Jo Robinson's Blog, page 118
May 5, 2013
The Versatile Blogger Award
Anyone taking enough notice of you to nominate for any sort of award is most cool indeed. So, on the understanding that champers is cool with Sunday breakfast as long as it’s splashed with orange juice, here goes my surprisingly short acceptance speech. I would like to say thank you very much to Patinspire, who nominated me. Finding her blog site was one of the nicest things that have happened to me on our lovely world wide web. Her daily words of inspiration have often been just the ones that I’ve needed when things weren’t going to plan. Her dedication to helping people in all aspects of her life is inspiring in itself. I totally recommend that you pop over to her site whenever you need words of wisdom, or just a warm and welcoming place to be.
Rules of The Verstile Blogger Award, should you choose to accept it. You don’t have to if you don’t want to:
1. Display the award logo on your blog.
2. Thank and link back to the person who nominated you.
3. State seven things about yourself.
4. Nominate fifteen bloggers for this award.
5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination by linking to one of their specific posts so they get notified by pingback.
Seven Things About Jo Robinson
1. I’m absolutely terrified of worms. I’ll quite happily deal with most dangerous or scary creatures, but worms have me running for the hills.
2. I’m obsessed with being on time, can’t stand people who are late for no good reason, and being late for anything myself for whatever reason freaks me right out. So…
3. I love any sort of cooking and baking, and have a pile of recipes that I’ve made up over the years. I used to cater on a small scale, and once catered a wedding of over a hundred people all on my lonesome. Nearly killed me, but I got applause, so that’s something anyway.
4. I have a collection of obscure medicinal herbs, and I know how to use ‘em.
5. I’m addicted to B grade movies, the older and sillier, the better. Space operas are often visited.
6. When I was younger I used to pretend to be a lot thicker than I am, to avoid getting confused for a “boffin” = nerd.
7. I’m clumsy and tend to gesticulate a lot. I once bashed a stranger on the noggin with a boxed swingball set perched on my shoulder, when I swung around without looking first. Being sixteen at the time, I ran like hell and held thumbs he made it.
I’ve come across some brilliant blogs since I’ve been doing this. Some I just stalk because I love their content, and some I’ve made friends with. I would love to pop all these links here, but I’m only going to share the Versatile Bloggers that I’m allowed to here now. I think that they are all awesome, some for inspiration, some for information, some for the strange but true, and one for always making me LMAO – there can be no other word in this case. And so, in no particular order.
My Fifteen Nominees Are:
Lost Civilisations and Dinosaur Dragons
The combination of a computer seemingly in the process of conking out, and my usual interesting internet connectivity issues, I’ve done pretty well in the temper tantrum department lately. I still have quite a bit to trawl through on my desk dinosaur and transfer to the laptop, so there’s a definite underlying sense of terror there that I’ll lose something. This last week every time I’ve tried to load up my actual Twitter page I’ve been confronted by a weird gobbledegook of text, so a few small falls there, temper wise. This morning I managed to actually open it properly, and so far my dinosaur hasn’t rebooted itself once. Calm prevails, and no innocent passer by is likely to have his ears assaulted by foul Irish curses.
That’s the thing though. My Irish heritage is only the half of it. I had eight aunts and two uncles on my mother’s side of the family alone, which kind of negated the aura of virtuous innocence my granny liked to project. My grandfather was six foot four inches of carrot topped Irish terror, and within the gaggle of cousins there was always some sort of feud going on. Family get togethers generally started out with a lot of loving it up, but invariably ended with some sort of verbal brawl, especially after Uncle Cedric got down towards the bottom of his bottle of single malt. My dad died when I was six, my mom got together with an Italian guy, and he brought his rowdy lot into the fray. I had a loud childhood. Tantrums were normal. So you can see now how absolutely brilliant I am by controlling my unavoidable temper gene, and being so wonderfully accepting and tranquil. I’m humble also. Really.
