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It's so ... comforting to know that HHS and its teachers are paying close attention to our cheejran, as was evidenced by eight pieces of mail (and more pics) sent to me via my kidlette in a two-hour period. O_o Of course, I reprimanded her in one of my responses, telling her to pay attention. I'm sure she was all scared. She reminded me about the substitute (thus, them getting away with murder), and she wasn't gonna learn from /her/ (especially since the teacher told them to read...geez). I'm thinking I need to have a lil one-on-one chat with her. Although secretly, it still makes me feel all love-d when she e-mails me during class =) And I do have to agree about the sub teacher thing. It hasn't been /that/ long since I was in school, too. > : o No, no comments about all that necessary.



I highly recommend that ya just skip anything said after this point.

Talked with one of my former publishers yesterday, and have two assignments up for grabs, both features, and both of which are /vastly/ different. The going rate per word, however, was incentive enough for me to take both into consideration (just about 90% that I'll do it). Verizon thanks her for remembering me. It's funny how a writer never seems to lose their contacts. Or maybe it's just me and my weird last names...hrm. Just last month, I ran INto another former publisher who has started three new magazines. He gave me his business card, and I've already talked with him regarding their editorial calendar and how I could "fit in" with it. Or one. The other two are girly-girl mags. Plus, there's TERRY, WHO NEEDS TO MAIL ME. Grrr! I'm falling right back in to the pit of write-for-pay, which I swore I wouldn't do, or at least not until I finished this...creative project on which I'm working. Blahhhh. Here I go again, prostituting the craft. Some venues pay more than others, however. And one is dry as a bone. Kinda hard to groove up some subjects, I don't care how good a writer you might be (or might think you are). The others are really cool ;-) And with hers, I get to use my nom de plumes. Changing my sex really paid off, at least in the literary world. Sad that I did this, though. It's true -- men are twice as likely to be published in magazines than chicks, particularly when you're writing "non-chick", and serious technical/environmental/economical/financial stuff. And as big a sell-out as I have been, I've never sold out to a chick mag. (Nothing personal to those who DO write for 'em; just not my cup-o-tea.)

The professional definition of love would be getting paid to do something you'd gladly do for free. Sad fact is this: Doesn't really matter how good you are, nor how grammatically correct. Doesn't even count if you know what an inverted pyramid is or isn't (unless you ARE the editor), much less possess a recent copy of the A.P. Stylebook; you ain't gettin' published without knowing people in the bidness. Real people. Not the posers who wanna be. Of course, there are those rare exceptions. But still I have to wonder -- why do so many people try so hard to get published? For what do they yearn? Writers are born. They aren't necessarily educated, although knowing the "rules" never hurt. I think the writers who want to be but aren't are doing it for the wrong reasons. They do it to see their name in print, to be known, to make OODLES AND GAZOODLES OF MONEY! Little secret: Go for a month or two seeing your name in print and it becomes as boring as signing a check. Fact two: Wealth? You're not gonna get rich being a writer, unless some fluke occurs, and you get a sweet deal like I had in 1998. Or you know the right people. Or better yet, you're unrelenting, have TONS of self-confidence and know why some things sell and others don't, and never will. Fact is, everything has been said. It's all been written, exhausted in either movie, book, television series, SPEECHES, even. The only thing that separates good writers from hacks would be the ability to stand out. To compel total strangers to read you. To say what's already been said a million times in such a way that they keep ON reading you and more -- refer their friends to read, too. That, and making a deadline will set the writer apart from the herd of wanna-bes and keep your name and number in the right publishers' hands. When I was a weekly columnist, I received a considerable amount of "fan/fun/hate?" mail. The readers would often offer up suggestions on what to write. They would praise my work, or disagree (those were the most fun :D). A few asked how I came up with these things, week after week, never seeming to run out of ideas. That was easy enough to answer.

