The State of Seema

I am back and I warn you, back away slowly and no one will get hurt: I am sleep-deprived, painfully and critically so. I'm also hungry. The reason I'm hungry is that my refrigerator is empty. This should be no surprise to some of you. I haven't been to the grocery store in nearly a month. However, it wasn't supposed to be a problem until I left my dinner on the counter top in the Big City to the West -- 3 hours away. Instead, I came away with a big bag of Cokes, lemonade and Ozarka water. This is a good thing; I hear people can live longer without food than they can without beverages and it's a fair bet to say that I'll be very well hydrated from here on out.

I had a writing revelation last night. Ed McMahon showed up at my door and said, "You're finally in!" I think he was talking about a book, but I'm not entirely sure. I was too busy boggling over Ed McMahon in my dream and the fact that he had the gumption to show up without a million-dollar cheque. So, despite the fact Mr. McMahon didn't come through with a million dollars, I invited him and said, "I'm 'in'? Where am I 'in' and how did that happen?" He didn't quite answer the 'where', but he did answer the 'how'. Ayn Rand, he said. "You must go back to Ayn Rand." So now, not only does Ed McMahon not show up with a million-dollar cheque at my door, he also has become suddenly and scarily telepathic -- he knows I've given up on Ayn Rand, that I've stumbled one too many times over her self-promotion and countless examples out of her books. I don't know how he knows I've written Ayn Rand off, but Ed McMahon knows.

I woke up then, after the dream, and realized that this wasn't even a very complicated sign. The sign was pointing west and saying, "Go, young woman, and outline. Go with plot-theme, come up with a climax. In short, young woman, know what you're writing and you'll get 'in'."

And en classe today, one of my classmates was horror-stricken to discover multiple tenses in a sentence and another classmate lamented, after going over rules for cities/states/countries/islands, "Do French people get these right?" My main contribution to class today was calling 'snail mail' les lettres des escargots. Somehow, it doesn't have the same ring to it.

I have over 300 pieces of spam. And no, not the edible kind.

Also, those of you who receive this blog by email, I've fixed the connection problems so the email will start up again. Sorry abot the lapse in service.

And now, dear people, it's time for bed, but in the morning, I shall forage for sustenance in order to maintain the strength to outline my way through stories according to the rules of Ayn Rand.