On a Limb with Claudia

I amuse myself -- or geeky distractions for a snowy Thursday

This has been cracking me up. Since I knew that you were as geeky as I am, I thought that I'd share my amusement with you.

Of course, it's a little complicated -- otherwise it wouldn't be so amusing.

This is the Great Pyramid of Giza.

Using primarily conscripted labor (not slaves as the Greeks thought,) it took 27 years to build. For more than 3500 years, it was the tallest man-made building in the world. According to Wikipedia, "Approximately 5.5 million tonnes of limestone, 8,000 tonnes of granite, and 500,000 tonnes of mortar were used in the construction."

It's a monument to power and wealth. A boast that this Pharaoh was the wealthiest and most powerful person in the entire world.

Because grave robbing was common, this pyramid had such complicated anti-theft devices that the builders felt like it was impossible to get inside.

Graffiti inside the tomb helped determine that the structure was built by Pharaoh Khufu. Only then, were attributions found from authors, Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus.

What are we talking about here?

Basically, this Pharaoh, with all of his wealth and power, created a monument -- a tower if you will -- to himself and had his remains entombed there.

The tomb was robbed less than a year after it was finished. The people who entered the pyramid tunneled to an area just past all of those anti-theft mechanisms. Over time, they took everything -- including the Pharaoh's remains.

Khufu's pyramid stood empty -- a monument to no one -- for thousands of years. The Pharaoh who'd spent all of that money, effort, and time would have been lost to history if those making it hadn't left his name on the wall.

Here's the thing, the only way a person could enter into the Egyptian after-life is if living people knew and said his name.

It wasn't until the 1800s that anyone knew who was buried in this pyramid. And even then, it wasn't until the 1900s that anyone agreed.

As with most things ancient Egypt, it's always possible that Khufu wasn't the owner of this tomb.

Can you imagine spending all of that effort and money in an effort to be remembered, and enter the after life, but no one remembers you?

It's surprisingly common.

The wealthy and powerful believe that they are leaving a "legacy." However, they are mostly forgotten.

Even if they are remembered, often times their "legacy" is an embarrassment to their descendants. We've seen this recently with names being taken off sports teams, buildings, and statues coming down.

This is as true for wealthy people who own buildings as it is for best-selling authors or a woman who chased the Nazi's out of the Americas.

We live now and die.

No matter how wealthy or powerful we are, we are forgotten -- even if our names are on buildings or we save the world or we run countries.  (Don't believe me? Who was John Tyler?)

I find that quite refreshing, actually.

There's another side to this situation.

This is a sawfly that lived in the Miocene epoch, a time period that lasted from 23.03 million to 5.33 million years ago in what is now Australia.

At the time, Australia was a rain forest. By the end of this era, the environment became more like Australia is today.

This sawfly still has pollen on it.

We know what it is. We have even named it.

This fly, unearthed by a farmer, has a better chance of being remembered, categorized, and studied than the Pharaoh Khufu, who may have built a pyramid to celebrate himself.

This is actually how life works.

We know that there was a set of women who gave us each the same mitochondria and a man, who came much later, who gave modern men his "Y" chromosome.

They have names. "Mitochondrial Eve" and "Y-chromosome Adam." We can mark much of human migration, and thus human history, through their genetic donation. They are studied and talked about.

To the Egyptians, they are living a rich after-life.

Like this sawfly. It will be studied for a long time. There will be papers written about it. It will be famous and people will go see the sawfly. We'll learn about its life and activities. We'll know what it ate, how it procreated, and what life was like at that time.

This won't happen for the Pharaoh Khufu.

For all of his efforts, it's possible that a hundred years from now, no one will know his name. It's just as likely that someone else built the pyramid.

When you see these men and women prancing around, showing off their wealth and power, remember this -- they will likely be forgotten. Their wealth will be squandered either by ungrateful descendants or forgotten in whatever hiddy hole they shoved it into.

Money and power fade.  The meaning of even the greatest monuments is usually lost in the sands of time.

