G. Russell Overton's Blog, page 5
April 14, 2017
Paper vs. Digital
For the second time in a blog, I'll disclaim that I am an old guy -- mid-fifties. To some that may be ancient and to others that may still be chicken. Either way, I'm old enough to remember stepping out on the front porch every morning in my bathrobe to retrieve a rolled up newspaper.
It was a morning routine I have struggled to replace in the new world order. Everything else is still pretty much the same: alarm, pee, make coffee, (this is where retrieving the paper used to fall), pop a slice of oat bread into the toaster, orange juice, pour coffee, and butter toast.
The next step used to be reading the paper. Now it's check email, Facebook, CNN, Washington Post, NPR. It used to take a good hour or so to read the paper and sip coffee. Now I've checked all the credible news sources within about fifteen minutes, and I still have three cups of coffee left in the percolator.
Yes, I use an electric percolator. I'll save that for another blog post. Anyway, so what do I do with the next hour and fifteen minutes? I'm not awake enough yet to read anything too challenging and won't be until I have downed two more cups of extra thick, dark roast. I miss a real newspaper.
When I'm traveling, the hotel often "gives" away a complimentary paper newspaper. In a nostalgic moment I pick it up, start to read, and, bam, ten minutes later I realize it's the same crap on the websites. I still have an hour and fifteen minutes to kill. Those days have gone with the milkman.
Maybe I should fill that time with writing blog posts.
https://bluewatertales.com.
It was a morning routine I have struggled to replace in the new world order. Everything else is still pretty much the same: alarm, pee, make coffee, (this is where retrieving the paper used to fall), pop a slice of oat bread into the toaster, orange juice, pour coffee, and butter toast.
The next step used to be reading the paper. Now it's check email, Facebook, CNN, Washington Post, NPR. It used to take a good hour or so to read the paper and sip coffee. Now I've checked all the credible news sources within about fifteen minutes, and I still have three cups of coffee left in the percolator.
Yes, I use an electric percolator. I'll save that for another blog post. Anyway, so what do I do with the next hour and fifteen minutes? I'm not awake enough yet to read anything too challenging and won't be until I have downed two more cups of extra thick, dark roast. I miss a real newspaper.
When I'm traveling, the hotel often "gives" away a complimentary paper newspaper. In a nostalgic moment I pick it up, start to read, and, bam, ten minutes later I realize it's the same crap on the websites. I still have an hour and fifteen minutes to kill. Those days have gone with the milkman.
Maybe I should fill that time with writing blog posts.
https://bluewatertales.com.
April 12, 2017
Technology
Even though I’m an old guy, I try to keep current with technology – to a point. There are aspects of current technology that have certainly made my professional life easier and more productive. Some things I can do with modern technology that no one was ever able to do in the past. I think data management and imaging tools are probably what has revolutionized my world the most. I hated phones in the days when everyone had a landline and no one, except rich people and secret agents, had mobile phones. I hate phones more now, but find myself tethered to my smart phone like it’s my right butt cheek.
There are times I catch myself mindlessly poking at the screen without any apparent reason. I check mail, check the news, check the weather, check Facebook, check bank balances, on and on. It’s like my Dad with cigarettes. I remember him lighting up a cigarette while he still had one going, just because the habit of doing so dictated his actions. I think smart phone addiction is akin to tobacco addiction for one primary reason, the concept of instant gratification. I can poke that screen with my finger and in an instant a really cool picture shows me how far away the next snow squall is. A few moments later I need another fix, so I check the news to see what shenanigans President Asshat is pulling. I’m so infuriated by his latest pussy-grabbing antic that I have to, imperatively must, post my outrage on Facebook. Fifteen minutes later I have to check Facebook again to see how many likes, comments, reactions there are. In a half hour I need to see how that snow squall is progressing. The cycle continues.
At times I get so disgusted with myself that I just set the damned phone down and vow not to touch it unless it rings. When it does ring, the caller is from 1-800fuckyou to say “Congratulations!!! You have won blah, blah, blah.” OK, maybe I’m being a little hyperbolic, but this is how it feels.
I travel frequently with my job, so I can’t completely disconnect or put the phone down. Often, my phone is my only connection with clients and colleagues. I can check and respond to e-mails and texts while dashing through an airport, hoping I don’t trip on the moving sidewalk while typing a hurried message.
Because I am an old guy, I am one of those people that refuses to deploy text language. I refuse to type things like “U R gr8.” I just can’t, won’t. Besides, my finger is quick, and I can type “you” quicker than most people can type “U.” I think that comes from my speed on a conventional keyboard.