Yesterday I couldn’t hook up to any of my sites properly all day. A while ago this would probably have resulted in a computer being hurled out of the window, but now I see that there really isn’t any point to getting cross. I’ve done everything I can now, and this is as good as it’s going to get for me here and now. This internet is what it is. And if I fail to win friends and influence people because of it, it won’t be from lack of trying. So I sloped off with the horde to catch up on my Ancient Aliens again. Then I had a bit of time on my hands. So. I hope you’re comfy.
I don’t disagree that aliens have been visiting us. I don’t agree either. I do think that it might be wrong to credit aliens with all the major building work more than a few thousand years ago though. Who knows what sort of things happened here back in the mists of time. If you watch a series called Life After People you’ll see how quickly the trappings of a civilization will be obliterated when there’s nobody around to look after them. Apart from nuclear waste and rocks, not much survives over thousands of years. One thing that’s always struck me as weird is the fact that after six million years of human evolution, homo sapiens only popped up around two hundred thousand years ago, apparently never progressed very far beyond flint tools and arrows until a couple of thousand years ago, remained really thick even then, and then suddenly got incredibly “civilized” only in the last hundred years or so. I never believe anything I can’t actually look at myself, but if I do see something that exists, I don’t see any point in agreeing with “theories” about it that aren’t logical to me – I believe what I see, no matter how odd it may be. All of this eyeballing of ancient structures has me firmly believing that in Earth’s past there were hugely technologically advanced civilizations. What happened to them is another story. They all seem to have disappeared. Maybe they were wiped out by each other or climatic events, or even little green guys from the planet Zog. Who knows? But I will never believe that these mysterious ancient places were built by people wielding the simple tools that the experts of the day insist were used in their construction.
Ollantaytambo is one of those fascinating places where, as in many such sites around the globe, there is much more ancient construction under the top level of the structures believed to have been built in 1440 AD. These ancient structures are around 14 000 years old.
Slabs weighing fifty tons were cut out of a mountain face, moved down said mountain, over a river, and then fused together using some sort of really high heat source.
The stone in question is called Andesite – a pretty hard rock, and today would have to be cut using a very powerful tool. So I’m looking at these things, and wondering why I’m being told that this area was definitely only populated by hunter gatherers 14 000 years ago. It makes no sense at all. This was not done by a couple of muscly guys in loincloths with a couple of flakes of flint.
Then there are the ancient “Cart Ruts” on Malta – 10 000 years old. Ruts carved into the rock, consistently equidistant, that zoom around for metres in some places, and in others, miles. This can only have been used as some sort of rail system. Nothing else makes sense here either. Hunter gatherers moving their nuts?
Still on Malta you have more ancient temples, but a lot more fascinating is the underground structure.
I can’t imagine what approaching disaster made people all around the world head underground, but there literally are dozens of underground cities thousands of years old. And those are only the ones that have been found so far. There’s one at Derinkuyu in Turkey that’s a bit mind blowing.
It goes down several stories, can comfortably house 20 000 people and their livestock.
It’s beautifully constructed with storage rooms, winepresses, and pretty much anything I would want to be a happy camper.
There are perfectly designed ventilation shafts and huge stone sliding doors. These can only be opened from the inside, and each floor can be totally cut off separately. It really makes me wonder why such a large society would head underground and lock themselves in. Hunter gatherers hurling arrows?
It makes me think that if some terrible disaster were to take out most of our population today, and maybe only a few hundred people were left scattered around and about, their focus would be on physical survival. Within generations it’s very possible that their descendents wouldn’t be able to read or write, and maybe as the remnants of our civilisation mostly crumbled to dust, they’d go back to the wilds entirely. Languages would be lost forever, and those that survive will change. Anything is possible after all. In another ten thousand years they may have formed a completely new civilisation though, with new modes of building, transport, and power generation unrecognisable to us. Our computers, kindles, paper books, most housing and vehicles would all have degenerated and broken down by then. They would dig up a couple of interesting artefacts I’m sure, but probably not have too much of a clue what they were looking at. The huge events of our times, especially the one that took us out, would become legends, to be scoffed at and disbelieved by those far off future progeny of ours. The old rock structures at Tiahuanacu and other places around the world would more than likely still be around in ten thousand years, and maybe a couple the things we’ve built would still be too, but I doubt that they would give much indication of life as we know it today.
