Fun With Menopause

I wrote this several months ago and wanted to share with the women of the world, what my experience has been like. You are not alone! To the men of the world… I apologize if this scares the daylights out of you, but I honestly hope you get a good laugh from it. Quietly… away from your wives… like… in a closet somewhere safe… with the door locked and the lights off… 

We’ve all heard of the “Big M” but what is it really like? Let’s take a journey, shall we?

https://hubpages.com/health/Fun-With-Menopause

Thoughts

A slightly skewed look into my random thought process….

Coffee

License To Fidget

         

Public Bathrooms: An Informal Study In Economics vs. Common Sense

Collector, or Just Crazy?

**Name Change Notification!**

I, C.A. Bennett – Writer, do hereby not-so-solemnly notify the public at large of my blog’s semi-sorta-officially-silly name change from “C.A. Bennett – Writer” to “Reflections In Type”. Furthermore, I do hereby warn any and all who care to know, that I will occasionally post photographs of my irregular ramblings as they are typed using any one of my collection of typewriters.

Some of these aforementioned posts may be comical in nature, or they may be funny. They may be of a political nature, or spiritual. Then again, they may be informative or simply musings. The point is…. They’ll probably be typed.  Sometimes. When the mood moves me. Oh, and uh… same copyright mumbo-jumbo applies, so yeah… ask me before you use my stuff, okay? Okay, thanks!

That is all 🙂

Blessings,

C.A. Bennett – Writer

The Deadline Approacheth!

All you need is motivation.

False! You need fear, and a fast-approaching deadline!

 

So this entire past week, I’ve been staring at my desk and it’s vast array of writing implements; 1956 Royal Aristocrat Typewriter, 1982 Smith Corona WP 1100, ACER laptop, and a host of notebooks, pens, pencils, highlighters, etc. and I’ve written NOTHING. Okay, that’s not true, I wrote a few pages of random ideas in my main notebook, But have I typed anything remotely related to my book?

Nope! Nada! Zero! Zilch! Zip! Zowie!

So not cool.

Then – as I was reading through “On Writing” by Stephen King…

You: “What?! Still?! How long has it been, for God sake?!”

Me: “Okay, yes – I’m STILL reading it. Hey, It’s been a busy week, okay?! Don’t judge me! Remember Thanksgiving?”

You:”Fine, whatever…”

Me: “Yeah! Thank you!”

Anyway… it hit me – probably because I read it in his book – what I need, is a an actual HARD DEADLINE! Not the namby-pamby, wishy-washy, “I’m hoping to have it finished in a few months” nonsense I’ve been telling people when they ask that ever-present and ever-annoying as H-E-double-hockey-sticks question:

“Oh hey! How’s your little book coming along? Are you still working on that?”

Yes. Yes I am. Thank you for asking.” *grumble, mumble, teeth gnashing, grumble, and skulk away*

So yeah. The deadline. I have decided, that my deadline is March 1st, 2017! Now if my math is correct, and I assure you it is – I have 94 days in which to finish my book. I have about 48,000 words to go. That’s 510.5 words per day.

That is TOTALLY DO-ABLE!

How do I know? Because I can typically – when no one is driving me batty talking incessantly – *cough*-Rob-*cough*- write between 1,500 – 2,000 words per day. Interestingly, I found out that is Stephen King’s daily goal – 2,000 words per day! Of course he does it by 11:30 in the morning, and I’m usually sitting here till about 5 pm. But again… *cough* Rob *cough*.

Love my husband, I do. Want to stuff a sock in his mouth on occasion? The thought has occurred to me.

Were my house larger than 900 sq feet, I would reserve a room and lock myself in each day until my goal is met, then come out and get on with my life. Such as it is…. it is not, and I must have my office in the only space available – the dining room. You’ve seen pictures. You know. If you haven’t and you don’t – feel free to take a walk though my older posts. Should you feel so inclined to buy me a bigger house with a room of my own… well I’m okay with that. But for now… I suffer as any good artist would. I’m kidding! Kinda…

So wish me luch, and keep your fingers crossed, but don’t hold your breath, because I refuse to be responsible for anyone who turns blue and passes out as a result of waiting for me to meet a self-imposed deadline, thank-you-very-much!

Ta, darlings!

C.A. Bennett – Writer

Help! My Superior Temporal Gyrus Is On The Fritz!

As much as I hate to admit it, I think it’s fair to say I’ve been hit with a case of writer’s block. Seeing how much I’ve been posting here, you would think I am full of baloney, or tell me, “It’s all in you’re head!” Of the former, I assure you, the only thing I am currently full of, is the leftover turkey & fixin’s we discussed yesterday, in The Aftermath. Of the latter, I would have to agree. Because let’s face it… that’s where writer’s block is; in the head.

The term, “Writer’s Block” is defined as: “The condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing.”

