When you design a classroom please plan to place the clock opposite the whiteboard. The students do not need to see the clock. The professor or teacher does. When you put the clock above my head, it serves as a distraction to students. It also means I must crane my neck around to time my lesson plans.
Why do the people who design things rarely consult with the people who use them?
You know, I like Borders (the bookstore) a lot. They serve fairly good coffee in the cafe, and they carry my books (sometimes). I wrote a chunk of my dissertation and some of my first book in that cafe, most of my entertainment budget involves books I buy from there.
But whoever decided to put a television in the cafe is an idiot who should be fired immediately. I don’t want to listen to an advertisement for a show about, I guess, older women who have sex with younger men, a dozen times in an hour, and I surely don’t want the same annoying music looped over and over to compete with the store music.
You know you’re watching too much House when you notice a red line on ball of your thumb and think “I wonder if I have some sort of disease” before you realize that you were just grading papers.
Magic Power Language Symbol has won the COVR award in the category of magic.
I had the great good fortune and honor of giving a radio interview with Dina Vessi on her show this week. If you have some urge to hear my voice, here’s an opportunity. Recordings of my own voice give me heartburn, so I sat in the next room and heard a muffled version through the wall as my partner listened to it.
Finally, something is coming. It’s spotty but it always is at the beginning. I kind of see each writing project as a series of islands arising from the ocean floor. At first, you can’t see how they’re connected, but eventually the whole thing comes up and you see it all as a whole. That metaphor sounded much better when it was still in my head.
In other news, evidently you can buy my second book at Target.
This new book just — ain’t. It’s not flying.
Geh. I hate writing some days. Well, actually, most days. Still, better than anything else I could be doing.
I think the issue is, I have three book ideas in my head at once, but they’re all kind of similar and overlappy. And none of them has that handle to them that makes them exciting to write.
Look at that! I came in two days before the deadline (the extended deadline, granted, but still). For me that’s pretty good.
I just went to see Star Trek, in an effort to get an idea for this article I have due soon. Unfortunately, I didn’t get an idea, but halfway through the movie I found myself muttering: “Wait. There are canyons in Iowa?”
Ah, well, I was entertained.
I feel sheepish. Blame it on grading, if you like.
I’ve been kicking around an idea for another book — I mean, after the novel I’ve been gnawing on. I kind of want to explore what the point of magic is — why we do it, what it’s for. That sort of thing. Then I can dive into epistemology and other long Greek words, get paid fifty dollars for a year’s work, and feel a sense of accomplishment. Sorry, I’m not bitter. I’m actually kind of perky. But if I sold out, I thought I was supposed to get some money, damn it.
