Well, I realized, after a bit of rest and coming most of the way back to normalcy within my brain, that I forgot to mention a couple things in my last post. And forgot one important thing altogether until just yesterday (it relates to my Tuesday evening rant and my third ado on Monday...also most of Thursday's description). An almost quick timeline of events for this past week:
Monday:
Took Juliet to the doctor; took her to get a prescription; and went by the bank to request a replacement card, as there was a tear in the corner of my debit/credit card making it difficult to use.
Tuesday:
In the evening, began developing signs of this sickness nonsense. Also in the evening, paid a Mission, KS (all of the police there should be imprisoned for at least a year) traffic ticket, for a traffic violation that I didn't even commit...but hey, I can't prove that I didn't run a stop sign any more than the jerk who ran two of them to pull me over could prove that I did, so I paid the ticket--online, since it was an option listed on the ticket. Then I went to bed feeling a bit ill.
Wednesday:
Started feeling like crap, so I went to the doctor myself to get some antibiotics. Also noticed my debit/credit card no longer working as a credit card--only debit. Thought this was weird. Also (unrelated), here's the thing I forgot to mention: when I was about to leave for the bank on this day, I went into the kitchen to take my antibiotics, did so, then came back to my computer to close the internet applications that were running. Apparently, I had built up some static electricity, for when my finger came near to the metal casing of my laptop's speakers, alas, a slight blue spark danced off it and into the realm of computer-world, somehow immediately turning off my computer (usually I have to hold the power button for five full seconds in order to shut it down in any semblance of this manner). It was strange.
Thursday:
Feeling better, for the extra sleep I'd acquired the prior evening. Sleep is good when you're sick, make no mistake. I went to work and had a grand (ish) time of it. Came home, checked the mail, and lo and behold, what should be in the mailbox? A notice. The notice read as follows:
"MUNICIPAL COURT
City of Mission
(some of my personal information)
Date of notice: 3/5/2008
READ CAREFULLY: A WARRANT MAY BE ISSUED FOR YOUR ARREST
You have failed to respond to the citation described in this notice by appearing in court on 3/4/2008 or paying the fine within the prescribed time limit.
Failure to appear on 4/1/2008 at 6:00:00 PM, or to pay the fine 24 hours prior to that time will result in a notice to the licensing authority in your state to suspend your drivers license and a warrant will be issued for your arrest. If you are licensed to drive in the state of Kansas we will collect a reinstatement fee of $50.00 per citation in addition to any fine assessed.
DO NOT SEND CASH. PAYMENT MAY BE MADE BY CHECK OR MONEY ORDER.
(citation and fine information)..."
I was very confused about this, being that I paid the ticket the day it was due and there was no prescribed time limit listed on the ticket, so I figured I would be safe. Stupid Mission, KS, I thought to myself, over and over--it has been a recurring thought in the past, as well, since the police there do not believe in giving warnings, even for the most minor things, like not knowing what time it was after being frazzled by an apparently 2.5 hour job interview while also being unaware that there was a NO LEFT TURN BETWEEN 4 AND 6 PM sign on a street I'd never driven before in my life. Send them all to jail, says I. They're abusing every ounce of authority they have.
Friday:
On waking in the morning, and my head being a bit clearer, I made the connection that it wasn't just the money-hungry jerks in Mission that had been the cause of my payment not being processed "in time." I realized that since my debit/credit card had been deactivated Monday, the payment had not gone through at all. So, tonight, I had to resubmit it. Bah. A pox on both their houses (that is, the Mission, KS municipality/precinct's dwelling and that of the incompetent people at Visa).
On the other hand, my bank did still pull through in a lot of ways...like figuring out the whole fiasco of the credit card nuisance for me. It was also through my bank that I was still able to make debit payments with my card, which did come in quite handy.
Also, I received my new debit/credit cards in the mail today. No, not a typo there. I said cards. They sent me two. I assume the guy who ordered the new one for me (or someone along the line) double-clicked where they were supposed to single-click. So, I gave one to Juliet to use if she was in dire (or some) need of money at any point in the future (well, the future up until January 2010). They're both the same card, so they should both work just fine. Hooray about that.
