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The thing about Obamacare is that it doesn't really kick in till 2014. So, in 2013, I'm still dealing with the weird, weird, impossible old system.
( much more rumination about health insurance than you want to read )
On another front, I am quite annoyed that "the Postman" as a badass post-apocalyptic fantasy figure appears to- have entered the amateur fiction writer's bag of stupid tricks. It's an Alarming Trend (i.e., I've seen more than one in the last week. Seem, not read. There are limits to my appetite for stupid free fiction) To the the extent that the book of that name worked, which is an arguable extent, it was because it was a surprise gimmick, and based on a premise which, frankly, doesn't really make too much sense in the light of subsequent developments since the stupid book was written.
Of course, I could do without any more post-apocalyptic crap at all for the rest of my life, thank you. I can just about stand to read normal war-torn landscapes, but I'd like to see reconstruction, thank you. And not, thnak you, self-suifficient isolated compounds defending themselves against boring old zombies, please.
On still another front, I realized after reading more of Fritz's memoirs about world war one, I had completely misunderstood how shrapnel works. I had thought it was a side effect of shells whose main purpose was to cause damage by impact, but in fact, shrapnel is the whole point. This is what comes of insufficient research (or maybe, the correction is what comes of sufficient research). I was looking for what it was like for the men on the gunner team, and focusing on the physicality and demands of loading and firing the gun: I missed out, until now, the actuality of what happens at the other end. It does require (fortunately subtle) changes all through this section of the book, but nothing I can't handle, and it actually solves some story problems. And that's soemthing I keep finding with this stuff. When I find out game-changing information, it almost never causes me to lose more than I gain in story.
People keep warning you that too much research will keep you from writing, but I haven't been finding this to be the case. But I don't think I'm doing too much research, either, so I may be not near to the phenomenon I'm being warned about.
And last: Truffle and I went to the parade. I was late as usual so we missed most of it but it was a nice outing anyway. She was ready to turn towards home before we had got to the end of the Avenue, so the whole walk was well less than two miles, but that's all right. I'm a little worried about her. She's thrown up several times in the last few days, which makes me worry not only about why she is doing that but also about whether she's retaining her medicine. She's also a bit depressed acting, which might be the rain, or it might be nit getting out enough. I'll try addressing the latter and see how it goes.
I lied about that being the last thing. Youtube. Just youtube, what can I say? I found a "Scottish" playlist suggested because I was listening to Ewan MacColl singing about Dick Turpin, and it's mostly different not-amazing renditions of "A man's a man for a' that," which is a very nice song, and stirring, but the other songs on the list are mostly random Child ballads, so the total effect is kind of diluted and perplexing. And the other day I was listening to Rammstein and the suggested videos were all Sandy Denny. I tested: for Sandy Denny, the suggested videos were all Rammstein.
( much more rumination about health insurance than you want to read )
On another front, I am quite annoyed that "the Postman" as a badass post-apocalyptic fantasy figure appears to- have entered the amateur fiction writer's bag of stupid tricks. It's an Alarming Trend (i.e., I've seen more than one in the last week. Seem, not read. There are limits to my appetite for stupid free fiction) To the the extent that the book of that name worked, which is an arguable extent, it was because it was a surprise gimmick, and based on a premise which, frankly, doesn't really make too much sense in the light of subsequent developments since the stupid book was written.
Of course, I could do without any more post-apocalyptic crap at all for the rest of my life, thank you. I can just about stand to read normal war-torn landscapes, but I'd like to see reconstruction, thank you. And not, thnak you, self-suifficient isolated compounds defending themselves against boring old zombies, please.
On still another front, I realized after reading more of Fritz's memoirs about world war one, I had completely misunderstood how shrapnel works. I had thought it was a side effect of shells whose main purpose was to cause damage by impact, but in fact, shrapnel is the whole point. This is what comes of insufficient research (or maybe, the correction is what comes of sufficient research). I was looking for what it was like for the men on the gunner team, and focusing on the physicality and demands of loading and firing the gun: I missed out, until now, the actuality of what happens at the other end. It does require (fortunately subtle) changes all through this section of the book, but nothing I can't handle, and it actually solves some story problems. And that's soemthing I keep finding with this stuff. When I find out game-changing information, it almost never causes me to lose more than I gain in story.
People keep warning you that too much research will keep you from writing, but I haven't been finding this to be the case. But I don't think I'm doing too much research, either, so I may be not near to the phenomenon I'm being warned about.
And last: Truffle and I went to the parade. I was late as usual so we missed most of it but it was a nice outing anyway. She was ready to turn towards home before we had got to the end of the Avenue, so the whole walk was well less than two miles, but that's all right. I'm a little worried about her. She's thrown up several times in the last few days, which makes me worry not only about why she is doing that but also about whether she's retaining her medicine. She's also a bit depressed acting, which might be the rain, or it might be nit getting out enough. I'll try addressing the latter and see how it goes.
I lied about that being the last thing. Youtube. Just youtube, what can I say? I found a "Scottish" playlist suggested because I was listening to Ewan MacColl singing about Dick Turpin, and it's mostly different not-amazing renditions of "A man's a man for a' that," which is a very nice song, and stirring, but the other songs on the list are mostly random Child ballads, so the total effect is kind of diluted and perplexing. And the other day I was listening to Rammstein and the suggested videos were all Sandy Denny. I tested: for Sandy Denny, the suggested videos were all Rammstein.
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