Apr 05, 2005 17:05
"Erin Korntved never did respond, but I like your stuff (I think your musical piece is much better done than your polemical, though), and would like to chat with you about what you might do for us.
Please give me a call when you get a moment.
Terry Knight, editor"
Hilly shit, holly shit, holly shit, holly shit.
I barely ever build things up for myself, I'm the kind of person who usualy takes the road of least pain and figures that if I just don't put much stock in anything it won't hurt if it doesn't happen. Well, I've been obsessing over this thing for the past week and now I'M SO FUCKING STOCKED!!!!
You have no idea how utterly high and wounderful I feel at this moment. I have been excepted for my writing abilitys by the editor of a news paper, and he wants me to call him and sea what kind of work I can do for them. Holly fucking shit. This is my dream job, the job that I've been wishing for. It just fell into my fucking lap!
I get picked up by Cheri one day and she turns to me and says "hey, there's an add in the back of The Sitting Duck, they're looking for writers to review stuff." I sit down, copy and paste past workes into an E-mail, and BOOOM! algh;lasnvlnalchsoyeoijhr;lkshf;hwoducnsouiehrf's
I repeet. Holly shit, holly shit, holly shit.