Which would be annoying and expensive (at ten dollars a pop) but I can't do what they say because I have to attach the file, in the sense of uploading it to a site where there's no way to communicate that it's password protected and here's the password.
Not to mention the difficulties inherent in sending someone a file they can only open once. I mean! Jeez!
So I figure I need Acrobat, right? Maybe I can download and install that and then I can open the file and "save as" or something, if that's even possible. Given the ridiculous Bourne Identity lengths they're going to, I would suspect they have that angle covered.
Or maybe I can do some kind of low tech screen shot type thing! I might have to. And then stick all of those (my grad transcripts run to pages) into one file together.
What I should have done, I realize now, is order regular transcripts and SCAN them like a scanner having person. But who knew they would send me this encrypted destroy before reading Cold War spy games ludicrousness.
Of course now there's no time before the deadline. I'll order a set tomorrow if I can't make the download thing work. Or should I go to the library and use their computers?
I'm in OLD COMPUTER land now. It's becoming more of a problem all the time. The ipad is lovely and lovely but there are lots of things that just don't work in terms of compatibility. Anything where you have to fill in forms online. Anything Adobe related. Anything Word related. Grumph.
Though I did just hear today that Microsoft is coming out with Office for ipad. I'm sure it'll only cost an arm and a leg.
Tomorrow I'll have to do the simple math and see whether it's going to be better to go up to Fry's and get me one of those laptops. But I have to know what software it comes with.
The whole thing makes me want to crawl in bed and pull the quilt over my head, I tell you what.
Here's my logic today to justify all the stuff I did: what hurts this leg injury thing the most? Well, after a fencing lunge, I mean? SITTING. So I did not sit a whole lot. I did do eight million other things, though. Yay!
1. Wrapped and mailed birthday presents!
2. Swept and mopped the linoleum rooms! (Kitchen, bathroom, laundry room.)
3. Cut up all these chopped down blackberry canes that fired my wrath when one of them grabbed my leg when I was mowing the grass. Apparently I'm allergic or something because I got giant welts. And also OW. So I cut them up and filled up the green bin (which is enormous) doing it.
4. Applied for fabuous glorious Obamacare though the Oregon system seems to be kind of backward, so much so that they've allowed us another whole month to sign up. Gosh! That was another whole ridiculous software/outdatedness/OLD COMPUTER saga that finally meant I have to MAIL my application in. Or else I'll do that at the library too. Or just update my ancient and creaking systems, jeez.
5. All the laundry, continued from yesterday.
6. All the cooking! Bok choi with tomatoes! So good.
7. All the dishes again! Where are they coming from? Seriously.
8. All the composting, which of course is not remotely related to discovering a sweet potato that had gone over to the dark side. Oh no.
9. Washed the mirrors, or at least some of them. I sure seem to have a lot of mirrors, most obscured or inaccessible. I'm sure that means absolutely nothing, though! Nothing!
10. Worked more on the most excellent little baby sweater for my incipient great-niece or great-nephew, oh boy! It's called Welcome to the Flock and it's bright green with sheep going around the yoke. I'm on the boring (but so pretty) bright green part but it's going fast, very satisfying.
11. I don't know, scrubbed and cleaned and tidied and did all that stuff like changing the cat litter and putting things away that make everything so much better, but once they're done they become invisible. Housework! Yes, that. I'm continually surprised at how much of it there is now, but then again, now there's a HOUSE. House!
12. I feel strongly that I did a lot more. Oh! I finished that Persephone trilogy by someone whose name rhymes with Peg Rabbit. And oh my goodness, was it ever terrible. Terrible! I am sorry to say so because you know I love Peg Rabbit but it was bad news. Especially the third book. Sloppy, all over the place, big messy meaningless scenes, entire main characters totally dying to death where I did not care one tiny small bit. Nothing mattered. I did not care about any of those people even one bit by the end. AT ALL. And I can't even express how nothing hung together. Major plot points, dropped, or suddenly invented on the fly. Nobody acting in a way that made sense. Nobody keeping to what was true ten pages before--that's the part that drove me completely crazy and infuriated me. None of it has to make sense in the real world, but it should at minimum hang together in its own world. And the endless talking about things without getting anywhere or accomplishing anything storywise! Blah blah blah!
