un·der·whelm  [uhn-der-hwelm, -welm]

–verb : to fail to interest or astonish

This is my first post in almost three months.  My record to date.  It would have been closer to two months if I hadn’t spent the last two weeks pondering my glorious return.  Everything I remotely came up with was so underwhelming and certainly not glorious, so I have decided to embrace it.

I figured I would dazzle you with some trivia on the word, or at least an etymology of sorts.  The googled results are surprisingly underwhelming.  Not really sure what I was expecting, now that I think about it.

In the past three months, I have:

• Gotten my first technical writing job.  I am writing procedures in the corporate office of Westpac, an Australian bank.
• Submitted a second round of immigration application which in theory will lead to permanent residency.
• Discovered The Oatmeal
• Sanded and oiled six deck chairs we found in the trash pile of a Mormon church.  Surprisingly, this project has taken the entire three months.  I put the final coat of oil on this morning.  I still smell like turpentine.

All I  can do is apologize promise to attempt to be more dazzling, or at least more consistent, in the coming months.

I leave you with this profound quote:

Chastity: I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?
Bianca: I think you can in Europe.

God speed.

2010 is upon us.  It’s time for those resolutions. ¹

Frankly, this is always set me up for disappointment.  As it does for the rest of the world.  It just goes to show that I’m not quite as original as I think I am.   It’s no surprise that most of my resolutions go unresolved by June, only to be reattempted the following January.

For some, the strategy would be aim lower.  That way, at least you accomplish something.  It’s the philosopy to aim for a “6″ instead of a “10,” that way when you get a “6,” you won’t be disappointed.  However, in the last couple of years, I have decided to take the opposite opinion.

Aim higher.

Set a higher goal, and if you don’t accomplish it, at least you’ve accomplish something pretty great.  Aim for a “15,” that way when you get a “10,” you still  have a fricken “10.”  And 10 is a good effort.  So that’s what I’ll be doing this year.

Among other things ² I made a creative goal to tackle five projects in 2009.  In the end of course, I acomplished three  and had lots of miscellaneous notes and false starts.  It’s not the five I shot for, but I have some pretty decent portfolio pieces and a lot of much needed practice.

In my book, that’s a win for me.  And I don’t think it’s settling.  New year’s resolutions aren’t about winning a prize, they are about bettering yourself.  If I hadn’t had made the goal to write five pieces, the three I did accomplish might not have ever happened.  This year, I’m going to aim for five, and maybe this year, I’ll get four done.  It’s about baby steps.  Change doesn’t happen in leaps in bounds, it happens in small but steady steps and if I never try, how will I make any progress?

So, make those resolutions.  Who knows, maybe you’ll do better than you thought.  Here’s a tip, re-evaluate in June and relaunch if you need to.

Anyway, everyone have a Merry Christmas and an awesome New Year. If anything, be thankful that at least we are out of the “noughties,” which was a really lame moniker.

Good Luck.

___

Yes, indeedy.  That time again.  Let’s get started.

Why do people feel the need to lower their cars?

By “people” I mean “mostly stupid boys” and by “lower” I mean “yank out the suspension of the car so that it’s dragging on the pavement.”

Today, it’s mostly an aesthetic thing.  Like wings, spoilers, and “racing stripes” it supposedly adds a level of bad-assery to your car and thus your life status/penis performance.

Originally, however, it got it got it’s start in racing.  When done properly, it’s supposed to lower the center of gravity of your vehicle, which means you can go around turns at hundreds of miles an hour without flipping in the air like a wayward Pog.

But like I said, it’s mostly a penis thing.  

What is the difference between DVD-R and DVD+R? ¹

You may have never even noticed that there is a difference in the type of blank discs that you bought to burn your files and illegal downloads onto.  You just pop a disc into your computer and burn away.  For all you know that little “minus” is nothing more than a hyphen.  However, when you put in a blank DVD and it doesn’t work, you might start to notice.

Let’s take a trip back in time.  But not too far back, because realistically, how long have DVD’s been around?  In the beginning, there was no industry standard.  Companies were out there competing, hoping that their format would soon dominate the market.  Then they both caught on, and now we just have two types floating out there confusing the innocent illegal downloader.

