Technology and I don’t get along all that well. We tolerate each other in order to get the job done, but occasionally technology decides to break the truce and play merry hob with everything.

Take my computer, for instance – we bought it in 2004 and, since then, just about everything inside it has been replaced. Usually due to catastrophic failure. The last catastrophe was in 2009 when, after listening to the faulty advice of HP’s service tech, I plugged my brand-new printer into the wall socket instead of a surge-protector. Less than two weeks later, we got hit by a massive thunderstorm and a bolt of lightning went through the printer and fried my motherboard.

The only thing that hasn’t been replaced is the harddrive. Not for lack of trying, though. After the motherboard issue, I thought it might be a good idea to replace the harddrive which, at that time, was almost six years old. So, I talked to a friend who is a tech-God (This is the same friend who, when I was looking for a laptop, suggested I buy a Macbook. A Macbook I can’t even use very much because it gives me intense headaches. At least my husband likes it.) and he suggested I order a new one through New Egg and do it myself since “harddrives are so easy to replace. They’re pretty much just install and play.”

Of all the jinxing things to say. I bought the harddrive he suggested (and was sent a much bigger one instead for the same price) and asked him to install it for me since I know how technology and I interact. He agreed, but when the time came, he slapped himself upside the head and said, “I forgot that these things don’t come pre-installed with Windows. Do you have the install disks that came with the computer?” *blink blink* You want me to find install disks from six years ago? Did it even come with install disks?

I searched and searched for anything that might resemble an install disk without any luck. Finally, one of my husband’s employees offered up his Windows disks. Only they were upgrade disks instead of install. *sigh*

This was around the time that Windows 7 was released , but I really didn’t want to spend another $100+ just to buy Windows 7. After checking Amazon, I found somebody selling a brand new Windows 7 install disk for $75. So, I ordered it and waited for it to arrive. And waited. And waited. And waited. Two weeks later, I filed a complaint with Amazon and got my money back. Still no disks.

And then life got in the way. Financial issues, family issues, my tech-God moved out to San Jose to take a job with Malwarebytes, we decided to buy a house. One thing after another conspired against us.

As we were packing for the move to our new house, I found the install disks from when we bought the computer. Of course that’s when I’d find it, when we could least afford to mess around with it. To the back of the line it went once again.

Once we were finally somewhat settled in the house and we weren’t scrambling to get things done, a friend who works in corporate IT offered to install the harddrive for me. I’m going to be honest here, I have no idea what the heck she did to my harddrive. I know she ghosted everything over to the new harddrive and there was an issue finding the BIOS. Other than that, all I know is that she didn’t get the harddrive to work.

That was last summer. After her unsuccessful attempts, I was simply too disgusted by the whole process to care any longer. I kept debating whether I should pay an actual computer person to install it, but always decided against it because I really didn’t want to shell out possibly hundreds of dollars for something that was supposed to be “so easy”.

Right after Christmas, I met up with a very good friend who is taking IT classes at one of the local colleges. She offered to take a look at my computer and try to figure out what was wrong with it.

After two visits, both of them several hours each and highly aggravating, she’s almost certain that she’s finally found the problem: the motherboard wasn’t set up to run a SATA harddrive since my current harddrive is an IDE. Don’t ask me what either of those acronyms stand for or what it means because I really don’t know. She was supposed to come over on Wednesday to work her magic and get it running. Alas… fate had other ideas. Due to a personal emergency, she wasn’t able to get over here and now I’m not sure when it’s going to be done.

There are some days when I dream of a life alone in the woods without any sort of technology at all. Then I slap myself in the head and remind myself that for all of the cost and aggravation my computer has cost me, it has also brought me many more wonderful things.

Ana

I was sitting in my office last Saturday morning, drinking coffee, reading a magazine, and reflecting on the rather abrupt changes that are probably going to take place in my life over the next few months when I came across an article. It’s in the March 2012 edition of WholeLiving and while the magazine can be found online, this particular article requires you pick up the magazine at the store.

However, I’ll share a snippet from it. The one that made me want to write this entry. In it, Andrew Leonard is talking about his iPhone and how much he loves it. Some might scoff, but I think it’s beautiful.

Maybe those of us who were science fiction fans were better prepared than everyone else for the classic Internet-induced epiphany,” he writes. “The realization, not long after we logged on for the first time, that the natural purpose and evolution of this network of networks was to link us to the full sum of human knowledge, to connect us to everything. In that sense, the smartphone is the physical embodiment of all that civilization has accomplished. Its manifestation can be as silly as a game of Fruit Ninja or as profound as an iBooks download of the Bhagavad Gita.”

