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That’s Writing AND Typing!

Earlier today I was talking to my sister Vicki, and she was saying how she and her husband were having difficulties with a new device that I confess would mystify me as well.

“Because we’re stupid,” she explained.

“You are not stupid,” I assured her. “You are OLD.”

I surmised that she would rather be stupid.  Be that as it may, here is my story about how today I was old, and Old School.

First, a confession.  I am usually last-minute with the murder mysteries I write, especially the conclusions. I am not going to try to explain it, much less justify it, but there it is.  I had the script typed into my laptop and emailed to my actors this morning (yes, I was last minute, or perhaps last hour for that).  I had to go to Basloe Library to print it out for a few of us.  The others were able to print their own.  I like to save the conclusion for the first rehearsal, to see if the actors are as mystified as I hope the audience will be.  In this case, I had not finished writing it.  Don’t judge me.

I had thought I would have it written by now and print it out at the library, perhaps making copies at Hummel’s Office Plus.  I am embarrassed to admit that I did not.  However, all was not lost.  I could finish it today, and type it into my desk top, which is still good for word processing purposes.  I just had to get a new cartridge for the printer and print out sufficient copies.  No problem.  I got Steven to get the cartridge out, and off I went to Hummel’s to say, “I need one of these.”

Did I mention that my desk top is kind of old?  They didn’t have the cartridge I needed.  The fellow I talked to thought they could order it and have it by Tuesday, which was too late for a Sunday rehearsal, and then he found out he couldn’t even get it.  I asked about typewriter ribbons, thinking of my minor collection of typewriters. They have cartridges for Brotherton electric typewriters and that was all.  Oh dear.

I tried Wal-Mart.  A nice man there looked on the shelf, although he was pretty sure they did not have it.  Indeed, they did not. He showed me a couple of printers I could purchase, ink included.  I could hook these up to my laptop, with or without wires.  That would be perfect! Alas, I am not beforehand enough with the world to just make a purchase like that.  Still, if all else failed, I could keep it in mind. After all, Wal-Mart is open all night, and I have a credit card.

Back home, I went up to the attic and looked for typewriters.  First I found several notebooks empty or mostly so.  Score!  I always need more notebooks.  Then I saw a really old one, but the ribbon was dry (I put a scrap of paper in and checked) (yes, my attic is quite messy and there was plenty of paper handy).  Ah, there was my electric typewriter, which did not look like a Brotherton.  I brought it downstairs anyways.  The ribbon was pretty sad.  No good.

I remembered seeing a Smith-Corona upstairs, such as my mother used to have many years ago.  I remembered buying it at a garage sale some time ago and purchasing a new ribbon for it.  It was some years ago, but maybe the ribbon was still good.  I brought it down.  No ribbon at all! I went up to the library (that is what we call one of the bedrooms that we put all our books in).  I had some idea that the ribbon might be there.  I don’t know why, but I looked.  There was another Smith-Corona typewriter!  I didn’t remember that I had two, but so I do.  And this one had a ribbon!

After ascertaining that the ribbon still had ink, I found that my fingers are no longer up to a manual typewriter.  In my defense, it was the 1980’s when I was in the habit of using one.  I took the ribbon out and put it into the electric typewriter.  I soon found that this typewriter had a lot more problems than needing a ribbon.  Never mind the fact that I didn’t put the ribbon in correctly and it kept slipping off the holders.  The “b” key stuck, the “t” didn’t work at all, this was a mess!  I couldn’t compose at this keyboard!

OK, I told myself. Just write out the conclusion, then worry about typing it.  If worse came to worse, I could just email it to everyone and beg those with printers to print out extra copies for us that needed them.  It turned out pretty easy to write, and fit in nicely with what came before.  Does that mean I should have just gone ahead and written it earlier, or that I needed to wait this long for it to be so good?  We’ll pretend it was the second.  I tried to type it up, dealing with the erratic ribbon and bad keys.  It did not go so well.  For one reason, the ribbon wasn’t moving along as it is supposed to, so I was typing everything on the same little bit of ink.

Finally I put the ribbon back on the machine I found it on and typed in that damn conclusion.  I kept making stupid typos, which I could not correct, being on a typewriter not a computer, but I persevered.  It actually got a little easier as I went.  I got it done in time to get back to Hummel’s to make copies. Woohoo!

Wow!  I am over 900 words!  What a post!  I hope you remember the reference in my headline.  Truman Capote famously said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.”  Well, Truman, sometimes you do both.

