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No New Posts…

Hey guys, I know I’ve been gone for a while.  It definitely defeats the purpose of having a blog if I’m not going to post, but I just haven’t been able to lately.

I’m feeling much better, but I do feel that I owe you all an explanation, especially since I can’t promise not to fall off the face of the earth again any time soon. Continue reading → No New Posts…

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley – Frankenstein | Bauman Rare Books

Sorry I’ve been gone so long everyone.  I’ve had a case of the “feel bads” all week.  Sometimes, when I’m feeling bad I visit my favorite rare book site and drool over the rare editions I could never have.  It sounds torturous, but it does help take my mind off my lurching stomach.  I’m really not sure why…  if I could actually afford any of the books I want, I’d never be able to touch a single one for fear of damaging it and having to sentence myself to death for the crime of high literary treason.

Anyway…  I came across this amazing copy of Frankenstein on Bauman Rare Books today and thought I’d share.  One day, I will have a spare $30,000 and this will be mine!!!  (Yeah, we all know that’s not gonna happen, but take it easy on me, I haven’t been able to keep coffee in my system for 3 days!)

 

Frankenstein rare book for sale. This by Mary Wollstonecraft SHELLEY is available at Bauman Rare Books.

Source: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley – Frankenstein | Bauman Rare Books

When a Runner Can’t Run

I’m a runner.  

Or, I was a runner.

Sometimes, I forget I’m not a runner anymore.  And when it hits me that I can no longer call myself a runner, a wave of depression comes over me that has, on occasion, actually knocked me down.  Thankfully, it’s a short lived fit of self-pity (usually) and is often shoved aside quickly by a quick trip up or down some stairs.

The pain in my knee is a pretty good reminder that, once the pain is gone, I will be a runner again.  (Sometimes, it sends me into a downward spiral where I’m convinced I’ll never even be able to walk up and down the stairs again, but that’s not really important right now.)

I had no idea how much I associated being a runner with who I am until I couldn’t run.  There was only one other time in my life that I had such an identity crisis…

During the first date I was on with my husband, he interrupted me to exclaim (with a rather terrified look on his face), “Oh, God!  You’re a Christian!”  He actually backed away from me when he said it, as if I might somehow infect him with my Christian filth.  We had already been surprised by his being 7 years younger than me… and he had already told me that he hated kids.  To which, I responded that I had two. He didn’t so much as flinch.  (Not even when I went out of my way to try to make him. hehehe)  But when something escaped from my lips that made him realize I was a Christian, he looked a little disgusted.

Now, you might think that I would be upset about his reaction…  I wasn’t.

I was more upset that he wasn’t able to tell before our date, before I confirmed his accusation, before whatever the words were that had escaped my lips at that moment, what my beliefs were.

All I could think was, “I’m a Christian.  I’m supposed to be shining Christ’s light in this world.  Every action and reaction I have is supposed to exude love.”  Obviously, if he was that shocked by my being a Christian, then I wasn’t shining a light in the world.  He had seen me many times before our first date.  We had even gone to lunch a couple of times before that night.  If I was bringing light to the dark, it would have been obvious at this point…  but it wasn’t.

And I had to really search myself.  I had to redefine my role in this world.  I questioned whether I really was a Christian.  Did I have any business calling myself that if it was THAT big of a shock for someone to find out?

That’s pretty much how I feel now when I let the words escape my lips…  “I’m a runner.”

Writer’s write.  If I wasn’t writing, I couldn’t call myself a writer.

Runner’s run.  If I haven’t ran in months can I really call myself a runner?

It’s a pretty simple concept.  Let the identity crisis begin…

About a year ago, I fell during a race.  I sprained my shoulder and had a little pain in my knee.  I figured the knee was just scraped and once the scabs went away, it’d be fine.  That wasn’t the case.  The doctor said I’d probably torn my meniscus.  Without an MRI they couldn’t tell for sure.  I needed to have an x-ray, which they said wouldn’t be able to tell them anything really if it was a tear, but the insurance won’t pay for the MRI without an x-ray first.

I’m stubborn.

The knee pain wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t run on it, so I decided not to worry about it.  I iced it after every run and, except for the post-run swelling, it was fine.

In January, my husband and I ran a half-marathon in Arizona for our anniversary.  After the race, a pain in my stomach that I had been experiencing on and off for a few months became nearly unbearable.  It grew worse as the months wore on.  I couldn’t run.  Some days, I could barely walk. The pain eventually led to me having surgery in May.

That race was my last long run.

Once healed from my surgery, I was excited to get back out on the road.  But it wasn’t quite the homecoming I had expected.