I love this.

This is the Internet Age, the Digital Revolution. I’ve seen the Internet work as a concerted whole to call out liars, stop legislation, raise money for cancer patients and disaster victims. We are many, we are one, and we’re finally starting to realize that when we put our heads together and raise our voices we can effect change on a global scale.

I live in a world where I can video chat with my nieces and nephews who live four hours away from me or a friend who lives across the country who I’ve never met in person. The phone I carry in my pocket has probably 100 times more processing power than my first computer.

My parents had a cell phone back in the 90s. *laughs* One of those you had to plug into the car charger to get it to work. It came in a carrying case the size of a lunchbox. I got my first cell phone back in 2001, shortly after I met my husband on the Internet. Back then we were just friends, but it became apparent to me that owning a cell phone was financially a good decision unless I wanted to pay a lot for long distance!

A few years ago I snagged a Nook as soon as I could. I love it. I read from it. I think it’s like that awesome planet on Dr. Who in the episode “Silence in the Library” where every book that’s ever been written is stored. Endless possibility.

I don’t see the war between digital and print that so many people seem to fear or champion. My Nook sits beside my paper books – no better, no worse. Just different.

I have lived more than half my life online and almost my entire with the wonderful technology of computers. My nieces and nephews are already – at the ages of 4 & 6 – more technologically competent than pretty much everyone in the family. They will never deal with rewinding cassette or VCR tapes, or waiting for film to be developed.

Some people argue this makes the next generations impatient, ungrateful, but I disagree. I think it will make them realize, even more than I do, just how connected we all are.

K.B. Wagers

Not any more.

Are any of you annoyed by the apparent absence of quality control in the products you buy? It was bad enough when, several decades ago, industry introduced the concept of “planned obsolescence.” Something you purchased—a car, for example, or a washing machine—had a built-in life expectancy. In most instances, the item in question would function perfectly right up to the moment the warranty expired, then it would fail. It was annoying, but washing machines and automobiles could be repaired, then run without issue for the next, say, year or two… or ten.

Certain issues were even funny. Take water heaters. Water heaters come in two varieties: those with a five year warranty and those with ten. One day, a plumber friend let me in on the joke. The difference in price between the two was exactly the same as the pro rata amount you would have to pay to replace one five year tank with a second five year tank if the first failed early. The joke was this: there was no difference whatsoever between the five and ten year models. None. The ten year tank is the five year tank. When you purchased the ten year warrantee, you were buying a five year tank but paying the replacement cost up front. If, however, you purchased a five year water heater and it lasted ten years—highly likely—you had saved yourself the difference with a laugh on the manufacturer, to boot.

These days, the issue of planned obsolescence pales in the face of the increasingly high percentage of faulty products the manufacturers produce. I recently purchased a Garmin GPS that crashed thrice on the Santa Fe, Denver round trip. Not something you want to reset while you’re driving. I returned it and was told I couldn’t exchange it. It had been replaced with a more expensive version because it crashed too often. Instead, I took a refund.

Last year my wife and I purchased a Cuisinart double toaster. When straight from the box, one side didn’t work, we made the hundred twenty mile round trip to Macy’s in Albuquerque and brought home a replacement. While it’s noticeably better, one of the four slots toasts poorly on one side and less still on the other. Another round trip? I don’t think so.

My Canon EOS Rebel 35mm digital camera failed once under warrantee. Although the repairs were covered, I was without it for six full weeks. The second time it failed—in the exact same manner I might add—the warrantee had expired and the repairs cost half what a new one would set me back. once the fresh-from-the-factory issues are resolved, run perfectly ever after.

The point I’m making is this: Why are we being increasingly subjected to faulty goods? As far as we’ve come technologically, why can’t manufacturers produce something solid right out of the chute? Every time?

Raymond

After all, it was Ben who suggested that “a penny saved is a penny earned.” When it comes to getting forty percent off already great prices, and 99 cent specials while also supporting an agency that provides job training — you can’t beat the Goodwill.

For some reason, even my relatives from the east coast rave about the local Seattle Goodwill store. There are branch stores all over the area, but for sheer volume of goods, this store is outstanding. They have designer looks at the front of the store, a jewelry and collectibles area and all the shelves are clearly marked, with sizes fairly well organized.