But a real writer who wants to CONTINUE being read would never answer it. Not to a hack, much less a reader. C'mon. EVERYone likes a mystery, even if it's a half-assed one. Those were the days. Being a columnist was more fun than being editor-in-chief. Can't even compare an "editor's letter" to a column on whatever strikes your interest that given week (or day...since I LOVED to ride right on up the a$$ of my dreadlines).

It was a conscious choice a few years' ago to take a very, non-sexy job with this huge corporation so I could produce my creative thing on the side, and *try* to become one of the anonymous faces in town. The anonymous part never worked, and now it seems like I'm about to get back on the merry-go-round of publishing and magazines. My poor creative vortex can't take all that. However, necessity is the mf of invention.

But I digress, as usual. I've actually made great headway on this project. It seems like I never run out of where to go, why, when, and with whom. All my characters dance for me on screen, while I move them like a clever chess player. And for purposes of the ultra-bored reader, this journal is in no way indicative of what I'm really doing. I just needed to justify all that, since my journal of late (and past) kinda sucks; and those who read it (for whatever reasons) are getting short-changed, especially if they read it because of my history or background or even reputation. I've used five names in the past, all of which are either sexually questionable, or initials only, but all recognized by my bank. Before I commit to any of these endeavors, I do need to remember to call my bank to ensure they still have these names on file. Anyway...this journal is a journal. /I/ wouldn't read me, and yet...there are *those* who just...can't...help themselves. LOL =) Then, there are those who are /horribly/ bored *cough*Ward*cough*. :D

*sigh*

I really didn't want to do this write-for-other-people thing. Maybe I'll only take two assignments. One is a no-brainer, and the other should be creatively challenging. Both are enough to take care of emergency financial woes without me going into a panic, though. So for me not to consider it would be stupid.

In other, even MORE boring news, today I've received three invites for V.D. Um...what's wrong with that picture? Plenty, I'm thinking. Really, I should give UP the whole dating thing. It's unfair to all of us, since I either won't/can't commit, ain't in the best of health, won't put out (heh), and am too honest when asked a direct question. Fact is, men SAY they want the truth. But in the end, they can't HANDLE it. Proof upon proof (upon proof) in my mailbox, VM, or face to face conversations. Don't ask a question unless you want an ugly truth. And don't ask an ugly question unless you want my foot up your...okay. So while I'm thinking about it...

Of mice and men...or rodents and boys
What's a journal entry without 'em? I'm just wondering why is it that men who DO qualify (in age, etc.) can't kiss? In fact, they know NOTHING about seduction, or so it seems. My personal lil hypothesis is that they've forgotten HOW. They're either recently divorced, or ruined by that wife of five to 10 to 15 years, and their lack of "correct approach" is the very reason she left (or forced him to make that move), let herself go, or simply stopped putting out (or all of the above).

While men are known for whining about his "awful wife", and taking out his "reasons for cheating: 101", polishing up those reasons daily, claiming that "his wife let herself go", the fact is she probably got sick and gave UP on his clumsy, boring, droll, predictable advances and trite conversation. Because somewhere along the line, he forgot the fine art of seduction. Okay, okay in all fairness, perhaps they both did. But it had to start somewhere, just as it was doomed to end. Thus, the divorce. Damaged goods. (Hate those coined terms, but...you know...). Aren't we all? Communication and respect are key, yet we all seem to lose it, especially when the break-up gets closer to becoming a reality. Once we bound over the line of civility, we "lose" them completely.

How do I know this? Wellllllll, I've had opportunity to put this theory to the test (and it doesn't hurt to be anonymous and do regular polling). It's a Catch-22, really, and kinda sucks. It's true; women love bad boys. It's so very rare that a man has a sufficient balance of good and bad. I mean, do we have to keep TELLING them that if his kiss feels like the Normandy Beach Invasion, he'll NEVER make it to second base? Can men over 30 simply not LEARN a new way to kiss after the corpse of their marriage lies dead in the grave? Or do they just not CARE? C'mon. Ask any woman, and she'll tell you. Be a Nancy-boy in bed, and we'll NEVER come back for seconds. We want the bad boy, the one who takes without really asking, the one who seduces us to the point where we think it's OUR idea. We want the one who's unafraid to call it what it is, and do what he wants, because he KNOWS who's in control. We want the cave man. After a couple of said pollings/surveys, I learned that although men fantasize about MANY things, women basically have two fantasies, which I'll er, keep to myself since ya never know if some 15-year-old stumbles on this journal. So I have experience coupled with other people's stories, desires, fantasies and truths, most of which they dare not tell to polite company. I encourage bad behavior ;-). And in all actuality, it sets whomever free to tell me these things.

