Jo Robinson's Blog, page 96

The Problem Could Be That…..

Some of us only realised that we were writers when we were already fairly long in the tooth. Whatever that means – I don’t have long teeth – just checked to be sure. I spent most of the years before that wondering what cruel joke the universe had been playing on me by making me pop up on this rock without a clue as to my life’s purpose. I’ve spent my life doing really peculiar things that I tended not to talk about just in case people thought I was weirder than they already did. That’s a problem – having a writerly train of thought without being able to tell people that you are one. These oddities are accepted as normal from creative people, and I must say, that since I finally found that amazingly joyful realisation that my purpose on this go around was to be a scribbler, I absolutely realise that all my guilty secrets are just the norm for my trade.

Youthful me: What do you want to be when you grow up? Um……..

Scholastic me: Totally clued up on the solar system, constantly devouring peculiar information deemed odd by normal people, and spent weeks researching the lives of Darwin and Beethoven – instead of cramming for maths exams. If it didn’t interest me I didn’t do it.

Readerly me: Very particular about what I wanted to read – not keen on most school reading – except for when I ran out of books, then the backs of Harpic bottles and Cornflour boxes suddenly became riveting.

After school me: Have you decided what you want to be when you grow up yet? You’re running out of time here. Um…….

Alright then, whatever, just get a job.

I have to give myself credit for giving my all to everything I tried, even though it bored me senseless, leading to being easily distracted.

And a lot of daydreaming.

Bureau of useless information: Even though I had no clue why, I’ve always properly researched everything that has interested me, and collected a really wild stack of notes on all sorts of things. There’s not a lot in the universe that I don’t find fascinating. I couldn’t help myself, and I still find notes tucked away reminding myself to look up one weird thing or another. Now I get to grin about it, and not wonder why I hadn’t been dealt a full deck upstairs. No information is useless to a scribbler.

Stationery Monster: I’ve always loved anything to do with writing. Over the years I’ve bought thousands of various items of stationery, knowing that I had to have them – needed them! They mostly stayed empty – now they’re all full.

I want to be alone: Writers aren’t very appreciative of company when the muse is on a roll. Unfortunately, while this dark, sultry, moodiness is accepted, and sometimes encouraged in the creative, it is looked on as rude surliness in supposedly normal people, and not a good way to make friends and influence people.

Too much information: Writers soak up information like sponges. They stare boldy (also considered rude for normal people) at the interactions of strangers, peer over walls at their neighbours (ok – that could just be me), and feel irresistible urges to study the histories of anything from the detailed workings of septic toilets to the Kama Sutra. The things we research and find totally acceptable are generally thought of as odd in your normal homo sapiens.

For the scribbler who doesn’t know she’s a scribbler, this means you have no club to truly belong to.

Know it all: All that unconscious researching leads to you knowing a little about everything, and not being shy to share your opinions.

Shocking revelation: Then one day the universe realises that you’re just not going to figure it out, and dumps whole stories into your cranium.

Who me?: You just know that you can’t do it – you’ll be laughed right off the planet.

Explosion: Some small thing gets your hand moving, and out it starts coming.

I’m a writer!: There it is.

Welcome to the club!

Now you get to eat like a writer.

Being a little highly strung goes with the territory.

You get to share plot lines and advice with your riveted friends now.

You get to know more about the interweb than most teenagers as – mostly – a bonus.

You know exactly who and what you are now, and make sure that everyone else does too.

Asking for a Re-Blog

Originally posted on HarsH ReaLiTy:

I have never asked for a reblog before, but if you have the time and wouldn’t mind reblogging or sharing this I would personally appreciate it. I have decided to really go for this and try to provide some sort of marketing/blogging consulting to those wanting the help and willing to pay. It might sound silly, but there are plenty of authors, photographers, bloggers, and entrepreneurs that are horrible at marketing themselves.

I cannot guarantee views, comments, or sales. I can guarantee for a contract a subscriber number increase. The rest is really up to you. I follow a business model which I have shared HERE which shows that I use 33.3% of my time gathering followers, 33.3% of my time writing, and 33.3% of my time interacting and socializing. That is how I blog. Many people can’t afford the time to “gather followers” or don’t know how. That is…

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Amazing Blogger: Chris!

jorobinson176:

TSRA on his world travels. :)

Originally posted on petitemagique:

Every week I want to share an amazing blogger with you all, so you can check out their blogs and maybe make some new friends!

All of these bloggers have amazed me with their art, kind heart, friendship and skills.

You ready? Here we go!

Meet Chris (I so adore this profile pic he uses! lol)

–> http://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/

A little about Chris

My literature Hero is Terry Pratchett who, in one of his Science of Discworld books, postulated that Homo Sapiens Sapiens survived all the pitfalls that made other Homo Sapiens species become extinct, by being story telling apes.

If this is the case, then in order to be effective, for every story telling ape there had to be a story listening ape.

I am descended from them, except I read stories instead of listening to them; and author’s are the tellers of the stories I read.

