So, school has started up again, and I'm finding very little time to sit down and write about my day. On a good note, that doesn't mean I've stopped writing completely. I seem to be writing constantly, whenever I am not in class. It's a pretty good feeling, even if my blog has just been sitting here. Thankfully, no one reads this, so I don't have to worry about making anybody wait. It just means that probably no one will ever read it and I won't gain any sort of following, which isn't so bad. I don't really honestly want to be known as a blogger... It's just something I feel that as a writer, I have to do. An artist has to have an online portfolio to get noticed in this society, and a writer has to have a blog. It's silly, because it doesn't seem like many people are interested in paying for either of these survices, so now us artists are forced to show our work off for free on a regular basis, hoping someone likes it enough to actually ask for something with cash.
I understand that you can't just assume people will want your work, but it's still irritating when I sit in class and hear people talking about blogs being so important to modern writers.
More good news, I have an interview on Tuesday. I am crossing my fingers, though I am pretty frightened at the same time. I have no state ID, and I'm worried that will hurt my chances. I have ordered it, but it will be another two weeks before it arrives. It's rather saddening.
So, on a kookier note, I did get an interesting letter today. From a correctional facility. My grandmother found it first, which was a damn hoot, let me tell you. She hovered over my shoulder while I read the letter from a 24-year-old convict (who just go in there for speeding), asking me to be a pen-pal. Apparently someone told him that I would like him. He is apparently '170 pounds of solid muskilz', and wants a girl to write to 'not looking for anything more than friends unless it turns out to be more', it is signed 'sweet dreams beautiful' and has pleanty of flowers on fire and barbed wire framing the page... UGH. I'm so creeped out I don't think I'll be able to sleep.
I can only assume this is some sort of scam or a scary rapists-type character. I don't give out my address online, so maybe someone I know did tell him, but I can't think who would. I have knots in my belly.
I hope it's a scam. . .
So that is currently what is running through my mind. I'm keeping the letter, if not for anything else but 'exhibit A' in case I need to file a restraining order. I suppose there is a chance that this really is just a poor guy with four months left in this convectional facility that could use a friend, but honestly I doubt it. I think he's looking for something, or is really messed up in some way. I have had my experience with messed-up guys, and I don't want to deal with another one, even if he's lonely and bored.