Way too excited to sleep right now, for reasons I’ll probably elaborate upon in an hour because I can’t sleep.
(Or tomorrow, if I do manage to pass out.)
So you know those moments when you’re so excited you just need to explode a little? That’s definitely what’s about to happen right here. So if you’re not game for a bit of life-of-Kathy reading, wait for your regularly scheduled reblogging to kick back in tomorrow morning.
Last week ended in a shitshow that was entirely beyond my control and I thought I was going to lose my mind before ever making it to this week. But somehow I made it through last week, and so far this week has been so utterly awesome, I don’t even care how much last week blew.
I have wanted a dog for some time. Pretty much since my family’s Basset Hound was put down in 2002 due to a tumor that couldn’t be removed. But as much as I wanted a dog, I knew how ludicrously and grossly irresponsible it was to get one that I couldn’t financially care for. The past two years have gradually led me to a path of real financial stability - something truly to be cherished in my particular family’s experience - and I decided to look into breeders and find a Basset Hound puppy to call my own. And yesterday, I met him and put down my deposit, and I am SO. FUCKING. EXCITED. that I can’t contain myself. I’m almost scared that he’s not real and won’t feel real until I’m able to take him home. Until that point, he’ll be the background on my phone, and that (and purchasing plenty of puppy-prep supplies) will have to cut it.
I also, you may or may not have gathered from the details of this very website, am currently doing my best to become a published author. On Saturday I find out if my entry into the Pitch Plus 5 contest on Adventures in Young Adult Publishing makes it through to the next round. The next round, for the record, includes a read-through from two published YA authors from an amazing list of judges, one of which may be my favorite YA author, Tamora Pierce. Should I be talented enough to make it through the second round, that then gives me a shot at a five-chapter edit from an agent from the AYAP panel. So, y’know, there’s that HUGELY EXCITING THING going on as well.
Next up, we have my planned-since-July trip up to Sacramento. This trip has numerous wondrous events planned:
- One of my best friends lives in Sac and I’ll get to have a much-needed catch-up with her
- Said pall-o and I will be day-tripping to San Francisco for my long-awaited tattoo consultation with Mez Love of Tattoo Boogaloo (and even more catching up!)
- Both of my sisters call northern California home and with any luck I’ll be able to see and have also much-needed catch-ups with them
All of the above is reason enough to be stoked for the days to come - especially since I’m FLYING to Sacramento from San Diego (fuck yes for avoiding the vortex of farmland failure that is the 5). But then, because this week hasn’t been ridiculous enough, I found out during an important one-on-one meeting with one of my very-superiors at work on Tuesday that I’ve been invited to our statewide conference next Monday - also in Sacramento - and that I might be getting my own store before the end of September. Meaning my stay in Sacramento just got extended by three days and my flights suddenly got comped.
So, essentially, somehow I have stumbled upon a veritable trove of wonderful circumstances, and am thankful on every possible level that the cards have fallen so well.
Plus I am totally listening to Hootie and the Blowfish right now and I snagged an A boarding pass for my Southwest flight tomorrow.
So life is pretty fucking ace right now.
(Time for that Hercules gif.)
There are some really great things in the works right now for me, and I am trying really, REALLY hard to not get too excited in case things don’t line up…but…TOTALLY FAILING AND SUPER EXCITED ABOUT LIFE RIGHT NOW.
When I was about ten, I started writing stories mimicking the styles of classic authors I was reading at the time. This amounted to a handful of three-page word documents lined with nonsense gems like “he brought me fine to his grand desire” (from an attempt at Little Women).
Sometimes, twenty-five year old me will write a sentence that I fall half in love with. Half, because fifty percent of me thinks its utterly beautiful, while the other fifty percent can’t help wondering if it makes no sense at all. Like, he-brought-me-fine-to-his-grand-desire status.
But to be honest I don’t even care. I’m writing new shit for the first time in a long time, and I think I might have landed in the middle of my next project. That kind of excitement makes me give approximately negative seventy-five fucks about much else besides more words on the page.