Millpool.

No, really. I can’t actually cook, and I was giving my PC the old side-eye, tempted to give up and play games. This is not a cooking blog, (if you’re here for the first time, btw) this post is just celebrating a feat of adulting.

Christmas isn’t very big at my house. There are a small number of guests, and I wheel out my plastic-fantastic white and silver tree and cover it with decorations and Christmas crackers we can’t actually pull because the dog goes berserk.

I also attempt to cook things and almost die of heat exhaustion in the kitchen because I live in Australia and it’s usually hot AF with the oven on. To be fair, the last few years have been suspiciously pleasant, but this year I was back to regretting having the table so close to cooking areas.

I don’t cook much. Because I don’t know how.

However, I bought a big fat chicken to roast this year. It was already stuffed with cranberry, walnut and other things I’m too inexperienced to make/put in. Plus, I didn’t want my fingers inside a chicken’s a$$ hole.

Today I learned that when a chicken is this big, it takes a long time to cook…which worked out since my mother had to go to the EMERGENCY ROOM.

Yes, apparently she couldn’t handle not being the star of the show, and thus took on Jesus.

She’d been ill for about a week but it wasn’t ED-worthy until today, of course, right before I called to ask where she was because the food was almost ready. #Murphyslaw

So, I was alone in my house with a chunk of pork I was picking at and too many types of candy for just one person to devour. Being sick myself, (can’t drive at the moment,) I didn’t go with her…but what I did do is get in a solid couple of hours of gaming while wearing the kickass Overwatch hoodie I got for Christmas (CC), and generally feeling guilty about not working on my writing.

Luckily, she was in and out in only a few hours so we did Christmas dinner…and I finally got the dessert I’d been craving since I made it the previous afternoon.

Jelly Jaffa Cheesecake. Apparently Jaffas are something I’ve taken for granted my whole life, passed their gaudy packaging without a second glance while I walked through the candy/chocolate aisle headed for these babies instead. Jaffas aren’t available worldwide(?) and they never seem to be on sale around Christmas (so I had to spend $5 on a gigantic bag I’ll never eat.)

I also followed the recipe but I didn’t want to have left over cream etc. so instead of adding 200mls of cream, it ended up being 300 (for eg.) This cheesecake ended up becoming MEGA and didn’t leave much room for the jelly part, so I mostly poured a little on as a glaze of sorts just to make the orange-y flavour a little more potent.

Modifying does not mean FAILURE, (nothing caught fire or exploded while I was cooking it.) I have paintings which turned out different from what I originally saw in my head but sold in exhibitions on opening night. I wasn’t phased by it not looking like the example picture. That stuff makes me excited, I like to figure things out and put a spin on the original idea.

You may now celebrate my triumph by gazing upon this picture…

TLDR: I don’t cook…but I try on special occasions. I made chicken, pork knuckle and Jaffa Cheesecake.

*Red Cowboys production was paused while I healed a broken rib and other health issues.

*Modification doesn’t mean you failed. It usually means things are personalised, have more character or become a new idea. This goes for writing, art and life. 😛

*Merry CHRISTMAS!

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.

You cannot have more, you little ask-hole.

Oh, so you’re a…’writer?‘

(Who are you published under? Which bookstores would I see your book in? What’s it about? How much do you make from writing? So you, like, write books? Did you choose the front cover? how long did it take you? It’s not that hard, is it? My uncle’s sister’s son’s girlfriend’s adopted cousin used to write too. Do you edit it yourself? How much did it cost to produce that print copy?)

Authors tend to love anything that shows someone’s interest in the worlds they’ve created. However, sometimes people just want to satisfy whims of curiosity without actually caring about the answer. Behold, the cultural greeting song of our people;

*passing work colleague in the hall, walking at normal pace*

“Hi, Jim, how are you?”

“I’m good, Tom, you?

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

(((lame mash of words that usually sounds like…)))

“Ahh, that’s the way!” *added wink.*

Do you care about my book? Huh? Huh? If you care, I will sit there for as long as you need explaining the world that came out of my head and ended up on mountains of paper! I will sit there until we both grow cave-troll beards and our clothes turn to rags.

“What’s your book about?”

People talk about having an Elevator Pitch (in other industries.) They say you should be able to convince a producer that your idea is worth funding/bringing to a big screen etc. in the time it takes for the elevator to reach the ground floor…so, years ago, I memorized a ONE SENTENCE description of King of Spades:

When Cleo Darkrose, a young highly-ranked Black Ops agent sets out on her new assignment she expects the usual; high-tech weapons, violence and conspiracy theorists needing to be silenced – she doesn’t expect to be partnered with her former lover and a couple of headstrong, smart-mouth civilians in a chase after a man who holds some shocking truths about her agency and her past which challenge everything she’s been trained to believe. 

