social media away message

I posted a version of this on Facebook this morning.

CLARIFICATION

I don’t hate any one person.
I don’t hate any group of people.
I don’t hate any demographic.
I don’t hate.

I feel angry.
I feel hurt.
I feel concerned — not for myself, not for any religious institution, not for so-called “religious freedom,” but for non-white, non-gender-binary, non-straight, non-legally-protected –> READ: non-*privileged* people, a majority of whom went to bed last night and woke up this morning utterly terrified.

In accordance with my daily-challenged faith, I will state my belief that Jesus is Lord of all, even this whole debacle.
But I will not forget that He was also Lord during the Dark Ages, the Spanish Inquisition, the Trail of Tears, the Holocaust, ETC. His being in control does not mean we humans don’t find a host of absolutely horrific things to perpetrate against one another.

His being in control does not excuse any of us — especially those of us who claim to follow Him — from doing everything we possibly can to prevent those horrific things. Including keeping other humans out of power who perpetuate those horrific things.

I feel sad.
I feel love.

I live out Love.

RELATIONSHIPS

Some of you are aware of my heavy heart after a former long-time friend unfriended me a few days ago over this whole debacle.
Some of you will call me a hypocrite because I unfriended someone over this whole debacle.

This difference is that I didn’t attack or question the faith of the one who unfriended me.
The one I unfriended was never more than an acquaintance, and he attacked me and questioned my faith.

I don’t need that kind of unhealthy connection in my life.

I want to retain connections in which I exchange life (Life) with others.

I’m not sure that’s a sustainable thing via Facebook.

There’s more to all this. But I don’t have the words right now. If I find them, I’ll holler.

VACATION

I am taking a social media vacation. It will last at least until the New Year.

I will pop onto FB to manage my author page (facebook.com/courtcanwrite/). But I don’t plan to interact there on my personal account.

I won’t be checking private FB messages. If you want to contact me, please email if you have my email address, text if you have my phone number, comment on my author page, or comment on my blog.

Until further notice, I’ll be interacting on Twitter (@courtcan) only to promote my books and talk about writing.

My main reasons for this vacation (from Facebook) are that I’m tired of being personally attacked, I’m tired of having my faith questioned by people who know little to nothing about my daily life or my beliefs, and I’m tired of providing a space where people I love and respect bicker with, yell at, and aim “friendly fire” at each other (necessitating my intervention).

I’m just weary. And this isn’t helping the depression I’m still in treatment for.

I love you all.

Facebook ya in January. Maybe.

 

In the meantime though, I’ll for sure be blogging here. Stay tuned!

a #talesfromblackfriday short story

Hidey-ho, lovelies!

Today is so-called Black Friday here in the good ol’ USA, and I have many opinions about it. I shan’t delineate them all here. All I’ll say is that I’ve never participated in Black Friday, and I never plan to.

Also, I wrote the following short story, the tone and content of which should tell you enough plenty about my Black Friday thoughts. 😉

So. Here ya go. Happy reading!

Oh, and I wrote this story in a series of tweets. Because Twitter’s kinda my thang.

BOOYA.

blackfriday

When You Look This Good, Nobody Cares If You’re Murderous

by Courtney Cantrell

I stumble into a crowd of shoppers. They brandish hand mixers like pitchforks. Unholy light flickers in their eyes.

Atop a La-Z-Boy display, a man in Target red screams, “THE SPECIAL BEGINS NOW. MAY THE PRICES BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR.”

With yips and barks, the crowd surges forward. They carry me with them. A man goes down under a sea of trampling feet. Someone’s mixer tangles in my hair, pulling me into a nightmare aisle of pink and Barbie.

I have no mouth, and I must scream.

In their shiny boxes, the Barbies turn to look at me. “WE GIRLS CAN EAT ANYTHING,” they chorus, blood in their teeth.

Whimpering, I lunge away. A woman grabs my arm and swings me toward the Barbies. “They just want to play, dear.” Her eyes are big and blue and flat. Painted on.

Like the dolls’ eyes.

I try to pull away, but she pushes me into the Barbie boxes. A cascade of inarticulate limbs and blond hair washes over me. I fall to the floor. Inside their boxes, the Barbies claw at the clear plastic. Their fingers are razor-sharp talons, shredding plastic. Those talons slash toward my face. Toward my eyes.

“WELCOME TO #BLACKFRIDAY,” say the Barbies.

Moving jerkily, a Ken doll crawls into the mêlée. Followed by another Ken. And a third. They’re attached to each other.