Time and death are the great equalizers.

If you ever feel unimportant or forgotten, just remember old Khufu and his pyramid.

He would have been better off to be a sawfly.

Life Admin overwhelm.

Have you noticed how much time you spend doing "Life Admin"?

Now, I should preface this with the fact that I remember when everything was analog.

If you wanted to deposit a check into the bank, you simply slipped an envelope under the door. (Yes, really.)

My father used to "drop off" bills because he didn't want to spend the stamp -- and there were places to drop off payments. (Of course, it never occurred to him that he was spending more gasoline in this little act of rebellion to convention. That's another matter.)

I remember my first ATM. I remember my first Internet bank transfer. I remember depositing a check using my phone.

These are luxuries I couldn't have imagined when I was growing up in my sleepy college town.

So hooray for convenience... and OMG, there's so much to do!

Trying for a simpler life, we have streamlined most of our accounts.

This helped a great deal when we did it, but now there's so many other accounts to manage.

Everything has a special login that they will happily share with Russian hackers at their earliest convenience. Or then there's Ransomware.

Of course, you can get a password protector that works until they are hacked and you're back in the position of changing all of your passwords and email addresses.

Some days, I'm completely overwhelmed by all of the life crap there is to do -- and that's not to mention visits with doctors for my back, pt,  scans, and... and... and...

And, there's so much more left to do!

How do you manage it all?

 

 

 

Peace be with you. #PeaceGlobe #Blog4Peace

I love this quote because it talks about our need to "learn" to live with kindness.

Most of us never learned to be kind. We learned how to state our point and be a leader.

We never learned that kindness is the backbone of a happy and healthy life.

I also like that he added "(E)ven when they do not love us."

It's hard to love people who do not love you back.

This is the work -- learn to be kind, learn to love even those who don't love us.

May peace be with you.

 

#Blog4Peace #PeaceGlobe #MimiLenox #GivePeaceAChance

Distracted? Here's what I do. #ProlificAuthor #WritingHack #NaNoWriMo #greatstuff

You live a busy life so you have to plan your writing time.

But... the dog is sick and the kids are home and the partner is watching the baseball playoffs and that's not to mention the friend who wants to chat with you about nothing and really wouldn't you rather rest?

The battle is real.

As soon as you decide to do anything, your resistance is going to rear its ugly head.

This is particularly true when you write. If you take the risk to write something, anything, you know that someone else will read this shit.

You want it to be a best-seller.

Now you're wasted a time looking up what authors wear to award ceremonies. Will you lose weight before the award ceremony? Now, you're looking up diets. Oh wait, Lisa Scottoline goes on a "no-carb" diet before she goes on author tour? Maybe you should try that. And while you're at it, don't you need to work out? Get your teeth bleached?

And your writing time is gone. Shit.

I have written the Denver Cereal since June, 2008. Except for six months last year, I've produced at least a chapter a week for 13 years.

What that means is that no matter what is going on, I have a 3,000 word chapter to write. I've written chapters right after major surgery. I once wrote while I was desperately sick with the flu. I've written chapters in the middle of the night when things were too busy to write it during the week. I've written chapters in many different states of the United States. I've written Denver Cereal chapters when I'm in the middle of writing another book.

Most certainly, I've written chapters when the game was on, the dogs were crazy, there were forty other things I wanted to investigate, and I needed to rest. Everything became harder and more intense during the pandemic when the husband started working at home full time.

If you write a traditional serial fiction, you don't have an option to just skip a week.

What do I do to stay focused?

There are two distinct things that I do.

First, I head over to Brain.fm and choose a program under "Focus." Their audio system is backed by science and guaranteed to shift your brain in less than 10 minutes. It really works.

I've tried every other system you can imagine from Centerpointe tapes to other apps. This is the program that works the best for me.

There are also programs to help you get to sleep and stay to sleep. They have medication tracks and one of my favorites -- relax and recharge.

