The Scribble Pad
The mental meanderings of a slightly loose screw.
Saturday January 30 - The day of the earthquake.
Thought I'd share this: footage taken in Haiti on the day of the earthquake. Chilling.
le jour du seisme (Day of the eathquake) from Ciné Institute on Vimeo.
Friday January 29 - Pity the dragon
"Came a dragon dark and fearsome/ In the days of long ago/ Came a knight in shining armour/ Drew his sword and laid him low.
Hence throughout heroic ages/ Men have raised the cry/ Face the foe St. George forever/ On to victory!"
Those are the words of my school song, my school being St. George's College in Barataria. And as much as those words still shiver me timbers, I have always wondered: What the hell's wrong with dragons? Why are people always trying to kill them?
It's not fair. There they are, going about their business, pillaging towns and setting houses on fire, stealing off virgins...okay, so some dragons have it coming. But I hate the idea of such magnificent creatures being bumped off just so some knight can look manly and possibly bust some chick's drawers.
Don't ya think?
Wednesday January 27 - David Rudder's legacy
This post is for my foreign friends who've never had the opportunity to hear Haiti, I'm Sorry by the legendary David Rudder.
The whole song is a cry of anguish, but the first few lines are sheer poetry:
"Toussaint was a mighty man
And to make matters worse he was black
Black and back in the days when black men knew
Their place was in the back."
Listen and weep.
Sunday January 24 - Judging RITA
Just got my judging package for the RITA, in the contemporary category. Very excited at the opportunity to see what so many other top-class authors are doing.
I also get 9 more books to add to my 50-book challenge, but it's confidential, so I can't comment directly on them.
I'll still keep you abreast of my progress, though!
Wednesday January 20 - January birthday book giveaway
January people are warm, bright, smart, and damn fantastic. I should know: I'm one of them. In celebration of our total awesomeness, I'm giving away two of my romance novels (winner's choice) this month.
If you've got a birthday this month or would like to give a gift of romance to another Januarian, just send me an email or note with your name, the other person's name and birth date (don't care about the year) and a way for me to contact you. (No spam, I promise!)
I'll draw two names on the 1st of February. Are you in?
Monday January 18 - A fourth sexual orientation?
You know, sometimes when I'm reading a particularly hot romance, or watching young people cavort in the throes of sexual ecstasy on one of those endless, mindless "reality" programmes like the Real World or whatever the hell they're calling it now, and all I can feel is, eh, I'd rather be eating ice cream.
No sign of even a hint of prurient sexual interest. Not a zip, zap, or zing. I feel I should be disturbed by this. It's not exactly what you'd expect for a romance writer. Most people think we hump like bunnies.
Am I losing my mojo? Am I so far over the hill that I can't even drum up the energy to get excited by what I read?
Maybe it does have a little to do with age. I watch those teens bumping and grinding on some spring break show, and I think, been there, done that. Sooo over it. And it's not that I've suddenly become neuter, it's just that it takes other things to turn me on. More cerebral stimulation; a situation, a story, good conflict, good plot. Give that to me and, yeah! I'm ready to go.
But while we're on the subject, have a look at this article. It suggests that there may be a fourth sexual orientation (after hetero sexual, homosexual, and bisexual, I guess.) And that's asexual. Yep, people born without sexual interest, none whatsoever, and who, furthermore, don't even seem to mind.
Have a look. What do you think?
Friday January 15 - A murderous God?
Yesterday my son came home from school and announce that a teacher had told them during Worship that God had killed all those people in Haiti because they didn't pray hard enough.
It was like a kick in the head. I gently told him that I thought his teacher had made a mistake, because God doesn't kill people for being bad, but of course, he wouldn't listen. A delicate situation, to be sure. How do you convince a child that his teacher is wrong, without taking away her authority?
But the bigger question is, why do people insist on telling children such horrible, stupid stories? I remember being about 10, and suffering from a serious asthma attack, when the woman who was taking care of me told me God gave me asthma because I was bad.
Why, why, why? Do we really need an image of a hateful, mean, vengeful, spiteful God in order to feel secure? Good about ourselves? Better than other people? If God slays hundreds of thousands by means of an earthquake, but lets us escape unscathed, that means he must love us better than them, right? Right?
And why pass this on to the children? Why do children need to have such ugly images in their heads? Wouldn't they thrive better under the idea of a loving, faithful and supportive God? And if God is the image of their father, wouldn't it be better for them to know they have a father who loves them and is always there for them?
Isn't it time the children's bedtime story of God-as-bogeyman comes to an end?
Friday
January 8 - Melting away
Is there any cool, sensitive, politically correct, feminist way to celebrate the fact that you've dropped almost 10 pounds and gone from a size 8 to a size 6 in, like a month?
Probably not. I'm guessing I can't jump up and down and roll my now-skinny ass and shout at my formerly fat self..."In - your - face!"
Yeah, for those of you who didn't know me when I was a teenager, let's just say I was sort of....um...chunky. Yeah, that's me up there, at my, what, 17th birthday? Cutting my Hollie Hobbie cake with my little cousin. Yeah, you know how it was. And then I got older, discovered that food was an addiction, and learned how to manage it. And the weight rolled off.
I try to be cool about it, like it ain't no big thing, but I have to admit I get a little thrill every time I see my newly scrawny ass in a reflection. Like all mothers, mine is horrified. Surely I must be sick! Like all old school friends (who knew me when I was fat), mine are stunned. But for me, walking into a clothing store and not feeling like I'm about to throw up is just priceless.
And the best part is, I'm not even on a diet. I just cut down on the carbs (except for chocolate, which is a holy sacrament to me) and it all melted away.
Sweet!
Wednesday January 6 - Powerless
I was asking myself yesterday how come Christmas was over and yet I was still in my month-long foul bah-humbug mood: why is it that I hate Christmas so much? I've got nothing against family, I love to watch the kids have a good time, so what was it?
And as I sat there with a bag of ice on my swollen, sprained ankle (long story - don't ask) unable to move around, practically nailed to my chair, I realised it'd because I feel so powerless.
In December, there's so much that goes on that I can't prevent, sidestep or delay. The traffic. The noise. The social obligations (smiling and chatting with people you'd otherwise not even choose to hang with, much less have them kiss you on the cheek, you know what I mean.) The crowds in the supermarkets that are so daunting you'd rather go without milk than put up with them. The blaring of loud Parang music on the radio, (check it out here) the endless cheer that everyone assumes you just must be feeling, after all, it's Christmas, dammit, you are required by law to be ecstatic!
Missing family members you've lost.
It's like looking up a hill, and watching a wall of floodwater bearing down on you... and you know you can't outrun it. Now that it's over, it's like air being slowly let out of a balloon. A sweet release, and maybe my life can get back to normal again. Ah, January!
