What I thought about while drinking my coffee today

I’m resisting the urge to look up Sam Lipsyte’s books. I read the interview with him in Gigantic #2 on the train this morning, and it made me want to read his work. But I’m surrounded by unread books. I’ll start looking for his stuff when I go to used bookstores.

I want to use mindmaps more often. Yesterday I took regular notes in a meeting, then expanded on what I wrote down and turned it into a mindmap. Maybe I’ll mindmap something this afternoon.

Too bad class this morning didn’t fix my literal pain in the neck from sleeping on it wrong thing, but nothing’s perfect. One year ago this week, I started doing Bikram yoga. I detest heat, I wasn’t very strong, my sense of balance apparently wasn’t keen, and the distracting chatter in my head was LOUD, so it is surprising I’ve stuck with it. (All that, plus I’ve never been an exercise-oriented person. Couch potato makes it sound like I watch more tv than I really do; mouse potato would be more accurate if I had a mouse, touchpad potato just doesn’t have the same ring.) I’m stronger, more flexible, and it is the best thing for stress I’ve ever done. Added bonus: I lost weight without being miserable or feeling deprived. Go yoga.

I’ve decided to try and hate spring less this year.

I just got UPPERCASE suitcase series book of Camilla Engman’s work and I adore it. I am a bit jealous regarding her dog, whose picture I’m looking at.

I bet Camilla Engman’s dog does not vomit on the floor for sport or spite like my cat just did.

My next camera-related toy will be the Diana lens. Yes, I’m going to stick a cheapo (relatively) plastic lens on my DSLR. I will learn more about exposure and it will be fabulous.

I believe we are about to get extra karmic bonus points for going out to do errands in the rain.

I should write more.

I want more coffee, but I’m past my cutoff.

What I’m doing this year

So far:

Thinking about art and doubt and all the time I am not spending in my studio, and I’m reading books and stories.

How my mind gets quiet, then gets open, when I pick up the camera and go for a walk (which I am still doing, I’m just not in the studio as much as I anticipated). I always feel better when I do it, and when I’m back at home later, on the computer, weeding in iPhoto and processing in Photoshop.

Thinking about writing and how I’m not (except at this moment, when, obviously, I am, if you remove any worries about quality or arguments about “real” writing and concede that typing your own words technically qualifies) and that I miss it.

How I have exciting new books as a result of the holidays. I sense a short story reading kick coming on. I’m in love with Dangerous Space at the moment, because the stories make me uncomfortable and stay with me. I picked up the improbably named Demons in the Spring and Dreams of a Dancing Robot Bee even more improbably at Barnes and Noble this weekend, for only ninety cents more than the total of the gift cards I had. There was a special satisfaction in handing over a single dollar bill and getting a dime back and still getting to leave the store with two books.

It’s January and cold and there’s actually snow on the ground, threatening to stick around for more than forty eight hours this time, and this pleases me. (I don’t drive in it, or have to shovel it, and no I don’t have the kind of job where I get snow days, but still I love snow like I did when I was a kid and brought my roll-up blue plastic sled to school.) By the end of the week, the high temp will be in the teens if the forecasters are right. I hope they are. I will wear my flannel-lined jeans.

Realizing the photo project is really winding down, only a few weeks left, considering what project(s) I might do next.

Best thing I read online this weekend wasn’t anything new. An essay about doubt. Another by the same author on the unsayable is open in a tab, I will get to that soon. That’s a new thing I’m doing this week: actually reading through the things I pop open in tabs. Really reading them. It feels like I’m looking for something, not sure what. I’m reading the likely suspects, too. (O’Reilly’s Work on Stuff That Matters — which I liked, but some part of me is always suspicious, these accomplished folks for whom money presumably isn’t a major worry, telling everyone to work on what really matters — not saying he is wrong, in fact I don’t believe he is. But the working class kid in me snorts a bit and hearing it, and thinks nice work if you can get it despite the fact that I went to college, three times, three degrees! so that I could get nice work, perhaps not understanding entirely the indentured servitude aspect of the debt involved in doing so.)

It’s late, I’m already up too late for the alarm, and I have the dentist in the morning. I’m grateful this is just a cleaning and there won’t be any terrible news involved. I already know at least one more crown and probable do-over of another root canal is in my future. This confers immunity at my cleaning: how can hearing about cavities possibly bother me?

So, photography, good books, ideas, looking for something, not-so-secretly enjoying the bitter cold. Things are off to a good start.

Embracing my inner slacker

So I started off wanting to catch up on my book reviews, then realized it would be crazy to write five posts (reviews for Everything is Miscellaneous, OK OK OK, Robot Dreams, Crush, and The City of Dreaming Books) on the second day of NaBloPoMo and have none of them count.

I mean, duh.

Well, really I started off feeling crappy and emailing in sick. Yeah, I don’t call in sick, I email in sick. If it were later in the morning, I guess I could have instant messaged in sick. Someday maybe I could twitter in sick, but my manager doesn’t reliably use twitter. Yet.

This means I spent a good deal of the day wearing these. Technically I wasn’t breaking any agreed upon rules, because 1) I wasn’t working, and 2) they are not pajamas. See, pajamas and lounge pants are two different things. Key example: pajama bottoms do not have pockets, but lounge pants do. I guess they don’t have to, but then they’d feel less like lounge pants and more like jammies if they didn’t. I made some deal with Lisa when I started mostly working from home not to stay in my pajamas all day.

One of the things the 365 days project has revealed is just how damn often I wear certain things. I didn’t notice this at first, then I realized holy crap it’s like I have three shirts. And I spend most of the cold months wearing thermal shirts around the house, with flannel bottoms. It’s November, so they’re back.

I’ll get to those reviews eventually. I think I wanted to do them today because even though sick days are perfectly reasonable things to take, even though the whole point is not having to do anything, I still felt like a slacker. And not in a good way.

I didn’t actually take a nap, but I did get over it. Poor Lisa, she dropped off the laundry because I wasn’t going to put real pants back on.