So to make good on that promise to myself that I'll write more, I am going to actually start posting on my blog.

In related news, this weekend, after months of preparation, procrastination, and then trying to find and remember the work I did during the preparation phase, I finally committed a rite of passage for aspiring writers everywhere: I submitted some of my work to a (print) publication.



I've already submitted stuff to a web journal or two, but there's just something different about putting your writing on paper and in an envelope and mailing it to New York. Other than killing more trees, I mean. Email submissions you could do on your lunch break at work, provided you get a lunch break or have regular access to a computer at work, of which I have neither. You can email anyone: your mother, your friends, people you don't know, your dog, Dick Cheney, and then completely forget about it moments later. Same goes with getting published. If I published a poem or short story in a print journal, I could cut it out and stick it on my refrigerator, and then my roommates and anyone who comes over would know that I had something published. But I can't stick my computer on my refrigerator. My little mac book might be cute and compact, but I doubt it could be held up by refrigerator magnets. And nobody remembers what they read online.

They say this journal tries to respond within about 6 months, so I have a while to wait before I get that other rite of passage in the writing world: my first rejection letter.

Hopefully not an early warning about the likelihood of my ever having a writing career, hours after mailing in my two lovely envelopes (to the poetry and prose editors) I suddenly became violently ill. Well, maybe not so much suddenly as over a couple of hours and into the night. And at the time I attributed it more to the cheese sample I had at Rainbow than to my recent writing endeavors. In any case, I spent the rest of the weekend lying alternately in bed and on the couch, attempting to drink fluids and watching an insane amount of DVDs. I have now seen 3 Wes Anderson movies, re-watched the old Batman & Robin movie with entirely new eyes (Holy Homoeroticism, Batman!), and am halfway through the second season of Desperate Housewives. Say what you will about that last one, but Bree Van De Kamp is HOTT. I can't believe she's not a lesbian.

Now that I'm able to eat not only liquid but solid foods again, I'll be returning to work tomorrow. If I'm lucky, there will be no poop to scrape off any floors. On a lighter note, I'll leave you with the DVD moment that made my whole weekend, flu/food poisoning notwithstanding. It's true, some days you just can't get rid of a bomb.