Pop Song

How did I miss Macy Gray's "I Try" for so long? This is great!

Short Pondering on Rejection

So I've been thinking a lot the last couple of weeks about the whole writer/query/agent/editor/publishing-fail debate. Naturally I'm too narcissistic to think about it in terms of other people. (And . . . I'm just tired of the whole thing in terms of reading about it. I don't think we really need to keep rehashing it publicly.)

I've not queried to agents or editors regarding a novel yet. I've sent out two short stories, both of which have been rejected a few times. But should I feel a sense of accomplishment that I'm getting more personal, detailed rejection letters than form letters? Or is that the norm for small and online mags? What do you think? You tell me.

Books!

So I don't have a lot of time, but I just wanted to share with you a great book I snagged for a buck today at Columbia's library used book sale: Ancient Egyptian Medicine, by Cyril P. Bryan. I snagged some other good stuff, too - some on my reading list, some not. I also snagged a few pocket scores to take with me to concerts.

But the AEM book is the coolest of the bunch, and since I'm going to be on campus tomorrow, I'm going to take another look at what they have left. I hope no one snagged the huge book of Greek mythology (just didn't have room to carry that one). We shall see. 

I'm excited because this is the kind of book I've been looking for now for ages. It even has the spells and incantations the Egyptians used in treating disease. Granted, it's been translated from German, which was translated from Egyptian, but still. It has that scholarly, yet not-quite respectable air about it. Just really, really cool.

One of Those Train Rides

So today on the way home from class on the train, a guy sat in a seat in front of me and made a point of turning and staring at my crotch. Literally.

This is the second time he's done this. The first time, I studiously ignored him and continued reading my book and only got up and left when it was my stop. This time, however, when I noticed him staring, I got up and moved. The problem was, the guy was black, and there were two other black people in close proximity who gave me the eye when I got up and moved. I know they think I didn't want to sit next to a black guy. Well, what was I supposed to say? The guy was staring at my crotch?

So of course I come home and blog about it to the world instead. 

This is Five Kinds of Awesome

One for each minion who got to meet up in England. And even though I didn't get to go, I think it's pretty cool that Evil Editor's blog has brought so many people together and spawned so many friendships. And that is cause for celebration. 

I'd Frame This, But . . .

So I got my first check today as a composer. This feels like seven kinds of awesome. 

It was a little bigger than expected and came sooner than expected. Let's hope this trend continues!

How Long Has It Been?

Whoa. Nearly a week without posting. And not because I was too busy, but because I . . . just . . . had . . . nothing . . . to . . . say.

These past couple of weeks I've felt like my well of creativity is drier than the Sahara desert. Seriously, it feels like my insides have been scraped out and all I have left is an empty shell. That's not a bad thing (even though, reading that over now, it sounds horrific); it just means I need some time to charge my batteries. And I have taken some time over the past few days to do that. But we have four weeks left this semester, and we're in the final push, which means I'll be underwater until mid-May. 

For sure I'll get some downtime this summer. But I hope the trade-off doesn't mean that I'll have no income. Really hoping for a video-editing job as a day job through the summer months (in addition to a few lessons I'm teaching and some composing work). But most likely I'll be spending the summer seeking composing work and scraping by. But you know, if I'm going to be scraping by, there's really nothing else I'd rather be doing.

Legion of Online Superheroes

The Legion of Online Superheroes is the brain child of Bevie, and I was kindly invited to share stories. The first story went up yesterday, and in my procrastination not only did I fail to post an announcement, I haven't yet sent in a story. Oh, I am woefully remiss. 

Taking the Morning Off

So this weekend I have only one pressing assignment: two orchestrations due Sunday morning.

I need to revamp a couple of cues for my Global Folk Music class, start working on my final project, catch up with Film Aesthetics, and practice in earnest for an upcoming wedding.

But I have a breather, so I plan to take this morning to READ. 

Oh, yeah. And finish my flash fiction story. Ending pending.

Not One, But Two

SO sorry it's taken me a couple of days to acknowledge this!

Aerin gave me a lovely award:

This blog invests and believes in the PROXIMITY - nearness in space, time and relationships. These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement! Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this clever-written text into the body of their award.

I wish I were in closer proximity with these folks to whom I feel in spiritual, blog-nirvana proximity: Robin, Fairyhedgehog, Whirlochre, Sarah, laughingwolf, Writtenwyrdd and Bevie.  (I left Robin's link off because last time I checked, it was private.)

So consider yourselves awarded, kind people. 

The other award is from Bevie:

Same people are awarded, as well as Aerin. Now you can't say I never gave you anything!

Another Recording Session

First time conducting. Nervous at first, but about halfway through I started to have fun. I chalk it up as another success. Two in one week. Whoa - record!

Now to relax a bit before my lesson.

The Old Neighborhood

Hah. This post SO reminded me of the neighborhood I lived in until I was six.

We lived in a small, neat, brick house on Curdes Avenue in Fort Wayne. The neighborhood was a mix of blue- and white-collar workers, and many couples had kids the same age. We all played together, and got in trouble together, and ran into garage walls as we rollerskated together. My best friend was Chrissy, a shy brunette who I never fought with because she was so nice. (In a moment caught forever by the camera in our kindergarten class picture, I'm looking over at her while she smiles a HUGE smile for the camera. And she's wearing Fonzi socks.)

All the parents looked out for each other and each other's kids. If I was caught doing something bad by a parent in the neighborhood, I knew my parents would find out sooner rather than later. I still have vivid memories of Chrissy's parents and my parents getting together for dinner and drinks, and they would let me sit at the table while they gossiped about the crazy people in the neighborhood. (We had a few.)

My sister and I shared a room, one of those rooms with the slanted ceiling, and we had a television set that sat on a rolling tray. We'd roll the TV into our room to watch the Hardy Boys, and we'd fight over the line my sister always "drew" down the middle of the room because I was such a slob and she was such a neat freak. We had a black cat named Spooky, who ran away several times, the last time never coming home.

We moved to a bigger house in a (supposedly) better neighborhood when I was six. I was devastated we weren't moving to a house where I could get a horse, but that wasn't the worst part. I pretty much hated the new neighborhood, as did my brother and sister. The neighbors were standoff-ish and there was no one to play with. I never really realized it at the time, but I missed the old neighborhood a lot. The girls at my new school were cliquish and mean, and that carried into junior high until one girl's (the ring leader's) parents divorced and she had to move. I was "friends" with these girls, but it was an outside friendship - something they never let me forget. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but I missed Chrissy and all my friends from the old neighborhood. It was just an ache that never really went away, like an old injury you just get used to living with. There was a certain code in the old neighborhood: You looked out for others as well as your own. Moving to a place where that code didn't exist was like moving to a foreign, hostile country where you have to learn the rules without knowing the language.

Whenever I go back to visit my parents, I think about that old neighborhood, and our tiny brick house. Occasionally I drive by it to make sure it's still standing. It's always even smaller than I remember. In my mind, there's a short story lurking somewhere about the evils of "better" neighborhoods and the danger of breaking unspoken codes from childhood. Someday I'm going to write it.

EDIT: On the other hand, I met another girl, an "outsider" like me, with whom I am still close. So it wasn't a total wash.