as good as it gets

My favorite things

Project Wrap Up

Am finalizing my analysis of the last epub project. got back to my apartment at about 11 last night from Charleston, SC. went to bed close to 1 am, but was wide awake at 6:30 and got down to business on the paper. i'm not thinking 4 pages is really possible. maybe two to talk about this?

electronic collaboration

am still in charleston, but am leveraging twitter, texts, and e-mail to stay in contact with project group members. rp got the video/voice overlay to work!

one last class

it'll be exciting to see everyone's final projects and to have a chance to wish everyone a good summer.

project meeting at golden west and the rest of my saturday

teegan holiday spirited me to the golden west yesterday morning to discuss what remains to be done for our final epub effort. after that auspicious beginning (zucchini & brie pancakes!) i came home to my youngest sister and to plot a day of low-key fun at inner harbor east. we saw "I Love You, Man." then walked over to teavolve for a leisurely late afternoon/early evening dinner.

we left when the lightning started (the nigerian guitarist had just started but he left something to be desired). our frugal intention to get the bus was undermined by our fear of getting caught in a downpour, so we cabbed it home.

Cloudy with a chance of coffee

i fell asleep wearing my clothes last night and had even more surreal dreams as a result. of course, that might have been because i was drinking coffee right up to the point when i couldn't keep my eyes open a moment longer. also, it would be more accurate to say that i chose to go to sleep with my clothes on because i was too lazy to put on pajamas. i willfully chose such discomfort and wrinkling.

the dog, as usual, came barreling into my room to claim her spot on the floor by the window. i heard the door fly open, but what finally roused me was her spirited barking at some innocent car or person below.

there aren't any actual clouds today, but i'm lost in a fog. i'm ashamed to tell you, but the first thing i do now is refresh twitter.com to see who's been tweeting what while i've slept. then i heated up some of that clouded coffee from last night. i trolled through my iTunes library until i found Patsy Cline. My sister, who for some reason, gets ready in my bathroom asked "who's that?" when i told her, she responded "Oh, that's my bitch!"

"good coffee should be black like the devil, hot as hell, and sweet like a kiss"

i've been twittering a lot lately. the quote that serves as the title of this post was Foodimentary's latest tweet. i post it here to say, simply, that i agree. hmmm. coffeeeeee.

"The Mockingbird is the Perfect Postmodern Bird..."

"...because it has no sounds of its own; it only mimics the sounds of others."
--Poet, Adam Zagajewski

So, the Polish accent is more lilting than I knew it could be when in the mouth of a poet. The city behind him was lost in a fog. the tops of the roofs were smoky with the cold. baltimore seemed eastern european in its essence--that view and that voice together conjured up all the romance i bestow on that corner of the world.

Zagajewski's poems were imbued with humour, understated and contemplative. i haven't written a poem in nearly 3 years. his work made me want to try my hand at it again.

attended the MFA building dedication

with my sister today and after an interesting presentation on words and images (and their electronic, digital, Web presentation), I noshed on hors d'oeuvres. Finger food is addictive. Then I went to the gym for a 50-minute elliptical run. Odd that I didn't break a sweat even though I burned nearly 500 calories according to the machine's calculations.

inexplicably

i am feeling simultaneously hopeful and stupid today.

3 times in 24 hours

that's my current gym visit frequency. a personal best. i'm trying for two-a-days for through friday.

family shopping trip

i've embraced new old concepts like grocery delivery. yesterday evening i had a bulk order from safeway.com shipped to my house, and find, yet, that i need to venture out to a club store for any number of things that a) i forgot to oder and/or b) that cannot be easily ordered (such as cheap, plastic patio chairs). my sisters and i are all together for the holiday, so this will likely be a more complex expedition than it needs to be.

clouds in my coffee

Outside Class

my memoir class met at XS today; the weather beckoned. i sipped my drink while we discussed several really good, evolved pieces written by fabulous classmates. i stopped off at the grocery store on my way home to the dog to pick up the ingredients for the makeshift shrimp saag i wanted to make. Gato Negro wine is still 2 bottles for 9 bucks, so i indulged.

