Okay, so here's the deal.
I don;t know whether to be so excited I could pee my pants (jumping up and down in excietment as we speak,) Or nervous as hell.
I go between - "this is so awesome, I can't contain myself", to "I don't know what the hell I've done to myself."
I was over the moon with myself because someone accepted my bid for a freelance writing job. I haven't even started that one yet. I got another bid, for 10 articles in a week." Friday about 2 am I felt so accomplished, even though I'd slept very few hours during the week, while taking care of my family and going to my "real" job
Then the guy who hired me for the blog posts, decides he needs a job done with a higher priority. So now two jobs have suddenly turned into 3 with a promise that if this job works out I'll have "a ton of work" sent my way.
Then, this was in my email this more. From the guy with the 10 articles...."I appreciate your work. Could use 20 more articles. Are you interested?"
Holy Hell, I'm now a Professional Writer!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Phallic Friday
I promise not to make this a weekly thing!
I have always understood that men have deep rooted "Attachment" to their genitals. All day long you're scratching and shifting and yanking on "the boys" But I never got how early it happened in your development.
My son is not even a year old. I've never seen him happier than the few minutes it takes to change the dirty diaper to a clean one. And if he can run off before the clean one gets put on he's ecstatic!
I buy the boy bath toys, but does he pay with them? NO. He's too busy pulling and pinching the little bits. He could play with the thing for hours!
But this morning was too much. I was changing his diaper and wiggled IT at me. Wiggled it! I could hear the words "Helicopter,helicopter..." echoing in the dark corners of my mind...
He WIGGLED he willy at me!
The little shit takes after his father... It just goes to show that men NEVER grow up!!!
I have always understood that men have deep rooted "Attachment" to their genitals. All day long you're scratching and shifting and yanking on "the boys" But I never got how early it happened in your development.
My son is not even a year old. I've never seen him happier than the few minutes it takes to change the dirty diaper to a clean one. And if he can run off before the clean one gets put on he's ecstatic!
I buy the boy bath toys, but does he pay with them? NO. He's too busy pulling and pinching the little bits. He could play with the thing for hours!
But this morning was too much. I was changing his diaper and wiggled IT at me. Wiggled it! I could hear the words "Helicopter,helicopter..." echoing in the dark corners of my mind...
He WIGGLED he willy at me!
The little shit takes after his father... It just goes to show that men NEVER grow up!!!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
This is why I write
On the way to the sitter's this morning I was thinking about how nice it would be to have the freedom of a child again.
I remembered what it was like to watch my cousin climb up the back of the football bleachers in Kress, and how even though my grandmas chewed her ass- she smiled. It was worth it to her to feel the fear of falling, to feel the wind in her face-to feel the victory of conquering such an obstacle.
I want to feel that again. I want to play tackle football in the rain, to feel the wind in my hair going ninety down the highway.
I want to make a magic potion of milk, pickle juice and ketchup because if I drink it-I can stay up until the sun rises.
I want to play capture the flag and use the whole block for hide and seek. Or if we have to be banished inside-upgrade hide and seek to murder in the dark.
I want to steal garden gnomes and pumpkins and then send ransom notes to their owners, I want to play Charlie's Angels.
I want to swing, and jump, to fly, even if for half a second, and then feel my feet buried in the sand.
I want to be a boxer.
I want to transfer the pool in the backyard to the sea, and when I duck under the water I want to grow a fish tail and wear seashells over my breasts, and braided into my hair.
Anyone want to play with me?
I remembered what it was like to watch my cousin climb up the back of the football bleachers in Kress, and how even though my grandmas chewed her ass- she smiled. It was worth it to her to feel the fear of falling, to feel the wind in her face-to feel the victory of conquering such an obstacle.
I want to feel that again. I want to play tackle football in the rain, to feel the wind in my hair going ninety down the highway.
I want to make a magic potion of milk, pickle juice and ketchup because if I drink it-I can stay up until the sun rises.
I want to play capture the flag and use the whole block for hide and seek. Or if we have to be banished inside-upgrade hide and seek to murder in the dark.
I want to steal garden gnomes and pumpkins and then send ransom notes to their owners, I want to play Charlie's Angels.
I want to swing, and jump, to fly, even if for half a second, and then feel my feet buried in the sand.
I want to be a boxer.
I want to transfer the pool in the backyard to the sea, and when I duck under the water I want to grow a fish tail and wear seashells over my breasts, and braided into my hair.
Anyone want to play with me?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Blog Whore
Yep. I'm a blog whore.
I go back and forth-back and forth. When one blogger fails to post for the day I get antsy-feels like little ants are crawling under my skin. It started off simply enough. I'll start a blog site so my friends who give a damn can read my demented ramblings. But then I read someone else's and had to comment. They in return commented back and now I've created a monster. My list of one blog to read has become over ten and I keep finding MORE!
I start reading one and suddenly its 3'clock in the afternoon and I've wasted my day! I'm at work trying not to call people the "Stupid cow" I wanted to call them and I reach in my pocket and find my phone. "I have unlimited access to the internet," I think and I wonder if I just poke my head in to see what so and so has to say... and then the pharmacist is throwing empty bottles at my head.
I'm an addict-with an endless supply. DAMN.
But the last few days people have been slacking. 2-3 days with no post! You slay me!
And then I look at my own empty pages. What if I'm the crack in someone else's literary crack pipe? What if my whopping 4 followers feel the same? Have I let you down,my faithful followers?
Let the demented ramblings resume...