 

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No, I’m Not Going to Act and Type!

I tried that before.  Shit happens, as we all know, then I don’t type at all. And as Truman Capote once said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.”

Where was I?  Ah yes, about to make an especially Lame Friday Post before I go back to either frantically chopping vegetables or thrusting my hot-flashing body into pantyhose (sorry if that gives you an unfortunate mental image)  (not real sorry) (OK, not sorry at all, ha ha on you!).  I’m thinking, this is actually a Flustered Friday post.  You’ll have that when you’re in a play.

And here they are: my acting friends!

Yes, I’ve shared this picture before.  It is one of my favorites.   I actually think it is kind of good I am so flustered, or I might begin to become melancholy.  This will be my last performance with a cast I have grown very fond of.  As I observed before in this space: not a stinker amongst them, and none of them seems to mind that I am kind of a stinker myself (not literally, mind you, it’s an EXPRESSION, don’t be so didactic!) (you know who you are).

As regular readers may remember, tonight LiFT Theatre Company will perform The Tempest at a dinner theatre at Herkimer Elks Lodge.  Who knew the Elks were so cultured?  They were a great audience last year for Much Ado About Nothing, so we have all been looking forward to this performance.  For another reason, it is indoors.  No worries about rain and it is just a little bit easier to make ourselves heard.

I have been saying my lines all day at work, sometimes to suitably impressed co-workers.  There is nothing to do now but get into costume and remember to breathe (which is not as easy as it may sound) (either one).  And hit Publish, because, lame as this may be, it is my Friday post. Have a wonderful evening, everyone.

 

 

I Didn’t Act and Type

So yesterday before our play, I just felt I could not write a post.  I thought to myself, “That’s OK.  Sometimes on a Saturday, I drink and type.  Today I’ll act and type!”  That was my plan, and it was a good one (it has been a saying of mine since army basic training: “That’s my plan and I think it’s a good one.”).  Except I didn’t come right home after the play.  I went to a lady’s house.  I drank wine.  I knew I wasn’t driving, and that was good, because I put the seat back and slept part of the way home.  That may have been awkward had I been driving.

The show went wonderfully.  That is, The Tempest by LiFT, Little Falls Theatre Company, in Caroga Lake, for those just tuning in or who forgot. I love acting, and I love community theatre.  This play has a delightful cast.  I like to hug the entire cast before a performance.  That gets awkward when there are people in the cast I don’t like.  Today I got pre-show and post-show hugs.  I can get very huggy.

Anyways, I went straight to bed when I finally got home.  I would still be asleep if it was up to me.  However, my husband has to be up.  He gets up early with me all week; I guess I can get up semi-early with him on the weekend.  As a added bonus, I can type in a kind of a blog post to make up for my miss on Saturday (that’s not writing, that’s typing, as Truman Capote once said).  Additionally, I did not have Lame Post Friday this week, which I almost always do.  So we an call this a Really REALLY Lame Post Saturday.  I hope to see you all later today on what is sure to be Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

 

When in Vermont

I promised you a pretty post in the near future , and here it is.  Full disclosure (there’s no colon on this dumb Tablet!  Grrrrr!) I’m typing on Mt Tablet with the stylus.  It is not easy, but I will persevere.

I LOVE libraries!

This is Martha Canfield Library in Arlington, VT, which has saved my blogging bacon on several occasions.  Who knew you could just sit outside a library and get on the Internet, even when it isn’t open?  Oh, you probably knew.

Of course I prefer to be inside the library.  This is a really nice one, too.  I’ll have to take some inside pictures on a future visit.  In the meantime, here are the pictures I took outside.

Isn’t he handsome?

Naturally I wanted to get a shot of my husband, Steven.  We found this spot had the least glare.  It was quite a sunny day.

I don’t know who Jean Woodman is.

This is embarrassing.  I did not get any shots of the flowers, just the plaque.

Not surprisingly, I don’t know what mountain this is either.

When in Vermont, one sees plenty of mountains.  I guess I could have gotten a few more pictures of them.  In my defense, it is not easy taking pictures with a Tablet on a bright sunny day (cue jokes about how the day was bright but I wasn’t).

One last note (again with the no colon!) I have succeeded in typing in this entire post on my Tablet with the stylus.  Once again, I triumph.

