Just Write (sung to lady gaga's just dance)

That's what all the books about writing say. Read, then write. Then rinse and repeat apparently. So, that's what I'm doing. Actually, I'm going to enter a contest. The Washington Post is having a "pundit" contest in which you submit a short (no word count, ugh, torture) essay about a topic currently in the news. Then you write a brief bio paragraph. LMAO!! Since when am I brief. The winner gets a semi-regular column or space in the Post. I'm not sure if it's the paper or online version that they refer too, but either way, for me, the aspiring wanna-be writer, I figure it's worth a paragraph or two.

Except that I'm never sure if I can keep it at that length. Then of course, there's the matter of choosing the subject. Well, shit, I work in healthcare and that topic couldn't be more prevalent, right? Sure, you say, write about what you know. Except what if writing about what you know, could get you in trouble with the powers that be. Of course, it would really be more of an op-ed piece. Hah, or even an insider story. Ooh, which reminds me, I am considered an insider by the SEC, so I don't suppose that I could write what I know even if I wanted to, right? Or write. Or Just Write (again with the Lady Gaga Ear Worm). Speaking of Lady Gaga, did you guys see her the other night with Madonna. Yea, that skit wasn't the funniest, but I'll admit I did chuckle a couple of times.

I'm just about half way through with Await Your Reply. And it's due back at the library tomorrow. I don't think I can read half a book in one night. So I'll have to recheck it out again, and hope that I remember where I left off. Sadly, the finances do not foresee a trip to B&N or Borders this week. Or anytime soon. It's about to be the Holiday Season, and I've got to start planning and saving now. Otherwise, come December, the kids (really just Shy) will be in for a rude awakening. They'll think that Santa dissed them. Well, he should. That reminds me, did I ever tell you guys about the time that I really put coal under the tree for my eldest.

Wait, don't yell at me yet, hear me out. He was being such an ass. Spoiled rotton kid. Really, he was. Hell, he still is, only difference is he is a man now. Anyway, I warned him about a million and one times that Santa doesn't bring presents to little boys who disrespect their Mommy (he was like 8 at the time, Jon was 2 and Summer must have been 14 or so. Anyway, he started hyperventilating Christmas morning when he saw that there were no presents but rather a bag of charcoal. Sadists that we are, we started laughing, until I felt a slight twinge of guilt. Hey! He totally deserved it, and if I could, I'd give him coal again this year, but he's 18 and knows it's me now. Anyway, his presents were in the closet, the little shit, and we gave it to him. After he acknowledged that he was really sorry for being disrespectful. I don't think it lasted until the 26th.

Enough procrastinating, I'm off to clean up the dinner dishes and read a bit. I must be getting old because I've been falling asleep at 10pm-ish these days. 10p is the 11p.