productivity

it was threatening to be another one of those mornings. a morning in which some combination of going to bed late the night before and having no place to be equals one thing. sleep. my bff called me up to tell me about a long dream (or a series of strung together short dreams) she had. in this dream, all i did was take naps. apparently, i had decided i was a cat and said so. some heavy stuff was going down in these nightmares and we needed to book it out of where we were and i announced that "i'm just taking a cat nap; i'm a cat."

between this and her explicit directive to me to rise and shine, i was roused.

i walked to calvert and fayette to head to the big city post office location to mail in a job application to the DLLR. That's right. They're going to pay me one way or another. then i went to Koffee Therapy and wrote a letter to Martin O'Malley and a Letter to the Editor of the Baltimore Sun. i am going to stump for Unemployment Insurance reform. maybe that's my new purpose in life.

sounds podcastable.

tuesday

The Scene: Weekday morning in my apartment. Sunny.
The Situation: I'm eating O's and drinking Eight O'Clock Coffee (french vanilla)
The Dog's Situation: Not yet walked (she's waiting for my sister to mobilize)
Oh, and she's also staring intently out the floor length window in my bedroom, just watching the cars and people go by.

rainy city

#35

I learned something about another bus route today. I've been a light rail rider for the last couple of years, and have only ridden the bus intermittently, but it's like riding a bike, I guess. Anyway, I boarded the no. 35 and sat, for the better part of an hour, with the meth-addicted population of the city.

I heard snatches of conversation that included things like "my best friend, who just got out of prison..." and "that drug program is too strict..."

it was a long ride in so many ways.

I know from riding the no. 21, which couriers a different disenfranchised population, that eventually you become impervious to the initial depression that results from being so close to that level of hopelessness.

coffee rings

i just set my bowl-like latte mug down on a DLLR notification and a faint tan ring appeared at the top where the mug had been, immediately giving the letter a look of antiquity.

i am sad this morning. sadder than i can say, for a singular reason. it will be a long time before i have the perspective necessary to feel nothing about what's happened. not a break up or anything like that, but a strained relationship with a friend of sorts that i don't think can be made right.

i'm actually okay on the romantic front--i have none, which is the best way to avoid a breakup, in my experience. i think i've finally stopped nursing even the vague hope of rekindling with my almost lover, who, if my dreams have the prescient power i think they do, is seeing someone now. we live in the same neighborhood, so here's hoping i don't bump into him or anything.

i'm pretty low these days and that might do untold damage. or kickstart me into a renaissance of some kind.

i love baltimore and never seriously consider leaving, but times like this make me wish i had a new city to start over in. or, no. really what i wish is that i had a 6-month stint somewhere else, doing some heartbreakingly beautiful, physically grueling work, and that i could return home afterward, clean of the past and broken in ways that afford humility without the death of the soul.

fall courses

i've finally figured out where to look for fall courses--not under the PBDS dropdown, but CWPD--and so have figured out, conclusively, what my course load will be in september. With that now decided, though I cannot yet register, I turn my attention back to finding gainful employment.

The DLLR denied me, incidentally, based upon a telephone interview in which I tried to explain that no, I was not willing to drop my grad program in the interest of finding full-time work because my classes take place after work hours, and so it is not necessary to do so. the interviewers ask questions that are intentionally set in a yes-no construct, and then, depending upon your answer, ask you some other, equally limited questions. you have to just figure out this complex game, and answer questions in the right way, or you'll never win.

i wrote an appeal letter and slipped it into a mailbox yesterday. at this point, it is personal to me. it is a matter of principle that this institution admit that i deserve these benefits. i don't want to have to need them, but it's ridiculous that they are trying to get out of paying me. ironic that i just sent in my state tax payment last week.

today, i troll a job fair. wednesday, i have a meeting, and regardless of the outcome, it's nice to have been called in for consideration. perhaps my days of hanging out with the dog are numbered?

a quickie

I'm looking forward to being back in class tonight after a month. if I'd known my one absence would be followed by a snow day closing, i might have tried harder to get out of the snafu that prevented me from attending that night. it'll be good to see everyone again.

so, i guess we'll get our projects back tonight. i'm kind of nervous...

