I have to say, I never thought I would ever post about this.
I’m leaving WordPress.
After three years (two years on the previous blog) with WP, I finally think it’s time to move on. I loved it initially for a few reasons: it was easy to install, easy to understand, and the community.
However, after attending WordCamp, I am very disillusioned with the whole community aspect these days. Suggestions were made to “those in charge” about fundamental things in the WP community that wern’t working, and “those in charge” seemed like they were willing to do something about it. Unfortunately, some five months later, nothing has changed, and WordCamp is just like a bad dream.
Enter Habari. Granted, the whole system isn’t coded up yet, but I think that’s half the fun. I’ve been a steady fixture in the IRC room and mailing list when I’m able, and I’ve been encouraged to voice what I think should be going on with development. From excerpts to tags, to documentation, I’ve been made to feel welcome and needed, even without any programing abilitities.
Also, working on Habari gives me the chance to do something I’ve always wanted to do, but never had the chance: I’ll have a hand in creating the documentation that works alongside Habari. With plans to ship with a full instruction manual, this is a crucial step, and one I am very happy to be involved it.
As soon as a WP importer has been made, I’ll be making the switch to Habari. After all, if I’m going to document it, I’m going to have to break it first.
I don’t know what this post is about.
Usually, when I sit down to write, I’ve got some idea of what I want to write about. Which means that yes, I really did want to talk about a cliche book that I didn’t like yesterday.
But today, my mind is blank, thinking of all the other things it wants to do besides write this post. There’s a book in my backpack that’s calling my name. And I’d really like to defeat the next level of Super Princess Peach. Ooh, and those poptarts look good, maybe I should stop and eat them. Perhaps I should be working on some poetry, I did bring my notebook. But no, post it is.
I got my replacement phone today. Somehow, I managed to destroy the last Razr, but it was still under warranty. After waiting around three weeks to call, my sister finally did it for me, and two days later it’s here. I’ve lost a lot of people’s phone numbers, which perhaps isn’t a bad thing. I mean, I haven’t wanted to call these people since the phone crapped out, and I doubt that’s going to change any time soon.
I’m also far too lazy to actually upload the photos from this weekend, even though I did manage to pull them off the camera last night. They’re nothing special, just pictures of Honey and my brother’s dog Rocky. When I saw them on the computer, I started laughing. Rocky really does start to blend into the rocks.
I had to clear the camera off so that my sister could borrow it. She’s hanging out with someone in Trackfighter (?) –I’m not sure if that’s exactly the band’s name, so maybe she can inform us all I’m wrong–and he wanted her to take photos. I gave her only the briefest of instructions on how to use it, but I’m sure even that was too much. I mean, what are really the odds she wants to use “portrait mode”? I’m much to dorky for my own good.
That’s all I have for today. My mind is a jumbled mess, and I’m probably going to hang out with ME tonight. Because this is the last week until I have to put my nose back to the grindstone.
–”Never There,” Prolonging the Magic: Cake
Yesterday, I read the YA novel Private by Kate Brian. And by yesterday, I ment in an hour and a half.
It’s not a long novel, nor is it very weighty. It’s genre is the new “young-adult-chic-lit,” and it fits in very well. The story is about Reed, a girl from Pennsylvania with a horrid family home-life, who begins her Sophomore year at Easton Academy, a private boarding school in Conneticut.
It’s very predictable, to say the least. Reed is of course there on scholarships, and of course she was a straight-A student at her previous school. She’s never had any real friends, and desperately wants be be one of the “Billings Girls,” girls who live in Billings Hall, and are generally considered the clique to be in. So of course Reed makes a bad first impression, and sells her soul to try to be in with them.
Reed becomes the girlfriend of the first guy she spoke to on campus; she loses her virginity within the first semester to him. The only originality here was that when he tells her he loves her, Reed nearly laughs:
“You know I love you, right?” he whispered.
I was so shocked I almost laughed.
“You don’t have to say that,” I said.