See what I mean? It’s all in my head. Or… it isn’t. Whichever you prefer. Frankly, I believe it – by the way we are referring to the story-line for the fantasy fiction novel I’m currently writing – is in my head, but stuck somewhere between my Parietal Lobe and my Cerebellum. See figures A & B below.

A.

B.

It’s all here, in this article: Inside your brain: When you get a creative idea , but the point is, I can’t seem to get what I have in my head to flow down my neck, through my arms and out my fingertips to the typewriter, and become the paper version of the world and characters I’ve got dancing the tango in my Occipital Lobe. At least… I think that’s where they are…

So how to break this block of mine? I’m doing as much reading  as I can, researching for the book, and taking random notes as ideas pop in fleetingly and then pop back out again. My hope… and I do sincerely hope… is that I’ll somehow shake things loose enough to where my imaginary friends will settle down, and want to talk to me again.

Between you and me, I think they’re having trouble getting out of holiday mode, and just want to continue the party, by consuming mass quantities of sugary foods. However, I’m on to the little devils, and – now that the pecan pie is gone, and the homemade caramels have taken up residence with my grown kids – we are going to get back into work mode, and force them to straighten up and fly right, gosh darn it!

I take comfort in the words of Joseph Heller, who said, “Every writer I know has trouble writing.” Pretty nice to know the man who invented such works as; Catch-22 (1961 satirical novel), and Sex and the Single Girl (1964 Movie), also had bouts of the frustrating, but fortunately non-lethal condition known to pretty much anyone who’s ever tried to write so much as an assigned essay or term paper.

My new favorite writing story is one I read in “On Writing a Memoir of the Craft” by Stephen King

“A friend came to visit (author) James Joyce one day, and found the great man sprawled across his writing desk in a posture of utter despair.‘James, what’s wrong?’ the friend asked. ‘Is it the work?’
Joyce indicated assent without even raising his head to look at his friend. Of course it was the work; isn’t it always?
How many words did you get today?’ the friend pursued.
Joyce (still in despair, still sprawled facedown on his desk): ‘Seven.’
‘Seven? But James… that’s good, at least for you.’
‘Yes,’ Joyce said, finally looking up. ‘I suppose it is… but I don’t know what order they go in!’

So there’s hope. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to attempt to coax my little characters out of their hiding places in the jumbled up mess that is my sugar-drunk brain.

Many Blessings!

C.A. Bennett – Writer

The Aftermath

When I embarked on this magical journal we affectionately refer to as “Thanksgiving” over a month ago, (yes that’s correct, my family actually began the planning process for a ritual gathering, and feast complete with the sacrificial poultry in early October, because they – not me, this time – are nuts) I had no clue that I would spend the day after, aka Black Friday, in a food-induced coma that would last nearly twenty-four hours. Seriously, I have been sitting in the same chair, looking at the same computer, for the past twelve hours, doing absolutely nothing whatsoever. I can’t even remember what I’ve been looking at, or reading, with the exception of this hilarious video of How Kids React to Typewriters.

I swear, I’m not making this up! I actually ate fairly sparingly yesterday compared to years past, but what I did eat, mainly consisted of sugar, or bread, or – God help me – a deadly combination of both in the form of that all-time holiday staple – Monkey Bread. Add the homemade caramel candies I’d prepared the night before, and the pecan pie my eldest son brought, and by 3 o’clock yesterday afternoon, I had a case of sugar overload so bad, I thought I was going to die. Like – literally – go to the hospital with a case of instant diabetes that kills you on the spot, happy-thanksgiving-thank-you-very-much – D.I.E.

I had the shakes

I was totally exhausted and weak all over

I had a headache

I was dying of thirst

Then it hit me – the past couple months, I’ve been attempting to avoid sugar as much as possible, then all at once, completely bombarded my system with the stuff by direct consumption and topped it off by carb-loading, which of course, turns straight to sugar in your body. I also had too much coffee and a cup of tea, not nearly enough water and zero protein. Oh good. Caffeine + the Sugar Mother-load, dehydration and nothing to help metabolize this toxic combination. Awesome idea, Crystal. Good job!

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we attack obviously unhealthy concoctions with reckless abandon at least twice a year – Thanksgiving and Christmas in my case – all in the name of holiday cheer? I have a two part theory;

1. Commercialism.

2. Tradition –  which in many cases stems from commercialism.

All that aside, I had a very nice time with my family, with the exception of the gratuitous – and also traditional – thanksgiving argument between my mother and I on our differing cooking techniques, which unfortunately took place in the middle of her front yard this year. I’m not entirely certain we were overheard by any of her neighbors, and it didn’t come to blows, so I suppose it’s was fairly well ended, when I conceded the match in favor of not ruining it for the rest of the family, which consisted of all five of my grown kids, my husband, and a variety of significant others. Any other day? “Look out, mom, them’s fightin’ words!”

Here’s the kicker… we have exactly thirty days till we do it all over again.

Happy Post-Thanksgiving Food Coma Day, folks! Many Blessings to all, and to all a good bite!

C.A.Bennett -Writer