Abra Staffin-Wiebe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abracanabra) wrote2002-09-20 12:35 pm
abracanabra) wrote2002-09-20 12:35 pm
Writing
So I'm going to be mailing off two of my short stories today, The Radiator Burped and Periwinkle Eyes (those of you who occasionally attend Fight Club might have heard parts of them). It's been a while since I submitted anything...since college, to be precise, when I submitted a poem written when I stayed up too late, perched on a stoop in the Midway district, in a fucked up mood, and just listened to the sound of the city at 3 a.m. It wasn't very good; I'm not surprised it got rejected.
I'm so hyper, now. It's like that feeling when you lean in to kiss someone for the first time. It feels like I've got a 20V current running through my veins. I go out for a break and I damn near bound back up the stairs. I feel like giggling at random moments. It feels like that moment up on the high-dive before you jump. It feels like waiting alone in an airport for your flight to take off to a country you've never been in before. It feels great.
This is why I write.
_______________________________________________
It's my last day at work. I'm training in the person who's replacing the person that I'm replacing. I'm a meta-temp. The poor girl is bored out of her skull (because I'm keeping computer access for myself...Muahahaha!) and slightly intimidated by the responsibilities I've told her she'll be in charge of.
I want to be home. I want to be polishing my novel, petting my cat, doing my dishes, updating my website, filing away my photos, paying my bills....
I want to be waiting for the mailman.
I'm so hyper, now. It's like that feeling when you lean in to kiss someone for the first time. It feels like I've got a 20V current running through my veins. I go out for a break and I damn near bound back up the stairs. I feel like giggling at random moments. It feels like that moment up on the high-dive before you jump. It feels like waiting alone in an airport for your flight to take off to a country you've never been in before. It feels great.
This is why I write.
_______________________________________________
It's my last day at work. I'm training in the person who's replacing the person that I'm replacing. I'm a meta-temp. The poor girl is bored out of her skull (because I'm keeping computer access for myself...Muahahaha!) and slightly intimidated by the responsibilities I've told her she'll be in charge of.
I want to be home. I want to be polishing my novel, petting my cat, doing my dishes, updating my website, filing away my photos, paying my bills....
I want to be waiting for the mailman.