FINALS WEEK!

A Frigid, Soggy Friday

So, how about this weather, eh? Well, those of us in the south, anyway, are experiencing the craziest winter in a while. It's currently 12 degrees Fahrenheit (I can never get that on the first try...yet another reason why we should switch to Celsius!) outside. It's been a long time since it's been this cold, and the wind chill factor is making it as low as -5 degrees outside. Now, I find this a tad bit unfair. All these years, when I was in school and praying to any deity in control of the weather that would listen, it would never snow. Or it would snow a smattering--enough to make the roofs and the grass white, but never touch to roads. This year, when I DO NOT want it to snow because my fiance is in the hospital in a town several miles on a curvy, woodsy road away, the weather threatens to snow every other frickin' day. This shows a cruel sense of humor on Nature's part. Surely she should realize that I've got important places to be--I already missed my check up on my pelvis thanks to this ridiculous weather.

On the other hand, this weather sort of cheers me up. I worry about global warming, and looking at the thermometer and seeing "12^F" is a nice little assurance that we're not quite as far along to Hell in our hand-basket as I thought.

On another note, I think that our family is cursed. I don't know if our house is on an Indian burial ground, if maybe we hit an old gypsy with our car, or maybe denied some crazy old lady an extension on her house payments, but somehow we have crossed some spirit we should not have crossed.

Just when things start settling down, I learn that my scholarship was revoked because I "didn't complete the number of hours necessary to keep it." Nevermind that I contacted everyone and told everyone important that I was in a wreck, could not return until the next semester, and contacted all of professors thusly. Thankfully, with a little persistence, I managed to get it back.

In addition to that, my brother came home to see water gushing from the house. Since our house hasn't been on anti-depressants in years, he figured it wasn't crying. Nope, turns out a pipe burst in the ceiling in one of our rooms. Hooray flooding! It flooded the kitchen as well as the laundry room. So we'll have to get that fixed tomorrow.

C'mon 2010, you gotta do better than this. Don't you want all of us to talk about how much better you are than that crappy 2009?

On a much brighter note (and the third edit so far) I am pretty much positive that I will transferring dorms. The cool thing is, this is less a dorm and more a private apartment. It has a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom, and is the bomb-diggity. It'll still have the luxury of a meal plan should I have no food in the house, but also have the advantage of being able to cook super healthy meals for myself whenever I want. I don't have everything squared away yet, but I'm very, very excited.

So how has your week been?

(By the way, how do you like the new template? I think a new year is always a nice time for some redecoration. I also have a new template for the main site as well, although I was looking for one a bit snazzier, but it's hard to find good free website templates. Oh, if only I had a web designer.)

Goodbye 2009!

Well, 2009 is drawing to a close. And I gotta say, this year, I'm glad to see it go. It's hard to classify this year. On the one hand, I want to say the year was a success. After all, I met the girl i want to spend the rest of my life with--something I never thought that I would do, but especially not so young. And yet, I have, and it's fantastic.

With that said, in the same year that I met my beloved, I almost lost her. Twice. I met her at the beginning of the year--one year ago today, as a matter of fact--and I almost lost her in April. A tornado hit and destroyed a good portion of my hometown. Several months later, I was in a horrific car crash that my girl and I are still recovering from.

So where does 2009 lie? Is it a draw? Or should it be packed up and shipped out with a "good riddance" to follow it out the door. These are questions I don't have the answer to.

So I talked about the bad things--a tornado, a car wreck, various drama's a college involving regime changes, major drama in the summer from my fiance's crazy family--now I need to talk about good things.

I met my beloved. We began flirting, and the first several months of dating-but-not was awesome. We talked on the phone for hours. It was amazing. We started dating, which was even more amazing. We had tons of fun over the summer, despite drama, and our relationship grew. We went to college, where things were nearly perfect. I was fortunate enough to come into a bit of money so that I could some things I've always wanted and a new car. I got engaged. I began planning the rest of my life with my girl. My fiance has made a dramatic recovery from the wreck. The doctor's said she's 3 months ahead of schedule. She's doing amazing, proving, once again, how awesome she is.

I think if there were a theme to 2009, the theme would be change. So much has changed this year. My brother is in his senior year, I got engaged, we both got new cars, friends moved across the country, others drifted away, some drift back and forth. I got a bit of money to start planning a life with. I walk with a cane. My town has been rebuilding itself. Hundreds lost their homes, and yet, I've heard some say that the tornado saved a drowning town--now many of the companies that had no work have work to do again.

