Neat!

Okay I am actually going to write about writing today. In early May, I started thinking about journaling. I think of myself as keeping one single journal: a leather-bound book where I write about my life. The problem is, the journal tends to lapse for months at a time because it’s boring for me to write about my emotions and I don’t like writing longhand. This can make me feel guilty. After all, everyone knows the importance of keeping a journal if you are a creative person–you have to have some place to put down half-formed thoughts, inspiration, observations, etc.

Recently, I heard a podcast about journaling and it made me realize that it’s not actually true that I keep one journal. I keep many journals. To wit:

1. My main journal–As described above.

2. My Ongoing Work Notebook–I go through one notebook at a time filling it with interview questions, research notes, and anything else work related. When it’s full, I usually throw it out.

3. My Word Notebook–A little Anvil notebook with brown and red dots where I write down things like new vocabulary words, names, imagery from books, potential titles for stories, etc. Each section is separated by a post-it flag.

4. My Idea Notebook–A Mead composition notepad where I jot down all article ideas and sometimes story ideas.

5. My Publishing Organizer–My way of organizing larger projects, usually with lists of publishers or publications, to-do lists, etc., written in an AMPAD Project Planner.

6. My Reading Diary–An spreadsheet of books I’ve read and what I thought of them.

7. My Blog. Written here, in buggy ol’ Word Press.

So in early May, I decided to combine journals 2-4 into journal 1 and try it out for a month. The theory was that if I started writing say, goal lists and story ideas into my main journal, I would also be inclined to write more in the main journal overall. I also liked the idea of my journal becoming a better reflection of my mind with different kinds of thoughts put into it.

However, I was still very skeptical about this experiment working. I thought writing lists and random observations into my main journal would be inconvenient–not to mention a dumb use of a nice leather-bound journal. But after a month of trying it, I found that it works really well. The different functions of the journals “talk” to each other better if the thoughts are side-by-side. Also, it makes me write about my life more. When I open the journal to write a list, I will decide that I might as well jot down this thought or that thing that happened. Overall, I have picked up the journal more this month than I have in the last six month combined.

So I declare this experiment a success. I would rather have one big messy journal than a bunch of smalled compartmentalized ones. Usually the best journals are also the messiest.

I am planning my trip to Peru–We’re going in October. It is making me think about travel. The other day, someone asked me what my top trips would be if I could go anywhere in the world, which got me to thinking about allllll the places I want to go to. So, I made a list of the top places.

First, the list of places I’ve been:

Small! Very Small.

Here are the trips according to the order I would see them in if world politics and length of plane rides weren’t a problem:

Spill-over countries (countries I will get to if I go to all those other places–i.e. not that likely): Russia, Cuba, Holland, Switzerland, Galapagos Islands (Ecuador), Austria.

I have given up on a few things. I’m not sure Antarctica is so interesting–in theory it sounds neat, but in reality, it sounds cold and dull. I am not interested in oppressed Muslim countries where I might get stoned if I wear shorts. I don’t like gross toilets, dirty hotels, and getting sick on vacation, so many adventurous places will remain unseen by me. On the other hand, I don’t like sitting on the beach doing nothing, so don’t need too many vacations like that. I dislike being on a plane, so I’m only going to take a long plane ride if I really want to go somewhere, knocking quite a few places off the list. I don’t have a problem with being a tourist, so I feel no need to make a big deal out of not being a tourist by going to dangerous places or trying to find off-beaten paths with strangers. Finally: I’m bad at geography, so I might be missing some places because I am forgetting them or don’t know enough about them to know why they are cool. The list could change because of that.

But barring that, there you have it: 19 trips–20 if you count Peru. Do you think I can do them all?

What’s your list?

ETA: Is it weird that I don’t want to go to Prague because I don’t like the sound of the word Prague? It sounds ugly and boring, like a computer game created circa 1985 involving pogo sticks. Who can jump the highest in the Prague game? Super happy time! That is what I think of.

Hooray! Leona wrote a blog post about me and put up a cartoon to amuse me. This makes me happy.

If you want proof that morality means nothing without love, compassion, and forgiveness, take a look at Dr. Laura’s son. Deryk Schlessinger, the right-wing radio talk show host’s “little bounchkin,” is now 21 years old and serving in the army. The military just took down Deryk’s MySpace page because of “Depictions of Rape, Murder, Torture, Child Molestation, and Abuse.” There were “cartoon depictions of rape, murder, torture and child molestation; photographs of soldiers with guns in their mouths; a photograph of a bound and blindfolded detainee captioned “My Sweet Little Habib”; accounts of illicit drug use; and a blog entry headlined by a series of obscenities and racial epithets. ”

“Yes . . . F—ING Yes!!!” said one blog entry on the Schlessinger site. “I LOVE MY JOB, it takes everything reckless and deviant and heathenistic and just overall bad about me and hyper focuses these traits into my job of running around this horrid place doing nasty things to people that deserve it . . . and some that don’t.”