I've decided, after having two agonizing - yet drastically different - situations in the past few weeks (er, actually, two years, practically) that I'm NOT settling for less than what I want. Not only do I not want to hurt anyone needlessly, but I don't want to BE hurt. Specifically. Fact is, I'm at that BEAUTIFUL age where I can exude womanly confidence without being overbearing in person, yet can still handle my own life without a "rescuer". I'm blessed with fairly youthful looks (someone said "timeless" the other day and I almost lost my soda), and this combination is always going to be a winner from 8 to 80. ALL women possess this ability. Few know how to tap into it, though, from what I've gleaned. Just showing up for PTO meetings is proof of /that/. Kind of a shame. Cleopatra knew this, but just like writing, you're either born with "it" or you're not. You can develop "it" to a certain degree; but just like being a "bad boy", you can't just become a seductress or any good at seducing unless it's part of who you are. Not saying that I'm any of these things. I just observe. Tis my job, mayn.

When I do read about married men in here who're unhappy, or searching for SOMEthing, ANYthing to "groove up the ole schlongus erectus", I think they've forgotten that women really WANT the man to BE the man. And those skills they used when they first met her have to be maintained. These guys seem to be the types who wake up with a hard one, and expect her to just be READY. I unhappily have experienced this, too. NEWS FLASH. It doesn't WORK that way with us. Geez. Again, I speak from experience and just had to journal all this down for my own reasons. It's no WONDER women let themselves go; NO ONE wants a Nancy boy in bed! Fact. Plus, if you're all shaky and lack self-confidence, and you're approaching us like a 12-year-old virgin, that's NOT gonna turn us on. If anything, we (or maybe just I) feel a sort of contempt for the man's lack of...self-control? Self-respect? Self-confidence? Something. I could make a list for both sexes, but have no doubt this would probably alienate all those who have been in marriages/relationships for more than two years. *snort* Would be helpful, but this isn't the venue for lists like that.

Of course, I do have an outlet for these things. I simply haven't used it in so long that it seems...sort of pointless to go back there, at least now, and especially for these "educational purposes" when I am, after all, writing the long version out. Sort of. Kind of. It's bad luck to talk about works in progress so I hush.

Still troubling that grown men have forgotten how to BE men. Maybe the women's movement kinda killed all that? On the other hand, women have forgotten or ignore their girl-side. I'm very guilty of this, and was recently reminded of it (albeit, in an unhappy situation). I'd hate to think that's the reason, but it could be. That, and fear. No one knows HOW to date anymore. We don't know how to begin, much less CONTINUE once we start. We question our moves, our motives, and get so confused that we figure it's not WORTH all the effort. We're all, to a degree, tainted by marriage, or specifically exes. How we make it through the divorce - once the whole grieving process is over - makes the difference in the path we set ahead of us. Stupid, ridiculous phrases TOO OFTEN heard from the mouths of babes:

1. No game players!
2. No baggage!!

Wahahahaha. Number one, we ALL play games; but we should AVOID "ill-spirited" ones. Games are our mating rituals. A sideways glance, a leg, accidentally grazing his...his hand, falling accidentally to our hip...these /are/ games. That phone call, where inferences are made. There have been books written about this very subject, exhaustively exploring why we chose our specific mates. And number two, "baggage", I'd MUCH rather have a man who's lived a little bit, with a full set of Samsonite, than some child with a carry-on. Our life experiences add a richness to us that only living life can. The fewer experiences, the lesser the man and his conversational contributions. Same with women. IMHO. And this is my journal; so MHO is all that counts. :> Whomever coined those two terms, however, needs to be shot. "Games" and "baggage" and "drama" OH MY! Pfffft. Next.

