Love is a strange master, and human nature is still stranger.
I have always liked that my birthday is the same as Mr. Martin’s as his books have inspired me since the late nineties, long before the HBO series came about. In fact, for a long long time I kept an email of him basically telling me off.
I volunteered at an E zine, and somehow my Editor in chief got GRRM to agree to an interview, and he was my favorite author at the time, and I was trying to make it perfect. I researched him thoroughly, had a list of questions and topics. It was a phone interview.
I thought I was ready, and this was back before cell phones were everywhere, so I was going to use my landline, and I forgot I had long distance blocked to save me from spending money where I shouldn’t.
I started to panic when the time came for the interview, and I couldn’t get through. I completely forgot I had the line blocked. So, Mr. Martin emailed me reminding me that his time was precious, and that I wasted an hour of his life that he spent waiting in his office, and I didn’t get another chance.
I felt like an idiot, but I also was in awe because he was like a rock star to me. I for a long time had GRRM listed as a contact in my email. Finally, I deleted it.
It was an AOL account, so I doubt it is still active now that he is insanely famous. I know a little free E zine would not be able to secure an interview today, and if you read this Scott, I am still amazed you got it back then. It was still an important non event in my life, that I will never forget.
I had an awesome list of questions too. The interview that never happened will be the most important event that didn’t happen to me in my life. It taught me a valuable lesson. You can never be too prepared. If you think you are, check again. And re -check. And double check. Also, your time is valuable, whether you are a famous author or someone writing on the side. Everyone’s time is valuable. And, it wasn’t a waste. I did learn something from it.
She walked down the street quietly, hands embedded into the pockets of an overly large beige rain coat. A piece of garbage blew past dancing along the street to some silent tune while the occasional rain puddle stood showing the sky in its natural mirror.
She sighed. Perhaps she just wanted to hear more than the occasional dripping of droplets from rooftops trying to hurry to the ground in their own wet way.
Sometimes she liked to hear her own voice, it almost sounded like it was coming from some other person. Her voice wasn’t how she imagined it would sound like in her head. It was higher, tinnier, distant. Like an echo of what she assumed was her voice.
She was young, wearing a maroon scarf and a small black hat askew. She had her own fashion sense, it was a bit nonsensical. Part retro part comfort, part a little bit detective movie, and a little bit couch potato. She wasn’t sure who she was yet, or who she would become and the impression she gave was of a whimsical and confused teen who wasn’t sure she liked herself all that much.
She knew she liked the rain. It was soothing when it hit her hat and her coat, it made a satisfying plop sound. It made its own music, a rhythmic percussion of sounds that set a tempo for action or just a lengthy walk.
She loved to walk. But, for some unknown reason, when the rain stopped something about the world seemed dark and gloomy. The music slowed down, and everything just sat wet and bland. Everything was just there, remaining around concrete and water.
The clouds were still overhead promising a return of rain in the near future. But in the meantime she was left walking down a largely deserted street wondering if the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse would resemble this.
Everything and everyone needs water, and rain is the form it often comes from. Rain was life, just like sunlight was. A plant would die without water just like it would without light. The air smelled different after a good rain.
The humidity messed with her hair more than her hat did, and she would stop to readjust a strand that somehow got into her face. It was a constant battle between her hat and her hair and her glasses. There was never a real victor, much like the rain or the sun, hair always came back.
Occasionally she would yank a particular strand out and examine the root of it, before tossing it. It would grow back. She guessed that was okay, after all, she didn’t want to be bald. Then again, since she liked to wear hats, perhaps that didn’t matter very much to her. Hair was kind of a symbol of vitality or health though.
People looked at a girl funny without hair. Everyone would probably make insane assumptions like cancer, or some terminal illness if she lost all her hair. Perhaps it is better to have it, so she can blend into the surroundings better. She didn’t want to attract too much attention. she didn’t want any more stares than she occasionally got for the hats she would wear.
A little attention was nice, a lot of attention was scary. She didn’t want stares, a glance was okay, but a stare would be altogether different. She wanted to be different, but not necessarily a freak.
It was a delicate balance that she might not ever perfect. But she was learning how to be herself and sometimes mistakes would be made.
My site is back and hopefully here to stay. I plan on doing a lot of writing, and hopefully it will be just what I need to elevate my craft. Thank you all for your patience while the site was in hiatus. I appreciate any and all follows and I do follow back as a common courtesy.
I took this week off from work and it was nice not having to worry about getting up early and to have an open schedule. I do feel for those out there that make their own schedules though. It was at times hard to get motivated. I wasted some time, but that was okay.
I kind of knew that was going to happen. It is like the kid who isn’t allowed to eat candy going to a friend’s house and an open candy dish is right there. Time has been like that for me. I never have enough of it it seems, and when I do I squander it like a lottery winner does their winnings.
I am trying not to be too hard on myself. But at the same time, we never know how much time we are allotted in this life. So, it is imperative to make it count.
With that in mind, be expecting some timed writes, writing prompts, and short stories of surprise and wonder coming your way. And, again, thank you. Your encouragement and inspiration is what keeps me posting.
I hope everyone had a great summer filled with adventure and good times! Now is my favorite time of year. I love the way the trees start to change color and it cools down just a little bit. The days are still long and it isn’t cold yet, but it is just right. A truly beautiful time of year.
If you are in pain or in a tough spot, I would also like to send positive thoughts your way. For some, this may be their least favorite time of year.
The people in Houston with the flooding, and the people in British Columbia and Eastern Washington that have been affected by wild fires come to mind. It can be a chaotic time of year as well. One that can offer great change, which also can mean a great deal of unpredictability.
Financially I am in a tight spot, so I will apologize ahead of time if this site should expire on me before I can renew it.
If it does expire, please be assured that it is a temporary blip and not meant to signal an end to its existence. I am trying to make better, smarter choices with my money, and that means paying a lot of things off, and sometimes, that means certain things have to wait. This blog is very important to me, but unfortunately it is one of those things that can wait.
I also suffered some computer issues recently, and of course, I have been working as much as possible. I try to post regularly but sometimes I need a rest. From myself most of all. So, to any that pass this way, good fortune, and I hope all is well with you!