Kelsey Timmerman's Blog, page 41

Review: Redshirts by John Scalzi

Since I’m working on a book about the global food economy, my mind is so full of food books it has indigestion.

I’m on a tight deadline so I really needed an excuse to read something else. The release of John Scalzi’s new book Redshirts was that excuse for two reasons: 1) John is a friend (and my favorite blogger) who lives near my childhood home in Ohio. 2) His books are always action packed and hilarious.

Redshirts was like Gas-Ex to my farting brain. (That’s a compliment.)

If you’ve ever watched Star Trek you know that a dude wearing a red shirt is going to die on every away team. But as John points out, if you made it on the Enterprise, you must not be some slouch. He tells the story of the doomed redshirts as they compare notes and try to figure out just why it is that they are always dying while the captain, first officer, and chief medical officer always live to explore the universe another day.

This book is more meta than a butt with a tattoo of a butt with a tattoo of a butt and so on. It’s not meta in a bad way, but meta in a fun and hilarious away.

I’ve never read a book in which I more expected the characters to knock on my front door at any moment. It’s not just the characters felt that real, it’s that the laws of the Redshirts universe are that mind altering.

One of the reasons I love John’s writing is that it seems to be 90% easy-flowing dialog. He avoids flowery descriptions or telling you what his characters are like. Instead, the characters bump into one another and their surroundings and we see how they act, feel, and die horrible deaths by man-eating worms.

I’m not a Trekkie by any means, but I’ve watched my fair share of the original Star Trek and The Next Generation episodes, and watched at least half of the movies. Some familiarity with Star Trek is required to get the maximum amount of enjoyment out of Redshirts.

If you don’t know the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars, this book isn’t for you. I don’t think this will limit the Redshirts audience that much. In fact, Redshirts is already on the New York Times Bestsellers list. (Congrats, John!)

For me, Redshirts was a timely reminder that reading should be fun. Redshirts was more fun than a meta butt tattoo and I highly recommend that you read it.

—

To buy Redshirts: Indiebound / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Powell’s

What if you didn’t speak English?

If I didn’t speak English, I couldn’t show up in nearly any village in the world and find someone to act as my translator.

Given that, I wouldn’t have met any of the people who made my clothes, or the people who grow our food, and I wouldn’t have a career telling stories. I wouldn’t receive invitations to speak in Peru. If I only spoke Spanish or Mandarin or any other language, who knows what I would be doing?

I wouldn’t be able to go to almost any website and have the option to view it’s contents in my language.

I would struggle to find my way around most airports.

I wouldn’t be able to have the vast reading choices that I have. Each year more than 550,000 new books are published in English.

1 in 5 people on our planet speak English to some proficiency and the other 4 likely want to learn English. I’ve me people on my travels who have never been to school who speak a little English.

The fact that English, my native language, is the most recognized global language doesn’t make me superior, it makes me lucky. This is something that all English speakers need to remember.

I’m traveling to China in August. China is perhaps one of the least English-friendly countries I’ve visited. Menus and streets signs are mysteries. I’ll rely on countless strangers to help me navigate my adventures. No doubt, in a moment of weakness, I’ll curse the lack of English at some point, but the experience will be an important glimpse of what it’s like to move through a world that doesn’t speak my language. I’ll only have to get by for less than two weeks and then it’s back to English Land.

To this day one of my biggest regrets from college is not learning another language. But, again, I’m lucky that I speak English.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like for non-English speakers to move through a world of English?

I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in Muncie, Indiana, my hometown, and not speak English. Sure the occasional ATM offers an Espanol feature, but most Hoosiers, like me, don’t.

What other languages do you speak? Share a time that you were in a country that didn’t cater to you?

Dear ExPat Dude, Thanks for Leaving

You can’t miss the Dude’s wife. She’s got it and by it I mean a combination of plastic and animal tested beauty products filling out and shining up her slender yet curvy frame. She’s a model 20 years his junior.

I shared a plane with the dude. We shared an airport shuttle. We share a homeland, but that’s about it.

On the bus he told me that he was in finance and chose to leave. He said something like, “Things were going to shit in the United States. Money is fleeing. If you knew what I know you would leave too.”

