So I am at the airport, waiting for the flight that will connect to another flight that will take me home to Brooklyn, and I am wiped out. But in a good way. It was an amazing conference, I am all thrilled again about writing, and what my agent (!) is working on with me, and I got to see some great friends, not to mention some lovely clothes (and some egregious items, but that will wait until I am in a less charitable mood).

More later, and I did take pictures, but those will be later, too.

Yay!

And, no surprise, he looked completely underwhelmed by seeing me. Just once I would’ve loved to see some guy’s jaw drop at the sight of me. The best thing I’d ever gotten was a look that clearly said, ‘huh, she’s not nearly as plain as so-and-so said.’ Hooray for me.

“Caitlin Murphy.” He uttered it as if it were a pronouncement, which I guessed it was, sort of.

“How do you–that is, who are you?” I sputtered.

He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. Usually men only did that after spending a few hours in my company, but perhaps he was a fast learner.

So as you all know, yesterday was Mother’s Day. (more…)

From LiveScience.com:

The brains of shy or introverted individuals might actually process the world differently than their more extroverted counterparts, a new study suggests.

About 20 percent of people are born with a personality trait called sensory perception sensitivity (SPS) that can manifest itself as the tendency to be inhibited, or even neuroticism. The trait can be seen in some children who are “slow to warm up” in a situation but eventually join in, need little punishment, cry easily, ask unusual questions or have especially deep thoughts, the study researchers say.

The new results show that these highly sensitive individuals also pay more attention to detail, and have more activity in certain regions of their brains when trying to process visual information than those who are not classified as highly sensitive.

Individuals with this highly sensitive trait prefer to take longer to make decisions, are more conscientious, need more time to themselves in order to reflect, and are more easily bored with small talk, research suggests.

Previous work has also shown that compared with others those with a highly sensitive temperament are more bothered by noise and crowds, more affected by caffeine, and more easily startled. That is, the trait seems to confer sensitivity all around.

The researchers in the current study propose the simple sensory sensitivity to noise, pain, or caffeine is a side effect of an inborn preference to pay more attention to experiences.

They first used an established questionnaire to separate the sensitive from the non-sensitive participants. Then, the 16 participants compared a photograph of a visual scene with a preceding scene, indicating whether or not the scene had changed. Scenes differed in whether the changes were obvious or subtle, and in how quickly they were presented. Meanwhile, the researchers scanned each participant’s brain with functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI).

Sensitive persons looked at the scenes with subtle differences for a longer time than did non-sensitive persons, and showed significantly greater activation in brain areas involved in associating visual input with other input to the brain and with visual attention. These brain areas are not simply used for vision itself, but for a deeper processing of input.

Biologists are beginning to agree that within one species there can be two equally successful “personalities.” The sensitive type, always a minority, chooses to observe longer before acting, as if doing their exploring with their brains rather than their limbs. The other type “boldly goes where no one has gone before,” the scientists say.

The sensitive individual’s strategy is not so advantageous when resources are plentiful or quick, aggressive action is required. But it comes in handy when danger is present, opportunities are similar and hard to choose between, or a clever approach is needed.

*A song by King Missile; never crazy about the band, but a catchy song.

We have another middle school thingy to do this weekend, and last weekend was chock-a-block full of socializing, so I am wiped out.

Plus I’ve had a headache all day, and that stinks. I did watch the Oscars, that was fun, moreso because I’d seen five out of the ten nominated films, I think a new record for me. But anyway,

I am continuing to write, albeit at a snail’s pace. Actually, I think snails might call me Pokey.

I am so parched for ideas I can’t even think of a title for this post.

Huh.

I am writing this week, because I can, and taking care of other things that need taking care of. Not meaning to be cryptic, but you don’t need to hear about my backed-up dishwasher.

So I am going to be doing what I should be doing, and try not to waste time. So here goes. And STILL no MI-5 in the house. I haz a WICKED sad.

–saw Inglourious Basterds. I liked it a lot, especially Christoph Waltz’s performance. He definitely deserves all those awards.

–am cleaning the basement. Ongoing drama.

–figuring out financial stuff that makes my head spin, but my life ultimately better.

–bought heeled shoes I can actually walk in. Yay!

–internet wonky today.

–synopsis getting tweaked. Massive outpouring of thanks to the Alpha Sparkle Dog, as well as the remembered utterances of the Faux Critique Partner. The latter is why I am going to commit to killing off a character; it just feels right, and she says to follow your unconscious. I am, unless my unconscious is going to Queens.

–making plans to see the Picky Vegetarian in Portland in the Spring. Triple yay-ness!

Okay. More later.

Okay, so I haven’t ranted, truly ranted, in a long time*. But here goes. As some of you know, I am on Twitter, which is a time-suck blast. And most of the folks I follow are fellow romance readers. All good so far. BUT–and this has ALWAYS bugged me–when the subject of a certain hero comes up (not a particular one, you’ll see where I’m going with this in a second), the ladies say to each other, “Hands off! He’s mine!”

Really? You are laying claim to a FICTIONAL CHARACTER and not wanting anyone to also appreciate him? Have you actually LISTENED to yourself?

Just as in, for example, if someone were to say, “No, Megan, you can’t have Clive ’cause I claimed him.” Really? Ah, no. No, we can all appreciate him, no jealousy allowed. He’s nearly a fictional hero, because he is a MARRIED(1), BRITISH(2) ACTOR(3).

So next time you go all Team Edward on my ass about some hero or actor, just remember: Inside my head I’m telling you to Shut The Eff Up.

Thanks.

Megan

*And I think I’ve ranted about this before. Hey, guess what, it still bugs me.

(1) Married means married. No poaching.
(2) I live in Brooklyn, not London or Hollywood.
(3) I work at home, and would never possibly be near a film set, unless by chance, and still very far away.

Hey! Click on over to the Riskies for today’s post. Sorry for the lo-fi, but I am on the iPhone.

I wish I had anything fascinating to relate, but I don’t. It’s been a normal time, with sun, decadent boardwalk food, books, games and eight hours of sleep a night (!). The iPhone is a treat, ’cause I can do all sorts of things without dial-up or the behemoth laptop. Yay.