Whether they're good or bad changes, they were changes nonetheless.

So, goodbye 2009. I really won't miss you that much. You gave me some tough love, and I'm not sure I've forgiven you for everything you've done. But you brought me some really good things, too. I extend a firm, curt handshake to you. Welcome 2010. I hope you bring twice the fortune, with none of the tragedy.

It Was a Very Black Friday

What I'm about to tell is bad. Very bad. But I'm not telling you this for sympathy. Of course, prayers and well wishes and such are appreciated, and in one place encouraged, but I just wanted you to know that I'm not posting this to further my pity party, but because I respect everyone that reads this blog, and I can't just ignore what happened despite my not wanting to have to think about it. The truth is, I've been avoiding posting this because I'm so very tired of retelling what happened, but I think it will cathartic to admit what happened to not just you guys, but to myself. To fully realize what I did, what the consequences are, and what I can do to get through this.

Let me take you back to Thanksgiving. Darling Dearest and I went to my family's annual Thanksgiving get-together, which is really more of a Christmas warm-up. Virtually the same food, but it's been a lot longer since we've seen each other all together. This is the one where all the latest news is revealed--big news doesn't really crop up much between November and December 25th.

Unfortunately, the evening didn't end well. We had plans on going out of town later in the evening to see one of our college friends and keep him company as he stood in line outside of Best Buy for a doorbuster. It was a computer, and he needed one--his crapped out--and we wanted to take advantage of the good deals anyway, so we decided we'd go. When the time came, the evening hadn't improved much, but we did the best we could to perk things up a bit, and then we left.

The line standing was uneventful, really, except that it was long--horrendously long, and in the freezing cold. The doors finally opened, and we were among the first 50 to get in, which means we had access the best deals the earliest. We grabbed a lot of movies--admittedly, most were for ourselves, but I was also there to get some late (for me, anyway) Christmas shopping done. Then, we checked out. We went and got breakfast, and then, at like 7 AM, we went home.

This next part is the part that's the hardest to write. Bear with me.

I was fine for an hour. Not bothered at all. Then, I started getting sleepy. That was when I started falling back on the thing that usually keeps me awake -- singing. I sing loudly (and more than likely out of key) when I'm in the car alone. Darling Dearest is one of the few to hear me sing totally unbridled like that. She loves it, and I'm flattered, even if for the life of me I don't know why she loves it, but I digress.

The second hour was much harder than the first, and even singing wasn't keeping me alert and awake. I started looking for a place to pull over. I wanted us to be save, and the towns between the city with the Best Buy and my hometown are very Deliverance-ish. So, I wanted to look for a place where we'd be out of the way, but safe from getting raped by hillbillies before we woke back up. This is the most horrific and ironic part -- I was looking for a safe place to pull over. Some place where we would be safe and I could catch a few Z's to recharge. I'm sure you know what happened next, but please, I'm trying not to jump the gun.

The last thing I remember thinking was, "I need to find a place to pull over before I fall asleep. I don't want to crash." The next thing I new, I heard the sound of the rumble strip and the sound of my car in the grass. I couldn't get the car to get back onto the road--it wouldn't hop the curb-like edge of the highway. Finally, I cut the wheel, but when the other tire gripped the road, it sent the car flying across the road faster than I could correct--the road was only a two lane, it wasn't very wide. I slammed on the breaks to slow it down and give me time to correct it, but it wasn't enough, instead the wheels locked and I was sent into a fishtail. The last thing heard was Darling Dearest scream, "Baby!" An almost separate memory was of the impact. It was more of a single frame and a sensation of the world flinging onto it's side.

The next thing I can remember, I was sitting in the passenger's seat. Darling Dearest was lying on the ground just outside of the door, which was open.

I know what happened, thanks to police reports and what my family has told me. When my car started to fishtail, another car--an SUV--came flying over a tiny hill. They saw me, but when they tried to avoid me, they wound up turning into me instead. This next part may sound like me trying to shirk blame, but that is not it at all. It's merely a hypothesis and a guess for why things turned out like they did. They must have been going very fast--well above the speed limit--because when my car was hit it split into two halves, the front half looking fairly untouched, and the back half sent sprawling into a fence as a massive ball of twisted metal. The police report stated that my car split, but really it was more like my car was gutted from the back half. This image is sort of helped by the fact that everything from the door frame on teh passenger side back is gone, safe for the back door on the driver's side, and a tiny, thin strip of metal that used to be a part of the trunk. Apparently the front part of the car was sent airborne, because there were no tire track marks leading to where we stopped.