Briefly, anger flashed through his eyes. “I’m not lying. I love you. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t.
Yeah right.
Bryan doesn’t paint her lead character to be sentimental or naive, which is actually pretty new. Reed recognises that the Billings Girls are using her, but for the most part she doesn’t care, so long as she’s included. When they push her to do something she really doesn’t want to, she pushes right back, even though she’s afraid that they will drop her in response.
The end of the book isn’t really an end. There is no resolution. It’s not even the end of the school year. I realize that this is the first book in a series, but still, it should have ended better than this. I don’t want to give it away, in case someone gets it in their head to read it, but it’s very dissapointing.
The predictableness makes me not want to read any other books in this genre. I’ll probably finish out the series, because I liked Reed as a character well enough, but any other book set in high school will just feel like the same old story. I mean, you can only do the “down-and-out-recluse-makes-it-into-the-popular-clique” so many times before you start to wonder how original it really is.
If I didn’t have the habit of writing YA directed towards high school girls, I probably wouldn’t be reading novels like this. I figured I had better know what’s being published, what girls are reading, and make sure that I don’t fall into the same cliches that abound in Chic Lit–both YA and Adult. Especially since I’ve always wanted to write a novel about girls attending a boarding school.
I do think I’d rather stick to YA Fantasy for my reading, though. At least then the cliches are all magical.
Why is it that all of my best ideas seem to come to me in the middle of the night, when I’m attempting to fall asleep?
Perhaps it’s because I go over the day, think about what needs to be done and how I’m going to get to it, and something that needs to be written down just forces it’s way to the front. Poetry ideas, story ideas, article ideas…you get the idea. If I don’t get up and write it sometime before I fall asleep, I’ll never remember it when I wake up.
But, I so do hate getting out of bed to find something to write with. If the laptop is on the floor, I’ll open it up and type something out really quick, but when it’s packed away, I have to find a writing utensil, and something to write on, which isn’t always the easiest thing to do when you’re fumbling around in the dark. I’m not turning that light back on until I have to.
But last night a brillant idea for an article I’m planning on writing for a site that doesn’t exist yet, and I was so excited, I couldn’t contain it. Since I make up nearly everything I write (have you noticed the lack of quotes around here?), is was astounding to me that I could think up something that explained so precisly what I was trying to explain, and yet throw in an anicdote about how my father made us feel stupid while talking to him. Brilliant.
So now I have random notes all over the laptop, in weird files that have no business calling themselves documents. And now my list of files finally resembles the stack of papers all over my desk–no order or reason to the organization.
The real question is how long until I write the article using the most awesomely awesome analogy to come along since Shakespeare compared his love for a man to a summer day.
– “Soul Meets Body,” Plans: Death Cab for Cutie
I plowed through four books this week, which for some reason doesn’t seem like a lot. But, they were all longish books, three out of four of them over 400 pages. And only one romance. Not bad for the first week of the year.
- Jack Spratt Investigates: The Big Over Easy — Jasper Fforde
- Path of Honor — Diana Pharaoh Francis
- Path of Blood — Diana Pharaoh Francis
- To Distraction (A Bastion Club Novel) — Stephanie Laurens
As always, you can view the entire reading list for the year so far, and recommend me books you think I’d like. Or books you’d think I’d hate. Either way.
I’ve already talked about the book list before, and I really do hope people participate in it. It’s still early enough to feel like you’re not behind, and who doesn’t wonder just how many books they really do read throughout the year? Fishy is busy coding up a wordpress plugin to make it easy to add books to a WP page, and really, it’s not like I want people to review them all–just talk about the books occasionally.
Anyway, all this thinking about the book list leads me to believe my book pile isn’t nearly large enough.
It’s only 25 books or so deep. And when I mean pile, I mean pile. Each of these books is physically sitting in a pile, either on my desk or dresser, waiting to be picked up and read. And I should get through these books fairly soon, if I stay fathful to the pile. If ME doesn’t give me too many more books at the moment.
