…And I’m Back

Oh, hey all.  I hope you’re glad I’ve returned.

If you're not happy, I am unsure of why you're here.  Except I'm guessing it's schadenfreude--and I totally get that.

If you’re not happy, I am unsure of why you’re here. Except I’m guessing it’s schadenfreude–and I totally get that.

You’ll probably notice the blog looks different now.  Personally, I like the simplicity of the new theme better.  It fits with my penchants for minimalism and adequate organization, which is not to say these goals are oft realized.  Mention to anyone who has seen a home of mine that I like organization and you will get to see a very comic reaction.  Also, I really like the color blue.

It's pretty much the best color; although, I only wish I could wink that well.  I look like I'm twitching.

It’s pretty much the best color; although, I only wish I could wink that well. I look like I’m twitching.

Some other changes you’ll be seeing within the next week will include updates to some of the pages I’ve not used much–i.e. half the tabs on this blog.  The biggest change is that I’ll talk about being a self-employed writer.  I still feel like I’m running around in the dark in regards to such writing, as I mentioned earlier, but it’s a big–and scary–part of my life at present so it is undeniably relevant.

The word count of the “professional” writing will now be included in the stats that go up on Sundays.  The range those counts cover will also begin today as I’d like to use it as a new starting point.

My plan is to still be vague about this writing.  I opt to use pseudonyms for reasons and I’ll talk about this down the line.  I hope this adds a new dimension to the blog because I view working as a self-employed writer (or working to be able to work as a self-employed writer) as a social experiment.  It’s undeniably different from having a job with an hourly wage or a salary and that makes it undeniably terrifying in a few ways.  I also know a few people who don’t think it’s real work and a few others who lovingly expect me to fail.  No pressure or anything.

Thankfully it can or this blog would be way too whiny.  And maybe on livejournal.

Thankfully it can or this blog would be way too whiny. And maybe on livejournal.

On Wednesday, I’ll talk more about why I opted to go the self-employed route.

Get psyched, cats and kittens.


Hiatus, some insight, and a short passage

I’ve mentioned being off my game in my last few posts and while everything that troubled me has been or is being resolved, I’m still off. And I’ve been overestimating my ability to bounce back when promising posts on here.



It’s been irresponsible of me and certainly nothing I want to make a habit and that has necessitated some self reflection.

Like this but entirely different

Like this but entirely different

What I’ve concluded is that different things I’ve been dealing with have thrown me off enough that I am going to be focusing much more on my writing and a few aspects of my life that are not this blog. Although I enjoy doing this and think it could be of incredible value, it can also provide a distraction that has too great a potential to hinder me in the next few weeks. My outside estimate for my return is the first Sunday in August.

I hope you’ll miss me but not too much.

That'll do.

That’ll do.

Until then, I hope you enjoy what I have up here currently. And I do have something for you. I talked here about removing the image of a window’s melting glass. One reason I cut the image from an early draft of “Karas” was my realizing it would fit better in a story about a woman named Emily, who like Kara has some odd experiences.

What I have for you is a passage about “Emily.” It’s imagery heavy because I often latch on to one or two pieces of imagery before writing. This passage I actually thought of while trying to fall asleep and, when I realized I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I couldn’t stop thinking about Emily, I scrawled it onto a scrap of paper. Oh, warning: it, like a good amount of early drafts of mine, is written in first-person present tense.

So here goes:

There is a second where I am swimming, and, then in the next second, I am dying. Drowning to be exact, but it comes around to dying. It is the moment I realize that I will not make it to land; I will sink.

My arms look pale against the water – despite the tan I have been trying to build. They look weak once I slip below the waves and long as they trail after me, Long like the dead, dying bones in them. Do bones die? Can they be said to be alive? If so, I’m sure mine will outlive me, long outlasting the flesh that the saltwater will eat voraciously.

The water hits my lungs and starts to burn. I’ve heard drowning is peaceful and blame the pain on the last bubble of my air that I can see rising to the surface, the impenetrable surface. I close my eyes and try to be calm. This is what happens when your body dries of the adrenaline that let you escape a sinking ship. This is what happens when you stop caring about the warmth of your bed, your inherited smile–once your mother’s–sharks, and what the person who pulls you out of the water will look like.

And then Emily wakes up, which is when it starts to be fun for me. This particular story got explored in a piece of flash fiction that may end up on here in the future as well.

For now though, that is all. ’til August, cats and kittens!

Sunday Summary 6/16/13

So today’s Sunday Summary–the first one at that–is going to be piss-poor.  Let’s just get that out there, cats and kittens.

I am this embarrassed without being this cute to make up for it.

I am this embarrassed without being this cute to make up for it.

So I fear most of what I have for you is:

Word count: too low for me to feel remotely good about myself (fyi: the professional, self-published and for sale writing that I do will not be part of this count until it’s something I begin to talk about on here)

To make up for that, I can offer:

Number of topless people I saw outside White Castle this week: 2

Which is something I firmly believe just shouldn't happen.

Which is something I firmly believe just shouldn’t happen.

By way of explanation:

Number of seriously emotionally distressing things that happened this week: 5 (with 2 ongoing)

I'm not much of a plate breaker when I'm sad, but look at his form.  Marvelous.  Please imagine David Attenborough saying "Marvelous.

I’m not much of a plate breaker when I’m sad, but look at his form. Marvelous. Please imagine David Attenborough saying “Marvelous.”

Check back Wednesday for a proper post after eat some donuts/feelings.  It will be on workspaces or the first artist/writer in the media profile, depending on how tidy I feel like making my desk Wednesday…