I complimented Colombia, the country I had spent the past two week in and the woman’s homeland. The people were lovely and so was the landscape. I talked a bit about the Arhuaco Indians and how they were holding onto their culture. She smiled and seemed happy to hear such nice things about home. Her nice smile was in contrast to everything about her post mid-life crisis dude (although I’m note sure the ownership goes that direction). He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and his skin is the color of cholesterol. As primped and perfect as she is, he’s a slob.

“I live in Panama now. No damn high taxes. The U.S. is going to shit. I live in a 10th story condo…” this isn’t an exact quote, but you get the idea. He rambled on about the adjectives describing his fabulous apartment and tax benefits before talking about the Panamanian people.

“Panamanians are lazy and ignorant idiots! A week doesn’t go by that I don’t have to pay a bribe.”

He showed interest in my work, which was nice, but he’s everything I write to prevent.

There’s more to a country and to life than building your bank account. There’s wealth other than dollars and cents, like friends and values and respect. Dude, If you simply measure the United States by your ability to make money and not pay taxes, thanks for leaving.

We don’t want you.

I’m guessing you will never find a place you like because you treat people like shit.

I feel sorry for your lovely wife, but I’m happy that you got the hell out of my country.

Make Random Happen

I wrote this post last week in Lima, Peru.

His name was Didier. He spoke a little English and I spoke a little Spanish. We met briefly at EARTH university in Costa Rica where I was working as a banana worker. He asked what I was doing in Costa Rica and I told him about my Where Am I Eating project, including my upcoming trip to Colombia to research coffee.

“My family lives in Nariño a region famous for coffee.” He said.

We talked for 15 minutes, maybe.

Two months later I was strolling down the streets of his hometown, El Tablon de Gomez, beside his father Ladardo and his two sisters. I ate one of their guinea pigs. I spent three days with his family. They introduced me to coffee farmers many of whom sold/had sold the labors of their work to Starbucks.

Fifteen minutes, that’s it.

—

I’m in Peru. How, I have no idea?

Sure, I know that I was invited by Universidad San Ignacio de Loyola, but it’s not like I’m getting requests to speak in South American on a regular basis. I have a book in the world and a blog too. Sometimes each of them finds interesting characters all over the world who drop me a note. But a speaking request in South America? I was puzzled.

I just accepted it.

—

In 2009 I spoke to a room full of students at WTAMU. I was invited by a fabulous professor named Melody Loya. She was super nice. We grabbed some lunch. She showed me the campus. She used WEARING in her class and we kept in touch. I think my visit ended with a hug.

Two years later WTAMU selected my book as their freshmen common reader. Instead of speaking to a room full of students, I talked to a stadium full of students most of whom had read my book. Amy Andersen and Kendra Campbell helped me put my regalia on… in the men’s bathroom. When we walked out we were cracking up. The year before Elie Wiesel was their common reader/convocation speaker. They didn’t’ accompany him to the bathroom.

Afterwards, I drank wine with James Hallmark, a Dean at the university.

We exchanged travel stories.

—

“Kelsey, I hear I got you a gig in Peru.” James and Amy via Facebook both took credit for recommending me to a former colleague who teaches at Loyola now.

That’s how the university flew me to Peru to speak with their students with a two week layover in Colombia to stay with Didier’s family. That’s right I got my plane ticket paid for, and then some. Traveling the world and writing books doesn’t pay loads so you have to get creative.

Make Random Happen

Life seems so random. The more people you talk and laugh with and simply enjoy the ride alongside the more random life becomes.

Talk to people. Enjoy each other. Learn from each other. Make random happen.

Right now as I look our from my hotel room at the city of Lima, I’m thankful for the randomness of my life. More than that I’m thankful for Didier, his dad Ladardo, their family in El Tablon de Gomez, and for Amy and James.

I’m also thankful for Bobby and Katie of Fair Trade USA who I spent an amazing three days with visiting the Ahuacan people in northern Colombia. The randomness continues….

Where has random taken you?

Coming to a Starbucks near you!

I planted this coffee plant in a farm that provides Starbucks with coffee. In about two years you might be drinking some Kelsey-planted coffee.

