Peterhof

One of the ideas behind Summer Literary Seminars is taking people out of their comfort zones and tossing them into complete unfamiliarity. This is supposed to do a number of things. First, people turn to something familiar and not only take comfort in it but also immerse themselves in it fully. (This was writing and/or drinking in St. Petersburg.) Second, the experience is fodder for later productivity, be it writing again or merely inspiration to live a little differently. Now the third thing that the Summer Literary Seminars program does is make participants long for home. Russia is an amazing place, but so is home. We learn not to take home for granted quite as much. We learn to see beauty at home.

Until our pictures return from the developers, and we think to ourselves, "I could never have taken that picture at home." Which is always true. The picture above is a building at Peterhof, City (Palace) of Fountains. Peterhof is in Russia, so of course I couldn't take this picture at home. But it reminds me that I could take decent pictures at home, if only I would look more carefully. Or if only I played around with the photos in Photoshop.

Adobe. Adobe. Anerd.

If you happen to be a student, I recommend getting your hands on Adobe Creative Suite 2 (Premium). If you don't happen to be a student, find a way to get this software for less than retail price. The best part of my day was not (finally) mailing off my MFA applications and portfolios, nor completing FAFSA forms online with the easy-to-use website offered by the government, nor discovering that I would actually get paid for proofreading a manuscript. No. None of those wonderful things. The best part of my day was sitting in front of my computer for nearly three hours, completely absorbed in the training video for Adobe CS2. It made me tingly. Oh, the things I can do with it! Maybe I'll start a magazine. Maybe I'll publish books. Maybe maybe maybe... the world opens up to me. I am inspired by slick graphics and an attractive user interface. I am captured. I am captive. I am amazed, in awe, jaw-dropped.

Yes. All it takes is some pretty pictures to inspire me. Sometimes life really is that simple.

Night Terrors

Dark out, as it tends to be when I walk my dog at night. She's almost finished. We are about set to come back in. I tell her "Go potty" like the training books say, and she's looking around for one last place to pee before we head inside. She doesn't see him crossing the parking lot, coming towards us. He has a bag slung over his shoulder. He comes up quietly, is 10 feet away or less when she notices him. And then she's startled by his sudden presence. She barks. This is to be expected when she's startled. She growls a bit. It's more of a growling with surprise than a growling with ferocity. I talk to her calmly, try to get her to relax. He asks her name. I tell him over her barking. I repeat it. He says it, and she's confused. How does he know my name? she might be thinking. But I won't pretend to know if she is thinking at all, if she is operating on instinct... or if she is acting as guard dog, my protector. She doesn't move towards him when he says her name, but runs away. She can't seem to get far enough away from him, doesn't want to say hi, doesn't want to get rubs. Does something about him rub her the wrong way? She doesn't calm down, keeps barking. He doesn't move. He stands there, watching. I move closer to my dog, lean to her head and whisper in her ear. She's not convinced. I should pay attention to that, but I don't. I am simply hoping he leaves so that she will not bark anymore. It takes him a while. He stands next to us like he belongs there, but I can't remember seeing him around the neighbourhood. Eventually he walks away, probably because she won't be quiet. "She needs some more training," he mutters as he leaves. It's not the reprimand of someone who doesn't like dogs. It's the comment of someone who just wants her to stop barking so he could proceed to... to not draw attention.

And suddenly I realize how creeped-out I am. How he was standing there, a stranger, how he learned her name so easily. How he might have quieted her and gotten closer.

After I take a shower tonight, I search my place. I want no strange men in here. I search, and I lock up. I double-check the locks. And I rub my dog generously for not giving in, even when he said her name. I love her hard, and damned if I'll silence her when she may be protecting me. Growl, my pup. Growl fiercely. Bless them beasties.

Conclusion

I have come to a conclusion. Or rather, I am forcing myself to make this decision and stick with it: I am not entering the 3-Day Novel Contest this year. I am too old for it, mentally and physically. Even though I finished last year with six hours to spare and managed to make the shortlist, I don't feel like going through the Week After. That week is filled with lengthy hours typing (because I need to handwrite everything) and panicking. And that Week After is always the week that school starts. So the weekend begins with brain freeze, leads into writing, and progresses into Dub Tee Eff moments (where am I going with this? can I write a whole novel in a weekend? should I give up now? is this making any sense?) accompanied by extreme agitation, anxiety, and emotional wreckage. And then there is the need to Just Get Away From It All. Which is hard to do when you've committed to writing a novel in three days. But in a moment of exhaustion, everything is finished. You've burnt yourself out after writing three days straight, and you just want to rest... but you have to type up the piece you wrote and mail it it. More exhaustion. Pleas for help. You finally finish typing, mail it in, and start school on the same day.

Starting school on the exhausted note is not a good way to begin the year.

Yes indeed, I am too old for such things.

Even though I may be working and not schooling this year.

But I already have come up with an alternative: back to NaNoWriMo! That's right. I am pretty sure I entered once before but barely wrote. This time, if I enter, I will finish. It's that simple. I trade one mediocre-writing contest for another, and I am okay with that. If it gets me writing more, that's excellent. It is time to write. That's the whole reason I'm thinking about doing an MFA: I'm ready to write. I may start off slowly, I may start off poorly, but right now I need to START.

Stealing Credit

Welcome to a blog that is me me me. (That is redundant x5, for those of you keeping score. And for those same folks of you keeping track, my blog ego rating will be roughly between 31 and 78.) The first thing I am going to do here is brag. Did I have something extraordinary published recently? No. Did I write a beautiful song? No. (But I have ideas for one, and that counts for... something greater than 0 and less than 1, I think.) Yet I did take some pictures this weekend that, with the use of some new photo software, turned out beautifully. This is an extraordinary accomplishment, considering that my poor Advantix camera no longer zooms nor wants to take purty pictures. But Advantix shots plus photo editing software equals surprising deliciousness. So there you go. The above is a picture that I am in love with. The smile is completely genuine and the result of some Utah Phillips talkery or some T.O.F.U. boldness. (T.O.F.U. = Tons Of Fun University. A spoken word trio that boggles the mind with its awesomeness.) I could talk about the subject of the photo, but that might drop my blog ego rating a bit too low. Let's just say that his likeness, in varying forms, has been entered in a photography contest. And the fact that I can take credit for merely capturing a beautiful moment really is quite stupid. And I love it.