How Do E-Books Change the Reading Experience? – NYTimes.com


The advantages of e-books are clear. E-books are immediate. Sitting at home in Pakistan, I can read an intriguing review of a book, one not yet in stores here, and with the click of a button be reading that book in an instant. E-books are also incorporeal. While traveling, which I do frequently, I can bring along several volumes, weightless and indeed without volume, thereby enabling me to pack only a carry-on bag.

And yet the experience of reading e-books is not always satisfactory. Yes, it is possible to vary the size of the font, newly important to me at age 42, as I begin to perceive my eye muscles weakening. Yes, e-books can be read in the dark, self-illuminated, a reassuring feature when my wife is asleep and I am too lazy to leave our bed, or when electricity outages in Lahore have persisted for so long that our backup batteries are depleted. And yes, they offer more frequent indicators of progress, their click-forwards arriving at a rapidity that far exceeds that of paper-flipping, because pixelated screens tend to hold less data than printed pages and furthermore advance singly, not in two-sided pairs.

Nonetheless, often I prefer reading to e-reading. Or rather, given that the dominance of paper can no longer be assumed, p-reading to e-.

I think my reasons are related to the fact that I have disabled the browser on my mobile phone. I haven’t deleted it. Instead, I’ve used the restrictions feature in my phone’s operating system to hide the browser, requiring me to enter a code to expose and enable it. I can use the browser when I find it necessary to browse. But, for the most part, this setting serves as a reminder to question manufactured desires, to resist unless I have good cause.

Similarly, I have switched my email account from the attention- and battery-consuming “push” setting to the less frenzied manual one. Emails are fetched when I want them to be, which is not all that often. And the browser on my slender fruit-knife of a laptop now contains a readout that reminds (or is it warns?) me how much time I have spent online.

Time is our most precious currency. So it’s significant that we are being encouraged, wherever possible, to think of our attention not as expenditure but as consumption. This blurring of labor and entertainment forms the basis, for example, of the financial alchemy that conjures deca-billion-dollar valuations for social-networking companies.

I crave technology, connectivity. But I crave solitude too. As we enter the cyborg era, as we begin the physical shift to human-machine hybrid, there will be those who embrace this epochal change, happily swapping cranial space for built-in processors. There will be others who reject the new ways entirely, perhaps even waging holy war against them, with little chance — in the face of drones that operate autonomously while unconcerned shareholding populations post selfies and status updates — of success. And there will be people like me, with our powered exoskeletons left often in the closet, able to leap over buildings when the mood strikes us, but also prone to wandering naked and feeling the sand of a beach between our puny toes.

via How Do E-Books Change the Reading Experience? – NYTimes.com.

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Family Snapshot


English: Looking northwest at Collyer brothers...

English: Looking northwest at Collyer brothers Park on a cloudy late afternoon. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She had gone to the park out of curiosity.  Here in her city, was something of legend, a mental and emotional thing that captivated people across the lines of time and here also was a place that sat in monument to that. The events were not great, they were in fact quite monstrous, but the powers that be felt that they should catalog and memorialize this thing. So she went to the little pocket park out of curiosity. Or that is what she told herself at the time.

It was collier’s park. It was the site of the infamous and famous Collyer brothers and the first massive and publicized case of extreme hoarding. The phenomena now seems to be part of everyday life for some people, spawning TV shows and jokes but then , at the first part of last century it was an oddity. People barely had enough, less on more than enough to the point of extreme excess. But here in her city was a monument to the most extreme.

She sat in the pocket park, thinking of what could have made these two men, college educated yet shiftless and unemployed, stay in this home, amassing tons of garbage and although having the money to do so, not ever paying for the simplest of “luxuries” like electricity or food. She sat there until she was roused from her reverie by a cat. He was scarred in some long ago cat battle for food to territory, having a squashed pan flat face and dirty bedraggled tail the creature was not of the cuddly kitty variety. Something about the knowing way that it looked at her gave her the creeps and she suddenly realized that she was, in fact, on the site of not just one bad death but two.  Suddenly she was in the need of hasty retreat, and a bath.

That first night she dreamed of the cat. She dreamed of it looking at her, marking her and watching. Following her all over the city, this largest of all cities, her and one cat in a battle of wills. She awoke feeling sick and scared.

“Where were you, yesterday” Emilie asked when she came to work the next day

“Collyer’s park”

After an odd little beat of time that rendered the throw away tone useless she asked “Oh, why did you go there?”