From my notes:

I gently place the plant into the ground and cover it up, patting it like I’m putting it to bed.  In this valley surrounded by volcanoes and sweeping vistas, where you damn near can see Ecuador, where the adjectives that come to mind first all seem to be swear words (___ beautiful), my plant looks so defenseless and small.  But tiny little plants like mine planted throughout Colombia, have shaped the lives of the people here every bit as much as the volcanoes have shaped the landscape.

Homesick

Celebrating Mother's Day (Picture by Kira Childers)

I’m homesick.

The wheels of the plane just lifted off American soil, myflight nosing toward Bogota, and I’m already missing my wife and kids. Actually the homesickness began long before that. As soon as a trip is confirmed, the homesickness begins.

This is the 3rd to the last night I’ll give the kids a bath.

This is the 2nd to last night Annie and I will plop on the couch and watch whatever it is she wants to watch (except Dateline, which is about the biggest load of horse crap show there is) as long as I get a foot rub.

This is the last night Oreo, our cat, will chase me around the house in the dark attacking my feet  as I switch off the lights.

Homesickness involves a lot of sadistic math.

This isn’t a new feeling. My eyes watered at scout camp when I was 12, and sometimes at a friend’s house when, after a fun day of play, I wanted nothing more than to be tucked into my own bed. I muffled the sobs when they came. At camp I heard the other boys crying. We wallowed in our awayness together.

I suppose being away from those you love is part of growing up. Ultimately we face the world as individuals. We make our own careers, pursue our own passions, we find our own way. Homesickness helps us find our way back to what matters most in our lives.

How do you explain to your daughter that you are going to be away for two days, let alone a month? My daughter Harper, 3, has a skewed grasp of time. Everything in the past is yesterday or yesternight. I try not to hold her too long or too tight as I soak up those last moments before a trip. I don’t want her to think my leaving is sad. One tear on her cheek would melt me faster than the Wicked With of the West.

And then there’s Griffin, my one-year-old son. Does he even wonder where I went?

Harper started nursery school today. Griffin might be walking by the time I get back. Leaving is a reminder that life goes on without you. That your world minus you still turns.

If you aren’t homesick you are either traveling with those who matter most to you or you haven’t experienced what it is to truly give your heart to another. I’ve been traveling solo for more than a decade and my homesickness is just getting worse. Having children is like having little pieces of your heart wondering about the world.

I kill off myself a lot more in my daydreams these days. I no longer imagine I’m invincible. My number one priority with every trip is to return. This is for the unselfish reason that I want my kids to have a dad and my wife to have a husband, but it’s also for the very selfish reason that I want to be my wife’s husband and my kids’ dad.

I couldn’t do what I do today in 2001. I’d be too homesick.

My first travel experience was in 2001. There was dial-up Internet phone calls and email. Today, there’s Skype. I can see and hear Griffin. I can watch my family smile. I don’t think I could travel the way I do as a dad in 2012 if it weren’t for all of the technological connections.

Why the hell do I do this?

Why do I put myself and my family through this?

Man, I love what I do. I love meeting people and learning from them. I love meeting families. I can think of so many fathers who I deeply admire – Josephat in Kenya, Wycliffe in Nicaragua, Juan in Costa Rica, to name a few. I love being able to share their stories with the world.

This writing and traveling life that I live means most of the time I get to be at home all day with my family.

Homesickness is a strength

In a way, my homesickness is a strength. I love the idea of home and when folks let me into their world and into their families, I’m honored. The more homesick I am the more I can empathize with them.

Each night I get an email when Annie activates our home alarm system. They are safe and sound. I imagine Griffin in his crib, his tiny breaths audible in the baby monitor. I imagine Harper fighting bath time and bed time. The bed time/bath time routine is exhausting until I miss one night of it, and then I miss it more than anything.

Homesickness is blowing kisses thousands of miles

Last night I taught Harper South.

“Every night I’m gone, blow a kiss South….like this. And I’ll blow one North to you. No matter where I am in the world we can always say goodnight to each other.”

Damn, writing this is making me even more homesick. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I seem to have something in my eye.

Celebrating Mother's Day (Picture by Kira Childers)I’m ...

