Which is, unfortunately, more than I can say for Verano; more on that later.
So! It is almost five in the morning here and for the first time in my life I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to spend the rest of my life. I wish I had paid more attention in class, because one particular instructor gave up all kinds of information on getting your written work published and I largely ignored her. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I wrote some key stuff down and its all stored in a responsible place.
I finished work on another short story today, it's technically the third story I've written, not including On the Situation of the Squirrel. Okay, so that makes four. I can't find a copy of The Sandwich on my computer, which probably means the .doc version is on a flash drive somewhere, and I want to compare the general lengths of each piece. Don't Forget to Program It tops out around 2500 words, and while I feel that I can make it longer, I don't have the patience yet. Maybe let Dad edit it and get his suggestions.
I owe a lot of money.
While he's at work so much I want to charge him with finding places where I can submit what I've got, make him an agent of sorts. I'm sure he'd be up to the challenge, and it'd be a great way to keep us in more regular contact.
There's a playwriting contest and submissions must be in by January 3rd. I have half a play and two weeks to finish it, so that's going to be the new goal. Every entrant receives free feedback, at least, so that's exciting, and if I can tailor it up I might be able to get it circulated in Philadelphia, at least. We're going to go for this.
Verano has me thinking about the future on a level that I haven't yet. A week ago I barely knew her, but I knew that La Playa has a huge crush on her and tried my best to leave well enough alone. Now, I feel like there might be greater forces at work. When I'm with her I feel like there's an old recognition. Did we meet each other, l. each other in a past life? I feel like I've known her for a very long time. It could very well be only the exciting pangs of young l., mistakenly interpreted, as many such feelings are, as something greater. It could be that I'm striking out for a relationship I've already had a few times, and the feelings are familiar because they're a mere repetition of the process. But, I refuse to handicap myself from the outset, and I want a very likely future to unfold without some terminal gloom hanging over it all. She's...amazing. And frighteningly far above me, and I want to raise myself to her level, and it's going to be impossible to do so if I don't start working for myself.
She says Richard and I are kindred souls, and I believe her. She says that the right hand is a reflection of the conscious, the left hand such of the unconscious. Because of Richard both are healing over, with the growth of new skin over my conscious significantly more active.
I think it was all meant to come together like this. In the past week I've quit watching colorful little tetrominoes fall into place, but now I'm manipulating a different set of pieces, and this game promises to be my most important.
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