Looking at the pile gives a glimps into my current reading habits. A few classics, a few modern “literary” books, a lot of sci-fi/fantasy, books about writing, books about reading , and a lot of YA. Especially sci-fi/fantasy YA. “Good” advice always says you should read what you write, but I’ve only got it half right. I tend to write YA, but am disspointed in current YA written for girls. A lot of it seems to be Chic-Lit for the younger generation, and it’s hard to get enthused about reading that, in any form. I am going to attempt, though. There is a YA Chic-Lit on the pile as well.
So, I’m taking recomendations. Any book, any genre, any length. You put a name to it, and a reason I should read it, and I’ll find a way to get it onto the pile. I’m trying to branch out this year, after all.
And there’s been a flickr group started. I (along with the other readers in late-night IRC) want to see everyone’s book pile. So, take a picture and show us.
But really, what needs to be added to my pile?
I turned down a payed review today.
While I know most people wouldn’t write about what they didn’t do, I thought it was important to share with you all. I’m not a complete sell out.
The review was for Firefly, the phone sellers (I always see their ads on the MSN homepage), and I thought to myself, “there is no way I can write 200 words about this company and be honest.” And if nothing else, I’m always honest in my writing.
They wanted me to write about their current sales, and how easy it is to get a phone from them. How do I know it’s easy? I bought my cell phone in Wal-Mart. That was pretty easy. And a post about sales would just make me look like a classy splogger, and I’m not about to fall into that trap.
So, while I’m broke, and could have used that thirty dollars, I turned down a paying review. Because it wouldn’t have been right.
So please, donate some cash, alright?
So, I convinced ME to start a blog. I can be so persuasive sometimes.
Since we’re having a friendly book reading competition, I told her she should start a Real Blog (i.e. not on AOL) so that she can chronicle all her books and her opinions on them besides. It’s always nice when I can bring someone over to the dark side.
She spent over a half an hour just working on the tag line, and waffling between what the title of the blog should be. I take this as a good sign, that she’s taking the whole blogging thing very seriously, as any proper English Major should do. But, all this thinking about words and word placement means that it could be awhile until she gives in and writes crap like everyone else. But it will be good crap, when she finally gets to it.
But, I’m sure it’ll be entertaining. Eventually. After she reads a book or two.
Until then, we can all just go over and harass her to write something. Anything.
– Me’s tagline, a quote from somewhere we can’t remember.
You would think that after riding the bus for four years, I would know by now that the only thing I can do while on the bus is sleep—otherwise I get nauseous.
And yet, still, I attempt to do something more productive with my time. I mean, it is a rather long bus trip. Sleeping seems like such a waste of time, when I could be reading, or knitting, or trying to defeat the lasted videogame I’m playing.
But fifteen minutes in—no matter what I’m attempting to do—I become sick, and have to spend the rest of the trip with my eyes closed, willing myself not to puke, because I don’t have time to get off the bus I’m on and wait for the next one to show up.
This version of motion sickness seems very weird to me, considering that I don’t get sick on boats, on trains, or in airplanes. But stick me in a vehicle that has wheels, and I’m going to lose hours of my life for lack of being able to do anything else while traveling.
This pains me to admit, considering I’m an extreme multi-tasker. I’m not really and truly happy unless I’ve figured out a way to do two things at once. Reading and eating? Reading and walking? Check. Reading and knitting? Check. Reading while traveling in a car? No.
And I don’t understand the difference between the bus and the lightrail—why does one make me sick when the other doesn’t? I suppose it’s a mystery that will never be satisfactorily explained.
But, if there was ever a scientific study done for this type of motion sickness, I’m in. I’m all for a cure, so that I can go back to doing what I do best—procrastination while looking productive. Because while I’m multitasking, I’m sure to be avoiding what really needs to be done.
– “Your Heart is an Empty Room,” Plans: Death Cab for Cutie
