On a Whimsycal

Imagine that.

[on-a-whimsycal]

Lost in the Library

Lost in the Library

Don't worry I'm not actually going to the library currently, but I need to vent some frustration.

It's time to grow up, but finding the right navigation is tough.

  Maybe it's just me, but the "grown-up" side of the library is incredibly intimidating. I'm talking about the side with higher vocabulary and more thought out relationship than the "He's/she's hot, mysterious, and kind of mean. Let's kiss." (Looking at you, almost every teen romance.)

   At least in the teen/tween fiction I can tell you I can tell you the warning signs. For those books, I can go into a library I DON'T know, and point out the intriguing, maybe…, and oh, heck no. All this, just from cues on the covers and the first 10 pages.

Before you tell me there's my problem, stop judging the books by the cover, listen, I've only once regretted following those cues, and that was for a unheard of book from the early eighties. Books do have marketing divisions, and the publishers gear covers for the targeted demographic. Better to be eye-catching so as to make the author money. By adding certain colors, pictures, phases, hooks, and words the publisher can lure in the targeted customers. This services a knowing consumer well when browsing to books. 

  Which brings me back to my problem, what are the cues I need to be on the lookout for? How can I tell the difference between a literary art and knock off Harlequin bodice rippers (Sorry, bad example. Harlequin anything is annoying enough to spot a mile away.) I can't figure out what the cues because the books either have an excessive amount of conflicting messages, or so minimalistic there is nothing for me to analyze. I honestly only want to check out a set of books where I don't have to stop reading a third of the way in, because over the top cussing and R-rated material. I want to check out a book with less stupid teenage that's more at home on a sucky high school drama. Is that so hard?

[on-a-whimsycal]

How to ADHD channel review: first draft

When I was in third grade I was diagnosed with ADHD, or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. That basically means that I can’t focus like most people can. At least that was what I thought was it. But that didn’t explain a lot of the things that I would do or have problems with that other people seemed to be able to fly through while I would be floundering in the water below. I had lots of help with K-12 from my parents, some teachers (the rest cared, but really just didn’t know how to help,) administration, and one high school counselor that helped me turn my senior year around. I finally graduated right on time after many tears, lots of sweat, and yes, some blood, too. I had done it! There was one problem. Now I’m expected to be an adult, and for some reason, even though my parents taught me everything from folding clothes to getting to places on time, I couldn’t seem to figure it out.

I came across this one channel called “How to ADHD” one day, and after that first episode, I was floored. She understood and her advise would work!

[on-a-whimsycal]

I might have a problem...

You know, I always thought I was less reliant on technology than the typical millennial.

Well. Then I realized that the cords in the picture are very typical to when I finally settle in to an apartment. Now they’re not mine. BUT. Seeing them there seems like the finishing touch to make the apartment lived in.

What does that say about ME?!

[on-a-whimsycal]

Rainy Days

I love rainy days. The rain just makes everything so vibrant. Some of the best times of the year are the spring rains.

Last April, I forgot to pack a lunch, so I took a walk to the sandwich place down the way. As sheets of rain faded into a heavy drizzle, a pair of streaks of brilliant new leaf green and petal pink caught the corner of my left eye. Two lanes of trees with dying blossoms in the droplets lining the road to the center street. The pure life and joy of those trees of being in the mists and rain. My feet stopped, and I just stood in my wet hoodie soaking (in more ways than one.)

[on-a-whimsycal]

I've heard mountains described as majestic before (and they're right,) but can we just talk about how crazy weird mountains are? Mountains are essentially giant mounds of rocks, sand, vegetation, and soil (it's called soil when it's in the right place. Not dirt, apparently. Thanks, fourth grade.) that grew or was worn down in this giant sand box of a planet. Like some kid who hasn't figured out sandcastles thought "Huh. PLAY TIME!" and started shoving sand into peaks and valleys. You know, I'm sure this kid and I will get along great!

You know biomes? Those things on that one game that you definitely play, or watch other people play, and wonder why you find this so much fun. What was that game called? Oh, yeah. Minecraft. (Seriously through, why do I find it so entertaining to watch someone play this?) Yeah, so real mountains can some times have multiple biomes all squished into this relatively small area. You can have desert lizards on one side of your mountain, and on the other side, just a couple hundred feet up, goats that are mop than muscle. It's so strange that so much can change in so little space.

It's so strange and odd and different and...

Wonderful. That a thirty minute drive can take me to both a leafy forest and a lively desert is...incredible! I have seen deer wandering around the out skirts of my city and when I take a three hour drive I can see the prickly pear cacti bloom just because of a change in elevation. Just because of the same formations that look like an amateur mason chipped away at some huge rock they found.

[on-a-whimsycal]

Book: a Love Letter

Dear Book,

I know this is sudden, but we have known each other for a long time and I must say I am completely and irrevocably head over heels for you. Your pages, your covers, your spine indeed everything about you brings me joy of the highest measure.

When I was young, I remember the nights when my sister could no longer resist the call of her bed and would fall into slumber. I would be left alone with only the lights from upstairs and my overactive imagination to keep my company in the long hours until the sandman would call me to his arms. My loneliness and boredom would transform my room into a tower that cut me off from the rest of the world. You were my magic carpet that would whisk me away from my prison cell into a dream of another. Worlds spun with magic and mystery, where benevolent masters teach and malevolent beings roam. Places where fairy tales are reality and adventures are always just around the corner, all the while, sighing a lullaby of rustling pages in my ear. All this and more in a little package that can fit under my arm.

My informative friends of the nonfiction genre, you are not forgotten. You were the ones who helped me first discover my dream of becoming a doctor of medicine. What I found in your covers were jewels of knowledge given freely to the curious pursuer of truth. I love the way you open right up to me. Your frank ways are so sincere.

All my love,

On a Whimsycal