I don't know how I got in the passenger seat. I was wearing my seat belt. As a matter of fact, I clearly remember making Darling Dearest put her's on before we left.

My mom says that I told her, when I was drugged up on pain killers and sedation medicine, that I saw Darling Dearest and I tried to get to her, but every time I would move my hip would hurt really bad. So apparently I crawled my way out of the driver's seat and over into the passenger's seat to get to my fiance before I passed out.

First of all, the easiest to post, were the injuries in the SUV. They were fine. Although the police report says that someone was transported, being on the scene, and having talked to one of the first responders, I know that no one has. Everyone was fine, although out a car, now, but then again, so am I.

I remember, at some point, talking to a man who I thought was a first responder, but who actually was a reporter for a local newspaper who drove up on the accident by chance, and who was sent over to make sure I was okay and to keep me calm and keep my mind off of my fiance. He said, "I know it'll sound stupid, but...how's your day going?" I believe my response was, "Pretty shitty."

On a side note, I don't begrudge the man at all. As a matter of fact, I'm very very thankful to him. While he was there, he talked to me about Darling Dearest -- about how I proposed to her, what I wanted to do, what I actually did, and a ton of other memories. It was good, calming, and kept me from coming out of the shock and realizing what a horrible mess this actually was. I read his editorial later, where he kicked himself for not having anything better to say. He said he led with something stupid, and finished with something weak. "Well, I'll be praying for you guys, hard." In retrospect, he wanted to have said something better. Being a devout catholic, he wanted to have broken out the rosary beads, or said Psalm 23, or something. Instead, he kicked himself for "I'll be praying for you guys, hard." In my opinion, that was the exact, perfect thing to say.

That's what I wanted.

That's what I was doing.

When I wasn't answering questions, every fiber of my being was going into praying for the survival of the person I care for more than anything else in all of existence. More than my own injuries, more than my own life, the thing I wanted most was for her to be okay. I remember telling her as the first responders worked on her, that had to fight. She had to get better and make it through this, because we had a wedding to plan, we had a life to start, so she had to get better for me.

Out of the accident, my injuries were: a fractured pelvis...well, technically two fractures, but they're on the major and minor pubic bones. It won't require surgery to fix, just time to mend itself. I also had a minor contusion on my lung, which has since gone away, and a ruptured disc in my back.

Now, the next part will sound bad, but what I'm telling you is good news. It shows significant progress, which is why I'm glad I waited to post this.

Darling Dearest got: a broken leg, broken ribs, a punctured lung, trauma to the back of the head, a fractured pelvis, a broken clavicle, and a fractured neck. She also had internal bleeding. I was told later, much later, that they didn't expect her to live. She had to be air-evacuated with a chopper, and they didn't think she'd survive the helicopter ride. She did, but she was hooked up to a ventilator.

Now the good parts: the internal bleeding was only from her spleen, which has been removed. No other bleeding. A rod has been surgically placed in her left leg, and they said they're not gonna even cast it, because the rod is holding everything fine. Her chest tube has been taken out, which means her lung has been fixed. Her neck fracture was, apparently, very minor, and with no spinal injuries at all.

They kept her in a medically induced coma for a week, but now she's awake, her breathing is stable, and she's very lucid. The one downside is she has difficulty moving her left side--not just the broken leg, but her arm, which was not broken. She can move it a little, and she's gaining more movement everyday, but she's still going to need some rehab. She can't talk, but not because she's not actually able. They put a tracheal tube in because the breathing tube was causing her to gag. So, unfortunately, she can't talk. But she can write and do sign language (something I didn't even know she knew!) and that's enough for me, for now. I do, however, look forward to the day when they take the trache out so that she can start telling me everything that sucks. I don't care how much she complains, just to hear her voice will be such music that God and his choir of angels couldn't match it.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that things have improved significantly. If you want to, I highly encourage prayers, good thoughts, good vibes, or whatever you happen to believe in and want to send our way--particularly her way. She needs it, because I want her well ASAP.

