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Aug. 26th, 2011 12:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lenora_roseStuff Happening:
News bigger than me:
Not sure what or how to say it about Jack Layton that others haven't. As I said on someone else's journal, I used to think of him as mostly an obnoxious loudmouth, where it bothered me that we were in such close political agreement because he grated. Later, especially in the last election, I started to see the energy and charisma that made him an actual leader, not just a spokesman. He is a man worth respecting, and remembering, and all the accolades he's gained. Not, I hope, to the point of people abandoning his party and his political stances.
______________
Well wishes to those in the potential path of Irene.
______________
Shameless Other Person Promotion:
Not one, but two of UrsulaV's last posts have had me laughing to the point where I could scarcely breathe.
Well, that was.... interesting
(Warning. This is actually about a severely painful medical procedure. In sensitive bits. Yes, it's still funny, though I feel for her pain and hope she heals well.)
The Sequence of Events
_____________
She's also written another odd bit of fiction worth highlighting, and it's shortish. But not so much funny, though there are moments:
The Wolf and The Woodsman
Part II
______________
Hyperlocal news:
We did the first half of the prenatal class last weekend. Useful information, some of it, and some familiar from books or discussion, but it's different presented by someone who's had children and helped deliver children. The thing that struck me most was the video we were shown; which was of women, all in the middle of contractions, and what they were doing to get through it. The point was to give examples of relaxation techniques, and reactions (Although she made a point of reminding us that contractions do not go on for 20 minutes solid, as the video, which doesn't show the rests in between, does). But what struck me was, no matter if or how each women was clothed, unclothed, screaming, breathing, groaning, etc... in ways that would be hideously "undignified" without the mix of pain and pressure and the intensity of the moment, not a one of them, even the screamer, would have lost the least bit of my good opinion, had I known them before or after the event. Nothing.
Why this mattered to me, I suspect says something bad about me. But there is a part of me that worries about such appearances. I should know by now that people who really care don't exactly worry if your hair is a mess or you're lying on your back with your feet up in stirrups, when blood is coming out of you in hand-sized clots*, or cramps worse than anything are wracking your body**. So they won't care when you're going through something more intense and yet vastly happier in its conclusion.
It did also cement my decision to go with a doula. Mom's reaction seemed to be, with Colin's support (And possibly hers, depending on timing and opportunity to contact her), I shouldn't need one. Colin seemed to understand better, though he worried about the cost. But I do feel better with the thought of having BOTH professional support AND familial. I do think they would provide entirely different things, even if many of the supports would seem to be the same. I find that part hard to explain, as "support" seems kind of a nebulous concept. But consider: Colin has never been at a birth, and the last one I know my mother was at was, ahem, thirty-five years ago. So even her familiarity with hospitals and medical background doesn't quite have the same feeling of "I've been here before" experience with actual birthing. And the medical staff, well, they're likely to have a different set of concerns in the situation, even if they're empathetic and capable.
_________
So, I decided to try and get myself squashed on my bike the other day. Stupid, really: I was coming onto a bridge (Donald St, for Winnipeggers.) There's a sort of partial lane that shrinks to nothing as you ascend. Traffic was slow-to-stopped (Rush hour). I passed a wide flatbed truck with room to spare on the ascent, when I had space, and it seemed like there was time enough before traffic moved again for me to not just get past him (which I did), but to get out of his blind spot, which was rather larger as regards something as small as a bicycle. Which, obviously, I did NOT.
Traffic started moving again, and there he was next to me again. I pedalled harder, so as to stay by the cab of the truck, because suddenly I had at best a handful of inches on either side of the handlebars between large truck and concrete barrier. And if the flatbed caught up, I couldn't swear as to whether I or the space I'd be squeezed into would be larger. IN fact, for the last bit, I had so little space I was manoeuvring entirely by feet on the ground, not on the pedals.
But traffic stopped again, and I got clear, and into his sight, and safely next to the car ahead of him. And it wasn't until I'd been out of that squeeze a bit that I actually realised how close a call that was. It felt more annoying as it happened than it did alarming. No adrenaline, no panic. None of the classic things you supposedly get with near-accidents.
I'm pretty sure I could have gotten myself over the concrete barrier onto the sidewalk if I'd thought of trying it. I'm less sure that it would have occurred to me in the moment. I definitely didn't have room or time to look behind me and try to figure things out.
And yes, next time, I err on the side of caution, even more than I usually do. In all honesty, I mostly think I hadn't because I was on an ascent, which asks a bit more concentration in itself.
_____________
Not that you can tell from the last post and its thinkies, but writing has been going very well. Now, if only I knew exactly which scene to end this book with and where to start the next. (It's not that I don't know the next several major things to happen. It's that i don't know which one upon which to place the stronger harder beat of "Pause the story here". You'd think it's obvious... But structurally, there are all kinds of tricks, and stopping too soon can either be a cliffhanger or a "That's it? Where's the rest?", and ending late can either be a satisfying denouement or "Well, that came from the A.I. school of Hownot to end a story."
Fortunately, all that definitely falls into the category of "Stuff I can fix in the rewrite", not stuff I need to consider in the first draft. And the first draft is running fast and hard. Yay!
It is a minor drawback for a friend to whom I owe a critique, but I hope she'll understand if it's yet a bit later than planned. (I did at least give her a couple of verbal previews, of which she said the most important was "You're NOT wasting your time with this. You've got something here to work with, even if it's not there.")
__________
SOMEONE's suddenly increased kicking seems to be a hint to go to bed. So I will.
__________
* Not an exaggeration. No, really. Granted, the clots probably included a lot of stuff other than blood.
