A To Z: Songs To Write By

Hello, hello!  As you can probably tell by the title, I’m having a hard time coming up with topics again.  Suggestions are most welcome.  Anyway, I decided to do an A to Z list (by song title) of songs that (usually) end up on my writing playlists.  Granted, every story is different and requires different music, so this is in no way comprehensive.  In fact, my current WIP has been written with little to no music.  Sometimes, noise just gets in the way.  But, when I do use music, you can be pretty sure the following songs will be playing.

A: “All of Me” by John Legend.  In case I have to write one of those sappy love scenes.  You know the ones.

B: “Battlefield” by Blind Guardian.  Because power metal makes everything you write sound more epic.  Even when you’re sure it sucks.

C: “A Cruel Angel’s Thesis” by Yoko Takahashi.  “A” and “The” don’t count.  But this is the opening of Neon Genesis Evangelion, which reminds me of Shinji, who reminds me that it’s okay to write characters you know some people are going to hate.  Because I love to hate Shinji.

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She’s not wrong.

D: “Did You Hear the Rain?” by George Ezra.  It’s a new addition for my list, but it’s awesome and that’s enough of a reason.

E: “Eres Tu” by Kany Garcia.  Because sometimes you just need a bouncy song when you’re slogging through the tedious parts of stories.

F: “Float On” by Modest Mouse.  To remind me make everything worse before it gets better, but to have my characters take most of it in stride.

G: “Girl Anachronism” by the Dresden Dolls.  The song is great, but anachronisms are bad in stories.

H: “Hiai to Melancholy” by Matenrou Opera.  No special reason.  It’s just lovely.

I: “I Come with Knives” by IAMX.  For all those weird scenes that you sit there going “what the hell is wrong with this person?” as you write them.

J:  “Just the Way You Are” by Bruno Mars.  Because sometimes I have to remind myself that I originally liked these characters for some reason.

K: “Kraam” by Bodyslam.  A soothing Thai song is always appropriate.

L: “Love Me Dead” by Ludo.  Because sometimes I have to write about unhealthy and creepy relationships, but Ludo makes it fun.

M: “Muma -the Nightmare-” by Buck-Tick.  Because Buck-Tick, that’s why.

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What’s not to love about Buck-Tick?

N: “Neo Universe” by L’arc en Ciel.  Upbeat for all the happy moments, rare as they may be.  Plus, they have Hyde-san.

O: “Odd One” by Sick Puppies.  Because everyone needs moral support sometimes.  Even the voices in your head.

P: “Postcards” by James Blunt.  For the sappy scenes.  I swear.

Q: “Quitter” by Edgewater.  Sometimes rage is needed in stories.

R: “The Rest of My Life” by Less Than Jake.  To remind me to include internal conflict as well as all the fun stuff.

S: “Sympathia” by Versailles.  Just because I really like it.

T: “Thank God I’m Pretty” by Emilie Autumn.  To remind me that even the luckiest of my characters need to have issues.  Everything, even beauty, has a downside.

U: “Ugly” by the Exies.  Because sometimes I forget how to do teenage angst.  Songs like this help me remember.

V: “Vinushka” by Dir en grey.  Creepy, rage, dark, disturbing.  That’s the kind of stuff Diru is helpful with.  Also, beauty and depth.

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Plus, Dir en grey has Kyo-san.

 W: “Wolfen (Das Tier in Mir)” by E Nomine.  Epic music makes for epic stories.  Also, werewolves.

X: Xanadu by Moi dix Mois.  It’s actually the only song on my computer that starts with x.

Y: “You Can’t Be Missed if You Never Go Away” by Cobra Starship.  In other words, heed that call to adventure and leave me alone.

Z: “Zakuro” by Vaniru.  It’s another one of those that I just like.  I don’t know the words, so I can tune it out if I need to in order to write.

What are some of the songs that usually go into your writing or painting or whatever other creative outlets you pursue playlists?  Feel free to share some links in the comments or on my social media pages.  And don’t forget to suggest some blog topics or ask me some questions if you have any.