If I'm going to get work done, I get it done with Brain.fm. It's seriously great stuff. In less than 10 minutes, my distractions fade and my fingers are tapping over the keyboard.

The app on your phone is a little better than the one on the computer, so make sure you download the app.

If you'd like a 20% discount if you use the code: claudiahallchristian or click on this link.

 

Brain.fm

 

 

Then, I read what I wrote last.

This can be a little tricky as it's possible to get immersed in what you wrote last and forget about moving forward in the story. Resistance rears it's ugly head when you're off looking for the perfect synonym for a word.

Use this re-read as a way of reminding yourself that you are capable. You wrote this last chapter or section. You can certainly write another chapter or two.

It's also a great way of filling  yourself up with your own story. You came to writing this story because the story fell into your brain. If you're like most people, you began to write this particular story because you were full to the brim of story.

Your innate resistance and your memory of your third grade teacher telling you that 'You're too stupid to write," will drain this well of your story.

To refill the well, re-read what you were writing last.

Breathe and let the story return to fill you up again.

The last thing I do is to set a realistic goal.

If I need to have a minimum of 3000 words for a week's chapter, I need at least 500 words for a day's post.

I sit down and get started. If things are going slowly, I make sure that I get at least 500 words.

Once I'm started, I rarely stop at 500 words.

But 500 words is a good goal.

Most authors write between 1,000 and 3,000 words a day. Pick something. See how it goes for you.

Just make sure that you don't get up from your seat until you've finished all of your word goal. If you think you're done for the day, get up, stretch, drink some water, and then get back to it. Often just this minimal movement will remind you of what you want to write next.

Good luck! If you have questions about writing, let me know!

Back to brain.fm and my own work...

 

I've never missed a vote. You?

I've voted in every election since I was able to vote.

I'm not bragging. I'm just saying that it's something that I've always done.

Why have I always voted?

Yes, it's something that "should" be done. Yes, it's super easy.

But there are a lot of easy things that I "should" do and have never considered doing.

Yet, I have always voted.

I think it has to do with the way I grew up.

You see, I am invisible to my family. My father used to say that I was the child who never seemed to need anything.

This is code for "When you ask for things, no one is listening." And truth be told, they were not listening.

They still don't listen.

I'm as invisible today to my family as I was growing up.

Members of my family quite literally do not remember me. I shared a room with a sister who literally has no memories of me in her life. We shared a room with for thirteen years.

When I speak with them, they don't ask how I am or what I'm doing.

They drone on and on and on and on about their lives. I'm just the fly on the other end of the line who listens, tried to help, and then is forgotten.

How does this relate to voting?

I vote because it's my chance to say what I want to have happen. I get to give my opinion on whether this or that should happen -- and how.

That's heady stuff for a middle child.

Someone asks my opinion about something and is interested in tallying it??

Seriously?

I'm there.

Do you vote? If so, have you wondered why? If you don't vote, what's your reason for it?

 

Today is the first day...

Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Or... Today is the first day of November... or...

Today is just another day in a life well lived.

I'm not sure.

We decided last week that we would begin the journey known as "The Elimination Diet" on the first of November. We'll give up caffeine, sugar, wheat, and dairy for 21 days. Or at least that's the plan.

You're probably thinking: "Why would you do that??" It's a valid question.

We originally did the elimination diet more than a decade ago at the encouragement of the amazing Dax Moy. We've used this diet off and on to refocus our attention onto our bodies and our lives.

During the years that I've been in and out of spine surgeries, I didn't feel like I could handle the pressure.

Now that things are a little more stable, we thought we would give it a try. Over the pandemic, our diets have strayed away from anything that would be called "healthy."

So it's time to refocus back on my life, my body, and the elimination diet is a great place to start. 

If we make it 21 days, we'll make a decision to see if we continue on this path or if we turn back to our more usual diet.

American Thanksgiving will happen right after we complete our first round of this journey. So we may be back eating everything and anything.

I've done this enough to know that sometimes what you learn is that it's too hard right now. And that's okay.

I thought that while I was going through this, I would pick up writing my blog again.

