A Change of Thanksgiving Plans, Edinburgh Dreaming & Nanowrimo
Well, my great plan to spend Thanksgiving in Philadelphia is bust. I hadn't checked my schedule properly and my evening class will still be in session until 7 December. I may still go to Philadelphia in December but I won't be spending Christmas there. This year, I want to spend Christmas either in Stockholm or somewhere warm with just Tord beside me. If I go to Philly in December, it will only be for ten days. I want to be in Stockholm a few days before Christmas.
Tord has also mentioned going to Edinburgh again--which thrills me to bits!
I love Edinburgh. Something about the city speaks to me. I like to joke that in a past life I must have lived there but I think the most evocative thing about Edinburgh is the combination of its architecture and the weather. There's something very moody there, the contrast of light and shadow. The first time I went there I fell in love with the city's rainswept streets and the awe-inspiring castle. It was winter and everyone said we were crazy for going there in January. The weather actually reminded me of Philadelphia in winter. I wasn't bothered by the cold rain (though I hate hate hate it in Stockholm). I loved how eerie it felt walking along King's Stables Road and passing St. Cuthbert's cemetery just after midnight when a heavy fog blanketed the city.
In June, we went to Edinburgh again so I could do some research for a novel I'm working on. This time we walked along the Water of Leith, explored Stockbridge and Dean Village as well as a lovely afternoon stroll in the Royal Botanic Garden. In the evenings we popped into the Oxford Bar for pints and World Cup fever. The barkeep changed Tord's name to Jimmy MacDougall, just out of prison. While enjoying our pints and watching the Italy-US match, we met an older couple who were going to visit their daughter in New York in September; it would be their first trip to the United States. We stayed at the Bonham and had a fantastic view of the Firth of Forth from our fourth floor room.
I could go to Edinburgh again in a heartbeat.
Now...Only a few more days until the start of Nanowrimo. I have been scribbling notes for how I'd like this year's Nanowrimo novel to progress. So far, I have ten pages of notes. At first I wasn't sure what I would write about. I thought I'd just let the muse lead me--which I did last time. But this time, I've decided to write a romance. Okay, the last novel was sort of chick lit/romance and so is this one... Anyway, I decided to write this year's novel because I read someone else's novel, hated the female main character [who was just so god-awful annoying I wanted to slap her] and thought, "This book sucks! I could write a similar story better!" So I'm going to put my money where my mouth is and set about doing just that. On November 1 I will be typing away, trying to get at least 3000 words written of my 3000 word/day challenge. Once it's done, I ought to have a good enough first draft to use as a springboard for a good revision, which could then be sent out to agents.
We shall see, we shall see...
Monday, October 23, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Nanowrimo and Thanksgiving
Every November there are two things I know I can count on: the start of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month--which is actually International, and not just National) and Thanksgiving.
Now I cannot claim to be one of those Nanowrimo veterans who've participated from the word "go". I first found out about it in 2003 when Rebecca, a fellow SWGer (although she is in New Mexico for the time being) told me about it. Back then, I didn't have time to participate. I was teaching close to 40 hours/week and barely had much time for myself, much less trying to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. But I signed up in 2004, participated and was one day late hitting the 50,000+ word deadline. On 1 December, I managed to complete my 51,500 word manuscript, which I have now decided to revise and see if I can do anything with.
I'd planned on participating in 2005 but I'd just started a new job with loads of papers to grade, and it didn't leave me with a great deal of free time. I spent the entire month of November grading student essays and hardly any time writing.
This year, however, I have a better plan. My students' first draft of their argumentation essay isn't due until the first week of November--and I will not be collecting it. They will complete a peer review workshop. I won't see a draft of the paper until the second or third week of November, which--hopefully--will give me enough time to get a headstart on my Nanowrimo novel.
The only thing that could possibly throw me a little off course is my intense longing to be in the States for Thanksgiving. I have not been Stateside for Turkey Day since 1994. I moved to Sweden in 1995 and have come home for such occasions as Christmas, my dad being admitted into a nursing home after multiple strokes and my brother's wedding/my grandmother's funeral. Last Christmas wasn't so great--on Christmas Day, I was debilitated with the migraine from hell and was out of commission most of the day. Plus, it's not so wonderful to feel so awful--I couldn't open my eyes because they were so sensitive to light, and my ears ached because any sound that was too loud made me feel like my head would explode just like in Scanners--and suddenly have my sister screaming at her daughter over something that, in the long run, was not very important.