 

Tired After Typing on Wuss-out Wednesday

I interrupt my typing to… type something else.  I have been typing into my laptop the script for He Laughed Himself to Death, the interactive murder mystery dinner theatre to be presented by Ilion Little Theatre at Morningstar Methodist Church in Ilion, NY on April 1. Phew, that was a mouthful.

Yes, I am late getting the script typed up, but we have not started rehearsals yet, so I am OK.  Luckily, murder mysteries do not take as much rehearsal time as full-length plays.

The murder mystery takes place at a special stockholders meeting of Gorman’s Gotchas, a company that makes novelty jokes such as plastic poo, whoopy cushions, exploding cigars, etc.  The founder of the company, Norman Gorman, wants to sell out to a conglomerate called Corporate Realignment Associated Products, but others in the company do not want to sell.  They are also a little tired of Norman’s incessant practical joking.  I really think I need to go to the store and purchase some plastic poo.  To  inspire myself if nothing else.

I have experienced this problem before:  I spend some good time working on another writing project, then I have no oomph left to make my blog post.  Then again, I did threaten yesterday to have a Wuss-out Wednesday today.  I wonder if I will be able to manage something better than a Non-Sequitur Thursday tomorrow.  Oh dear.

In my defense, Steel Magnolias opened last weekend and continues this weekend.  True, I have not had rehearsals every night this week as I did last week.  But I am still tired.  I am not a young woman, and I do not lead the healthiest lifestyle.  I’ll have to work on that.  I’ll be sure to write a blog post about it when I do.

 

Typing… About… Writing…

Must… get… blog… post… written.

You know, like in the comic books?  I don’t read a lot of comic books, but I know there is often a frame with the hero going through something dire and saying he must… do… something…  I find that perfectly appropriate for Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

I truly am feeling very wrist to foreheady this afternoon.  For anyone just tuning in, wrist to forehead refers to the old timey heroines about to swoon.  I stole the expression “wrist to forehead” from a former co-worker.  I think I made the pose and she said, “It’s a wrist to forehead situation.”  I know I have explained this before, so my apologies to longtime readers for being redundant.

The reason for my current angst is that I am having the damnedest time writing.  Yesterday I managed six post cards and a blog post.  I have other things to write!  What the blankety-blank is my problem?  I know, I know, I have to just sit down and bloody well do it.  Well, I am.  The first thing I have to write is today’s blog post.  And here I am, typing away at it (as Truman Capote famously said, and as I have previously quoted, “That’s not writing, that’s typing”).

And I see I am over 200 words.  That is all I require of myself for a blog post.  Self-indulgent, you say?  That could be.  Then again, I am not burdening my readers with too long of a post.  I don’t always read the really long posts myself.  Oh dear, any bloggers reading this who make really long posts might take offense at that.  Then again, you never know. Maybe I read all of THEIR posts, and it’s the BORING long posts I give up on.  I hope nobody has given up on me.  That would really be a wrist to forehead situation.

 

Typing on Tired Tuesday

I felt so tired yesterday, I was sure I would be less tired today, obviating the need for a Tired Tuesday post today.  I did write today.  I spent my breaks at work and some time after work composing my article for Mohawk Valley Living magazine.  It will be a good article.  I hope.  I’m letting it cool off before I re-read it.  At least, I guess it’s my brain that needs to cool off.  The actual article won’t change as it sits.

It is so interesting to me about my articles.  First I have to sit there thinking, “I can’t write this.  I am not able to write this.  Maybe I can write this later.  I can’t write this now.  Whatever will I do if I can’t write this?”  Then I put pen to paper and write it.  Sometimes I get to the second part fairly quickly.  This time I didn’t do too badly.

What I need to do now is apply the “put pen to paper and write” step to my other writing projects:  the banana play, my novel (which novel?  ANY novel!  Pick one I’ve started any time these last forty-odd years!) (um, yes, very odd years).  I keep thinking I am about to do just that, and something seems to stop me.  I’m afraid it is me.  That is rather an embarrassing admission, but it is empowering as well.  The problem is me?  Well, who controls me but ME?  Who can change me?  ME!

Only right now I’m too tired.

Ah, there is something to work on.  I feel sure I am able to write when I am tired.  It is just a matter of doing it.  Like, for example, right now. I am WRITING (actually typing) a foolish blog post (yes, as Truman Capote said, “that’s not writing, that’s typing;” insult me if you like, but acknowledge where you got the quote).  If I can write a foolish blog post when I am tired, no doubt I can write something else.  Maybe a non-foolish blog post?  Let’s not ask for miracles.  Especially on Tired Tuesday.