Please don't pity me or her, as the news is very good and getting better everyday. Also, please, if you're outraged by this event, and think that I should be strung up for being a terrible and neglectful driver, please don't comment. Believe me when I tell you I'm well aware of my mistakes, and I would go back and fix them in a heartbeat. I would spin the car the other way and take the full brunt of the blow. I'm sure none of you would put anything like that, but I thought I'd get it out there just in case. Everyone I know has been sympathetic, save one waitress who asked me why I was on crutches, and then proceeded to politely and sadly drive what little self-respect I'd managed to gather back together into the ground.

Anyway, I don't want this post to get pitiful, sappy, melodramatic, or anything like that. I've tried to keep to the facts, and I just wanted you to know. I know I'm not the most prolific of bloggers, but I thought I'd let you know, my presence on the blog might or might not be scarce. It could be that when I go back to college this semester, since Darling Dearest won't be able to be there, that I blog a lot with nothing to fill my spare time. Or it could be that I'll throw myself into school work or writing or something, or I may be busy with Darling Dearest, should they move her nearby or should I have the time to leave off to be with her during the week.

What I've taken away from this is, no matter what happens, you have to take your time to understand and adjust to the situation--grieve, laugh, whatever you have to do--and when the moment passes and you have clarity, you have to set your shoulders and keep pushing through until you make it out the other side. There is an "other side," and Darling Dearest and I will make it, and we will be all the stronger and closer for having gone through this. Maybe, though, with your prayers, we can make it just a little faster, though.

Revenge of Lobster Man

How did I get here again? I'd like to say that I made some kind of horrible mistake, and I'm reaping the consequences of my actions, but that wouldn't be true. This is one time where I am not to blame for the misfortune that has befallen me, it is simply sorrow delivered straight from the Universe.

No, I didn't perform scientific experiments revolving around the genetics of lobsters and humans resulting in a super powered lobster man to rampage through my lab and nearby town in a furious rage on a quest to understand his origins. That would be way more interesting.

Thursday was my day off. To celebrate my day off, my friends and I -- and My Darling Dearest -- packed up and headed off to a swimming hole that we know of. It took a while to get there. My brother, who came along, thought we were fooling him when we told him you had to climb rocks to get there. We weren't. We were actually underplaying it a bit. It's a pretty hard hike to get to this swimming hole -- over enormous rocks cliffs.

Once there, I put on enough sunblock to fill the ozone layer and protect the Earth for the next 30,000 years. Then I went swimming. Then we ate lunch. Then I put on even more sunblock. I was literally dripping with it at one point, and I asked my girlfriend to aid me in the quest of rubbing it all in. We're both significantly Irish, so we burn easily. We knew the dangers.

Anyway, by the end of the day, which had resulted in about five hours of swimming, we headed back. It was hot. So hot, as a matter of fact, we all almost passed out. My face started going numb, so we all got back in the water -- a different spot, since we were on the hike on the way home -- to drop our body temperature some. By the time we got back, we were all thankful to be alive.

However, since then I have learned of the price I paid for my desire to continue shuffling along on this mortal coil. My ears, face, and back are sunburned raw, and my shoulders are so sunburned I have hundreds of blisters popping up. It hurts to move, and shirts are things worn only in the most dire of situations. Nobody else got it that but, just me and Oh Dearest One. She got it just as bad as I did.

I missed work Friday because it was so bad, and while it's improved since then, I'm not looking forward to going back to work today just so I can see the little tykes and have them slap me on my burns. By the way, it's "Wet and Wild" themed week at work...yippee dee. I get to be outside in the baking hot sun for hours on end. And I have to go to a water theme park on Wednesday with the kids. Even more time spent outside...

As if that wasn't bad enough, I got a TB test on Monday. On Wednesday, I was supposed to have it checked, but my boss left for the day and left me in charge, so i couldn't leave. So now I have to start all over!! I hate needles, and now I have to do it again...and then again b/c if you haven't had a TB test in 2 years, they make you take two...

Wake me up when this week is over, okay?

Fear

Fear. Writers try to ensnare it in words all the time. It's our job to try to find those words that will make readers' hearts race, their palms sweat, and their hairs stick up on the back of their necks. An entire genre was created for those who couldn't get enough of the heeby jeebies, and even if you don't read horror, every writer uses the tool of fear at some point or another because every character has fears, desires, goals, and the like.

