2 Apps, 1 Rejection, and a Likely Pirate
I’ve been very (not really) productive today.
I’ve finished applications for Univ. of Mississippi and UNCW, meaning I am 50% done all grad school apps. I sent a reminder to the one person who is late on an recommendation form. I set up a tumblr account, which is just for fun right now, but might eventually replace this blog, because I dig the mixed media abilities of it. Will have to talk to my web guru about the difficulty of switching over, largely due the archived posts right now. I’m not sure if he’ll even answer, still no word on wtf is going on with the log titles. the cool thing is I already have these posts being routed to appear there, so if you have one you can add me to follow.
I finally got the first rejection letter back on a story I’ve been trying to get published. It’s from my most recent push of only 5 submissions, but it’s nice to see that it getting around. No paychecks for short stories (usually) only a stack of of no thank yous. I think of rejection letters like Dan Savage’s advice on dating. He always says no relationship will ever work out . . . until one does.
I outlined a paper and seriously considered another paper.
My sister ditched for some sports stuff on the tv.
And I’ve been emailing back and forth with this musician, who I’m sure I’ve freaked out about on here, Jason Webley He’s kind of gypsy, folk, punk-rock, indie, yeah. He might be a pirate. I can’t tell. I had mentioned when signing up for his newsletter he should play in Philly, and he’s trying to see if he can book a gig in January, so he emailed me about locations. I’ll let you know if he gets one. You’ll be forced to attend. I’ll also let you know if he turns out to be a pirate.
Might be trying getting ready to date again. Don’t have the time but I almost signed another free dating site because I loved their marketing so much. It’s winter, and I have certain needs, and since I’m not in the city, I’m limited in my options.
I’d really like to find a fun girl to hang out with, but that seems more difficult because of my inability to choose a sexuality. It bothers a lot of them. Oddly enough it doesn’t bother me that they feel the need to choose a sexuality, so I’m not entirely sure why they can’t be as open minded as myself.
Oh well.
Still med free. But that’ll be coming to a close in the coming months probably. The depression has lifted, my moods are swinging up, and the holidays are coming. Manic tricia at Christmas? Yeah, it’s not going to be cute.
Obviously I’m still not ready or I’d be back on them.
Dispatches from Bed
Ugh. So I’ve been meaning to spend my sick day blogging, but I just didn’t have any energy until a few seconds ago. I’ve got some southern apples cooking in the microwave and will probably head to bed by nine.
I eat like crap when I’ve got a bad head cold. So much of our sense of taste is made up by our sense of smell, it seems pointless to try to eat good wholesome things that represent only texture. Instead I try to stick to extremely salty, spicy, and or sweet. Things the tongue can recognize on it’s own.
Potato Chips with soup for lunch. Stewed apples for dinner. Enough cold medicine to bring down a horse in between.
It’s been a long time since I felt this crappy all at once. It seems like an onslaught of every possible symptom is attacking me. I’ve canceled all weekend plans and so far only managed to get a shower today.
School’s picking up in intensity, which is good in a way. I need the distraction from people. I find the odd desire to isolate growing stronger, which is odd, because both my therapist and myself have noticed a manic swing in the near future.
Not a full one, too soon since the last I think. But still I could use the energy right about now.
Oh I feel horrid and gross.
Brain dead from medicine and horse from coughing, and nauseous from an unholy quantity of medicinal herb teas. Thank god I have no sense of taste, or I can only imagine what that would be like.
I’ve never understood that when I’m sick the one thing everyone tells you to avoid, is the thing I crave the most. Grilled Cheeses with tomato and chocolate milkshakes.
Thanks to being infirmed I will have likely finished the second book in the twilight series. This is not a recommendation, this is a admittance to guilt. Do Not Read Them. They are awful and sophomoric and horribly written.
But my little sister loves them and I wanted to see what the fascination was. After I finish this one I’ll impose a ban until I’ve at least made progress in my homework situation.
Holidays are right around the corner. You know what that means, more blog about how much I hate people. And how fucked up and wrong my family is. Wew!
Wish I has someone to take care of me right now. Truth be told, I don’t think I even let someone see me in this foul state, but it’d be nice to have the option.
