Stats

I'm a writer, yes. I like to manipulate words. But, I also manipulate numbers. More often than not, I'm paid for my ability to manipulate numbers, not words. Thus, I find things like statics very interesting, and get distracted by them.

I have more Germans reading this than anyone else. Not that that says much as not very many people read this, and it doesn't help that I was on hiatus for two years. All of which are interesting, at least to me.

What will the stats look like tomorrow?

Who am I?

Graduation season has come and gone. Recent graduates either have jobs or have settled back in to their parents’ basements. Regardless, they’re ready to go out in to the real world.

This year, I’ve joined those graduates. After eleven long years, I’m fully validated as an individual ready to conquer life.

Stop. Look left. Look right. But there’s not a street to cross. There’s nothing there. There’s no cars, no trees, no dogs peeing on fire hydrants. Just two tunnels with big, open possibilities on either side. Or maybe they converge at the end.

I spent my eleven year long journey to holding a Bachelors of Arts in English developing an identity in offices across two states. The only time I didn’t hold a “real” job was my first semester as a college freshman. After that, it was classic skirts and pinstripe pants and cardigans and casual Fridays. It’s a life so many college graduates just can’t figure out how to slip in to after four years of pajamas and band t-shirts being acceptable every day. Not to mention the work ethic and inability to always just make it up later.

How, then, is it that I’m sitting here with a degree in my hand and yet I’m still lost? I have the validation from an institution coupled with the experience and work ethic of an accomplished professional. This should be easy, right?

Of course it’s not. It’s hard. And, it’s harder for me because I’ve spent the last eleven years developing two identities.

School let me develop one identity alongside a passion: reading and writing and writing about reading and writing. Classes taught me to develop characters on paper and analyze their actions to discover a deeper meaning about the world. It taught me why i comes before e except after c and the difference between using and not using the Oxford comma. I learned to navigate bureaucracy and to not stop asking for help until I received the help that I needed, not just the help others wanted to give. I learned perseverance and that work can indeed be fun.

But school wasn’t the only part of my eleven year long excursion to receiving a diploma. I worked the entire time to support myself and my family. I worked in a position completely unrelated to  my degree (accounting) and put numbers in columns and told people how much money to pay the government and when they needed to do it. I moved to the private sector and did the same thing, this time in my industry, at a bookstore, for a year and a half before being laid off. Six months later, I found myself once again keeping books, this time for an advertising agency in Nampa, Idaho.

But, while my job title has always indicated a deep level of familiarity with which numbers should go in which columns, my duties have always encompassed more. My attention to detail and my understanding of the English language has lead to me doing quite a bit of copyediting and even some copywriting. Everything from advertising copy and press releases to emails to the boss have been scrutinized by my eye for not just periods and commas but also for subtler meaning and understanding, and ensuring the message conveys the totality of the writer’s intent. I’ve spent hours preparing and executing trainings of all varieties, from learning a system and becoming an expert to sharing my knowledge and expertise with numbers and words and everything in between. I’ve done the mundane: answer phones and order supplies and make copies. I’ve done the complex: build and re-build manuals and instructions to stand the test of time.

My title, either work or school, doesn’t even begin to touch on my abilities.

I’ve one one battle: I’ve earned my degree. There’s pictures of it on the internet. Now, it’s time to win the next, and reconcile my two identities fully. Here I go.

What's for Dinner?

A few weeks ago I started posted what was for dinner on Thursday. Why Thursday? Mostly, it was because that night I had made ham pucks and Sam was really excited for them. Now, I figure, why not?

So, tonight is a night for leftovers. We've been eating some really great food all week, and now we need to re-eat some of it. It's hard to cook for two.

To quick-recap the meals we're noshing on: we've recently had a chili and corn bread, a cream of brocolli soup (broccoli +milk +seasoning +chicken stock +slow cooker = awesomeness), and chicken smothered in the last of the mole sauce I made a while ago.

Writing Prompt

I can't put this up on the BNO blog. But, what a fantastic writing prompt: be naked when I get home via 9kik. There's a story in that. At least one.

Also, I have another follower :). And, more importantly, I DON'T KNOW HER! Hi new follower. I hope you find something interesting here.