Mom insisted that I take typing in high school. I was one of three boys in the class. All the girls had just finished shorthand and typing was their next step in preparation for a secretarial career. Mom certainly had no intentions of me wearing a pink collar to work, but I think she was intuitive enough to know that keyboard skills were going to become a necessity for everyone. To this day, when I see someone typing with just an index finger I smile and silently mutter a “thank-you Mom.”
www.bluewatertales.com
There are times I catch myself mindlessly poking at the screen without any apparent reason. I check mail, check the news, check the weather, check Facebook, check bank balances, on and on. It’s like my Dad with cigarettes. I remember him lighting up a cigarette while he still had one going, just because the habit of doing so dictated his actions. I think smart phone addiction is akin to tobacco addiction for one primary reason, the concept of instant gratification. I can poke that screen with my finger and in an instant a really cool picture shows me how far away the next snow squall is. A few moments later I need another fix, so I check the news to see what shenanigans President Asshat is pulling. I’m so infuriated by his latest pussy-grabbing antic that I have to, imperatively must, post my outrage on Facebook. Fifteen minutes later I have to check Facebook again to see how many likes, comments, reactions there are. In a half hour I need to see how that snow squall is progressing. The cycle continues.
At times I get so disgusted with myself that I just set the damned phone down and vow not to touch it unless it rings. When it does ring, the caller is from 1-800fuckyou to say “Congratulations!!! You have won blah, blah, blah.” OK, maybe I’m being a little hyperbolic, but this is how it feels.
I travel frequently with my job, so I can’t completely disconnect or put the phone down. Often, my phone is my only connection with clients and colleagues. I can check and respond to e-mails and texts while dashing through an airport, hoping I don’t trip on the moving sidewalk while typing a hurried message.
Because I am an old guy, I am one of those people that refuses to deploy text language. I refuse to type things like “U R gr8.” I just can’t, won’t. Besides, my finger is quick, and I can type “you” quicker than most people can type “U.” I think that comes from my speed on a conventional keyboard.
Mom insisted that I take typing in high school. I was one of three boys in the class. All the girls had just finished shorthand and typing was their next step in preparation for a secretarial career. Mom certainly had no intentions of me wearing a pink collar to work, but I think she was intuitive enough to know that keyboard skills were going to become a necessity for everyone. To this day, when I see someone typing with just an index finger I smile and silently mutter a “thank-you Mom.”
www.bluewatertales.com
April 10, 2017
A Safe Harbor
The concept of a safe harbor leads mariners to think of a place to take refuge in a storm. It’s the place where a ship can be moored securely from the ravages of a battering wind and crashing waves. A captain and his crew can rest in comfort down below while hailstones and heavy rain bombard the vessel.
Last summer Bill and I rode out such a storm in our home port at Douglas, Michigan. It was early on a Saturday morning, and we had just fixed coffee and a bagel. The companionway hatch opens to the west and while I stood down below looking out, sipping my coffee, I noticed the sky growing darker and darker. The clouds went from charcoal grey to blue-black. I could see the clouds swirling and dancing as they rolled off Lake Michigan with constant flashes of lightning keeping them lit.
We checked the weather on our mobile devices and the marine radio. The National Weather Service only confirmed what my eyes told me was coming. I waited until the heavy drops began to fall before putting up the companionway boards. Within a moment the boat tossed and rolled violently and hail and heavy rain pounded the hull. Sirens and an alert warned us that a tornado was passing not quite a mile inland, but we stayed dry and safe.
The whole time I knew we were in the safest place we could be. The nearest building was the marina building, which is an aluminum clad pole structure – the sort of place that could be characterized as tornado bait. We have good dock lines and are well protected from high waves on Lake Michigan. The only real concern in a storm like that is lightening. One strike could shoot down the aluminum mast straight to the leaded keel. Even still, the fiberglass hull is a good insulator.
Saugatuck and Douglas, two communities nestled around a wide spot in the Kalamazoo River, called Lake Kalamazoo, is a safest of harbors. It is a good place to be when a storm like that hits, but it is a safe harbor for other reasons. It is on the far west coast of Michigan, due west of Grand Rapids, and just south of Holland and Zeeland, better known as Betsy DeVos country. Yet Saugatuck and Douglas are good old fashioned, liberal, progressive, leftist communities. They are home to some of the finest art galleries, and, as far as I’m concerned put places like Provincetown to shame. They are the kind of communities where hate, prejudice, and xenophobia are unwelcome. They are where Bill and I can walk hand in hand without fear or concern. It is no small wonder that Saugatuck/Douglas is annually voted one of the best places for a vacation.
http://www.saugatuck.com/index.asp
https://www.bluewatertales.com
Last summer Bill and I rode out such a storm in our home port at Douglas, Michigan. It was early on a Saturday morning, and we had just fixed coffee and a bagel. The companionway hatch opens to the west and while I stood down below looking out, sipping my coffee, I noticed the sky growing darker and darker. The clouds went from charcoal grey to blue-black. I could see the clouds swirling and dancing as they rolled off Lake Michigan with constant flashes of lightning keeping them lit.