I don’t see any reason to believe that dragons didn’t actually exist either. Considering the shape of dinosaurs, and the fossils now being found proving that a lot of them had feathers. And the mystery of the collective unconscious, or instinct, or whatever you’d like to call it, makes these strange writerly visions seem like ideas, when really they’re just memories. So. Now you understand the lack of internet tantrums. Without it I head off to LaLa Land. A bit.
Till next time friends. xxx
May 2, 2013
Tell The Truth And Shame The Devil
I don’t suppose that really bad people think that they’re really bad. It occurs to me occasionally that I could be quite a horrible individual, and just not realise it. I don’t know what goes on in others minds, and equally nobody knows what goes on in mine. Nobody’s perfect, and I doubt that any person on their deathbed will say, “Well now. Wasn’t this trip just a bed of roses?” I know that I’m far from perfect. I make stupid decisions. When I lose my temper things generally don’t go well for me, so I try not to. I don’t always get it right, and I often get the wrong end of the stick anyway, so sometimes some poor soul gets a totally undeserved earful. This is a huge flaw in my character. Looking at your own faults is the most difficult thing to do. A few years ago though, the universe lobbed a couple of things at me. I tend to take notice of things being lobbed at me.
One of these things was a book called “The Road Less Travelled” by M Scott Peck. He was a psychiatrist who seemed to know not only the human brain, but quite a bit about the human soul too. He shows you how to confront and deal with life’s challenges, look within, and avoid avoidance. This book had a huge impact on me. It was like a massive slap in the face, directly followed by the most loving of embraces to make it better. That’s when I decided to try and live my life as simply as possible. I don’t mean simple as in eating lentils every day or going without things. My road to self realisation will never include giving up chocolate, champers, or some of my other slightly wicked habits. I meant to make my life simple by being honest with myself, accepting blame for things in my life that up to that point I had been blaming others for, seeing the truth in situations as best I could, and looking properly at every thing that came my way. Once you get over the actually quite painful process of looking back over every inch of your life, owning, accepting, and being genuinely sorry for the things that you have done wrong, and also accepting and forgiving the things that have been done to you, you find yourself in the most astoundingly happy place. Suddenly you don’t want to do anything wrong. You don’t want to inflict hurt on others, and you find yourself able to deal with any little thing that comes your way.
I’ve slipped a lot lately, I think, so I’m trying to haul myself back on to the peace train now. One thing I don’t do though, is lie. I like people to know that about me, and I really have very little time for people who do. Why waste a second of my life on a liar? The only time I’ll stretch the truth is if telling it would hurt someone. Otherwise, I believe that life is far too short to make up crap. I’m still working on turning the other cheek and controlling my temper. Got a long way to go with that one. I’m not ever going to go out of my way to be vengeful when someone hurts me, because I know that that’s a slippery slope, and these things always come back to bite you. At the same time, being a doormat is only going to get you stood on. You have to stand up for yourself. Without being nasty. You also have to have the courage to stand up for the things you believe in. I know that I’ll never be perfect. I’ll slip and fall. And sometimes I’ll do the wrong things. But I also know what’s good about myself. I try never to hurt and to always forgive. I hope I don’t sound like a pompous ass here. I’m just trying to say that that balances things out, because no matter how the world perceives me, I know that I’m coming from a truthful place, and that’s the only thing that needs to matter to me.