I've been gradually feeling better, but it's more of a three levels up, two levels down sort of better. I'll get back to normal soon, I do believe. I hear there's things afoot tonight, but have yet to decide if I'm up to going out. It's a tough call. Well, I should do something productive now in the meantime. Juliet is at the gym, and will be back shortly. She usually goes earlier, but she "accidentally" took a nap today. She also drove to Lawrence today and had to pay for the meter, which wasn't quite as expensive as she thought it would be, especially since she left several hours before she was planning on.
Well, I don't want to keep you too very long today. Maybe I'll have something more substantive and interesting to discuss later. Also, I'm not sure what you were referring to with that outdated website link in your comment (Adam). Could you clarify what you meant by that. It rather confused me. Thanks.
Also, anyone other than Timothy interested (see previous post and comments)? I mean, I'd be okay with it starting small, but two people isn't generally considered much of a discussion/literature/writing group.
07 March 2008
05 March 2008
Some Days Are Not Good Days
Today is one of them. I woke up feeling somewhat refreshed, despite the soreness in my throat. Things seemed to just go downhill from then on. Well, I suppose there were a few positive notes in there, but not for how my body is feeling. The illness that's been finding its way around our group of family and friends (including Juliet, Amanda, Jill, Martha, Nicholas and who knows who else...) has finally found me after several weeks of searching. It starts out as a sore throat and gets progressively worse and worse, from what I've heard. So, at the first signs of actually getting it, I decided it was time to visit the doctor (instead of waiting for it to get any worse, since I'm pretty sure I already know what this thing is).
However, I did go to work this morning, and stayed for about four and a half hours to get a certain project done. That project would've probably normally taken me under three hours, but my head started hurting and whatnot throughout the midst of it. So, on my morning break, instead of reading (sad) I went to Target in hopes of some remedial remedies. I found some that helped, but only slightly. Also, as I was leaving, the card machine wouldn't accept my payment...well, not as credit anyhow. So I ran it as a debit, which worked fine. I thought it was unusual, but hey. There is a tear in my card that could've had something to do with it.
So, after finishing the project at work, I left for a 1:10pm appointment, leaving a note for my boss, since for some reason he had disappeared for awhile. Maybe he went to lunch. But he usually doesn't go to lunch until 1:30, and I left at 12:40 or so. Strange. Also, he gets an hour lunch, whereas we get a half-hour. I don't get it. It's not even an option for us, although I have suggested it.
Anyway, in my headache-induced delusional half-stupor, I turned the wrong way and lost myself along the way to a place I used to go at least frequently enough that I should remember how to get there. On turning around and finding the place--the doctor's office--I went in and had to fill out paperwork because I'd changed insurance since the last time I was there (umpteen months ago). Then I went upstairs, which was odd, since I'd never been upstairs before. I didn't have much of a wait, but everyone seemed to be in such a huge rush...I have no idea why. When I took Juliet to the doctor on Monday, they seemed to be all in a rush as well. Until this week, I've never seen doctoral staff in such a hurry--and that's coming from someone who used to only go to the free clinic for medical care.
As I was leaving, their machine also rejected my Visa credit/debit card. Three times. Ridiculous, I say. They said they would bill me, since I don't ever carry around any other form of payment. So, I was off home, then off to the nearest CVS (it was closer than Walgreens, and I like it better overall...this parenthetical reference is directed towards Brett, because I told him I was going to Walgreens) to pick up my prescription. Generic Omnicef. Cefdinir, to be specific. I didn't get the all-out normal penicillin because, as I said, the doctor was overanxious to be done and had asked if what Juliet was taking would be okay with me. I said yes, trying not to be a bother, and trying not to talk so very much as it hurts a bit to do.
So, I go to pay at CVS, and it takes my card immediately. Odd, no? But it did automatically process it as a debit payment, so I figured that had something to do with it. I also began to be suspicious that my ordering of a new card on Monday (the card hasn't arrived yet) had something to do with the aforementioned problems, and that it wasn't just the tear in the card being more of a nuisance than it usually is.
When I arrived home, there was something I wanted to purchase online, so I tried to update my PayPal account with my current card information (since I hadn't used the account since before my last card expired). But, it came up with a display stating that my card was rejected by my financial institution or some such mumbojumbo. I decided, after taking my first dose of antibiotics (I seriously hope this is bacterial and not viral), that I would drive in my dazed state to the bank. At the bank, I completely baffled the teller with the small bit of my story I told her--she was under the impression that things never happened this way and that, if anything, it should have successfully processed as credit and not as debit if the card was acting all screwy like it was. So I talked to a personal banker (nice to have, and I must say I hold my UMB representatives in high regard...at least the ones who work on 87th street), and she called the card company on my behalf...I should have probably just called the company myself, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly, what with this sickness and all.