Really, I should give up the ghost. I do have these interesting invites, two of which came from WAY out of left field. Not thinking I'll just suddenly up and change my behavioral patterns. I could. Probably won't. One is WAY too young, too. I'd probably feel more like I'm babysitting than dating. *snort* The other...is...well, yeah. A bad boy, but definitely trouble. The third shall just go unexplained. (And this doesn't include the "group get-together" at a local gay bar. Don't ask.)

At the homefront I have a HUGE LIST of to-do thingies that will probably remain undone for this afternoon, but MUST BE taken care of by tomorrow. I have a victor alpha appointment in a week or so-ish. And potential company. Ack. And I shouldn't stop "my creative project" now that I'm on a proverbial roll. The living room is perfect. The dining room, /almost/ perfect. But I just got paint for both Kelsey and my rooms, and am itching to start. I lovelovelove to paint, even if it's just a wall. Once I realized - through WAY too many webcam screen shots - that my SKIN matches my WALL COLORS, I knew it was time for a change. Although I really REALLY wanna paint my bedroom walls black, I think that might freak Kelsey out. Or worse; give her ideas. So...that's that. Busy, but sort of looking forward to my domestic ... challenges. :)

And I'm out of MUSTARD. One should /never/ be mustard-less. Just sayin'. Roll or no roll, gotta make the dreaded Pubix run. Heh. And YIKES. I JUST received two e-mails from, er, him. *le sighx2* Part of me feels guilty. The other part realizes that he's a grown up and wanted the truth. Asked for it.

PLUS...ARGH. My DVD player /still/ won't work in the bedroom. Imma cry. Actually, it's this old television's fault. No sense in journaling it...again. And again...and...yeah.

I've rambled enough. This was supposed to be a short break from what I'm working on and YET...if you read all that tripe, you just wasted...etc. etc., ad nauseum...that'll teach ya (Ward...lol). :)

See?! I warn you, and warn you, but ya just GOTTA GO THROUGH THE CUT! That'll school yas. ;-)

LJ FORMATTING SUX0RS!! GR.



AWwwwwwwww-ness (although, those two dogs look like they're gettin' all Greek on her or something...).


Comments

( 4 whispered — Whisper to me )
wbahner
Feb. 14th, 2007 01:01 am (UTC)
today I've received three invites for V.D.

Wow, people actually give out invites for this now. Back in the day, that was usually just something someone left you with as a surprise....

Oh, wait, you mean Valentine's Day.....

;)
none_too_subtle
Feb. 14th, 2007 01:05 am (UTC)
LOL. I've /always/ called it "V.D." (ibid, former entries...hrm...need to go back and read what HAPPENED on those days).

I was gonna add that Valentinr thingy, but I'm a little late for all that. *sobs* Plus...I fully expect tomorrow to go by completely unnoticed (or at least by those who SHOULD). :>

As far as inviting V.D.s...these days, you gotta BOIL PEOPLE before even getting close. I'm skeert! Thus, I hang on to...er...the holy grail =) Hahaha. : X
summercamp
Feb. 14th, 2007 01:38 am (UTC)
"today I've received three invites for V.D."
I'm hoping that this stands for Valentine's Day and not venereal disease :P

Hope your bruise is healing!
none_too_subtle
Feb. 14th, 2007 03:22 am (UTC)
See my above comment =)

Actually, it showed signs of going away, then BOOM...today it looks all bruised. ?!?! WTS?

Anyway...V.D. - despite any choice I make or not - is probably going to be...hm, emotionally challenging, I think. Blah!
( 4 whispered — Whisper to me )

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none_too_subtle
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Words.

Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card
Which is blank, is something that he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself;

One must be so careful these days.
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