Attention all would-be storytellers: NaNoWriMo begins in just one month. Don’t be caught unprepared. What’s NaNoWriMo, you ask? Why, it’s National Novel Writing Month, of course. Granted, if you feel so inclined, you may begin writing whenever you want. However, as I understand it, that’d be cheating.
National Novel Writing Month—which, oddly enough, is no more difficult to spell out in its entirety than the portmanteau that requires hitting the shift key four times—has been going on every November for just over a decade.
Showing posts with label temporary lapse in procrastination. Show all posts
Showing posts with label temporary lapse in procrastination. Show all posts
October 1, 2010
December 10, 2009
Back from the Dead
Yes, I'm back.
Though tempting, I will not make excuses. Of course, if you'd spent the last four months trying to juggle a full-time job, part-time graduate school, and spending whatever time possible with a certain young lady who's a lot of fun--you'd be tempted to make excuses, too, for why you'd abandoned your blog. Those three items have pretty much been all I've had time for since August. With what little spare time I had remaining, I had to choose between going to the gym, blogging, or keeping my house in some semblance of order. I chose the gym. The current state of my house is proof.
But just as I get some breathing room, another distraction: My birthday recently rolled around, and apparently it's some big deal when the number on the left changes, too. That's right, I hit the big 3-0, and I had many a friend and well-wisher (in that they wished me no specific harm) offer me kind words of congratulations and condolences. To me, it's just another birthday. I don't feel any different. What's all the commotion? After all, I've gone by "Grandpa" for close to a decade. Is a new number supposed to make me feel old?
Nah.
But with any birthday, it's natural to start thinking about one's own mortality. And there's nothing particularly morbid about it. Many inspirational speakers and assorted gurus recommend thinking about what you want said about you at your funeral or in your obituary. Supposedly, thinking about such things inspires you to make the most of the time you have. Supposedly.
I, on the other hand, will take a different perspective that should not needlessly narrow my life goals into specific achievements. No, that would be restrictive, and I am open to many things God surely has in store that I couldn't anticipate. Instead, I will merely set a few basic parameters.
I'm working on a list of phrases and words I don't want to appear in my obituary. Here's what I've got so far:
As always, any additional suggestions (for me or for yourself) are welcome.
Though tempting, I will not make excuses. Of course, if you'd spent the last four months trying to juggle a full-time job, part-time graduate school, and spending whatever time possible with a certain young lady who's a lot of fun--you'd be tempted to make excuses, too, for why you'd abandoned your blog. Those three items have pretty much been all I've had time for since August. With what little spare time I had remaining, I had to choose between going to the gym, blogging, or keeping my house in some semblance of order. I chose the gym. The current state of my house is proof.
But just as I get some breathing room, another distraction: My birthday recently rolled around, and apparently it's some big deal when the number on the left changes, too. That's right, I hit the big 3-0, and I had many a friend and well-wisher (in that they wished me no specific harm) offer me kind words of congratulations and condolences. To me, it's just another birthday. I don't feel any different. What's all the commotion? After all, I've gone by "Grandpa" for close to a decade. Is a new number supposed to make me feel old?
Nah.
But with any birthday, it's natural to start thinking about one's own mortality. And there's nothing particularly morbid about it. Many inspirational speakers and assorted gurus recommend thinking about what you want said about you at your funeral or in your obituary. Supposedly, thinking about such things inspires you to make the most of the time you have. Supposedly.
I, on the other hand, will take a different perspective that should not needlessly narrow my life goals into specific achievements. No, that would be restrictive, and I am open to many things God surely has in store that I couldn't anticipate. Instead, I will merely set a few basic parameters.
I'm working on a list of phrases and words I don't want to appear in my obituary. Here's what I've got so far:
- “The world breathes a sigh of relief, today…”
- “much-anticipated”
- “jubilation in the streets”
- “scandal-plagued”
- “freak steamroller accident”
- “high voltage”
- “...best known as a part-time blogger during the early part of the century.”
- “…the first lethal attack by a dachshund in state history…”
- “career backup”
- “…succumbing to the disease which is now named for him…”
- “...rendering identification of the body by dental records impossible.”
- “…in a hail of police gunfire.”
- “rodeo clown failure”
- “…demonstrating the dangers of text messaging while piloting a hang glider.”
- “On a positive note, an official from Guinness records confirmed that he did achieve his goal of breaking the single-event record for ‘most fireworks detonated indoors.’”
