The fine art of kicking a dead horse June 30, 2008
Posted by philangelus in pensive, sarcasm.3 comments
I’ve had this conversation with two different people, and I’m finding it hard to believe the business world really operates this way. Please enlighten.
I expressed surprise that a publishing house would re-consider a book nixed by a single high-powered individual right after that individual left the publisher. My Patient Husband said, “Doesn’t surprise me at all.”
I’m surprised because it seems they’re admitting they hired someone for a powerful position who made bad decisions. My Patient Husband said, “We do that all the time. We blame the last person who left, and as soon as the door hits him on the way out, we pounce like a band of rabid hyenas on all the decisions he made that we didn’t like, and we undo them all.”
Later I related this to my mother, who said, “Oh, absolutely. Even if the decision was made twenty years ago, and the person only worked here for three. Charlie left? Well, that program isn’t working because of a decision Charlie made. Those changes Charlie made to process? No one does them anymore.”
I said, Aren’t these businesses interested in covering themselves? Afraid they’ll look bad?
My Patient Husband said, “Who’s to see? They don’t care. It makes it easier for the organization to fictionally believe itself perfect, if the person making the mistakes is the one who just left.”
But if everyone KNOWS this open secret, is it effective?
He laughed. “Heck, my old department is already joking around about what stuff they’ll blame me for when I’m finished transferring to the new department.”
It just seems so…unprofessional. Overall I figured that at an organizational level, corporations were interested in appearing to be in lockstep. An executive is incompetent or otherwise blocking the group’s vision, so he’s maneuvered into early retirement or finding other employment. The executives don’t then turn around and say, “Eltrude was a putz,” but rather say, “Yes, that’s company procedure” and wait a suitable amount of time before “reorganizing” or “implementing new policy” or whatever euphemisms will smooth it over. You know, the way you’d read in the paper. “We’ve decided to take the company in a new direction.” Not, “Boy, we are so glad he’s out of here!”
On the inside, things function a lot differently! (I’d better never write a novel about corporate intrigue. It’d be funny, but not the way I want it to be.)
This idea that “Eltrude left on Monday, so on Tuesday we’ll implement all the improvements he blocked with his old-guard ways” is, to me, very strange. And yet I’m being told everywhere I ask that this is exactly how the business world works, that it preserves the integrity of the corporation, and that it’s understood and accepted.
Oh, that and and get all your references in a row before you leave. Seeing as you’ll have made all these mistakes by tomorrow.
weblog tour: colors/tastes June 28, 2008
Posted by philangelus in food, weblog tour.7 comments
Time for the weblog tour!
Topic for week ending 6/28/08 by housewife2k
“What colors have a taste?” examples if needed, some foods or drinks just taste the color they are, like Blue Frost Gatorade tastes, well, blue!
Actually, I wrote about blue Gatorade a while back, if you’re new to this weblog. 
I’ve heard of synesthesia, the condition where senses get mixed up and you see sounds or certain physical sensations cause you to hear certain sounds. One man with synesthesia had to break up with his girlfriend because the sound of her name created an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
I am rather practical in this regard. Although sometimes sounds will cause me to see flashes of light, I keep my tastes in my mouth and my sights in my eyes. The rest of my life is so disorganized that at least something works correctly.
But oranges, clearly, taste like oranges, so that color can have a taste.
Pink would seem to have a washed-out taste.
Blue would seem to be cold, almost icy.
The reason I’m having problems answering this is that I like foods as much for texture as for taste, and for heat/cold too. And yes, anyone who wants to can make the joke that I have no taste. Heck, I’ll make it for you.
Some foods look like they should have a different color than they are, though. I, personally, have always been a fan of root beer and orange soda that are clear. It’s one of the lame ways I surprise myself when my routine needs shaking-up. (Woohoo! When will this mad crazy merry-go-round existence ever end?)
Put a better answer than mine in the comment box. Please.
