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posted by [personal profile] miep at 07:51pm on 22/04/2017
  The new TOS look pretty wonky, folks. I've missed you all. If you would like to find me, you can look me up on Dreamwidth, where I'll be miep, of course.

Sending so much love. I miss what this was.
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 07:39pm on 22/04/2017
So, I hear tell that LJ is no longer a safe space, so I'm migrating all that content over here. I have a low user number, a short, lovely username, and really miss the community on LJ, circa 2007...

so, hello, dreamwidthers! What's new?
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 09:27pm on 06/11/2015
sigh.  There's this writer, author person, whose work I really enjoyed reading. Some of it spoke to me very deeply, and I wanted to be friends with this person, as sort-of-friends were friends with the writer.  I thought, cool.  We have mutual friends and interests.  This will be neat!

Nope. Got some blank looks and "okay, I'm talking to my real friend now, so nice talking with you, but we're done here," attitude.  Whatever, still a great writer, I though, still have mutual interests, we'll see one another now and then at cons, and it's cool.

At the last con I attended, which was also the last place I saw my mom alive, this writer totally shut me down in a panel, when I made an on-topic comment, basically seeking to put me in my place and re-establish writer's self as the one who knows things about the topic.

I attended no more panels at that con.  I've attended no other cons since then -- not because of writer, but bc reasons.

but whenever writer reappears, and says something cool, or does something nifty, for a moment I have that, "Hey, neat! Writer did a thing!" feeling, and then the thought comes back, "yup, and writer basically told you you are stupid and should shut up."

this upsets me.  I don't write people off much, I cut people a lot of slack, but I still feel so damned attacked, and in front of other people, and in front of writers whose work I also really liked, and WHOSE POINTS I WAS ACTUALLY ADDRESSING.

All this predicated by seeing a post from writer in my feed.  off to change that now.
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 10:08pm on 04/11/2014
It's colder in Scotland than in England, or at least, it was when we took the train north together. I was spending my junior year of college at Oxford, and my mother flew out to visit me after Christmas. It was a visit I look back on and wonder at -- it was that year that literally changed my life, the best year of college, the year of self-discovery and adventure, and my mom took the long plane trip over the ocean to visit me during the ten months I was away. My grandmother had left her some money, and she was determined to enjoy that trip to the fullest. I met her at Paddington Station, full of confidence in my understanding of the UK after three months of living in the terrace house in Marlborough Road.

The first night, we stayed in a student-rate hotel in Belgravia or something like that, and I don't think either of us slept a wink. We saw Cirque du Soleil in the Albert Hall. She got to hear me sing in the chorus for Mozart's Requiem at St. Martin in the Fields. We toured the Tower.

A dear friend was in England, visiting family, and had extra days left on her BritRail pass. When she headed home, she gave us the pass. What does one do with free time, some inherited cash, and free rail travel? One goes to Scotland, to Glasgow.

It was my mother's second trip to Scotland, my first. We arrived at night, but it could have been late afternoon. It's dark in January in Scotland. We found a hotel, settled in for the night, and planned our adventure. We had a few days before I had to be back for the start of term, when she'd meet my friends and choir mates and drink with us in the college bar and endear herself to everyone.

I can see our visit in flashes -- the extravagant meal in a beautiful restaurant, rose pouchong tea surrounded by Charles Rennie Mackintosh design, the dark stone of the cathedral -- but what came back to me full force this weekend as I listened to the Battlefield Band on Prairie Home Companion, was that we attended a concert with bagpipes and fiddles and a full orchestra. I think it was Phil Cunningham's Highlands and Islands Suite, maybe? I don't know for sure. All I know is that the moment when the band fell away and the pipes took over, that characteristic change of rhythm from skipping to skirling, sounding through my car's stereo on Saturday made me break down in sobs, as January, 1997, slammed back into my mind. Funny, though, that it was that memory, and not the dozens of other times we listened to the pipes together. Mom loved bagpipes; we shared that love. I was glad to find a piper for her funeral last spring. How could we send her onto the Low Road, without the sound of mourning and battle and victory and longing that the pipes have?

