Notes from Under a Rock

Yes, I have fallen into a hole. It is my hole, however, and I like it here.

Recent small events on the mailing list of a certain peerage order have reminded me why I don't volunteer for more administrative duties in the SCA. Ask for input, get a resounding silence. Ask specific questions, get answers which are at best tangential. Make a proposal with requests for constructive commentary, get only 'no, that idea sucks.'

Fine. Rewrite your own bloody forms. Or not. I quit.

That sounded pissy, didn't it? It was pissy. I'll admit my recent hole-dwelling has probably not made me the most effective advocate for the small task for which, to be fair, I did volunteer for in the full knowledge that no one would be happy with the outcome, no matter what it was. But you know, I did ask for input, months ago, and heard squat. I have asked specific questions and did request specific suggestions on the changes I proposed, and got tangential rants and dismissive 'no, that's not right either' and absolutely nothing useful.

Whatever. I'm done. Have a nice time playing by yourselves. Rant over.

We're not going to be at KASF because the Viking has the weekend off, just for a change, and we thought we'd like to have a little quality time together without being boxed into one of our elderly vehicles for hours at a time. Those of you who are going, have fun.

It occurred to me that part of why I haven't been writing here a lot recently is that I finally did give up on commercial radio and switched the station in the car to public radio. Instead of background music, I've been listening to Morning Edition and All Things Considered during the commute. This isn't a bad thing in itself, of course, but I tend to pay attention to them rather than let my mind wander onto the things I might write about here. And I don't want to become one of those diarists (I hate the term 'blogger') who just comment on the news and politics -- that's not my style. So, the forecast will be for intermittent entries until I find a way to strike that balance again.

Somewhat tangential to the above, but not entirely unrelated: I know most of my readers are fellow diaryland folk, and I'm on your favourites lists and you can track whether or not I've been blethering from there, but I know there are some of you reading, and regularly too, who are perhaps coming from other sources. (You, Baltimore banker! I see you! And you also, Maker of Vaccines!). Would it be of use to you folk for me to establish a notify list? Leave a note (anonymously, if you prefer) in my guestbook if that would be of use to you. I've held off doing it since it smacked a bit of arrogance to me -- let's face it, most of the people reading this know me in real life and are kind and indulgent friends, and I don't really expect there are that many checking in because they find my prose so gripping. But I live to serve, so if I can improve your diary-browsing experience with a mailing list, let me know.

I don't know Taylor Graham, but he seems to know my dog: Ode to Dog

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