“Curious I guess”

Curiosity killed the cat, you know”

“But satisfaction brought him back,” She replied

“Yeah, pretty sure that part is bullshit” Emilie said matter of factly.

“So I guess you do not like Collyer’s?” She asked

“No, I don’t” Emilie said, though not unkindly

Still she was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement towards such an innocuous subject. “Why?

“There was something wrong with those men, something very wrong and eccentricity does not cover it. They were wealthy enough to pay off a mortgage with one check, but they lived without heat and electricity. That is not normal in any sense, and understand that this was in New York City, this wasn’t some brushy little back water where they weren’t exposed to things. These were college educated New Yorkers and they … it is just creepy. Something is just very very off on this.”

“They were just hoarders,” She protested

“That’s another thing, “Just Hoarders” is not a normal sentence either but you see, there was something very wrong with those men and I don’t know, it seems to be catching. Hell it seems to be catching fire these days. “Emilie went silent, “How much do you know about the story?”.

 

How


I am stubborn to the point of self-destruction at times. I am admitting that right out. I have tried very hard not to read a single book about writing because I do not (did not) want any part of my writing to be someone else’s words or thoughts. I think that a lot of writers may do this but this is ridiculous when you think about it. I think that if your doctor said to you, “I never cracked a book, I just kept cutting people until I figured out how to stop killing them” you would flee, possibly screaming, into the street and never look back.

I know that writing and medicine are not the same animal, but the same can be said of politics. Tina Fey, who I love like good food, said that politics and prostitution are the only professions where people try to convince you of how inexperienced they are as a virtue. I think that writers can sometimes be said to feel the same. I want, basically, to be talented and not taught. The problem is that the idea is idiotic, not to put too fine a point on it. I am not saying that you can’t be good if you never get instruction but the honest to god truth is that you can’t write unless you are taught something. How to read at the very least.

I love Stephen King. I want to admit that out right, as well. I think that he is one of the great writers and never-mind the bullshit that people say about anyone and anything that is popular. I think that the man is amazing, not because his writing is amazing but because it is not. Not always anyway. There are exceptions in his writing, Under the Dome is one. Misery is another and I think that the story “The Boogeyman” is almost perfect as a short (very short) horror story. I have it on audiobook and the combination of the writing and the reading by John Glover make it something I listen to like music, and like music I can recite it by heart.  I love the characters decent into madness as he tried to explain the truth that is impossible to accept and that you as a reader have to wonder if he is just a as the character himself states “ another goofy”. Perhaps, you wonder, he is a murderer and can’t admit it , like ( spoiler alert) another character in Strawberry Spring or if he is just trying to make sense of what makes no sense; all three of his children dying before they are three. I love this story and think that it is wonderful.

So you would think that knowing that one of my favorite writers was writing a book about writing (oh my god this sentence is going to sound crazy) about writing called “On Writing” would have sent me into mad gales of happiness. I would have been standing on the corner at 8:59 am waiting for the Barnes and Nobel to open and allow me to plunk my money down to find out how he does it.  You would, as I am sure you have gleaned already, have been very wrong. I saw that book as something terrible almost, like a magician telling his secrets and not just his but everyone’s. I did not crack that book, not once and I was high-minded about it. As you know when you have decided that you are doing something because it is the “right and proper thing” you are always right, right? Yes, and that is how people become terrorists. They decide that they are perfectly legitimate in their thoughts and words to the contrary are just jealousy, lunacy or some other y.

When I knew that the creepy and amazing Chloe Grace Moretz was set to play Carrie White  and the sequel to “ The Shining”  was coming out ( all near Halloween , also) I decided to read or reread some of my favorite King novels and among the books that I found was  On Writing at my local half off book store. I bought it because it was practically free. I am a sucker for a deal. Then I laid it aside and read my other books again. It wasn’t until I was reading someone else’s book, one about goal setting, and it was mentioned that I decided that it was time to at least try the e book.

I have to say that, while I am not done with this book, almost but not quite, I could kick myself for waiting as long as I did to read it. It is not the best book on writing, I can see that, but it is genuine and genuinely written. I think the things that make this book an actual good novel as well as a decent instructional manual is that it doesn’t think that it really is either animal. It is a memoir, it says that on the cover, and it is that. It is also a bit of a novel , telling a story inside it that is one that I had personally seen without having heard it outright until now; that there is a very damaged man that wrote many of my favorite books. One that has Daddy issues, was a drunk and a drug addict, has been broke and broken several times in life and that has never gotten completely over the abandonment of his father or the death of his mother entirely.