KENTIPEDE.

Baring bloody, point-filed teeth, the Barbies whisper in chorus, “MEIN LIEBER DREI-KEN.”

I scramble backward. My back hits somethng solid. I look up. Life-size Santa doll stares down at me with solid black eyes.

“CHRISSSTMASSS ISSS COMING, PRECIOUSSSS,” says Santa. Maggots squirm from his lips. “I SSSEE YOU WHEN YOU’RE SSSLEEPING.”

Darkness closes in. I feel the Barbies’ teeth and claws sink into my flesh. There’s the stampede of shoppers’ feet as each clamors for their portion. “BEST DEAL,” cries the Kentipede. “90% OFF LONG PORK.” Barbies giggle.

The crazed retail vultures descend on me, slavering. “HAPPY HOLIDAYSSS,” hisses Santa. I hear discordant jingle bells.

Then, nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

THE END

#AMEDITING CHICKEN

No real blog post for you today, my beauties. Because:

This could be an Editwock.

This could be an Editwock.

As one is wont to say on Twitter, I #amediting. Feast your peepers:

  • I’m on the FINAL EDIT!!!!! of The Dying of the Light (Legends of the Light-Walkers, #3) (formerly known as Legacy, formerly known as Legend’s Heir), my epic fantasy story of Rafe Skelleran (formerly known as Esau Skelleran, formerly known as James Moore, formerly known as Travis).
    This book has been through a lot. It will be glad to get away from me. Projected pub date: JUNE 30.
  •  

  • Tomorrow, I plan to submit my short story “Requiem for the Milk of Wisdom” to the Author Strong short story contest. It needs a final once-over, then I’ll be ready to let it fly from the nest. Hopefully it will return home with a contest win under its belt. Or at least an olive branch.

I’m also helping prep for this weekend’s celebration of my grandparents’ 75th wedding anniversary. BANGERANG. A lovely occasion to honor lovely people alongside many other lovely people. I’m looking forward to all the hoopla, but it most def makes for a busy week!

And so, instead of watching Agents of SHIELD and folding laundry as I had planned, I shall now away to bed.

Toodles!

what happened during my twitter break

Hi loves.

Now that I type that, I want to go back and a rewrite it “Hi loaves.” As though y’all were bread. Yummy, squishy, fresh-from-the-oven bread…mmmmmmm….

Okay. Getting weird now.

Anyway. Hi. I recently took a Twitter break. There was stuff on Twitter, and people were angrier about it than usual, and I’m dealing with a lot of my own blurglemamjufloobelschnitzen right now, so other people’s helter-skelter emotions were more than I wanted to futz with. So I took a Twitter break and got into a happier place (although the blurglemamjufloobelschnitzen is still very present) and drank tea and did yoga and binge-watched Netflix’s Daredevil, which is cramazing and WHY AREN’T YOU WATCHING IT.

*eyes you suspiciously*

*coughs*

But while I was on my Twitter break, I collected a series of blatherings that I would’ve tweeted had I been tweeting. I shall now share those blatherings with you. I might or might not editorialize upon them as I go. Some of these will appear on Twitter because I want to share them there. It’s my blog and my Twitter account. I can do that.

*eyes you suspiciously*

What Happened During My Twitter Break

I want a nerd cave.

Toddler: What did Donald Duck do?
Me: I’m not sure. I can’t think of where you would’ve seen him.
Toddler: No. I never met him before.

I don’t talk a lot about my faith here. But one thing I’d like to say: “High Church” has done the world a disservice by painting women into a powerless, subservient, subjugated role for the past two millennia. I just read The Day I Met Jesus etc by Frank Viola & Mary DeMuth. Whether you’re a believer or an atheist, this book challenges what you think you know about what the Bible, especially the New Testament, says about women. I dare you to read it and not find something that surprises or even shocks you.

“Women…were the first evangelists.” –@frankviola & @marydemuth

I grew up in a Christian household…and it’s only now, rereading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader as an adult, that I realize the book contains a conversion experience complete with immersion (baptism) for the forgiveness of sins. Forest for the trees….

When you reach behind the couch to unplug your laptop and plunge your hand into a spider web. #no

If you consistently drive 5-10mph below the speed limit, I don’t understand you.

Also, when you speed up as I’m trying to pass you, I am, indeed, talking smack at you from the safe confines of my cafr*.

I am become an hummus addict.