I always go with a mental list of what I’d like to find, and I’m often lucky. But the best bargains are those things you stumble upon that are such a good deal, you just can’t walk away. Brand new sweaters for $1.49, red suede boots for under fifteen dollars, (also brand new), or a set of wine glasses at a steal.

There are definitely folks who don’t understand this quest for good used stuff at cheap prices. I have friends who won’t buy anything used. They wouldn’t brake for garage sales, check the holiday schedule of thrift store sales or peruse Craig’s List. These are actually the folks I count on to pay full price for things and hopefully then grow tired of them and donate them to a good cause. Without them, there wouldn’t be anything decent to buy used.

Growing up in a family with a single mom and three daughters to clothe, we would refer to our new wardrobe purchases as, “new to me.” The strange thing is that even though many of our clothes came from the thrift store, we apparently knew how to wear them. People often asked me where I “got” something and the women in my family created a euphamism, “Sally’s” for that unique little boutique where we shopped. It was actually the Salvation Army store, one of the local thrift shops.

I enjoy the challenge of combining my thrift store bargains with a collection of vintage jewelry to create a unique look. I don’t want to look like the fashion magazines, because that’s a look everyone is copying. It’s pretty funny now that it isn’t called “thrifting” it’s called shopping vintage. Even if the vintage isn’t that old.

Whatever you call it, a morning making fashion decisions on the fly, sorting because your cart holds way too much and coming home to once again pore over your treasures is a great holiday traditon.

And the red boots were waiting were for me. I’m a sucker for red footwear. I swear they put the shoes and boots on the shelf when they see me coming!

Deborah

Seattle Goodwill

Honestly, I wasn’t sure this was working for me at first. I’m a fogwalker, so I always write stream of consciousness and I write fairly fast. But not this fast. (I think it’s my competitive nature. My CPs are machines, and I don’t want to look bad when I report my word count!)

In a normal writing session, I don’t leave the sentence I’m on until every word feels perfect (at least for the moment). And I don’t leave the paragraph until I feel it’s expressing exactly what I mean in precisely the right cadence. If I can’t find that right word or cadence, or if I need a bit of information/research to round something out, I stay right there with that sentence/paragraph until I’ve figured everything out.

During a sprint, I leave blanks. I type in empty parentheses or underscores, I write WHAT ELSE? and keep on moving on. Afterwards, there’s generally a good half hour of clean-up, and you might wonder…am I really coming out ahead in the long run?

I believe I am, and here’s why. Sprints kick my brain into high gear. They get me to the desk no matter what, because if I’ve made a commitment to someone else, I will not break it. They keep me from wandering off to check my e-mail when the story feels bumpy or rough, and when I’m writing that fast, there’s no time to get bored with myself and decide I need to take a break and read some blogs. Also, removing my internal editor and my detail obsession (and its sidekick, research addiction) from the equation makes for pure character voice and plot-driven writing. It gets me forward momentum, and the layers are so easily added in once the bones are on the page.

My favorite sprints are the early morning sort, the ones at the very beginning of my writing day. They’re better than a triple-shot latte, and I end up riding the buzz at least until lunchtime. Then, if I can get one of my partners to meet me at one, the remainder of my writing day is equally productive.

Can’t I sprint on my own, you ask? Of course. But what fun is that? Misery loves company, but so does joy – and I love knowing that I’m not working alone for a change. That up in B.C. or way out in upstate New York, one of my friends is churning words onto the page just like me. It’s like having a pal meet you at the gym; you’re both doing your own thing, but you’re in it together.

Tell me, writers. Have you tried sprints or the Twitter version, #1K1hr? If so, how does it work for you?

Me, My Ant Farm, and How My Six-Legged Buddies Have Healed My Inner Child

First, I want to sincerely thank Lisa Di Dio for inviting me to contribute to Black Ink, White Paper. Second, I should probably level with everyone right off the bat—I do not own an ant farm. Third, although men have feelings too, I am hesitant to discuss my inner child, since doing so would conflict with my macho image. However, with that said, I do believe that life itself — not to mention writing —has both a practical side (the busy ants completing tasks step by step) and an inspirational side (the inner child longing to be enthralled with wonder).

Some philosophers argue that rational analysis and a sense of wonder are at odds. They imply that one can either be a brilliant yet melancholy intellectual who is grounded in reality or a naïve yet joyous mystic with his or her head in the clouds. However, I contend that there is no inherent conflict between rationality and wonder.