Till next time friends. xxx
Marian Allen Shows Me The Way
Marian Allen rose to the occasion and flexed some of the most buff, ripped, author muscle I have ever seen. Cool!!
http://www.marianallen.com/2013/05/2-may-slob-v-snob/
May 1, 2013
Figuring It Out
Completely ignored by constabulary at roadblocks from here to Harare and back again, I was unable to test my willpower in the spitting department, although the long trip did give rise to several new thoughts of other things I could try that are a little out of the ordinary, and possibly fineable. At this rate I’m sure to be arrested at some point. I got back late enough for the feathered horde to have taken themselves off to bed in a huff, and have been properly chastised this morning. I’m thinking that whoever made doves the spokescreatures for peace obviously never had any angelic looking birds as pets. Two inches of feathered rage can have a seriously painful effect on your earlobes. Having a big sleep doesn’t make them forget either. Little buggers.
One thing that I especially love about my monthly trips to Harare are all the new shops that always spring up around and about during my four week absences. Remembering the hunger and the sadness on the faces of the people so few years ago, now I get a real kick out of seeing those same faces laughing, munching down on fast food, and generally embracing and enjoying the new pleasures available. I hate seeing suffering. I always want to take hurt or broken people home with me and fix them. Yesterday, although I know that there really still is a lot of suffering in this country, I didn’t see a bit of it.
What I did find though, was a brand new book shop. Full of brand new books. I haven’t seen such a shop here in years, so I wandered around like an utter dork, mouth hanging open and drooling for far too long. This was also the first time that I’ve been into a bookshop since I started writing, so knowing what I now know, it was the most amazing feeling to pick up an actual paper copy of Hugh Howey’s Wool and flick through the pages. I check out his blog, watch his trip, and read his advice and opinions. He is one of those guys that makes a real effort to answer comments, no matter how busy he really must be. It was sorely tempting to buy piles of paper books because to me they were reasonably priced at $12, but I showed great restraint for once. I wondered if these authors even knew that their books were being avidly read by so many people in Zimbabwe, for many of whom a $12 outlay would be quite a big deal. Here these books will be treasures to be read, re-read, and passed around to many others who can’t afford the outlay at all. The unfairness of it all kind of hit me right between the eyes then. Us indies frantically trying to give our books away for free to people who don’t really want them, and then all of the thousands of less fortunate people around the world with three or four treasured books to last them a lifetime of reading, who would really love to have our books, but never will.
This writing trip has kicked up a notch for me in the excitement department after that. Now I realise just how very fortunate us indies really are, to be given the opportunity to be part of this great game. The joyful side of publishing has suddenly became real to me, regardless of the actual work involved in getting to your destination. African Me will be available in paperback at the same time that it goes live on Amazon, with a bit of luck, the fates being what they are, and all that. The very possibility of some reader guy sitting on a park bench in London, or Tennessee, or any other spot in the world, holding something in his hands that I made, reading words that I wrote, just blows me away.
I’m not sure what the shopkeeper thought, having some odd woman fondling Hugh Howey’s book, drooling a bit, and staring off into space, but people here are mostly gentle, kind souls, so she left me to my epiphany. I have nothing to complain about being an indie writer. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to even access Amazon, and plonk any bit of writing I want to on there. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to be able to market my book. Lucky to be able to even open Twitter – although that’s got more to do with the bastard internet signal. I’m lucky to have the time to write, without worrying about what I’ll eat for dinner. I’m lucky to have a computer to type my scribbles on. In the same vein, I’m lucky to be able to download hundreds of books, paid or free, and then leave them lounging unread, when so many would do so much to be able to read just one of them now and then, but will never have a chance to.
I won’t be complaining about any part of my trip. I now see it for the real gift that it is. Whether my book sells millions, or just one – to me, all the work getting it produced and marketed will be worth every minute spent. I will have published a book. And what a fantastic thing to have done that will be. Because somewhere, everywhere, there is another soul, more creative than me, sitting in some shabby, sad place, trying very hard to squish the silly dream he has of writing down the stories clamouring to get out of his head, because he knows that that’s a dream too high, and all that will ever be on his daily to do list will be survival. Gratitude, not whingeing, will be the order of my trip to the end. So indie guys, so.
