Ahh, a day off. It's rare that I ever get a Sunday off, so I'm not really sure what to make of it.
I cleaned the house, restored most of its orderly appearance (how two people can mess a place up so much is beyond me) and now I sit here, knowing I should open my novel and get to work. I've only got an hour, at best, before Dana gets home and we leave. We're going to a fundraiser for a high school girl who has Hodgkin's lymphoma. I'm always up for a good cause. Point in case: my job.
I don't know if I've ever mentioned my job here, mostly because it's so mediocre and borderline embarrassing that I like to pretend I have a much more interesting job. I, sadly, work at Burger King. I'm that super-friendly voice you hear on the drive-thru when you pull up to the speaker. I'm that smiling (a very fake smile, mind you) face that greets you at the front counter. I'm also, rarely, the one that is in the kitchen ensuring that you do get to "Have It Your Way." I'm not a fan of my job. I've worked there longer than I care to admit and only stay because I get full-time hours and have enough money to pay the bills. Anyway, the reason why I brought this up is, it's that time of year -- the Muscular Dystrophy Association fundraiser. The time of year that you see those familiar green shamrocks hanging in pretty much every business on the face of the earth. I work at one of the busiest Burger King's here, and our goal for Jerry's Kid's this year is 3200 shamrocks sold. We are roughly at 2500. I am proud (which is a rarity in my job) to say that I have single-handedly sold 860 of those shamrocks myself. This is my favorite time of year because I get to feel like I'm making a difference in someone's life, even though I'm a lowly Burger King employee.
Anyway, moving on. I wrote a little over 800 words yesterday. I'm not sure I like the way the scene I'm working on is turning out, but it's words. And words can be edited later. So, I'm forging on.
I've been thinking about going back to school. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, besides (obviously) writing. I'm about two classes away from an Associates in Arts, give or take a few, depending on what the local college will allow to transfer. There are options. But none really appeal to me. I just know I need to do something, to BE something, more than what I am right now.
So, what do all you fellow aspiring authors do for a living?
I cleaned the house, restored most of its orderly appearance (how two people can mess a place up so much is beyond me) and now I sit here, knowing I should open my novel and get to work. I've only got an hour, at best, before Dana gets home and we leave. We're going to a fundraiser for a high school girl who has Hodgkin's lymphoma. I'm always up for a good cause. Point in case: my job.
I don't know if I've ever mentioned my job here, mostly because it's so mediocre and borderline embarrassing that I like to pretend I have a much more interesting job. I, sadly, work at Burger King. I'm that super-friendly voice you hear on the drive-thru when you pull up to the speaker. I'm that smiling (a very fake smile, mind you) face that greets you at the front counter. I'm also, rarely, the one that is in the kitchen ensuring that you do get to "Have It Your Way." I'm not a fan of my job. I've worked there longer than I care to admit and only stay because I get full-time hours and have enough money to pay the bills. Anyway, the reason why I brought this up is, it's that time of year -- the Muscular Dystrophy Association fundraiser. The time of year that you see those familiar green shamrocks hanging in pretty much every business on the face of the earth. I work at one of the busiest Burger King's here, and our goal for Jerry's Kid's this year is 3200 shamrocks sold. We are roughly at 2500. I am proud (which is a rarity in my job) to say that I have single-handedly sold 860 of those shamrocks myself. This is my favorite time of year because I get to feel like I'm making a difference in someone's life, even though I'm a lowly Burger King employee.
Anyway, moving on. I wrote a little over 800 words yesterday. I'm not sure I like the way the scene I'm working on is turning out, but it's words. And words can be edited later. So, I'm forging on.
I've been thinking about going back to school. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, besides (obviously) writing. I'm about two classes away from an Associates in Arts, give or take a few, depending on what the local college will allow to transfer. There are options. But none really appeal to me. I just know I need to do something, to BE something, more than what I am right now.
So, what do all you fellow aspiring authors do for a living?