Randomness Report From the Mile High

July 29, 2010

Summertime, and the livin’ is… busy? Happy? Crazy? Breathless? All of the above! Especially that last one. I’m no longer writing from the oxygen-rich, sea-level air of New York state. After months of planning and organizing and packing, weeks of transitioning, days of driving, I’m all set up in my new office (and home) at 5280 feet up. Because…

1. We moved back to Colorado! After 2 years back east, we realized how much we love the mountains and sunshine of the Centennial State. Yes, it really is sunny here. Mad sunny. The whole snowstorm thing is kind of an urban legend perpetuated by native Coloradans to keep people from moving here, but we’re totally onto those tricksters now. I mean, it’s so sunny here that even when it rains, we get rainbows.

2. Speaking of rainbows, did you see the Double Rainbow Guy video? If you have a few minutes, watch the whole thing.

I seriously got choked up watching this. How many people (especially adult people) do you see getting so emotional over anything, let alone a rainbow? Whenever I see a rainbow or some other really cool natural phenomena, I think about how fortunate I am to be able to witness such things, and “Bear” reminded me of that. Plus, I have a special affection for double rainbows, because they seem to appear in my life an special occasions, marking big and wonderful changes. The first was on our wedding day here:

Double Wedding Rainbow

The next was 2 years later on the day I accepted my first book deal, just after I left work for the day, wondering where this new path would take me. And three years after that, on the day we moved back to Colorado, we had a flash rainstorm followed by… yep, another double rainbow — the perfect welcome home sign. I didn’t even take a picture because I knew I’d always remember it.

3. FIXING DELILAH HANNAFORD news: The book is now called FIXING DELILAH, and the new cover is coming soon. Those of you who’ve scored ARCs have seen one cover, but it’s changing, so hold on! FIXING DELILAH officially hits the shelves, new title and new cover and all, on November 2.

4. Facebook freedom rocks! Hi. My name is Sarah. And I’ve been Facebook free for many blissful days. By “free” I mean “profile-less.” I still have a fan page for book updates and contests, but I don’t have the whole ball of big brotherly wax following me around to different web sites and collecting my personal information for some yet-to-be-revealed plot of global domination. Or something. Wait, I think my tinfoil hat is getting hot under all this sun…

I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer filled with happy sunshine, double rainbows, and lots of great books!


Facebook, Get Outta My Pants

April 21, 2010

For the past few months, I’ve been seriously re-thinking this whole social network thing. Through the Web, I’ve met a lot of great people I otherwise wouldn’t know, and I’m grateful. And I’m still planning to use the Internet to keep in touch, to post blogs, to e-mail, to learn about books, to chat with readers, to find stuff. But today, after reading about Facebook’s Crusade of Colonization and being forced to opt out of yet another shady invasion of privacy thinly disguised as a service, I’ve finally decided to dump the world’s biggest social imperialist.

Because you know what Facebook is?

Facebook is that really cute guy at the party who’s sooo charming… because he wants to get into your pants. If you don’t give him some outright, he acts all sweet, like he’s super into you, promising you the world. If you still don’t let him in, he steps up his game — first feeding you beer, then kissing you and telling you how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how he can’t live without you (tonight). Then, as a last desperate resort, he reminds you that all of your other friends and the most popular people already let him into their pants, so if you want to be popular (or even liked), you’d better do the same.

Well, I’m done with that.

Facebook, you need to get your grubby corporate paws up outta my virtual pants, okay? And if a straight “NO” isn’t good enough for you, here’s a really long bunch of reasons to which you may refer later if you find yourself thinking wistfully about our former relationship, wondering why I’m long gone.

Why I’m Dumping Facebook

I deactivated my Facebook account! Indefinitely! I really did it. So if you’re looking for me there or wondering if I’m shunning you or something, I’m not. I’m shunning the software. I’m shunning Personal Relationships.com Inc. a Limited Liability Company.

–Sara Zarr, in her recent post on deleting her Facebook, Calvin Report + Facebook saga reaches a final (?) end.

It’s going to take me about 1500 words to say what Sara captures so perfectly in one paragraph, both because I’m an over-explainer by nature and because I’m hoping maybe some of this might encourage those of you who are considering your own FB breakup.