We checked the weather on our mobile devices and the marine radio. The National Weather Service only confirmed what my eyes told me was coming. I waited until the heavy drops began to fall before putting up the companionway boards. Within a moment the boat tossed and rolled violently and hail and heavy rain pounded the hull. Sirens and an alert warned us that a tornado was passing not quite a mile inland, but we stayed dry and safe.
The whole time I knew we were in the safest place we could be. The nearest building was the marina building, which is an aluminum clad pole structure – the sort of place that could be characterized as tornado bait. We have good dock lines and are well protected from high waves on Lake Michigan. The only real concern in a storm like that is lightening. One strike could shoot down the aluminum mast straight to the leaded keel. Even still, the fiberglass hull is a good insulator.
Saugatuck and Douglas, two communities nestled around a wide spot in the Kalamazoo River, called Lake Kalamazoo, is a safest of harbors. It is a good place to be when a storm like that hits, but it is a safe harbor for other reasons. It is on the far west coast of Michigan, due west of Grand Rapids, and just south of Holland and Zeeland, better known as Betsy DeVos country. Yet Saugatuck and Douglas are good old fashioned, liberal, progressive, leftist communities. They are home to some of the finest art galleries, and, as far as I’m concerned put places like Provincetown to shame. They are the kind of communities where hate, prejudice, and xenophobia are unwelcome. They are where Bill and I can walk hand in hand without fear or concern. It is no small wonder that Saugatuck/Douglas is annually voted one of the best places for a vacation.
http://www.saugatuck.com/index.asp
https://www.bluewatertales.com
April 9, 2017
Blue Water
You might wonder why I named my author's website "bluewatertales.com." I think it's catchy and cool, but more importantly it reveals a lot about me personally and me as an author. Those who know me, know that I am passionate about sailing. In the warmer months I sail a modest sloop on Lake Michigan. I am a water person and am always drawn to marine life. A fantasy will be fulfilled when I live in a sleepy coastal town with a good harbor. By coastal, I preferably mean Great Lakes coast, but Maine, Nova Scotia, or Oregon would do nicely. I could go for a Caribbean island, but I would sorely miss winter.
My passion for all things marine carries into most everything else I do. Readers will likely notice some kind of aquatic subtext in most of my stories. The character Joe Kelly, in Running by Night, was a sailor like me. Rodrigo Mendoza, in Particularly Dangerous Work (to be released in June), was a rowing champion. I am toying with an idea for another piece of historical fiction set in the early 1800s on the Great Lakes.
So, tales about blue water pretty much tells a person who I am and something about my stories. Be safe. Keep warm and dry, unless you are lucky enough to be standing on the deck of a fast moving sailing ship when a mist of spray breaks over the bow!
https://bluewatertales.com
My passion for all things marine carries into most everything else I do. Readers will likely notice some kind of aquatic subtext in most of my stories. The character Joe Kelly, in Running by Night, was a sailor like me. Rodrigo Mendoza, in Particularly Dangerous Work (to be released in June), was a rowing champion. I am toying with an idea for another piece of historical fiction set in the early 1800s on the Great Lakes.
So, tales about blue water pretty much tells a person who I am and something about my stories. Be safe. Keep warm and dry, unless you are lucky enough to be standing on the deck of a fast moving sailing ship when a mist of spray breaks over the bow!
https://bluewatertales.com
April 8, 2017
New Adventure
Pinch my nose, scrunch down, spring, splash! The water is a little chilly, but I'll tough it out. I've known for some time that I needed to start a blog, but resisted because it all seemed so strange. Looking at others' blogs, though, made me realize that I've been doing it for years now, rather a form of Facebook blogging.
Yes, I am one of those people who post all too frequently on Facebook. A lot of what I post is political. I'll try to avoid that here (no promises). I post humorous things, photographs, some personal events and such, though I am not one to post every time I lance a boil.
My hesitation in starting a blog was the commitment issue. My calendar is always overflowing, and adding one more thing to do each day scares the hell out of me. I finally realized that if I can find time to post all the crap I do on FB, I can do it in this venue just as well. So maybe I'll post a little less on FB and a lot more here. Maybe keeping a formal blog will keep me more focused on writing. In any case, this is a new adventure. I'm anxious to see who comes along for the ride.
While you're here, check out my new website dedicated solely to my literary career: https://www.bluewatertales.com
Cheers!
Yes, I am one of those people who post all too frequently on Facebook. A lot of what I post is political. I'll try to avoid that here (no promises). I post humorous things, photographs, some personal events and such, though I am not one to post every time I lance a boil.
My hesitation in starting a blog was the commitment issue. My calendar is always overflowing, and adding one more thing to do each day scares the hell out of me. I finally realized that if I can find time to post all the crap I do on FB, I can do it in this venue just as well. So maybe I'll post a little less on FB and a lot more here. Maybe keeping a formal blog will keep me more focused on writing. In any case, this is a new adventure. I'm anxious to see who comes along for the ride.
While you're here, check out my new website dedicated solely to my literary career: https://www.bluewatertales.com
Cheers!