My mother's birthday is this Saturday. My stepdad is hosting a dinner in her honor, and some of us who loved her will gather and eat and drink and laugh and cry. She was loved by, and loved, so many -- there were not enough chairs in the funeral chapel for everyone who came to her funeral -- and I wish I could call her and ask about that concert. Instead, I guess I'll buy a recording of the Highlands and Islands Suite, and let the music carry me back again to the darkness of midwinter Glasgow, and to the brilliant light and warmth of my mother's love.
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 07:29am on 02/11/2014
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 07:16am on 02/11/2014
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 08:54am on 28/09/2014
What is it like to operate wtihout the smartphone?   I remember being so scornful, three years ago.  I didn't need it, didn't want it.  But then, my father offered to get us both iPhones when our free phone came around on the celphone plan.

Mine is on all the time, folks.  I was beginning to get pain in my right shoulder, from looking at it so much.  Facebook, mostly, but also reading books and articles and websites.  I have become used to having all the information at my fingertips, all the time.  Weather? Definitions of odd words? Directions to the school? Done. Done. Done.  No need to wonder, figure out, observe, speculate.  Even my son expects me to ask Siri or just look it up, for everything.  What was that teaching him about wonder? It's an amazing tool, a library and tricorder in my pocket.  But something makes me feel crazy.  And there is the fact that I need to check all the time.  All. The.  Time.

Then I read this post by Chandelle. And although I'd read other interesting posts by other writers over the last couple of years, like this one, Chandelle's post really hit me.  Perhaps it was her acknowledgment that she planned to keep using her phone, her desire for a middle way.

I tend toward perfectionism and procrastination.  If I can't do it perfectly right away, I have a hard time sticking with it.  I know this about myself.  It's not a point of pride; it's a challenge.  And I am working on finding a middle way that works for me.  So I'm taking some time away from facebook each day, checking in once or twice, and trying to let it go the rest of the day.

Yesterday, I forgot my phone at home when A and I set out to visit M at the coffee shop and then to go to the Wildflower Garden and park.  At first, I thought, ugh! I'll have to go back!  But then, I decided to go on.  It was fine!  At the wildflower garden, I didn't take pictures.  At the park, I chatted with the man sitting on the bench near me and watched A playing.  I drove us home when we were ready to go.  There were no missed calls or texts. I hadn't really missed anything.

I've also been letting A watch a few hours or tv on the weekends.  This has been okay, mostly, except he won't stop asking for another movie. I'm trying to draw the line clearly, but sometimes, I jsut don't have enough conviction to say no again and again and again.  I choose half an hour of peace.  There is a little guilt, but not much.  We watched three episodes of Wild Kratts yesterday, an new show for us, and A had a lot of processing to do -- he drew a picture of the characters, and wanted to pretend to be them.  It's nice to have a break from Ninjas.  So very nice. The Wild Kratts are about protecting and loving the natural world, not about hitting and kicking and sarcasm.  So tired of hearing an adolescent voice in my five-year-old's mouth.

Finding our own way.  It's good.
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 01:01pm on 24/09/2014
I don't even remember posting here. You know? and I think I've missed out on a lot.

There used to be this thing called "real life" where I had friends who called on the phone, and wrote letters, and sent long emails.

And there was LJ, where I found community sometimes, and people awake in the middle of the night. Where I met amazing folks like [livejournal.com profile] annablume and [livejournal.com profile] sequoianne and [livejournal.com profile] csecooney and [livejournal.com profile] sdn and [livejournal.com profile] wiredferret and [livejournal.com profile] ottermoo and [livejournal.com profile] bellaunbound and so many, many others. Where I kept in touch with friends from college and from my still-kicking mailing list...

And then facebook happened, and slowly, real life and online life merged into one soup, and I can't find myself in either any more.

Facebook has been useful to me in many ways, but I find myself at even more of a loss for words than ever before. I have missed the long-form entries, the detail, the secrets. And I so miss finding letters in my mailbox, and talking on the phone for hours, not that I can even make a phone call without A wanting to talk and needing things.

Can you believe he's 5, and in kindergarten? IMG_3079

So, where does all this lead us? I've got deep questions about life and faith and work, and this is where they most likely should go.  I tried starting a professional blog, but honestly, I don't like it.  I've written some okay things for it, but I hate it being public, and it's just too stilted...

Want to bring LJ back?  Maybe we can stage some kind of revolution?
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posted by [personal profile] miep at 09:40am on 29/04/2014 under

So, you might not know that my mom died suddenly Saturday morning. We don't know why or how. She was alive, and then she wasn't. Services are tomorrow. I am not yet fully in touch with reality.

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posted by [personal profile] miep at 09:17pm on 08/11/2013 under
go read up on me. and my cold. http://sarareneelogan.weebly.com/