Sunday Breakfast

Your favourite Sunday breakfast restaurant is closed. Do you look for a new place to try, go to the well known fast food place even though you don’t really like it all that much or do you just go back home and make something there? What do you think your choice says about you and yourself as a character?

Surviving the Afterness

The world suddenly ends, civilization is broken up and people are just surviving in little pockets or alone. Communications are down, no Internet. No electrical power but for the odd generator still managing to function. Think about it… how would you carry on? How would you find food, shelter and the other basics for living? Would you stay alone or find a group to pool resources with? What skills do you have that might be just a hobby now but suddenly become valuable in the new way of life?

Musing with Words

Words are great. They come in a variety of styles, sizes and shapes. They don’t need to be fed and clothed or taken for walks. They won’t beg for food at your table and they never pee on the carpet. They have other ways of nagging at you, digging into your soul and making you lose sleep and even your sanity along with it. Words really are mightier than the sword. Just ask any writer staring at a blank sheet of paper or word processor screen.

Do you have a muse? I don’t. What I do seem to have is a being that takes over my body and my mind and lets me watch while she/ he creates wonderful things with words. I’m not suffering a split personality or psychic interbody takeover, or whatever. It just seems at times that I am not the one doing the writing at all. I don’t know where it comes from but I can see my fingers busily tapping away at the keyboard. I don’t think that is what a muse is.

To me a muse is an inspiration that you hope you can continue to rely on for as long as you pull words out of the air and put them neatly (or messily) in some form of print.

If I have a muse it is the words themselves. I have long had a love affair with words. I could sleep with them, roll in them and live my life learning all of them by name. My favourite words are the kind that sound like their meaning or those old English type words like bewitching, beguile and serendipity. On a college exam I used the word persnickity as a word that sounded like what it meant. It was not accepted, not that I failed but she insisted persnickity was not a word. I still don’t know. Some dictionaries have it and some don’t.

But, to me any word that more than half a dozen people know about, is a word. Its up to us to figure it out.

Run Your Own Country

NationStates is a free nation simulation game. Build a nation and run it according to your own warped political ideals. Create a Utopian paradise for society’s less fortunate or a totalitarian corporate police state. Care for your people or deliberately oppress them. Join the United Nations or remain a rogue state. It’s really up to you. Inspired by the novel: Jennifer Government by Max Barry.

The Feminist Test – Housewife

You scored 33% Gender-Abolitionist, 40% Sexually Liberal, and 0 % Socialist

You are the housewife feminist. You aren’t very philosophical or political, but rather personal and practical. Housewife feminists feel there is no need to drastically restructure society or government in order to help women. You tend to feel that individuals can make their own lives better, and restructuring society is either pointless or too extreme to achieve these goals. You are also a very moral type of person, and tend to see the plight of women through a moral lens, not wanting to oppress others in woman’s attempt to relieve their oppression. You also tend to see men and women as being very different from each other, and certainly not as equals. Some housewife feminists will even see women as superior to men because they have better qualities, such as more compassion. Normally, you would probably be classified as the “Cultural” feminist, because you emphasize the differences between men and women, tend to lack political motivation, and are not concerned with sexual liberation. I have called this position the housewife feminist, however, because someone in this category could easily be confused with a ’50s housewife–simple, non-political, accepting gender roles, holding traditional moral values, and having little sexual liberation. However, it is important to note that this does not mean the housewife feminist isn’t concerned with the women’s movement. Rather, they are concerned for women as individuals and see the radical philosophies of other feminists as impractical or misguided. You resemble a ’50s housewife on the surface, but beneath the exterior beats the heart of a true feminist.

So Quiet This Weekend

Kind of spooky. Like I wandered into one of those end of the world movies. Everyone has been evaporated from the planet but me. I’m left to wander around, which is pretty ok with me, alone going anywhere I please. Imagine all the stuff you could do. Banks and such wouldn’t matter, if your first thoughts went to amassing cash. Everything would be free for the taking. Haul away as much stuff as you can carry. I’d gather food, canned and jarred stuff like pickles (I especially love dill pickles). Then I’d pick out a place I really want to live, maybe two even. One in the city and one in the middle of nowhere, by the water.

What would you do if you woke up one morning and found you were the last person left on the planet? Possibly there are others but it could take you a lifetime (or a great amount of luck or skil) to find them.

I think it would be fun. Eventually I would miss having someone to talk to, I guess. I could always get a lot of blow up dolls from some adult store and have instant company. They’d be really quiet and not much help but at least they’d keep out of my way and not want to share any of my supplies.

I think I’d miss things like radio, TV and the Internet more than I’d miss having actual real people, physically there. They say you would go crazy being alone for a long time. I wonder… Even if I did go crazy I doubt I’d actually notice a huge difference in myself. I already talk to myself. I already talk to inanimate objects. There are times when I answer myself in these conversations. So, really, how would I know I was crazy? Maybe I’d imagine someone and they could tell me.

You never know…

For now, I’m missing Skye. Did she try to sneak away from her blog? Doesn’t she know about the blogging contract? How silly of her not to read the fine print. 😉