GLITCHING TO WRITE

Ah, yes. There will be days like this.

For so many reasons, the writing process is filled with ups and downs. Flashes of inspiration followed by bouts of blandness. Crests of confidence flattened by form rejection letters. Moments when my schnauzers pretend to listen as I hash out a plotline, then days of doggy indifference. The highs and lows are inherent in the life of a writer. How many of us have checked bipolar symptoms online—professional hazard or psychological concern?

Yesterday was an amazing day of writing. Everything clicked. In fact, I was riding a three-day streak and feeling mighty fine. It was just the boost I needed after letting the Olympics and the Oscars sidetrack my productivity.

And then technology came along and slimed me. First thing this morning, I turned on my laptop, did what was supposed to be a quick email check and then after reading one email, “Problem Loading Page” flashed atop the screen. Refresh. Same message. Refresh, refresh, refresh. (Hope does spring eternal.)

I restarted the computer. No change. This forced me to dig out the new modem my cable provider sent me months ago. I’d tried to hook it up on a Saturday in December, but when I called the Support number, as instructed, to complete the change the technician half laughed and said there was a problem. Call back in a few days.

The fool! Didn’t he know whom he was talking to? Technology only gets one chance with me. I do have a low threshold for pain, you know. (I’m a redhead and medical research proves I’m not just being a wuss.)

I had no choice but to call the number again. I went through the annoyingly long automated sequence, pressing 3s and 4s only to wait for more options, more numbers to choose. Upon First Contact with a human, I broke out in a sweat. The guy started giving me instructions about cables and routers and electrical outlets over the phone. Another fool! Again, didn’t he know whom he was talking to? He must have been on his coffee (or medicinal marijuana) break because he gave each direction only one time and then contentedly waited in silence, possibly looking at butterfly decals, as I fumbled around with cords and black boxes for minutes on end. I don’t know why I felt I needed to rush. The guy—oh, let’s call him Darryl after my favorite “Newhart” characters—could have held the line all day. He knew a good gig when he had one.

An hour later, I had service restored. Of course, by then, I was too frazzled to sit down and write. I treated myself to a heaping batch of blueberry pancakes and mindless Internet surfing which led to exciting nuggets of information, such as: (1) Betty White is hosting SNL in May; (2) Nikki Yanofsky’s CTV Olympic song “I Believe” is still number one in Canada (and nowhere else); and (3) head shots in hockey, while unanimously deemed penalty/discipline worthy by the NHL’s GMs, will continue without sanction at least for the rest of the season due to several procedural hurdles. (Yes, let’s be fair. I’m sure Marc Savard and the next unsuspecting player who sacrifices his health and career will thank you for it.)

Back on track again, I had a productive afternoon fine tuning a spec script for a television sitcom. It was finally ready to print and I was so excited I cleaned the kitchen as the printer hummed along. (I’m not sure how tomato sauce stains landed atop the refrigerator, but they’re gone now.)

And then another snag. I had purchased a copy of an aired script for the sitcom to ensure my formatting mirrored that of the show’s writers. No way was I going to get tossed in the recycling bin on a technicality! However, when I collected the pages from the printer, all of my customized line spacing and underlining were ignored, deemed incorrect, by the Celtx program’s typesetting mode. I tried again but Celtx had a mind of its own. I searched the forums and FAQs online to no avail. After feeling entirely deflated, I sent off a polite, yet desperate email, setting forth the problems I’d encountered.

The script, as printed, is passable. Yet I know it can look even better so I sit and wait. The package I’d hoped to send off at the post office must wait another day, week, perhaps longer.

I’m glitched out. I look forward to a writing upswing come tomorrow.

HOLD THE GOLD!

Oh, Canada.

With two golden opportunities coming up short, is there enough Valentine’s chocolate on the shelves to help us cope?

As the Olympics got underway, I kept my television on for most of Saturday. There is pride with these Olympics on Canadian soil and, although I cannot afford to see any of the events live, I feel a greater connection since I was living in Vancouver when we won the bid and I’m still only a ferry ride away. Still, I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable as I watched the coverage on CTV and Sportsnet. The hunger for gold this time around seems to have cast a shadow over the way the events are reported and the way viewers are being groomed. All of us are supposed to be on a quest for gold. I feel sorry for all Canadian athletes competing before the country gets that golden monkey of its back.

Am I really being too Canadian in thinking that a silver medal is worth celebrating? Should I slap myself for smiling as Canadian mogul competitor and medal contender Kristi Richards flashed a sportsmanlike grin after wiping out during her run and getting up to complete the course as best she could? The new Canadian mentality is supposed to be gold or nothing. Own the podium. Leave the please and thank yous to the beat poet. How dare Charles Hamelin fail to reach the short track final! And how can we embrace Jenn Heil and her “disappointing” silver?

Yes, it’s unfortunate that Canadian athletes have yet to win a gold medal during an Olympics at home. Every host nation wants to sing along to its anthem as the flag is raised during a medal ceremony. (For us, the longing may be heightened since we were stripped of the chance to sing along to Nikki Yanofsky’s version during the Opening Ceremonies. I wonder if shutting us out was a ploy to make us long even more for the podium moment.) But the hunger needn’t make us savages.

My all-time favorite Olympic memory came during the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary when perky Elizabeth Manley won the silver in figure skating and celebrated on the ice donning a cowboy hat as the audience gave her a thunderous ovation. I was living in Dallas at the time and my Canadian pride in sport has never been as great as during that shining silver moment. Would we view it differently today?

Watching Jenn Heil’s mogul run and hearing the crowd cheer created a wonderful Olympic moment. Moments, by nature however, are brief. American Hannah Kearney followed Heil down the course, faster and, yes, better. I’ll admit I briefly hoped for a little judging fudging, but then I came to my senses. Shouldn’t Canada’s longed for home-grown gold be earned outright? I empathized with Jenn Heil after the race as she stood looking stunned at the bottom of the hill while Kearney and ebullient American bronze medalist Shannon Bahrke hugged, hollered and draped American flags around themselves. Get Heil a Canadian flag! Stat! Or at least get her a hug. Initially, I thought the Americans were being obnoxious, but then I checked myself and acknowledged that the two medalists were celebrating as they had every right to. I understand that Heil was disappointed, going in as the favorite, but Kearney skied the run of her life and isn’t that what everyone aspires to during the Olympics?

As an elite athlete, Jenn Heil’s achievements have come in part due to her nature as a fierce competitor. The fact she was determined to win gold is admirable. I can’t fault her for feeling a letdown. What bothered me was CTV’s reaction. The network was more disappointed than the skier. This was supposed to be the Golden Moment, a televised nugget of Canadian history. The interviewer on the hill took on a somber tone while Heil, the shock having sunk in, was poised in thanking her coach/boyfriend and in saying she’d done her best. Subdued anchor Brian Williams took Heil’s perspective that she didn’t lost gold, but in fact won silver as a pep talk for himself.

I do hope the gold comes soon. Then, hockey notwithstanding, Canadians can go back to being the modest folks we are, seeing the glory in silver, bronze and personal bests that nonetheless fail to put our athletes on the podium. A medal haul would be welcome, but let’s remember to be good hosts and enjoy all of the competition.