What's MySQL?

Last week a woman called the library wanting to set up some computer instruction time. Specifically, she wanted help using WordPress to set up her blog. At my branch, the teen librarian is responsible for one-on-one computer sessions, helping older adults do things younger people grew up with: moving the mouse, left-clicking the mouse, and the basics of the internet. But because I have some experience with WordPress and blogging, I agreed to meet with this woman.

You can use WordPress in two different ways. In the first, wordpress.com hosts your site. It doesn't require you to be a computer expert, nor do you have to download any software. In the second, what my dad uses, you register at wordpress.org, buy a domain, find a server, do some stuff with ftp and mySQL, download software and then upload it to a server... My dad had professionals set up his site; now that it's up and running, he is able to maintain it.

I had assumed the woman had the second kind of site: that she had bought a domain and needed help getting it up and running. It wasn't until I began reading "WordPress for Dummies" that I understood how hard that would be. I had a notebook full of step-by-step instructions so that, even if I didn't know exactly what to do, I could lead her through it. Still, I was nervous.

When I finally met with her, I was relieved to find out she had the first kind of site--the one like I have. She wanted help changing the header, knowing where to go when she wanted to write a new post. Adding an email address. I could help her with these things. This is not above my pay grade.

We're going to meet again next week. I'm not sure now much individual attention I'll be able to continue to give her at work--our staff is already stretched thin, and I have other responsibilities at the branch--but in the mean time I'm happy to offer what help I can. It reminds me that just as she is pushing herself out of her comfort zone, using resources available to her to grow and try to enact change, I need to continue to push myself to grow, to keep writing, and to keep learning.

I Forget... What Was I Going to Say?

My grandma has an alarm system. When she returns from a shopping trip or church, she has just two minutes to get from the back of the house to her bedroom to turn off the alarm. The alarm is loud, but not to her 90-year old ears, so she's often forgotten to turn it off and received a call from the company making sure everything's alright. Finally she decided to put a note just inside her door, "Turn off alarm."

I'm not quite at the point where I wouldn't notice loud beeping, but I put up my first Post-It note yesterday where I'll be sure to see just before leaving the condo:

I don't know if you'll be able to read the yellow note, but it says, "Remember cell phone and purse!!!"

Wednesday, I left my purse at work. Thankfully it was there the next morning, my $22 cash and credit card with a laughably low limit in tact. But my relief at finding it was tempered by the realization that I'd left my phone at home, the second time I did that last week. When I'm at work, this isn't a big deal--I don't get personal calls during the day, and I'm still able to check email. I can be reached at the library in an emergency. But I'm in the car for over an hour each day. If there's a problem (my timing belt hasn't sounded too good in a while), I'd like to be able to call a tow truck or Triple-A.

I don't just leave stuff at work or home. I'm forgetful in other ways. In fact, yesterday, I got distracted mid-scrub and left a bowl in the sink and the dishwasher open. Seriously.

I get lost in my thoughts, sometimes. I'm thinking about what changes I want to make in my story, or what projects I'll tackle at work, or the debt crisis in Greece. I'd like to be more conscientious, of course, but part of me is depressed by the idea of filling my mind with boring minutiae.

Q & A: Just for Fun

My friend on the Left Coast, George, of Rough and Rede, tagged me with this blog post. I'm taking advantage of his eleven questions to a) fulfill his kind request and b) get me out of my blogging rut (I said, not too long ago, that I would write a post a day!)

The Rules:

1. You must post the rules (and link up who tagged you).

2. Post eleven fun facts about yourself on the blog post.

3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post, and then create eleven new questions to ask the people you've tagged.

4. Tag however many people you want.

5. Let them know you've tagged them!

Fun Facts:

- I planned to be a math or chemistry major when I entered college

- I've been to five countries

- My brothers and I were born two years apart, '80, '82, and '84

- I went to a Montessori school through 6th grade; I can't think of a better education

- I recently turned from a life-long pc user to a mac user. Mac is better.

- If I had to live on a single food for the rest of my life, it would be pizza.

- I'm the same weight as I was in 1998.

- I got my first speeding ticket when I was driving my mom's car on a highway (circa 2003); I was trying to figure out the cruise control as I was coasting down a hill and, somehow, my speedometer hit 90. Oops.

- I just cried like a baby at "50/50": good movie.

- I go to my grandma's house almost every Sunday. For fun.

- I drive a stick shift.

George's Questions & My Answers:

1. Who had the greatest influence on you growing up?

Easily my parents, in different ways. I was a bit of a homebody, so there was no one (besides my brothers) with whom I spent more time. How I look at the world; how I interact with others; how I think about myself: all this is directly influenced by my parents and how they treated me growing up. I see on television and read in books and hear stories from others how their parents talked to them. I don't remember a single disparaging word from either of my parents. I try to be good and thoughtful and unselfish. I worry, maybe too much, about how others are feeling. That's my mom. That's my dad.

