Brain dumpings
I’m getting bored with the template for this site. I want to keep it broadly looking like it does (one column, minimalist, horizontal elements rather than vertical ones) but perhaps with a little more … you know … p’ching. Then again, maybe I won’t bother. The built-in Blogger templates make my eyes water, I can’t use those. I dunno. What do you think?
Having got a very exciting commission for an article, it appears that all of the world’s knowledgeable experts on the subject in question are either on holiday, permanently in meetings, or just painfully busy. The article would have been written hours ago, if I only I could talk to someone. Tooth-crunchingly frustrating.
The new mattress we had delivered today smells odd. I wonder if this is its way of flolloping. I’ve left the bedroom window open to air it a bit. I’m hoping it might say “Voon”.
The harsh virtual reality of home decorating
I spent much of this morning decorating, and because decorating is the most boring thing in the world, I entertained myself by trying to come up with some ideas for a science fiction story. Needless to say (though I’m going to say it anyway) this is the kind of idle thought that has drifted around my head for years now.
So far, no entertaining plot ideas have emerged, despite this being the third house I’ve co-owned and therefore been forced to decorate. Anyway.
I started out with this thought: “No galactic civilisations. No warp drives. No super zappy stuff. Let’s think realistically.” So I emulsioned the walls and imagined a future human history that remains stuck unhelpfully in the Solar System. Even 10,000 years from now. Which is a loooong time, plenty of time for people (the concept of person, even) to change, but pretty much nothing in celestial history terms. I ummed in my head about AI and Ganymede and half a dozen other ideas that Arthur C Clarke probably thought of half a century or more ago, then found I’d finished the painting and stopped for fried egg sandwich.
Then, this evening, Warren Ellis happened to mention something called “Mundane SF” and I sat up straight in front of my computer. He didn’t mean … surely not - someone had already written stuff like this? Gah! Of course they have. There’s a whole bloody genre full of it.
Now all the time I was hoping to spend writing my Mundane science fiction story will be taken up reading the backlog of stuff that’s gone before. At this rate, I shall have to decorate the living room and the downstairs loo before I have any chance of coming up with an original idea.
I want backspace in my pen
Today I had to do some editing of several lengthy documents. The only sane way to do work like this is to print it out, sit in a comfortable chair with good natural light and a hot cup of tea, and crack on.
But the downside was the need for me to make notes in the document margins. I found myself struggling to write anything that other people would be able to make sense of, because my handwriting has grown steadily more terrible as my use of computers has increased.
When writing with a pen nowadays, I’ve become very lazy about spelling and grammar, far more so than I would be if I was typing the same text. It’s because I’m so used to having the chance to backspace and correct my errors as I go along - consequently, I don’t worry too much about the errors in the first place. I expect them to happen, my brain allows me to make them, smugly assuming that it can save itself from public embarrassment during the final edit.
My handwriting isn’t just a mess; it’s a chore. I am appalled at the thought of it. The simple solution would be to practice regularly by writing proper old-fashioned letters to friends, instead of flinging half-hearted texts and emails their way every once in a while. But the first solution that popped into my head was: “I want a backspace in my pen.”
Happy Feet was rubbish
Nice animation, but blimey, they really struggled to decide which film they were making, didn't they?
"Let's do a musical, with dancing penguins!"
"Yeah! And! Ummm - let's copy that scene from the wildlife documentary, where the whale played with the seal pup by flicking it into the air over and over again!"
"Yeah! And let's put in some environmentalism!"
"Yeah, cos that's hip, right?"
"Right. And right at the end, we'll do something about overfishing!"
"And zoos! Zoos are bad!"
"Yeah! But not too much badness."
"No, not too much. Can't lay it on too thick. Family movie."
"Family movie, yeah."
Stagnant
I’m feeling creatively deflated, have been for a couple of weeks now. Work has calmed down a great deal since the insane busy spell I had from September to November, and I was rather looking forward to having some time in which I might indulge in some creative writing for my own pleasure.
But it’s been impossible to even start. Despite hours in front of the computer, expecting the words to come, I’ve been unable to come up with anything approaching even a half-hearted idea. And that’s after trying out some of my own tips for inspiring creative thinking.
It’s probably time to have a more thorough break, to immerse myself in some books and some much-needed DIY; and hopefully returning to a more creative state of mind in the New Year.
Foons Direct
I’ve been a First Direct customer for years, but this week’s announcement about new account fees has put me this close to shifting my account elsewhere.
Thing is, I don’t think the fees will apply to me - only because I already have a savings account with them (which I think has a balance of about £6). That’s just luck, though. If I didn’t have that account, there’s no way I could promise to have a minimum of £1,500 worth of salary being paid into my account every month.
Why not? Because I’m freelance. My income is wildly variable. Some months I will do amazingly well and pack away thousands of pounds. Other months I’ll earn practically nothing.
The ability to call First Direct any time of day or night to pay a bill has always been very attractive to someone as disorganised as me. But even though I think I’ll qualify for “free” banking under their new rules, I find the approach they’ve taken less than sensitive. I think I’ll go off in search of a bank that welcomes my money in any amount, at any time, rather than one that insists on trying to impose order on the chaos that is my (and almost every other freelancer’s) income.