- “avoidable”
- “…disappeared during a rafting trip down the Cahulawassee River, made famous by the movie Deliverance.”
- “...also known as a 'sling blade'...”
- “Authorities believe he was cleaning the potato gun at the time.”
- “The audience, believing it to be part of the show, looked on with relative indifference.”
- “The memorial service, which will obviously be closed-casket...”
- “lethal injection”
- “Zoo officials are still trying to determine how the baboon escaped from its enclosure.”
- “'You have to understand,' a former coworker explained, 'that he grew up in a time long before science had established the causal relationship between coffee consumption and bubonic plague.'”
- “Fortunately, he had wished to be cremated, anyway.”
- “Family hopes his passing will bring awareness to others who struggle with an addiction to flying kites during thunderstorms.”
- “…taking numerous innocent lives with him.”
- “…and thus missed, by one day, seeing the Gamecocks win their first national championship.”
- “He is survived by the following people (this list is condensed because of its length):…”
- “…at the age of 31.”
As always, any additional suggestions (for me or for yourself) are welcome.
July 27, 2009
At Long Last
I'm tempted to claim my long delay between posts was a marketing stunt. It’s not unheard of for some writers/artists/musicians to disappear from the public spotlight in order to fuel speculation and, hopefully, ramp up anticipation for their next release. No, that’s not it. I'd just alienate the few loyal readers I have (or had?).
Nor can I attribute my procrastination to my July 4th weekend injury. One, because it was on my foot, actually giving me more opportunity to write as I laid off of more strenuous activities. Also, I could have used it as a subject for a blog anyway, although I don’t know if there was much to tell beyond a photograph of the five stitches on the bottom of my foot and a warning to any barefoot lake-goers to watch out for the heads of nails protruding from aging docks. (My friend Owen captured it best: "You didn’t really step on the nail so much as you swung your foot across it.")
That awful tension that just shot up your spine and into your shoulders? That’s worse that the wound ever hurt, once I got the bleeding stopped. Matter of fact, the pain of the tetanus shot lingered longer than the ache in my foot. And truth be told, the most annoying things about the ordeal were the facts that I (a) couldn’t go running for two weeks, thereby derailing my mud run training, and (b) it is harder than you think to walk around without bending your foot or rolling up on your toes. I looked ridiculous. Moreso.
But enough of that. You want a blog post? Here’s what I got:
The more organized a party is, the more fun it is to crash. Case in point, a murder mystery dinner night coming up in a few weeks. It’s like an evening-long fame of live-action Clue, except with much more complicated motives and characters. Everyone that comes has a role to play. One person is the murderer. One person is the murder victim. Everyone else must figure out by the end of the night. It isn’t difficult, and you don’t need any acting skills to participate, but there are certain lines to be read and objectives for most characters that need to be fulfilled for the evening to be success. Point being, the evening is a lot of fun, but also very structured.
All the better for party crashers to have some fun.
(To be continued…)
Nor can I attribute my procrastination to my July 4th weekend injury. One, because it was on my foot, actually giving me more opportunity to write as I laid off of more strenuous activities. Also, I could have used it as a subject for a blog anyway, although I don’t know if there was much to tell beyond a photograph of the five stitches on the bottom of my foot and a warning to any barefoot lake-goers to watch out for the heads of nails protruding from aging docks. (My friend Owen captured it best: "You didn’t really step on the nail so much as you swung your foot across it.")
That awful tension that just shot up your spine and into your shoulders? That’s worse that the wound ever hurt, once I got the bleeding stopped. Matter of fact, the pain of the tetanus shot lingered longer than the ache in my foot. And truth be told, the most annoying things about the ordeal were the facts that I (a) couldn’t go running for two weeks, thereby derailing my mud run training, and (b) it is harder than you think to walk around without bending your foot or rolling up on your toes. I looked ridiculous. Moreso.
But enough of that. You want a blog post? Here’s what I got:
The more organized a party is, the more fun it is to crash. Case in point, a murder mystery dinner night coming up in a few weeks. It’s like an evening-long fame of live-action Clue, except with much more complicated motives and characters. Everyone that comes has a role to play. One person is the murderer. One person is the murder victim. Everyone else must figure out by the end of the night. It isn’t difficult, and you don’t need any acting skills to participate, but there are certain lines to be read and objectives for most characters that need to be fulfilled for the evening to be success. Point being, the evening is a lot of fun, but also very structured.
All the better for party crashers to have some fun.
(To be continued…)
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