It turns out that they canceled my card when the other one was ordered, and it was their mistake, and I'm not going crazy. Well, maybe I am going crazy, but they said that this whole declining my credit card business wasn't my fault, which is good to hear. At least I know I didn't do anything so financially incompetent that it would have been my fault. Well, hopefully.
So that should be all fixed now. Well, apparently it is, since I was able to make that online purchase I wanted to make. But that, in joint with feeling incompetently sickly, made for a not very great day.
In other news, I have decided not to attend youth group (in reference to the one I work with as a youth leader...hopefully I didn't confuse you about my age) this evening, for fear of infecting those in attendance, and through them, a dozen or so junior highs and high schools. It wouldn't be pretty, I'm sure. So now, I sit at home alone whiling away the time here. I'm hungry, but I think eating may just hurt my throat at this point. Might as well try anyhow.
Or perhaps Juliet is home. Yes. That would be it. Hooray.
But now she is off again. Off to her busyness and schoolwork and spending time with Katie Carder and suchlike things. And I am here again typing more lines onto a post I already finished. I should definitely go eat now. But we don't have so much food for the making, and I really am not feeling up to going anywhere. I do want to apologize to those of you who have come to expect links from my page to interesting articles and websites. But I never promised that I would do those on every post. So, your expectations had no real foundation, especially if you based them only on my two initial posts. That's not much of a test group, even for modern statistics.
And now, I will go try to get some rest. Maybe I'll go to bed after I find something to eat. Yes, in sickness, bedtime at six-thirty in the evening sounds quite lovely.
P.S. I hate fever-sweat; I wish it was colder.
However, I did go to work this morning, and stayed for about four and a half hours to get a certain project done. That project would've probably normally taken me under three hours, but my head started hurting and whatnot throughout the midst of it. So, on my morning break, instead of reading (sad) I went to Target in hopes of some remedial remedies. I found some that helped, but only slightly. Also, as I was leaving, the card machine wouldn't accept my payment...well, not as credit anyhow. So I ran it as a debit, which worked fine. I thought it was unusual, but hey. There is a tear in my card that could've had something to do with it.
So, after finishing the project at work, I left for a 1:10pm appointment, leaving a note for my boss, since for some reason he had disappeared for awhile. Maybe he went to lunch. But he usually doesn't go to lunch until 1:30, and I left at 12:40 or so. Strange. Also, he gets an hour lunch, whereas we get a half-hour. I don't get it. It's not even an option for us, although I have suggested it.
Anyway, in my headache-induced delusional half-stupor, I turned the wrong way and lost myself along the way to a place I used to go at least frequently enough that I should remember how to get there. On turning around and finding the place--the doctor's office--I went in and had to fill out paperwork because I'd changed insurance since the last time I was there (umpteen months ago). Then I went upstairs, which was odd, since I'd never been upstairs before. I didn't have much of a wait, but everyone seemed to be in such a huge rush...I have no idea why. When I took Juliet to the doctor on Monday, they seemed to be all in a rush as well. Until this week, I've never seen doctoral staff in such a hurry--and that's coming from someone who used to only go to the free clinic for medical care.
As I was leaving, their machine also rejected my Visa credit/debit card. Three times. Ridiculous, I say. They said they would bill me, since I don't ever carry around any other form of payment. So, I was off home, then off to the nearest CVS (it was closer than Walgreens, and I like it better overall...this parenthetical reference is directed towards Brett, because I told him I was going to Walgreens) to pick up my prescription. Generic Omnicef. Cefdinir, to be specific. I didn't get the all-out normal penicillin because, as I said, the doctor was overanxious to be done and had asked if what Juliet was taking would be okay with me. I said yes, trying not to be a bother, and trying not to talk so very much as it hurts a bit to do.
So, I go to pay at CVS, and it takes my card immediately. Odd, no? But it did automatically process it as a debit payment, so I figured that had something to do with it. I also began to be suspicious that my ordering of a new card on Monday (the card hasn't arrived yet) had something to do with the aforementioned problems, and that it wasn't just the tear in the card being more of a nuisance than it usually is.