See ya!

Writing The Personal: Anything But That

Hello, hello!  I really had no idea what to write about today, so I went through a bunch of those list type blogs of “topics for writers,” which usually aren’t all that helpful.  One question that seems to show up on all the lists is “what’s the hardest thing you’ve ever written?”  You mean aside from all of these blog posts?  I don’t know.  I’ve never had a difficult time with any particular piece beyond the normal troubles a writer has.  I’m uncomfortable writing in the field of science fiction and pretty much anything with a political theme, but only because I’m not used to those genres.  There’s really only one thing I actively avoid in my every day writing: anything personal.  I mean yeah, there’s always going to be a part of me in everything I write, but I’ll probably never write a memoir or anything like that.  I’m boring.  Who would want to read about my life?

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That’s why I don’t write about myself.

I don’t care for slice of life books.  Or diaries.  Or journals.  Never have.  My life sucks enough, so I’d much rather escape into fantasy and the like when I’m both reading and writing.  Happy endings aren’t entirely necessary, but adventure and magic and awe are.  I’ve felt that way for as long as I can remember.  I’ve never really kept a diary or journal or anything like that for the same reasons.  I tried.  But it got really boring really fast.  Every diary devolved into a list of shows I watched or songs I heard.  I’m sure that type of writing is cathartic for some people, but I always preferred to avoid it.

Of course, there were times I was forced to write from a personal perspective.  You can’t take poetry writing as an undergrad without being “encouraged” (read: coerced) into writing about yourself.  I always felt dirty after it.  Especially if it was something I had to share with the class.  All the words sounded stupid as I said them out loud.  I either felt like I was bragging or complaining, both of which are things I try to avoid most of the time.  At least back then I avoided them.  I’m just an uncomfortable topic for me.

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Basically.

I still remember one assignment from my Introduction to Poetry Writing class that I ended up taking much more seriously than I ever intended to.  The writing prompt was along the lines of something as simple as “write a poem speaking to God” with the caveat that we had to take a cliché and make it our own.  We sat in a circle and somehow I ended up having to read last.  Everyone else wrote vague and super happy poems, then it came to me.  I didn’t even print out a copy because I didn’t want my mom to read it (she was snoopy like that).  I memorized it and offered to email it to the teacher who totally understood.  It was angry and personal and I have always thought of it when I thought of things that were difficult to write.  It’s part of the reason I started actively avoiding personal writing.

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Seemed appropriate.

What about you?  What’s the hardest thing for you to write about?  Is there a topic or genre that you actively avoid?

And, for anyone wondering about that poem, here it is:

Dear God

by Shawna Borman

I want to believe
That love is blind
And the world is kind
And that we all have time
To fall in love. 

But that’s a lie. 

I want to be loved
For who I am
Despite what I am
By someone who doesn’t give a damn
About the outside. 

But that’s not going to happen. 

I want to thank you
For saving me
From who I know I would be
At the price of not letting me be free
To make my own mistakes. 

But I can’t. 

Because…

I want to be beautiful.
I would be.
I could be.
I should be!
But this, this isn’t a matter of “shoulda, coulda, woulda.” 

I want to walk
With my head held high
And turn the eye
Of every guy
In the room towards me.

I want to be shallow.
I don’t care if they love me for what’s on the inside,
Because first they have to like me for what’s on the outside.
If the outside’s not for keeps,
No one’s going to want to dig too deep. 

And I want to hate you
For the way you made me.
But I don’t know your face,
Don’t know your name,
Hell, I don’t even know if you exist. 

But I need you to be a part of my life,
Because even though I blame you,
It’s still easier
To believe that I’m one of your creatures,
Than to know that I’m just a freak of nature.

