I have been aching to blog for days and days, but time has not permitted. There are so many things I need to vomit out, and I will probably be all over the place. In order to keep things straight (…) I will provide an outline—after all, who likes surprises (I love you, I’m leaving. Surprise!)?
Blog for July 27, 2009 Outline:
I. Exciting and Adorable News
II. Exciting and Possibility News
III. Excruciating and Redundant News
I. On July 24, Gavin Bailey Witt was born at 8:30 in the morning. He was 19 inches and weighed 6 pounds and 12 ounces. Typically, newborns are not very attractive. However (this honestly isn’t ‘uncle’ talking—I don’t call people pretty who aren’t, the gay gene doesn’t allow it), he is a gorgeous baby. Really. Therefore, the past days have been filled up with babiness. I know how to put together baby beds, strollers, and pick out a safe and reliable, yet stylish, car seats. My family also got to see the pit bull in me, which few of those who love me don’t ever get to see or even know exists (unless they have worked with me at the residential treatment center or at school). Gavin’s mom bought what was supposed to be a very good baby car seat/stroller at Kmart several months ago. However, when in the car, Gavin’s head kept flopping forward in a rather terrifying manner. The car seat person at the hospital told them that it wasn’t safe. Therefore, we tried to return it to Kmart (the receipt had been thrown away—before the baby was born, the car seat looked fine—too much trust in products sold in America). The clerk and the male manager treated us like crap. Seriously. I can handle many things. However, one thing I can’t tolerate is being spoken down to. Maybe I do have too many tattoos. Maybe my jeans were ripped. Maybe I do have Mohawk. Maybe your fucking car seat is going to cause my nephew bodily injury. By the time we left, I was shaking in rage, had completely gone off on the manager and told him exactly where he could stick his better-than-you attitude, as well as gotten a full refund on the stroller (after treating us like white trash, he then tried to only refund half). That didn’t fly. In addition to looking like white trash, apparently, I also look rather intimidating. Thanks to that and the other manager (thank you, Andrea), we were able to get the money back, and get a quality, un-murderous baby product elsewhere! Anyway, Love, Love, Love, Love, Love, Love Gavin!
II. On Wednesday, I wrote a query email to the Editor-In-Chief of Kensington Books in New York City. This is my dream editor and publishing company. Therefore, I figured, reach for the brightest star you can. Best to get turned down by the best than accepted by the worst (at least at first). His website wasn’t encouraging. It talked about how long it would take for him to get back with you and if he didn’t like your noel or idea; that he simply wouldn’t get back with you, so please don’t email more than once. Feeling mixtures of excitement and nausea, I pressed the send button, letting my idea for the Missouri book fly to its destiny. Seven minutes later, he sent me an email asking me to send him my manuscript! I thought it might be a generic form letter, but when he wrote back a few minutes later giving me their new address, he used his initials instead of his actual name and title. So, not generic. Yay!!! He said it would take sixteen to twenty weeks to get me a result. I am not under the delusions that he will say he wants to publish it, however, I hope. (I’m not under the delusions that Chad will come back and that he still loves me, but I hope.) At least he likes the idea of it, so that’s encouraging. Please keep this in your prayers and thoughts. It would just be so amazing!
III. Saturday, Chad and I finally went to see Harry Potter. The movie rocked. I think it was my favorite one thus far. It was wonderful to see Chad, and horrible. It had been almost two months since we had seen each other. I didn’t look sad, teary, or depressed at all while we were together. The time since, however, the same can’t be said. There are not words to describe how much it hurts to hear the man I want to spend my life with tell me he is signing a lease, changed the Entertainment Weekly delivery address, tell me all about his fun, fun, fun life he is living, and walk away into his house, leaving me behind.
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