Till next time friends. xxx
April 29, 2013
Shopping List
I won’t be around tomorrow. I doubt that any sensible words will be written by me until Wednesday at least, as will probably be illustrated if you read on. Really. I do mean that. There are important things on my mind. It’s epic monthly shop day again tomorrow, and today is pretty much gone with preparations for this vital venture. Essential mental preparation also has to be undertaken for the possible things that I could be doing wrong, but I think that this time no fault can be found to warrant handing over all my cash in fines. My nemesis. The fire extinguisher that came with the car was the wrong colour and replaced, but I can’t remember which colour that was, so both red and blue are nicely tucked in now, just in case. Said car is gleaming to within an inch of its life, and the long sand road to the tar will be inched over, to avoid a $20 fine for driving a dirty vehicle. The weather forecast has been checked. The newly, and gleefully acquired list of spot fine values has been deeply studied and tucked into the console.
I’m not paying a penny more than I have to this time. I see now also that I will have to refrain from spitting in or out of the vehicle, and thereby avoid a fine of $5. It’s never occurred to me before to spit anywhere, least of all in or out of a car window, but gross as it is, now that I know I’m not allowed to… Well… I imagine that at some point somebody must have actually spat inside their car and been seen by an appalled officer somewhere, or there wouldn’t really be any point to making it a fineable offence. Not wearing your seat belt is also $5, so, right up there with the gobbing as far as danger is concerned. Probably if you aimed it at the driver’s eyeball, and hit your target, it could very well be very dangerous. If I was that driver you would indeed be in quite a substantial amount of danger at that point. And Lord knows what could happen if you aimed such a ghastly missile into moving traffic, or at an innocent pedestrian ambling along, unknowing of the bitter fate that awaits him, to the corner store to buy a bag of chips.
I wish I could stop thinking about this now, but like one of those horrible songs you hear in elevators, and then can’t stop humming all day, the possibilities as a result of such a truly diabolical, terrible deed just keep coming. I might write a book. A tale so wondrous and literary, while at the same time down to Earth enough to impassion lovers of Archie comics, and tastefully flecked with romance, that I will instantly be shot to superstardom, riches, and adulation the world over. Well. I did say. So….
Till next time friends. xxx
April 28, 2013
Cold But Exciting
I hardly ever wear shoes when I’m at home. I’m quite fond of the feel of the grass under my feet, so I don’t wear them outside either, unless I’m planning on heading off to the wilder reaches of the yard where there’s long grass or thorns. In a very good mood this morning, because we finally have the power back on, and being able to resume my usual zooming around in the middle of the night, I went out to let the chickens out at six. By the time I got there though, I was deeply regretting this habit, and had ten well frost-bitten toes. I’m guessing that if it’s this chilly now, with us still officially in autumn, we’re in for a very cold winter. Speedily sprinting back to the house to warm up my tootsies had me thinking of books – or more particularly – winter and books, back in the days when Kindles had never been heard of yet.
My fondest reading memories all seem to have been in winter. Curled up on the couch, fire blazing, with hot chocolate, a mug of soup, or these days, a nice warming glass of Pinotage clutched firmly in hand. And there was nothing to beat the feeling of turning to page one of an eagerly awaited new release by a favourite author or new instalment in a series. By the time I could feel my toes again, I’d convinced myself that that was all dead and gone now. Why get excited when you could download a book in an instant, and why pay for a favourite author anyway with all the freebies about? Good mood well squelched, I turned on my computer and looked at the top hundred free bestsellers to test my theory. Glumly getting to the final book without finding any that I wanted to download or read, I went to Terry Pratchett’s page to commiserate and mourn all that lost excitement. Then I spotted three of his that I haven’t read yet and bought them. So happy was I to open the first pages of all of them, that it took quite a bit of strength not to just dive in and read on. I managed though, and they’ve now joined my pile of other virtual books waiting for me to get my nose into. Not a bit of the excitement is lost, and readers will never stop paying for the books they want to read in favour of others just because they’re free. Faith restored. Books will always be the place we go to for the love of the story, to escape the troubles of the world, or just for a laugh, even if they do cost a few bucks, and whether they’re old loves or new. Or sometimes just plain silly.