How Role Playing Made Me A Better Writer

Howdy howdy!  A friend of mine from the Yahoo chatroom days has been talking about “the old days” (hard to believe it was ten years ago) when we stayed up all night talking and (usually) participating in multiple role playing scenarios.  Not MMORPGs or Magic or D&D or any of that.  We mostly stuck with the chatrooms and a few forums.  Stuff like that.  I admit I wasn’t a hardcore RPer.  I didn’t know all of the rules and different styles (single lines versus paragraphs and all that), but there were a few worlds I enjoyed hanging out in.  Anyway, I got to thinking about those days too and realized that they helped turn me into the writer I am today.  Here are the three main ways RPing helped make me a better writer:

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And better at faking my way through adulthood.

1.  The fact that it actually made me write.  I’ve never been very good about writing without deadlines, so I didn’t write much when I wasn’t in classes.  Rping with people forced me to exercise the creative parts of my brain on a regular basis even outside of school.  We built worlds and characters with words.  Then, we put those characters through hell.  And we usually invented a bunch of disgusting weapons to push everything even further.

2.  It taught me a lot about character and world building.  There was nothing worse than getting into a scenario and having a character “magically” beat the crap out of someone they should’ve been pulverized by.  No, your character did NOT spontaneously gain the ability to shoot fire from her palms with no lead up to it.  Take your beating like a man.  Then there were the people who randomly put hiding places in already established open areas with no cover.  Really?  The importance of adhering to established world rules and character attributes was not lost on me back then.

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An old character of mine.  Drawn by the aforementioned friend and colored by me.

 3.  I think the most important aspect of RPing is that it’s collaborative.  I’m still not big on group projects, but it taught me how to work with other creators to make a world that combined our ideas.  We had to work together or else everything fell apart due to petty bickering.  Or, if we managed to create a world, but we didn’t agree on things, wild inconsistencies would pop up in the stories.  We didn’t have to stifle our individual voices, we just had to blend them together.  It makes the whole idea of future collaborations a lot less repulsive.

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Like “Didn’t we just go over that?”

 So yeah, RPing really did help me become a better writer.  I keep telling my friend that, while I miss the chatroom days, I still kind of RP, I just do it solo now.  That’s what writing is: building worlds and characters, then putting them through hell.  A solo RP.

What about you?  Did you ever RP?  Do you still do it?  What would you say it taught you about writing?  Feel free to share your thoughts on the subject here or on one of my social media pages!

Until next time!

A Day Of Art

Hello, hello!  Last week, my friend Marika invited Dad and I to go to the Dallas Museum of Art with her and the munchkins.  I’ve lived roughly half an hour away from this museum all my life and can only think of two other times I’ve been there, so we decided to go with them.  We spent the afternoon wandering around some of the exhibits.  Dad kept getting too close to the fancy furniture, so the staff kept a wary eye on him.  We got huffed at for allowing one of the munchkins to touch a sculpture (to be fair, it was outside and looked like a fancy garbage can, so yeah).  We also got to talk Masterpieces and Stephen King with the guy in the gift shop.  All around, it was a nice day away from actually writing (and yes, I’ve been a good little writer with meeting my word count lately).  Sometimes, getting away from your own artform and exploring others is healthy.

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And sometimes, it’s just weird.  All pictures courtesy of Marika.

 I’ve always liked art anyway, so it’s not hard to imagine me finding plenty of inspiration in a museum.  But I admit that I was a little surprised by just how much inspiration I came away with.  For instance, the  Irving Penn exhibit (open until August 14) had a few images that are still stuck in my brain almost a week later.  One of them, which I don’t have a picture of, was an eye in a keyhole that had a keyhole reflected in the eye, kind of like a tunnel effect.  I don’t know why it’s stuck with me, or if it’ll cause a story to blossom, but it gave me something to think about.

Aside from inspiring the writer in me, I was also tempted to draw again.  There was quite a bit of abstract work that was interesting, as well as some things that looked like they were drawn by a three year old (not my cup of tea).  But, it was actually the furniture on the fourth floor that really made me go “Ooo, I could do that.”  Meaning that I could draw similar patterns, not that I could build anything.  I’ll leave the woodwork up to Dad.

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I could definitely draw a swirly design like this.