It’s funny how I can tell a European by how she writes the date. 15. 12. 2012. And judging by the 1s, she’s German.

St. Booger and all the saints at the backside door of purgatory, y’all. It’s MORSE code, not Morris. Morris is a CAT, for crying out loud.

I never saw Affleck’s Daredevil, but the Netflix version looks scrumptious. Ahh, Netflix. How can you do this to me? Don’t you understand I have a life beyond your gooey deliciousness?

The business side of writing is not for sissies.
I am trying really hard not to be a sissy.

Toddler: What kind of man are you?
Me: I am no man! …I’m a woman.
Toddler: Are you a mama woman?

Sometimes I forget how to girl. I paint my nails and then go mess with tinfoil. #ruinedmanicure

Toddler dumps milk onto table, pats the puddle: I made my hand!
Me: No. That’s not nice.
Toddler: I made a ghost. I made an elephant.

“I like to have space to spread my mind out in.” Virginia Woolf

I really seriously do need to read more Yeats.

What? What ridiculously delicious and decadent dark chocolate cake? I don’t know what you’re talking about. 😉

I appreciate that she likes to clean things. I don’t appreciate that she intentionally dumps her drink out so as to have something to clean. #toddlerlife4eva

Pie. #Supernatural

Inability to go back to sleep after waking too early, YAY! That’s my FAVORITE!!!
#lying

If you follow me on Pinterest, please forgive yesterday’s overabundance of #Supernatural pins. I’m jonesing to start Season 10. #cantstandit

Toddler: Are you fond of me, Mama?

This is not for you.

All I gotta say is, when H&M opens in Oklahoma City, those clothes had better look European.

Pb&j with a dab of honey in the center. #comfortfood

Some days, when I watch a great show or read a great book: “Wow, I’m so inspired! I’m gonna go write and be awesome like *that*!”
Other days: “Wow. That was such awesome writing. I’ll never be able to write like that everything I write is crap why should I even bother….”
*sigh*

I really thought science would’ve delivered unto me a new set of sinuses by now.

*Yes. My cafr. While I drive, I drink my corffee.

The Starship Enterprise and a Break from Social Media

Yesterday I posted this to Facebook / tweeted this to Twitter:

So…I decided a few days ago that I need a social media break. It’s starting at midnight, it covers Twitter and Facebook, and it will likely last a week.

notweetingI need this for several reasons, the main one being that I desperately need to finish my work-in-progress, the much-neglected Elevator People. Social media is a wonderful tool for connecting, sharing, horizon-expanding, giving, receiving…but it is also a fantabulous time-suck. I need to see if spending my social-media time on my novel instead will help me finally finish the darn thing.

Furthermore, Twitter and FB have been the sources of a lot of OUTRAGE over various and sundry of late. And I’ve let myself join in on it. Yes, there are many things that SHOULD engender outrage. Injustice and cruelty, illogic and conspiracy. Incomprehensible chaos…. I don’t want to hide from it all, because I recognize the importance of participating in the story of the world, even if that story is sad and gruesome and despicable (usually the sparks of the outrage). Social media is part of living in the future, and I want to be part of that.

But.

All the outrage is contagious. All the outrage is addictive. All the outrage, and I throw myself into it, and my blood pressure rises, and my spirits sink, and I can’t get away from all the pleading voices that clamor for my attention. I can’t think my own thoughts, I can’t feel my own feelings beyond the MUST REACT TO CONVICTIONS AND SOMEONE IS WRONG ON THE INTERNET!

nofacebookingI need to think, need to breathe. I need to be in my own head and heart and in the my-life that I can touch with my fingers and smell and taste. I need to rediscover what it’s like to hear see read feel imagine something and not immediately reach out and tell the worlds about it. I need space…the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise…. #kidding #notreallykidding

I need to live my life without status updates and hashtags for a while.

So I’m taking a break. I’ll miss y’all. I’ll have withdrawal symptoms, and I’ll wonder what I’m s’posed to do with myself.

Maybe I’ll blog. ; )

Maybe I’ll finish my book. Maybe I’ll write poetry. Maybe I’ll have apostrophes. I mean, epiphanies.

But whatever happens, I know for certain it will be good.

I’ll leave you with one final thought, and then I’m going dark. I’ll see y’all on the other side.

INVISIBLE ZOMBIE SPIDERS. FBthumbsup

Sweet dreams!

