I've run the educational gamaut - I was expelled from elementary school for misbehaviour, homeschooled for a year, after that two (or was it three? my chronological sense is horrible.) years at Montessori where I was again asked to quit the school for being a little arse, then finished the remaining middle and high school years in public schools. The only thing that all of these places share in commmon is that I was always punished for reading too much; apparently, fifth grade geography is more important than Tolkien, ninth grade literature more important than Bukowski, and drama more important than Goethe's Faust. They've trained me well, over the years - now, I don't read oustide literature in class. I daydream or write random stories and musings in my notebook. Whenever I actually pay attention to something, I always end up doing worse at it than if I had picked it up in my periphials. Go figure.

I had to google NaNoWriMe to figure out that you weren't talking about some sort of strange, possibly Druidic, ritual involving beans and milking a goat. I suppose that counts as a 'no'. I never submit anything for publishing, commercial or otherwise. I've had a few friends bother me into being published locally on a few things, and done a few poetry readings at the Jazzplex for aforementioned friends and the kickass music. Other than that, I stay away; art for arts sake is enough for me, and I'd like to keep it that way. As for the criticism - well, hell, there will always be those who don't like me for one reason or another, and I figure they can insult or keep away as they please. I'll just keep on writing.


It's not so unfortunate that you don't live in Macon - honestly, you're not missing that much. I love Rose Hill, a few run-down factories downtown, and the Monestary, but other than that there's a severe dearth of anything to do for those of us who actually wish to go out and do something. Fortunately, I do not number amongst those socialites and am perfectly content when left to my own devices. Most days, at least.

AIM demands my attention now. One last parting comment: If you enjoy George R. R. Martin, Starcraft, and Half-life modifications such as Sven Coop and Counter-strike, I will give you a cookie as a reward for your good taste.

-Blake

Addendum: Library ladies amuse me. It must be the glasses they all seem to wear; tell me, as an aspiring librarian, is it a conspiracy or just a creepy coincidence that most of the older ladies sport faux gold chains on their glasses?

-Blake

Aye, I used to play AOE:II all the time - never multiplayer though, as that was in the days when I was still on a 56K and had no LANbuddies. I moved on from AOE:II to the third installment in the series, and just recently from there to Supreme Commander. Y'see, I'm a major gaming dork - used to work at EB and all that jazz - so for a time I had at my fingertips all the games my grubby little fingers could ever desire to caresss. As I speak, I have within playing distance a computer (obviously), an original Xbox, a PS2, a Super Nintendo, and a Game Boy Advance - in the other room is a Wii and a 360, and I used to have both a PSP and a DS before I sold them to a couple of friends. You could say I'm a bit obsessed with electronic entertainment.

You are a child of an epoch, a daughter of destiny, and the surrogate sister twice removed from the first cousin of fate! Or maybe you're just a person with an upbringing that's carried over, but that's not nearly as fun to say.

Speaking of books, if your mother does not already know, down here in Macon we have an annual old book sale sometime in Feburary, generally around the tail end of the month - the libraries take donations and add to them some retired books from their shelves, and sell them for prices ranging from .25 to $3.00. I managed to procure 44 books this year for $32, including the complete Dark Tower series by Stephen King, The Ring of the Nibelung, and various others.

As I see that you're on AIM, I am going to cut this comment short, go out on a limb, and throw at you musings from my headbox via instant message. You may blow me up later, for amusement or justice; I care not which, so long as my death is a gristly rain of meat confetti and faerie sparkles!

-Blake