Over the months of inactivity, my knee had gotten weaker.  It’s no longer able to absorb the shock of running.  Stairs cause me to grit my teeth.

Yes, I should probably go have the stupid x-ray.

But I’d rather build the strength back up in my knee. I don’t want to end up out for another year because I had to have another surgery (which is what the doc is pretty sure I’ll need).

The problem?

I’m a runner.

I’m a runner who cannot run.

Building myself back up to where I was is going to take time.  And a lot of patience and determination…  and I have to get over the fact that I cannot run.  Before I can run, I’m going to have to walk.

To me, running is fun.  The world just looks and feels different when I’m running.  The time passes almost too quickly.

But walking???  Walking is boring.  Time passes way too slowly.  Everything looks and feels exactly the same as if I was sitting on my front porch.

Basically, the problem is that I cannot get myself motivated to walk.  I’ve tried listening to a book while I walk on the treadmill (I hate treadmills).  I’ve tried listening to music, but it just doesn’t help.

Today, with the help of a new friend, I think I’m finally ready to say “I’m a walker.”

I woke up this morning and had no desire to go for a walk.  I gritted my teeth and grimaced at the crackling and pain as I walked up the stairs.  I was NOT in the mood for a slow, boring, walk up and down the hills I know I need to walk to get my knee stronger.

But I had someone waiting for me.  I couldn’t cancel, I was the one who asked her to go with me.  And so, I went.

And I had a great time!

She didn’t mind that I had to take it easy as we made our way not just up, but down the hills (down is a killer for me right now).  We talked and laughed, and the time just flew by…  I went much farther than what I thought I would be able to!

Without her, I honestly wouldn’t have made it there today.  I wouldn’t feel as accomplished as I do now… I’d be sitting here sulking in the fact that I can’t run, instead of joyously proclaiming that I walked today!

And eventually, I WILL run again!

My Random Thoughts on the Mystery of Unedited Books and Questions about Self-Publishing

As you probably know by now, I’m preparing for NaNoWriMo next month.  Since I’m not used to this whole “prep” thing, I’m turning to even more books to help me out.

(Note to Planners:  planning out a novel beforehand sucks.  Simply having a general blurb and then sitting down to write it all out is much more fun.  I now have an even deeper respect for those who actually do this prepping thing as a general rule and not just once a year.  Any suggestions from you are greatly appreciated!)  

In one of my recent posts I asked about the current editing standards.  Some others agreed that self-published books seem to be better edited in recent years than the books the big publishing houses are putting out.

I know this has been driving you all crazy too…  Well, I have found the explanation, my friends!

(It wasn’t bothering you at all?  Huh.  I guess I’ll keep typing anyway.)

Continue reading → My Random Thoughts on the Mystery of Unedited Books and Questions about Self-Publishing

Dear Benedict Cumberbatch

This So You Don’t Know Me But… brought to you by Lane Brown. You can visit him at his blog.

Dear Honeycutt Candycrush,

I’m a huge fan. I think you’re a fabulous Sherlock Holmes. You portrayed one of my heroes, Alan Turing, stupendously. And frankly, everything I know about you as a human being indicates that you’re a fun, easygoing and genuinely nice human being, which is not something you can always say about celebrities.

As a result, I feel slightly guilty about the name game. You know, the one where I say Crackerjack Applesauce and people immediately know I mean Bandicoot Cucumber. Or, maybe guilty isn’t totally accurate. It’s more that I spend an odd amount of time wondering how you feel about the whole thing. You do seem to have a good sense of humor about such things, and my best efforts haven’t turned up any examples of you saying anything against it. Then again, I don’t pay much attention to celebrity stuff, so maybe you said it long ago and I just couldn’t find it. My searches were all pretty flooded with yet more examples of the name game.

Overall, I feel like it’s safe to assume you don’t take any offense. It’s pretty clear that nobody is doing this to say “Dragnet Butterscotch has such a weird, dumb name. We will mock it.” Everybody who does this likes you as much as I do. It’s really just mocking ourselves and, for the language geeks, playing with an odd phenomenon (have you seen any of the articles on how this phenomenon works? Or how to create a Banana Curious name generator? They’re fascinating). We love your name. We love you.

But I just thought I’d go on record as saying that if I ever hear that you don’t like the name game, that you don’t think it’s funny and you can’t wait for it to stop, I will stop. No matter how much I’ll miss it, nevermore will Benefit Handyman or Buttery Cardigan or Backstroke Penguin pass my lips.

Sincerely,

P.S. That’s a brown lane. Because my name is Lane Brown. I dunno, it was funny in my head.