Being willing to go in another direction

On the corner of Charles & Park, i was attempting to hail a taxi. a prime location, anyone would argue, and indeed, at least 6 cabs whizzed by while i stood there. for one reason or another, none of them stopped.

determined to make my impression felt on the world outside my apartment, i decided to head to harbor east to sit in Teavolve, one of my favourite local spots with free wifi. i'd have preferred to find someplace in my exact neighborhood, but the ubiquitous starbucks (i'm no hater) does not have free Internet services, and besides, i wanted something a little more homegrown with a more individualized ambience.

i am freelancing, sort of, and i pledged to be available from 8 to 4 today; i didn't want to spend precious time in transit (though i wasn't exactly being bombarded with work). so, loathe as i am to redirect once i've got a course of action set, i turned around.

the plan, at that point, was to head in the direction of UB. plenty of places to sit, gnosh, and coast onto the Web there.

but in that turning, i saw something.

a flashing OPEN sign.

Koffee Therapy, a coffee shop that i've only ever seen from the outside, and always CLOSED, beckoned. It's one of these places that I figured might even be defunct because I've never happened to walk by when it's been inhabited or showing any signs of life.

it's funny the world you miss when you're sitting shut away in a building somewhere, toiling to advance some company's agenda. it's funny the world you miss when you're not willing to be wrong, reconsider what you want.

eventually, a cab would have stopped. but life had a different lesson for me today.

Facebook

My Facebook use is up and therefore my Facebook "stock" is up. I first heard about the site a few years ago when its membership was restricted to college students. Not long after that, an acquaintance invited me to join. I had no intentions of ever being active, but I didn't see the harm, so I accepted. It took me months to fill out my portfolio, add pictures, and see what this virtual popularity contest could possibly have to do with me...

as soon as i started to show my "face" with any regularity, i was suddenly a prime target for "poking," "super poking," cyber frappuccinos, and membership in all sorts of socially conscious "groups."

"Aren't I a little old for this?" I wondered. I good-naturedly accepted invitations of friendship--even if I was only loosely acquainted with the person making the overture (or had know him or her so long ago and no vestige of actual friendship remained, even if it had been there once). I would occasionally marvel at how many people found me, but I had not yet thought of it as a leveraging agent...

Stay tuned.

Aflac

is bird dogging me.

I've gotten four calls from them in two days asking me if i'm still in the market for a job. I've explained at least four times that while I am still looking for work, Iam not now, nor have I ever been, nor does my resume indicate that I would be interested in working for an insurance company or in sales. Even after I was assured that I would be removed from their call list, I got a call again today. Undoubtedly, from a different call center, but still!

one benefit of unemployment

midday gatherings with other folks who are work challenged. after a morning of cancelling my gym membership (it's still good through May b/c I missed the cancellation window for April), downgrading the cable, and cancelling other billed services, I managed to find time to sneak in a cup of coffee with some friends.

afterward, i picked up a few things at the grocery store (to the tune of about 70 bucks), including some shrimp, which were on special. i made this tomato and white bean reduction for the shrimp and tilapia filets. now i'll use the last of the vodka to make some cocktails. my sister should be home soon, and i'd like to have the food on the table.

all i need are some pearls and a vacuum cleaner. clearly, my inner 1950s-era housewife was just looking for an opportunity to come out.

e-mail

Jane and Meredith, what e-mails should i use for both of you? the ubalt one? is that firstname.lastname@ubalt.edu?

Currently in Blacksburg, VA

It's been an interesting week; I got laid off, found out I didn't get the job I'd interviewed for a week or so ago, and got rejected for another position that was recruiter-solicited. I have to say the reason the hiring manager didn't want to interview me for the temp/contract position the recruiter called me about was bogus. It's an editing position (I've been writing/editing for 14 years), but because I don't have marketing experience, it was a wash.

I've filed for unemployment. It was surprisingly easy. I applied for another position moments after filing the unemployment insurance, so fingers crossed...

I've also signed up for freelancewriters.com in the hopes of building a portfolio of clips.

is there anything in the stimulus package that will afford me, personally, any cash?