I thought I knew fear. I've experienced some terrifying things before. When I was six, I fell into the adult deep end of a very large hotel swimming pool. I was terrified that I was going to die, and if one of my family hadn't seen me fall in and dove in to get me, I may have.

When I was 12 or 13 I was hiking with my dad one day and fell off the trail and off the mountain. The only things that stopped me from rolling and crashing to the bottom was a patch of briars that I bounced into.

A couple of years later, when I was hiking with my step brother on a camping trip, we became surrounded by coyotes.

However, I never really knew fear until a few months ago. I was talking to my girlfriend on the phone. We weren't quite dating yet -- we were in that awkward "basically dating, but still not official" stage, when suddenly she told me that she was watching the news, and some pretty big storms were brewing. I was at college, so I was more concerned with her, but she was more concerned about the ones brewing near me. As I spoke to her, I was slightly concerned, but nothing more than the typical, "Man, I hope the storms don't get too bad."

Well, is the storm progressed, she was placed under a severe storm warning, and then a tornado watch. I became a little more apprehensive, but tried not to let it get to me. My dad died about a year ago from tornadoes, so I have a new found respect for their power. I know what they can do -- I saw his solid oak and stone log house. It was gone except the foundation.

As I continued to talk to her, the "watch" progressed into a "warning." Then, she told the sirens went off. My heart leaped into my chest. She had to go into their shop so that she could be away from windows. She lived in a mobile home...this could end badly.

I had two things come to my mind. I had to talk to her, because she was crying and hysterical and her mom was rocking back and forth in the floor praying and frantic, but I also worried for my family, because my mom and brother were in the same town. However, my mom could console my brother, and my girlfriend had no one, so I talked to her.

Now, I've been terrified, before, but I knew nothing of real terror until this moment. Nothing has ever made my heart stop more suddenly, or my blood run colder than these words: "I can see it."

In those four words, I felt my entire life go away. More than that, I felt my sanity break down. My mind shattered. I stopped breathing, my legs gave out, and the only thing holding me up was the fact that I was leaning against my bed. I was silent, speechless, and in complete and total shock. I finally came back to my senses when my girlfriend said in a fragil, tiny voice, "If you could say something to talk me through this, that would be great, because I'm kinda scared right now."

I was instantly talking. I told her everything would be alright, I told her that nothing was going to happen, she would be fine. I told her all these things, but I didn't believe a word of it. I had an empty feeling in my soul. I could feel a blackness hanging around me, and I felt hopeless as I was witness to everything I loved being torn from me.

After a few minutes of talking, it was over, and my girlfriend got in her mom's car, and her and her mom went to go check on a few things. She heard word from her mom, who was on her cellphone, that the tornado hit the court house, which is just a few blocks from my family's house.

I immediately began calling my family. I couldn't get a hold of anyone. My mom's line was dead, my grandmother's line was dead, and when I tried to call back my girlfriend, I couldn't get through to her either. I was completely and utterly cut off from everyone I loved.

As the minutes dragged on, each second counting off a thousand years, I became convinced that everyone I loved was dead. My stomach twisted into knots, I doubled over, and I cried. I cried with everything I had. As tears streamed down my face, I looked up at the sky and begged God to let everyone be okay.

For 30 minutes, the longest 30 minutes of my life, I called the same 5 numbers over and over again: my mom's cellphone, my house phone, my grandparents house phone, my brother's cellphone, and my girlfriend's cellphone.

Finally, I got a hold of my girlfriend, and while I was relieved, I wasn't consoled. I still hadn't heard from my family.

Just when I was about to go into a full hysteria, with my girlfriend doing her best to console me, I heard my phone beep. My mom's cell. Like a flash, I switched lines, ecstatic to hear from them. Not only were they okay, but there was no damage done to our house. The tornado hit, literally, 2 blocks away, and went in the other direction.

I missed my college classes that day and went home for the weekend early. My town was decimated. Hundreds lost their houses, and a good portion of the town was just gone. It will never be the same again. I could see signs of the damage a couple of miles before I even got there.

The first place I went was to my girlfriend's house. It was then and there that I told her it was ridiculous of us to try to fight it, that I cared about her more than I've cared about anybody in a long time, and that I wanted her to be my girlfriend. Obviously, she accepted.

