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I shouldn’t be feeling guilty

Around March or April of this year, an acquaintance asked me if I would be interested in writing for her site.  My response was, “I don’t know what I could even write about.”  Months passed and not a word was said about the matter.

In the months that passed, my acquaintance and I had begun playing more games together, becoming something resembling friends.  In August, I was asked again.  My response had changed: “It’s an interesting offer, but I don’t really know what I could write about.”  Some ideas were bounced around, but nothing was settled and it wasn’t talked about for a time.

Then Hurricane Irene hit, and I was left without power for a week.  There wasn’t much to keep me occupied.  It was time away from the internet, and it was a time well needed.  I had time to think, free of most distractions.

The power came back on and then I went online.  I chatted with some people, got caught up, and played some games.  All was well!  But it was September now.  I contacted my friend and told her, “I want to write for your site, but I don’t know what I could write about.”  We bounced some ideas around, and then I forwarded her an email; it should be noted that she runs a video game site (I am not linking to it, ever), and one of my hobbies was developing games independently.  So the email I forwarded her were some of my musings about game design, and the processes of developing a game.  She said it was interesting, but between my inability to finish projects and the scope of her site, it was deemed to be a bad match.  The subject was, once again, dropped.

In early October, we talked about it again.  Instead of me writing about some subjects creatively, the way a freelance writer might write an article for syndication, I offered to take up a position providing news.  Start at the bottom and work my way up, so to speak.  More to the point, to provide proof that I could write consistently and write well.  To that end, I was given a trial assignment.  Let me tell you about that assignment:

The news item was about the Smithsonian, which is going to be opening an exhibit showcasing video games in March of 2012, and they have a donation page up for the exhibit.  Donors will have their name on display from a dynamic projection.  I was told to make a news story about the contents of this link; all that I’ve said in this paragraph so far is literally all that can be said about the topic.  I was given this assignment because my friend, the editor-in-chief, couldn’t get anyone else on her staff to write about it.  After I submitted my draft of the story, there wasn’t anything said about the matter.

In November, she tweeted asking if any of her followers were interested in writing for her site.  I contacted her then, asking what the deal was with having me write for her.  She told me not to worry about the assignment she gave me; it would have been nice to have been told that earlier.

In the interrim, I had the idea of starting a blog.  My goal was to write daily and post on a regular basis; one of the EIC’s concerns was that I wouldn’t be able to write on a schedule.  I didn’t care about cultivating an audience, I just wanted something I could link the EIC to and say, “yes, I can keep to a schedule.”

When I contacted the EIC in early November, I linked her to my Gears of War 3 criticisms.  She told me, verbatim, “i will very very seriously consider you if you take what you’ve got thus far with this series, and half it, and retain most of what you want to say/the actual point.”

I haven’t heard back from her since then.  It’s a shock, I know.

Now, you’re probably wondering, “what is there for you to feel guilty about?”  Well, I acted pretty irrationally in early October, though I apologized for it later.  But I shouldn’t be feeling guilty about that.  See, the EIC mislead me, lied to me, and mocked me publicly (online, anyway).  Despite acting like a jackass once, she has always been a bitch (a term I do not use lightly) and there is no reason for me to care about anything that’s transpired over the last three months.

So why do I still feel guilty?


I’m Haunted

I am currently following 150 people on Twitter.  I looked at that number and thought, “wow, that’s a lot of people.”  My intention was to only follow people who are relevant to my interests, but-

Then it hit me.  My heart started beating faster.  My breaths were getting shorter.

Relevant to my interests.

How many people have I heard say that?  People who I haven’t spoken to in years, people who left a lasting impression on me?  I don’t know the number.  It’s too high.  I don’t want to think about it anymore or how I ran away from all of my problems.

I’m a coward, see.  I run from my problems.  When the memories catch up with me, it makes me scared.  I am haunted by my own memories.

I never got to say a proper goodbye to anyone.  I just tucked my (proverbial) tail between my legs, turned around, and ran away from the problems.  Ran away from the communities.  So much for the ghosts of Christmas past being nonsense!

None of them would remember me, anyway.  If only I could do the same for them.

7 Comments Made by Spam Bots

Clever Musings gets some spam comments, just like everyone else does.  I went through the spam filter and picked out some funny comments from the first page.  These aren’t necessarily “ha ha” funny, but more of a “so bad it’s hilarious” kind of funny.  And because I’m in a good mood, I’m going to share these comments.  And, I’m going to respond to them.  If the comments don’t make you laugh, then maybe I will.  (I don’t care if you laugh with me or at me, the goal is just to get you to laugh.)
Read more…

A Poem: Swamp

A swamp sits, the waters still.
A river moves, water ever-flowing.

Water will stagnate when still,
With shores becoming filthy, infested.

When rivers meander,
They may touch those squalid shores.
This brings renewal to the swamp,
Although the river becomes sullied.

When the river reverts its course,
The swamp will return to stagnation;
The water will become filthy once more.

Gaze upon the swamp, and see:
The water does not stand still,
Silent, slowly receding.

While the swamp recedes,
The gap between the river grows.
So more must the river meander.

As the distance grows,
The river meanders less.
It’s waters stay the course
Which only they have known.

A curious thought, then:
Stagnant water, circling the drain.
Ever flowing, but remaining still.

Such is the story of the swamp.

I’ve done some work on the blog.  There’s a theme!  Widgets!  And that’s pretty much it.  The important thing is that it’s here, and that I can post whatever I want to say that is too long to tweet about.

I should add categories at some point, though.

New blog!

I have a personal blog now.  But what will I write about?  Whatever I want.  Couldn’t ask for anything more than that.