Hypertext Narrative

Hypertext Narrative article.

stresses

this week, i am deep in the search for a new job, gaining weight like gang busters, and completely unsure whether staying in this mfa program is the right thing for me, but i managed to complete a piece for workshop memoir, and with the help of my best friend, complete something that approximates an acceptable mid-term project. i love it, actually. i'm only saying "something that approximates" because, once again (in this program), it's not enough for us to simply do assignments and give them our best, we have to trot them out for show and tell and thereby create a decidedly evaluative context (beyond the intstructor's grading, which makes sense) around the work.

it's so obvious that some people know more about electronic publishing than others, have access to different (perhaps better) resources, and depending upon their work situation, more time. i really wish we could just turn these in and receive personal feedback on them, or have the option to share if we wished without it counting against us if we don't.

this feels like junior high school.

cohesion and consistency

i'm learning a lot about incoporating an inherent, intuitive metatext in my hypertexted project. spending time on it this weekend helped me to understand just how crucial it is to execution. i don't promise that my final product will be entirely reflective of this bedrock realization, but i think i'm on my way.

what i'm trying to do is create footbridges between two different tracks, not so much the same, templated navigational tools. it's more about circumspection and hidden doorways back to the beginning.

project progress

my concept is coming together, visually, and there is something stimulating about how concrete it is to present text this way.

it's sunday morning. coffee, my constant companion, is by my side as i plot and plan all the ways to make this day count on all fronts. a brunch with friends, dining room table shopping, homework, and preparation for that big business meeting.

i had a slew of dreams last night--staggered, hypertextual dreams. in one of them, i bought a container of Valentine's Day special Clorox wipes. Apparently, when you wiped up surfaces with them, a V-day wish was left behind. In the dream, as is the case in the waking world, it was post Feb. 14 and they were on clearance. My dreaming self was all "Oh, I am so going to buy these!"

credit score(s)

in order to better position myself to buy a house next year, i'm eliminating all manner of unrighteous (read credit card) debt. i'm nearly there, but of course i need to maintain these beautiful zero balances for the long term. it also makes sense given how perilous the economy is these days. actually, it makes sense all the time, but there's a new urgency to have one's accounts in order. i feel it just like everyone else.

at the same time, job certainty in limbo (i guess that would be uncertainty defined), i'm still doing my part to stimulate things. a meeting on the horizon (not a date) for early next week requires something new to wear. the errand coincided with plans to see a dear friend for belated birthday festivities, so i just combined all that spending. clothes, shoes, two new handbags, dinner out... all paid for in cash.

it's a new day of personal responsibility and i'm excited to embrace maturity in this way.

validation

after giving some form of credence to my feelings and worst fears about my writing late last week, i've received some form of validation by way of a state-sponsored poetry grant. there were several recipients, and i did not take top honour, but i was among the number... i had already written off my chances because its safest to do so (for every award there are hundreds of applicants), so it was nice that this week of all weeks, i received objective recognition of my writerly efforts.

i guess these affirmations come to us when we need them most.

Beware: an utterly indulgent post ahead. feel free to skip

i've often wondered if i'm not being indulgent by pursuing a second master's degree. i know my reasons and rationalizations for doing so, and when you take everything together, it makes sense. but i keep having to face a singular reality in the context of workshops: i'm not really good enough. i'm 35--i should be published by now (or should have been published more than twice by now). my writing, at least, should be beyond the place it is currently. most of my classmates are 10 years my junior, and outclass me in every way. i had the same issue with poetry at Hopkins.

i don't prize sentimentality. i don't think i should be nurturing an unfeasible idea.

i had a piece workshopped today--something i wrote 3 or more years ago--and i felt, keenly, all that was wrong with it. at the same time, i'm frustrated, because when i read other people's work (that gets praised), i often can't tell why what they're doing is more successful than what i'm doing. it's like trying to solve the rubik's cube. i can't find the trick, the secret move that will work every time.

i think i'll stick out the program because of its emphasis on publication design. i'll let that lead me to a much more practical end. i think i could be a good magazine editor; i could supplement that with teaching some continuing ed courses. of course, in a year, i may decide to cut the program, in its entirety, as a loss as well.

i'm supposed to do an independent study this summer, but maybe i shouldn't waste the instructor's time. writing is a craft, but there's something about it that is--that must be--inherent.

the apt cliche? those who can't do, teach.

on my way home from this demoralizing workshop experience, i stopped off at Eddie's and bought a bottle of Gato Negro (surprisingly good wine for 4.50 a bottle). a Shiraz--the distant cousin of the more coveted Cabernet--outclasses the too easily gotten Merlot.

i'm about to walk my dog and reconsider some things.