I own a banana slicer. And I am not ashamed.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I took a day and instead of tweeting, just emailed myself everything I would’ve tweeted. I did this knowing I would eventually blog it all. I don’t know why. There’s no particular goal of this, just the fact that the blog is a laboratory and I get to mush stuff together on it and see what goes kablooey.

So here are my tweets, including the stuff I would’ve re-tweeted (RT). Make of the mess what you will.

kablooey1

Stereoscopic vision really freaks me out sometimes.

It is not a happy thing when the baby eats a dead bug. *SIGH*

RT @lecrae: Peace doesn’t mean you won’t have problems. It’s means problems won’t have you.

HEY I JUST MET YOU, AND THIS IS CRAZY
BUT LET’S TELL RIDDLES AND I’LL EAT YOU MAYBE.

(I tweeted this one after all. Had to.)

(I tweeted this one after all. Had to.)

RT @scalzi: Most nerdy t-shirts just don’t seem that clever to me anymore. Clearly, my next t-shirt should read WHY ARE YOU ON MY LAWN

Your choices change the direction of other people’s lives. You are not isolated.

RT @AdviceToWriters: There’s a word for a writer who never gives up: published. JOE KONRATH
#amwriting #publishing #writing

RT @BenHoward87: If you see a centaur, remember it is not your friend. It is a mythical creature and as such does have the capability for rational thought.

Sometimes you just gotta take a few minutes and shave your legs.

Me too. RT @YMinisterswife: Sometimes I am compassionate. Sometimes I am not.
I am working on it.

This floor is messing with my head.
tilefloor

RT @PassiveVoiceBlg: Misguggle http://t.co/h8dCtF0HCM

RT @BenHoward87: Peanuts cartoons + Morrissey lyrics = the hilarity of existential despair http://t.co/DkfxO50Kw6

I am in my favorite place in the entire universe. Walmart checkout. #notreally

I’ve been beta-reading things for people lately. Good to work on #amwriting stuff, even if it’s not mine.

RT @LeVostreGC: Thou: subjecte. Thee: objecte. Thy: possessif (:thyne, yf yn front of a vowel). Now thou knowst, and the knowinge ys wel half of the battel.

Trying to clean my carpet with baking soda and vinegar.
baking soda and vinegar carpet

I own a banana slicer and I am not ashamed.

Remember when Scully wore shoulder pads?

Remember when desktop monitors were the size of anvils?

RT @pattonoswalt: Be a warrior, that your son may be a doctor, and his son a poet, and his son a podcaster, and his son a resentful Libertarian.

Remember when we couldn’t Google anything?

RT @LeVostreGC: Siri, wher ys the horse and the ridere? Siri, wher ys the horn that was blowinge?

.@LeVostreGC Wher in the worlde ys Carmen Sandiego?

Remember when payphones?

Just so you know, Kinesio-taping your stomach to pull your abs together is not for sissies. #diastasisrecti

That awkward moment when you look in the mirror and there’s an ant crawling in your hair.

It occurs to me that I haven’t performed a solo in 7 years.

Rain. Thunder. Contented. Sigh.

RT @BenHoward87: If I blame everyone alive for all the things that have happened in existence, will the internet still have a reason to exist?

How to Burn a Pitiful Omelette

Burnt Omelette in 10 Easy Steps

Ingredients

2 eggs
1 tbsp canola oil
1 skillet
1 stove burner, heated

Directions

1. Place skillet on heated burner.

2. Crack both eggs into skillet. Add canola oil.

3. Scramble eggs (because scrambled eggs are what you intended to cook in the first place).

4. Walk away.

5. Sit down at computer and look at Twitter.

6. Smell something funny.

7. “Run” to kitchen (except that you can’t run because you’re 39 weeks pregnant and everything hurts).

8. Observe “pitiful omelette” smoking in skillet in place of scrambled eggs.

9. Scrape pitiful omelette into trash can.

10. Repeat from Step 1, omitting Steps 4-10.

Insomnia + Twitter = Random

This post is really for those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter and, therefore, don’t get the pleasure of perusing the oddities that spew from my thumbs when I can’t sleep (which is happening more and more often of late). But those of you who do follow me might appreciate having the recent randomness collected in one place, so here it is. Enjoy. ; )

Two Whats of Twitter

1. RT = retweet

When someone tweets something I want to share with my followers, I “retweet” that person’s tweet. This means that my followers will then see the tweet with “RT” and the original Twitterer’s handle attached to it.