I go back and forth-back and forth. When one blogger fails to post for the day I get antsy-feels like little ants are crawling under my skin. It started off simply enough. I'll start a blog site so my friends who give a damn can read my demented ramblings. But then I read someone else's and had to comment. They in return commented back and now I've created a monster. My list of one blog to read has become over ten and I keep finding MORE!
I start reading one and suddenly its 3'clock in the afternoon and I've wasted my day! I'm at work trying not to call people the "Stupid cow" I wanted to call them and I reach in my pocket and find my phone. "I have unlimited access to the internet," I think and I wonder if I just poke my head in to see what so and so has to say... and then the pharmacist is throwing empty bottles at my head.
I'm an addict-with an endless supply. DAMN.
But the last few days people have been slacking. 2-3 days with no post! You slay me!
And then I look at my own empty pages. What if I'm the crack in someone else's literary crack pipe? What if my whopping 4 followers feel the same? Have I let you down,my faithful followers?
Let the demented ramblings resume...
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Two-Line Tuesday
From Christina Dodd's Touch of Darkness
As the Ferry closed on the island, he could see more detail-the blush of summer grass,the few trees, bent and blasted by wind, the white sand beaches beneath the cliffs. The place was a haven for seabirds; they wheeled through the air, crying of long migrations and short summers, and a single golden eagle flew high above them all, hunting...always hunting.
And mine:
It was still dark in the room, and though I couldn't hear the rain, I could see the shimmer of it against the glass of the window. From the chair next to my bed, a slumped figure snored softly.
Remember to head over to women of mystery for more two-lines.
As the Ferry closed on the island, he could see more detail-the blush of summer grass,the few trees, bent and blasted by wind, the white sand beaches beneath the cliffs. The place was a haven for seabirds; they wheeled through the air, crying of long migrations and short summers, and a single golden eagle flew high above them all, hunting...always hunting.
And mine:
It was still dark in the room, and though I couldn't hear the rain, I could see the shimmer of it against the glass of the window. From the chair next to my bed, a slumped figure snored softly.
Remember to head over to women of mystery for more two-lines.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Two-Line Tuesday
Here's two lines from Scent of Darkness by Christina Dodd:
It dwarfed the mighty trees around it, and it sat too close to the edge of the cliff. To her stunned gaze, it looked like a monster, the last of its species,hovering on the edge of lonely suicide.
And mine:
It was extremely satisfying to know exactly how much power was still left in my upper body. Extremely satisfying to hear the shattering of the glass on the tile floor, to know that I could break as well as be broken.
Head over to Women of Mystery for more two-lines...
It dwarfed the mighty trees around it, and it sat too close to the edge of the cliff. To her stunned gaze, it looked like a monster, the last of its species,hovering on the edge of lonely suicide.
And mine:
It was extremely satisfying to know exactly how much power was still left in my upper body. Extremely satisfying to hear the shattering of the glass on the tile floor, to know that I could break as well as be broken.
Head over to Women of Mystery for more two-lines...
Monday, February 2, 2009
Music Mondays
I've been thinking about doing My Town Mondays, but I don't want to steal Travis's thunder.
HA! (translation: I can't ever think of anything to write.) So, I've been thinking about something else to fill the gap. It'd be nice to think of something for every day of the week to keep me focused and writing something everyday, and that will come, but for now: Music Mondays.
Music has always been a huge part of my life. Whenever we have family functions, someone always brings out the instruments and starts singing. This could be anything from guitars, to piano's to spoons and washboards. But there is always music. Not from me-the only thing I can play is the radio. But my mom started playing piano when she was 6. She plays by ear. She can hear a song once and play it. That always amazed me.
My dad's uncle and cousin spent a majority of their life in honky-tonks and Bo even has a couple of CD's. He never made it big, but the man was talented. I'm even related in a round about way to Kevin Fowler.
Our favorite movie when we were kids was footloose.
And sadly enough, My cousin and I, even at 30 years old, have been caught in the kitchen letting loose to brown eyed girl by Van Morrison.
Music to me has always been another form of creativity, a way to express what you want to say, but don't know how to say it. You pour your feelings into the music, and you even get something back from it.
I've often said that I listen to all types of music, from classical to the heaviest hard rock, and that whatever I'm listening to depends on my mood. That's true. So here's another way to say, without having to say it, exactly what's on my mind.
Today, this is how I feel:
Joss Stone - Right to Be Wrong
HA! (translation: I can't ever think of anything to write.) So, I've been thinking about something else to fill the gap. It'd be nice to think of something for every day of the week to keep me focused and writing something everyday, and that will come, but for now: Music Mondays.
Music has always been a huge part of my life. Whenever we have family functions, someone always brings out the instruments and starts singing. This could be anything from guitars, to piano's to spoons and washboards. But there is always music. Not from me-the only thing I can play is the radio. But my mom started playing piano when she was 6. She plays by ear. She can hear a song once and play it. That always amazed me.
My dad's uncle and cousin spent a majority of their life in honky-tonks and Bo even has a couple of CD's. He never made it big, but the man was talented. I'm even related in a round about way to Kevin Fowler.
Our favorite movie when we were kids was footloose.
And sadly enough, My cousin and I, even at 30 years old, have been caught in the kitchen letting loose to brown eyed girl by Van Morrison.
Music to me has always been another form of creativity, a way to express what you want to say, but don't know how to say it. You pour your feelings into the music, and you even get something back from it.
I've often said that I listen to all types of music, from classical to the heaviest hard rock, and that whatever I'm listening to depends on my mood. That's true. So here's another way to say, without having to say it, exactly what's on my mind.
Today, this is how I feel:
Joss Stone - Right to Be Wrong
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)