When it Flows

I've had an idea for a little while now for a story that needs to be written. It's a simple, funny, somewhat nostalgic story. It's strange for me though - I'm not starting with characters. I'm starting with a world and I'm starting with glue.

This is new territory for me. Usually I start with a character, and let the character decide what will happen next, until the character does something stupid or otherwise shows me where my sadistic side needs to come out. But not here. Here, there's a bus, and some people, and races. No specific people, just generic people who drive and ride in the bus.

And then Friday I saw the food necklaces. These are exactly as they sound: necklaces made of cord with food strung on them in place of beads. I've been telling just about everyone I see about these things. Sam's friend subsequently dubbed them "snacklaces."

The snacklaces needed to meet the bus derbies.

But how would the two meet up? How could the marry? Sure, the two concepts go together better than peanut butter and jam, but how exactly do they do it? I've been trying to force this to happen since Friday, and have had no success. I know that's not all that long, but, in Megan-time, three days trying to get this all to be happy together might as well be 30 years.

Tonight though, I did it! I went back to my character first way of writing. I made someone say something and react. And then the other person react. And now the bus derbies are coming to live. The derbies have rules and special people in them. And some of them wear snacklaces. And all because I forced some people to talk.

What gets you writing?

Dinner Tonight

Among the many things the husband and I do, we eat. We eat at home, and we eat out. And eating at home means cooking.

Somehow, I came out okay in that wifely-duty department. My parents graced me with good food (real food, not that stuff people call "food") as a child, made me eat things I didn't want to try (most of the time they were really good, though I'm sure my mother will tell you I thought otherwise (still an adverb there) at the time), and cooked. And they cooked from scratch. Some of it was basic, every day things. Spaghetti with shake cheese, meatloaf, corn salad. And sometimes meals would get more creative. Skinny noodle salad is a concoction of red cabbage and raw crunched up ramen noodles. It has got to be one of the cheapest, best salads on the planet that could quite literally feed an army.

Today though, the husband and I visited a different childhood classic, one my dad hated. My mom would make it when he was out of town. Its made of vile things, including mayonnaise, and I love it. A few years ago I decided I really wanted this for dinner. I came home from the grocery store with a handful of ingredients. The husband thought I was crazy. I made dinner, and he ate one of these oven-toasted open-faced sandwiches, and fell in love. Now he dances around and makes squealing noises when I suggest we should maybe have this for dinner.

What is this dish that not only includes but features mayonnaise that I'm willing to consume and enjoy doing so?

Ham pucks.

They're really quite simple. Make a ham salad, it on an English muffin, top it with some Swiss cheese, and throw it in the oven until the cheese is melted goodness.

I really can't comment more than that on the recipe. Ham salad means so many things. To me it means ham, mayonnaise, pickles, and onions all diced nice and fine. (Throw it all into a food processor for an easy, consistent almost pate-consistency). Want celery in yours? Add it? Feeding fifty people? Make more. Feeding only two? Make less. I find a half to three-fourths of a ham steak makes a reasonable amount for two. (Two normal people - I make more for the husband. He inhales these things).

I modify it a bit by using a home made mayonnaise. The stuff out of a jar really makes me want to hurl, so I make my own. Yes, this does involve using raw egg. But, I know where my eggs come from, and I know the birds are healthy. I wash the eggs myself. It's not for everyone, but, I prefer it.

This really is an easy dinner that can be thrown together in a half an hour or less, while half-dead. And at least in this household, it produces squeals of delight. Give it a try. Warm mayonnaise never tasted so good.

Trying Harder

Chad Smith, guest blogger for BNO this month, says we all should blog, writers especially. He suggests that blogging is more than just catharsisim (is that a word? the spell checker doesn't think so) in action; it is a way to practice craft, push yourself as a writer, and expand writing skills.

I happen to agree.

So, I'm trying harder. There's no reason to not. And, though I won't post any of my fiction work here (I'd rather see it in print than randomly up on my blog), I can still push myself to communicate more effectively. And maybe even try not to use adverbs on occasion. :)

And really, it is better than just 140 characters at a time.