2. Hashtags

A “hashtag” marks keywords in a tweet and is preceded by a #. So if I tweet about writing and tag the tweet with #amwriting, my tweet will appear listed with other #amwriting tweets if someone clicks on #amwriting. Hashtags help categorize tweets and make it easier to find information on a certain subject.

Just for fun, some of us like to make up hashtags that no one is going to be searching for. A popular, “legit” hashtag is #firstworldproblems ( = frustrations with luxuries available only in First World countries). In one of my recent tweets, I made up the hashtag #literaturenerdproblems, which no one will be searching for, but it made me giggle as a play on #firstworldproblems.

So. There, dear inklings, is your brief “Twitter 101” for the day. Now you’re ready for the #tweetsomniac weirdness!

@courtcan’s Insomniac Tweets

Oh. Hi, insomnia. Fancy meeting you here. #donotfancyatall #goaway

Hi, I’m Courtney, and I’m a tweetsomniac. #Twitter #insomnia

That sad moment when you have a new interaction on Twitter and realize that you tweeted at yourself. #firstworldproblems

.@JoshuaUnruh “Holy cats” is “heilige Katzen” in German. In case you wanted to start using that.

When you’ve gestated 37.5 weeks, random contractions that just peter out into nothing (instead of turning into true labor) are #notfair.

Tweeting isn’t helping the insomnia. #amwriting wouldn’t help either, but I am sorely tempted to get out of bed and do some.
(For the record, I didn’t.)

Yesterday on Facebook, my dumb phone autocorrected “rood” to “roof.” #literaturenerdproblems

I think The Who’s “Love, Reign O’er Me” is one of the most beautiful songs ever. #music

Aw, now that’s just sad. RT @val_q: Things He Says to Hurt Me #2: “Claire Danes and Jared Leto? What show was that?”

I used to want to be an archaeologist too! RT @YMinisterswife Today I shall embark on an adventure I call “toy box excavation”.

Someday, I really want to throw a surprise birthday party for the next #random person to enter the public restroom.

Also of a good story. RT @CHRISVOSS One very important ingredient of success is a good, wide-awake, persistent, tireless enemy. -F Shutts

RE previous RT: Your story is only as strong as your antagonist. Discuss. #amwriting

I have gephyrophobia. #abouttheauthor #random

#insomnia has taught me that my usual suspects on Twitter are not awake at 5:30am CST. #firstworldproblems

With reservations as delineated by @barryeisler in comments, I added my name to NoSockPuppets. http://nosockpuppets.wordpress.com #NSPHP #amwriting

Look, Ma — no sleeps. #insomnia *sigh again*

‏Are u one of my family members who posts awkwardly personal updates about ur romantic life on Facebook? Please don’t tell anyone.
–@ApiarySociety, retweeted by @courtcan

#insomnia #frustrations #feelingpitiful #readytohavealegitreasonforsleeplessness #legitreasonequalsbaby *sigh*

I cannot describe the depth of my disappointment the day I discovered that #fantasyfootball has naught to do w/ elves, trolls, and dragons.

I grew up as an American in Germany. We weren’t military. Pretty sure our phones were tapped during the ’80s. #TCK #adventures

If you didn’t know: #TCK = #ThirdCultureKid = originates in one culture, grows up in another, assimilates them into 1 unique culture.

#TCK advantages: extreme cultural adaptability, flexible personality, independence, broadened horizons, heightened empathy.

#TCK disadvantages: adjustment difficulties, commitment issues, rootlessness, frustration w country of origin, never fitting in anywhere.

For me, #TCK advantages far outweigh disadvantages. I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

I should blog about this. #TCK

Being pregnant is like having eaten the biggest meal of your life & feeling crazy stretched & bloated, but w empty tummy. Also, epic boobs.

#insomnia = #lackoffilters #tweetinginappropriatethingsatsixam

I’ve been reading “Night of the Iguana” by T. Williams. So far: Nymphos = 1, nubiles = 2, lechers = 1, natives = 2, iguanas = 0.

So many blogs with headlines like “This Is Why Your _________ Is a Failure.” <-- Define failure?! Maybe the struggle is just part of growth. Also a spiffy scarf. RT @LukeRomyn: Don't buy roses or chocolate, get her a tank of gas. My phone is dying. Probably a sign I should try sleeping again. Later, y'all. #insomnia

Freddy Mercury, Painting, and Ennui

Because I’ve had an icky evening (READ: pregnancy is not for sissies), and I haven’t the fortitude for delving deeply into anything, here are a few thoughts on current events both local and not:

Olympics 2012 Closing Ceremonies

º I know I picked up on the meaning of many of the elements because I’ve spent most of my life in Europe.

