To The Candidates, The Pundits and The Redneck
I love my politics. When the season begins, I rub my hands together with unrestrained glee and tune into CNN for my daily dose. Not anymore. This election has tested my love for “the game”. The nasty feeling from both sides has been a damper on my political enthusiasm. I enjoy the sparring, but you have taken this fight far beyond the “sparring” stage. It’s sad, really. Rather than being able to celebrate our differences, we bludgeon those who disagree with us. Rather than enjoying the fact that we live in a country where “differences” are given a platform, we attack, attack, attack. This year, instead of the candidates being the ones behaving badly, I’ve noticed the common guy has taken up the cry for blood. Even my poor mother, who generously opened her home to an old friend, was under constant verbal criticism for her political opinion. The word “bitter” is tacked onto those who believe one way and “rabid” is tacked onto the other side. It’s almost enough to sour my love of politics. But no worries. It won’t keep me from the polls.
To Those For And Against Proposition 8
Here in California, you’ve been pressing hard for the votes you need tomorrow. Enough is enough. I counted. Forty-two times. That’s how many times I saw your ads. Both of you managed to ruin EVERY television show I watched last weekend. From CNN to ABC, even Nickelodeon. The worst part? I’m pretty sure how I’m going to vote and the ads just piss me off. Do these ads really work on the undecided? Just because you say something a million times doesn’t make it true. And what’s with the sign issues? If someone has a sign in their yard, and you don’t agree with their stand, why would you take their sign down? What possible satisfaction can you get from that? *shakes head* This election has stumped me.
Every year, you come around and create insanity. A novel in thirty days!!! Impossible word count goals!!!! Everyone is frantically writing and pushing and INSANE!!! Then, I almost can’t resist. It’s like a black hole that sucks me in and I have a little voice in my head softly saying, “Do it. Do it. DO IT.” But I won’t, damnit. Rules, structure, PRESSURE are all things I don’t do well with. I’m a free spirit!!! I don’t follow the crowd. But damn….it’s tempting.
To My Writer Friends Who Are Doing NaNoWiMo
You’re crazy, but I admire you. Go, you guys go!!!!!
I don’t like what you’ve done to the sport. Kyle Busch has won a ton of races at the beginning of the season, but because of the new rules for the points race, he isn’t even in the top ten. And Jimmy Johnson is boring the hell out of me. I want the guys who WIN races to get more points than the guy who “plays it safe” and comes in ninth. It’s about risk, adrenaline, some strategy. But if racing becomes all cerebral and risk becomes penalized, it isn’t racing anymore. It’s driving around in a circle. You’ve been tweaking this process for years. REWARD THE WINNERS, DAMNIT.
To My Characters in My New Book
There’s only so much I can do. I’m not a damn archeologist. And if I wanted to do this much research, I’d have written a historical. You’re driving me batty, as usual. I’m still trying to figure out why you’re making me find out what evidence there is for human sacrifice by the Aztec. Did you know the internet is crawling with misinformation? Yeah, there’s nothing like emailing a noted archeologist and saying, “I’m a romance writer who often has the word “cock” in my stories. Can you give me information that you went to school for six years to learn?” I’m sure he’ll get right on that. Can’t you just go with something I already know?