–
http://meganeileen2005.typepad.com/ twinkletoes
http://thatsloanegirl.blogspot.com/ CathyF
http://wryexchange.com/ Wry Exchange
http://www.absentmindedhousewife.com/ beckygoesape
http://verycontrary.wordpress.com/ Contrary
http://amandagorby.blogspot.com/ amanda_tg
http://whatsmylife.blogspot.com/ grinningcomb
http://nolechica.livejournal.com nolechica
http://addierambles.blogspot.com andra
http://la-eme.livejournal.com MsMoonbunny
http://mischief0617.wordpress.com/ CrowGirl
http://www.housewife2000.blogspot.com housewife2k
http://fatgirlartist.blogspot.com/ Amy Rose
http://lulupop.wordpress.com Lulupop
http://chrisnada.livejournal.com/ Cnada
http://robandkrista.blogspot.com/ CelticGemini
http://anime-coroner.livejournal.com/. AllyKat
http://www.drunkenhousewife.com/ The Drunken Housewife
http://ladyj3000.blogspot.com/ LadyJ3000
http://heartstart.livejournal.com Heartstar1
http://hijinksshenanigans.blogspot.com/ Hijinks’s Shenanigans
http://deltatangosgbs.blogspot.com/ afbluebelle
http://sarahesperanza.wordpress.com/ SquishyMooMoo
http://www.dutifuldanielle.blogspot.com/ dpbenson
http://sinkingtent.blogspot.com/ ladiedeathe
http://divine-misse.livejournal.com Shotochick (only readable by those that have a livejournal account)
http://mrsbart.blogspot.com/ MrsBart
http://rainhaville.blogspot.com RainhaDoTexugo
Dear Editor June 27, 2008
Posted by philangelus in sarcasm, writing.1 comment so far
Dear Editor or Agent or whomever I just submitted to:
Write back. Write back now. Now. Tell me how much you love my stuff and that it would pain you to the depths of your soul not to send me a contract and a check. Tell me how my piece brightened your life and you long to share it with the world.
Accept it. Now. Write back to me. Now.
I mean, come on: you’ve already had the thing for a whole hour! How long could it possibly take?
Sincerely,
Philangelus, who knows darn well better than to SEND this email to anyone.
(For the record, my technique when I want to bug an editor is to, in fact, bug an editor. But go searching the markets and bug a different editor than the one who already has your stuff. This creates a self-sustaining cascade of submissions and prevents a writer from keeping all her hopes pinned to one market.)
Peace: an angel-moment June 26, 2008
Posted by philangelus in kiddos, religion.2 comments
You know the part of a church service where people shake hands? (In some kinds of church services, that is.) That’s called “the sign of peace.” People shake hands and say “peace” or “peace to you” or in my case, my Patient Husband kisses me. The “sign of peace” is the cause for much merriment among smaller children, many of whom pursue handshakes as if they “gotta catch ‘em all.”
Not all children, of course. Kiddo#3 detested the handshake part when he was smaller. At age two, he’d let out a distressed, “NO PEACE!” whenever anyone (including Mommy) attempted to shake his hand. And then at every other mention of the word “peace” until we left the church. Eventually I began to flinch at the word too, wishing Christ had granted us “calm” or “silence” or really, anything other than peace.
For the last few years, I’ve silently wished the household guardian angels peace at that time too. I figure it can’t hurt. There’s no accompanying handshake and no one knows I’m doing it, but I think that’s okay, and a couple of times I’ve forgotten to do it and been reminded that I missed someone.
Kiddo#4 still sleeps most of the way through church, which is a very good thing. It means it’s quieter for everyone else, and unlike Kiddo#3, he cannot yet object to being wished peace because, well, he’s asleep. I usually just kiss the top of his head before wishing peace to seven angels, three kids, and one Patient Husband.
But last week, just as the handshake festival began, I looked down and saw him smiling.
It was the quickest moment, just a breath of time: his sleeping face, slack, suddenly broken with a broad smile. A pure delight. And then, just as quickly, it faded.
Clearly, as he slept, someone had wished him peace. I think it was his guardian angel.
I can’t think June 25, 2008
Posted by philangelus in pensive.6 comments
Last Thursday saw the death knell of my laptop. The hard drive began to sing, and singing turned into whining, and whining turned into grinding, and all in the course of about five minutes. The laptop doctor will have it back to me in a few days, and my files are retrievable off the backup unit.
My Patient Husband remarked about how strange it was that my computer could die a horrid death and I could carry on so seamlessly. Once I got all my passwords back in place, I could access my email via web browser on his computer, and once I could do that, I was able to retrieve or guess passwords for most of my online sites (except for the Delphi one. Anyone who visits here from there, please send my regrets. I’m not ignoring you.)
Back when I was in college, hard drive failure would have brought about heart-failure in me. Nowadays it was an inconvenience. The joys of a multi-computer household.
(At the same time, we actually went down one more computer because we got rid of the obsolete one the Kiddos used for playing games and doing homework. We decided it wasn’t necessary to have four computers in the house, and that one was the easiest to rehome.)
