Before beginning the business of blogging, there are a few matters of business I need to discuss.
1) I apologize for the lateness of this blog, but before you begin stoning me, allow me to remind you that I was ahead of the game after posting several blogs back to back- that should have bought me some time, right? Okay, maybe not as much time as I took, but still, life got a little busy for a minute.
2) The truth is, aside from life in general, I also got a little side-tracked with my latest book- which I was obsessed with as it was coming to me faster than I could type- that kind of thing rarely ever happens and you don't mess with writing mojo- when you got it, run with it. The book is already finished and entering the editing process- woohoo!! And a heads up for my fans- should be published within the next month or so- and -drum roll please- will be Free!! (Does that unruffle any of your feathers?) It was so much fun to write (especially after such a heavy venture as The Dradon Project) and is the complete antithesis of that book. It's fun and funny, snarky and sarcastic- everything I enjoy in a book!! I will keep you updated as to its release date.
3) (I'm almost done I promise.) I have begun receiving many reviews on my book and short stories (especially on B&N), and they have been good (thank you God!!). Average of three stars- naturally I would love more, but as some of the same folks have lambasted other writers in their reviews- I will take the stars and run with them. (Very far, and very fast.) My only objection to any critiques is when a) I am criticized for the page number of a book- the number is determined ONLY by the font size in which you download the book and therefore I have no control over it- in other words: if you can see a gnat on a bird's tail feathers five miles away, you're font size is likely to be tiny and therefore the number of pages is going to be 25; and if you are blind as a bat (like me) and your font size looks as if you are reading a pre-school story book, you're gonna end up with 100 pages. That's how it works. And b) if you are going to take the time to criticize my work, please use a spell check. There are no z's in the word 'surprise.'
4) And finally, all of my published books and short stories are now available in the Apple Store, B&N, and several other e-book venues. Amazon is the only major vendor who still hasn't gotten on board- for some unknown reason? Anyone with a Kindle is advised to go straight to Smashwords for the download.
Okay, onto the business of blogging!
Deck the halls with bags and bookses, fa la la lala, lala la la. Don't give teacher dirty lookses, fa la la lala, lala la la! I feel compelled to begin the blog in this manner because there are two subjects I wish to discuss- college and choir.
Regarding college- 'tis the season. Back to school fever and all that. For most students, school started within the last week or so. And it's not hard to tell when I take a gander at FB. A number of my FB pals are college students and with school having just begun, the complaints about homework have blossomed like weeds in my garden- innumerably. My heart goes out to them, it truly, truly does. I am not a person without pity, I can sympathize, but I do not wish to empathize. However, they insist upon sharing, too much, and feel the need to post not just comments, but actual examples, of some of their homework. Personally, I think, that's cruel and unusual punishment for a little old bystander like me. One example seen yesterday:
8{[3(m-4)+18]-[3(5m-2)+5]}=
(Simplify your answer.)
Now, I can think of a thousand and one ways to simplify that answer, but none that would net me a passing grade. The first that comes to mind is a good old-fashioned eraser- blank paper is far simpler than paper decorated with all those mathematical thing-a-ma-doozies. Just saying. Then there's the ever-popular burning your math book method, though with today's homework being all computerized this would not be an economical alternative. Or, the change the math equation into an entirely different one technique- such as: 1+1=. You can't get any more simplified than that. Of course, there's the less popular, brain-melting- actually do it the right darn way option. I never recommend that.
You there! The smarty-pants that is even now working out this mathematical equation in order to solve the problem and leave the answer in my comments box- get off my blog! I won't hold for any mathematical hi-jinks around here- be gone ye hideous beastie!
My point is- I am so very sorry that your brain is turning inside out with all this gibberish- but why would you wish to liquefy mine? What have I ever done to you? I have complained before about the FB posts intended to save the world- because everyone knows if you just repost that picture little Suzie will get the artificial leg she's always needed and Johnny's cancer will clear up overnight. I have trudged through screens and screens of politics, religion and countless cute kitty pictures. But this- this horror! This has to be stopped! It's a call to arms folks- who's with me?! Deter Unnecessary Number Calculations Everywhere!!! (For those of you who excel more at the mathematical arts than the language arts, allow me to just point out that the acronym here is DUNCE…)
Okay, rant over, but holding the rights to revisit it in the future.
The reason so many of my FB friends are college students, is that (as I have mentioned at least once in this blog), my children talked me into joining the community choir that they are members of. (It is a decision that they may have already come to regret, but bless their pea-pickin' hearts, if this is true, they have yet to express the sentiment.)
