me. Patriarchy does not inspire me to seek either within or without. I'm nearly 100% European per my ancestry from what I can tell without genetic testing. "Nerthus" encapsulates much that I am and with which I identify. It isn't a lie.
I own my actions and I am usually careful about what I say and do, not limited nor constrained, but careful. This blog, that I am trying to power-boost this month by constant blogging (daily to me means constant,) will contain smart ass irreverence and more statements unsupported by links than my other blogs. I do not want to have to research and document every single thing I say. I can back up everything I write as nonfiction. I have been shoving facts in my brain for close to 45 years and I know a lot. I have been blessed with a life rich in experience and travel and education. I'm not saying I won't share links; I'm not saying that I just want to spout bullshit. I just want to write as though I was just sitting at a table, drinking coffee, talking to other women who can relate to me in some way and engage in women's humor. Maybe I remind you of your mother, daughter, sister, or friend. I'm willing to talk to men, I've actually been VERY close, lol, to some men in my life, but I have a tendency to see guys as not really interested in just talking. And that is what I'm doing here. I'm just saying.
I suppose I'm pretty smart. I know those people around me are smart, and they wouldn't tolerate ignorance around them. But smart doesn't mean jack if you are trying to reach an audience. And why would I be writing if I did not have an audience in mind? I've been thinking a lot about persona, as you may be able to tell, but I've also been thinking about responsibility, and ethics... and having a place where I can rant as regular old me and not be stepping out of bounds of the blog, nor my online identity, nor my inner self.
This blog is not anonymous. I use a nom d' plume that is also a nom d' tweet. If I had a name I liked better than the one I have, I might use it, but I don't. If I had it all to do over... I'd change my name, study computer science or architecture... and.... That "and..." is why I didn't change my name. If we attempt to edit our identity by actual editing it seems to me that we are attempting to lie. I use "Nerthus" as a pseudonym because she is the proto-European Swamp Goddess. I grew up in the boggy muck and clay of what is left of the swamp, fen and kame of the wetlands of Northeastern Indiana. I also believe that associating oneself, if you are a woman, with a goddess helps bring the concept of the feminine divine and creation into personal understanding of the organization of the universe. Male gods seem sterile to me. Patriarchy does not inspire me to seek either within or without. I'm nearly 100% European per my ancestry from what I can tell without genetic testing. "Nerthus" encapsulates much that I am and with which I identify. It isn't a lie.
I own my actions and I am usually careful about what I say and do, not limited nor constrained, but careful. This blog, that I am trying to power-boost this month by constant blogging (daily to me means constant,) will contain smart ass irreverence and more statements unsupported by links than my other blogs. I do not want to have to research and document every single thing I say. I can back up everything I write as nonfiction. I have been shoving facts in my brain for close to 45 years and I know a lot. I have been blessed with a life rich in experience and travel and education. I'm not saying I won't share links; I'm not saying that I just want to spout bullshit. I just want to write as though I was just sitting at a table, drinking coffee, talking to other women who can relate to me in some way and engage in women's humor. Maybe I remind you of your mother, daughter, sister, or friend. I'm willing to talk to men, I've actually been VERY close, lol, to some men in my life, but I have a tendency to see guys as not really interested in just talking. And that is what I'm doing here. I'm just saying.
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