My files are here. My email is here. My weblog is here. Why, then, can I not think?
Because you’d figure it would be easy to just hop onto the new computer, and using exactly the same programs, take over where I left off. Except it’s not. I sit at the desk where my Patient Husband’s Computer resides, and my brain goes blank.
It’s a host of things. I’m facing the wall. It’s a little darker here. The keyboard is at a different height. The mousehand is different. The entire interface is subtly different on his computer.
But that’s it: subtleties. The dock is at the bottom rather than the side. And yet, all these tiny changes render me unable to think. I had to write a query letter to a new agent, and I spent ten minutes trying on different sentences for one paragraph before I finally deleted the sentence entirely and sent it without.
I feel I’m wearing blinders. It doesn’t make any sense, but I feel trapped.
My Patient Husband says it’s muscle-memory that’s different. his keyboard is slightly different than mine (again that slightness) and because the interface is so clunky on a computer to begin with, those slight differences get in the way of an easy transition.
I’m wondering if it’s not less of a sense of ownership. And the fact that he’s customized the life out of his computers so often that even on my own non-customized account on his computer, I feel I’m living in his space. I can’t really relax here. I might do something. Like sitting on your Great Aunt Zelda’s couch, the one covered in plastic slipcovers, drinking tea from a china cup the width of one molecule: I’m tense. I should be fine, but I’m not.
If you were to lend me a pen with green ink and a notebook with non-standardly lined paper, I could write anyhow. I could read your Bible and be comfortable doing so, although I’d notice (and mentally correct) the differences. But this interaction is more complex. The closest I can come is to when I used to work for a rental car company: for the first five minutes in any of the cars, I’d feel I was wearing blinders, uncertain what the car would do for me.
I’ve been using this computer for days, not minutes, and it’s still “fighting” me. I’m afraid I won’t have brilliant weblog entries until my beloved comes home from the computer doctor. I just can’t think.
Annihilation: the end of the book! June 24, 2008
Posted by philangelus in Seven Archangels: Annihilation, writing.add a comment
The final two chapters of Seven Archangels: Annihilation have posted over at Mindflights Magazine. Next week will be the epilogue, and after that, well, you can read the whole thing all at once if you want. Or just go buy it over at amazon. (The link is in my sidebar.) There will be spoilers in the rest of this post.
Chapter 24 begins with Asmodeus and Belior doing what demons do best (backstabbing) and I’d like to point out for everyone that if Satan had simply taken the advice of Beelzebub (“Tie Asmodeus together with Israfel and leave them at the gates”) that the entire chapter wouldn’t have had to take place. But he didn’t, and we get to have some fun.
I committed a writing “bad” in this chapter, but it’s a well-controlled one: the POV shifts three or four times. It’s pretty seamless, though, and it creates a sense of the chaos as Hell erupts in war.
Pretty much everyone who’s read this loves Peter’s line at the end. But my favorite line is this:
A moment later, Raphael’s urgent voice: God says “Remember your strength.”
Gabriel shored up Israfel, slipped out of Satan’s hold again, and then had to brace Israfel once more.
Quit being cryptic, he prayed. I’ve got a lot going on here.
Yes, he’s shot that line at God Almighty. I love him.
Chapter 25 has a number of sweet “wrap up” type moments. There’s the care of the Cherubim for Israfel, their common loss in the knowledge they can no longer have (and the Seraphim’s detachment from the same knowledge) and then the moment where Gabriel and Raphael lose a bet. My father and Patient Husband both commented about the end of the chapter, “That blowed up good!”
(For the record, my father says God likes big explosions too, based on how the universe began. But that’s debatable.)
This has been a fun run. Next week when the epilogue runs, I’ll wrap up the commentary, and then we can start a letter-writing campaign to make Bill contract me for the other two Seven Archangels books.
Kiddo#1 objects June 23, 2008
Posted by philangelus in Asperger's, kiddos, sarcasm.5 comments
Kiddo#1: I don’t want to go to Vacation Bible School.
Me: Why not?
Kiddo#1: I just don’t.
Me: {no reply}
Kiddo#1: I need a t-shirt of Jonathan Papelbon.
Me: Why?
Kiddo#1, with a sly grin: That’s what it will take to make me go to Vacation Bible School.
Me: It’ll take a lot less than that.
Kiddo#1: What?
Me: I’m going to drive there tomorrow and leave your butt over there.
Kiddo#1: But the rest of me will come home with you again. I’ll just leave my butt there. And that will be gross and weird.