 Then, there were all the things that weren’t exactly inspiring, but they were simply beautiful.  Not everything has to make you think or make you want to create.  Sometimes, we just need some eye candy.  On the second floor near the room where you can see one of the restoration areas, there was the Wittgenstein Vitrine (a fancy display case the DMA restored).  It’s a really ornate box decorated with silver and pearls and opals and moonstones, etc.  But I wouldn’t even know what to display in it, let alone what to write or draw about it.  It does nothing for me except sit there and look pretty, and that’s okay.  We need that just as much as we need the inspirational things.

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A corner of the Vitrine.

 So, what is this post all about aside from me telling you about my day at the museum?  Nothing, really.  I’m just saying that it’s okay to take a day off once in a while to explore creative outlets outside of your norm.  Put down the pen or step away from the keyboard and go explore a museum or go to the symphony or whatever.  It might help you recharge, and you could have fun in the process.  I know I did.

A Look Inside On The Lamb

Hello again!  It’s time for another food review.  For a belated birthday dinner, Dad (his birthday was July 18th) and I went to On The Lamb in Deep Ellum last Thursday.  You can find their address (they’re next to the 7/11 on Elm St. for those who know the area) and a sample menu on the website linked above, but be aware that it is by no means up-to-date (their menu and hours have changed, so check their Facebook AND give them a call before you head that way).  Also, fair warning, it’s Deep Ellum, so good luck finding parking!

First, a reminder of my rating system:

MMMMM = Everything is magnificent!
MMMM = Great, but something is off.
MMM = Pretty good, but a couple of things could be better.
MM = The bad’s starting to outweigh the good.
M = Definitely more cons than pros.
… = I couldn’t find anything nice to say.

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The inside.  It’s tiny, so this is basically what you get.
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A better view of the bar.

 First up is accessibility.  Funny story, actually.  I messaged On The Lamb to find out if they required reservations (they don’t) and to make sure they were wheelchair accessible and one of the owners wrote me back to let me know they didn’t have an accessible table, but that they were working on it.  How does a place not have accessible tables, I wondered as I wrote back to express my sadness (answer: they only had the bar-top height tables).  A few days later, I received another message saying they had swapped one of the tall tables for a regular one, so I could come down any time.  Now, that’s service.  Ask and ye shall receive!  Otherwise, accessibility was decent.  The table is in a nook next to the door, so I didn’t have to fight my way down the aisle.  My chair is fairly large, and the table is positioned in a way that meant I had to sit on the corner (which I actually prefer), so I’m sure I was in the waitress’ way at times, but no one complained.  The height was great for me.  Getting in the door and around to the table is a clear shot with plenty of room to swing around.  So, despite the initial shock of no table that was taken care of swiftly, accessibility gets an A+ from me.

Service.  Our waitress, Sarah, was wonderful.  She immediately treated me like a human being instead of shying away or ignoring me, so she gets bonus points.  She was knowledgeable about the menu and answered all of our questions.  Don’t expect to understand the menu without some help.  It’s pretty cryptic if you don’t know what half the words mean.  Luckily, she knew.  Plus, she was attentive, but didn’t make us feel rushed at all.  She was good all around.

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I didn’t think of pictures until after the second course, so excuse the sipped on La Perla and half-eaten food.

 Before I get to the food, I want to recommend checking out the cocktails if you drink.  I had a La Perla (hibiscus infused tequila with passionfruit).  It was lovely.

Anyway, the menu is set up more like a high-end restaurant rather than a hole-in-the-wall place.  First, you have the “cured items,” which is a meat and cheese sampler.  You pick either three or five items and they come out with a few pieces of each.  Definitely shareable.  We got the biltong (South African style jerky, but it’s not tough to chew), duck ham, and the country salami (it’s made in-house, so we had to).  Plus, a couple of cheeses.  There were also a number of garnishments.  It was all absolutely delicious, except for the lamb pate they added.  A lot of people raved about the pate, so I’m sure if you like that kind of thing it’s great.  I wasn’t a fan.  My favorites from that plate were actually the biltong and the giant capers.