2. What do you want people to remember about you?

I've joked about this: "Well, she tried." I have this image in my head of all of us just floating around, living out our lives, trying to make the best of it. It's hard to know what to do. To know what's best or what's right. So we try. I try. I would hope people recognize that. (Ask me again in a few years, and maybe my answer will change. In fact, I hope it does!)

3. Do you believe in God?

There's that E.M. Forster quote I've mentioned a few times here and elsewhere: how do I know what I think until I see what I say? In my story (currently at 79,000 words, about 30% through the revision process!), I'd originally intended for it to be about the relationship between this woman and a teenage girl: one has never been (nor wanted to be) a mother; the other is orphaned, practically speaking. But without planning on it, throughout the story I explore each character's faith, or lack thereof. Does it make one's life easier or harder? It's funny: I may cringe when I hear people on the right bemoan our nation's shift toward secularism. But they're right, I think. We are. Regardless of a person's individual beliefs, our culture is slowly becoming more secular and more inclusive. The Catholic Bishops are asking the government to help do what they weren't able to: prevent women from using birth control.

4. What are you most proud of?

I'll be silly here and say jumping out of a plane.

5. What is one thing you'd like to do before you die?

I'd definitely like to visit more countries.

6. At this age, what has surprised you about your life?

The extent to which I push myself to be around people. Growing up as this painfully shy and awkward girl, I assumed I'd choose a life in which I didn't have to interact much with others. That I could be alone a lot. But ever since high school, I've chosen jobs that force me to be around others. Not just a few others, but a lot, whether it's a classroom full of preschoolers or nursing students, or a public library. I don't think this is a coincident. I think I recognize that if I weren't forced to by my job, I would live the life of a hermit (which seems appealing at times!)

7. Name three of your all-time favorite movies.

Oh, this is hard. Give me a genre, like dream political movies, and I'll say "The American President" and "Dave." Say romantic comedy, I'll say "Pretty Woman," "When Harry Met Sally," and "You've Got Mail." Say movies you've watched half a dozen times on purpose, I'll say "Forrest Gump," "Clueless," and "Independence Day." Say best movies in the past two months, I'll say the American "Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" and "Drive." All time? Hmm...

8. What are you reading right now? And I do mean now.

I'm about two-thirds finished with Tom Rachman's "The Imperfectionists." I'm also rereading Christopher Moore's "Lamb" with my boyfriend.

9. Chocolate or vanilla.

Easiest question: chocolate.

10. If you could have dinner with a celebrity, who would it be?

Probably Stephen Colbert. Especially if he acted like I was on his show and he was interviewing me.

11. What don't people realize about you?

I can be extremely goofy; I try to hide this side of me as much as possible to avoid confusion.

That's all I have for tonight. Thanks for the questions!

Aren't You Finished by Now?

Today's my first and only day off work this week. I'm still revising (my boyfriend says, "Aren't you finished by now?!" and I ask myself the same thing).

I'm stuck on my ending. I've gone back and forth many times, and as written it's kind of in the middle. It's not the horrible choice that may make you hate a character, and it's not the warm and fuzzy, nor is it the clear moral answer. I'm realizing today, as I reread my final chapters, that I need to be stronger. Trust my original plan. Even if it makes you hate a character (which is debatable... I think it may split on gender lines, ha), I think that's okay--it just means you care about these made-up characters and world.

Sorry for the vagueness. I'm excited about making the fix and wanted to get my thoughts out. I'm at 78556 words, and expect it to get longer.

Next Time You Buy a DVD Online...

My dad's foundation has partnered with Amazon. If you follow the link (which takes you to the basic Amazon.com site with some added code), 4% of every purchase you make will go toward his foundation. You won't pay any more, any less. I know I don't go a month without buying something from Amazon; from now on, I'll start from this link:

Every little bit helps:

• $80 pays for one preschool teacher's monthly salary
• $50 pays for relief food for one month
• $40 pays for rental of classrooms for one month
• $25 pays for one goat
• $20 pays for one school uniform
• $10 pays for one mosquito net
• $3 pays for one student's school fees for one month

I watched "Contagion" tonight and am suddenly aware of how much I touch my face throughout the day. According to a character in the movie (which is about a very deadly and rapidly-spreading virus), I probably touch my face two- or three-thousand times a day.

Luckily, we keep hand sanitizer on our check-out desks for staff and customers alike.

Currently Reading...