The DVD-R/RWs were developed by Pioneer and are the most compatible with Apple computers (and obviously Pioneer products).  Technically gobbledegook speaking, “minus” discs only write on one layer of the disc and are generally the cheaper alternative.

DVD+R/RW is more of a Microsoft thing (so, HP, Dell, Sony, Phillips, etc).  The “plus” discs have slightly better storage capacity because it burns on more than one layer, though I’ve never noticed a real difference.  For the average non-geek, you probably won’t either. ² Anyway, this difference does cause the slight difference in price.

That said, I believe that comptuers and laptops and burners that are coming off the line toady are more or less compatabile with both “plus” and  ”minus” formats.   I don’t imagine it being an issue for very much longer, but if you can’t figure out why your DVD won’t burn, check the format, that might be the problem.  It might mean a trip up to Walmart for a new spool.  Don’t worry, 24 Season 1 will still be there when you get back.  

When typing, do I put one or two spaces after a sentence?

Most likely, if you didn’t learn how to type on a typewriter, you have no clue what I’m talking about.   That’s okay, I’m here to make you more worldly.

Originally, after finishing typing a sentence, you would press the spacebar twice before starting a new one.  This is because typewriters and early word processors used monospaced fonts, like “Courier,” which means all letters are the same width.  Tiny little “i’s” take up the same amount of space on the page as “m’s.”  Two spaces helped the eye determine the start of the new thought and made for an easier read.  The only people who need to worry about this these days are usually writers of some kind.  People who turn in scripts or manuscripts still type in “Courier” therefore need to still follow the two space rule.

However, most of us aren’t writing the new Harry Potter (book or movie) are we? With the popularity of proportional fonts, such as “Times New Roman,” this custom is being kicked to the curb.  The eye doesn’t need the help anymore, so all you essay and blog writers out there, keep doing what you’re probably doing anyway: use one space after typing a sentence.

FYI, if you care, I double space after my sentences.  It’s how I was taught and I can’t break the habit now.  It’s annoying to some people who read my stuff, but only Nazis notice.  

I’m bored, especially after reading this POS entry, what should I do?

Read a book.  Or go play outside.  That’s what my mother always told me.  I can’t really help you there.  Most likely you’ll ignore what I advise anyway and go look for porn on the internet. Off you go.   ____

How to boil an egg. How to bleach clothing. That you have to scrub the plates on light switches.

I can cook any recipe you put in front of me and most likely, it will turn out at okay, but if you just wanted a simple boiled egg, I wouldn’t know how to start. In fact, I recently asked my mother in law to do me one.

I think there are a lot of things that you are expected to just know when moving from adolescence into adulthood. Things that it just not occur to people to tell you.

The proper care of wooden furniture. That the kitchen trashcan has to be scrubbed.

Adulthood is strange. Surreal and often uneventful. You start to get used to it and coast through domesticity. And then you realize that your close pins can dry rot of the clothesline.

Organized fitness classes are the most absurd things I have ever attended.  It’s a bunch of women (and inevitably one dude) flailing about to remixes of remixes as a nazi high school gym teacher from hell shouts things at you like “step tap cha cha up over cowboy.”  This particular coach was a woman either a smoker in her late forties or a nonsmoker in her early fifties, either way she could kick my ass in a dark ally.  All she has done for the last twenty years is exercise and learn the lyrics to pop songs so that she can shout them into the microphone over the beat of the music.  Nice lady though.

This, of course, is not to say that these classes are not effective.  I mean, they have had steady attendance since Jane pulled out that step in the morning shows of the early eighties.  The Les Mills has more or less standardized the craze.  Surely they must be doing something right.  That, or we are all sheep.

In determination to lose my spare tire, I committed myself to going to whatever the 930 am class was this morning.  The schedule had the slot labeled innocently as “Fat Burning.”  That doesn’t sound too bad, who doesn’t want to burn fat?

…

Do you know what you have to do to burn fat!?  I don’t either because all the sweat that oozed from my pores has congealed in my brain rendering the class nothing but a blur.  I’ll tell you this though, I hurt.  Sadly this was not the first class that I have ever attended, so one would think that I knew what to expect.

