June 21st, 2004

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If You've Managed to Get This Far...

Once again, I find it surprising when my boss tells me how much authority I have in the office. I don't feel like I have any. For instance, no one really defers to my judgement or ever says, "This is Melissa, my boss." They just sort of say, "This is Melissa," and leave it at that. Anyhow, I will now endeavor to act as if I'm not surprised by my own authority.

As an update, Fondue night was big bust. And not so secretly, I was kind of glad. That's a long story I won't get into now.

I've been thinking about why I started this journal, and I realized it was so people would read it, think I was funny, and then want to read the books I write. So my new goal is to figure out how to post stories and chapter excerpts that I can link to through this journal. I am not web savvy by any means, so it might take a while, but I'm determined. I know only four people read this journal regularly, but my hope is that eventually I'll have an international following of devouted readers. Also, the big buzz in publishing these days, so I've heard, is that a writer needs a "platform" in order to be worth publishing - in other words, they need some kind of built-in audience that would potentially buy their work. Since I'm not a movie star or a world-renowned harmonica player or even a locally known hog-calling champion, I have no platform. But, if I had a great website with a personal journal, well that's a start, isn't it?

This weekend I sat through an hour and a half of an interperative dance recital to such classics as "Coming to America" by Neil Diamond, and "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys in order to see my cousins, who are three and six, perform two minutes of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." It was worth it. Well, I could have lived without the Niel Diamond number with the pink jumpsuits, and possibly the "Air Force Ones" gold jumpsuit portion. But my cousins wore little pink tu-tus and sparkly hair spray - and the little ones in the number kept forgetting their steps - which may have been the cutest thing I've ever seen.

I have seen Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban three times. I didn't intend to see it more than twice, but when my parents wanted to go yesterday, I gladly went again. Yes, I know that's obsessive. And yes, I still love it.
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Another hour... Help Me... Please...

For the record, when modpixie used to work with me, it wasn't so bad working late nights. For one, she was fun to talk to and never minded one bit when I said things like, "Let's leave at 7:45 and pretend we left at 8:30." (Well, really, why would she?) Anyhow, now I'm stuck working with two nice people, who aren't so good with the "let's pretend we're actually working while we sit here and eat candy" premise. They actually "WANT" to work. What's the matter with them?

One more hour to go. It kills me because right now, I have that same feeling I had when I was kid - you know, when it's still light out but you have to be in bed because your parents think 7:30 is a good bedtime? Only I have to stay at work when it is so nice outside. Sucky suck suck.

I think now is a good time to do some research into how I can post my writing for my future legions of adoring fans. Stay tuned.
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    That Maroon 5 song that won't go away....