The “first” course is a small serving.  If they have the duck confit (my first course), I definitely recommend it.  The meat was tender and juicy and it was phenomenal.  Dad got the lamb boudin, which was also wonderful.  We ate it all, so I have no pictures to share with you.

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Lamb neck tagliatelle (left) and grilled merguez in its own little pot (right).

The “second” course consisted of lamb neck tagliatelle for me and grilled merguez (a grilled lamb sausage stew type thing) for dad.  Serving sizes were smaller than typical, but after the first two items, that’s okay.  Both dishes were delicious.  Dad’s had lentils and a duck egg in it, which was strange and delightful.  I admit that I preferred my own, though.  The lamb neck was tender and there was mint in it that just set the whole dish apart.  As someone who isn’t a huge fan of lamb (Dad loves it), I admit I was impressed by just about everything we had.

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Apricot.
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Mint chocolate stout with a bite taken out.

 Dessert was weird.  The menu was absolutely no help in deciphering what everything was and the waitress explained it as weird ’80’s artwork that you can eat (she wasn’t wrong).  So, just pick whatever sounds coolest to you and try it.  Dad got “Apricot” and I got the “Mint Chocolate Stout.”  There’re bits of cake and sorbet and fruits and a bunch of other stuff that I couldn’t name even if I tried.  Each component was good on its own, but I ended up mixing mine all together, which made it even better.

Last, is price.  It wasn’t cheap, but for the quality of the food, it wasn’t bad.  For Dad and I, it was about $120 without the tip.  Basically, you get Mansion on Turtle Creek quality with portions that are double (sometimes triple) the size for around half the price.  It’s worth the splurge.

My rating is:
MMMMM

Changing of the Seasons: A Flash Fiction Piece

Hello, hello!  I didn’t really have anything to blog about today, so someone suggested that I post a flash piece inspired by the pictures I post on Mondays (follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or G+ to see the posts).  I decided what the hell, I’ll try it.  I picked a picture and wrote the following piece.  It’s a first draft, unedited, so keep that in mind.  I will admit that I like the idea, but I’m not sure that flash is the right format for it.  Maybe a short story?  Feel free to offer constructive criticism and feedback.  What format do you think would work best?  Advice.  Or just a quick “it sucks/rocks” works too.

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Photographer: Peter Brownz Braunschmid

Changing of the Seasons

Autumn leaves swirl and twirl on a breeze tinted with the scent of blood. The lifeline of thousands seeps through the soil, bathing and nourishing me as it beckons for my awakening. They pray to me, the mothers and daughters and sisters of those lost at war. Why me? Because only a woman will understand their suffering. The men pray to Him for victory, for the ability to rule, no matter the cost. But the women, they simply ask for peace. They don’t realize how peace is achieved, they don’t know what they’re truly asking for. Still, I will soon be able to grant their wish.

Once every five thousand years, as the ground becomes inundated with spilt blood, I will inevitably rise from the roots of the Mother Tree as Fall passes into Winter. The changing of the seasons allows my release, for I cannot be freed while the Mother Tree lives. Their blood slowly poisons her until she can no longer survive the first freeze. I bide my time, soaking in the nutrients they provide while the tendrils that bind my wrists slowly weaken, becoming as brittle as the dead leaves clinging to the Mother Tree’s branches.

The days pass as if each second has morphed into an hour, but it is almost time for me to rise. To bring peace back to this chaotic world. Their cries grow ever stronger. Peace. Victory. Whichever will put an end to the suffering.

Fear not, my little loves. A new day is coming. I have heard you.

Finally, a twist of the wrist shatters my shackles. Fingers pale as sun-bleached bone are free to break through the slush of soil and blood and ice crystals. The air up here is thick with a metallic, rotten scent. The frigid temperatures haven’t had time to wash away the aroma of death. It’s invigorating. Mixed with the pleas for help, some might call it downright orgasmic.

I know what I have to do.