Celebrating Mother's Day (Picture by Kira Childers)

I’m homesick.

The wheels of the plane just lifted off American soil, myflight nosing toward Bogota, and I’m already missing my wife and kids. Actually the homesickness began long before that. As soon as a trip is confirmed, the homesickness begins.

This is the 3rd to the last night I’ll give the kids a bath.

This is the 2nd to last night Annie and I will plop on the couch and watch whatever it is she wants to watch (except Dateline, which is about the biggest load of horse crap show there is) as long as I get a foot rub.

This is the last night Oreo, our cat, will chase me around the house in the dark attacking my feet  as I switch off the lights.

Homesickness involves a lot of sadistic math.

This isn’t a new feeling. My eyes watered at scout camp when I was 12, and sometimes at a friend’s house when, after a fun day of play, I wanted nothing more than to be tucked into my own bed. I muffled the sobs when they came. At camp I heard the other boys crying. We wallowed in our awayness together.

I suppose being away from those you love is part of growing up. Ultimately we face the world as individuals. We make our own careers, pursue our own passions, we find our own way. Homesickness helps us find our way back to what matters most in our lives.

How do you explain to your daughter that you are going to be away for two days, let alone a month? My daughter Harper, 3, has a skewed grasp of time. Everything in the past is yesterday or yesternight. I try not to hold her too long or too tight as I soak up those last moments before a trip. I don’t want her to think my leaving is sad. One tear on her cheek would melt me faster than the Wicked With of the West.

And then there’s Griffin, my one-year-old son. Does he even wonder where I went?

Harper started nursery school today. Griffin might be walking by the time I get back. Leaving is a reminder that life goes on without you. That your world minus you still turns.

If you aren’t homesick you are either traveling with those who matter most to you or you haven’t experienced what it is to truly give your heart to another. I’ve been traveling solo for more than a decade and my homesickness is just getting worse. Having children is like having little pieces of your heart wondering about the world.

I kill off myself a lot more in my daydreams these days. I no longer imagine I’m invincible. My number one priority with every trip is to return. This is for the unselfish reason that I want my kids to have a dad and my wife to have a husband, but it’s also for the very selfish reason that I want to be my wife’s husband and my kids’ dad.

I couldn’t do what I do today in 2001. I’d be too homesick.

My first travel experience was in 2001. There was dial-up Internet phone calls and email. Today, there’s Skype. I can see and hear Griffin. I can watch my family smile. I don’t think I could travel the way I do as a dad in 2012 if it weren’t for all of the technological connections.

Why the hell do I do this?

Why do I put myself and my family through this?

Man, I love what I do. I love meeting people and learning from them. I love meeting families. I can think of so many fathers who I deeply admire – Josephat in Kenya, Wycliffe in Nicaragua, Juan in Costa Rica, to name a few. I love being able to share their stories with the world.

This writing and traveling life that I live means most of the time I get to be at home all day with my family.

Homesickness is a strength

In a way, my homesickness is a strength. I love the idea of home and when folks let me into their world and into their families, I’m honored. The more homesick I am the more I can empathize with them.

Each night I get an email when Annie activates our home alarm system. They are safe and sound. I imagine Griffin in his crib, his tiny breaths audible in the baby monitor. I imagine Harper fighting bath time and bed time. The bed time/bath time routine is exhausting until I miss one night of it, and then I miss it more than anything.

Homesickness is blowing kisses thousands of miles

Last night I taught Harper South.

“Every night I’m gone, blow a kiss South….like this. And I’ll blow one North to you. No matter where I am in the world we can always say goodnight to each other.”

Damn, writing this is making me even more homesick. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I seem to have something in my eye.

Simon Tatum will blow your mind

“Hello.”

“Hello, Kelsey, this is Simon Tatum. How are you jolly ol’ chap?” (Simon is British and I don’t think he actually says jolly ol’ chap, but that’s what I hear.)

“How’s life in Hollywood?” I ask, back home in Muncie, Indiana, where it’s almost dinner time.  I have spit up on my shirt and I may or may not have pee on my pants.  I’m not an invalid; I have kids, which is close to the same thing when you think about it.

