Dancing in the streets

I spent this week locked up in a room, talking to myself and recording demos. I started the week not sure what I was doing and finished the week quite pleased that the short demos matched the pictures in my head of what I wanted them to be.

I’m getting fairly expert at editing audio, which is completely new to me. Overall, I’m really pleased. It’s a fun thing to do.

We now have short videos showing X-Edit Contribute, X-Edit Review, and Analyzer on our website. A short recording about topic-based authoring will appear early next week. More will be added as the month goes on, so check the website often.

We also added a new area called Demos. Now you can easily go to the demos and see what you want without hunting about to find them. To find out more, go to http://www.madcapsoftware.com/demos/product.aspx. We also put the free webinars in the same area, to make it all easier to find.

New quarter, new ducklings, new topics

Additionally, this week started a new quarter. We were asked for this quarter and this quarter only to change the Engineering 180 course to better meet the specific needs of graduate students who are getting Masters and PhDs in Engineering.

Normally, we’re dealing with undergraduate engineering students who are going into the workforce when they graduate. We teach them about developing presentations, specifications, test plans and test cases, and so on.

Not this quarter.

This quarter we’re dealing with people who need to write technical articles on complex topics. So we’re changing the class to focus more on how to explain very technical information to other experts in article formats.

It’s going to be interesting. We have a general direction we want to take the class but we’re also making this up as we go.

After this quarter, a new class is being created called Engineering 181, especially for these graduate needs. We’ll teach it every Winter quarter. It’s quite an honor to be teaching at the graduate level.

Bonni is a little nervous because she has no advanced degrees. She’s sure my ABD (All But (PhD) Dissertation, a real academic term) status in Economic Anthropology gives me a better insight or something.

I point out that communication is communication, and my overeducated status has little to do with anything, except I know buckets of stuff no one cares much about. And I have student loans she doesn’t. That’s it.

Personal notes

Jan 10 (today) is my mother’s birthday. She would have been 75. She died of breast cancer in 1999, about a week after her birthday. (Yes, I get checked every year in June. Feel free to nag.)

My mother should have been a history scholar, lost in archives, looking for truth and nuance in Middle Age documents. Of Swedish farming stock, she came from a dirt poor family, left school at 17 to go to San Diego, worked in various banking jobs, sang professionally, and finally met my broadcaster father.

She did what women were supposed to do in the 1950s. I think, for her, these were the wrong things to do.

I grew up listening to my mother sing. And she could sing just like Patsy Cline, just an astonishing voice. Even today, I can’t listen to Patsy without hearing my mother as a second sound track in my head. Sometimes, when I miss her, I play Patsy Cline just to hear the second sound track.

Losing your mother is strange, even when you’re an adult. I’ve spent a decade thinking about it, trying to decide how to describe it, hoping to write about it one day.

After all that thought, I can’t tell you why losing your mother is so hard, I can only tell you it is. It’s different than losing your father, your boyfriend, your best friend, your brother, your aunts and uncles. All of which I’ve lost.

Your mother. It’s different.

My mother was a self-contained person, never given to emotional displays. You had to know her to know what was going on; watching her hands and body language told you what was internal. So, while your mother is your first cheerleader, mine wasn’t given to demonstrations, there were no pom poms nor acrobatics.

Her sisters told me when she was proud of me and it always surprised me that she was. I had no idea. It certainly wasn’t something you would ever ask her about.

The only time I ever saw her emotional was when my father was terminally ill. He was at home and she called, telling me she thought he wasn’t breathing and what should she do? Call 911 and sit tight, I said. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.

More upsetting than my father potentially not breathing was my mother at a total loss. I’d never seen that before, couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t know something so basic as calling 911. But of course, she wasn’t asking about my father at all.

I get my impatience with self-indulgent emotions from her. Even, and perhaps especially, my own. Some things are just what they are and moaning and whining about them helps not at all, it changes nothing and wastes energy. And since, at some level, that may be what I’m doing now, I’ll stop.

But you should call your mom.

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