July, July…

Speaking as a college graduate, multitasking is not easy.

Right now, I’m busy trying to write this blog post, finish both “fan-fictions” on this blog, and burning my own CD’s, all before my dentist appointment. And I’m listening to this song as part of my “music therapy”:

My best friend Kerensa put this song on one night in college when we stayed over at her dorm, and I completely forgot to ask her to add it to my mix CD. Now on to the next disc… White Stripes’ White Blood Cells, the Jack White record containing our “friendship” theme song “Hotel Yorba“, which we sang often while riding the elevator in the Glen Towers.

Yes, I am quite distracted at the moment. Give me a second to get everything together… Off to my appointment, back in a few minutes… (Jeopardy! theme…)

Me, a little ticked off during a crappy day in journalism class from a very tough professor I had trouble admiring. "Writing for New Media" was a pill and a half when this was taken in 2010.

Me, a little ticked off during a crappy day in journalism class from a very tough professor I had trouble admiring. “Writing for New Media” was a pill and a half when this was taken in 2010. This is how I feel now. 😀 

Ok, after that angry fiasco, now I think I can pull it together. You see, with my obscure schedule I tend to get sidetracked easily, but maybe it’s just because I’m trying to do too many things all at the same time. I’m waiting to hear back from Customer Service with my student loans so I can send them an email with my income-based request and I still don’t see anything in my inbox yet, which bothers me a little. Plus, I need to work some things out with both Franklin Square and A.C. Moore in finding more yarn for a couple of time-sensitive projects regarding a friend’s baby shower…

Many writers have their quirks, the worst things about being a writer. It’s not just the things you talk about at writer conferences or retreats. Sometimes it has to do a great deal with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and everything on your tablet!

In a Writer’s Digest online article written by newly published author Mary Weber, it’s the expectations that always get us down: all the blunders of forcing ourselves to write every day, meeting the word count, or changing how we’ve written query letters. Other times, it’s our little friend resentment, that disgusting little monkey on your back when you’ve failed, and waiting for the other person who made you fail get monkey poo flung onto their faces as well.

Today, for instance, was brought on as a miserable ugly nothingness day full of grayish bleakness as it was for most of the afternoon. All morning was sunshine and 80 degree weather and I did feel pretty good at first in writing another blog. Then I fell into the negativity quicksand yet again. I still can’t get my wisdom teeth pulled for free, regardless of Medicaid; I’ve totally starved myself for lunch even though I have six bucks in my purse, and my stomach’s making so much noise I’m worried it’s going to eat the rest of me. But here in the United States, can $6 plus tax get you a juicy sandwich or burger without the “post-cash receipt” guilt? Not if you’re sitting by a Subway, then forget it.

I’m sitting at a freezing cold public library typing this out. I’m in desperate need of hot tea, a plain tomato cheeseburger, a small salad, and raspberries with chocolate sauce, but do I see that going into my stomach anytime soon? There isn’t even a Subway sandwich chain within walking distance, unless I want to be trampled to death by cars on my way to the mall across this traffic-light-but-no-pedestrian-crosswalk town. That’s White Marsh and Parkville right there.

I can’t even get some warm chamomile down my throat. No microwaves in a six mile radius, and if I go to Starbucks, they will charge me $2.50 for one of their teas instead of just filling up my own mug of hot water. I have the sugar and herbal tea bags on hand, no hot water.

I might as well be trapped like Princess Leia:

DeathStar2

Or just like what happened to poor Clara (Oswin Oswald) in “Asylum of the Daleks”:

Clara I'm human

You see what I mean? I know I’ve been saying this too much and repeating myself, but sometimes I feel like I can’t stress it enough. When is money and how much of it we spend all the time going to stop defining who we are? When will our bank records stop mattering to those who want to give you that thing that we’ve always wanted for entire centuries? To quote Disney’s Hercules to illustrate: “The thing you’ve wanted since the beginning of the entire cosmos!”

…your freedom? Freedom of speech, free expression, free press, freedom to eat, freedom of medical help with dental, freedom of emotional health, free love, free religion, free happiness!

It’s true that America gives all or most of those things away in its Bill of Rights to the Constitution, but that still doesn’t put bread in your pocket. I still need a job and I know that. I just don’t start my training position until two months from now.

So what do I do in the meantime? Lie about my age and take a job that was meant to be for high school kids? Or lie about my background and take a job I don’t understand at all, because it requires 10-15 years of experience?

Answer to both of those last questions is post-humorously and obviously “no,” you know that as well as I do.

Getting back to what I was saying before, now that it is officially one whole month before my great big Blackout year, it is ridiculously hard to find happiness for absolutely nada. With us writers, all we’ve ever wanted is to not have our soul sucked out. Enough with the soul sucking!!!

benedict write doctor write mal write gaimanthor write you should be writing

-Sometimes I have to play those images on repeat to snap me out of a funk like this one and just smile. (In case you don’t know who they are in this particular order: Ben Cumberbatch from Sherlock, Matt Smith as Doctor number 11, Nathan Fillion as Capt. Mal Reynolds of the Firefly Serenity, writing guru Neil Gaiman, and the Almighty Powerful Thor. All photos are fan-made, including the Oswin-Dalek and Death Star; I do not own them.)

Or better yet, I just discovered this image on my professional Facebook profile this morning, a parody of the infamous Sir Mix-a-Lot rap song about women’s backsides:

baby got books

Now that’s one way to encourage your kids to read! I love this idea already. Don’t think I would use it myself, though, no.

The next Mr. Midnight piece is nearly finished, and I know I took an entire extra month to complete it, but this time, I swear, I’m close. I’m just not sure when I’m going to publish the thing.

But hey! At least I finished this lengthy post before dinner! My fingers need some “defrosting” by the humid summer sun right about now. Good start to writing more.

So, my dear readers and fellow starving aspiring writers, just write. You get tired, work back. You get into the middle of a mind block, walk it off. (And yes, I am fully aware of those last remarks that I quoted from the latest Avengers movie. Just a shame it lost big Box Office numbers to a dinosaur amusement park.)

Playlist selection >>>

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