Tuesday, October 20, 2009
As many of you know, I am applying for the Sam-E blogging position and the first round is based off votes. At the end of voting (which I believe is either at the end of this month or one week after that), the 20 people with the most votes will move on to the next round. Currently I think I am about 3-400 behind the bottom person of the top 20, but they already had a good amount of votes when I signed up, so I'm catching up to them for sure. The 'vote daily' has been both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you can vote daily! On the other hand, so can everyone else's supporters, and I can get a lot of people to vote for me, but the question is, can I get a lot of people to continue voting? It feels like everyday I'm starting fresh. For example, I might get 500 people to vote for me today, but then I need to re-convince them to vote for me tomorrow.
At the end of the day, I think I'm doing well and I can only continue to do well with you alls' help. The good news is that the next round is a combination of votes and editor's pick. ANNND it's a video comp, which should be fun. You get to see me act a fool on camera for a job and if that's not incentive to vote, I don't know what is.
Clicking this link will help cure world hunger.
Monday, October 19, 2009
I was in Washington, DC, walking home with one of my friends. I forget what we were out doing, but it was early in the morning. Anyway, we passed by a view of the capitol (which isn't hard to do, you can see see it from almost anywhere) and it was blown to shit! No, more accurately, it was stills standing but it looked like someone had put a big diagonal scar through it, similar to the Twin Towers before they fell.
We rushed home and, of course, it was all over the news. Apparently a terrorist had sent a scud missle all the way from over seas and hit the capitol overnight. They had videos of the impact and I remember that they kept showing it again and again and again (ok, so here's the trippy dream part, I just remembered: on the news report it said that when they found the terrorist he was being rescued by his 15-pound daughter...then later I thought maybe it was 15-pound cat...?).
I think that was about it. I remember asking if this means that they could sent a nuclear weapon over here and one of my knowledgeable friends said no for some reason that I believed. Nonetheless it's been a while since 9/11 (weird how the time has gone by and weird that there are a generation of people now how can talk and walk and think and do math problems who did not exist yet on that fateful day) and if people out there still hate America (which I'm sure they do), it's just a matter of time....
Saturday, October 17, 2009
I recently applied for and nabbed a blogging gig at Scribophile.com, a growing site about writing and literature where you can go to talk about your favorite books, your life as a writer, or to get peer feedback on your works. The site recently (to my understanding) had one main blogger and the owner (Alex) just hired two newbies, me being one of them of course. The great thing (besides getting a little piece of change for what I do anyway) is that the owner wants the posts to be informal, fun pieces and I'm definitely down for that. Also, I started a blog to start getting my name out there so that I can better sell myself when I finally do seek publication (time should be coming around soon, cross your fingers) and this allows me to tap in an already established (and still growing) audience.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Day 2 was all about driving. The open road. Putting the pedal to the medal. Getting from point A to B and whatever other phrases you can think of. I think Day 2 was when I drove the whole day. I opted to do it, and at first Johanna laughed at my request, but I figured I needed driving practice time in and I was starting to enjoy going 90 on those long stretches of nothing-road.
First I remember being in the bed and seeing ants crawling down the walls in waves. I remember when I would turn on the light (from the bed--how, I don't know), they'd kind of thin out, but when I turned the light back off, they just swarmed harder.
Then I thought I was getting up. This consisted of me thinking I was sliding my legs off the bed, slowly, and trying to push myself up. I felt like my body was very heavy and hard to move, which I thought was just a result of heavy sleep. I even remember checking my computer.
Then I was back in dreamworld just like that and for some reason I was driving to the edge of a dock and almost forgot to break and slid to a stop right before going over the edge.
It was weird how the dreams came so close to eachother. It was like treading water, only badly, and my head kept dipping beneath the surface. I wish I could remember that original dream. I also slept for a lot less time than it felt like.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
They met on Sunday’s wife.
A Saturday—she wore black,
A color of mourning, none other than that of the cat
Ran over in the street. She’d gone to try
To save its life. Time was against her, death to cut
The feline’s string. They met under the next sun.
They first kissed with the background of the setting sun
On the balcony of The Sailor’s Wife,
A restaurant with salmon so freshly cut.
And when the day turned in to black
His feelings for her, he had to try
To say. But in the end they just kissed. Tongues went to the cat
They first fought about the cat
That he bought for her to bring some sun
In to her life and try
To relieve her guilt from that day. His brother’s wife
Agreed to help. No black,
He said. Only white could make the cut.
A month later she slipped a cut
To her finger, startled by the playful cat.
So much blood, the sink went black
He rushed to her and held her wound up to the sun
As tender as if she were his wife.
That night she asked ‘will you love me.’ He said I’ll try.
Marriage wasn’t long after his try
But tries aren’t good enough, strings of anger cut
By any little thing done by his wife
His true love was just the cat
His eyes the darkest under the sun
So cold at noon, like coals of black
That June her first eye went black
That July she stopped tears to try
To be a good spouse for August’s sun
But September came and sanity was cut
And October’s Halloween found a hanged cat
By November she knew she was Chucky’s wife
Her body is all charred with black, for she chose to be his wife
In the end he had tried to try, to bury her out of love with the cat
But it was as if the sun boiled his brain, and like this he began to cut.