I say that not to tax Mr. King with anything just to say that most of that is true for most people and the idea that we have to be perfect to be great is not only foolish but dangerous. I myself have been fond of saying about my sexual self that I know where all my desires come from and I have decided that I don’t care and just enjoy the orgasms. If we are waiting for perfection to do our great work we will be waiting a very long time.  I know of a woman doctor who had her children while in medical school, on purpose, and when asked why she would do such a thing when she knew how hard it would be see said simply “when would it have not been hard? When I was an intern? A new doctor? I knew I wanted kids and that I wanted to be a doctor, and that if I waited for the perfect time to do either I would do neither”. That sums it up for me.

So I am reading On Writing and while I am not gaining any burning insights so to speak I am being reminded of those things that I needed to be reminded of, and well. That writing is for writing. Not for money or fame. You write because it is what you are meant to do. That you will not always write the best but you can try to write something that you would want to read. Have a goal in mind. Even if the goal is modest, having it will help you to accomplish. I myself have allowed Steve’s own to suggestion to be mine for the start. 1000 words a day. Which is satisfied today with what you are reading. Not long and not perfect but I hope honest and entertaining.

Somebody’s watching me


We live in an overly cataloged and documented world. We are doing it to ourselves, of course, but it is true. I am attached via name and face to no less than two dozen sites, I have Facebook , LinkedIn , foursquare, twitter and Google+ to name a few. I do reviews and comments enough to earn a “top contributor” on the internet. I am online. I am locatable. I don’t mind that because my world and my goals in this world are a want for recognition. I am trying to build a brand for both my writing, my day job and myself.

Still and all that means that my image is attached to many things. As, probably, is yours.  That brings me to today’s topic. I recently upgraded to Microsoft Office 2013 and one of the fantastic little updates is that you can sign into sites right through to your outlook. I did because I love stupid little things like that, they know this, and the people that made that feature are tech geeks.

The thing about that is, I can see the Facebook attached to my candidate’s emails, when they come into my inbox. Which for the most part is fine, but that begs the question, “if your employer or potential employer saw your Facebook profile, would that cost you anything?” I hope that the answer is no. However, for some of you …

We have all seen the chick whose Facebook photo is her breasts or her behind. Unless you are in the sex industry that is not the image that you need to portray.  The person whose profile picture is his weed stash or some other unflattering image.  Do yourself a favor and take that down, right now! First, I do not care who you are, you are better than that, trust me. Second, if your name is something rude, crude or sexually explicit, take that down too. Same thing for your email address, while I have you here, if you are “sexytramp69@yahoo.com “for the love of GOD get a new email address. Potential employers will not be impressed at how “real” you keep it. Just think of this; if you are standing in a room full of family members, and you have to give your email address, your YouTube name or your Facebook handle, would you be embarrassed? If yes, change it. Does your employer need to know that you are “Dabaddezbitch”, “DatNiggaDarrall”, or even “Jackdaniels4lyfe”?

 

The bottom-line is this , treat your name and image like it is your product , because now a days it is just that.

Successful


 

I am a Creative with deep roots. Its not what people see that counts, its whats buried deep that counts.If you are particularly sensitive, you may want to get an “updated” copy of Napoleon Hill’s masterwork “Think and Grow Rich” , but if not it is available in PDF or E-reader for for free download all over the internet. I say that “if you are particularly sensitive” part because I began reading the original for the first time yesterday and I realize that over the years, some of the language has been cleaned up and some stories have been edited for content. I am not particularly sensitive but I did take slight umbrage with the use of “Deaf and Dumb” in reference to Helen Keller, Calling a black child “ignorant, illiterate” in a story .words that did not really add to the story in my opinion. The almost constant use of the word “Normal” in relation to Blair Hill, the author’s son, that was born with no ears but who was forced to learn how to hear because of the overwhelming need for him to be “normal” by his father. I find that story both amazing and horrible.

Nevertheless, the other parts of the book are filled with merit. The book has been revamped and this is my third or fourth time reading it, although my first with the original text, and I think that it is something that everyone should read, at least once. Like the bible. Moreover, like the bible, you will get out of it what you get out of it. I can see it going forward in some people’s lives as simply new age ( the book is rounding on 100 years I think but still people will call it that) bull. Which for them, it will be. Some people will, as I did, read it and not really understand it. It rings a faint bell but I do not know that I really know the tune kind of thing. You have to keep reading it as your paradigm changes to get the true scope of the thing.