Oh yeah, and:

It also included several graphic cartoons. In one of the stick drawings, a top-hatted man laughs as he rapes a bound and bleeding woman in front of her family. In another depiction, a man forces a boy to perform oral sex at knifepoint as the child’s mother pleads for her son’s life.

Link

I used to listen to Dr. Laura in college driving back and forth to Portland all the time (my car didn’t have a CD player). I have always thought she makes some good points. I don’t think it’s bad to encourage people to try to make their marriages work or to get married before having children and so on and so forth. However, for every good point she made, there was at least one other point that was harsh, severe, or unforgiving. This attitude seems to be reflected in Dr. Laura’s own life–her mother was found rotting in a house after being dead for days. I guess you really do reap what you sow in life. She has publicly talked about Deryk her whole career, repeatedly saying she put him first and that her job in life is to be “her kid’s mom.” And now… this is who her kid is. So what does that say about her?

Very interesting.

Of course, it could be terrorists putting up a fake MySpace page just to make Dr. Laura and the army look bad. That’s a possibility too. Right? Right?

I’ve been wanting to see Flogging Molly live for a long time, so on Saturday, we went to the Oyster and Beer Fest in San Francisco. The cost for admissions for a full day of music was a reasonable $15, so I was expecting the other shoe to drop–hidden parking fees or super long lines or something like that. But while there were fees and lines–especially to get beer–it wasn’t bad at all. The festival took place on a green lawn overlooking the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a lovely day. People seemed in a good mood. The price for food and drink wasn’t bad, considering. And yes, there were lines, but we got to skip the major one because we bought our tickets ahead, so I didn’t mind.

We met up with Robin, who was hanging out with his co-workers, and Rachel, who was hanging out with her friend Lindsay. We spread a blanket under a palm tree and waited for Flogging Molly to come on. That band is awesome live. Of the three concerts I’ve been to lately, they were the most fun. I was able to get right down by the stage while they played, although my pictures of the band aren’t that great. By the end, we were all dancing jigs by the palm tree.

I got a lot of good pictures that day. Here are a few:

The crowd by the stage listening to a rollicking song. San Franciscans can be so reserved.

Robin, with a beer in his pocket

Random girl in red

Kyle and Rachel talk

This guy had attitude

Robin and his friends cheering Flogging Molly’s finale

I will start talking about my writing life on here again presently. In the meantime, here’s some Flogging Molly.

Update: Marcia wrote about the festival too.

It was the weekend of festivals. On Saturday, I went to the San Francisco Oyster and Beer Fest to see the band Flogging Molly. On Sunday, I went to Maker Faire in San Mateo, which is put on by O’Reilly to promote Craft and Make Magazines. I took lots of pictures, too many for one entry, so I will split it up into two.

I will start with the second part of the weekend, the Maker Faire.

As an O’Reilly author, Kyle was asked to host the “Hacker’s Lemonade Stand,” where he answered questions about Knoppix, Ubuntu, or Linux Multimedia. Here he is at the booth helping some girls:

I, on the other hand, wandered around and looked at the crafts at the Bazaar Bizarre and all the exhibits. I saw robots, strange-looking bicycles, and explosions. But one of the neatest things for me was walking into the Make Store where O’Reilly was selling its books and seeing not one, but two, giant posters of the covers of Kyle’s books hanging on the wall. Here is the picture of the Knoppix Hacks poster (he’s almost done with the update of that book, by the way).

Wandering around, I got tons of article ideas and ended up buying some coasters and an art print. Here are some pictures:

The main room of the fair

This kid was playing a video game using that plane as a controller

Pirate guy

By wearing that suit, that guy was playing music on the computer just by moving his body.

Knitting and drumming at the same time, for some reason.

They were shooting fire with those gun things. It made children cry.

The children were happier with the giant robotic giraffe.

He will write you a poem about anything.

Tomorrow, part two of my weekend: The Beer Fest and Flogging Molly.

Last night I went to Modest Mouse at SJSU’s Event Center. I liked it a lot. They are a good band, man. Marcia wrote about it here, and I concur. I would also add that Modest Mouse is one of those bands that is better on CD than in person, but they are still worth seeing live.

I am listening to new albums right now. Here’s some mini-reviews:

Bright Eyes — Cassadaga– My problem with Conor Oberst is that he tends to be melodramatic. When he’s not melodramatic, I like him. On this album, he’s exploring new age-y stuff like psychics and energies and other things that make me barf, so you would think I would hate it. But I don’t. It’s a good album. Everything on it is broad and ladened, from the long poems disguised as lyrics to the layerings of many musical instruments. Still, the melodies are fully formed, and although Oberst is treading on much-treaded territory, his spin on it is somehow fresh, and sad without being maudlin (for once).