Here goes…

  1. Facebook Kills Relationships: By automating interaction, Facebook takes the “relate” out of “relationship.” More than any other online service I use, it has become the great homogenizer. FB is so eager to categorize and box everyone in, track everyone’s relationships and personal tastes, follow your actions, tell you who to invite or reconnect with… it’s downright unnatural! All of my FB interactions feel exactly the same now — a gray blur of likes, dislikes, newsfeeds, and a never-ending campaign of blocking invites to spam sites that call themselves games.

    “But Sarah, Facebook makes it easier to connect and communicate!” Um, no it doesn’t. Facebook simply makes it so you don’t have to connect and communicate. Why make the effort to call someone to invite her to your birthday party when you can just make a Facebook invite? Why share a photo album of the kids with their grandparents when you can just post it for everyone to see on Facebook? Why spend the afternoon with a friend talking about what’s going on in your lives when you can just read about it in your Facebook status updates? When relationships can be managed online, when everyone becomes a blue and white screen dotted with icons and brief little witty bits, why even leave the house at all? “Connecting” seems effortless on Facebook because it is effortless, and that’s not a good thing when it comes to relationships — even virtual ones.

  2. Public Life & Private Life Don’t Always Mix: I initially used FB primarily to share news and info about my books and to connect with teen readers, librarians, and other authors online. In that way it was kind of a marketing tool, but because I write and I love what I do, “marketing” really just means “talking honestly about the stuff I love.” So online, am I marketing, or am I relating? Am I selling, or am I connecting? I don’t know anymore. And then, I also used FB with my family, my friends in real life, and people from high school. I don’t want friends and family to be bombarded and overwhelmed with all my book stuff (especially if they already heard all about it in person), and I also don’t want teen readers or librarians watching my family members argue or overshare on my FB wall. See? It’s all getting so multiple personality disorder-ish! It’s like trying to seat people at a wedding where the bride and groom’s parents are all divorced and remarried. I’m like, why didn’t we just elope?!
  3. Drama & Negativity Are Rampant on FB: And boy, are they toxic. I’m so tired of learning about divorces, fights, bad news, and even positive big events that used to be shared in person (new relationships, new babies, moves) in the lives of family and friends via Facebook (and getting in trouble when I don’t hear about these things because the little blip just didn’t turn up in my newsfeed among the thousands of other blips posted that day). I’m tried of reading about everyone joining “I hate this and that” groups or “I bet we can beat that group” groups or “Raise your hand if you thinks so-and-so looks like a cow” groups. I’m tired of cyberbullying. I’m tired of having to police my wall to make sure no one posts anything inappropriate or personal. These days, logging into Facebook just makes me feel… bad.
  4. Data Aggregation is Creepy: Facebook is a corporation. That means their primary business is not to entertain or serve us, but to make money. They don’t charge users for the site, and there aren’t many ads. So how do you think they turn a profit? By selling our information — information that we freely give, often without even realizing it (like those little “get to know your friends” questionnaires or “tell everyone how we met” status updates — yes, it’s all mined for info).

    Think about how much personal information you share on FB. Photos, birthdays (even if you don’t post it, your friends might still wish you a happy day on your wall!), pets names, anniversary dates, school names and grad years, job info, travel plans, interests, hobbies, where you are, where you’re going, who you like, what you like, who you’re friends with, your relatives, what sites you visit… all the stuff passwords are made of. All the stuff your life is made of. All worth mega-money to advertisers and marketers who seek to define and label you so that they can sell you stuff you don’t need, convincing you that if you don’t buy it, you’ll be missing out (or worse — that you’re somehow less of a person). Sound like that aggressive boy at the party?

    Despite the marketing-speak all over their blog, Facebook is not there to help people “share what’s important to them,” to “put people at the center of the web,” to provide “more social and personalized experiences on other websites” as we “build the social web” together. No. We are a commodity — nothing more. Our information is a commodity. We are dollar signs. It’s that simple. And I went into our relationship knowing as much; I was willing to be that dollar sign as a trade-off for using the free service. But now, especially with their latest “social plugins” move that will enable them to essentially track our every move on the Web, it’s just too creepy for me.