Then some of you, the Chloë Grace Moretz, the Bill Gates, the Zuckerbergs, among you will read it and have a kind of ping and duh moment at the same time. I think that the “secret” that lives in the pages of the book is something that comes natural to some people in this world. They wake up every day with the knowledge that they are going to make it. I am both awed by and terrified of these people. Not those as they are now but I suspect that Hitler was one of these people just turned inside out. When I meet them, always a part of me hopes they are one the side of good. Because I do not think that, I would be great in the apocalypse, except the Zombie Apocalypse because I have plans together.

I am reading this book again, and what I am getting out of it this time is, I can do it. In actuality, I am getting a full picture of my successes and failures of the past year. I tend to lose faith when I am close to the end because I believe that I fear (or have feared, as I am conquering that now) the near win-miss. The honest to god truth is that, without failure you cannot win; or should I say constructive failure. You cannot win the grand prize, if you do not lose the second prize. So many times in my life, I have been unwittingly leaving the game because I lost at second when the first prize had yet to be awarded. Real life example of that is when I won my 60-Inch TV, I had wanted to win the TV, which was the last prize. In the process, I gloomily sulked over not winning the laptop, the vacation package, the PS3 (they had just come out) and I was literally putting my coat on when I won the TV. The thing that I had actually stated that I wanted! My single raffle ticket, if it had won something else, could not bring me the TV that I wanted but I was ready to give up when I had not won everything. Something that would have been impossible anyway!

Therefore, again in my reaffirming the goal mindset, I state that while I am blessed and lucky to have been given my fantastic brain, I am also at odds with said brain. Sometimes I have to shut it off and let my heart take the wheel. I know what I want. I am learning how to get it and nothing will stand in my way. Not even me

If I had a Hammer…


If you asked a person that never saw a hammer, what a hammer could do, what do you think that they would say? A hammer in the hands of a child, or an animal like a monkey or raccoon is nothing but an object to destroy. A bludgeon, a blunt object or a weapon. A hammer is useless to those with no knowledge of them. Does that mean that a hammer has no value in society? The hammer is stupid, in other words?

If you answered yes, I need you to stop reading, right now. I am serious, not another sentence. I don’t want or need the thoughts of a person that says that getting into my head via my writing, which I sometimes feel is a conduit. If, on the other hand, you read the question and wondered in utter puzzlement, where I was going with all the hammer talk, please read on.

I have read that LinkedIn is an utter waste of time. I have read that about Facebook marketing, Twitter accounts, YouTube … I have read through several sources that all these things, all the social media ( side bar, when did that become something I say every day? Social media? I don’t know) sites are just filler and fluff and that people that use them are time wasters. I think that 800 years ago, or whenever Hammers were invented, they would have said the same thing about them. I will use my rocks and boards thank you, they would snark at the hammer users, and you can play with your stupid little toy. They are the people that damned sewing machines, TV, computers and cell phones. They are the people that will always be and always be proven wrong. We used to call them nay Sayers.

The fact is that calling a tool stupid is, well, stupid. It shows that you have no idea how to use said tool and instead of wanting to be taught you would rather damn the product. Can LinkedIn be a waste of time, oh hell yes. It can be something you play on for a few hours, following Richard Branson and Conan O’Brian’s words around and end the day with nothing accomplished. You can spend a whole day connecting with people for no reason, until enough of them complain and you are put into LinkedIn jail and have to have email addresses to connect with anyone. You can endlessly see who looked at your page and wonder how they found you. You can even develop a crush on someone and go peeping at their page every few hours to see if they changed anything. I actually have one of those. He is always there, checking me out.

On the other hand you can do amazing Boolean searches and find people that fit your needs perfectly. I needed a CPA, with a Master’s degree and 8 years of experience in oil and gas … boom, found!  From Texas, educated at Oxford. DONE, says LinkedIn, what else you want? I found my amazing first placement there on LinkedIn. She was just there for the cherry picking, and I didn’t even know all the uses at that point (gotta love beginners luck) and I found a woman so perfect for the role that even I was impressed with myself. On LinkedIn, I found her, placed her and got paid. From the waste of time site. Yeah.

I think what I am trying to say is , if you are waiting for the hammer to explain to you how to use it, it will sit, stupidly , waiting for you to pick it up and whack you thumb with it. If, on the other hand, you take the time to learn how to use the hammer, how its weight affects things, what way to hold it, and put that to use you can build a home. You can build a boat to sail the world. You can build a business making furniture, or racecars … ok not race cars but you understand where I’m going with this. You cannot damn the hammer, for your lack of knowing.