In all honesty, it didn't take much arm twisting. I thoroughly enjoy choir, for any number of reasons. The first- and most obvious- I love to sing. I have spent my entire life singing- at the top of my lungs, gleefully, joyfully, and with as much gusto and verve as any one human being can muster. Enthusiasm, however, should not be confused with talent. Above all else, we must remember that. I am in no danger of becoming the next American Idol, or The Voice. More along the lines of American I-don't and The Vice…
I am not what you could call pitch-perfect. I am pitch-inconsistent. But I have no shame, and so, I still sing with gusto. Surrounded, as I am, by so much talent, you would think that I would feel some shame, but I do not. I admire the talent of so many people in the choir; I sometimes even envy their talent, but I am rarely troubled that I do not share their talent. I do my best, following along reading the music (another talent which I do not possess), looking like a five year old tackling her first I Can Read book, with my fingertip underscoring each and every note. Oftentimes I have to ask my son or someone else to translate some musical squiggle- each and every one of which have not only a proper name but- surprise! Who knew?- a purpose. So far, luckily, everyone has been generous with me, taking the time to explain it all. It's sort of the algebra of music, if you will. At least to me.
Aside from their talent, these people are fun! More often than not, after choir, a good portion of the choir members will meet for a late dinner somewhere and madness ensues. Well, not necessarily madness, but it usually is a good time.
I have a tendency towards attention deficit- shiny penny- did I turn off the stove?- I wonder what we're doing tomorrow- oooohhh salsa!- disorder. For that reason, I often find it difficult to stay focused on the conversation that is actually being directed at me, and my brain- left to its own devices- starts to wander, and before long my ears follow. Tidbits of conversations come to me, usually at the worst (or best, depending on how you look at it) possible moments. Last night was no different.
Among other things, I was privy to a gummy worm conversation (that was too disturbing to repeat here- hey- it's not that kind of blog!), kleptomaniacal sopranos (they weren't really, but rumor has it that they were accused of stealing chairs- who steals chairs??- which of course had me envisioning a bunch of Brünnhilde's with folding chairs rammed into their bulging cleavages), which brings me to the next conversation. What I heard was- 'Seriously! I can only fit four fingers from my collar bone to my cleavage.' If that sentence doesn't perk up your ears, nothing ever will. This came from our resident Brünnhilde, a girl whose range extends from tenor to first soprano- with ease. Yeah, I'm a little envious. I myself am a tenor, and sometimes I find myself stretching to keep up with my fellow tenors, but once I hit alto, I am toast about mid-range. Her kind of range is impressive. Freaky. Weird. She's not human. Anyway, for the sake of the conversation, I shall call her, B.
Naturally, I interjected myself into the conversation (uninvited, as I always do- it's part of my charm).
Me: You what?!
B: Look, (she demonstrates, turning her hand sideways and laying it on her chest, just beneath her clavicle) I can only fit four fingers between my collar bone and my cleavage.
Me: And this is bad how? Just wait, time will catch up with you. At my age, if not assisted by a well-supporting bra, you can lay about fourteen hands between them. I step out of the shower and see myself in the mirror and think, 'Who let Yzma in here?' (That's a reference from my all time favorite Disney movie, The Emperor's New Groove. The character Yzma's bosom is roughly in the same vicinity as her waist- apparently the Inca's didn't invent Maiden Form.)
B: I just have this weird stature where everything on my body is placed unnaturally close together. Look at my face; my eyes, nose and mouth are really close together too. (Again she used her hand for measurement, but honestly, I was so baffled that I can't remember the measurement for that one- it was something to do with a circle- like maybe her whole face fit in the circle created by her hands- I don't know. I mean, honestly, who among us has measured their body parts with their fingers- don't get dirty on me- that's not what I mean.)
B: And look- I only have a three-finger forehead! (This time she measured the distance from her hairline to her eyebrows.)
It didn't take long for us all to degenerate into the world of measuring our cleavages and faces and foreheads with our fingers. (My son, who is prematurely balding the poor guy- he got it from my side of the family- won the forehead competition hands down- no pun intended- but it did make me giggle.)
As one choir member pointed out- we were actually entertaining ourselves by dissecting our bodies- and it must have looked bizarre to anyone in the restaurant that could see us. We all looked like we were striking poses Madonna had never considered. It was like a Friends episode gone wrong.
And finger-measuring? Really? This is the accuracy we get from college students who can simplify 8{[3(m-4)+18]-[3(5m-2)+5]}=?
First day of school, and already their brains have melted…
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