  5. And This Stuff Just Makes Me Mad: You’re telling me that a company like Facebook comes along and in a matter of just a few years, integrates 500 million users from all over the globe, linking them up based on likes and dislikes and fan pages and status updates and mutual friends, partnering with other services like Twitter, WordPress, FourSquare, ShareThis, Goodreads, major news and entertainment sites, and consumer sites, generating targeted ads and “like” suggestions based on each individual profile, helping to build this so-called wonderful social web where I can instantaneously notify thousands of “friends” that I “like” Lady Gaga or Pringles Sour Cream Chips, but the health care system in this country can’t come together on standards for personal electronic health records that would reduce medical errors and deaths and save billions of dollars? You’re telling me that with all this miraculous technology, airlines are still overbooking flights and assigning two people the same seat? Do you think this is accidental? Give me a break.
  6. Time: This last reason isn’t Facebook. It’s me. I need more time to go outside. To exercise. To write. To have real actual conversations and relationships. Hey, I just want those hours (and the privacy) of my life back, okay?

So that’s it, Facebook. We are over.

For all of my friends on Facebook, over the next week or so, you’ll see me transitioning off my personal page. I’ll still post book updates on the book fan page if I can figure out a way to do it without using the personal page (otherwise, that one is going, too!).

Like Sara Zarr said, don’t take it personal. I’m not shunning you. I’m not even going offline — you’ll still find me here, on Twitter, YouTube, Goodreads, other random places — I’m just keeping myself (and my pants) away from Facebook.


Knives, Mascara, & Other Dangerous Things

November 19, 2009

I hate shopping. I hate shopping for other people and even worse, I hate shopping for myself. Working from home cuts down dramatically on my required trips to to the mall (how many pairs of work pajamas does a girl really need?), but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

Like now. I’m attending the NCTE Conference in Philadelphia this weekend, and I need, among other things, a dress and shoes for a dinner event. No big deal, right? It’s just a dress and shoes. I figured I could probably get them both in one store, along with all of the extras required for wearing a dress and looking respectable in public. But in typical Sarah fashion, despite having planned this trip months ago, I waited until just a few days before my flight to freak out about it. Seriously. I even considered buying a dress in the airport on the way there.

Relax, I’m a professional procrastinator. Unfortunately, as a pro procrastinator, I create my own punishment. In this case, my punishment took the form of…

*insert ominous music*

…going to the mall.

Tuesday, Pet Monster and I got up early (that should’ve been the first clue that something was amiss) to plan a trip to our local mega mall. He needed headphones (so he could tune me out when I go off on one of my frequent, self-induced writerly breakdowns) and I needed that dress, so we put on our bravest faces and headed out. Headphones. Dress. Shoes. Check. How hard could it be?

*insert ominous music*

Wait. Did I say ominous music? Because I really meant Christmas music. Set off with big giant red velvet bows and twinkling lights dripping from the highest rafters, reflected in the gleaming polished floors, shining in the eyes of all the dedicated retailers who plaster on those eager sell-it-to-me smiles. One guy even tried to buff my nails, right in front of Pet Monster! It’s the Christmas season, after all! Time to show your loved ones just how much you care by putting yourself in debt! Boy, if the Three Wise Men had credit cards, baby Jesus might’ve scored an X-Box 360 and an iTunes gift card instead of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Back to the dress-finding mission. After only one side trip to play with the Santa-hatted dinosaurs at the toy store, Pet Monster and I managed to load ourselves up with bags. But between the music, the decorations, the unnatural shine on everything in sight, the eerie emptiness of a recession-era mall, and the apparent “cologne machine” blowing a constant plume of man-scent from the Abercrombie & Fitch store, we were pretty overwhelmed. We ducked into the welcome darkness of The Cheesecake Factory for an early lunch, then ducked even further into the darkness to catch 2012 in the theater, where we watched stuff blow up and tried not to think about the parallels between the end of the world and shopping at the mall.

Later, from the quiet safety of home, I deprogrammed my brain of the subliminal Christmas messages and examined our purchases. I got a keyboard and laptop riser to make my Mac more ergonomic, mascara, an eyebrow pencil, lip gloss (but that was a birthday gift from Sephora), a new tea kettle (the old one rusted), several large kitchen knives, some silicone utensils, Alex’s headphones, and a computer mouse for his system. I also had some leftover white chocolate macadamia nut cheesecake. Score!

But… should I be concerned that my new mascara came with an instruction manual longer than the manuals that came with any of the electronics stuff? Is it a good idea to put something near your eyes that requires 2 pages of descriptions and diagrams, half of which are in French? Probably not. But I’m getting my money’s worth. Even if my blog posts start coming out blurry or en français, at least I’ll have great lashes!

*blinkblinkblink*

I also have great kitchen knives that will hopefully not slice my finger like the old one did the other day, just as I was cutting a bagel and saying to myself that holding it that way was a sure recipe for disaster. I never listen to myself.