Well, it was infuriating. It was the book version of those blackberry bushes, firing my wrath, but I didn't cut the books up with my sharp sharp clippers. I wouldn't be so mad but Peg Rabbit is normally just amazing in the following ways:
a. Tight, clean plots
b. Fabulous dialog
c. Huge story tension
d. Characters you really care about and can sympathize with
Or, in this case, e: none of the above. Grrrrrr!
I've been reading lots of Dorothy Sayers over the past couple of days, four or five of hers between books one and two and book three of the Peg Rabbit series. And Dorothy Sayers isn't perfect, goodness knows. Just this morning I finished a book where everyone sort of gives the villain a gun and leaves him alone to do the "decent thing" now that he's been busted, i.e. kill himself. Cultural differences and all aside, that's just...horrible. Every kind of way.
But I sure do love her books. They stand up really well to rereading, which is odd considering they're mysteries. Ha, but I always forget both who did the deed and how they did it. Also why. Yes. Pretty much everything but the excellent juicy character scenes. I remember those perfectly, often word for word.
It's odd because I can't really articulate why I love the characters so much. This is an author who thinks it's hugely funny to write a guy with a lisp, in one book. Yes. Like, that's the joke. Got a lisp! Ha ha! She can be really vicious sometimes, too. But the writing is brilliant, the characters are always fantastic, and the main character is amazing. It's like if Justin Timberlake, without stopping any of his usual activities, solved crimes by being incredibly intelligent and observant. Sherlock without the Asperger's or being mean to John.
I bet Justin Timberlake is a pretty intelligent guy, come to think of it. I would guess his interpersonal observational skills are off the chart. I don't think you get where he is without being seriously gifted in that way.
Why are we talking about Justin Timberlake? Right! Character! People you would watch read the phone book. What a good idea to write books about people like that!
No, seriously. Really interesting people. Actually I was talking with B yesterday about someone I didn't hit it off with years ago, trying to explain how weird and uncomfortable it was and how much I disliked the person even though I'd have expected to have a real meeting of the minds. I always really wonder what makes you like or dislike another person. The person might be amazing *on paper* but then in reality something is very off-putting.
Or it could be like that self-absorbed guy giving that thank you speech. Where I could not stand the guy, but my friends liked him, so I was really trying to be fair and like the guy, and I was doing okay right up until he talked me out of it by taking credit for every good thing that happened to him. Gross! Okay, maybe that's how things happened (but also, no, because everyone depends on a million others to get anything done) but it's really unappealing to see someone who should just say "Thank you! And here's who I want to thank" say "Thank you, I did it myself because I am awesome, and here's my method of awesomeness that I used to get here." Gross.
This is making me realize a lot of things about how to write interesting characters. Let's make a list! Never too many lists!
1. They care about someone outside themselves, and I mean, they care about what happens to that person, not just smittenness.
2. They observe and react to other people. You couldn't forget to do this in a visual medium but I see it all the time in books.
3. They have flaws that you can understand.
4. Bad things happen to them. Really bad things. Things go very wrong. Sometimes those things come from within the person, which is even better.
5. Oh, they learn things and change and react differently at the end of the book than at the beginning. At least, I write YA so that's absolutely true for people I'm writing.
I just read somewhere that to change tragedy to comedy, everyone just needs to sit down. Is that true? Surely not. But I can imagine people having a big dramatic scene and then sitting down on a plump flowered couch and being utterly unable to sustain their drama.
Why, why do so many writers depend so much upon the location of the bottom? Leave your bottom out of this! Stop writing songs that include references to "here I sit," especially. I do not think the position of your bottom in relation to furniture is relevant to this or any other discussion. Unless the discussion is, "Hey, have you seen my glasses/wet painting/fragile sculpture/cactus/trained slug circus/plate of canapes? I left it on the...couch. Right where you're sitting. No, no, don't get up."
At this juncture I'm forced to recall that I began this whole block of blather with commentary on how much not-sitting I've been doing today. Oh the humanity! Point taken! Point made. How did you do that? How did you make a point when you haven't even read this yet, I wonder? You! Are! Amazing! Well done, you!