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Indigo Children
I joined Goodreads.com last week and linked up with some old friends while making a few new ones. I tried using LibraryThing for a while, but it didn’t really stick with me, so I was hesitant about this one. So far, though, it’s something I’ve started checking regularly – not just for the sake of curiosity and book recommendations, but for a means of cataloging my own personal library.
Here’s my Goodreads profile. Much to my surprise, ALT is actually on the site, so if you’ve read it, go leave your feedback.
I scribbled something down on a couple of post-it notes while at work on Friday. It’s something that’s been tumbling around my head for close to six months now and, even after reading it, I’m not sure what will come of it.
A word on comments: I’ve changed how the comments are posted to these blog entries. I used to not have any restrictions whatsoever – you could post whatever you liked, so long as you included a name and email address. I set it to require an email address so I could respond directly and privately. Naturally, when some folks like to be smart about it and put in a bogus email, I can’t respond. I’m afraid that’s not going to fly.
So, from now on, all comments will be moderated before they go live. If you don’t include a live email address, I’m going to delete your comment. It’s that simple. My apologies if this puts a dent in your anonymity, but I set up comments on the blog so I could interact with readers. If you absolutely have to remain anonymous, but put in your jabs anyway, you can email me directly.
On that note, I’m off to do lazy Sunday things. Enjoy what’s left of the weekend, folks.
TK
Stalling out into silence.
I’m borrowing this from Neil Gaiman’s blog:
Writers are people who write. By and large, they are not happy people. They’re not good at relationships. Often they’re drunks. And writing — good writing — does not get easier and easier with practice. It gets harder and harder — so eventually the writer must stall out into silence.The silence that waits for every writer and that, inevitably, if only with death (if we’re lucky the two may happen at the same time: but they are still two, and their coincidence is rare), the writer must fall into is angst-ridden and terrifying - and often drives us mad. (In a letter to Allen Tate, the poet Hart Crane once described writing as “dancing on dynamite.”) So if you’re not a writer, consider yourself fortunate.
Obviously I like this quote, or else I wouldn’t be posting it here. It also happens to be very, very true. While driving to work this morning, I was thinking about how I haven’t written anything since last week, since all that crap with the bank, and how I’ve just felt extremely unmotivated. I’m beginning to wonder if writing it all out by hand isn’t the best course of action to take. At times I feel overwhelmed by the story I have to tell. I thought breaking it up into smaller chunks would help. I thought about maybe going back, typing up the prologue and chapter one to see how it would look in print, and then go from there. Ultimately I’ve made no decision. Maybe I’ve reached a pocket of silence? Not death, of course, but perhaps I’m mentally tapped out at the moment? I’ve no shortage of ideas - in fact, there’s another one for a novel just screaming to get out, and I suppose if things don’t start moving again with imagiNATION, I may take it out of the box and tinker with it. We’ll see, though. I think I just need to take a few days and really meditate on chapter two, because it’s not going as well as I’d hoped. More on that soon.
I also realized I’ve not been doing much reading, either. I’m in the process of (slowly) reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy for the first time (yes, yes, I know I’m late to the party), as well as re-reading World War Z by Max Brooks. I also realized that Chuck Palahniuk’s latest novel has been out for two weeks and I completely forgot about it. And that’s when it hit me: I’ve no interest in reading it. That’s a first for me. Usually I’m there on day one and have finished the book in a matter of days. Now my reaction is simply “Meh.”
Seeing as how summer is here and I usually try to catch up on my reading, I’d love a whole number of recommendations. In the meantime I’ve got some story thinking to do.
’til next time,
TK
In your favor.
I’m no stranger to bad weeks, but this one stands out in recent memory as one of the absolute worst. I’d call it karma, except it all started when I tried to do the right, honest thing, so maybe I attracted the negative attention of the prankster gods out there with my good intentions.
Right. Here’s what happened:
Monday, while going over weekends expenditures and reconciling my bank statement, I discovered a $60 discrepancy. Simply put, $60 was missing from my account, and for no good reason. I called the bank and spoke with a rep who said that it appeared to be a cashed check. This immediately set off alarms since neither myself, nor Erica, had cashed anything recently. Unfortunately they could not give me any information about the check since it was still in the clearing process. “But don’t worry,” said the rep. “It’s just a $60 hold. That money will come available in your account after midnight.”
And it did. Along with a $1063.98 deposit that we didn’t make.
I’ve read stories about this happening to folks. Inexplicable bank errors that provide needy folks with sudden windfalls of cash. In some states it’s on the bank’s head; in others, you’re liable for not reporting it and can go to jail if you spend it. I wasn’t willing to take that chance. The weird thing, though, is that the deposit slip had Erica’s name on it, along with our account number. The date on the slip, however, added to the confusion: the deposit was made on Saturday when we weren’t anywhere near a bank. In fact, I haven’t set foot in my branch in over a month. My checks are deposited electronically, and when I need cash, I go to the ATM. These details ruled out fraud. I know scammers will deposit a few bucks to see if an account is live, but over a grand? That’s a little far-fetched.
Tuesday I called the bank again. It took almost six hours to resolve the mess, ending with a revelation of banking ineptitude. Apparently there’s a woman out there who share’s Erica’s full name. Our account numbers, however, are drastically different, but when the teller accepted this woman’s deposits (one of which being a US stimulus check) she pulled up her account by name instead of a social security number. The teller applied the money to the first account that popped up - which would be ours. The person with whom I spoke assured me the situation would be corrected and the teller reprimanded. I was led to believe this isn’t the first time it’s happened with this particular teller, so I didn’t exactly feel sorry for the person. I hung up the phone satisfied and content that it was all squared away.
Then Wednesday came along and pulled the rug out from under me. I checked my account and discovered the bank had deducted the funds twice. This left me overdrawn for the first time in my life, with bills pending along with a bunch of other purchases, all of which were now liable for $33 overdraft charges. Each. Yes, had the overdraft charges taken effect, I would’ve owed the bank over $300 in fees. I actually sat at work for two hours off the clock trying to resolve the issue, and it was with the help of an amazing customer service rep named Jennifer who went to bat for me, contact the branch, and go them to reverse their error and waive all of those fees.
The other woman got her money back (as far as I know). My account’s back where it should be. My bills have been paid. I’m going tomorrow and opening an account with a credit union. Once everything’s squared away with that, I’ll be closing my current account. It was rather scary, being completely penniless for two hours; what’s worse is knowing that it wasn’t my fault at all, but the fault of carelessness.
So yeah. That was my week. Combined with the record heat and humidity, I’m feeling quite drained at the moment. I just hope weekend’s better. Have a good one, folks.
Until next time,
TK