I've started reading "The Imperfectionists," by Tom Rachman. Each chapter is told from a different perspective in a new setting: contemporary Paris, France, first; now, Rome in the 1950s. As I read, the connections become more clear. From Amazon:

Fifty years and many changes have ensued since the paper was founded by an enigmatic millionaire, and now, amid the stained carpeting and dingy office furniture, the staff’s personal dramas seem far more important than the daily headlines. Kathleen, the imperious editor in chief, is smarting from a betrayal in her open marriage; Arthur, the lazy obituary writer, is transformed by a personal tragedy; Abby, the embattled financial officer, discovers that her job cuts and her love life are intertwined in a most unexpected way. Out in the field, a veteran Paris freelancer goes to desperate lengths for his next byline, while the new Cairo stringer is mercilessly manipulated by an outrageous war correspondent with an outsize ego. And in the shadows is the isolated young publisher who pays more attention to his prized basset hound, Schopenhauer, than to the fate of his family’s quirky newspaper.

Photobooth

I have a cool app on my phone called "Pocketbooth" - it takes four quick pictures of you and stitches them together like one of those old fashioned photo booths. Here's some of me and my nana (not sure why I look so grumpy in picture #4).

No Bells, No Whistles

I'd been to comedy shows a couple times--once in college and again at a small club a couple years ago. Watching these men--it's only been men--get up on stage and try to make me and the rest of the audience laugh, I think about how hard it must be, night after night, for them to put themselves up there among distracted, drunk, or heckling crowds. How painful it must be. They don't have tricks to fall back on. There's no band, no bells and whistles, just the stories they tell.

But tonight I saw a true professional--Lewis Black. I didn't worry about his home life or whether or not he self-medicated. He spent some time on politics, how he can't believe that anyone is a Democrat or Republican these days, considering how horrible both parties are. He also said he wouldn't make any jokes about Obama because he's not funny--he's just so smart that he becomes lost in his head and thinks about the rest of us in the abstract (he used his serious voice here). Black spent more time mocking the republican candidates--pretty easy targets, but it still cracked me up.

(Actually, one of the funniest jokes came from the warm-up comedian, John Bowman: he hopes Mitt Romney picks Tom Cruise as his running mate so we can get America's two wackiest religions on one ticket.)

Let Them Eat Cake

Forbes called it a "sound bite blunder," I call it a "Washington Gaffe". A "gaffe" is a social error or a faux pas; in Washington, DC, a gaffe is when a politician tells the truth. Republican front runner Mitt Romney made the latter kind of gaffe when he explained to Solidad O'Brien on CNN "I'm not concerned about the very poor." Because the very poor have a safety net--welfare, food stamps, housing vouchers--he's not worried about them. He went on to say that he doesn't care about the very rich, either, because they're just fine. He's concerned about the middle class.

I hope he has to explain himself. But his own words suggest that he's not at all concerned about a group of people who are already so disenfranchised. Making ends meet through welfare and food stamps is not an easy life. I'd venture to guess that the "very poor" includes a high percentage of children and elderly. It's good to know what Romney really thinks about these groups. "The Examiner" calls Romney's statements not a gaffe but a "dog whistle to the tea party", which believes that too much money is spent on entitlements that go to the "very poor."

I do wonder how Romney defines "middle class." He referred to his speaking fees of over $370,000 as "not very much." Is a $370,000 income "middle class" to Romney? What about 10% of that, $37,000? I'm sure millions of Americans would love to be making $37,000 a year and pay the 25% tax rate on that money.

Edited to add a link to Jon Stewart's take on Romney's statements.

le sigh

Things are temporarily on hold for the full-time job. Long story, but I'll continue to pick up extra hours until everything is sort out.

Le sigh.

I had a great meeting with my writing partner this morning. I've been busy editing and rewriting the past few weeks, and I was eager to share the changes I had made. Also, I wanted some direction on the ending that I hurriedly wrote, so excited to be "finished." She gave me some great feedback and suggestions that will guide me as I continue revising, especially on those last few pages.

But the meeting was also great because I got to read some chapters of her current work-in-progress with new characters and plot lines. I loved it, and I so admire her ability to keep producing new and wonderful stories. It makes me excited for the time when I can begin a new project.

Sushi

I'm a neurotically picky eater. I'm slightly less picky than I was five years ago, and far less picky than I was ten years ago, but I still have pangs of anxiety whenever I go to someone's house for a meal. My desire not to offend someone by refusing what food they offer is typically smaller than my desire not to eat something that's not on my approved "list."

But a couple years ago I had my first pieces of sushi, some California Rolls. Since then I've had lots of different kinds, including, I'm told, sushi made with eel. I ask my boyfriend to order it without telling me what's inside--I don't want to chicken out, thinking about whatever underwater creature is rolled up with rice--which has led to my most adventurous eating in my life. (There was one roll he ordered, explaining I would be very upset if I knew what was in it. After I ate it (and liked it), he wanted to tell me what it was. But I won't let him. Even now, weeks later, I don't want to know what I ate.)