project sketch

i've decided the best way for me to conceptualize the march 2 project is to lay it out in PowerPoint. the ability to insert slides helps me to map the links out a bit better and the notes feature at the bottom will jog my memory when it's time to translate my ideas. i'm not really finished storyboarding yet, but it's much more effective for me than my rudimentary index card scribbles.

i took my camera with me when i left the house this morning so i could get a few shots i'd already planned. i feel like i need a few more, though.

deconstructing hypertextuality

Segmentation/Alternate Paths is an academic site that compares/contrasts text and hypertext, and explains the evolution, to some degree. It also boasts the claim that hypertextual expression is the wave of the future--that it will be the dominant vehicle in the coming years.

Many sites agree that The Garden of Forking Paths is not actual hypertext--it's the theory of hypertext--the original blueprint for what we would come to think of as hypertexted narrative. In short, it lends itself to the systems and structures of hypertext.

Hypertextopia

The Painting

Which way to the hypertext?

Forking Paths?

Navigating beyond the main page was counterintuitive. There's an interesting rationale statement to be found there, but I couldn't actually find the hypertext at first. It's easy enough to click on one of the letters on the initial page, but I had no idea that you had to click one of the mapped, coloured squares to get to text excerpts. I discovered it after several minutes. Finding the other text frames is difficult, and your control over the navigation is limited and frustrating. Very poorly executed.

homework: Post 1

GFP: Hypertext site

The design of the site above is both thoughtful in its execution and in its governing aesthetic. The navigation is clear and consistent from page to page. The hypertext of the site mirrors the intent of the narrative.

Just a note

Eight O'Clock Coffee is the top-rated brew, and among the cheapest...

Serial Novel

I'm relatively new to Laura Lippman's work, but have become a fast fan of her Baltimore-based Tess Monaghan series. In the context of listening to several of the books via audio format, I did a Web search to find out about the author. Drilling down a few links led here.

She's released her latest in the Monaghan suite as a serial online newspaper novel--an old device spun for the tech-minded present.

showing the craft process as part of the publication process

Even though I'm only in the second semester of the MFA in Creative Writing and Publication Design program, I've already started to think about the final project. I knew intuitively that I wanted to do something digital or web-based.

One idea that I have now is that I'd like to show the editing process (by showing pdfs of drafts of my work), and include audio components as well as visual. I have no idea how to do any of this at the moment, but hopefully my current level of intrigue will keep me from punking out.

Political Narrative

I first discovered Jack and Jill Politics.com during the often tumultuous and dramatic 2008 Democratic nominee and Presidential campaign seasons. I hawked all of the main avenues--Salon.com, CNN.com, The New Yorker, etc., but it was through The Root that I found this more homegrown, grassroots effort at chronicling the the narrative arc of the campaigns.

I was intrigued by their tagline: A Black Bourgeoisie Perspective on U.S. Politics. The site is unapologetically and unequivocally liberal (I'm not) and staunchly pro-Obama (which I was and am). It wasn't just the simpatico in this instance that kept me returning.

The frequency of the updates (often on the hour) made the site a dynamic source of instantly-published information that kept me abreast not only of the same recycled information that could be found everywhere, but provided textured, nuanced perspectives on those prominent stories.

The site, like a piece of prose, has a distinct voice. The site is layered in that there are numerous external links. There is an overt, intentional structure in place (there are daily Open Threads) that invites interaction. I think it's a wonderful example of leveraging the Web to reach the masses.

Graphic Storytelling

GrapeVine Industries
is a recent discovery of mine. In fact, I found it when looking for examples of ePublishing to write about in this space. Storytelling through static and dynamic images is its hallmark.

Postmodern Prose

Slowly Downward, to quote its own press, is "[a] site that contains short prose in surreal, irreal and stream of consciousness style, as well as a quiz that spent time in an art museum." It's intuitive, left or right navigation and TOC-like (Table of Contents) structure mimic a book. This isn't exactly an accident. The story cache is called a library.

Each library link goes to another set of links, that then lead to prose pieces. This "drill down" or layered effect is a staple of epubbing, I've noticed. It's an easy way to achieve dynamism.

One selection, on the main page, is available in audio format.

the first taste

by the time this is done, i'll know more than i do now.