However, I have learned three things that keep me safe in times such as these:

1. Don’t mess with the stay at home moms. They are the veterans of the class.  They have been attending religiously every week for the last several years.  It does not matter their shape or size, do not take their spot on the floor and don’t even think about eyeing their choice stepping block.  Would you walk into a lion’s den and take Simba’s dinner? Didn’t think so.
2. You are not as fit as you think you are. The weights feel light and the steps look low.  But they aren’t.  Ten minutes in you are going to regret your ego telling you that you could handle it.  However, the stay-at-home moms… They are that fit.  Watch them crush you.
3. Stay for the last track. If you want any chance of NOT feeling like a rabid bull picked up with it’s horns and hurdled you into a brick wall the next day, stay for the last song.  This is the stretching track.  The cool kids might feel like they can skip it and leave early.  Remember.  You are not one of the cool kids.  See rules one and two.

The funny thing is, I’m whining and feeling sorry for myself, but I can already feel my body becoming more energetic and revitalized.  Not to mention the gym clothes make me feel productive.  This is the same euphoric yet idiotic feeling that makes me think that I can get up tomorrow and do it all again.

Will I ever learn?

Every I check on my blog activity I find that my comments overrun with cheap viagra links and Czechoslovakian  porn spam. ¹  I was going to come in an give a insightful insight to the woes of brainstorming and writer’s block, but by the time I waded through all the useless comments, I had completely forgotten what that insight was.  And now it is lost to the world.  Including me.  Thanks a lot Spammers.

I guess I should look into some spam blockers, ay?  I had been avoiding it, but I suppose it’s time.  Unless someone is really attached to foreign porn?

_____

malapropism 

–noun

spoonerism   

Origin: 
1895–1900; after W. A. Spooner (1844–1930), English clergyman noted for such slips

Ironically enough, these are oddly easy to confuse.

What is the origin of the phrase “mad as a hatter?”

Which means completely mad or insane.

One might think it had something to do with Alice in Wonderland. Or Johnny Depp.  However, these assumptions would be incorrect.  In fact, back in the day Mercury use to be used in the making of hats which effects the nervous system of those in close contact with it often.  It also creates aggressiveness, mood swings and “anti-social” behavior.  One could imagine that someone with these symptoms would appear quite insane, or even mad, perhaps.

One of the more popular references of course would be the Mad Hatter in the afore mentioned book, Alice in Wonderland.

Alright, off you go.  That’s all the wisdom I shall impart this evening.

Hi there, this little segment is created to answer questions that you never thought to ask, or better yet, questions that you were to scared to ask due to their obscurity level.  Alternatively this segment is just lame in your eyes, which in that case, you may leave.

What is the difference between the words “assume” and “presume?”

These days the two word are used almost interchangeably, however, there is a subtle difference.  To assume means to take for granted without proof whereas presume requires some proof or fact, but not absolute certainty. 

I presume you are the killer because I saw you standing over the body with a knife making stabbing motions.  I assume you bought the knife at WalMart.

How does the refrigerator know when to turn on the light?

Where many people might lead you to believe that the light is manned by a little person, an speedy imp, if you will, this is just not the case.  Whirlpool and others have come up with this ingenious invention so is so genius, so subtle, that most don’t even realize it’s there.  Hence, the wondering.

Behold: There is a special switch on the side the door that is released when the door is opened, creating light.  When pressure is applied to the switch the light turns off.  See diagram.

I think Ellen Degeneres is hilarious, does this make me gay?

Have you perhaps considered that you think Ellen Degeneres is funny because you enjoy when anecdotes are compiled with a bit of buildup and fanfare leading into a fulfilling punchline? Bet you never thought of that  – bet you assumed that it’s just her gayness crossing the little tv signals into your living room encouraging you to run — no skipping — out of the closet “I’m gay, I’m gay, I’m glorious gay!”  It can’t possibly be because the woman is just funny.

Or, perhaps, yes, it means you’re gay.

And that concludes this edition of “Carrie answers a few questions of the universe.”  If you have any questions, or perhaps a better title, feel free to ring in.

