The Obligatory New Year Entry

Long time see. I'm crap and I know it.

Anyway, Christmas and NYE were suitably drunken and I had fun and was remarkably well behaved. Guilable aren't you.

So new year, new me? Probably not but some action must be taken in many areas. I'm sure to report/whine/bitch about it here in the future.

Hope all is well with you and yours.

Much love from the ninja.

Do, Re, Me, Me, Me, Me

Again, I've stolen an idea from Doppelganger.

Eight Things You Didn't Know About Me

1) I bruise incredibly easily, sometimes I can just lean on something and come away with a bruise.

2) My ability to consume pizza has shocked and disgusted people on both sides of the Atlantic.

3) I don't really look like anyone in my family. Actually until I was 25 I kept expecting my parents to sit me down and tell me I wasn't theirs.

4) I hate my accent and my voice.

5) I've lived on six continents and while I plan to visit Antarctica I won't be there long enough to complete the set.

6) I have utterly no ability to deal with children. Anyone under 12 is a complete mystery to me and I can never find anything to say to them.

7) My brother used to be one of my best friends and now we have very little in common; it's sad.

8) Contrary to having this blog and answering this meme, I don't really like talking about myself that much. Unless I'm drunk and then I never shut up.

So there you go, I'm sure you're fascinated.

Words, Words, Words

Sometimes there is a weird synchronicity* in reading. In every third book or magazine I've read in the last six months, Herodotus has been mentioned; I finally took the cosmic hint and put it on my wish list.

Along the same lines, Sars has redone Tomato Nation and I was rereading some of my favourite essays. This one in particular resonated with me as I'd had a conversation in the last week about how I couldn't get into the Flashman books because of derogatory references to anyone who wasn't white. Yesterday I read Agatha Christie's "Dumb Witness" which has a chapter titled N***** in the Woodpile (I can't even type the word). So all this is rolling around in my mind and I began to wonder if I'm being oversensitive and a bit hippy woo woo about the whole thing. In the Christie example, it was a common phrase of the time and I suppose allowances must be made for changes in thinking. And after all they're just words.

But the problem is that there is no "just" about it. Words are thoughts.

I guarantee this word and all the other pejoratives like it are used every single day. In harsh, whispered smiles; as a punch line to a joke; yelled by true believers. It makes me so angry because there is utterly no need for any of it. I'm not naive enough to think we should just hug and sing Kumbaya and get along. It would be impossible, and no doubt boring, to like everyone but dislike them for valid reasons. Be pissed at your boss because of her patronising manner not because of the colour of her skin. Roll your eyes at the drama queen's selfish antics and not at his sexuality. Be mystified at your professors' discourteous address and not their accent.

I'm not sure I even know what my point was in all this, however, if Descartes is right and cogito ergo sum I don't want these thoughts, these words to define who I am. And neither should you.

*You have no idea how long it took me to find a word to describe this feeling. The thought process went thus (the dashes represent me buggering about on Wiki or getting distracted by the dictionary): amalgam - symbiosis - syzygy. Notice I skipped over the actual word and went straight to the pretentious one.

Navel Gazing Alert

I’ve been reading through the archives of Miss Snark and now I really want to start writing. The problem of course is that I have no idea how to write a novel. I have a bunch of ideas and random bits of dialogue running around my head all the time (I think this is perfectly normal but if it’s not I really don’t want to know) but how that translates to a plot and characterisation is beyond me. A writing course is the obvious answer but what if I truly suck at it?

Supposedly, writing begets more writing and must be honed like any other craft. This means I will have to set myself some assignments and use this here handy blog to find my way.

You have been warned.