Near the Mother Tree is a spring. I must bottle the icy water as the full moon strikes it. I will take this gift to the children of the nearest town. Once they drink of it, a deep sleep will overcome and protect them. Then, I will feed. First, the women, unprotected in the fields and the shops. The children unaffected by the elixir will come next. Lastly, those on the battlefield. I will rid the entire world of the agony perpetrated by humanity.

Once the world has been purged of this plague, I will return to the slumbering children. They will awaken and I will raise them as my own. I will teach them compassion and respect and compromise. Peace and love will reign for many years to come.

And when they no longer need my assistance to survive, I will dig my toes deep into the ground on a pleasant Spring evening on the edge of town, where I will transform into the Mother Tree. My branches will reach out to protect my children even as future generations forget my teachings. As they inevitably devolve into a world of bloodshed once again. All the while, the mothers and sisters and daughters will pray for peace, which my next incarnation, growing among my roots, will provide.

Mini-Update on the Previous Post

I just wanted to update everyone who was wondering what happened with the pulmonologist (see the previous post, please).  We ended up pushing the appointment back until August, so that the insurance people have a chance to work things out on their end.  BUT, one of the respiratory therapists that I have known basically forever informed Dad that my primary care physician can sign the paperwork for me to keep my second vent.  Yay!  That means all of this was definitely unnecessary stress.  Hopefully, everything is on its way to being straightened out.  Wish us luck and send good vibes!

How Not To Treat Your Patients And Acceptable Alternatives

Hello, hello!  Today’s post will be devoted to the cripple side of life, rather than writing or food (and it’s kind of a rant).  As many of you know, at best, I dislike doctors and, at worst, I despise them.  I don’t like people who touch/grab/pull at me without asking FIRST and listening when I explain my limitations (doctors are great at the grabbing, but not so much with the listening).  My anxiety levels are usually already maxed out before I even enter the building due to other fears mingling with the whole “it’s a doctor’s appointment” thing.  Still, if a doctor says they want to see me, I make an appointment.  I’ve never missed an appointment without a legitimate reason and, if something happens that I have to cancel, I do so as early as possible.  Even though I don’t particularly like doctors, I’m not difficult to get along with as long as space boundaries are respected and they make their wishes known.  Communication is key here.

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This applies even if I can’t physically throat punch you.  Rest assured, I am visualizing it.

 So, here are some things that I do NOT respond to well as a patient (for my pulmonologist, but any doctor really):

1. Threatening to take away one of my machines.  He didn’t threaten this directly, but he refuses to sign the paperwork okaying my second ventilator unless I come see him.  We (my dad and I) have received no phone calls or emails or anything in the last year and more than a half (since my last appointment) saying this doctor wanted me to come in for a check up or else we would have complied.  Instead, we got a call from the company supplying my vents that said they are going to take one away if the doctor won’t sign the paperwork.  Does he really think I’ve gotten better since my last appointment?  No.  That’s not how this disease works.

2. Being forced to make a rushed appointment when it’s not technically necessary.  Which is exactly what the above situation called for.  I’ve only seen this doctor twice before, but both times he was booked months out, so a quick appointment isn’t exactly easy.  Luckily, he had an opening for tomorrow (today? Wednesday, July 13th).

3. Being informed two days before my appointment that the hospital doesn’t accept my insurance.  So, my options become a) cancel the appointment and risk losing one of my vents or b) paying $570 out of pocket.  This is the ultimatum amidst a clusterfuck (pardon my language) of people trying to figure out if they can get my insurance to work with two days notice.  I’m just glad I have Dad to field the phone calls (sorry I’m a PITA, or at least the reason you have to deal with this crap).  It’s unnecessary stress that will most likely end up with us out $570.  We’ll find out tomorrow (today?).  If the appointment isn’t pushed back.  We won’t know what’s going on until some time in the morning (just hours before the appointment).  Yeah.  Great.

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Some acceptable alternatives to these things:

1. Call/email/text/send a carrier pigeon to schedule an appointment BEFORE you decide I don’t need a machine.  I, like many people, don’t even think about doctors unless I’m sick/in immense pain/dying.  And 90% of the time, I don’t even go then.  If you want to see me, tell me.  It’s that easy.

