All posts filed under: everything else that’s missing a home

The Perfect Moment

  We sit on the patio, eager to grab some sunshine and warmth. My birthday is nearly upon me and, as is usual around this day, I have been feeling moody and grumpy — and, most of all, I have been wondering where time can possibly be going to, and seemingly always with such indecent haste. And… and is it still stepping on the accelerator…?!? More…?!? Honestly! What does it want? Light speed…? Hasn’t it got enough already…? And why can’t it for once be kind a bit, take its time a bit, give people a bit of a breather…? Oh, the things I come up with! The very concept of time taking its time… Imagine such a thing! Maybe time taking its time, or stopping for a bit of a breather, would be as preposterous as expecting… expecting what? Anything, really. I don’t honestly know. The absurdity of possibility and impossibility, of life and the preordained, and Fate and Destiny. Of compliance and deviation. I don’t know what I expect. But what would it …

camp’s over…

  Phew, have I been busy this month! I mean, it’s not as if I did not expect to be busy this April, even a bit, erm, well, somewhat busier than usual. After all, I did register for #CampNaNoWriMo and set myself a target of 25,000 of the frequently elusive little buggers we trade in. I thought it would be a perfectly attainable goal while still attending to all my other usual daily grind, and still keep up with reading and reviewing — and, most important of all, sleeping. In my bid to came to my decision more or less scientifically, I had looked at last November, earnestly, quizzically: it’s true that I had very little sleep, and that did next to nothing else, but I had managed to come up with over the required 50,000 words… So, can you follow my reasoning? Halve the goal, and the time you save will allow you to do half  of the everything-else you would otherwise neglect… plus sleep, and if you sleep then work will be, will come easier, be it with words …

~ so, cue in a brand new year; but do we really have to…?

And even more to the point: if this year is all as brand new as it’s supposed to be, why is it that it’s feeling already so old and déjà vu? Maybe it is our fault. All those things we keep relegating to the background, hoping perhaps that by systematically ignoring them we will consign them to some hole in history out of which they will not be able to climb to come and pester our days. But it does not work like that, and they do seem to have this way of coming back to haunt us. Or, at the very least, to inevitably colour everything around us, to cast a shadow of their own onto what we wanted to preserve, pristine and untouched: our brand new year, our yearly welcomed chance at renovation, at new beginnings. Thus with this new year. It has been so bandied about — 2018. That year. You know, the year. 2018. The year when it will all change out of recognition. The year when life as we have known it so far …

Clever Girl ~ a short story by Craig Anderson

  “Welcome to Mind Chip madam, how may I assist you today?” Sarah glanced around nervously, “Is this the place where you sell the brain chips?” The salesman nodded enthusiastically, “If you mean the IQ boosting, wireless cognitive enhancement devices then yes, you’ve come to the right place. Are you looking for something in particular?” A small girl peeked out from behind Sarah’s legs, her yellow pigtails tied off with bright pink bows. Sarah gestured to her, “I’m looking for something for my daughter. I want to give her the best start in life.” The salesman bent down and held out his hand, “Nice to meet you young lady, I’m Ben. What’s your name?” When she didn’t answer the salesman tried again, “Ravi de vous rencontrer jeune femme, je suis Ben.” The young girl stared at him dumbfounded. Sarah leaned over her daughter, “It’s ok sweetie, you can say hello.” The little girl clung tightly to her mother’s leg as she whispered, “I’m Charlotte.” “And how old are you Charlotte?” After a moment to calculate …

such small mercies

  It’s five a.m., and the skies have opened up. Once again. The rain pounds and thunders on the rooftops, on the cars parked outside, on the road and pavements. If I didn’t know better, I’d say St. Peter had sent us a deluge of, well, pebbles and gravel. That’s how it sounds. But no. I stare out of the window, looking for the day that somehow isn’t yet breaking, though only last week it could already be seen blushing above the eastern horizon — and all I see is water. Water. Liquid, determined, insistent, persistent, coming out in sheets after sheets, solid-looking curtains of silvery metal rods that somehow disintegrate on first contact. Pooling a bit everywhere. Hurrying down the street. Over the pavements. And if it goes on like this, everything will be waterlogged. Everything. Including my life. Which, right now, seems to be just about nose-above-surface. And it’s only just August. Still only August. Silently, I drag a chair over, the best I can, nearer to the window. Still gazing out of …