This last week we haven’t been running the generator much, so not being able to go online often, I’ve been having a look through my pile of unread e-books. I’m nearly finished reading My Alien Mind by Amanda Green now, but just having a random look around yesterday, I came across one of my impulse buys, popped it open, and spent the next hour laughing till I cried, and later leaving it a five star review. It’s a very small book called Epic Text Fails! by Marcus Rainey, and certainly not for underage readers. And that’s all it is – predictive text message mix-ups. They’re mainly seriously rude and offensive, but that’s just what makes them so funny. There were one or two that I didn’t find funny, to be honest, merely offensive, but the other ninety nine percent were cringingly hilarious, and got my day off to a very happy start, regardless of being in the dark. Even though it’s a bit silly and isn’t a “book” in the true sense of the word, I’ll keep my eye peeled for anything else Marcus Rainey publishes purely on the strength of his sense of humour, more than happily pay for it, and open the first page with eager anticipation. If something gives you a good vibe, you’re going to want more. Isn’t it amazing what revelations cold feet can bring? Then again, could be that I’m just a bit odd.
Till next time friends. xxx
April 25, 2013
How Hard Is Too Hard
There are million-selling legendary authors, like those genius scribes of such modern literary classics as Duncton Wood, or Clan of the Cave Bear. Not to mention the not so literary but still million-sellers, because not all readers enjoy literary books. There are bloggers that have so much cool stuff to talk about that they have tens of thousands of followers. There are Google and SEO geniuses, like Guy Kawasaki. There are marketing wizards that could sell ice to an Eskimo. There are huge publishing houses, crumbling a little now, but still – who would refuse a contract with one of the big five? Wizard computer technicians. IT specialists that have actually studied the subject. People are Twitter heroes with thousands of adoring fans, hanging on to their every tweet. People with Facebook pages that are so “Liked” that I wonder how their owners ever find the time to read all the comments on them.
And then there are the Indie Authors. They have to be all of these things. I think that any sort of gentle, creative soul would have difficulty facing any one of these things, but if they want to succeed, and be one hundred percent independent, they have to not only face, but conquer every single one of them. Even though Amazon really is still young, in the last couple of years millions of books have been loaded on to their site. I think that the marketing strategies of even one year ago might not all be effective any more, purely because of the sheer volume of people all doing the same things. The next great marketing idea hasn’t been found yet. In the beginning posting your book links on Facebook, in groups or events, would probably have got you lots of sales. Now I doubt that you would get many at all that way. Constant hard sell drop and run indie authors confuse me a little. I very seldom click their links, purely because I don’t like having things constantly lobbed at me. Hard sell marketing is a dodgy way to go with any product. Sales people who do that for a living are generally taught how to go about that sort of strategy, and it involves a bit more than just constant bombarding of the same people with the same book link.
Now there’s just mainly a white noise of millions of book links flying around, and only a handful of true success stories. New authors jumping on the bandwagon now are going to have to find new ways to market themselves and their books. The old channels are all clogged up, and I’m beginning to wonder if we’re not heading back to the way things were before the advent of self publishing, with a lot of the books on Amazon seen as “submission to agent”, to languish there until, or if, it’s ever spotted by someone who loves it enough to start a fever of sales. Word of mouth praise is your best marketing tool after all. No matter how well your book is written, there is still an element of luck involved in it gaining real readership. Thousands of books downloaded on free days are never actually read by those who download them. Thousands of books have brilliant reviews. But. Not all of those books deserve all their praise. If these reviews have been written by friends and family, who at the end of the day are never going to give you a crap review, and then people buy your book on the strength of them, and then don’t like what they read, they are not going to buy any more of your books anyway. So it seems to me that no matter what people say about how important having loads of fantastic reviews up the minute you publish is, the best way to get them is to wait for them to come in from people who have read your book, liked or hated it, and get the urge to leave their opinion of it honestly. I could very easily ask all my buddies for honest reviews and get lots of them posted in days, but I won’t, because I know how difficult it would be to tell a buddy that I really didn’t like what they wrote. At some point the real honest reviews will come, good or bad. Maybe a little worse than they would be if someone has been misled into buying a book by glowing buddy reviews that maybe aren’t entirely true.