Next, I went to my grandparents house, because all the roads leading to my house were damaged or covered with debris so badly that no one could get through. I met up with my grandparents, and then found a tiny back road that I used to sneak past the cops and the National Guard and went home, and hugged my mom and my brother, and then we went to go see how my aunt fared the storm, all the while, my girlfriend and I called friends to make sure they were okay.

I'm so glad that everyone I cared about not only is totally okay, but none of them suffered any damage to their homes.I've never really understood fear, but after that night, I know it. I've seen it's face. I almost lost everything I love. I'll never take my family for granted again.

Happy Belated Easter

Hey guys, happy belated Easter. I'm on the road, out of state, on spring break, and trying to take care of somethings on the legal end of my dad's estate. I didn't think I'd be able to post, and I'll explain more later, but after the nightmare that was yesterday/this morning*, things seem to be working out for the better, at least for now.

*Trust me, it's a doozie of a story.

Submission and Opening Pandora's Box

As many of you know, I finally got the guts up to mail off a couple of my short stories for publication. Yesterday, I mailed it off.

I was going to mail them off on Saturday, but we wound up not going to town until the post office had already closed. Since the mail didn't run on Sundays I had to wait until Monday to mail them off. In the mean time, I started researching magazines, because one of the first things I realized was you can't sell a short story if you don't know what market to send it to.

I found some that were perfect, but then I decided I needed to go through one last time and make sure everything was square. Since it was for real this time, since it was for all the bannanas, I wanted to make sure that I had caught all the grammer mistakes, that I had fixed all the parts where the writing was weak, blah blah. What I didn't realize was that, by examining the stories for just a moment, I opened Pandora's box.

I saw one thing that didn't work. No, two. No, three. Now, four. Five? Six? What were they, multiplying? At one point I was so delirious that I swear, when I looked at the page, I saw the words fornicating and creating more and more errors and mistakes.

In horror, I set out with my trusty pen and began hacking and slashing, fixing errors and repairing typos, changing parts of the story that didn't seem to work, or fleshing out areas that needed more fleshing. I must have cost us a small fortune in paper and ink, and I'm sure everyone in my family read them five times, if not more. I apologized to my mom over and over and over again about all the trouble I was putting everyone through. Bless my mom's heart, by the end of the evening, she was probably more frazzled about the mailing than I was.

Finally, I got the last draft done, a few errors had to be fixed but nothing major. Then I stressed on printing out address labels, making sure the addresses were perfect and the right SASE (Self-Addressed, Stamped Envelope to those of you who -- like I did -- have no clue what a "SASE" is) with the right manuscript envelope, and finally, I crashed into bed at one in the morning, exhausted from stressing so much.

The next morning, I woke up at around 7:30 -- the usual time for me on the weekdays -- but by 10:00 I was already exhausted. I had hardly slept the night before; I was still worrying about the manuscripts. So I decided to take a nap. At noon I woke up in horror, my heart pounding, because I realized a few pages from one of my manuscripts still had writing on them from errors I had to fix, and I hadn't printed out the new pages to replace them. I flew to my laptop and, in a frenzy, I fussed with it until every page was perfect.

Then, I had another problem. Paperclips! I needed paperclips! Everyone knows you can't mail off a manuscript without paperclips!!! So then I had to search the house for paperclips. We were out! So I called my mom and had to have my brother pick up paperclips from her work so that I could mail them off.

So then, I finally had to go to the post office. The last time I went, I had made a simple mistake -- I thought I had grabbed all the money in my pocket to buy stamps, but I had forgotten a nickel, so then the old, bald man behind the desk had to look at me like I was an idiot and tapped his fingers impatiently after saying, "If you don't have more than that you're not getting any," while I searched for the missing, elusive nickel.

With that event still fresh in my mind, I felt my chest tighten. I didn't know what to buy or what stamps or how many I'd need. What if I messed up? What if I didn't get enough postage and then they got sent back, and then I'd have to wait even longer for a resonse. What if there was a line at the post office and, after running out of patience with my doddering around with my little stories, they rioted and sacrificed me on a table made of postage stamps and Express Mail boxes.

My heart pounded as I approached the desk. I cleared my throat and said, in a pitifully soft voice, "Ma'am, I'm here to mail these. I'll need a lot of stamps."

She smiled at me sweetly and looked at the envelopes. Then, she helped me buy giving me four stamps for the SASE, a book of stamps for home (because we were out) and then weighing and putting the proper stamps and their proper number on each package.