That's why I'm here today.

Welcome to day one of a change in diet toward letting go of the things that are not healthy for us.  Thanks for joining me on this journey.

If there's something that you'd like me to write about, please let me know.

 

 

 

Normal

Here in the US, actual people (that I know!) are getting their vaccines. There's a buzz in the air -- "Things are going to return to normal!"

For the last six years, "normal" has been a question on a "How are your symptoms?" questionnaire.

"On a scale of 1-10, how does your pain relate to normal?"

"How active were you this week as compared to normal?"

I finally started saying "What's normal?"

Six years ago, I wrote like a madwoman and went to PT in the hope of avoiding surgery.

And before that?

Quite honestly, I can't remember.

So let's say "normal" was before I went to have my first surgery. That would be 2016.

I wrote books, lots of books, went to PT, and regularly went out with friends. I had a mastermind friend that I met with for lunch every other week for 15 years. I went to the coffee shop that's in The Fey. We took ballroom dancing and hanged out with the ballroom dance crowd. We went to dinner parties and started a series of dinners with my neighbors. I zoomed with a group of paranormal writers and participated in a number of compilations.

My life was full of people and projects.

But when you get really sick, people start disappearing from your life.

The first to go was my mastermind friend. I never would have scheduled the surgery without him. So I owe him a debt there. He said,"Don't worry. We'll watch movies and eat junk food. It will be fun." By the time the actual surgery came around, he had stopped taking my calls or texted and unfriended me on social media. There wasn't a fight or a problem really. I didn't say "the wrong thing." (When you grow up around schizophrenics, this is a life long fear, and certainly mine.) He just walked away. (The cool kids call this "ghosting.") I'd had lunch with him, every other week, through thick and thin of his life, for nearly 15 years.

We tried to go back to ballroom dance in between surgeries, but my leg wasn't functioning well . The teacher freaked out about it. We had to stop ballroom dance. Without dance, the dance friends faded away.

I was so sick after my first surgery that we couldn't support the dinner group we'd started. (Of course, they would have stopped with Covid.)

My neighbors live busy lives and spun away.

The paranormal writing group folded.

Within a month of my first surgery, nearly everyone I'd spent time with before was gone from my life. Some left deliberately. Others just went on with their lives leaving me behind.

I had another spine fusion on March 3rd. While I was in the hospital, Covid struck.

Everyone's normal shifted.

Now, everyone's normal is starting to shift back.

Except mine.

I don't have a normal.

I have lived day to day, sometimes moment to moment, for such a long time that I can't imagine "normal."

As for friends, there have been some lovely people who have been there for me through thick and thin. They've dropped off food or met me places or included me in their lives (as much as I could be involved.) A couple came to see me in the hospital.

And, most certainly, the husband and the feral Plott hounds remain steady friends.

I need to plot a journey to building a life.

I'm not sure how or what or even where to start.

In someways, we are all in the same boat.

All of our "normals" have shifted.

Many of the places we hung out have closed. We still need to be wearing masks and socially distancing. Many people are struggling to take on the mantle of their busy, overstretched lives.

So all of us are looking at "normal" and wondering what it is.

For me, it's a big, gigantic question mark.

In some ways, the question mark is exciting. Everything is open. Anything is possible.

In other ways, it's as if there is a line on the ground.

Step over the line and...

My phone has a life of its own on TikTok

Someone named, possibly, "Rusty", used my cellphone number on TikTok.

 

He or she told his or her viewers that they should "call" to connect.

 

I've been getting calls non-stop since about 11 p.m, Saturday night.

 

I checked my TikTok account, changed the password, etc, but that wasn't the problem. I talked to the cellphone company and their only solution was to change the number on the phone or for me to try to wait it out. I would ask TikTok to take the post down, but I can't find it.

 

The calls are from very young girls -- teens? pre-teens? -- from around the world. They seem very excited or nervous. They're usually panting a little bit. When I've answered, they don't respond so there's no way to get information from those who call.

