Taleweaving

Writing the threads of my reality

How do you connect to people?

I tend to write a lot of drivel on this blog. Part of it is therapy, of a sort, in that it lets me talk about things that bother me. But really, the rest is a large chunk of drivel with a healthy dose of procrastination.

I should be writing the Novel now instead of this.

Anyway - blogs are usually used to connect with people. This got me thinking today - I follow a lot of blogs, and I enjoy reading all of them, but my participation is largely absent. I don't get involved with other bloggers.

I had to seriously think about why this is, and I can only think it must be shyness. Yes, it's an enormous cliche, but nonetheless true - I'm still struggling with self-esteem as a writer, and it's caused me to be hesitant about reaching out to other writers, agents, publishers, whatever.

Who reads this blog, anyway? I'm not even sure I'm writing it for anyone but me. How do you find out if anyone is reading or subscribed anyway?

....

I just had to look that up. I think I need to have Google Analytics or something.

....

Apparently not! But it still says I have no subscribers, so I guess I don't need to worry about who's reading my drivel just yet.

Themes and subtexts

I was reading Nathan Bransford's post about themes in writing, and it got me thinking as to whether my own writing has themes or overall meaning or whatnot.

Like many young individuals, I was traumatised by the method of teaching English as if it were an autopsy. I've disliked much of Shakespeare for years because I was forced to pick apart his words and phrases, and forced to look for meaning and theme and metaphor instead of appreciating the work itself. It's like trying to cut a Monet painting to pieces in order to understand why it is beautiful.

I've always set out to write stories. Theme and hidden meaning are irrelevant if there is no story, no hook to draw in the reader and hold their attention. This is part of the reason I dislike modern art as well; so much of it seems to concentrate on being... highbrow, inscrutable, pretentious even, and it forgets that art needs to connect with people on some emotional level.

So it goes. Maybe my writing does have hidden meaning, but I dread to think about what it is.

Blogging from an iPod

I've had an iPod Touch for a while, and I've debated getting an iPhone. So far, the hope of seeing a decent Android phone is holding me back.

This is still pretty odd, though. I can essentially blog wherever I have a wireless connection now, and I can type just as fast on the little screen as I would on a normal keyboard. If I had an iPhone, I'd be able to blog anywhere I had a mobile connection.

The question therefore remains: do I have anything to say that needs to go online immediately?It's a bit like Twitter, in a way - or like the entire Internet. You've said it, you can't unsay it - and in the immediate nature of the web, something said (or tweeted) in the heat of the moment will not go away.

People sometimes say that you shouldn't put anything online unless you'd be comfortable shouting it from a street corner. I like to think of it more as having your own personal TV studio, where everything is recorded and you sure as hell don't have access to the tapes.

- Posted using BlogPress. From an iPod too.

The FTC and the new blogger regulations

I follow a great deal of news from America, being as I am highly interested in the American culture and psyche. Being a blogger, the new American FTC rules for blogger endorsements was particularly interesting.

The relevant article from the FTC is here.

Obviously the American blogosphere has began to kick up a fuss about it, which you can find through any simple Google search. From my reading of it, much of the new guidelines are sensible and intended to better protect the public from misleading advertising - but considering the nature of the Internet, I have to wonder whether some legislators didn't really think the whole thing through.

The Internet is a medium of communication, and bloggers in particular are for the most part simply communicating with each other and with their readers. They are not paid endorsers. They talk about their lives and the products in their lives, and it's entirely natural that they will be enthusiastic about the products they really like. Companies obviously know this, and send out their products to certain bloggers in the hope that they will like them and talk about them - but there is no guarantee that they will. Janet Reid sums it up very well in this post: bloggers do not guarantee airtime, as it were, for freebies that companies send them. So it seems that the guidelines in this case become less sensible and more like regulations on the natural communication between people.