When I finally paid and left, my hands were cold, clammy, and shaky. I had done it. I had finally done it. I mailed off my stories, I submitted a manuscript...something I'd heard on author's blogs and biographies all my life, but never actually thought I'd do.

I drove in a daze, not really taking in anything that I saw as I drove. I got home and collapsed onto the couch.

A short story is only a fragment of what a novel would be. Just the thought of making sure every page of the novel was mistake-free makes me break out in cold chills. Not to mention, all this horror, all the ink and effort and stress and strain, and I still won't hear from them for months, and when I do, it may not (probably won't) be a "yes."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go dig my stuffed tiger "Hobbes" from my closet, fix myself a cup of hot cocoa, and curl up underneath my bed covers and hide from the Big Scary World.

Digging in for the storm

I've got two research papers, a test, and all my finals coming up in these few weeks, so if you don't hear from me for a while, I'll be up to my neck in the college avalanche. Wish me luck.

It's Been A While

Whoo, it's been a serious while, hasn't it? I opened up this thing and I swear, it was like opening one of those old boxes in the attic that you keep because you want to look back later and reminice. You know, every now and then, you add something new before you bury it in boxes and dust. Just a second ago, I think I saw a virtual spider attacking a helpless family of flies.

Sorry, I'm feeling rusty. I've disappeared, because college life is not as easy as it looks on TV (who would have thought?), but I think things are gonna work out okay. It was a rough ride, though.

Damn it all, I missed Halloween. Here, there was nothing, but this coming weekend my friends are having a very belated Halloween party, and that should be fun. Nothing like Halloween in November. I wonder if that's like Christmas in July? Thanksgiving is coming soon, the perfect chance to eat a whole hell of a lot and spend the next three days suffering from the side-effects of making yourself look like a pig. I can't wait. It will be the first Christmas with my best friend, and I'm sure he'll get a kick out of my uncle, he's quite the character.

Let's see, what comes after Thanksgiving? New Years Eve, April Fools Day, Groundhog Day...oh yeah, CHRISTMAS! Oh, I can't wait for that one. I've already started shopping, ha ha. I'm definitely NOT one of those last minutes shoppers.

If I used to go to your blogs, I'd love you to post the link to them in the comments. Both my laptop and my desktop at home had to get wiped out, and I lost all my links that I've been collecting for the better part of four years. *sigh* I was sad to see it go. That was a nightmare. My laptop was littered with errors that brought up a pretty striped screen of death. It turns out it was the graphics card, but that was before we wiped out my computer. It probably needed it, but I would have liked to have had a backup record of links and files that are now spiraling into the abyss.

Then, my desktop got a pretty worm virus on it and I had to wipe out the entire thing. That pissed me off a little, because that computer was the dumping ground. It had EVERYTHING I loved on it. All my old stuff, old stories from the sixth grade, essays I wrote to get into college, songs lyrics, music sheets, drawings, lots of stuff, gone in an instant. But that'll teach me. I should back up my stuff.

Oh, and in other news, it's NaNoWriMo! For those of you who want some fun, Lynn Viehl has some great stuff on her site in the archives, and she usually posts every year. More news on NaNoWriMo when I get some. I never participate because I never have the time to dedicate that it requires. I barely have time to write as it is.

Anyway, that's all my catching up for now. How's everyone else?

Explanation about Absense

Yeah, sorry about being gone for so long. It's actually been quite the busy past few days. Just before I posted Fates post 1, my back went out. I couldn't walk for the better part of two days. It wasn't fun, and I still cant' figure out how I did it. Then I went visiting a friend I haven't seen in a couple of months.

After that, we went to the town where I'll be going to college, just so I could drive the route and try to memorize it. On the way up there, though, we saw a car in the middle of the road. It's front was smashed, and a little distance away, a motorcycle was wrapped around a hospital sign. The driver of the car was panicking and the motorcyclist was lying in the ditch. We helped him stop the bleeding from his face and called 911 and stayed with him until the ambulence came. His left leg was broken--apparently she turned right into his leg. He was really really lucky, because he got hit at the end of the driveway to the hospital. Obviously we were late getting to our destination, so we decided to spend the night.

Then, when we got back, I left again to go hang out with another friend I haven't seen in a few months. So, yeah...it's been quite a week.