And so it is…

  And so it is that I’m going live again. My writer has just ticked the little circle thing on the reading settings, and hey, presto! here I am for all to see. In the time that I was away — well, not away away, really, I’ve been here all the time it’s just that I was under wraps — my writer eventually gave me a most comprehensive makeover: I’ve got a new theme, new menus, new widgets (a-hem, there’s one widget malfunctioning and still a few that are missing, but the cats say the writer is only human and time is definitely money), a new a review policy, a Rules of Hauissh (whatever one of those is), a new bio page… and a tagline! I’ve got a new tagline!!! Yiiipee! Without one, I must confess that I felt like I was going to the races without a hat! Or to a ball without crystal slippers! Or… well, let’s not get too carried away, you surely get my drift. The writer says that it’s a …

hello again! we’re back.

Hello, and welcome to Nina’s scribbles, my brand new, erm… brand newly refurbished blog home. It’s got new clothes, a new hairdo… everything. It was a complete, very thorough makeover. How do you think it’s looking? It’s still very much work-in-progress, of course, as no doubt you, my patient reader, have already been able to establish. Some of the bones and braces of the thing are still missing, though in the process of being forged. But please don’t despair: it’ll soon be whole and navigable — or as nearly as possible. And over time, too, all those posts that it used to house will be returned here, with feature images tailored to fit. In the meantime, my infamous TBR (to-be-read) pile is slowly progressing towards a deeply satisfying, though immeasurably smaller, HBR (as in, has been read) pile, which might be my second favourite state for books, at least as far as this blog is concerned (the top being, of course, HBRR, i.e., has been read and reviewed). However, and as far as the aforementioned reviews go, there …

best intentions, and things gang aft agley

A week ago I decided to set myself the task of redesigning this blog. It was something that had been in the cards anyway, as I was never completely happy with how the slider was working with the featured posts in the current theme. It simply did not seem to come out right, no matter how much I loved it — and no matter how much I tried. Which I did. I tried all the tricks I know (they aren’t all that many, needless to say, but still), and it always came down to the same two answers: I could, of course, choose different photos for the slider; but I thought it important, for instance, for the reviews to be accompanied by the book cover photos as featured pics… Thus things had slowly come to a bit of a standstill. If using a different featured picture was out of the question, then the only other answer was, of course, to adopt a different theme. But after all the work I had to sort this one …

Oh, the frogs we have to kiss… or do we?

Mr Light came home the other evening to the sight and sound of his wife triumphantly punching the air above her shoulders, while repeatedly muttering a very unladylike crescendo of yes… yes… yes… Pretty much taken aback by such an uncharacteristic display, he couldn’t help reflecting that it was nonetheless a performance after the fashion of a certain mutt of Dick Dastardly fame, and almost indistinguishable from that famous canine’s Wicked Laughter N° 3. So, what could she possibly be celebrating in such a fashion? § Or maybe the question should be, rather, what there is not to celebrate. After all, it is never one’s wish to appear ungracious, and a modicum of humility can always be said as de bon ton. As things are, Mr Light supposes his wife can indeed count herself lucky. While definitely a newbie to this book reviewing lark, she arguably already has a lot to be thankful for. Books have sustained her through a very difficult period of her life, one whose end does not seem in sight. And they both are …

A Short Intermission

With emphasis on the short. I promise. But, you see, needs must. My writer assures me that is so. The fact is, I’ve been for an M.O.T., and it seems I’ve been found severely lacking — mostly, in the looks department, though the word ‘functionality’ has been mentioned at some point about something or the other. Surely it can’t have been about me…? Nevertheless. All things considered, it appears I’m now due for one fantastic makeover (or so my writer has promised me).g I’m told it’ll begin with a brand new magazine-style — yippee! new glad rags! — with a bold top menu and a slider for a number of highlighted posts, as well as well-defined display areas with side menus. But that may not be all. My writer has confided in me that a brand new, Miss-Clever-Clogs tagline, something this theme has sadly been lacking in, may also be in the works. It might depend on a thing or two, but it’s not out of the question — and, to tell you honestly, I have missed having a …