º I had no clue of the meaning behind many of the other elements.

º This go-round wasn’t as moving as the Opening Ceremonies, but I still enjoyed watching.

º George Michael could tone down his vibrato a bit, but I was still disappointed that he didn’t sing more than one song.

º The members of the apparently newish boy band whose name I’d never heard of and now can’t recall all look like Justin Bieber.

º Whoever that girl was, she’s no Freddy Mercury.

º The giant puzzle-piece John Lennon face was pretty cramazing.

º Also, regarding the last Olympic event I watched this morning: Basketball players are quite tall.

Writing

º I didn’t work on the Rethana’s Surrender sequel this weekend.

º Friday night, I woke up at 4:30am and didn’t go back to sleep until 7:30am. (Yes, I still count that as Friday night. Hush.) At 5:30am, my brain delivered the first line of a new sci-fi short story: “The joke was sleek, fast, and deadly.” And in the next sentence, a woman dies a particularly bloody death.

Accordingly, with the little time I had Saturday morning, I started writing the story. I wrote more than a page. I’m still not sure just what The Story of the story is, but the title shall be “The Joke’s on Us.”

If I can’t figure out where it’s going, the joke will definitely be on me.

º I’m also feeling an urge toward poetry. It’s been a long time since I’ve written any, and I suspect I’m overdue. Once upon a time, I wrote 15-20 poems per year. Now, I might do two. That’s what happens when you turn yourself into a fulltime novelist, I guess. But I shouldn’t neglect the poetic aspect of writing. It affects the noveling in good ways. I shouldn’t forget that.

Politics

 

Media

º Multiple times per day, I check Twitter and Facebook.

º I don’t know if I’m just desensitized or dejected or what, but recently, my internal reaction to both media has been, “I’m bored.”

º Recently, my internal reaction to the intarwebz has been, “I’m bored.”

º Lest you think this were a reaction to my commitment to blogging every day — as in, I’m blogging every day and so am simply dazed with the amount of time I’m spending online — I’ve had ennui regarding the internet for quite awhile now. There just doesn’t seem to be much to do online.

º Maybe this is a feeling I need to follow. I would certainly get more writing done if I did.

Art

º I miss painting. I’ve had a concept in mind for a painting for over a year, and what with cover art and other projects, I haven’t had time to put that idea to canvas.

º Now, considering the 8-months-pregnant tummy, I can’t sit down to paint anymore. And I’m too tired to stand up to paint.

º So will I ever get to paint this picture I have in mind?

º Since I haven’t been able to paint, I’ve been playing with my phone camera and self-portraits. I leave you with one of my current favorites. Please do click to embiggen for the details!

Against the Grain

Your Blog Is a Big, Friendly Dog

Once upon a time, blogger Judy Dunn and I had several exchanges concerning the concept of a blog as a lab.

Here we go again…

No, no, no. As you’ll see if you click through that link above, I don’t really mean that a blog is a big, friendly (and apparently put-upon) dog. What I mean is that a blog is a laboratory where you get to make a splendid mess in an effort to see what happens when you mix a bunch of stuff together that most people wouldn’t dream of mixing together.

My Latest Blogging Dog Experiment


          
I don’t know why this idea popped into my head.

Well, that’s sort of a lie. I’m pretty sure that this idea popped into my head because I subscribe to sci-fi writer John Scalzi’s blog “Whatever”. Mr. Scalzi blogs every day. This triggered in my head the thought:

Now, the part I honestly don’t know the because for is the part where I think I might be able to do this just because I see Mr. Scalzi doing it.

I guess it’s because of reasons, yet again.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Ooh aah. I deserve bananas.

So. I shall embark upon an experimental adventure: For the month of August, I shall attempt to blog every day.

Because I obviously don’t have enough to do and I am a crazy person.

I don’t know what shall come of this, if anything. Maybe it will result in things most glorious. Maybe it will serve only to highlight my lack of an inkling of a conceptual hypothesis of reality. Maybe it will break me forever of stringing together prepositional phrases.

Zounds.

So, we’ll see. Josh has indicated that he might consider joining me in this venture, though I have yet to hear from him a definite yea or nay. On Twitter, @AstridBryce has offered me incentive as follows (click to embiggen!):

My dearest, most darlingest readers, prepare yourselves for pulchritudinous cramazingness.

Or a zombie-ish apocalypse.