When I arrived home, there was something I wanted to purchase online, so I tried to update my PayPal account with my current card information (since I hadn't used the account since before my last card expired). But, it came up with a display stating that my card was rejected by my financial institution or some such mumbojumbo. I decided, after taking my first dose of antibiotics (I seriously hope this is bacterial and not viral), that I would drive in my dazed state to the bank. At the bank, I completely baffled the teller with the small bit of my story I told her--she was under the impression that things never happened this way and that, if anything, it should have successfully processed as credit and not as debit if the card was acting all screwy like it was. So I talked to a personal banker (nice to have, and I must say I hold my UMB representatives in high regard...at least the ones who work on 87th street), and she called the card company on my behalf...I should have probably just called the company myself, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly, what with this sickness and all.
It turns out that they canceled my card when the other one was ordered, and it was their mistake, and I'm not going crazy. Well, maybe I am going crazy, but they said that this whole declining my credit card business wasn't my fault, which is good to hear. At least I know I didn't do anything so financially incompetent that it would have been my fault. Well, hopefully.
So that should be all fixed now. Well, apparently it is, since I was able to make that online purchase I wanted to make. But that, in joint with feeling incompetently sickly, made for a not very great day.
In other news, I have decided not to attend youth group (in reference to the one I work with as a youth leader...hopefully I didn't confuse you about my age) this evening, for fear of infecting those in attendance, and through them, a dozen or so junior highs and high schools. It wouldn't be pretty, I'm sure. So now, I sit at home alone whiling away the time here. I'm hungry, but I think eating may just hurt my throat at this point. Might as well try anyhow.
Or perhaps Juliet is home. Yes. That would be it. Hooray.
But now she is off again. Off to her busyness and schoolwork and spending time with Katie Carder and suchlike things. And I am here again typing more lines onto a post I already finished. I should definitely go eat now. But we don't have so much food for the making, and I really am not feeling up to going anywhere. I do want to apologize to those of you who have come to expect links from my page to interesting articles and websites. But I never promised that I would do those on every post. So, your expectations had no real foundation, especially if you based them only on my two initial posts. That's not much of a test group, even for modern statistics.
And now, I will go try to get some rest. Maybe I'll go to bed after I find something to eat. Yes, in sickness, bedtime at six-thirty in the evening sounds quite lovely.
P.S. I hate fever-sweat; I wish it was colder.
04 March 2008
A Dedication and a Call
The Dedication:
Today's post is dedicated to the memory of one E. Gary Gygax.
While I do realize that I'd never heard the man's name before today, I do know that, in his collaborative efforts with Dave Arneson, he has brought many people together in unexpected ways, including some of my semi-immediate family members. Gary and Dave's creation not only spawned an entire subculture of gamers, but elevated nerdhood into a sort of role-playing ideal for many who, before then, were merely shunned and outcast. Although many of them are still seemingly shunned and outcast. But now, as I've already indicated my lack of thorough knowledge on the subject, I will cease this and perhaps allow someone who knows more about it than I do to pick up on the eulogistic banter.
But now, I have a few comments regarding a recent post of that same someone. Timothy mentioned in his blog today that he has fallen into the realm of lacking inspiration when it comes down to novel-writing. And man, do I know what that's like. I have been nitpicking (and even with that, not so very enthusiastically) my own novel-in-progress, and I'm rather certain that I'm at a place a few rungs, a trip, and a twelve-story fall down off that ladder and scaffolding. Why did I put a ladder on scaffolding? I mean, really.
Not feeling motivated--or more specifically, not feeling inspired--is probably the hardest thing a writer faces. Some refer to it as "writer's block"...a horridly misguided comparison. What it is, more or less, is that (speaking in first person, since this is my experience with it) I falter in thought on what I should write next, or what I had intended to write next, or what would work better in the context of what I'm writing. At that point, tangential thought begins its meandering in infinite probable and improbable directions until I give up for the time being. There are some cases, like the aforementioned novel-in-progress, wherein I look at where I left off and am entirely discouraged, because I don't know exactly what should go next. I let my unsureness build into perhaps even a slight degree of despair, and I respond to that, as I normally respond to despair, with apathy. Then the apathy overtakes and enfolds me within its blessed (cursed, really) ignorance.
