What Are You Going To Do?

This has happened at least six times in the last few months. 

I understand there is a certain type of mind that is kind of like a blender, that stuff just keeps spinning around and if you lift the cover a little, something just sort of flies out and sticks, to the wall, to the table, to your face, to your notebook, to your COMPUTER SCREEN.  I kind of have that sort of mind.  And I know I will read stuff and think, "Oh, I wrote a poem like that when I was 29", and it haunts me for awhile that maybe I read that poem by someone else when I was sixteen and it was just whirling around in there and just happened to fly out at a particular time.

But.   When, TWO DAYS after I post a blog about something that happened that was totally serendipitous, and I introduce the article with a cut and paste definition, complete with all citations, of the history and the definition of the word, I come across a blog, using almost the identical words, only illustrating that a different set of their own personal circumstances seemed, in fact, serendipitous, I think the person should at least say, "I was scrolling blogs and came across this blog, by VIRGINIA LLORCA, and she was talking about serendipity and it made me think as follows. "

There is nothing that can be done about it.  But when I realize I got the idea somewhere, I ALWAYS  say I saw this in the paper or so and so was blogging about this.  I think that keeps stuff polite and in the sunshine and it creeps me out that the Supreme Court has to rule on intellectual property.  But, if a person doesn't feel that upright and good citizen, honorable writer, non Cassie Edwards -ish about the subject, well then let them lay in their beds at night thinking that I am pond scum and no one will ever know they lifted it from my sparkling works, or used my stunning example as a platform.  That's okay with me.  I lay in bed at night and think about what Maisie says to Barney when he is standing there in the kitchen in his blue plaid boxers kissing her and the toddlers are smearing cheerios all over the room.

And I didn't get that idea from some else's blog, but someone with a contract with a major publisher will probably have it on the shelf in six months. 

And, a little motherly advice:   don't all the people in the blogging world KNOW that the tagging process GROUPS blogs, and, sooner rather than later, people in the field you are planting,  or hoeing, or trampling, or reaping, are gonna see the crop?  Ah, well.  In pioneer days, settling the ole West, rustlers figured out how to alter cattle brands.  So, who is stupid?

Quote of the Day, of a Lifetime Maybe. . .

If not now, then when?

If not me, then who?



From some dude on Ted.  Thank you.

Panic

I surf blogs, as I have mentioned before, and many of them have the niftiest templates.  I consider that stuff way too techy for me, but today I had to fiddle around.  There are so many that offer all these free templates.  I wonder why.  If you like it you are not going to go back and pay for another are you? 

So I found one that seem just creepy and personal enough for me, liking to make statements as I do, but not wanting to be accused of trying to make a statement.  Caged, getting free, kind of gothic, kind of worn around the edges.  Anyway, it showed up all cattywhompus and I couldn't figure out how to adjust it, and then I tried to get rid of it, and was able to, but no, it was still there.  I totally feared that I would have to start over and develop a whole new site, and was worried if I could transfer my archive and it dawned on me how important these words, or this expressing, is to me. 

Finally, or at least at this moment, I think it is showing up pretty even.  I had a lot of hits today tho, and I am sure they think I have flipped.  No.  I am sure anyone that has visited here at least once already knows that. And that is probably why they keep coming back.

Anyway, I mowed the lawn yesterday, and it is rather a large lawn if you go back to the creek, which you are not supposed to because that area is supposed to be available for the proper native wetland plants to thrive and do their soaking up the water thing, but the neighbors on both sides mow to the creek, so I do not want to rock that boat, being neighbor to this family being burden enough,  and I love the endless yard kind of effect.  So do the deer and the coyotes, and the foxes. But what I am getting at is this nerve thing going on in my hand that feels like you forgot to use the pot holder when you took the cookie sheet out of the oven, but only in this very localized place between two fingers, and Fran gave me two Doctor Layton games for my birthday, so I have been on DS way too much lately, and my hand hurts like a son of a bitch, so I feel like currently God does not want me to write.  He also does not want me to pick anything up off the floor as He always makes it fall at least once and  then makes me do it again.  Aging is such pain.  Literally.

I need back story for my non-dystopian, post-apocalyptic novel.  Any suggestions?  I am on the verge here.  I promise!  It is bubbling up almost to the edge.  I know it.  And I feel that what I do will be the right thing for me to do.  That is what I should have been telling myself all along.  I don't have to be who people think I am anymore.  Maybe trying to cut back on those meds was not such a great idea.

So how do  y'all feel about the single space after the period rule change thing?  I don't really care one way or the other, but the two space thing is very deeply engrained.  Think for just a moment on this.  If I could get used to doing only one space after  the period, how much wear and tear would I be saving on that fucking nerve in my finger?