2. Give me plenty of notice.  Hell, I will gladly make (and keep) an appointment for a year out if you want to make it as I leave the appointment we just had.  If you don’t want to do that, see the first item of this list.  Preferably, give me a month or two notice in case we run across any issues like you not accepting my insurance, so we have time to work it out.

3. Take my insurance information earlier, so we can work out any wrinkles without the pressure of an impending appointment.  Follow the first two steps, and this one will be no problem.  It’ll also give us time to explore our other options (whether that be insurance or doctors or whatever).

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Because awkward Sheldon makes me smile.

 In other words, use common sense and common courtesy.  I don’t know why these things are called ‘common’ when they’re anything but.  Hopefully, my appointment tomorrow (today?) won’t be as much of a disaster as I’m imagining.  Many people involved in this debacle have been very nice and understanding.  Some have not.  Either way, Dad and I have been stressing about all of this, so someone (knowing Dad, probably a lot of someones) is going to get an earful.  If we go.  Like I said, still waiting on the green light.

Sorry for the rant!  I know my problems don’t compare to what’s happening in the rest of the world, but they bug me nonetheless.  Thanks for listening/reading.  Back to the regularly scheduled randomness next week.  Peace out.

An Odd Interview Question

Hello again!  Happy July!  I hope my fellow Americans had a safe and wonderful Independence Day.  I also hope all of my Canadian friends did the same on Canada Day.  Anyway, about a week ago, I was searching through some of my old files from my Eastfield (community college) days looking for a particular poem when I ran across a list of interview questions I had to create for one of my classes.  One of those questions brought back some memories.  The question was “If you could transform into any creature (real, mythical, extinct, or otherwise), what would it be and why?”  For some reason, it always seemed to make whoever I asked stop and really think hard.  Even the teacher remarked that it was an odd and creative question.  Which was weird, because it’s the type of thing that I think about all the time.  Maybe it was because I didn’t set up any rules (no time limit, no information on whether the change is permanent, etc.).  I left everything up to the person being asked.  Or maybe I’m just weird.  But I thought I’d take the chance to answer the question myself, since I never have before.

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Or maybe I just spend too much time on the Interwebz.  Though, my question is broader and approximately 10 years old, so yeah.

So, if I could transform into any creature (real, mythical, extinct, or otherwise), what would it be and why?  That one has always been a no-brainer for me.  Of course, I would be a mermaid.  The “why” is a little more complicated.  I mean, aside from the fact that they’re awesome and Ariel was nuts to give up her fins for a man, what other reasons do I need?  Fine, we can get personal I guess.

First, and contrary to popular opinion, I actually love water.  I miss being able to go swimming immensely, not that I could actually swim, it was more of a vertical doggie paddle.  But yeah, I liked being in water because it gave me much more control over my body (I could walk, and move my arms, and stretch beyond my comfort zone without having to worry about someone assisting me and pushing me too far/breaking something, etc.).  So, the attraction to water led to an early love of mermaids.  Then came the whole gills versus lungs thing.  My lungs suck, so gills became even more attractive as I got older.  But I swear my attraction to mermaids is mostly because they are magical and gorgeous and so fecking cool.

dragonfly
One of Amy Brown’s mermaids.

It’s not like I want to be a mermaid all the time, though.  So, the power to switch back and forth would be a must.  At least in the beginning.  Who knows, I might enjoy exploring the sea so much that I eventually never want to come back.  Or I might hate it.  Either way, I want the option.  Maybe I’d have a limited number of swaps (like maybe five or something; always an odd number so I’d be forced to choose human on the fourth or whatever try, but always have that lingering option to go mermaid forever) to make things more exciting.  I should probably write about mermaids more often.  Story idea: cripple turns into mermaid.  Must eventually choose between life on land or at sea.  Adventures and peril abound.  I could totally write that.

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Art by NanFe.  Plus, mermaids can be super creepy!