The fear I have here is that this may be open to abuse. Consider this - a company sends a free product to a blogger. That blogger discloses the source of the free product, but makes a number of fraudulent claims about it with the intention of having the company slapped with a fine. Another author, Courtney Milan, summarises this problem here. When every violation could possibly carry a fine, what is that company to do? Stop sending out free products, and potentially lose sales as a result?

Intention should mean something in this case. If a blogger makes a malicious fraudulent claim, and that blogger has no connection to the company other than the fact that the company sends them free products with no expectation of airtime, then the FTC should consider that the company is not at fault. Likewise, if a blogger talks about a product in a positive way that they received for free, the FTC should not automatically consider it an endorsement that needs to be regulated.

I hope that the FTC make it clear that they do not intend to chase bloggers for simply communicating, nor allow companies to be held responsible for the actions of others.

Not to be emo, but...

I'm beginning to realise why so many office workers are suffering from stress. It's because of bosses that demotivate, patronise, devalue and otherwise destroy their employees' sense of well-being.

I have two bosses. One is a leader beyond compare; understanding, open, and driven to get the best out of people by viewing them as real individuals with their own quirks and preferences. The other... is not so nice.

They are patronising, unforgiving, unwilling to compromise. They have taken me apart with a single sentence; they view people as robots that should do only what they are told. I am torn down for making a mistake as if I did it maliciously, as if I intentionally didn't listen, as if, as if. And then I am ripped to pieces again for wanting to avoid them at every turn.

I sat in my office today and cried for twenty minutes because of them. I can't help feeling like a total failure, but still I wonder - can I do anything right? Should I keep trying? Or should I take what's left of my self-esteem and hand in my notice, knowing that there are loved ones relying on my money for food, shelter, bills?

There's no easy answer. I like my job, and the people I work with. I need the money. I don't know if I can give up all that because of one person making my day miserable. And then there's the Novel - it's a promise to myself, that someday I will walk away from this misery and spend my life doing what I really want to do.

A drill in your head

I was very surprised today to learn that some people still believe that migraines are just like normal headaches. That they think that they're just very bad headaches, and you'll be grand if you take some painkillers and stop being such a wimp. "It's only a headache", after all, and lots of people get headaches and don't complain.

This makes me quite annoyed.

Let's get one thing clear: migraines are not headaches. That's like saying that someone with the 'flu just has a high temperature; it equates a symptom with the entire sickness. So someone suffering from a migraine attack will have a headache - but that's not the sum total of it, not by a long shot.

If you only get bad headaches that can be cured by over-the-counter medication like paracetamol, you do not get migraines. A bad headache and a migraine are not the same thing.

The cause of migraines hasn't been nailed down yet by scientists, although they have some strong theories. Check out the wikipedia page for a basic description. From the point of view of the sufferers, though, only one thing really stands out - although there are lots of similarities, there is an incredible variety in the range and degree of symptoms. Some people get nausea. Some see spots, or lights, or lines, or go temporarily blind. Some have motor problems, like shaking or tremors. Some have none of these, but instead get severe photophobia. The only symptom that always shows up is the headache.

Migraines are not random as well, although they may seem to be. They are caused by environmental factors, like foods, smells, weather, hormones, even sounds. Again, while there are similarities between sufferers, there's still a huge variety of triggers and none are universally consistent. Excessive light, stress, heat, lack of sleep - anything can be a trigger, and I know some people never learn what theirs are and essentially their attacks appear to be random.

Treatment is just as varied, unfortunately. Without a solid idea of what causes them, and with the variety in symptoms and triggers, treating them seems to be very hit and miss. A drug that works for one person may not work for another, and could make yet another even more sick. Meditation, certain diets, acupressure, and more all have mixed effects. Straightforward painkillers that you can buy anywhere tend not to work, or only have a very weak effect.