Mascara. Knives. Tea kettle. Cheesecake. But, um, dress? Shoes? Related accessories? Fail, fail, fail!

What did I say? Procrastination breeds punishment. The original dress-finding mission is still a priority (albeit a severely sidetracked one), so now I have to brave the retail sphere again tomorrow. Fortunately for all involved, it’s opening day for New Moon, so when trying on clothes starts to weaken my spirit, I’ll just duck back into the theater and get on Edward–er, I mean, get my Edward on.

*blinkblinkblink*

Hey. If you see me at NCTE this weekend, and I’m wearing an actual dress rather than something fashioned out of a keyboard and a few shopping bags from Sephora and the Apple store, make sure you tell me how much you love it and how that new mascara makes my eyes just “pop!” Yes, use the word “pop,” just like they did at Sephora to get me to buy it. Pop is key. Then, this retail insanity will not have been in vain.

Until then, au revoir, mes amis!


Josh Berk Contracts H1N1; Wife & Jewish Community Concerned, Baffled

November 13, 2009

With paranoia-over-swine-flu-related deaths at an all-time high, the question on everyone’s lips this evening is this:

Is it kosher to make out with pigs?

Josh Berk, author of THE DARK DAYS OF HAMBURGER HALPIN (Feb 2010) and honorary Pig Frencher in Residence, investigates.


I’m a Danger to Myself and Others

August 10, 2009

6 Reasons I Need to Be Grounded

6. I’ve missed 2 fLiP iT fRiDaYs in a row. 1 for being on an all-day Amtrak ride from NYC to Buffalo. And 1 because I don’t remember why — I only remember the aching guilt. Guilt guilt guilt. Grounded!

5. I haven’t updated this blog in, like, forever. Lazy. Busy. Grounded!

4. I keep staying up way past my bedtime. So far past, in fact, that I’m now sleeping in the future, waiting for everyone else to catch up. Exhausted. Cranky. Grounded.

3. I was visiting my parents tonight and my Dad asked if there was anything sweet in the house, and Mom and I said no, which was a total lie considering the box of Dolci Bakery’s chocolate covered macaroons hidden beside me. And by macaroons I really mean macaroon — just the one — because I ate all the others. I was entering a Great Moral Dilemma (silently amongst myself) about whether to confess and pass over the last one, but by then, Dad was already in the kitchen digging out some cookies Mom remembered were in the freezer. There were 4. Cookies, not freezers. He offered to defrost and share 2 with me, completely oblivious to the macaroon non-admission. I would have eaten them, too, but then Mom found some more sweets. OMG I’m a horrible daughter! Ga-rounded.

2. There’s this crazy lightening storm going on at my parents’ house, the likes of which I haven’t seen since this one night in Denver where it was so intense, the midnight sky looked like daylight and Alex and I debated sleeping in the car in the garage. So what do I do? Go outside with my parents and the dog and stand in the driveway to watch. Um, what does it mean when your nose hair suddenly tingles and your mouth tastes like copper? It means you are dumb. Grounded.

And the number 1 reason I need to be grounded…

1. When I picked up my Mac laptop tonight, there was a rattling inside. Not like a light, tappy, Smart Food White Cheddar Popcorn kernel-rattling, which would be somewhat unsurprising given my propensity toward the cheesy treat as writing brainfood, but like a something-is-definitely-effed-up-in-this-piece rattling. Frantic, I opened it and booted up, but everything looked okay — no cracked screen or missing keys or buttons, and all the sounds and icons came on. Still, each time I tipped the computer, something obviously loose and foreign clunked around inside. I watched a bunch of movies last night so I thought maybe it was a loose DVD or DVD drive component, but nothing would eject (and I was certain I’d already ejected the last movie earlier today). I closed it up again, tipped and gently shook and shook and tipped and shook, and finally, out popped…. a quarter. A quarter! WTF!?! Note to self: Mac laptop is not a piggy bank. Or a slot machine. I don’t even know how it got in there or where it came from. The DVD drive isn’t even an open slot. God, the whole thing was very grilled-cheese-in-the-VCR, you know? How did I not blow myself up? How do I function? Idiot on parade. Grounded!

Devoted readers (and those whom my mother pays to pretend), will someone please volunteer to banish me to a place — a place that’s heavily padded — before I actually hurt myself?