The truth is that an Ask-hole will ask you something like this then not be invested in any answer you give that runs longer than 30seconds. I feel like authors shouldn’t have to impress or pitch their work to someone just asking because it’s something to say.

These days, I vaguely gesture and mumble something about a secret agency, blablabla, female lead, conspiracies and mild sci-fi. This is because I’ve had quite a few experiences where the person will nod and then move onto another subject (which is okay too!) or some people will start saying things like “Oh, going to be the next JK Rowling?”

Well, if the amount of rejections are anything to go by, it’s a definite MAYBE! 😀

Worse, they sometimes ask nitty-gritty questions where the answers would only benefit other authors or those thinking of publishing their work(costs, barcodes, publishers, ISBNS etc.) I genuinely put thought into replying to someone who wants to know information because, if you were to ask anyone I know, I encourage everyone to paint, write, take risks to get creation happening…however, it’s a little sad when it’s for nothing sometimes. 🙁

I guess this post might fall under “wisdom” when I say to let the other person lead the conversation and relax, don’t get too invested and excited at the apparent interest shown. Without being rude, sometimes it seems better to give a simple answer and save you both the time. If not, and they want to know about your paper world (or ebook world!) go in all guns blazing and get them as excited about your ass-kicking heroine as you are. Any support is great and inspires you to keep writing. 🙂

 

TLDR:

*Kiiiinda starting to think everyone should have an Elevator Pitch since attention spans have shortened and even important news comes in soundbites.

*Ask me anything about writing and I’ll give you all I can…But don’t waste my time just strategically checking the progress of my life to compare it to yours for better or worse.

*This entry is short and annoyed because I’m having some health problems and can’t raise hell properly at the moment.

 

 

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden.

 

 

 

My slave gig ran a fire drill today. Consider me burnt to a crisp.

When I found out I was getting paid to walk around pretending things were on fire, I was in. I’ve been a part of a few fire drills in my time and it’s usually a great chance to mess around with your co-workers and waste an hour outside. I ALSO genuinely wanted to know how to get out of the place if it suddenly caught fire too. Yes, really. I had no idea where any of the exits were (besides the elevators) and didn’t know where we were supposed to meet once we left the building.

Within moments though, it felt like I was receiving yet another lesson in how incompetent people are generally, even if they’ve been bestowed the responsibility of wearing a bright yellow hat and shouting at you to get up against a wall like it’s a police line up.

Evidently, there were a lot of people in the building because we were lined up against the wall by the exit stairwell for at least 10mins waiting for other teams to make their way out first.

I’m reasonably sure we would have been on fire at this point.

Then finally on our descent, the people in front of me waddled and trudged down the stairs like loaded snails before we had to stop and wait a few times, for no clear reason.

It was fucking harrowing and I felt ripped off that nothing was actually on fire by then. I was sandwiched between a lady with a body odour problem in a really ugly dress and the dude who wants to have my babies (and whose clothes smelled damp, like when you accidentally leave your shit in the washing machine too long.)

A lady a few people behind me was saying she needed air and had to get out soon but the other stairwell doors were locked and she was having to slum it with the rest of us like we were all 3rd class passengers on the Titanic.

She also decided to start debating the guy behind me about the rules of engagement on 9/11, and he started talking about airspace regulations.

Do you know how hard it is to keep quiet about the NORAD stand down order?

Waiting around on a stairwell corner between two floors, I texted my friend about a gaming update, thought about CC, and wondered if I should have brought the beta hard copy of Red Cowboys with me in case we were going to be outside for a while. Then I looked to my right and saw two coffee cups on the floor in the corner.

((For some reason, I didn’t take a picture so you’ll just have to imagine.))

They were regular size, disposable and stout. One had a white lid, the other darker with brown stick-looking patterns, sitting side by side and nameless. The first thing that came to mind was “hurr durr, 2 girls, one cup.”

I have toilet humour, a vast collection of dank memes, and grew up surrounded by a harem of mischievous men. I’ve never actually seen the aforementioned clip (and don’t want to.)

While we waited in the stairwell, I came up with stories about how the cups got there:

Some guy talking to his colleague and he finally tells her that he’s caught feelings so they discard their coffee together and leave to get a real drink.

Some overweight, balding guy from accounting doesn’t want his team to know he hoovers a bunch of food and two coffees before he braves the day, because he needs to crunch numbers and then go home to a wife who hates him.

The cups belonged to people who will go on to die in our make-believe fire.

That got dark fast, but you get the idea.

Inspiration can come from anywhere and I don’t believe in Writer’s Block! It actually made some of the experience palatable. Apparently, the real reason the cups were there was because people were told to dump their coffees as it was a hazard during the drill, but who wants to imagine that boring-as-hell stuff?!