I shocked my mom; I still won't eat bananas.

I bought a new phone.

My old one was great but... the GPS was unreliable and it didn't have a flash for pictures and my number had a Kentucky area code....

My two-year contract was up. I could have stuck with my current phone company and kept my old phone, or signed with a new one and get a great deal on a new super-smart phone. New won.

I feel a bit weird about it now, away from all the websites touting its great features, away from the ease of ordering a new one with a few clicks. I'll need a new battery for my car, soon. I hope to take a vacation this March or July. I have other things I could/should spend that money on. Oh well. Hopefully I'll have the new one for a while, at least until my new two-year contract is up.

Good Times

Tonight about twenty of us met to say goodbye to one of our coworkers. She's going to a better place: South Carolina. It's fun seeing the people I work with outside the library, and because of differences in age and geography, we only get together for special events (such as someone leaving). We're generally educated, well-read, and bleeding heart liberals. Despite our education and empathy for the less-fortunate, we laughed the most over the many mean and stinky people we've encountered over the years in the library.

The New Austen

I missed writing yesterday -- too busy watching the entire first season of "Downton Abbey"! Everyone at work was talking about it (staff and customers alike) and I wanted to give the show a try. Six episodes later, I'm caught up on the first season and eager to see the next two.

The show reminds me of something Jane Austen would have produced, in that it focuses on rules and manners and the limitations for women. But because it takes place in the early 20th century, not 18th century, we see the seeds of change. Unlike an Austen novel, we spend as much time with the maids and footmen as we do the family being served. I've seen and read "Pride and Prejudice" countless times, as Austen is so clever in her dialogue and descriptions and astute in her observations. Watching each installment of "Downton Abbey" is like watching a new adaptation of an Austen novel (set 80 years later), where we don't know what's going to happen.

Ready, Set, Action!

I printed out all 278 pages of my draft, 12pt Font, Times New Roman. Double-spaced. I'm enjoying going through it with a purple pen and post-it notes, marking up things that are awkward or unnecessary. Much of chapter six, I realized, was awkward and unnecessary, so today I rewrote it.

There wasn't much action. Except for a paragraph that concludes the chapter, I could delete the whole thing and the story wouldn't miss a beat. In the previous version of the chapter, I had my protagonist feel threatened and scared by someone--a stranger. I was trying to develop her character, showing how vulnerable she felt even when it wasn't warranted. All the excitement was in her head.

But how much more exciting would the chapter be if instead of merely feeling threatened, she is actually threatened? Her fear is legitimate. She is vulnerable. I still get to develop her character by how she reacts to the fear and threat but, I think, it becomes a much stronger chapter.

Even though I started with a rough outline, I wasn't sure where I was going each page. I think I was afraid to write anything that might distract me from the larger story. But now that the larger story is finished, I'm psyched to return to individual pages and chapters and improve them.

Newt

My grandma is a fan of Newt Gingrich. As readers know, my nana is awesome. She knits me hats, bakes me cookies, and is generally the coolest 90yr-old ever. But she likes Newt. She thinks he's "so smart" and has "great ideas."

"Just listen to him," she says. "I know you like Obama but Gingrich knows how politics work and can get things done. We need someone like that."

She recognizes all his personal failings, with his three overlapping marriages. But she likes him. She likes Santorum, too--"The young guy," she calls him--but he's not ready yet.

I've stopped trying to argue with her. She'll never vote Democratic, anyway, because of the abortion issue, even though I think the President who got us out of Iraq is more pro-life than the one who invaded it.

It's just interesting to hear her perspective. Just as I started to wonder how anyone could ever in their right mind support Newt Gingrich for president, Nana gives me an explanation.

Five Things

Favorite Ice Cream Flavors

• Mint chocolate chip
• Peanut-butter and chip
• Chocolate chip cookie dough
• Moose Tracks
• Vanilla (with hot fudge or peanut butter)

(When I tried to think of what to write tonight, I had a brain freeze. Much like eating ice cream too fast.)

Whole Battles Waged in Our Heads

When I came home from my grandmother's this afternoon, I noticed that my boyfriend had cleaned up the condo; that is, the condo minus my half of the bedroom. I'm immediately offended. He wants me to clean! How rude! I spent the next twenty minutes angry, thinking he's passive-aggressively manipulated me into cleaning.

It was only after I was done (I wasn't happy about it, but I did it) that we talked and I realized that at no point did he suggest that I should clean. In fact he tried to get me to solve his Rubik's cube. I created the whole drama in my head.

Such is the life of an introvert, eh? Whole battles are waged in our heads. Grudges are held and forgiven without those around us aware of what has happened, only that we're vaguely annoyed.