 

But they are calling for a reason. I'm not sure what.

 

And, I'm confident that they are not calling to speak with me.

 

As for me... I trying to wait it out. My phone is on "do not disturb" so I am now getting messages from breathless young girls from all over the globe.

 

Hopefully, this will end soon.

 

2013 or the rest of my life.

For reasons I can't really describe or defend, it's 2013 in my head.

I realized this when I stumbled onto Andrew Belle's album "Black Bear." It sounded new and perfect.

And, I remembered that sometime in the near past, I had listened to this album on YouTube on repeat for a while.

When did this album come out? I wondered.

So I went to look.

2013 -- before the country split apart in factions, before Covid-19, before spine surgeries and injections and long hospital stays and endless PT and more spine surgeries leading to more injections, PT, failing to recover, walnut sizes cysts impinging on nerves, and long hospital stays, before Hachette made a deal with Amazon, before...

In 2013, we bought a hybrid car. The husband found and bought four leaded windows salvaged from a house in Detroit. I worked with this lunatic to put them into the house. I had friends that I laughed with at over starchy breakfasts every other week. I went out to coffee houses, bought advertisements for the books, and participated in the insanity that is our neighborhood association. I started a dinner club where we added one couple with each meal and went from house to house.

I went to PT to try to get stronger. I returned to swimming again. Our dog, Rose, was old but still joyously living her best life. My sisters were mad at me but had been going on for more than a decade. I wrote a lot of books and could hardly wait to write more. I was involved in this crazy writing project.

I also wrote regularly on this blog.

Everything seemed possible in 2013.

Until it wasn't.

Seven years, three spine fusions, nearly a decade of PT, the death of Rose and introduction of our feral Plott hounds (Cassie and Dottie), my mother's death and the end to any primary family relationship, the friends scattered in a humiliating burst when surgery was imminent leaving only the oldest and dearest beloved friends, my profit margins dropped to a laughable state, I struggle to write due to crazy meds I have to take to keep the nerve pain down, our vegetable gardens were stripped away to make space for upgrading the sewer and electrical to support two people working full-time in this old house, and....

I am not saying that NOTHING is possible.

I just no longer believe that EVERYTHING is possible.

I don't know what's next for me, honestly.

Will I let it all go and find something else to do with the remainder of my life?

Will I just get on with writing, editing, marketing, selling books, laughing lunches, and the rest?

At this moment, in April 2021, I have no idea.

I hope to survive the Covid years. With one Moderna shot down, one to go, survival seems likely.

I hope to add movement to my life.

Currently, I cannot walk or stand for very long. I dream of being able to go to Costco or Target, on a lark, and walk around. Hiking and backpacking, let alone the 150 miles we walked of the Colorado Trail, seem like a long forgotten dream.

We do short, doable yoga programs every morning, and I'm swimming, some.

I need to get moving on writing projects -- Ava and Seth mystery novellas, another Alex the Fey thrillers, Abee Normal, and, of course, the Denver Cereal.

For now, I stand on the edge of what might be THE REST OF MY LIFE.

Everything is not possible. Nothing is impossible.

This necessarily means that some things are possible.

I just have no idea what. I hope to write about all of this here. After years of promising to blog again, and not showing up, I won't promise to be here.

I just hope that I will and together we will move.

Happy new year, 2021.

Well, 2020 was a year.

There are so many things to say.

I guess, mostly, I want to say -- here we are.

We are surviving through this pandemic. We are surviving working at home, schooling at home, dropping out and dropping in at home, making meals and wishing for meals, longing for work and for home, wishing for normal.

Happy new year.

May this be a year filled with laughter and joy. We owe it to all of those we've lost to enjoy the hell out of 2021.

I'm still writing -- Denver Cereal (of course) and other adventures.

I'm still working on the everyday kindness challenge.

I'm still hoping to garden next spring.

I'm still hoping to walk and stand -- the two hardest things for me since all of my spine fusions.

I'm still here.

I'm so very glad that you are too.