Category Archives: Musings and Reflections

Salaried Writer, Bitches!

Job offer made, job offer enthusiastically accepted. I’m a writer again!

Beyond the writing involved in this position, it’s a heavy project management job, and it’ll keep my brain busy. It’s the right level of challenge for me. I’m pretty goddamn fucking fuck excited!

This whole road to employment has been kinda stressful, especially since I interviewed. Waiting. And waiting. And hoping. And waiting. Glad to be done. New chapters are on the horizon. :)

Humongous thanks to Trent Evans for the writing reference. Check him out if you haven’t already. Self-employed people don’t have a whole lot of co-worker/supervisory references, but today I thought, hey! What about someone I’ve edited with? Boom. He was the final step, and about ten minutes after he made the call, I had the offer. Tip of the hat to you, buddy.

More thanks to N, for helping me gain the skills I have today (and for the second reference!). Pretty sure my project management history impressed the hell out of the interview team. Zoom!

Hugs to everyone who will take a hug, because I’m feeling very huggy today. Wish me luck. :)

xoxo
Sadey

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Twelve Year Old Writer

When I was in eighth grade, my English teacher decided me and a friend of mine were advanced enough to basically skip the year. Instead of attending class, we were sent to the library to spend our time writing short stories and being goofballs.

I’ve wondered about those stories; we wrote quite a few. But alas, this was in the day of floppy disks and no cloud storage, so most of them are gone forever. Sadface!

However, today, while sorting through some of my old shit, I found one! Here you go, readers…one of my first works, co-written with my friend:

Spring

The small bunny nibbled on the fresh green shots of grass. It hopped along the little brook that was now more like a stream because it was spring. Its tiny tongue lapped up the clean, clear water to wash down its meal.

BANG!!!!! BANG-BANG!!!!!

The bunny dashed through the woods, dodging between trees and roots that stuck up from the ground. Mommy. Mommy! Where are you? Mommy!!!!!

BANG!!!!!!

Little Bunny tripped on a root, fell to the ground, and whimpered a small last whimper. It looked up with its little blue eyes and saw a barrel from a shotgun pointing at its little heart.

“You’re dead now, you schtinking varmit.”

“Way to go pops. Ya finally got the little bugger,” yelled the young whipper snapper from across the stream.

Little Bunny’s forlorn face looked sadly up at the old geezer, who’s garlicy breath was enough to wipe out the rabbit itself. He didn’t even need to use the big, mean, and nasty shotgun.

“Hey boy, run on home, tell yer ma we’ll be having rabbet stew tanite.” He grinned and looked at the bunny with his evil eyes.

Little bunny shook with fear. Where’s mommy? he thought.

The man picked up Little Bunny by the scruff of his neck, and threw him into a bag hanging around his waist. The bunny looked up at the little bit of light that shown in from the opening. Hey, maybe I could fit through that, he thought. He tried to claw out and climb to the opening of the bag, but the man started walking back to the house. Little Bunny plunged back into the depths of the deep, dark, burlap sack.

“Hey, pops, can I shoot ‘im?”

“Naw boy, its already dead. You can help your maw cut it up though.”

Little Bunny gasped from inside the bag. They thought he was dead. They wouldn’t even think he could escape now. He had to try, had to get out somehow, he had to find mommy.

With a bump he knew that the old man had dropped him to the ground. The opening looked big enough for him to fit through. He dragged himself out of the bag, and rested on the soft grass. He was out. He was going to live. Mommy, he had to find mommy.

Then he looked up. Hanging from the black roof of the big barn was mommy’s frail, little body, covered in blood. Mommy!

“Pa, I thought you said he was dead,” yelled the young boy as he watched the bunny squirm out of the sack.

BANG!!!!

“Well, he is now, no need to worry pops.”

###

Morbid little fuck, wasn’t I? Nevermind that no one would hunt rabbit with a shotgun…I was twelve, so we can suspend our disbelief a bit more than normal. :)

xoxo
Sadey

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Young Adult

I’ve been diving into the world of Young Adult fiction.