–
You can’t argue with that, can you? But yeah, I’m leaving him there anyhow.
The power of the pen June 22, 2008
Posted by philangelus in writing.8 comments
The end of the school year brings with it that dreaded animal, the school gift. I used to try being creative with them, picking out a book I thought the teacher would like, but lately I’ve just been picking up gift cards to B&N. Let ‘em select their own book. So there.
It’s not that I don’t like the teachers. I do. It’s time and mental energy I lack.
But this year, I had a terrific idea. Keep in mind that most of my Patented Brilliant Ideas result in death, destruction, panic and belly-button lint.
My idea? I’d get them awesome pens.
It was just as easy to get the teachers a Parker pen at Staples as it was to go across the street to B&N for a gift card, and it cost the same. They were pretty, and you know they’re going to get used.
I was in the room when Kiddo#2 handed her gift bags to her teacher and the para.
The teacher was delighted with the pen. The para looked confused, then told Kiddo#2 that it would be very useful, as she always needs “a pen that works.” Her thank-you note said the same thing.
That’s when it occurred to me: some people just don’t ‘get’ pens.
I’m a writer. Moreover, I’m a hand-writer. My handwriting itself is scrawl that probably gives God a headache trying to decipher it, but I much prefer to hand-write my novels. It just feels more intimate that way, like I’m in physical contact with the words I’m recording.
And really, there’s nothing to equal the feel of a high-quality fountain pen. It’s like writing with liquid air. (Plus, all the COLORS! You can get ink in any color you want! Whee!)
My Patient Husband discovered a while back that jewelry doesn’t make my eyes light up. When he wants to give me a special gift, he looks into the Watermans or the Sheaffers.
It’s not just me. A friend (who may identify herself if she wishes) showed me her engagement ring, and I said it was nice. Then she showed me the fountain pen her intended had given her at the same time, and I gushed over it, and she gushed over it, and we kept talking about the pen, and the poor guy finally muttered something about if he’d only known, he’d have saved the money on the ring and only gotten the pen.
But then there are the folks who think a pen is just a writing implement. Clearly my daughter’s para was one of those. And I feel bad.
I feel bad for her because I gave her a cruddy gift.
And I feel bad for the pen too. Because it deserved someone who would love it.
Weblog Tour: my superpower June 21, 2008
Posted by philangelus in weblog tour.18 comments
This week’s weblog tour question is something to the effect of, if you could be a superhero, what would you choose as your superpower? As usual, you’re invited to answer for yourself in the comment box.
I’ve thought about this for a little while now, and although I said two weblog tours ago that I always wanted to be the Phoenix, that isn’t what I’d choose for myself.
I’ve always wanted to fly, but that wouldn’t really help anyone. And I’d kind of like to be telepathic/empathic, but I’m almost that way now with living people and I’m definitely that way with characters I’ve created. If you’re telepathic, you probably pick up hurtful thoughts that zoom across people’s heads without them really meaning it. there’s too much potential for your own feelings to get hurt if you read minds.
That’s when I realized what I’d really like to be able to do: I’d like to be able to heal hearts.
It’s not a power I’ve seen in comic books, but that’s okay. I’ll be the first. I’d like to be able to read others’ emotions (receptive empathy) but at the same time, I’d like to have the prescience to know what they need inside. I want to be able to draw out the pain in others and shine healing light on it with the right words or the kind of comfort or insight that person needs.
I’ve realized in the last year or so that we’re all walking around broken. Even the ones who look like they have it all together are often the ones pulling it together hard just to avoid dealing with a long-ago buried pain. When things like that come home to roost, they can destroy everything we’ve worked for so hard. And then there are the people grieving a child or a spouse, or a broken relationship, or a lost job, or a book rejection (gotta plug myself here) or just an endless stream of disappointments in life.
The right word or the right gesture at the right time could give a person the ability to go on. I’d like to be able to give that to the person.
Some saints had the ability to read hearts. Padre Pio and St. Jean Vianney and St. Philip Neri all had the ability to know when someone had a serious spiritual impediment that was keeping him or her from full union with God. In order to be able to do that, I’d need to be able to read my own soul. But this might be a couple of steps below that kind of ability, and it’s the kind of thing that everybody needs.
If you can’t save the world, maybe you can save one person’s world. Or a bunch of people’s worlds.