I don’t…

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Don’t Worry, Be Happy

If you’ve never had a reason to feel guilt in your life – well – jolly dee then. I’m great at guilt, and I sometimes have to give myself a shake to stop heading over the hill with it and just being a miserable sod forevermore. I carried all sorts of guilt and regret around with me for so many years that it coloured every aspect of my life some sort of shade of grey. Then – a couple of years ago – I got into karma yoga, and for a respectably long time I lived according to about ninety five percent of its teachings. Some things I don’t believe need to be given up to be a good person, so I never did give them up. Now I’m back to most of my old sinnin’ ways, but I managed to hang on to quite a lot of the good stuff.

One thing I’ve learnt is that guilt is a good thing – in moderation. Just the same as all the other emotions we are given to deal with, it serves a purpose. In this case the purpose of being aware that we have done something wrong, so it’s just as educational as all the others. It should never go on forever though. I don’t think that whoever’s in charge of things around here would get a kick out of anyone wallowing in sadness and despair for years and years because of something that has been done, and can’t be undone. Sometimes you have to forgive yourself just as you forgive others in order to move on with your life, and not compound whatever you’ve done wrong to warrant your guilt by wasting the rest of it.

Casting a really honest eyeball back on my own life was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Memories of painful things are sometimes best left buried according to quite a lot of people, and sometimes the memories of the mistakes and hurts inflicted by yourself are much more hurtful looking back than the memories of the hurts done to you. Blah, blah, get to the point Jo. The thing is, that once something is done or said, it generally can’t be undone or unsaid. Some people never take the blame for their own hurtful actions, blaming everything else including the kitchen sink instead, rather than accept that nasty guilty feeling. Some put it right out of their minds instantly, and never think about it again, but that causes problems. Whatever is in your memory never goes away. It just sinks to a deeper level – possibly causing invisible problems to your psyche in general, because no matter what you tell yourself to get through your days, at your core you know wrong from right. But maybe you never knew at the time.

That’s why I reckon that properly focusing on these things is good. We’re not the same person we were yesterday. Feel all the guilt or shame, or whatever it is that this memory brings on. Your guilt means that you’re sorry, and that if the same situation arose again, you wouldn’t do now what you did in the first place. Lesson learnt. Make amends to whoever/whatever you hurt as best you can. Then put it away or discard it. It’s all part of the human condition, and part of whatever this crazy lesson is all about. I have a sneaky suspicion that we’re actually supposed to be happy bunnies at the end of it all. So if you truly are sorry, and have done your best to fix or make up for that bad thing that you did or said, move right along with your life, because not being as happy as you can with the life you have ahead is probably going to be another thing to go in the guilty box – a final regret for when you’re finally ready to depart this mortal coil. You have permission to be happy and enjoy yourself. In the words of Stephen King, “Done bun, can’t be undone.” So.

Not sure what brought that on – it’s the rain I reckon. Guilt brought on by rain-rage. Still though, sometimes we do things throughout the course of our lives that are just plain bad, so the best we can do is own them without being destroyed by them, hard or not. It really pains me when I see a friend so overwrought by some instinctive or unthought-out act in their pasts that they literally waste years of their lives. Now – smile and give yourself a hug.

Spare an orang-utan, Guv?

Originally posted on Ailsa Abraham:

I’m writing this to ask you to do one thing for me. Please CHECK before you buy your Easter Eggs. Make sure they don’t contain palm oil.

Why? Because adding palm oil to chocolate is a cheapskate way to up the profits for the manufacturer and adds nothing to the quality or taste. What it does do is threaten the habitat of orang-utans. Their forests are chopped down to make way for palm-oil production. The apes themselves are slaughtered, burnt or captured. I won’t go into grisly details or post horrible photos but, please…give them a break.

Here are some links to places where you can check palm-oil free products.

http://giftideasformums.co.uk/palmoilfree.html

There are masses of ethical shopping ideas on here.

This article in the Guardian is great for checking what ones are “goodies”.

If you get into this for Easter, why not keep it going through the year? Just look…

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Abusive Responses From A Captive Bird Owner To Me Re My Posts On Animal Abuse On Word Press

Originally posted on Ann Novek--With the Sky as the Ceiling and the Heart Outdoors:

A woman  who calls herself a wildlife rehabilitator and writes under the name Mud Fur and Feathers has posted abusive comments to me re my view on captive animals and on factory farming and pig gestation crates.

She supports those awful methods and owns 6 captive parrots. She calls me sick and disturbed and has written to WordPress to censor my blog entries .

Here’s an excerpt from Animal Australia re captive birds that this woman supports:

“ A robin redbreast in a cage puts

all of heaven in a rage.”

– William Blake

For many people the bird is a symbol of a higher freedom we long for. We dream of being like a bird, to ‘soar like an eagle’ ‘be free as a bird’ and have ‘wings like a dove’. We have a wishful envy of the bird’s ability to seemingly fly away from everyday troubles.

Our societal acceptance…

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Monday Funnies

jorobinson176:

:D :D :D

Originally posted on Chris The Story Reading Ape's New (to me) Authors Blog:

WARNING – DIAPERS MAY BE REQUIRED BEFORE READING!

