Where's My Cape?

Um, kind of awesome

My earthquake convo post was featured on dcblogs Friday (thanks!) which brought a veritable buttload of visitors to Where's My Cape. Now, I've really stopped checking the stats on this site since, really, when you start to go one month between posts, let's just say that checking stats becomes less of a priority in life (also none too exciting).

But whenever there's some kind of hubbub going on from serious linkage, I always enjoy checking out who is coming by and rifling through my things. It's like allowing a massive crowd into your walk-in closet: I want to know what they stopped and looked at. Of course, most people just check out the post and then go on their merry way, while others linger.

So, as I was poking around the statcounter, I came across this one:

Washington, District Of Columbia, United States
Executive Office Of The President Usa (198.137.241.3) [Label IP Address]
www.wheresmycape.com/blog/2010/07/earthquake-convo.html
www.wheresmycape.com/blog/2010/07/earthquake-convo.html

(I checked that IP address: it IS really that one.)

Art-ing

I had heard so many great things about The Artist’s Way that I decided one day to just buy it and be done with it. (I am constantly in awe of how easy it is for me to buy anything on Amazon.com. SCARY EASY. One-click ordering should be against the law.)

I like the idea of writing Morning Pages, basically a brain dump first thing in the morning, to get all the crap that stands between me and my creative expression out of the way. The exercise calls you to just write. About anything. For 3 pages. No judgment. No limits. Anything. In actuality, I’ve done morning pages for many years, called “journal writing," just rarely in the morning but brain dumps nonetheless.

I remember many hours in coffee shops and the like, writing like mad about the latest inner (or outer) drama. Writing so fast and hard, that the words became more and more illegible.

Later, the morning pages became “blogging,” and really, I see my years of blogging (at times insanely frequently) as a conversion of journal writing into a more public space but brain dumps and processing (and writing practice) all the same.

Handwritten scrawls have become typing (although I do miss writing into a journal- will resurrect) but writing has remained my constant, my connection with my creative side. The right brain lives on.

The other thing the book calls for are Artist’s Dates and these are a bit more of a commitment that I’m not sure I can make right now. A date with myself to bring out the artist in me? With what time? Dude. I know it can be carved out, but seeing as I can’t seem to carve out time to do regular exercise (which I know will keep me from becoming demented later on), I’m doubtful that Artist Dates will happen soon. Also, as I sit on the precipice of a major life change (more on this later), my free time will not grow, let’s just put it that way. (No, not preggers. Stop thinking that! Noooo!)

Am I an Artist? I guess that’s another mind-hurdle for me. But, I think I have come to the point in my life that I can say, yes, I’m a writer. And, writing is my art.

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See, I am posting, really I am

As usual, it's my Momicillin Day...Girl is making a list, and I'm checking it twice. Because I got Santa's back.

Also, on Mothers in Medicine it's Topic Week on "A Day in the Life" where all week we're featuring posts from Mothers in Medicine on what a typical or random day is like for us, from start to finish. I've found all terribly fascinating in a voyeur/wannabe/admiring/jealous kind of way. My day: a real day last week. Being the coordinator, though, means serious posting activities - getting guest posts up, scheduling, nightly rigamarole this week! But, it truly is a labor of love, that site. Lots of great posts to come.

So, I've been posting ALL THE TIME. Hopefully here soon.

I'm wenkebaching, that's it

There's different kinds of heart blocks that you may see on an EKG. That means there's a delay in the impulses going from the top part of the heart (atria) to the bottom (ventricles). Stay with me here. The electrical impulses are needed to reach the ventricles for the heart to contract. Any slowing or blockage of these impulses can result in (warning: technical term) heart rhythm funkiness.

Heart blocks are classified as 1st, 2nd or 3rd, progressing from shoulder shrugging (first) to shudders (third: complete dissociation and chaos). One kind of 2nd degree heart block is called "Wenkebach," pronounced WEN-key-bok. Say that out loud. It's fun, I promise.

In Wenkebach, there's a progressive delay between atrial contraction and ventricular contraction...all the way until a beat gets skipped. On the EKG, you can see this pattern so beautifully: longer interval, longer interval, longer interval, oops. FAIL. Then short interval, longer, longer...you get the picture.

Me and blogging. Wenkebaching. Totally.

This is my way of saying, "Sorry I've been such a crappy blogger. Here! Let's talk about heart block!"

Life has picked up some serious speed as of late - which is good - but I am missing the writing outlet here and my awesome readers. Hoping things slow down just a wee bit soon. I'm trying to re-prioritize projects and commitments (also trying to stay sane).

The good news is that Wenkebach is a benign arrhythmia and pacing (at least with an implanted box and internal wires) is usually not necessary.

So,I'm waiting, for the dropped beat to pass and the cycle to start all over again.

(*However, I'm always here on Wednesdays...)

[filler]

Do you miss my Greatest Hits series featuring awesome google searches that led people to this blog? I know I do. Unfortunately, time has been not my friend lately, and I have not been able to spend any quality time with my statcounter. (Which hasn't been the worst thing, I'll admit.)

But, it does mean I am missing out on great blog fodder every single day.

Every now and then, especially when I haven't posted in awhile, I like to pop on over to the ol' statcounter, taking some kind of masochistic delight in watching my numbers plummet with each passing day I don't post. It's like auto-schadenfreude. (I totally just coined that word.)

This is an exceptionally long and mind-numbing preface to the following search I just discovered:

From an individual hailing from:

Englishtown New Jersey United States

Landing on the page:
www.wheresmycape.com/blog/pseudo-diseases/

For the following search:
People with white eyes all over there eyeballsocket who there are and how

I mean, how great is that? Love it. I mean, white eyes all over the eyeballsocket [sic]. I hate when that happens. SUCH a drag. So their. I mean there. No, they're. Oh hell.

Anyway, did you get the Momicillin email yesterday where I talk about my early-onset dementia? How about my latest review on the Pee pee tee-pee (for the sprinkling wee wee)?

[And now we conclude this section of shameless self-promotion.]

*returns back to cave*

Dedication

I hated pretty much everything about my "Cocoon" post. I even hate the title "Cocoon." Hate it . Hate it. Hate it. It sounded so much like a goodbye post when it was really an I'm changing post, hence the yuke-inspiring title.

Ugh.

I've been thinking ALOT about what I want to write and how I want to write and what I will use this space for. I've taken down some older posts and, in general, am trying to write more anonymously. I was no longer comfortable with the way things were.

I've also been thinking about why I started this blog three years ago.

Over the past few weeks, I've been working on a photobook with all of Girl's Versions. It starts at the very first version, Version 14.0, and goes to the last, version 42.0. The new versions came out monthly until 36.0, then slowly spaced out as the software programmers felt fewer updates were more prudent.

The book is 51 pages and starts with a dedication:

This book is dedicated to my dear daughter J.  I started a blog in 2006, Where's My Cape? in part to document your development through such an amazing time of humor, discovery, joy, and challenge. Each month, so many changes were occurring, that I thought it was fitting to update each month in the format of a software change upgrade: The Versions were born. I hope you will enjoy these some day and know that they were written out of love (laughing with you, not at you).

Love you always,
Mama

I'm getting two. One day, she'll have her own copy. When she's old enough not to be terribly offended and throw it at me.