Hannah's Scribblings

Something I wrote a month ago but forgot to publish.

I am a Trekkie by association. The rest of my family is big on Star Trek, and so I am as well. Mom loves Voyager, Dad likes Q and the battles (he got into big trouble for watching Star Trek the night that MA was born instead of attending to his wife) and MA goes for the science, ship designs and the science. I like the way the Star Trek franchise  addresses social issues and character interaction are pretty great too.

I am also a J.J. Abrams fan by association. (Mom can get really defensive over her Alias.) I like how character-driven Abrams’ stories are.

So, when the news came out that J.J. Abrams was going to direct the next Star Trek, I was thrilled.  

Now, on to the movie: I liked it. I really liked it. I liked well enough to see it two times in three days and still want to see it again. Yes, it was different than the other Star Treks and more action-driven, but it was fresh, good in and of itself and still retained that Star Trek flavor.

I have to admit, the Original Series is probably my least favorite…and it isn’t because I don’t like the characters, or that I can’t see past the 60’s special effects. It’s just that I’m not too fond of William Shatner’s Kirk (no offense to Mr. Shatner, the writers or people who do like him). He always struck me as a melodramatic womanizer.

Chris Pine did a fantastic job as the new Kirk. He’s still somewhat of a womanizer, very much of a rascal…but it’s rather hard to be melodramatic when everybody is lining up to beat your face in.

If you haven’t gone to see it yet, it’s worth the money. I’m still want to go see it again…before it comes out on DVD.

I also can’t wait for the sequel!

It was rather funny. At least, that was what my very vocal wit was saying; the rest of me wasn’t so sure. Every other occupant of the room, if put to the question, would probably have agreed with my afore-said wit. Then again, they weren’t the one who was stuck in the cycle of getting up, crossing the house, unearthing a new notebook, sitting back down, and deciding that one wouldn’t do either.

Creative/story writing is difficult for me to do on a computer. I get distracted (particularly by the internet button) and also the smell and feel of paper keeps my imagination churning in a way a screen and keyboard can’t. Hand writing does tend to scatter more easily than files on a computer, though, so I have come up with a system of writing: Sticky notes are for quick scribbles; things that pop in my head without warning and must be written down before they are forgotten. Spiral bound or plain covered notebooks are for scraps of stories: generally chapter long segments that haven’t found their place in a plot…yet…or ever. And Paperblanks and journals with nice covers, those are saved for stories I’m serious about.

So, back to my notebooks woes of yesterday afternoon: I had a scrap of a story. Like the good, organized gal I am, I fetched my Scraps O’ Stories Notebook and sat down. A blank page was found and I got settled down to aquire a hand-cramp…when I stopped. I realized that this was a scrap I wanted to keep track of and continue; and admittedly, that is somewhat difficult in Scraps O’ Stories. Not a problem. I’d get a blank notebook. Problem: I’m out of those. Also not a problem–I got up from the couch and got out a notebook that had been used for a story I haven’t worked on in a while. I was back on the couch before I realized that a) I liked the story in this notebook, b) I’d already written about 30 pages and c) I didn’t really want to copy all those 30 pages into a new notebook just so I could have a free notebook. So I put it back and dug out another. This one was empty, all except for the title page. This one would work. But that title page was just so cute and besides, it matched the cover so well…

This process was repeated twice more. By the time I decided to put this in Scraps O’ Stories and just deal with it, not only had the writing mood passed me by, it was time to start the kitchen.

I need a new notebook. No, I need several  new notebooks. A stock pile would be ideal.

By the way, I’m not really very organized.

Once again, June 17 has come and once again it has found me one year older…nineteen, this time around. I thought I would mark the day by compiling lists of 19 things about me.

Highlights of each year. Obviously, 1 is the year following my birth, not my first birthday. Hopefully, everything is in the right year!

1. Forgot to check off “Learn how to breathe” on my pre-birth check list; had to have a crash-course in the ICU.
2. Learned to be Little Red Riding Hood, Zorro’s assistent. Fell in love with the Ocean and all other forms of water.
3. Flew on an airplane for the first–and trust me, not the last–time. Moved to Germany.
4. Heaved a doll bed up and over my head…aimed at my long-suffering Dad. 
5. Moved to Turkey and had a blast. Had my first memory: my 4th birthday party.
6. Decided that whatever Mom might say, I was too quite old enough to wear “Ipistick”. It’s a real pity that the “ipistick” was a vomit-green permanent marker.
7. Moved back to the States, Georgia to be precise. Went to visit Nana and Papa; talked all the way from Macon, Georgia to Jeffersonville, Indiana. If you don’t believe me, just ask Papa. I’m certain his ears remember it.
8. Moved on to this here hobby farm; got Max, the beloved GSD that helped Mom and Dad raise MA and I. Oh, this is also the year that a tree “threw me out!” and I buckle-broke my wrist. I guess the tree heard Mom when she told me not to climb it.
9. Went to my first VBS and got Mono; thereupon deciding that VBS was dangerous to my health and vowed never to go back. GJ, my cousin was born.
10. Started writing and performing “plays” with the aid of MA and puppets. Also started writing letters to my older cousin Becky.
11. Got Sarah and Abraham, the first of my many rabbits. Abraham certainly lived up to his name! Started taking violin lessons from a world class teacher…and neglected to inform anybody that I found it easier to mimic my teacher’s hand movements than to learn to read music.
12. Quit Tae Kwon Do; took up swimming and got Arwen, my horse.Nana and Papa moved to Florida.
13. Was thoroughly engrossed in Arwen and sewing.
14. Sold Arwen. Got Peace and Storm, my part Saanan, part Alpine, part headache goats. Lost Storm.
15. Finally agreed to learn how to ride a bike. Nearly killed Mom learning, but hey, what can you expect when you put a klutz on a two wheeled contraption that requires balance and aim?
16. Flew through history and literature. Floundered through algebra. Spilled hot oil all over my foot the night AG, was born. (My cousin and GJ’s brother). Becky died.
17. Shared my 16th birthday with MA’s Highschool Graduation. Lost Max and Peace on the same day.
18. Planned my Graduation and graduated three days before my 18th birthday.
19. Found and joined a local church, started this blog, got two part-time (read once a week) jobs, got my learners permit, and I started writing in earnest.

19 Trivia Facts About Yours Truly

1. I never really learned to tell left from right. I never had to; having a scar below my right pointer finger which I acquired after falling down a hill…which Mom told me not to climb.
2. After the “Ipistick” incident, Cemile, our Turkish maid, declared: “She cute little girl; she bad little girl!”
3. Once I was running through the house, collided with Max and somehow ended up with a chair leg between my little toe and the next toe on my left foot. Between said toes was an honest-to-goodness, no kidding hole in my foot. First time I’ve ever heard a doctor say “Ew!!”. I still managed to do about or over 30 laps at my swim meet. And yes, Mom told me not to run through the house.
4. My parents have often apologized for naming me something that means “Grace”.
5. I really, really don’t like it when people leave the final H off my name. It’s Hannah, not Hanna.
6. I have the same middle name as my mother, grandmother (Nana) and great-grandmother.
7. Blue is my favorite color.
8. I do not like peanut butter AT ALL!!
9. I suck at math and spelling.
10. I love economics.
11. I used to call little doughnuts “do-do”s, and “do-do”s they have been ever since.
12. Talking is an art form with me and I mastered it at three.
13. I am prone to forgetfulness.
14. I’m a sucker for “Happy Ever Afters”.
15. When we first moved up to Indiana, I met a girl who was, oh, maybe 14. She took charge of us youngsters and was an absolute blast to be around. I decided that I was going to be just like that when I “grew up”. That is still something that is very important to me.
16. I, um, have expensive taste in clothes and decorations. Blame the wee little drop of French in me.
17. My absolute favorite moment of television is the last scene of Memoria, in Smallville’s 3rd season.
18. I am allergic to dairy and this manifests itself in really bad acne.
19. I sometimes have dreams where I revisit an older dream…only when I wake up, I realise that there was no first dream.

Well, Happy Birthday to me! I promise, I really am 19.

Mom, who does rigorous exercises every morning, invited me to do yoga with her yesterday morning. After a little consideration, I agreed.

So there we were, half-way through the routine in a Downward Facing Dog. The women on the video was saying cheerfully:  ”Feel the stretch through the back of your thighs.”

To which I replied: “No kidding, lady.”  Mom’s Downward Facing Dog began to wobble as her face turned a bright red.

In the final minutes of the workout, we were standing in some sort of pose that requires a foot on each end of the mat, when I notice my balance is going. Right in the middle of the video lady talking about something (breath, I think) in her placid way, I gave voice to a high-pitched shriek and toppled over.