Diagnosing and treating a person with migraines is not easy, and plenty of sufferers have talked about dealing with doctors and nurses who don't believe that they are really, truly sick and in need of help. They're fobbed off with painkillers that won't work, or told that it's all in their head or something. It's truly shocking stuff, and it shows that the attitudes regarding migraines are not easily shifted. Hopefully, with the aid of the Internet, that will change for the better.

My own experience of migraines has been... painful, at times. I was diagnosed with the so-called 'common' migraines - those where you don't see spots or lines, also known as 'migraine without aura' - when I was about twelve. I can have several in the space of a month or so, and then none at all for another six months. I've long since learned that people frequently don't understand what's happening to me when I get an attack, and my worst fear is that something will happen to me during one where I'm not coherent enough to explain.

My symptoms begin from one hour to several hours before the headache sets in. I develop the awareness that I am in the initial stage, first of all. I experience increasing nausea, and pain in the right side of my head. I lose focus and clarity, and talking becomes difficult. As the attack progresses, I develop photophobia and feel alternatively hot and cold. I get dizzy. My muscles spasm and twitch; I become very weak, and moving normally takes great effort.

At the apex of the attack, the pain is... not like pain at all. It can't be described. You can say that it hurts, that it feels like a knife, but that's a pale shadow of the reality of it. It's focused into your head, it spreads in waves over your body and makes every breath agonising and blots out all thought, all memory, and you would give anything, ANYTHING, to make it stop just for a second... I can't speak. Forming words, and making those words come out of my mouth takes more effort than I can muster. I shake, randomly and uncontrollably, and I barely have the strength to stand up. It goes on for hours, and somehow I fall asleep.

I wake up the next day - and it's always the next day, if the attack is severe - and I'm exhausted, sore. My head still aches a little, my stomach still isn't right. I'll try to eat something but my appetite is gone, and I won't really feel well again until tomorrow.

I found my magic bullet a few years ago, after spending a long time overdosing on paracetamol to try to stop the pain. In Ireland, you can buy Nurofen Plus over the counter - it's a mix of ibuprophen and, more importantly, codeine. All I know or care about is that it cuts off a migraine no matter what stage of it I'm in; it can shut down the pain and the more severe neurological symptoms in less than an hour. I turn into a virtual zombie, because it makes me numb to everything - but I can still walk and talk and just about function normally. It's a small price to pay.

If you've never had a migraine, you can't comprehend what it's like. This is what they call 'a bad headache', what they claim is all in your head. This misinformation has to stop.

I Dreamed a Dream

I read a very interesting blog post today over on www.nielsenhayden.com. You should go read it.

It's ok, I'll wait.

... ... ...

Read it? Good. Here's the part that really struck me:

It’s a central narrative of Britain’s Got Talent: the shy, podgy little contestant comes out on stage and says they want to sing professionally; that they believe it’s what they were made to do. The audience titters cynically: Yeah, right. The judges don’t quite roll their eyes. “Go on, then,” they say. “Let’s hear it.” The contestant takes a deep breath and —

ZOMG, it’s Paul Potts singing “Nessun Dorma”. It’s thirteen-year-old Andrew Johnston singing “Pie Jesu”. Most recently, it’s Susan Boyle, singing “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables. When they open their mouths, what comes out is the real thing: rich, powerful, self-assured music.

Teresa says, rightly enough, that an editor or agent has to wade through hours and hours of utter crap to get to that ZOMG moment. But I can just hear the writers reading that post and almost jumping up and down saying, "ME! Please let it be me!"

It takes real courage to stand before someone so... disdainful, and still want to show them that you've got what it takes. They expect you to be forgettable, to be a non-entity. They expect less than nothing of your talent. But we still want to be there, no matter how much it might damage us; we want to be the one talent that shines in the darkness and sets their world on fire. That feeling, when you stand there and watch the skepticism and disbelief fade away to joy and you know that you made it happen - that feeling is golden.

I'll bet good money that Susan Boyle will never forget that first moment on the stage, when the music started and her voice soared over the audience who never believed she could do it.