Everyday I’m hustling…


Flickr friends

Flickr friends (Photo credit: Meer)

 

I’m carving a very strange little life for myself. I am living extremely nomadic. I have no roots at the moment and the lack there of is getting to me. I have more Friends then I have had in two decades but have less care in my life then in those two decades. I guess the thing that upsets me is that I am used to being slightly princess… Cared for… I don’t feel cared for.

 

Send in the Clowns


This song means a lot to me as I grow up and grow older . So many things  in my life , not just men but jobs, friends, thoughts, actions  , feel like they fall in this category . This why didn’t I realize at the time what I had .  Only to realize that the recapture of that thing , place , person or action is outside of your ability. You can not get the one that got away.

There are a lot of these for me , some because I truly didn’t see the merit on them and for those I can only sigh and move on but the ones that hurt are the ones that I missed out on because I was too  chickenshit it make a move . I am never proud of myself when I  miss out on something because  I decided to be a chickenshit . I would rather fail miserably  in trying than be in fear. I would like to try and fail beautifully.

In the spirit of that I have decided to sing today. You are free to listen or not to listen ( like you didn’t know that , right?) but understand that I am singing accapella and I did not do another take . I am a little pitchy at times I think but I am also woman enough today to sing one of my favorite songs to you and free of change .

http://youtu.be/TU8d7SBwswI

This year has not been easy and it is only May , but then again this year has not been easy and it is already May . I am not going to wallow in the many yesterdays, the could have beens , the should have beens. I am going to sing. and I am going to dance . I am going to move forward and laugh . Topple , roll , squeak my red nose and freak some people out . In short I am going to embrace the fact that I may be a clown. But after I go forward I will never let fear make me a clown again .

Clumsy


There are times when you find your self flat on the ground, having smashed your face into the pavement and all you can do it get  up, dust yourself off , pray you didn’t irrevocably damage yourself ,  ignore the laughter of strangers and just keep going with your day . This is not a metaphor, I literally fell on my ass today ,  or more accurately my face. I scrapped my face on the pavement .  I am feeling very poised and graceful today , I can tell you . 

The funny thing is , well first of all I do this at least once a year so this isn’t new , it really does redefine your day when you bust your ass. I mean no matter how cute you think you are a good fall with reboot the hell out of you . Yes you are still cute but you can also suddenly and without warning look like a complete idiot . And that’s okay . We all look ridiculous sometimes . You do not die ( hopefully) , and you will not be permantly damaged by most of them, you may be a little banged up ( I scrapped my chin…my lord I am sexy today!) but at the end of it you can probably laugh at it. 

I am reminded that one of my girl crushes , Jennifer Lawrence ( if you don’t know her , shame on you because she is awesome!) ,  had the wonderful  honor of winning an Oscar and on her way up the stairs she fell. She sat for a second and then recommenced and started back up the stairs to thunderous applause and a standing ovation  from her fellow actors and those lucky enough to get a ticket. Her response  was ” “You guys are just standing up because you feel bad that I fell.”  Now , she can be that cool after flubbing a once in a lifetime moment, the I can not even being to be all butt-hurt over my falling in front of a bunch of strangers , and neither should you , if you ever do so. 

 

It’s been one week…


“Sex Life of Robots” | Michael Sullivan

“Sex Life of Robots” | Michael Sullivan (Photo credit: ceslava.com)

 

There is a book, perhaps you’ve
heard of it, that says if you are having trouble in your marriage
You should have sex everyday for 30 days. Without exception. You can’t be to busy, or to tired or to I’m thinking of divorcing this scumbag so I don’t want to fuck him…none of those things is an excuse. Everyday. Thirty days.
Now in those 30 days of sex bootcamp, there has to be some days where the sex is phenomenal; quivering , undulating flesh, orgasms that make you forget your own middle name, and that remind you why you married this person.
Contradictory to that are other days. Days when sex with this man or woman make you feel like…well like you are being forced to have sex everyday. Days when all you want to do is watch Himym and finally ,for the love of God ,know who this woman is!  And the sex is , kind of, blah.
I said that, and I’m apologizing in advance, because that is what I’m doing with my blog. Follow through is NOT my strong suit. If it were, you would hear people say things like ” did you read Brie Stoll’s last book?” Because that’s what I was born to do.
So for 30 days I’ll write. Sick, well, hung over, sad, happy, busy ,broke or whatever , I will write.
Some days you may read and think, that was good. Somedays you may read and think that’s awesome. Somedays you may read and think, not even close. That’s what the apology earlier was for.
I promise to try to bring you to a literary orgasm everyday . There will be days when you are already looking for the remote and wondering if there’s a nice juicy nurse Betty on somewhere. But I promise to do my level best to have as many days possible of “yes, yes, right there, oh, oh…I love you”… In the literary sense.