I was nauseous all day, thanks to the migraine. I didn't get out of bed until close to 4PM. Even then, I didn't want to get dressed, because I was afraid that something would trigger the migraine again. But I was lucky--the evil migraine dissipated, and I was able to sit down to dinner with my family without anything triggering another attack.
Anyway, now I am thinking I should go home for Turkey Day. It's not necessarily the best planning: my students will be planning to hand in their portfolios and I will be away for ten days (if I book the tickets). But I really really really miss my mom and my nieces. I miss my crazy brother--and there's even a smidgen of me that misses my sister. But I am also just homesick, period. I know it will not be the Utopian Thanksgiving memory I have in my head (which probably never existed in the first place) but I just want to be in the US again, even if it is only for ten days, and listen to Philadelphians bitching and moaning about whatever it is they usually bitch and moan about.
I want to eat a cheesesteak the day after Thanksgiving, take a long walk, go to Reading Terminal and buy some cookies for my mom's and my evening snack, buy some new flannel pyjamas for my husband (especially since I can never find good quality flannel pyjamas in Sweden, despite how effin' cold it is hereduring the winter!) and maybe indulge in my favorite extravagances: books and shoes.
I know if I come for Christmas I will have more time, but this year I am actually looking forward to a calm, Swedish Christmas.
So I will I have to budget my time well. I want to complete Nanowrimo on time and manage to spend Turkey Day in Philly. Let's keep our fingers crossed that I manage to do both. :-)
Every November there are two things I know I can count on: the start of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month--which is actually International, and not just National) and Thanksgiving.
Now I cannot claim to be one of those Nanowrimo veterans who've participated from the word "go". I first found out about it in 2003 when Rebecca, a fellow SWGer (although she is in New Mexico for the time being) told me about it. Back then, I didn't have time to participate. I was teaching close to 40 hours/week and barely had much time for myself, much less trying to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. But I signed up in 2004, participated and was one day late hitting the 50,000+ word deadline. On 1 December, I managed to complete my 51,500 word manuscript, which I have now decided to revise and see if I can do anything with.
I'd planned on participating in 2005 but I'd just started a new job with loads of papers to grade, and it didn't leave me with a great deal of free time. I spent the entire month of November grading student essays and hardly any time writing.
This year, however, I have a better plan. My students' first draft of their argumentation essay isn't due until the first week of November--and I will not be collecting it. They will complete a peer review workshop. I won't see a draft of the paper until the second or third week of November, which--hopefully--will give me enough time to get a headstart on my Nanowrimo novel.
The only thing that could possibly throw me a little off course is my intense longing to be in the States for Thanksgiving. I have not been Stateside for Turkey Day since 1994. I moved to Sweden in 1995 and have come home for such occasions as Christmas, my dad being admitted into a nursing home after multiple strokes and my brother's wedding/my grandmother's funeral. Last Christmas wasn't so great--on Christmas Day, I was debilitated with the migraine from hell and was out of commission most of the day. Plus, it's not so wonderful to feel so awful--I couldn't open my eyes because they were so sensitive to light, and my ears ached because any sound that was too loud made me feel like my head would explode just like in Scanners--and suddenly have my sister screaming at her daughter over something that, in the long run, was not very important.
I was nauseous all day, thanks to the migraine. I didn't get out of bed until close to 4PM. Even then, I didn't want to get dressed, because I was afraid that something would trigger the migraine again. But I was lucky--the evil migraine dissipated, and I was able to sit down to dinner with my family without anything triggering another attack.
Anyway, now I am thinking I should go home for Turkey Day. It's not necessarily the best planning: my students will be planning to hand in their portfolios and I will be away for ten days (if I book the tickets). But I really really really miss my mom and my nieces. I miss my crazy brother--and there's even a smidgen of me that misses my sister. But I am also just homesick, period. I know it will not be the Utopian Thanksgiving memory I have in my head (which probably never existed in the first place) but I just want to be in the US again, even if it is only for ten days, and listen to Philadelphians bitching and moaning about whatever it is they usually bitch and moan about.