My group got a third of the way to the ‘safety point’ outside and were greeted by others who had escaped the invisible raging inferno before us. They instructed us to turn around and head back. Why? Because we were flooding public access areas with our corporate O.H.S bullshit.

I know safety is important but they couldn’t even cater for that?! I still don’t know where to go in case of a fire.

All in all, we did waste an hour because some genius didn’t unlock the stairwells so hundreds of people had to file into elevators to get back to work, and I was able to come up with new ideas for romantic comedies I will never write…It ended up being okay. But the best part was going home. The end.

 

 

 

TLDR:

*Inspiration can come from anywhere. Everything has a story.

*Follow instructions but always remember you are an individual and not everyone will know better than you simply because of what they are wearing, their title or their age.

*If you want to debate 9/11, pack your arsenal, and never refer to Popular Mechanics because I will just laugh.

*Fire Drills are important but also fucking lame.

 

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden.

 

The Apostrophe Protection Society announced it’s closing down. This got me right in the Harambes.

*At the time of writing this…I see there has been an interesting development…

Of course I didn’t know about (ahem*) the existence of the Apostrophe Protection Society, but like all humans with access to a blog, that doesn’t stop me having outrage!

The internet hurts my head. It does this nearly every day. I’d say I wasn’t a grammar-asshole but I am, and I will tell you why. The internet has made us forfeit a lot of things for convenience, things such as privacy, dignity (for some!) and this writing thing is a casualty that I can’t stand.

From dating sites, to writer’s groups on social media, to advertisements for official establishments, to news sources…the baffling ignorance surrounding simple grammar irks me.

My fellow Grammar Police bretheren are many and we don’t suffer from OCD, an inflated sense of ego or boredom.

I genuinely have to second-guess who you are as a person if you’ve reached the age of 30 and still don’t know the difference between their, they’re and there…and I want to apologise too, but in a sorry, not sorry way because when you send that text saying, “Hey, I’ll meet you their,” I realllly want to stab you with a fork.

Grammar can be difficult, and we all suffer mental blanks. This post is probably rife with things I could have phrased better or punctuated in a more effective way, but I’m talking about the real easy stuff – things you learn in second and third grade.

There are all sorts of ‘rules’ authors (for example) flout to control flow within their books; commas, full stops/periods….beginning a sentence with “But.”

But, if I’m walking down a street and your registered establishment has a sign out the front which says, “Cheap burrito’s”
I might kick it down.

Probs will.

There’s something about an establishment wanting your money and your stomach in their hands but not being able to understand where an apostrophe should go or how to write plurals. I wish I could find the picture I’m thinking of (I guess I’ll update this if I ever do) but I snapped a shot when I passed a (since closed) pub and it seemed they were having problems in more ways than one. Someone had printed a sheet of paper and taped it to the door…

*found it!

My local grocery store had signage directing customers to the “CD’s,” until recently. The only reason the sign survived that long was because I couldn’t reach it. Again, this is something I will have to update when I find the horrible evidence I have stashed somewhere on this computer.

I completely understand if it’s a text message and you’ve messed up. I know how easy it is to miss a letter on the tactile phone keypad with your fat, uncoordinated fingers. I’m a victim too.

“I’m” often becomes “im.”

“Don’t” turns into “dont,” depending on how full my hands are or how many seconds I have to reply before my life takes another unexpected turn.

The following is a small list of the things which have made me twitch with rage lately. Let me know if you have seen similar.

“That doesn’t make any sence. Their supposed to call first.” – One of my oldest and dearest friends (whom I also want to brain.)

“I have tooken her to the doctor but she is still sick.” – Random lady in medical issues group on social media referring to her child visiting the doctor and getting no result.

“Your a beautiful person.” – Online dude who heard me impersonate a game character and now wants to have my babies.

“I could’ve went and uploaded this video yesterday.” – Youtube narrator reviewing one of the biggest shows of all time.

Random work emails – where higher-ups think that every plural needs an apostrophe. One’s, car’s, cupcake’s etc.

“Sickth” instead of “sixth” (this isn’t really a grammar issue, more a dickhead issue, and also that they get their education from Ed Sheeran songs.)

“I brought these at the shop today!” – Posts on social media by a teacher I know.

The rant is now over. Thank you for hearing me out. My next post should be more better cos your all special to me and i want to make sure your entertained and that you dont think im that mean.

(^^^It hurt me to write that sentence. ^^^)

 

TLDR:

*It’s a sad time when something crucial to communication and meaning of a sentence is ignored because some people are lazy and we’ve collectively given up.

*I am aware of the irony here. I am bitching about grammar and using words like “probs” and beginning sentences with BUT.

*You’re has an apostrophe and we must protect its honour.

*Stop taking language lessons from Ed Sheeran. He can afford to be stupid.
p.s Sorry Ed. It’s a joke! Geeze, why you gotta be so serious?

 

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden.