What Makes Me Different from Everyone Else

This is from that list that Tambo pointed me to: http://biggirlblue.blogspot.com/2010/11/30-days-of-me.html

Normally, being the science type, I'd say my DNA.  But I've got this identical twin, so that's out.  Not that we're exactly the same.  She's shy.  I'm… not.  She doesn't cook.  I do.  And our fingerprints are different.  Even though fingerprints have a basis in genetics, how they're expressed/ formed is different for every individual.

But being a twin meant that we were often lumped together.  My form of rebellion, growing up, was pushing to be an individual.  So, everything that I do has some basis in that.  I want to be different from everyone else.

For example: I created my own undergraduate major (Science Communication).  I have a Masters in Museum Education.  I do a LOT of crafts and have a lot of hobbies.

I consider myself a Creative.  If I need a dish towel, I'll crochet it.  If I want pizza, I'll make it.  I make most of the gifts I give, if I can.  If I can't, I do *something* creative with it.  My sister tells me that it's my gifts her kids pull out on a rainy day.

So that's what makes me different from everyone else.  I look to create the most original thing.  Even me.

What makes you unique?

Merry Christmas!

My favorite Song

My favorite song would have to be Bridge Over Troubled Water, by Simon and Garfunkel.  Hands down. No question.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_a46WJ1viA

At the darkest points in my life, this song either came on the radio or I put it on the CD player.  I hummed it to myself in the dark when I needed someone to tell me that it would be all right.  I knew, in my rational mind, that it would be, but the emotional part of my mind doubted it.

When I was 19years old I went to the Concert in Central Park and, at dusk, Art Garfunkel sang this song.  And half a million people sang along, under their breaths.  We could all hear Art, but we also added our voices.  It was unbelievable.

Paul Simon once said that he hated the bridge "Sail on silver girl" part.  It had nothing to do with the rest of the song.  I must disagree – it makes the song so much stronger.

With that shift, that change of key, the song moves from "there, there, it'll be okay" to "you're okay now.  Go. Do."

I love this song.

What's your favorite song?

note: I took the photo.  In Australia 

15 Interesting Facts about Me

In an effort to blog more, I'm working from a list.  This was harder than I thought.

1. I work in a museum.  It is the coolest place.  When I need a break, I can go down and look at the Egyptian sarcophagus of a court musician or a Tibetan riding desk.  We have paintings by Edward Hopper and John Singer Sargeant and sculpture by Andy Warhol. Oh, and dinosaur bones.


2. I have been square dancing for more than 30 years.  If anyone knows what I'm talking about, I have taken classes through the Advanced level.

3. I have a twin sister.  Identical twin.  We freak people out.

4. In Junior High School, I took a film-making class.  Our class made a movie called "Fangs of Death."

5. All of my nieces and nephews were adopted.

6. I have nine book cases in my one-bedroom condo.

7. I have cheated death twice: 22 years ago in a car accident and 2 years ago I had a blood clot in my leg and a small piece in my lung. I'm all better now.

8. My ring-finger toe (on both feet) stopped growing when I was six.  It's a mutation called Brachia Metatarsil.  My twin has it, too.

9. I have traveled to London, England, Moscow, Russia, Greece and Australia.  I have also been to the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyons and Pike's Peak in Colorado.

10. I own the entire series of Jeremy Brett's Sherlock Holmes series on DVD.

11. I was once in the chorus of the opera, Aida.

12. I have a black belt in shopping.  No, seriously.  I found my sister's wedding dress for $200!

13. I once owned a car and drove it until I couldn't. 174,000 miles and the engine went while I was in line to get it inspected.

14. There is a potter's wheel in my living room.  Yes, I can throw pots, though I haven't in a while. Still, I eat my soup from bowls I've made.

15. I am writing a book. (well, several books really. But you probably knew that already.)

Comments?

Blue Moods and Blogging

Life has been hectic and a bit sad.  A family member passed over (peacefully) this morning and it's been tough for my brother's family.  The kids are upset and acting out, which, while understandable, doesn't help.

I don't want this blog to be about my whining, though, so I was casting about for ideas that weren't depressing. And my friend Tamara Siler Jones linked to this post: http://biggirlblue.blogspot.com/2010/11/30-days-of-me.html

I'm not going to wait until January to do this, I won't do every post or even close to being in order.  But I like many of the ideas, so I'm going to grok the list.  Starting tomorrow.

For today, I have a question.  Do you write through your blue moods or wait until they pass?