–
Other stops on the weblog tour are:
http://meganeileen2005.typepad.com/ twinkletoes
http://thatsloanegirl.blogspot.com/ CathyF
http://wryexchange.com/ Wry Exchange
http://www.absentmindedhousewife.com/ beckygoesape
http://verycontrary.wordpress.com/ Contrary
http://amandagorby.blogspot.com/ amanda_tg
http://whatsmylife.blogspot.com/ grinningcomb
http://nolechica.livejournal.com nolechica
http://addierambles.blogspot.com andra
http://la-eme.livejournal.com MsMoonbunny
http://mischief0617.wordpress.com/ CrowGirl
http://www.housewife2000.blogspot.com housewife2k
http://fatgirlartist.blogspot.com/ Amy Rose
http://lulupop.wordpress.com Lulupop
http://chrisnada.livejournal.com/ Cnada
http://robandkrista.blogspot.com/ CelticGemini
http://anime-coroner.livejournal.com/ AllyKat
http://www.drunkenhousewife.com/ The Drunken Housewife
http://ladyj3000.blogspot.com/ LadyJ3000
http://heartstart.livejournal.com Heartstar1
http://hijinksshenanigans.blogspot.com/ Hijinks’s Shenanigans
http://deltatangosgbs.blogspot.com/ afbluebelle
http://sarahesperanza.wordpress.com/ SquishyMooMoo
Head-to-brick-wall at high velocity June 20, 2008
Posted by philangelus in family, kiddos, writing.8 comments
Oh, where to start? Let’s put Thursday, June 19th into chronological order just so you get the full lovely impact of all of this garbage.
1. First we start with hard drive failure. I’m okay with that, ironically. We have regular backups and although I’ll lose a few pictures, life will be okay. There’s a place in town that can do it in a week. I’ll use my Patient Husband’s computer until then. (Although I feel like I can’t think on his computer. I feel much more comfortable on my own. Go figure. Using the same programs.)
2. My children whined and complained muchly, but okay, I’ll deal with it.
3. The oldest two had their last day of school, so they got out early. I told them we had to leave for the library at 1:30 in order to be able to spend time there before taking Kiddo#3 to the dentist. My oldest wanted to go visit a friend, promised to be back by 1:30. At 2pm, I drove the other kids over to his friend’s house and threw him and his bicycle into the van so we could go to the library.
BTW, I did far worse than yelling at him. Instead, in front of his friends, I held him and cooed over him and cuddled him and said I was so worried, etc. Embarrassment is a far better tool than belligerence in some cases.
4. We get to the library and the kids bicker over the books and videos they want. When it’s time to leave, the entire library staff is behind the checkout desk, but none of them want to check us out. Kiddo#4 starts fussing; eventually I say, the heck with it, and I let him start howling in the library. If they wanted it quiet, they could have felt free to check us out at any time. Eventually a different employee emerges from nowhere and checks us out. We get in the car and then…
5. Kiddo#3 says, “Where’s my calculator?” That was his comfort object he was going to take to the dentist. I knew he’d taken it in with him, but I figured since he loved it, he would keep hold of it. Foolish mortal that I am. I asked where he’d left it, figuring Kiddo#1 could go run for it. He gave me answers like “somewhere,” “maybe I dropped it,” and pointing to the building. Finally I said we couldn’t wait any longer, and we left.
(In a possible bright spot to today, Kiddo#3 thought he remembered where it was. I prayed that whoever found it would turn it in to the librarian. After the dentist, I went back and sent K#1 inside to ask for it; instead he found it beside the computer where K#3 had been playing. It’s a good thing I didn’t go look myself, though, or it wouldn’t have been there.)
6. On the way to the dentist, I hit a bird.
7. We got there and waited 15 minutes past the appointment time just so the dentist could look at my kid’s mouth (a whole other post, and this is already long) to say that although three previous dentists swore he’d have to anesthetize my kid and do nasty things to him, he wants to do nothing. So I’ve driven 40 miles with 4 kids for nothing.
8. I get home to find that the romantic comedy series, after five months of dickering, got rejected.
9) Kiddo#4 has been screaming now for two hours, with little breaks when we can keep him calm.
10) You see those little dragons in my sidebar? I love them. They’re so cute. But to access the site, I need a password, and the password is no longer working. I don’t know why. I had it email me the reactivation code so I can reset the password, and my .mac account isn’t receiving it. I have no idea whose problem it is (it activated fine the first time) but it’s just the final blow in a stinky day. You know, I really wish SOMETHING would go right. And this is such a little thing.
I’m ready to scream. When I look back at my life and think of my best day, it won’t be this one. Nor will it be the second best day. “Third” isn’t looking all that possible either at this point.
Pray for me.