** Less blood by exponential degrees. But much more painful.
News bigger than me:
Not sure what or how to say it about Jack Layton that others haven't. As I said on someone else's journal, I used to think of him as mostly an obnoxious loudmouth, where it bothered me that we were in such close political agreement because he grated. Later, especially in the last election, I started to see the energy and charisma that made him an actual leader, not just a spokesman. He is a man worth respecting, and remembering, and all the accolades he's gained. Not, I hope, to the point of people abandoning his party and his political stances.
______________
Well wishes to those in the potential path of Irene.
______________
Shameless Other Person Promotion:
Not one, but two of UrsulaV's last posts have had me laughing to the point where I could scarcely breathe.
Well, that was.... interesting
(Warning. This is actually about a severely painful medical procedure. In sensitive bits. Yes, it's still funny, though I feel for her pain and hope she heals well.)
The Sequence of Events
_____________
She's also written another odd bit of fiction worth highlighting, and it's shortish. But not so much funny, though there are moments:
The Wolf and The Woodsman
Part II
______________
Hyperlocal news:
We did the first half of the prenatal class last weekend. Useful information, some of it, and some familiar from books or discussion, but it's different presented by someone who's had children and helped deliver children. The thing that struck me most was the video we were shown; which was of women, all in the middle of contractions, and what they were doing to get through it. The point was to give examples of relaxation techniques, and reactions (Although she made a point of reminding us that contractions do not go on for 20 minutes solid, as the video, which doesn't show the rests in between, does). But what struck me was, no matter if or how each women was clothed, unclothed, screaming, breathing, groaning, etc... in ways that would be hideously "undignified" without the mix of pain and pressure and the intensity of the moment, not a one of them, even the screamer, would have lost the least bit of my good opinion, had I known them before or after the event. Nothing.
Why this mattered to me, I suspect says something bad about me. But there is a part of me that worries about such appearances. I should know by now that people who really care don't exactly worry if your hair is a mess or you're lying on your back with your feet up in stirrups, when blood is coming out of you in hand-sized clots*, or cramps worse than anything are wracking your body**. So they won't care when you're going through something more intense and yet vastly happier in its conclusion.
It did also cement my decision to go with a doula. Mom's reaction seemed to be, with Colin's support (And possibly hers, depending on timing and opportunity to contact her), I shouldn't need one. Colin seemed to understand better, though he worried about the cost. But I do feel better with the thought of having BOTH professional support AND familial. I do think they would provide entirely different things, even if many of the supports would seem to be the same. I find that part hard to explain, as "support" seems kind of a nebulous concept. But consider: Colin has never been at a birth, and the last one I know my mother was at was, ahem, thirty-five years ago. So even her familiarity with hospitals and medical background doesn't quite have the same feeling of "I've been here before" experience with actual birthing. And the medical staff, well, they're likely to have a different set of concerns in the situation, even if they're empathetic and capable.
_________
So, I decided to try and get myself squashed on my bike the other day. Stupid, really: I was coming onto a bridge (Donald St, for Winnipeggers.) There's a sort of partial lane that shrinks to nothing as you ascend. Traffic was slow-to-stopped (Rush hour). I passed a wide flatbed truck with room to spare on the ascent, when I had space, and it seemed like there was time enough before traffic moved again for me to not just get past him (which I did), but to get out of his blind spot, which was rather larger as regards something as small as a bicycle. Which, obviously, I did NOT.
Traffic started moving again, and there he was next to me again. I pedalled harder, so as to stay by the cab of the truck, because suddenly I had at best a handful of inches on either side of the handlebars between large truck and concrete barrier. And if the flatbed caught up, I couldn't swear as to whether I or the space I'd be squeezed into would be larger. IN fact, for the last bit, I had so little space I was manoeuvring entirely by feet on the ground, not on the pedals.
But traffic stopped again, and I got clear, and into his sight, and safely next to the car ahead of him. And it wasn't until I'd been out of that squeeze a bit that I actually realised how close a call that was. It felt more annoying as it happened than it did alarming. No adrenaline, no panic. None of the classic things you supposedly get with near-accidents.
I'm pretty sure I could have gotten myself over the concrete barrier onto the sidewalk if I'd thought of trying it. I'm less sure that it would have occurred to me in the moment. I definitely didn't have room or time to look behind me and try to figure things out.
And yes, next time, I err on the side of caution, even more than I usually do. In all honesty, I mostly think I hadn't because I was on an ascent, which asks a bit more concentration in itself.
_____________
Not that you can tell from the last post and its thinkies, but writing has been going very well. Now, if only I knew exactly which scene to end this book with and where to start the next. (It's not that I don't know the next several major things to happen. It's that i don't know which one upon which to place the stronger harder beat of "Pause the story here". You'd think it's obvious... But structurally, there are all kinds of tricks, and stopping too soon can either be a cliffhanger or a "That's it? Where's the rest?", and ending late can either be a satisfying denouement or "Well, that came from the A.I. school of How
Fortunately, all that definitely falls into the category of "Stuff I can fix in the rewrite", not stuff I need to consider in the first draft. And the first draft is running fast and hard. Yay!
It is a minor drawback for a friend to whom I owe a critique, but I hope she'll understand if it's yet a bit later than planned. (I did at least give her a couple of verbal previews, of which she said the most important was "You're NOT wasting your time with this. You've got something here to work with, even if it's not there.")
__________
SOMEONE's suddenly increased kicking seems to be a hint to go to bed. So I will.
__________
* Not an exaggeration. No, really. Granted, the clots probably included a lot of stuff other than blood.
** Less blood by exponential degrees. But much more painful.