Apart from our ability to think rationally, we would have no true ability to appreciate wonder in the first place, since we would be nothing more than objects — incapable of genuine free thought. On the other hand, if we were capable of rational thought but there was no deeper purpose to our existence, then our logic would be empty. As such, I firmly hold that rational thought and wondrous inspiration are not only compatible but are in fact both necessary.

And speaking of my personal sources of inspiration, breathtaking landscapes have always, well … taken my breath. Whether walking along the Northern California coast or hiking in mountain ranges across the Western United States, I have always felt drawn to the wilderness. This becomes readily apparent in my recently published novel, Defiant, Book One of the Northstar Series.

Although Defiant is a fantasy novel, it is intended to directly explore real-world joys and sorrows—to echo the difficult questions with which we all wrestle. Defiant focuses on a warrior’s quest to discover the purpose of his existence, if such a thing exists, and though he comes to strong conclusions by the end of the story, he is still left to grapple with many doubts. Despite those doubts, he is convinced that there are things in life about which he can be certain.

Every day, regardless of what we pursue in life, we need a reason to get up in the morning. This purpose ought to be grounded in both rational thought (day-to-day realities) and a deep sense of wonder (the hope of our dreams being realized). Those of us who lean towards science and heady intellectual pursuits do not need to reject our sense of awe, and those of us who lean towards mystical inspiration need not shelve our critical thinking abilities. The mind and the heart can complement each other perfectly.

–Phillip S. Benson

***
DEFIANT, by Phillip S. Benson is available at Amazon.com

I think this way most of the time, and I get irritated when someone (she knows who she is) pushes me to attend writer-related things. Demands I attend our RWA (Romance Writer’s of America) meetings, and participate in events put on by our RWA chapter.

When I joined RWA some decade ago, I got involved in the online groups, and avoided any in-person groups. They were all right. I learned a lot about the writing process, the publishing process, and gained the bravery to send out my first few submissions. I could be involved, but still unseen.

But then there are nights like last night. We had an event at the Vancouver Public Library, one we have every year around Valentine’s, and because I’m rather shy and have major anxieties about talking to a group of people, I work the book sales table—so I only have to talk to people one-on-one.

It was a long day, and it’s over an hour drive home from Vancouver, but I felt good when I got home. Being surrounded by other writers, new ones, experienced ones, people that still have that special sparkle of loving their writing, loving everything about the process, really revitalized me. I felt good, and came home feeling a little more focused on writing.

I’m not saying I’m not going to bemoan having to go to meetings and when the woman who will remain unnamed is pushing me to attend events, but I’ll try to remember that if I open myself up and take in the “feel” of the group, remind myself that I really do still love what I do just like all these other people, and it really is more than a job…

I hope everyone can find a positive group of fellow writers to surround them, at least once in a while, and give them that emotional push to keep going when the going gets too tough and you want to give up. There’s really something to be said about human contact…even for those of use who doing like much of it.

PS, there’s really no rhyme or reason behind the picture today, I just love it, and harbors have always intrigued me. This one is right next to the restaurant where our RWA chapter is having their Valentine’s luncheon this weekend. Now that is always a lot of fun, and I’m really looking forward to it!

Anna Leigh

I’m tired of people disrespecting our president. I’m tired of people disrespecting my neighbors and friends. I’m tired of people getting away with disrespecting anyone that doesn’t believe exactly as they do; doesn’t go to their church, that is born from another ethnicity or that belongs to a different political party. I think it’s time that people stood up and said enough! That means you and I, all of us have to speak up when we witness someone being bullied. Bullies are cowards and if enough people call “B.S.” on them, they’ll back off. When I here a racial slur, or someone verbally maligning someone or a group, I’m going to call them on it—“I don’t appreciate that kind of talk.” I know I’m only one person, but maybe if I stand up and say something, someone else will, and another and another. I know the bullies are in the minority; most people lean toward civility and fair play. But we, the majority, have to step up and be heard. I believe it was John Donne who said, “No man is an island.” We all have a stake in this, it effects us all. And I personally am fed up with the incivility that is permeating our world! I’m tired of the Bullies running things!

Wally

How many people do you know whose birthdays fall on Valentine’s Day? I know three, and every year I look forward to finding out how they plan to spend their February 14th.

What’s it like to have a birthday on a romantic holiday? Do you get twice the gifts from your lover? Do you feel twice as lonely if you have no one to celebrate with? Do you have birthday cake or do you have chocolates packed into a heart-shaped box? Do you go out for a quiet dinner where you gaze into each your lover’s eyes and speak in sonnets, and then have the wait-people come out from the kitchen singing and clapping for you? Do you celebrate with a romantic date and bring your family along to watch you blow out the birthday candles and shower you with presents?