No tongue twister intended.  There is indeed a mouse in the house.  I have named him Shredder and he possibly killed my brother.

This is not something I would normally admit to many people, much less the internet public at large, because frankly it makes me feel like I live in a pig-sty.  But here goes.  Try not to judge.

My name is Carrie, and I have a mouse problem. ¹

I started to suspect foul play a few weeks ago but talked myself out of spotting the mouse poo with my own eyes using a nice heaping dose of denial.  However, last week, I caught a glimmer of this undeniable troublemaker out of the corner of my eye when I was writing. ²  A second and less shocking glimpse  came the next day.  Confirmation stage complete.  Mouse in house.

I start to call around, seeing what my options are for my little problem.  There are apparently two.  Trap or poison.  (Note, there are many sub-options within these two seemingly simple headings.)  And the lovely hairy sounding man on the other end of the phone said that he was happy to come set one or more of these options out for a small fee of $160.  Yeah that’s not going to happen.  Also, I find funamental problems with these two methods of riddance.

Trap.  Traps kill.  I will then have to dispose of the little crushed mangled body of this little being who really just wanted a piece of cheese.

Poison. Poison also kill.  Things that include my rabbit and/or my dog, whom both of which eat anything they can get their noses near.  And even if that didn’t happen and the poison did find it’s correct mark, the mark would then retreat to some unseen, unknown part of the house to die and cause stinkage.

Today I saw him again.  He is much bolder now, which obviously comes when you are comfortable in your new home, so this time much he was closer and looking right at me.  He is so small and very un-repulsive.  Now, not only have I had a run in with Denial, now his friend Guilt has come collapsing on top of me.  

So, I have a mouse.  I have named him Shredder.

I did try to make my own humane trap….
(Though mine looked a bit more like this)

Good news, it works.

Bad news, it caught my rabbit.

So here I am, with yet another furry house mate.

__________

After a couple of semi-intense, quasi-inspiring, yet, fully-caffeinated meetings at cafes about a script I am currently working on, I can easily say fairly I am enthusiastic about getting started on my next stage of development.  The year is ending, the next chapter of my life, as I outlined in my 12 month plan, is approaching rapidly, therefore the pressure to finish this chapter is on. Not to mention I am trying this new leaf thing where I’m not spending all day surfing YouTube for hilarious The Ellen Degeneres Show interview snippets and I wake up before 2pm.

So I sit down with my ever so slightly used gel pen and my ever so slightly used airport-purchase steno pad.  And proceed to stare at it’s mocking blue lines for two days.

Yes.  It has happened.  Again.  Writer’s Block.

But how, one might ask.  I have all these ideas whizzing through my head.  Worlds.  Characters.  Themes.  Gags.  Humor.  Emotions.  All of which I’m sure if I could get onto to paper, the world at large (or at least a decent sampling) would be amazed, or at least entertained.  But they all remain there like shoppers trying to get out of the bottle necked Walmart parking lot on Christmas Eve.

A quick Google search turns up hundred of articles similar to this one.  Particular theories on what causes and what could help cure the elusive Writer’s Block.  Mr. Taylor’s causes are as follows:

• Cause 1: Writers are sometimes not ready to write
• Cause 2: Writers are sometimes afraid to write
• Cause 3: Writers often try to compose in their heads
• Cause 4: Writers often start in the wrong place

These “causes” are fairly straight foward.  Don’t get ahead of yourself.  Don’t micro-manage.  Start broad, then narrow.  Take it one step at a time.  You have to walk before you can run.  Doodle before you can draw.  The usual.

Now, if you’ll refer back to my own list of the exciting locked up things in my brain, you’ll notice that the word “Story” does not appear anywhere.  I have worlds and themes and emotions and people all hanging around.  All the ingredients sitting in my pantry but no idea how to put them together to make a damn good soufflé.  Hell,  I don’t know if I could even manage a box of Jiffy at this point.

David Taylor’s silly little advice points are too vague, too 101, and probably too true.

Perhaps I am doing all the wrong things, but it’s how I’m going to get to write things.  And damn it, one day I will have something better and more exciting than a blog post full of useless comments about not writing.

Now to the favorite part of my day.  Lunch.