Poor Mom. Yoga is never calm and peaceful when I’m around.

…because that flip-floping motion for which they are named will catapult the water straight up and you will have to change clothes.

I am very pleased to announce that I have finished a short story entitled The Great Aunts Three and the Fairy Ida. It was written as an assignment on my writers’ group and I have to say that I’m really pleased with the way it turned out.

The assignment was to write as short story at least a 1,000 words long based on these pictures:

It grew to eleven and a half pages and is in some need of a little polishing up and feedback. If anybody would like to review it, let me know and I’d be happy to e-mail you a copy.

Genre: Definitely comedy.

In case you couldn’t tell, I’m really kind of excited about finishing my first more-than-two-pages-story.

Part 1 of probably many other posts on the same subject. 

As you might recall, I said before that I was doing a complete overhauling and redoing of my bedroom. Well, the actual doing of said undertaking is mostly what has kept my from the blogosphere.

I really should have taken a “before” picture, but alas, such things only occur to me after it is to late to carry them out; much like Sir Percy Blakeney’s carriage wit (carriage wit being: “The clever remark one thinks of when one has left the party and is driving home.”). So, I shall just have to paint one with my words.

My room is 12 feet, 5 inches by 11 feet, 8 inches. It has an 8 foot by 32 inch closet on one wall and a 5 foot by 5 1/2 foot double window on another. Now, into this space was crammed:

1. A double size bed
2. An old steamer trunk which served for a Hope Chest
3. A chest of drawers
4. A bookshelf
5. A 1909 Singer Sewing Machine, bought with my Graduation money.
6. A small bench that also housed–in theory–my shoes, purse and other bags
7. A Toy chest crammed full of my old toys
8. A doll wardrobe which served for a nightstand
9. A small wooden trunk, a wicker bin, several baskets and plastic bags full of sewing supplies, material (scrap or otherwise) and yarn balls
10. A quilt stand
11. A large army of wooden boxes (a particular weakness of mine) filled with what I call nick-knacks and others “crip-crap”
12. An entire closet of odds and ends of various sizes, shapes and colors
13. Papers, notebooks, pens, sticky notes, and other writing supplies which defied housing
14. Stray beads from that phase of my childhood

Yes, I’m a hopeless, sentimental pack rat. Clearly, something had to give, and as my parents had requested that it not be the walls, I set to work.

The first thing I did was to gather those possessions of mine which make the floor their home and stacked them in a corner. Then my Hope Chest was opened and it’s contents sorted through. I made a Goodwill pile of everything I didn’t think I’d honestly use. Everything I decided to keep was neatly placed back in the chest. Then I repeated the procedure thrice more for good measure and brutal honesty.  The Hope Chest, previously overflowing, now stood two thirds empty. I exchanged the huge trunk (which was literally falling apart at the edges) for a smaller wooden chest which Mom was only too happy to get out of the Living room and a Rubbermaid tote which was half filled with completed afghans and quilts.

Into this Rubbermaid tote I began stuffing quilt batting, quilts that are still in the process of being pieced together, half a bolt of muslin and winter blankets from the closet. It was a tight fit, and I had to dance… er, jump…on the lid, but where there’s a will, there’s a way and I had lots of will.

The closet, chest of drawers, bench, floor residents and the boxes were next and they took the better part of two weeks of sorting and re-sorting. Eventually, the Goodwill pile included 10 large bags of clothing, shoes (which, despite my aversion to foot wear, I seem to attract), and just general stuff. Hardest of all was parting with two of my wooden boxes. However, both were removed from the Goodwill stack and given a new home by Mom. The chest of drawers actually shut. The only nick-knacks I kept were those that fit neatly inside the remaining boxes. Most of the boxes in turn are being stored in a cardboard box. My closet odds and ends are reduced to those that fit in a Rubbermaid tote and the wicker bin that used to hold sewing stuff. My scrap material stash was divided between the small wooden trunk and the garbage can. Yarn was collected from various baskets and bags to be consolidated into, of all things, a freezer bag. 

I have to confess that after such a thorough disection of every other part of my room, I didn’t even touch my writing supplies. After all, a good writer never throws away anything, whether or not it stays in it’s assigned place of storage.

Oh, and I am pleased to report that I have swept up every last bead I could find. Mom used to hate those things and now I’m beginning to see why.