I want to eat a cheesesteak the day after Thanksgiving, take a long walk, go to Reading Terminal and buy some cookies for my mom's and my evening snack, buy some new flannel pyjamas for my husband (especially since I can never find good quality flannel pyjamas in Sweden, despite how effin' cold it is hereduring the winter!) and maybe indulge in my favorite extravagances: books and shoes.
I know if I come for Christmas I will have more time, but this year I am actually looking forward to a calm, Swedish Christmas.
So I will I have to budget my time well. I want to complete Nanowrimo on time and manage to spend Turkey Day in Philly. Let's keep our fingers crossed that I manage to do both. :-)
Friday, October 06, 2006
Stockholmers: Saying "excuse me" doesn't cost a dime (or even a krona)!
One of the first things I noticed back in 1995 when I first moved to Sweden was that Stockholmers were adverse to the concept of saying "excuse me" if someone was standing in their way. Instead, they preferred to use what I like to call Swedish Mindmeld, which doesn't work on non-Swedes. Is it really that difficult to say "excuse me" or "pardon me" or even "ursäkta"? It isn't as though it costs anything (other than a little air in your lungs) to be polite.
That's right, Stockholmers, saying "ursäkta" will not drain your wallets or your bank accounts.
So what is this Swedish Mindmeld? Don't get excited--it's not a sex-game or even remotely titillating. Swedish Mindmeld involves standing there staring at you (or the back of your head) and trying to will you to move aside. If that doesn't work, then they just knock past you as hard as they can and then make a noise that sounds something like "hmph" or "ooof". This is usually punctuated by a supposedly meaningful glare. Then they stomp off, triumphant that they have regained control of the situation.
By now you're either laughing and thinking this can't be true or you're nodding in recognition because you've been through it too. After eleven years of living in Stockholm, I don't get too annoyed anymore by it--well, that's a bit of a fib, else I wouldn't bewritingg this. Most of the time, I ignore it. Every now and again, I mentally toss a curse on the person who knocked me out of the way so they could get on the bus before me so that they could walk even slower than I was in their pursuit of an empty seat. To be honest, it's not even worth the hassle of getting too angry. It's become more of game these days.
Today, though, it bugged me. And I think the reason it bugged me was because it was an older couple, and they were ruthless in their quest to make sure that they boarded bus 53 before anyone else. Now, my parents raised me to respect my elders. I nearly always offer my seat on the subway or bus to older people if there are no other seats available. When not surrendering my seat to the elderly, I do so for pregnant women and people on crutches. As I was standing at the bus stop, I noticed two elderly couples and thought, when the bus comes, I'll let them get on ahead of me. It seemed like everyone else was thinking the same thing to because, when the bus pulled in, people were trying to move aside for the elderly couples. The only people who didn't move was a woman who was carrying a sleeping child, holding the hand of another small child and carrying a bag of groceries all at the same time. She didn't see the elderly couples--she was listening to what her daughter was saying. As the bus door opened, the first elderly couple eased around the young woman and said "ursäkta"--she moved aside and smiled an apology at them.
The other elderly couple, however, shoved the woman, nearly knocking her over. Her sleeping child almost fell, the bag of groceries fell out of the woman's left hand and her other daughter lost her balance and hit her knee on the sidewalk. I went over and helped the woman gather her groceries again while she tried to calm down her daughters. And what did the second elderly couple do? They sneered at her as they climbed onto the bus, shook their heads and made comments about how she ought to respect her elders. That really got my goat!
After I'd helped the woman, I let her and her daughters get on the bus ahead of me. And do you know what sight greeted me once I'd boarded? That same elderly couple dithering in the middle of the aisle about where to sit, thereby preventing everyone else from making much progress. A man in his thirties eased around them and took a seat. They grumbled and muttered how rude he was. Then, when the next passenger, a teenager with a skateboard, tried to go around them, the old woman lashed out at him, bellowing at him in Swedish, "You were not raised properly!"
Well, after a while, the cantankerous (second) older couple decided they would not sit after all. They stood in the midsection of the bus, where people with baby carriages or luggage usually stand. I wondered when they'd leave the bus and who they'd terrorize next. I should have known it would be me.