I can't honestly say that I have looked at that unfinished novel recently with any full-blown intent to work on it. I know that there are some good friends, family, and colleagues who are looking forward to the finished product, but I don't seem to heed that as motivating. When someone mentions that I should work on it, my mind immediately falls back on sulking about how I would work on it if I had the time (even though I don't bother to make time for it). I was averaging probably over 2,000 words a week on it when I first started...and in that case, it was because it was new and exciting (and for a class). But I haven't added a single word probably in months. And all the little "encouragements" people try to give me, although I know how purely well-meaning these are, are having an unwitting recusant effect.
It's not that I don't appreciate the encouragement. I really do need it. But before it will be worthwhile, I need to have started working on the story again. I need to actually be writing in order for others' encouragement to write to become effective. "So do it, then" I can hear someone saying in reply to my nonsense...I only hear this in my head because it was spoken aloud to me at one point in my trying to get myself back into writing. Why doesn't the attempted motivation inspire me to action? Well, I really don't know. It's just how my mind processes things, I suppose. I would like to spend my time writing extensively, and having a job that provides absolutely no time for writing whatsoever is somehow the greatest motivator I have at the moment.
Weird, huh? I have supportive people all around me, I want to do this, it's a life's dream, it would be my ideal job, I'm good at it, and so on and so forth. But none of this motivates me nearly as much as not having the time to do what I would like to do. My current job consists of proofreading for approximately 7.5 hours each weekday (I do get 15 minute morning and afternoon breaks, but I use those for reading whatever book I'm trudging through at the moment). So, there's not much time for me to get down to this writing business, especially with only having a half-hour lunch. Don't get me wrong--I do like my job. Most days. But it's not the job I want to end up with. I don't know how much longer it will be my job. Awhile for sure, because the insurance and benefits are rather good overall. And because I told them I'd stay for at least a year in my initial interview and want to make good on that.
But I am hoping that my writing will take off so that I can build some residual income and be able to afford things without being employed by the corporate world. Sometimes, I wish we could go back to the days of apprenticeship--the pre-Industrial Revolution era. Charlie Chaplin had some quite good points on that matter, for sure. But I do also enjoy many of the results of that same revolution. Maybe that seems unrelated, but here's the link: if I could be a writer's apprentice, I would very much prefer that over struggling through corporate stratagems while trying to tie myself to the unconnected apprenticeship of some of the great authors with whom I will likely never commune in the slightest. My job would be to work on developing my writing skills. Writing wouldn't be a side project. It would be the main, and I would be forced to do it to earn my keep. Maybe that's what I need, after all. Merely to be financially forced to write. But hey, maybe it isn't. Maybe I just need a mentor in the realm of authorship. Or maybe I need to be a mentor myself. Mayhap both?
The Call:
Which brings me to an idea that's been rattling my mental sprockets (notice the reference to industrialization again--in comedy, that's known as a callback) for some time now. I'd like to collect and form a writing guild (or group, if you prefer) of sorts, in the manner of the Inklings, although it won't necessarily entail meeting at a pub and it won't necessarily consist of only males. I think it would be wise for the writers (and those aspiring or desiring to write) among us. I believe I have mentioned this in passing before now, but I wanted to know who is actually interested, as well as any additional ideas for this undertaking--but, as for dissensions, I don't want to hear any of it. So, if you're going to just point out problems with the idea, then keep mum. Right then.
I do suppose that's all I have to say at the moment. Hm...I think that may well have been longer than my last post. I should probably keep this paragraph short then, yes? Okay, I will. Thanks for reading.
Today's post is dedicated to the memory of one E. Gary Gygax.
While I do realize that I'd never heard the man's name before today, I do know that, in his collaborative efforts with Dave Arneson, he has brought many people together in unexpected ways, including some of my semi-immediate family members. Gary and Dave's creation not only spawned an entire subculture of gamers, but elevated nerdhood into a sort of role-playing ideal for many who, before then, were merely shunned and outcast. Although many of them are still seemingly shunned and outcast. But now, as I've already indicated my lack of thorough knowledge on the subject, I will cease this and perhaps allow someone who knows more about it than I do to pick up on the eulogistic banter.
But now, I have a few comments regarding a recent post of that same someone. Timothy mentioned in his blog today that he has fallen into the realm of lacking inspiration when it comes down to novel-writing. And man, do I know what that's like. I have been nitpicking (and even with that, not so very enthusiastically) my own novel-in-progress, and I'm rather certain that I'm at a place a few rungs, a trip, and a twelve-story fall down off that ladder and scaffolding. Why did I put a ladder on scaffolding? I mean, really.
