What School? (Updated)

Once again, Stephen King has managed to irritate me.

I’d been busy writing, thinking, and brainstorming yesterday, capping off the final few minutes of an enjoyable writing session. (I know, I seem like an eternal optimist, don’t I? Truth is, I don’t share many of the dark days. I don’t like dwelling on ’em.)

MS Word froze. Hell, the entire computer froze. With an exasperated, “WTF?”, I sat back, sipping the last of my cold coffee, hoping to wait it out. A few things were attempted to break the hold. Not a damn thing worked.

Hard reboot, please. I was sore about it, nay, pissed. I wanted to bring the doc up to finish those last few thoughts and paragraphs.

Twelve minutes later – was I counting? Ya think? – the docs were up with some final paragraphs missing. Grrr. The excitement had fizzled, the energy had dried up, the thrill was gone. (Cue B.B. King.) So was my coffee and the allotted time to write. I made a note to myself, just a brief, slightly cryptic thing. I figured, I’d remember…

Twenty-four hours later, I don’t remember. Well, I remember three out of four that I’d thought. Damn it, that fourth one is plaguing me.

Which brings me to the eternal question, which school do you belong to? Are you one that writes copious notes, or are you of the “I’ll remember it” school?

I used to be the copious notes school. Then I read that Stephen King said that he doesn’t keep notes. He said that if it was important, he’d remember it. How sage that sounded! I would be like Stephen King. He can do it, so I can, too…right?

First, I lied. I am a copious note maker. I have documents of notes about the novel in progress, explaining what and why, because I know that I’ll probably get lost in the tangled tales and forget. I invoked the Stephen King clause yesterday in an optimistic fit. While I don’t remember it now, I’m sure that I will as I write today…or tomorrow…or…sometime.

I hope.

Got my mind juice, a.k.a., coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

UPDATE: I remembered the fourth as I began writing, and made a note of all four. Ah, the power of coffee.

 

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Archfloofocese

Archfloofocese (floofinition) – the district for which an archfloofshop is responsible.

In use: “The pets established areas, an archfloofocese, if you will, where they liked to hang. In each archfloofocese, one pet ruled and kept order – a cat in the master bedroom, a dog on the patio, and the noisy bird in the living room.”

Wednesday’s Theme Music

I almost titled this piece, “Monday’s Theme Music”. It feels like Monday. I blame my dreams for that. In one dream, I was living by a calendar, taking lessons, learning, and pushing to achieve goals based on the calendar. I awoke exhausted and confused.

Meanwhile, as many have noted, the Notre Damen Cathedral fire is terrible. As others have pointed out, hundreds of millions of dollars have poured in to repair the building, money not shared to address many world problems. How money is shared — and released, as one billionaire put it — is indicative of our wealthy population’s general senses of duty and caring toward other humans. Ain’t none of us surprised by it.

Of course, the Catholic Church itself isn’t a poor entity, either. They hold onto their treasures because those treasures are part of their history. Meanwhile…people suffer. Guess that’s part of their history, too, then, innit?

It all makes me bang my head, from the exhausting dream of relentlessly chasing and proving knowledge and attempting to reach higher goals, to the craziness seen in the world, as delivered by the news.

So, here it is, “Metal Health” by Quiet Riot (1983). Feel free to bang your head.

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