Weirdo
I often fall in love with ideas.
Today I was doing some yard work and started singing the praises of wheelbarrows. These devices are thousands of years old, dating back to ancient Greece, according to Wikipedia. In all that time, the basic design has remained the same, although improvements have been made in terms of lighter and stronger components. You can pile a heavy load of dang near anything in one, and transport the material wherever it needs to go. You can move crops from a farm, rocks from a quarry, firewood from a forest, sand from a beach, ice blocks from a frozen lake, books from a library, drunken delegates from a political convention...and the list goes on and on. Such a versatile invention!
The other day I became enamored of the concept of revising. You write draft after draft after draft dafter raft drafter aft rafter daft of a story, determined not to stop until every thought is *just* as you want it to be, and each and every word on the page has a *purpose*, a reason for being there. There's something about the whole process that seems very romantic to me, and even a bit mystical. ...Of course, the reality of the thing is quite different, at least for me; when put to it, I believe I've run screaming from every second draft of anything I've ever tried to write (and half of the first drafts, too, for that matter).
Earlier this summer (I think it was around mid-June) I fell in love with the idea of a bowl of cornflakes. A simple meal, that: no ostentation, but nourishment and quiet dignity.
I have loved Forever stamps for a while now. What a brilliant idea from the U.S. Postal Service! You can buy a stamp, hang onto it for *eons*, and (assuming the government hasn't collapsed by then) you can use it to mail a letter without needing *any* additional postage! Every time I go to get a book of stamps, I am always amazed that they haven't run out yet. If I had the money, I'd be hoarding and speculating on these babies like nobody's business. It would have been nice if this innovation had spurred on a revival of the fine art of letter-writing, but I suppose that's a post for another day.
In conclusion, I am a crazy person.
Today I was doing some yard work and started singing the praises of wheelbarrows. These devices are thousands of years old, dating back to ancient Greece, according to Wikipedia. In all that time, the basic design has remained the same, although improvements have been made in terms of lighter and stronger components. You can pile a heavy load of dang near anything in one, and transport the material wherever it needs to go. You can move crops from a farm, rocks from a quarry, firewood from a forest, sand from a beach, ice blocks from a frozen lake, books from a library, drunken delegates from a political convention...and the list goes on and on. Such a versatile invention!
The other day I became enamored of the concept of revising. You write draft after draft after draft dafter raft drafter aft rafter daft of a story, determined not to stop until every thought is *just* as you want it to be, and each and every word on the page has a *purpose*, a reason for being there. There's something about the whole process that seems very romantic to me, and even a bit mystical. ...Of course, the reality of the thing is quite different, at least for me; when put to it, I believe I've run screaming from every second draft of anything I've ever tried to write (and half of the first drafts, too, for that matter).
Earlier this summer (I think it was around mid-June) I fell in love with the idea of a bowl of cornflakes. A simple meal, that: no ostentation, but nourishment and quiet dignity.
I have loved Forever stamps for a while now. What a brilliant idea from the U.S. Postal Service! You can buy a stamp, hang onto it for *eons*, and (assuming the government hasn't collapsed by then) you can use it to mail a letter without needing *any* additional postage! Every time I go to get a book of stamps, I am always amazed that they haven't run out yet. If I had the money, I'd be hoarding and speculating on these babies like nobody's business. It would have been nice if this innovation had spurred on a revival of the fine art of letter-writing, but I suppose that's a post for another day.
In conclusion, I am a crazy person.