I used to be a writer. Not a day would go by that I didn’t at least fill in a handful of pages in my journal, write an hour or so on one of the big projects, or (an some people call this cheating,) working with students to whom I am teaching writing skills. Then my daughter thought I needed to join the 20th century. She says eventually I might even be ready for the 21st century. So she gave me a nook loaded with 60 books and a gift card for probably another 30 books. And an ipod touch loaded with enough music that I think I could go a month without listening to any song twice as well as a few dozen games and other apps. And a portable video player and the offer of the loan of any of her several hundred videos. And a new cell phone with unlimited texting and web access. I think I may have written a word or two since our Yuletide party.
Oh, she also gave me a couple new journals and several pens. I think they’re still in the back of my car. With the amount of entertainment technology now in my pocket, and the amount of time I spent playing with it all, I now see why there is so much of a decline in old fashioned reading and writing and math skills in the students I tutor. When I speak with a kid the first time, I give them the rules. Number two, no electronics. Phones off. Not on silent. OFF. I don’t even let them use a calculator. I insist they learn to add and subtract, something most high school students can’t do. Eventually I even teach the need to have basic multiplication fact memorized. By basic, I mean up to 13 times 13. Nothing I wasn’t forced to have memorized by the time I was eleven, yet most college students I work with haven’t got a clue how to do without electronics. But now that I am addicted to so many little toys, I was telling myself that I may have to loosen up a little.
But them I remembered how much I haven’t written in the past month. Nope. Not giving my students any slack. I am going to have to stop giving myself so much slack as well.
Starting tomorrow.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Pens
They say the pen is mightier than the sword. So I must be the mightiest of all. I carry a few dozen pens with me at all times. Like the scene in Alice in Wonderland with the Mad Hatter, when I get stuck while writing, I call out, “Clean cup! Clean cup!” and switch to a different color pen. There are times when I have written half a dozen pages with one color. But there are also times where I have written one page in half a dozen colors.
Plus, there is nothing like a full color illustration to get the writing juices flowing. I also like matching the color to the mood of the piece I am writing. Dark red ink for a bloody, gory scene, pink or pastels for a more lighthearted scene. It helps keep me on track with the feel of the piece I am trying to write.
Oh, I use them for other things, too. Like teaching math. I use a different color to show how things work. Graphs use at least four pens when I color code the lines to the equations and that sort of thing. And it’s great to use different colors to show the correlation of sine to tangent, for example.
I have heard that many students are developing a fear of the color red. Face it, there is nothing worse than getting a paper back from the teacher covered in red ink. So I correct their papers in different, random colors and purposely try to avoid red.
Or when I am designing a new quilt, knitting or crochet pattern, it helps to have the design done in the colors I plan to use, or to use different colors for each design element.
I could go on with the reasons I carry so many pens, but we don’t have all day. And the truth is, I just like pens. So all I can say is, “Clean cup! Clean cup!” Time to move on.
Plus, there is nothing like a full color illustration to get the writing juices flowing. I also like matching the color to the mood of the piece I am writing. Dark red ink for a bloody, gory scene, pink or pastels for a more lighthearted scene. It helps keep me on track with the feel of the piece I am trying to write.
Oh, I use them for other things, too. Like teaching math. I use a different color to show how things work. Graphs use at least four pens when I color code the lines to the equations and that sort of thing. And it’s great to use different colors to show the correlation of sine to tangent, for example.
I have heard that many students are developing a fear of the color red. Face it, there is nothing worse than getting a paper back from the teacher covered in red ink. So I correct their papers in different, random colors and purposely try to avoid red.
Or when I am designing a new quilt, knitting or crochet pattern, it helps to have the design done in the colors I plan to use, or to use different colors for each design element.
I could go on with the reasons I carry so many pens, but we don’t have all day. And the truth is, I just like pens. So all I can say is, “Clean cup! Clean cup!” Time to move on.
Resident Ghost
My house is haunted. Not that it worries me. The ghost is the one who convinced me to buy it. She can be troubling at times, but she usually just wanders around, drinking her coffee and teasing the dogs. Then there are the times when she is very helpful. Like the time, shortly after I moved in, when I woke up in the middle of the night because the dog was barking. I stumbled out of bed, still half asleep, and made my way out to the living room. I caught a whiff of coffee, my first sign that the ghost was around. I didn’t drink coffee. After eleven years, I have gotten so used to the smell of coffee, that I finally started drinking coffee. Then I noticed a glow. As I tried to wake up, it turned into a woman, dressed in a white bathrobe and holding her usual steaming coffee mug. She was waving at my daughter’s dog, who was barking. The dog turned around and put his paws on the windowsill. That’s when I noticed the window was open.
She can be a bit of a nag sometimes. Like last summer, I forgot there was a stack of newspapers sitting on the piano when I took out the recycling. It was raining and I didn’t want to go out to the curb again, so I said I would take them out next week. Well, next week I forgot again. It was a bright, warm evening, so I had no excuse when I again said I would take them out next week. Yes, I often talk to myself although if anyone asks, I am talking to the dog. I had just sat down on the couch and picked up my knitting when a movement caught my eye. As I watched, the stack of newspapers slid across the last few inches and fell off the piano. I got up and took them out.
So when I got a virus on my computer last week, my computer guy asked for the original program disks so he could wipe my computer and reload the programs. I went to the drawer where I keep such things. I found every disk for every computer and every program I ever had since, well, since computers were invented. Every one except the program disks for my laptop. I searched everywhere. I dug through stacks of fabric in my sewing room. I flipped through every book (all 2000 or so of them) and every video, DVD and CD.
Have I ever mentioned I have floor to ceiling shelves in every room, including the bathroom? And my bedroom “closet” is now a built-in bookshelf? Every inch of those shelves is filled to overflowing with books and other media. After two days of frantic searching, I gave up. I even told my cats so as I poured cat food into their dishes. And as I emptied the scoop into the last dish, I caught a whiff of coffee and the door to an armoire where I store board games opened and the program disks fell out.
I only wish I knew her name so I could thank her properly.
She can be a bit of a nag sometimes. Like last summer, I forgot there was a stack of newspapers sitting on the piano when I took out the recycling. It was raining and I didn’t want to go out to the curb again, so I said I would take them out next week. Well, next week I forgot again. It was a bright, warm evening, so I had no excuse when I again said I would take them out next week. Yes, I often talk to myself although if anyone asks, I am talking to the dog. I had just sat down on the couch and picked up my knitting when a movement caught my eye. As I watched, the stack of newspapers slid across the last few inches and fell off the piano. I got up and took them out.
So when I got a virus on my computer last week, my computer guy asked for the original program disks so he could wipe my computer and reload the programs. I went to the drawer where I keep such things. I found every disk for every computer and every program I ever had since, well, since computers were invented. Every one except the program disks for my laptop. I searched everywhere. I dug through stacks of fabric in my sewing room. I flipped through every book (all 2000 or so of them) and every video, DVD and CD.
Have I ever mentioned I have floor to ceiling shelves in every room, including the bathroom? And my bedroom “closet” is now a built-in bookshelf? Every inch of those shelves is filled to overflowing with books and other media. After two days of frantic searching, I gave up. I even told my cats so as I poured cat food into their dishes. And as I emptied the scoop into the last dish, I caught a whiff of coffee and the door to an armoire where I store board games opened and the program disks fell out.
I only wish I knew her name so I could thank her properly.
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