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The Washington Obligation

Falling Northwest

I took these at the Japanese Gardens while visiting Portland last fall. These tiny trees were a huge part of my incessant inclination to make my way up into the Pacific Northwest. For years I’ve wanted to photograph these Japanese Maples. Finally, I couldn’t take it any more so I made my way to them…

Running Out

Portland also educated me about a remarkable magic power that I never knew I possessed!  This is a Portland-specific-magic that disables me from locating—or even nearing—any destination I set out for while in Portland… not at the time when I was actually looking for it, at least. I’ve named this power the Washington Obligation.

If I wanted to get to the highway, I ended up in Washington.

If I wanted to get off the highway, I ended up in Washington.

If I wanted to get gas, I ended up in Washington.

If I wanted to go South, I had to start further North—in Washington.

Tiny Gardens

I ended up in Washington at least once, each and every time I attempted to go anywhere via car. The number of journeys that had a much higher percentage of unintentional Washington excursions than ONE, is pretty near perfect. The odds that I would spend at least an hour trying to find my way away from Washington were the best I’ve ever come across. I’d bet everything I owned against the event that I’d make a Washington-free excursion. There were no conditions that could disprove such inerrant odds, apparently.

Magic.

Strange Days

I had no choice but to conform to and gracefully embrace this new and ironic destiny. I was abnormally gifted in finding this destiny, at least. For some reason, it was absolutely necessary that I make an appearance in Washington before I could make any impact on the fates. Only after I had fulfilled the Washington Obligation was I able to persuade the gods of coincidental junctions to compel my misadventures in the direction of, well, anywhere besides Washington.

The fundamental element of this deviating destiny is that I be delivered to a location of exceptional interest. It is, however, essential to the existence of this particular element that these conditions are strictly met:

• The unconsciously manifested location which I was to be relayed to MUST never be that one which I had originally sought.

• The tangential terrain obtained MUST be in the complete opposite direction of the initial target site.

• The providential place of my quest MUST materialize and prevent my passing without any portent.

I claim magic… the other option to explain this is far too rational for my taste.

Tranquil Trees

Cheers!

The author is injured.

Please bear with me and my immobility.

That with which I write is currently out of operation.

Even oracle bones break though. Sometimes it’s the cracks that tell a better story. It just takes longer to type…

I’m a writer without a hand to write with, nor can I paint.

How Ironic.

Cheers

Wordle.net

Somehow, SOMEHOW, this fantastic online tool has escaped my attention until now—and I honestly can’t remember how I came across it since I became immediately mesmerized. I realize that this will definitely overtake the number one position on my list of great ways to waste the time I don’t have in actuality, but I’ve already rationalized it over to the list of things conducive to productivity.

For instance, though I spend eons of time re-coloring and changing fonts, the single second of inspiration that can be withdrawn from the disorder is (meaning I have convinced myself this is fact) worth all the wasted moments. Let me explain…

I write. At times. Sometimes—regularly—the thought is there, the idea is a good one, the words, the content, all there but I just can’t get started. The opening or closing—these are usually comparable to me—is floating around somewhere other than in my mind, same goes for the middle. Yes, I too, wonder how I ever produce anything useful at all.

If only I had a tool that could help me when I’m stumped… some kind of muse that would rearrange the words into phrases… something that could connect the important parts together… TaDa, Wordle!

I think that if you are a writer you’ll understand what I’m getting at. If you’re not, well, the damn thing is addicting anyway—it’s apparent that no point, really, needs to come from it. Just try it. Either type—copy-paste—a whole bunch of words in or enter a URL and Wordle will create a tangled mess of the words, which can then be tweaked—color, font, size, shape, order, direction—to your liking.

If it’s not a time-eraser for you like it instantly was for myself… congratulations, you obviously get much more done than I do.

Here is an example of what happens over in Wordle world. This is the art my words from my last post 160 Love Letters produces:

And one for this post:

Thank You, Jonathan Feinberg, for your creation. My procrastination will send you a medal when it gets around to it.

c’est tout

I think I found my new favorite…

Introduced to me by my first love Mashable. Who now owns this wonderful revelation Blippr. Congrats to both parties!

This addictive site is kind of a delicious combo of  Twitter (short & sweet—review character count = 160—clean & effective) + Mashable (info I give a flying ant about that actually makes my life easier with helpful hints from users ) + LibraryThing (books reviewed by readers, not reviewers, & ideas for new books to read you never knew about ) + Amazon (because lets face it, comparing computer applications and software, while bagging a pile of books relating to the 15 movies you purchased earlier because you downloaded the soundtracks and loved them, is just something they’ve got covered. And as always, the omnipresent Amazon is just a click away on Blippr, so no worries)

A quick and simple place to read a whole bunch of very short takes on why so many people don’t like the application that you love but they don’t have enough characters remaining to go into enough detail to wholly prove you wrong so you can still depart feeling lucky you came across such a helpful “time vacuum” tool and continue on your way rolling your eyes in pity at the “professionals.”

I obviously have trouble fitting the things floating in my head in those boxes that count down my keystrokes I have assumed, now, that these stubborn text boxes are really an omen and I must, at all costs, learn to trim my thoughts… no matter how much time it takes away from the necessities of life.

It is lacking that obnoxiously cute, irresistible bird that Twitter has let loose, though. Perhaps they could use a hippo or something…

I’m done.

Cheers!