Well … based on my hit meter over the last two days, you people aren’t especially interested in my Photoshop work or my thoughts on sub-genres within the horror field of writing. Hmph. See if I care.
So, I’ll update you on what’s going on with me.
I’ve gotten a couple of pretty interesting phone calls over the last couple of days about job openings. I’m not sure where they’ll end up, but hey, it’s something.
I found out one of the (many) vanity publishers which approached me a couple of years ago has gone belly-up, and it’s bastard step-child offshoot is replicating its behavior at even higher prices. So check out Writer Beware if you’re a writer; it will save you LOTS of headaches … and money.
I had the weirdest dream last night. In it, I was angrily scouring the cafeteria of a place I’d worked before. Problem is, physically, it wasn’t the right cafeteria. In fact, it was the cafeteria of a place I dreamed about a couple of months ago. The decor was the same — sort of a beige-y brown color for the floor, with weak incandescent lighting, almost like a restaurant from the early ’80s or late ’70s. While I was trying to get breakfast at five minutes to nine, the cafeteria workers were all telling me they stopped serving breakfast. I scowled at them as I passed by the numerous counters serving different kinds of food, gesturing at clearly visible signs stating breakfast was served until nine a.m., and found a place that served pastries and donuts which they dipped in chocolate frosting. I stood in line, not really wanting donuts because I’m hyperinsulinemic, and found a couple of friends I worked with on the actual job I had in the company where this unreal cafeteria was. (To clarify: I ran into two people I worked with at this company, whose cafeteria this was supposedly but actually isn’t.) I guess they were getting lunch, which made me realize I’d been waiting for this donut ass to serve me for more than two hours … somehow. But the faces of the two people in my dream were exact replicas of the actual people they belong to, which is odd for me in a dream. And I can’t explain it. They wore shirts over their work clothes bearing the insignia of the company they joined when their contracts ended around the same time mine did. They said they still worked at that new company. So why were they in the cafeteria of the old company? How’d they get in? And I teased one of them as he walked away from me about how he promised to call and never did — he was supposed to help me get work and I haven’t heard from him since I last saw him on November 30, 2007. He asked if I still had his number, and I remember thinking (in the dream) that, maybe, he meant it this time, since he wasn’t drinking when he reiterated his openness of receiving my call. I woke up sometime after that, but I did get to watch the guy swipe my donut top-down into that rich chocolate frosting and give it to me on a piece of wax paper. Weird.
My daughter got up seconds after I did this morning. She scared the heck out of me coming into the living room while I was still disoriented and sleepy and trying to get my bearings, because they weren’t the cafeteria of the dream world.
And that’s that. I don’t know if this will be more interesting, but there you have it — a mini-brain dump. (That is, the dump is mini, but some of you will argue the brain is, too. And I don’t think I can argue against you.)
God bless, all.
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