What about you?  What creature would you choose?  Is it a no-brainer or do you have to think about it?  And yes, staying human is an option as long as you explain your reasoning.  It doesn’t have to be a deep, thoughtful reason either.  Go with your gut!

See you next week!

A Look Inside Zenna

Hi again!  I haven’t done a restaurant review in quite a while, so I figured it was about time.  Dad and I tried Zenna, a relatively new Thai and Japanese restaurant in Mesquite (I have no experience with the other locations, just to be clear), again on Sunday.  We tried it once before when it first opened and the food wasn’t that good, but we usually give places a second chance unless something drastically bad happens, so here are my thoughts on our second try.  Unfortunately, I didn’t think to take any pictures, so you’ll have to deal with the couple I borrowed from their Yelp page.

A reminder of my rating system:

MMMMM = Everything is magnificent!
MMMM = Great, but something is off.
MMM = Pretty good, but a couple of things could be better.
MM = The bad’s starting to outweigh the good.
M = Definitely more cons than pros.
… = I couldn’t find anything nice to say.

o
The front.  It’s where Bikini’s used to be over by Kaze’s and Chili’s for those familiar with Mesquite.

 As usual, I’ll start with accessibility.  Other than the semi-tight squeeze to get out of the way so Dad could open the second set of doors (not unusual at all around here, thus the norm), it’s pretty easy to manuever around this place.  Where there are steps, there’s also a ramp.  They have some half-booths available so I could sit on the side with chairs and Dad could’ve had a choice, but we sat at a regular table instead.  Table height was perfect for me, but I did run into the central table leg.  It wasn’t a major inconvenience, though.  So, A+ for accessibility.

Service.  The waiter was pretty good.  He was a little iffy when it came to whether or not he thought he should talk to me, but after a couple of reminders that I could indeed order for myself, he seemed to get more comfortable.  He was good about not rushing things and brought everything we asked for in a timely manner.  Dad did have to ask for a refill on his seltzer, but that’s no big deal since the waiter was always nearby and quick to respond.  He did forget to ask us about the spice level we wanted, but after our first experience (my level two came out more like a level four), we were fine with adding the chili paste ourselves.

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The menu.

 And, of course, we must discuss the food.  This was where things went wrong on our first visit.  Everything was either bland or burn-your-taste-buds spicy.  This trip was much better.  We had the sashimi seaweed salad (the fish tasted fresh and the seaweed was weirdly delicious) and basil chicken wraps (definitely recommend) to start.  We also shared a bowl of Tom-Kah Kai.  This is one of those things that we have at every Thai place we go to and basically judge everything else based on our experience with this soup.  Some places have amazing Tom-Kah and some don’t.  We don’t usually go back to the ones without it.  Zenna’s Tom-Kah Kai is really good.  It’s not my absolute favorite, but it’s close to home and satisfying.

For entrees, Dad had the combination Sweet Basil and I had the chicken Pad See-Eew.  Both dishes were yummy and had really nice flavors.  Dad actually said his needed more vegetables.  MORE.  The carnivore that is my dad wanted more veggies.  That’s saying a lot.  Other than that, we enjoyed our meals both that night and the next morning with poached eggs on top.  We also split a Midnight Roll (smoked eel, cucumber, avacado, salmon, and some other stuff), which wasn’t bad, but if I want sushi and the like, I’d rather go a few restaurants over to a place called Kaze’s.

Dessert… Dad got the sticky rice with mango and I had the black rice with coconut custard.  Both were good in their own right, but not my favorite.  I’m used to the black rice being more of a pudding than this was, but otherwise it was tasty and I have nothing to really complain about.  It was simply not what I was expecting.

Lastly, the price.  It actually wasn’t too bad considering portion sizes.  Dad and I have easily dropped $100 on that amount of food.  This was about $70 (pre-tip.  Always remember to tip your servers.).  Not bad at all.

So, overall I was happy with this experience.  We’ll go back.  There are better Thai places, but they’re all a half-hour or so drive for us.  It’s nice to have a place ten minutes down the road.  My official rating:

MMMM