Both of my kids’ birthdays are in February. Apparently, May is a fertile time of year for me, and due to that fact, my husband still shies away from me the whole month of May no matter how gussied up I get. If I even start acting romantic, a sheen of perspiration forms on his suddenly pale face. My son was born on Abe Lincoln’s birthday. Two years later, I wanted to bring my daughter in the world on George Washington’s birthday, which was her projected date of birth. I loved the idea of each kid sharing that special day with two great United States presidents. Being that I was going to need a C-section for my daughter, I proudly told family and friends that I was going to have two presidential babies. But about a month before she was scheduled to come out, my doctor told me he was taking a Mediterranean cruise on Washington’s birthday so I had to pick from one of two other days for her birthday—either Lincoln’s birthday or Valentine’s Day. Then the question became, do we have our kids share a birthday (along with Abe Lincoln), or do we have a Valentine’s Day baby. The doctor gave me a week to make a decision about a day that would have great meaning in my daughter’s world her whole life. A week! And I thought picking a name was tough. If we chose Lincoln’s birthday, would our kids grow to resent us for making them share everything, including their birthdays? Or would it be something fun they shared, besides a mom and dad? My husband was of the opinion that sharing a birthday would be easiest for all involved—one party every year. Period. We’d save on decoration costs. Being almost nine months pregnant and full of hormones, I couldn’t make a decision. Then my doctor called and told me I could either be in the operating room numb from the chest down and ready to have a baby at 7 a.m. on Valentine’s Day, or I could hold that baby in for two additional weeks until he returned from his lovely cruise.

My daughter is the third person I know who has a birthday on Valentine’s Day.

Do you know any holiday babies?

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Ann

I’m tempted to go with Stuart Redman from Stephen King’s The Stand but I don’t think I will because he’s madly in love with Frannie and, besides, I don’t want to live in that post apocalyptic world. And then there are the male characters I loved as a teenager – from Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged – yeah, yeah, I know how pathetic this is, but I was a teenager, remember?. Besides, this won’t work because I seemed to have loved all of them equally and tended to jump between John Galt and Ragnar Danneskjöld and Francisco D’Anconia – if I could have all three, maybe they are who I’d choose. Even though I’ve gone off Rand’s philosophy, I still love those men.

But I think I’m going to go with a character from a childhood favorite – Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind the Willows. I’m doing this for two reasons. When I first read this book, I fell in love with not just the characters, but the setting. I’d never been to England at that point, though my mother and aunts and granny had talked about it all the time as they all came over in the early 1950s. But from the moment I read the book, I was in love and when I finally, many years later, actually went to England, everything I’d read in Wind of the Willows was true of the England I found. The other reason is the Water Rat aka Ratty. The Rat isn’t a rat but a water vole, a whole other creature. The other characters are fine but I fell in love with Ratty. And when I read the book again – just this week so I could write this blog – I remembered all the reasons why.

Ratty is big-hearted, generous, warm, caring, and smart. He loves the world he lives in – a small English river and its surrounding woods and meadows – and he understands it better than anyone else. He watches out for his friends and their children. He understands how the world around him works and what’s good and what’s not so good in it though he doesn’t judge the world or the animals in it. They are who they are or what they are.

Even more than this, though, I’m going with the Rat because he knows so much about his world, about the small part of it he lives in. I want to spend the summer solstice with him, the longest day of the year. I want to go on the river with him and meet the Otter and Mr. Badger and Toad of Toad Hall. I want to spend time with Mole as he discovers the river. I want to be with Rat when he and the Badger and Mole save Toad’s home from the weasels and the stoats. I want to sit with the Rat by the river and listen to the strange rat as he speaks of his adventures from Constantinople to Norway.

I want to have all my senses alive and awake as I wander through the English countryside with Rat at my side, explaining to me all I experience. I want to stroll through the night in the Wild Wood knowing that because I’m with the Water Rat nothing can happen to me.

I want the Water Rat’s England in my head, in all of my senses. I want to get over the “divine discontent and longing” I feel (as the Mole does as the very beginning of the book) when I read the book. I want to be part of that world.

So that’s what I’d do. I’d spend my day and my night with Kenneth Grahame’s Water Rat and get to know, as Shakespeare says so much better than I:

this scepter’d isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This is how Kenneth Grahame sees the Water Rat’s world and this is the world I want to live in, just for those few hours.

So who’s yours?

Kate