30 years ago today (26 February), my Oma passed away from intestinal cancer, 1 month shy of her 66th birthday and about 1 month after the diagnosis. I was nearly 13 when she passed away, just shy of that age where you start appreciating the stories and history your parents and grandparents share with you, if you’re interested in family history and that sort of thing.
A few months ago, one of my cousins asked me what Oma was like, and one thing that struck me recently was that out of all my cousins on my Dad’s side of the family, probably only my brother Brian and I remember or knew Oma the best. Read Remembering Oma 30 Years After Her Passing
I know I kinda touched on this particular critiquing issue the other day in a Facebook post, but I’d like to take the opportunity to expand on it a bit.
For those of you not in the know, I belong to a writing critiquing site called Scribophile. (For all you writers out there, I can’t recommend this site highly enough.)
In the 6 months or so I’ve been involved on Scribophile, I honestly have never had too many problems with the other writers on the site. For the most part, they have been lovely, supportive people, some of who have challenged the way I look at my stories. It honestly has been a real asset in improving my writing. Read If You’re on a Critiquing Site, Expect Critiques
So, there’s been a lot going on in my life lately, and I’ve not been able to blog as much as I’d like. Sorry about that.
One cool thing I ended up doing last week was I took that blogger’s advice that dissociative people should undertake something they love and work with it. Okay, I haven’t been writing as much as I would like to write lately, but searching on Google, I found an online writers’ group called Scribophile, which features writers who want critiques from other writers about their works.
I’ll talk about that more in another post, but it’s refreshed my drive to write again.
I speak with my Mom every week to every two weeks. Living on opposite sides of the world is hard, but it’s a little bit easier with the invention of Skype and FaceTime, WhatsApp and Apple Messenger, Instagram and Facebook. Communication is so much easier now than it was when I first moved to New Zealand 20 years ago.
Anyway. My Mom has been talking about getting a tattoo. We’ve had this discussion a few times over the last few years: what type of tattoo would she get; where she would get it on her body; how big it would be; and so on. It was something on her bucket list of things she wanted to do. And, of course, I love her, so anything she wants to do, I support 100%.
I am still out of love with Star Trek. I still am angry and sad about their draconian fan film guidelines, among other things. Their approach towards the fans is as if we can be pushed around, not consulted, and we’ll continue to throw money hand over fist at Star Trek with any product (good or bad) they put out there. And I have a choice on what I do with my money, and by not spending it with CBS or Paramount, whether by not subscribing to CBS All Access to watch the new Star Trek show in 2017 or by not snuggling up to a huge tub of popcorn and watching Star Trek Beyond in the movie theatre, I’m objecting with my wallet.
As a child, I remember my parents introducing me to Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Bones, and the Enterprise, these complex characters and graceful-looking starship soaring from planet to planet. I think some of the weekly aliens scared me, especially when they flashed them up at the end of the credits. (Balok, anyone?)
I didn’t understand the cerebral and more thought-provoking parts of the episodes because, as a child, you usually don’t have those parts of your brain developed until you start hitting adulthood. So it was good to watch as something fun as a kid.
It was one of my introductions to science fiction, and one I will always be grateful to my parents for introducing me to it.