When I make my first million I’m getting a live-in-friend.
Session 2
Belated Victory Lap
“And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces, to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of the world, our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand.”
I cried when I read the Obama’s victory speech. I’m not going to lie.
I’m moved by the sentiments and the realities of it.
I didn’t wake up yesterday or today with a better life, but I woke up feeling a few things:
1) That I am not alone in this country, and that I am American.
2) That my voice was heard. That the better angels finally shouted down the demons of the past 8 years.
All that up there was written days ago. Before another midterm, bastards at work, the wear and tear on my soul.
I had wanted to write something about suffrage and the responsibility our grandmother and their mothers gave us. About the pride I feel when I consider the privledge offered people to vote.
I wanted to write about casting my ballot for my sex life, private parts, and right to overthrow a tyrannical goverment.
But mostly I just wanted to say thank you. It’s been 8 years and there is finally a light at the end of the tunnel.
God willing it’s not another train.
And The World Spins Madly On
I love being in my bathrobe in a way that verges on disturbing. I’d rather be in a bathrobe than any other form of clothing. I don’t understand it at all, but accept it as part of my truer self.
Or some such shit.
Spent the day reading and writing. Wrote a short story for class with an all right ending, but endings for me are part of the revision process, not the initial write. As I delve deeper into what it is I’m writing about I find the emotional chord to hit.
It’s funny what’s happening to me as a writer though. On several occasions I’ve gone back to review a piece that I’m working on only to discover that 90% of the piece doesn’t exist in it, only in my head. The back story, the outfits, the careers and foibles of the characters, all exist to me, but aren’t relevant to the story itself. It’s a good thing to know more than you tell, it colors them, but ti’s something I never really expected would evolve independently of effort.
I finished 97% of my UBC application, was foiled by either my computer, cookies, or the web site. If it isn’t working by Wednesday I’ll get Dave’s help.
Don’t care, still relieved. It means I only need to do a personal statement before I can start sending out other applications. I’m going to do one a week. for the next month and a half. UBC had the earliest deadline, so that’s why it was so crucial to finish. Brooklyn has the most massive manuscript, so that’ll be last. I’m hopeful to have one more piece to add to it y December, something from my class this semester, likely.
Trying to think of something nice to do for everyone who edited work for me, especially if I actually get accepted anywhere. It’ll be odd, because the three people who gave me the most help will likely all be having dinner together with me in Baltimore in January, so maybe I can figure out something by then.
I need to do a real quick edit of the piece from this morning, but I tried to put as much time between writing and editing as I can. difficult when you try to pull off a one day story.
Sorry about angry Phillies rant. Feeling better. I think I’m on edge with Tuesday looming so close and yet still so far away. I’ve had to triage calls from both my sister and my mother about polling number they didn’t like today. I swear to god I hate the polls. I don’t think they should be released to the public.
Figured out how to make ringtones from songs I like. So cool. A little time consuming for everyone, so mostly they are just for people that call me, which is a very very small number. It’s a shame you can’t do something for individuals who text only. That’d be pointless but neat.
Spent Friday arguing with a cute guy about politics. It was seriously hours we were yelling at each other. He is an old-school republican, and all I could think is that I need to stop being attracted to the same guy over and over again. I seriously need to stay single and in therapy until I stop trying to date my ex in every guy I meet.
At least I’ve finally admitted there is a problem. And single I can do. I’m ridiculously good at single.
Okay it’s only quarter of six, which rocks. I’m off Wednesday, and I’ll probably blog on Tuesday but if not it should definitely be Wednesday.
Just typing that my heart started racing and my stomach clenched up. I’m too sensitive for this shit.
If I don’t talk to you before then:
Good Luck
Please Vote
and Gods willing we’ll wake up Wednesday gripped by hope.
edited to add:
Everything that I’m reading says if it’s going to get bad for us Tuesday it will be because of Pennsylvania. Seriously, like 98% of the people reading this right now live in Pennsylvania. Please, please, please vote. Pretty please? I’ll buy you a puppy*.
*Full Working Puppy only comes with proof of Democratic voting. Republican voting only gets you puppy “accessories”. Flaming puppy accessories on your doorstep.