When I disembarked at the Sabbatsberg bus stop, they were behind me. I was carrying a heavy bag with supplies for the writers' retreat I'll be on all weekend. I knew they were behind me so I moved to the right so I wouldn't block their way. This didn't help. Just as I was stepping off the bus, the old man shoved me! I was quick enough that I didn't fall. As they pushed past me (completely unnecessary since there was plenty of room on the sidewalk) the old man directed a withering glare at me.
I couldn't help myself, I shouted after them: "You weren't raised properly, were you?!?!"
One of the first things I noticed back in 1995 when I first moved to Sweden was that Stockholmers were adverse to the concept of saying "excuse me" if someone was standing in their way. Instead, they preferred to use what I like to call Swedish Mindmeld, which doesn't work on non-Swedes. Is it really that difficult to say "excuse me" or "pardon me" or even "ursäkta"? It isn't as though it costs anything (other than a little air in your lungs) to be polite.
That's right, Stockholmers, saying "ursäkta" will not drain your wallets or your bank accounts.
So what is this Swedish Mindmeld? Don't get excited--it's not a sex-game or even remotely titillating. Swedish Mindmeld involves standing there staring at you (or the back of your head) and trying to will you to move aside. If that doesn't work, then they just knock past you as hard as they can and then make a noise that sounds something like "hmph" or "ooof". This is usually punctuated by a supposedly meaningful glare. Then they stomp off, triumphant that they have regained control of the situation.
By now you're either laughing and thinking this can't be true or you're nodding in recognition because you've been through it too. After eleven years of living in Stockholm, I don't get too annoyed anymore by it--well, that's a bit of a fib, else I wouldn't bewritingg this. Most of the time, I ignore it. Every now and again, I mentally toss a curse on the person who knocked me out of the way so they could get on the bus before me so that they could walk even slower than I was in their pursuit of an empty seat. To be honest, it's not even worth the hassle of getting too angry. It's become more of game these days.
Today, though, it bugged me. And I think the reason it bugged me was because it was an older couple, and they were ruthless in their quest to make sure that they boarded bus 53 before anyone else. Now, my parents raised me to respect my elders. I nearly always offer my seat on the subway or bus to older people if there are no other seats available. When not surrendering my seat to the elderly, I do so for pregnant women and people on crutches. As I was standing at the bus stop, I noticed two elderly couples and thought, when the bus comes, I'll let them get on ahead of me. It seemed like everyone else was thinking the same thing to because, when the bus pulled in, people were trying to move aside for the elderly couples. The only people who didn't move was a woman who was carrying a sleeping child, holding the hand of another small child and carrying a bag of groceries all at the same time. She didn't see the elderly couples--she was listening to what her daughter was saying. As the bus door opened, the first elderly couple eased around the young woman and said "ursäkta"--she moved aside and smiled an apology at them.
The other elderly couple, however, shoved the woman, nearly knocking her over. Her sleeping child almost fell, the bag of groceries fell out of the woman's left hand and her other daughter lost her balance and hit her knee on the sidewalk. I went over and helped the woman gather her groceries again while she tried to calm down her daughters. And what did the second elderly couple do? They sneered at her as they climbed onto the bus, shook their heads and made comments about how she ought to respect her elders. That really got my goat!
After I'd helped the woman, I let her and her daughters get on the bus ahead of me. And do you know what sight greeted me once I'd boarded? That same elderly couple dithering in the middle of the aisle about where to sit, thereby preventing everyone else from making much progress. A man in his thirties eased around them and took a seat. They grumbled and muttered how rude he was. Then, when the next passenger, a teenager with a skateboard, tried to go around them, the old woman lashed out at him, bellowing at him in Swedish, "You were not raised properly!"
Well, after a while, the cantankerous (second) older couple decided they would not sit after all. They stood in the midsection of the bus, where people with baby carriages or luggage usually stand. I wondered when they'd leave the bus and who they'd terrorize next. I should have known it would be me.
When I disembarked at the Sabbatsberg bus stop, they were behind me. I was carrying a heavy bag with supplies for the writers' retreat I'll be on all weekend. I knew they were behind me so I moved to the right so I wouldn't block their way. This didn't help. Just as I was stepping off the bus, the old man shoved me! I was quick enough that I didn't fall. As they pushed past me (completely unnecessary since there was plenty of room on the sidewalk) the old man directed a withering glare at me.
I couldn't help myself, I shouted after them: "You weren't raised properly, were you?!?!"
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