Saturday, March 6, 2010

From: >Yo, what are you lot doing with my money? Put the people who do the work, do it well, back on air. Stop wasting my tax dollars on interviewing new people. I've cleaned up the language for this text. I'm from Detroit and would love to tell you all what I really think but who would that serve? Give Nancy back her job. Il n'as pas logic. And you owe people an explanation of what went wrong. This is not kosher. I'm not buying the ratings story.

I list many CBC radio programs on my blog and face book page that spark creative thinking and writing. Spark; The Next Chapter; Writer's and Co; Ideas; The Current; and Gian Gomeshis' program. I need my news hour. Climb out of your limited thinking, leave the box behind. Rethink this decision.

Peace, Trudy Kerman

CEO Freelancer's Ink

Friday, March 5, 2010

Oscar bunk

I'm ready for my close up Mr. DeMill. Why all the hype? I don't get it. Why would I sacrifice 3 hours of my life I will never get back, in front of my TV, watching people weep and blather and run off to a drunken Bacchanal which I'm not invited to. Nobody sending me a limo, or lending me finery or giving me free swag, which is another word for expensive junk that 99.9% of the world's population is doing without, some just fine. Isn't it enough I'm shelling out $10. of my blood sweat and tears, earned income to keep these guys in designer duds and luxury homes? Truth be told I was one of the slaves of Oscar night back in the day when my friend and movie buff, Marlene, lived a couple of doors down. She'd brew a pot of coffee and we'd smoke cigarettes and sup java, commenting on the speeches; clothes movies good and bad we've seen. That was fun. My favorite Oscar show when Ben Aflick and Mat Damon won for best original screenplay. Writers everywhere rose up and cheered from their couches. Plus they took their mom's to the after parties. Love them then still an fan now. But since Marlene's decamped for Toronto, and we've moved to a bungalow, I don't have time to watch. Unless there's laundry to fold. Now my son, on the other hand will be glued to the set. He's an actor and someday, perhaps maybe there, in the audiance holding his breath while the ballot is being read. I hope I'm in the seat next to him. I'll even buy my own dress.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Slogging through blogging

This is not easy. Go to the help pages and then to Blogger buzz. Look at the signitures. Google blogging is for software engineers. I say that because a lot of the people posting the anseres in the help section are html experts. And the Bogger buzz reminds me of the neighborhood coffee joint where the tech heads, unwashed artists or other specialty groups of people hung out to speak in code amongst themselves, sounding like another language altogether to the average passer- by. I thought blogging was suppose to be easy, fun and inclusive. Blogging is suppose to be the conduit by which I enter the information highway. I feel like I'm driving around in circles, doubling back trying to find the entry to get on.
Being a visual gal, I wanted an electronic spot that I looked forward to seeing every monring or evening as There are so many problems writing in this little box that are not addressed. For example, I have the font color but not the font. And spell check nicely highlights my misspelled words in yellow. I reach for my handy Collins gem mini dictonary and look up engineer. Publishers take head, at this speed paper backs are going no where.
What is that serenity prayer? something about accepting what I can't change? Note to self, don't blog when the full moon is on the wax or on the wane....Owooo

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So you think you want to write? well, why not. Take the first step. Put one word on a page. Leave it. Come back. Look. Then, just for fun, write.

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