Monday, June 12, 2006
Sunny and warming up
Busy day yesterday. Nice trip out to acupuncture, and boy, do I feel better! Lots of traffic, but, for the most part, it kept moving.
Worked on the racing article, which goes out first thing this morning. I roughed the hockey article, but by the time it goes to press, another game will have been played, so it will already be out of date. I think I’m going to skip that one. It was more commentary than reportage, anyway. You want serious hockey reportage – read Damien Cox!
The Tony Awards party was fun. I’m glad that History Boys won best play and Jersey Boys won best musical. Now I wonder which shows will put up their closing notices, and how many more people will be thrown out of work for the summer.
I have to do some correspondence regarding the Situation, and will probably have to get the cops involved before the day is through. I also need to bake a lemon cake for tonight’s meeting, work on what I’m going to say at the Town Council meeting on Wednesday, work on Wednesday’s exercise, and, most importantly, finish the ghost story.
Debra (Pendrifter) tagged me the other day to write six weird things about me (only six?):
--Punctuality is very important. As far as I’m concerned, if someone is chronically late, they are showing disrespect. I don’t put up with that. If I’m not enough of a priority for you to be on time, why should I waste any of my precious time on you, when I could be writing? My rule is not to wait more than 15 minutes. It’s one thing if someone is genuinely caught in traffic or the train breaks down, or whatever – and then calls. It’s another to breeze in, chronically late, and act like it’s okay, because it’s not. I don’t spend time on people who don’t respect my time. Period.
--Noise. I am hypersensitive to repetitive machine noise, like leaf-blowers, jackhammers, etc. It’s actually a diagnosed condition with lots of consonants in it – a jackhammer can trigger a heart attack if I’m around it for a prolonged period of time. The sound is painful –I literally feel like my skin is being peeled off, and I start to hyperventilate, and get aggressive (because, in fight-or-flight responses, I tend to stand and fight).
--I need to be around books. All the time. I’m always carrying a book. I have lots of books around me. I seek out bookstores, libraries, etc. If I visit someone (such as a weekend guest) and there aren’t any books in the house, I don’t go back. Needless to say, there are plenty of places in LA to which I’ll never return!
--I put up with much more from my animals than I would with people. I would never tolerate a child pulling the kind of stunts some of the cats do.
--A part of me is writing all the time. Terry Brooks touches on this in Sometimes the Magic Works, admitting he’s not all “here”, wherever “here” is. Most writers always have a part of themselves standing separate, digesting information to be used later on in the work. It doesn’t make me experience things any less – if anything, I probably experience them more – but there’s always a part of me writing.
--I hate the telephone. Loathe it. Use it as little as possible. I’d much rather communicate in writing or in person. It’s not my idea of a good time to spend an hour chatting on the phone. Most of the time, I have all the phones turned off, and check my machine/voice mail at regular intervals. I refuse to be at anyone’s beck and call. These machines are created to help me manage my time and protect my writing time. Not to make me available to all idiots at all times. If I’m out with someone and they’re on the phone all the time, or text messaging, I leave. Either the present moment is the priority, or go take care of your emergency. It goes back to the respect factor mentioned above. I won’t be treated that way. Period.
So, those are my six biggest eccentricities.
Oh, I have a seventh BIG one that I have to mention – my car is always clean. It is not a moving garbage can, and anyone who leaves trash in my car is never allowed in it again. I can’t stand it when cars are full of empty soda cans and old hamburger wrappers, etc. I think it’s inexcusable. Yes, even kids. They’re never too young to pick up a hamburger wrapper and put it in the proper bin.
Now, off to the bank, and then – to write.
PS -- I'm tagging Colin to list his six eccentricities.