 

 

I love being a girl


Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon

Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I really do … I know , please , my feminist sisters don’t jump down my throat , yes I am a woman but I am sorry I love being a girl. Not a female. Not a woman. A girl. I love the feminine loveliness, the soft, the sweet. I love being a female , yes , but when I get ready  and have the makeup and the hair , cutsie poo and the sexy sensual beautiful things that I have and look in the mirror and I am truly feeling myself , I think , I love being a girl.

 

My proclamation is just that. I want to be allowed to be happy that I am a girl. I have a male friend that tries to throw lugs about women because of his own insecurities, about not having to do his hair, or not having to wear makeup. For the record, there are many men that are girls as well, and I am not just talking about being gay. Usher, the metro-sexual, and just your plain old pretty boys. And there are women that just don’t wear makeup and girlie clothes. SO… rude statement naturalized … but for those of us , like myself, who enjoy it , I also counter that I am not stuck with the woman I wake up to . I can sometimes suffer insomnia. When you go to sleep at 4 to wake up at 6, the women in the mirror at 6 looks like … how do I say this … death warmed over, twice.  When I walk out to people saying “you look rested”, ha-ha, I win!

 

I am a woman, smart, articulate, funny… umm…modest. I am also a girl, bubbly, and silly, unbearably cute …ummm…modest. Both are sides to me. They are parts that make me, me. They are the things that captivate those who know me into believing that the insecure pile of jello that I can be is this confidant grown up finally, and giving up my girl would not help, but hinder that.  If I had to stop having a crush on Tom Hardy, if I had to never go see another  Comic book movie alone ( yes I said alone ) , If I had to stop squealing when something made me really happy I would be diminished , my I would be smaller.

 

I think sometimes we are so quick to cast off out child self, not childish but child self, that we forget how to play, how to fun, how to dance like no one is watching, how to love a celebrity like we know them (not the crazy fanatic thing where we carve their names into our body, that is a sick child self and needs riddelin) just because they are awesome, and we lose the joy that was once inherent to our very nature. I realize that my girl and I are codependent as hell, we need each other. She lets me write and I let her scream for joy in the middle of the store  when she finds out Kelsey Grammar is playing Beast , my favorite X men character of all, in the middle of a store ( true story) .

 

I leave this long rambling prose with the following. Find your inner girl, or boy. I suggest Lego’s, they freaking LOVE Lego’s.

 

 

 

Serendipity


I love words. My favorite words are whimsical (also whimsy), Umbrage, Contracou, and Serendipity. I like the sounds of these words, I like the meanings and I like being the kind of ridiculous smart ass that would say them in normal conversation. Yes, I do and no I don’t care if you don’t understand it. Take the meaning form context and quit being stupid. Have I mentioned yet that I am a little bit of a bitch, not a huge one but a little bit? I don’t suffer fools gladly, I just can’t.  There are too few hours in a day.

Anyway, serendipity is high up there because it’s such a gorgeous word. It sounds ridiculous, almost childish. It has so many syllables. If I was a different kind of person I am sure I would have a child named Serendipity. And the meaning; A happy accident, or pleasant surprise. Those things in our lives that count as serendipity are so pleasing that it becomes almost to be viewed as miracle. Small or large. I once stuck my hand into a pocket of a coat at the thrift store; I rarely do that , and walked out with the coat and 18.00. The coat was 2.00.

In my life I have been blessed with no just feeling but accepting serendipity as a part of my life. I walk out of my home and expect that sometime soon the gods will smile on me , with free coffee or a scavenging opportunity for something I really want or need ( I once for a gold necklace in my scavenging that I sold for 100 bucks) or just a moment of viewing my lucky bird flying past. The male cardinal, by the way.

I said all that to say this; I think the best thing about my life is that I have always been able to find that belief in wonder, in magic, in serendipity. That the rough and sometimes quite unlovely things that have occurred in my life have never robbed me of those things. I am nearly forty and I still squeal at the top of my lungs when I am excited. That I never attained the dreaded bitterness that makes us decide that everything sweet, kind and wonderful is for kids. I don’t know why I didn’t. I just didn’t. And that’s fine.

By the way, zemblanity is the opposite of serendipity. Promise me you will stay away from this guy, when you can.