“Well, Kelsey, that’s why I’m calling you.  I’m shooting a pilot. Would you be interested in being in it?”

This was in November and I was traveling out to LA to meet Amilcar. “Tell me more.”

“It’s a show about this former con man turned magician, Matt the Knife.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Oh and I should probably tell you this:  You will choose one of three guns, one of which is loaded, hold it to Matt’s head, and pull the trigger.  The worst thing that can happen is that you blow out Matt’s brains and are scarred for life.”

[Pause]

“Kelsey..?”

“I don’t really see the upside here, Simon.”

The show’s taping didn’t work with my schedule because it would have cut my time with Amilcar short by about 24 hours, and, as it turns out Amilcar had a pretty big story to tell me. I’m not sure I would have done it anyhow.  But the show must go on.  Simon found someone else to participate in the magic trick.

You can see the results in the trailer below.

‘Mysterium’ Promo 2012 from Simon Tatum on Vimeo.

Simon is a fascinating bloke, who had worked with Michael Caine, Helen Mirren, Johnny Depp, Ridley Scott, and Tim Burton, and on moves like Harry Potter and The Corpse Bride by the time he was 25. How he’s turned his abilities to making nonfiction films like the Last Freak Show that will blow your mind.

Simon was recently interviewed on www.therisinghollywood.com. You should read the interview so someday when everyone has heard of Simon, you can win some cool points by being familiar with the early mind-blowing work.

Autographed books & reviews

Get an autographed copy of WEARING

I was riding my bike through Ball State’s campus yesterday. After working the morning at the library, I stopped in at the campus Barnes & Noble bookstore and signed their stock of Where Am I Wearing? So, if you are itching for a signed copy of the new edition of the book, there’s about 20 there.

To order a copy call (765)285-8080. Make sure you tell them that you want an autographed one.

A little help, please

Apparently Amazon doesn’t transfer reviews from one edition to the next. So instead of having 27 reviews, the new edition of WEARING has 2. Bummer. Could you help me with that?

Reviews matter. Think about when you are shopping for a book on a subject. Do you buy the book with 2 reviews or 200?

If you have read WEARING, the 1st or the 2nd edition, please consider leaving an honest review. Here is the new edition’s Amazon page.

For other ways to support my work or the work of your favorite author read this post: Show the Love! How to Support Your Favorite Authors

You’re $100 away from making your own dream job

I get asked all the time, but I have no idea how many countries I’ve been to. It’s probably somewhere around 60.

One thing is for sure; it’s way fewer than Chris Guillebeau. The dude is going to EVERY country and he’s just a few away from being done.

When I first heard about Chris’s goal – travel to every country on the planet – I rolled my eyes. What value is there in popping into a place for a day or two? In some countries it takes me that long to work up the nerve to cross the street. I’m more of author Tim Cahill’s philosophy: “A journey is best measured in friends and not miles.”

But instead of writing Chris off as a globetrotting country counter, I visited his blog. I saw what he was doing. Chris is living the life that he wants to live, chasing down his goals with focus and determination, and more, he’s helping others reach their goals too.

My goal isn’t to travel to every country in the world, or to start a fashion line, or to open a coffee shop, or to help people beat debt, but all of these things are goals of people Chris has inspired.

Chris has traveled countless miles and has countless friends to show for it. Chris has shown me that it is possible to measure a journey in miles and friends.

Today Chris’s new book The 100 Startup: Reinvent the Way You Make a Living, Do What You Love, and Create a New Future launches. Chris introduces us to a cast of characters who have done everything the subtitle promises.

Here’s how Chris describes it:

If you want to create more freedom and security for yourself through a “very small” business, the skills and the money you have are all you need. Don’t wait!

I was lucky enough to receive an Advanced Reader’s Copy of The The 100 Startup. It is full of stories of people rubbing the sleep out of their eyes one morning and taking a new direction. Now of course, it’s not that simple. So through the examples of these unique entrepreneurs and his own experiences Chris walks us through everything from pricing, marketing, and how to afford health insurance. You need to know this stuff to succeed, but before that you need inspired.

The The 100 Startup is where inspiration meets rubber-on-the road business advice.

Before you do anything you need to start. What are you waiting for?