Not feeling motivated--or more specifically, not feeling inspired--is probably the hardest thing a writer faces. Some refer to it as "writer's block"...a horridly misguided comparison. What it is, more or less, is that (speaking in first person, since this is my experience with it) I falter in thought on what I should write next, or what I had intended to write next, or what would work better in the context of what I'm writing. At that point, tangential thought begins its meandering in infinite probable and improbable directions until I give up for the time being. There are some cases, like the aforementioned novel-in-progress, wherein I look at where I left off and am entirely discouraged, because I don't know exactly what should go next. I let my unsureness build into perhaps even a slight degree of despair, and I respond to that, as I normally respond to despair, with apathy. Then the apathy overtakes and enfolds me within its blessed (cursed, really) ignorance.
I can't honestly say that I have looked at that unfinished novel recently with any full-blown intent to work on it. I know that there are some good friends, family, and colleagues who are looking forward to the finished product, but I don't seem to heed that as motivating. When someone mentions that I should work on it, my mind immediately falls back on sulking about how I would work on it if I had the time (even though I don't bother to make time for it). I was averaging probably over 2,000 words a week on it when I first started...and in that case, it was because it was new and exciting (and for a class). But I haven't added a single word probably in months. And all the little "encouragements" people try to give me, although I know how purely well-meaning these are, are having an unwitting recusant effect.
It's not that I don't appreciate the encouragement. I really do need it. But before it will be worthwhile, I need to have started working on the story again. I need to actually be writing in order for others' encouragement to write to become effective. "So do it, then" I can hear someone saying in reply to my nonsense...I only hear this in my head because it was spoken aloud to me at one point in my trying to get myself back into writing. Why doesn't the attempted motivation inspire me to action? Well, I really don't know. It's just how my mind processes things, I suppose. I would like to spend my time writing extensively, and having a job that provides absolutely no time for writing whatsoever is somehow the greatest motivator I have at the moment.
Weird, huh? I have supportive people all around me, I want to do this, it's a life's dream, it would be my ideal job, I'm good at it, and so on and so forth. But none of this motivates me nearly as much as not having the time to do what I would like to do. My current job consists of proofreading for approximately 7.5 hours each weekday (I do get 15 minute morning and afternoon breaks, but I use those for reading whatever book I'm trudging through at the moment). So, there's not much time for me to get down to this writing business, especially with only having a half-hour lunch. Don't get me wrong--I do like my job. Most days. But it's not the job I want to end up with. I don't know how much longer it will be my job. Awhile for sure, because the insurance and benefits are rather good overall. And because I told them I'd stay for at least a year in my initial interview and want to make good on that.
But I am hoping that my writing will take off so that I can build some residual income and be able to afford things without being employed by the corporate world. Sometimes, I wish we could go back to the days of apprenticeship--the pre-Industrial Revolution era. Charlie Chaplin had some quite good points on that matter, for sure. But I do also enjoy many of the results of that same revolution. Maybe that seems unrelated, but here's the link: if I could be a writer's apprentice, I would very much prefer that over struggling through corporate stratagems while trying to tie myself to the unconnected apprenticeship of some of the great authors with whom I will likely never commune in the slightest. My job would be to work on developing my writing skills. Writing wouldn't be a side project. It would be the main, and I would be forced to do it to earn my keep. Maybe that's what I need, after all. Merely to be financially forced to write. But hey, maybe it isn't. Maybe I just need a mentor in the realm of authorship. Or maybe I need to be a mentor myself. Mayhap both?
The Call:
Which brings me to an idea that's been rattling my mental sprockets (notice the reference to industrialization again--in comedy, that's known as a callback) for some time now. I'd like to collect and form a writing guild (or group, if you prefer) of sorts, in the manner of the Inklings, although it won't necessarily entail meeting at a pub and it won't necessarily consist of only males. I think it would be wise for the writers (and those aspiring or desiring to write) among us. I believe I have mentioned this in passing before now, but I wanted to know who is actually interested, as well as any additional ideas for this undertaking--but, as for dissensions, I don't want to hear any of it. So, if you're going to just point out problems with the idea, then keep mum. Right then.
I do suppose that's all I have to say at the moment. Hm...I think that may well have been longer than my last post. I should probably keep this paragraph short then, yes? Okay, I will. Thanks for reading.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)