My Thanks to Phil the Tasmanian Devil for these EXAMPLES FROM BRITISH MILITARY OFFICERS’ REPORTS Part 1

1.  His men would follow him anywhere, but only out of curiosity.

2. I would not breed from this Officer.

3. This man is depriving a village somewhere of its idiot.

4. This officer can be likened to a small puppy – he runs around excitedly, leaving little messes for other people to clean up.

5. This Officer is really not so much of a has-been, more of a definitely won’t-be.

6. When she opens her mouth, it seems only to change whichever foot was previously in there.

7. Couldn’t organise 50% leave in a 2 man submarine

8. He has carried out each and every one of his duties to his entire satisfaction.

9. He would be out of his depth in a car…

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The Sunday Show – Guest Dutch Fine Artist Sonja ter Heijden – Music from Andre Rieu and Amira Willighagen

jorobinson176:

Sally’s Sunday Show is up, and featuring a truly brilliant artist.

Originally posted on Forget the Viagra, Pass Me a Carrot:

It is easy when working within the parameters of Twitter to simply follow and follow back with some interaction from time to time.  I would like to think that  I have developed a certain relationship in some form with many of those I connect to and I enjoy sharing thoughts and tweets from around the world.
However, sometimes, you get stopped in your tracks. This happened to me when I followed back Sonja ter Heijden from Holland. It was the background to her profile, and at first I thought that it must be an old master from the 18th century.  I looked closer and discovered that this was the latest work of Sonja herself.  I was immediately struck by not only the beauty but the amazing detail in this painting and I wanted to know more.

CRYING IN THE WILDERNESS

To cut a long story short I sent an email…

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Rain

I had to drive a way down the highway yesterday in the rain. I actually enjoy driving, and I’ve always been a fan of a big growly engine and lots of horsies under the hood, because I enjoy speed and the sense of freedom that zooming down a highway with just you, some cool music, and the control of a fast car brings. But stupid I’m not – mostly. People seem to assume that no matter what the conditions, they are absolutely obliged to drive at the top speed limit – at the very least. Bloody fools.

I stuck to mainly 100 kph when the visibility was bad, and made sure that I kept well away from the crazies as best I could, but I saw three cars barely manage to control skids as they flew past a petrol tanker up a blind hill, then succeed in avoiding an oncoming bus by what had to be inches, and then spend a minute slewing all over the road in some grizzly fast car ballet. Then – coming up to the town where I live I came across the aftermath of an accident. Humungous truck all bent and twisted on one side of the road, all his cargo all over the place, and a whole lot of cars in a bunch on the other side. Police cars, fire trucks, and people trying to clear the stuff off the road.

Then this morning I heard that a truck had been encroaching on the wrong side of the road, and had a head on with a minibus full of Zimbabweans, killing ten of them, including both drivers. What a totally unnecessary waste of life. People really need to get things into perspective. The possibility of killing anyone at all through wilful negligence should never be a possibility at all. Life is precious to every single one of us, and we shouldn’t have to risk it because some tool thinks that he has to do everything quicker and louder than everyone else.

And then there’s the other thing. The fact that the people of Zimbabwe have been turned into a nation of vagrants and forced world travellers by the selfish behaviour of the greedy few in control of their lives. I meet them here every time I go to town – people who have no way of providing for their families in their own country, and they come down here to work so that they can send money home. They don’t do it because they want to swan around the continent – in fact they have a lot of difficulties here because they are seen to be stealing work from local people. They do it because they choose to try their best instead of sitting under a tree and waiting to die of starvation, while their leaders get fatter and wealthier on what should rightly be theirs.

All of my Zimbabwean friends have said that there is nothing more terrifying than travelling in minibus taxis, but they don’t have any other choice because that’s the only way they can afford to travel. Pity that those bloody thieving politians don’t get to feel the fear of knowing that the pilot of the speeding vehicle you’re in decides whether you live or die with the choices that he makes. Although, having been directly responsible for the deaths of so many of their people for so many years now, even that wouldn’t make a difference. Pardon the rant. But really. No appointment is so important, and no destination will disappear because you get there a little late.

It got me thinking at any rate. There but for the grace of God, and that sort of thing. We go through our lives always busy. Busy doing, and planning, and fretting, and doing some more. Worrying about things that maybe aren’t so important in the grand old scheme of things. We get ourselves all in knots over some silly thing that we said, and worry about what people will think about us. We care so much about doing the right things, and the impressions we are making. Whether that be being seen as a ninny for driving “too slow”, or in the scribbling and blogging world, putting something out there that nobody will like. And while we’re agonising over that one truly rotten review, or worrying that we’ll be ridiculed for some scribble lurking around somewhere, those things could literally become the last thought we ever have. Right place at the wrong time is all it takes. So. I think that I’ll just have the rest of the day off, play with Bella and the horde, watch me some B-Grade movie – maybe Sharknado again – missed the end last time, and ponder what I’m up to in this life, the universe, and everything.

Rest In Peace Zimbabwean friends. I’m truly sorry that you had to leave this way.

Truth!

Originally posted on Adventures and Musings of an Arch Druidess:

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