For me, it's a little of both.  I'll work through them, to a certain extent.  Mostly as a distraction, I'll make jewelry or draw (although I draw like a science teacher).  Eventually, those emotions work their way into my writing, but not immediately.  They need to simmer, to marinate.

I'll try to blog more, but if I get swept away with stuff, Happy Holidays folks!

note: Photo is Japan, Blue Mountains by miykiutada under creative commons license

Research and Details

Golem is set in the real world, even if it is Fantasy.  It's also set in a day and time where a lot of the details were just not recorded.  And, sometimes, I get stuck.  I want the details to be right, but even with the research I've done, I don't know the details.

This is the biggest reason for blocks that I'm finding with this year's nano.  Other years, I didn't have enough conflict, so I made a conflict list.  The peasants from the interior of Russia came to Odessa looking for work.  The Japanese/Russian war created a recession, so there was no work.  The peasants blame the Jews.  Conflict.

The research that I have done shows that the different peoples met in cafe's.  Peasants had a beer beside University students and shopkeepers ate their supper at the next table.  That's a good place for showing that conflict.

But now the details come into play - what did they eat?  soup? sandwiches? pot pies?  What did they drink? ale? vodka? wine?

I have a friend who's been stopping as she writes to research those details.  It's taking her awhile, but it seems to be working for her.  I haven't been able to find the details, though.  I've just wasted time.

NanoWrimo's creed is "Just Write", so I'm trying to go with an educated guess and I'll fix it later.  At least I'm getting words.

Here's a snip:

"Everywhere you go, you trip over more Jews."  I glanced over to the man who was speaking.  He wore old trousers and the kind of tunic that peasants wore, stained and badly repaired where it had torn.  He was a big man with loose folds of skin hanging from his neck and big, beefy hands that curled into fists.  He was also looking at me, pure hate pouring from him.  It stole my breath.

Another big man, with a jet black beard, laughed.  "You trip over your own feet, Misha."

"I'm serious.  I can't find a job because they're all given to these damned Jews."  His eyes never left me and I took two steps away, backing into someone else's chair.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured and started to weave my way toward Yakov and Avrom.

"You can't find a job because you drink your paycheck."  I was still close enough to hear them.

"No.  It's because Jews, like that girl, have all the jobs."  It was easy to hear him - his voice got louder as he got angrier.  I wanted to curl into a ball and hide underneath the tables.

His friend with the beard roared with laughter.  "That girl isn't going to beat you out for a job hauling crates in the warehouse.  IF she works, she's more likely to work in her father's store and no one's ever going to hire you to be nice to customers.  Eat something and calm down, Misha.  I didn't come here tonight to get started in a fight."

Yakov had seen me, finally, and he stood.  I rushed over and wrapped my arms around him; I didn't care who saw.

"Rachel?  Are you all right?"  His arm snaked around my shoulders and he looked down at me.  "Babele?" he added in a whisper.

"I'm all right," I whispered into his chest.

"One of the peasants yelled at her."  Avrom had stood and was looking over my head toward the man called Misha.  When I looked, he was frowning, but digging in to a bowl of soup.

How do you handle the details?

The Dark and the Light

I almost scrapped Golem as my nano project.  Really, I almost tossed all the prep and started over with the Sci Fi Bunny.  And it's all the fault of the research.

I'm setting Golem in a very real place, with very real history and very real.  And very, very not Happy Ever After.  Anyone who knows me knows that I go more for the sweet and less for the horror.  But there are parts of this story that *has* to be almost if not Horror.

Because 400 people, 300 of them Jews, died in a riot where very angry people focused their anger on those people who were different from them.  Jewish homes and businesses were destroyed.  Jewish women and children were beaten.

I knew that *my* story would have a happy-ish ending, but it couldn't completely be very happy, because I won't be rewriting history.  I just didn't think I could spend 50,000 words with such a depressing story.

In talking things over with a friend, she suggested that I write the sweet part of the story for a bit and maybe I'd feel better about it.  I tried and she's right.

But I'm coming to the conclusion that the story is stronger because of the contrast between light and dark.  You care more about the dark because you care about the characters.  And I, at least, care about the characters because they're really very sweet.

A short snip:

Mr. Grabel walked into the study, twisting his hat in his hands. "I don't want to be any trouble, Rabbi."

"No trouble," I said.  Mr. Grabel was a large, imposing man, but with my father, he acted like a young boy.  "The kettle is on already.  Do you take milk?"

He smiled shyly, even though his middle daughter was my best friend.  He'd known me all my life.  "A little honey, if you have it.  Thank you, Rachel."

Metrics:

Nano – Three days (I haven't really written much tonight): 5,832 words

Plan for this weekend: Spiders!