Tori Amos — American Doll Posse– I haven’t liked Tori’s last few albums. This album is better–no songs about her daughter running with ribbons flying and women carrying parasols this time around. She even gets a little early-Patti-Smith-sounding in parts. Still, this album bores me. I turn it on expecting to listen to it, forget about it, and next thing I know, it’s over. Oh Tori. I think the adorable weirdo is gone forever. (This interview reminded me why I loved Tori Amos when she first came out.)

Arctic Monkeys — Favourite Worst Nightmare — Wow! I was so surprised by how good this album is. It’s tougher, harder, and more varied than their first album, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. It significantly raised this band’s esteem in my mind. It’s good rock and makes you want to move.

Bjork — Volta – At some point, Bjork became too esoteric for me and I didn’t get her anymore. So I was happy to see her coming back to earth in Volta, especially in songs like Earth Invaders and Declare Independence. She’s still exploring cool sounds and beats, but in a way that holds together as something that can be called a song. This album is more focused on the outside–the audience, the world, whatever–and less on Bjork’s own inner realms, and that makes all the difference in how much more enjoyable it is to listen to.

Willy Mason — If the Ocean Gets Rough – There’s something I like about Willy Mason. Maybe it’s his voice, which sounds more mature and deep than his age (23?). Maybe it’s that his songs seem to get at an authentic emotional landscape that most folk songs pretend to get at, but don’t. I don’t think this album is perfect–I don’t like the plunking keyboard in “I Can’t Sleep,” I find “Save Myself” repetitive, etc.–but there’s just something I really like about it anyway.

Amy Winehouse — Back To Black – From everything I can tell by the gossip magazines, Amy Winehouse is a Peter-Doherty-style mess, but at least she can really sing. I love the retro soul-singer sound of this album, and I love Winehouse’s deep voice, the kind of voice that fills the breadth of sound waves to bursting. Not all the songs are good–some are so bad they feel like filler (If My Man Were Fighting an Unholy War? Huh?) and others are over-produced–but she effortlessly brings a sense of style and soul to the better songs.

I could go on, but I won’t. Let me know if you agree or not.

Last night, I dreamt about vampires. I was in a big quasi-Victorian room like an old-fashioned laboratory with card cabinets and nooks and doorways. Most of the dream consisted of me locking windows because it was going to be night soon, and we had to make sure that the vampires couldn’t get in.

But in true horror movie fashion, I forgot one section of the windows, and at nightfall the vampires came in anyway. They were a bunch of quaffed cool-looking people, the kind of 20-somethings who go to LA clubs to snort coke. A couple of celebrities were with them, and I remember thinking, “Wow, I didn’t know Cameron Diaz was a vampire.”

The vampires were clearly going to eat me, but at the moment they were too busy deciding who was going to hook up with whom to bother, giving me an opportunity to go into the kitchen and grab a knife. Brandishing it high, I ran out and stabbed my knife in one of the vampires, and … nothing happened. The knife handle just stuck out of its chest.

“I thought knives were supposed to kill you,” I said.

“Only stainless steel knives,” said the vampire.

“That knife is stainless steel,” I said.

The vampire rolled its eyes. “Obviously not,” it said.

I took the knife out of its chest and realized that the problem was that it was coated stainless steel, which blocked the stainless steel properties from affecting the vampire’s heart. So I ran into the kitchen to get a metal scrubber to rub the coating off the knife, but one of them followed me in there to kill me. Luckily, my favorite tomato knife was in the kitchen, and so I stuck that in the vampire instead. It worked, but instead of poofing like they do in Buffy, the vampire bled all over me like Tom Cruise does in Interview with a Vampire when Kirsten Dunst stabs him. As the blood and vomit went everywhere, all I could think about was how my pants were dry-clean only and this was going to be annoying to get out.

Then this delivery driver unlocked the front door with a key to give me something I had ordered–thus letting in more vampires–so I told him to LOCK THE DAMN DOOR. And that’s when I remembered that I could levitate things with my mind. What a relief. Instead of stabbing the vampires, I could just levitate the knives and shoot them at them, stabbing them in the heart and avoiding blood and also danger.

Just as the dream was getting good with me getting to save the day with my levitating powers, I woke up. I discovered I was squeezing my hands into fists, probably because I believed they had knives in them. I don’t know how long I had been doing this, but I’m guessing a long time. They are kind of sore now.

This is the second time this week I have caught myself making fists during sleep. So maybe it isn’t the writing that’s causing the sore hand problem after all.

All I am doing is buying things from thrift stores (small red leather Guess purse for $2? Yes!), reading (poems, Faulkner, Tolstoy), and obsessing over my garden (Is the lime tree not getting enough iron? If not, then what is wrong with it?). Oh and writing. And listening to some new albums. I can’t imagine this is interesting to other people. So, since the peas have begun to sprout on my vines, I leave you with this:

They make me happy.