That’s just my opinion, and I’m more than likely going to get shot down for it. I could be wrong anyway. Indie publishing is a journey of learning, and I’m still taking my first steps. Either way. I’d rather be patient, get my books into the hands of potential readers as gently as I can, and hope that some of them will like what they read enough to want to read more. That doesn’t mean I’m going to recline on the couch eating grapes. As an indie writer, it’s my job to sell my scribbles. Of course I’ll carry on learning all I can about getting those scribbles under new eyeballs, I just won’t camp out on doorsteps, and leap out of bushes waving any of my tomes under unsuspecting nostrils, and yelling, “Oi, you!!! Buy my book!” The only platform for that sort of hard sell is possibly Twitter, but even then, it’s not going to work if all you do is post your links. I honestly believe that without a bit of support from Lady Luck, it’s not reasonable to expect overnight bestseller status anyway, no matter how hard you work. At the end of the day, if what you’ve written is liked by those who read it, you will eventually achieve some sort of success, big or small. And if it’s not, you won’t, no matter how often or how hard you wave it under nostrils. Just saying.
Till next time friends. xxx
April 24, 2013
Begone Foul Shade!
I’ve crested my tantrum limit level, and moved over to the other side – laughter. Sometimes things just get so ridiculous that you have to. I’ve decided to take the high road, and not give whatever little nobble-a-writer demon it is that is doing his level best to… well…, nobble me, the pleasure of whining about the challenges of the last few weeks. I will instead say, that at the rate I’m going, trying to fix glitches all over the place with only a couple of hours of power a day to log on, I will soon be able to charge for my services as a vessel of supreme knowledge of arbitrary glitches. The final glitch repair currently involves the removal of the back of my computer, giving its innards a little vacuum, and finding out the meaning of errors dhep and tcpip. Some sort of running out of space thing – delete stuff you tool – sort of thing. Apparently this is what’s causing it to reboot itself every time I get to some key point in whatever it is I’m doing. Then there was the flying halogen bulb shattering incident. And I won’t mention the egg thing again.
You see where I’m going here? It’s a frontal attack. Combined with the recent iniquitous widget WordPress debacle, and the malevolent fiddling with the electricity, this final torment can only be the work of a particularly foul demon straight from the seediest neighbourhood of the nether regions of hell. Rotten little sod. And then. I loudly wished Shakespeare happy birthday today instead of yesterday. The internet being what it is, I’m sure a bit of his shade is lurking in there somewhere, plotting revenge against a scribbler, of all people, getting the date wrong. Anyway.
Horrible as quite a few of the learning curves I’ve been on have been, I’m quite glad that I’ve stuck it out. Knowledge acquired is never lost. Unless you get bashed by a falling bit of space rock, which, just lately, doesn’t seem implausible. But all in all, not too bad a trip, as far as my trips are capable of going.
Till next time friends. xxx
April 23, 2013
Small Update
I’ve deleted my last post. Not because it was awful or any other terrible thing, but because I physically made a mess of a few things here. I got all in a twist because I’d added an unecessary widget, and then committed the ultimate blogging felony of copying and pasting, although in my defence I copied it from my own blog!! Lesson learned, and now far too tired from two days of unaccustomed IT sleuthing to say anything remotely interesting. I’m sure that tomorrow, once I’ve recovered, I’ll have quite a few new opinions in general. So.
Until next time friends. xxx