It started with Twilight. I’m not one to slam writers, so I will say that the author must’ve done something right…right? I mean, the books went viral, the movies were a huge success, and teenagers all around the globe still engage in the battle of who should steal our protagonist’s heart: Team Edward vs. Team Jacob. It was a smashing hit.

But oh, the adverbs! She whispered softly. He murmured feverishly. She shouted angrily! Cringe.

I read Twilight as research, and got through 2.5 books in the series before losing interest. Quick read, cute story, but kinda creepy. Edward, the vampire, watches Becca as she sleeps–for like, a long time, before admitting his sin. Instead of reacting in anger, like a normal human being, this just makes her swoon harder.

My research concludes as: This book went viral because it’s simple and romantic. It’s simple writing, easy reading, and just outside of the normal romance genre. We have werewolves and vampires, oh my! The mousy, pale heroine, who surely shouldn’t attract such incredible male attention, does indeed capture the hearts of not one, but (as of the third book) three gorgeous guys. Wouldn’t we all love to be her? To be the quiet girl who doesn’t seek attention, or expect it, but receives it anyway? Who doesn’t want to be wanted?

After I tabled Twilight (I got what I needed, and since I found myself not really caring about what team I’d affiliate with, blah…moving on), I started reading some decent YA fiction. It’s kinda fun. Also, it gives me a sense of accomplishment to finish a book, and I can read this stuff fast. :)

My favorite thus far is The Illuminated Adventures of Flora & Ulysses. I recommend it.

Enjoy the rest of your weekends, lovelies! Thank you for your comments, emails, and general support. I <3 you all.

xoxo
Sadey

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Friends are a funny thing.

Being all depressed and such, I’ve kinda kept to myself since my return to the midwest…

Yet, small towns are small, and I ran into a friend accidentally. I told her I was dealing with some medical shit, and would like to be in touch.

Haven’t heard from her since. She may be slightly peeved that I have been around since May and haven’t tried to talk to her…

Another friend knows I’m in town and is just straight up pissed off at my lack of contact. I believe the last text message was: “You suck.”

Truth? I don’t care about them. Or anyone. I just can’t. I don’t, at the moment, have the emotional capacity to give two fucks, or even one fuck, about random requests for socializing. Do I want them to be happy and healthy? Yes! Do I want to be a part of that? Not so much. For the time being, I just gotta be solo.

I’d like to think that friends will stick with me through this, but realistically I know I’m gonna lose a few. Adios, muchachos…que les vayan bien.

xoxo
Sadey

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Toad Monsters

I had about 40 instances of Notepad open on my computer (no hyperbole). Whenever I have a random thought, I tend to type it up quickly in Notepad, and then I forget about it.

I started closing windows today because my computer, while magnificent, is not capable of having three hundred things open at once. With my notes, I deleted most of them and combined any writing notes into one document. This one gets deleted from my computer, but will live on here in the blogosphere for eternity, because seriously, what the fuck was I thinking…?

a friend of mine tells me when i want to go to sleep, i should count down from 1000.
short attention span,i do 100.
but then around 20 or so i start making up random scenarios.
like a toad monster who is eating the numbers..
then i kinda zone out and the toad monster eats the numbers.

I have no idea.

xoxo
Sadey

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The First Untitled Blog Entry Because Fuck You, Titles.

I do not miss Austin.

I went back this week to clean the apartment and pack the things. I did a good job of accumulating quite a lot of shit during my short stint living in Texas. And, as predicted by my past behavior, I procrastinated cleaning and packing until I had approximately five hours left in my three days of allotted time. Somehow I always manage to just barely be ready to go by the time my ride shows up. All of my things are now bagged and boxed and sitting in my closet, to be moved next week.

On my way from my apartment to the airport, I realized I may never see Austin again.

Which is very fine and causes me zero cares. Good riddance, to the city of broken relationships, hot as fucking fuck weather, and zero Sadey-friends.

I’m applying for a couple of jobs within the company I’ve been temping for. Cross your fingers for me! I’ve come to a major realization: Being a self-employed author is feasible, and I could totally do it if I actually wrote. However, as an introverted person, working alone and living alone, this option isn’t viable unless I want to be very, very unhappy and potentially dead.

Writing will be my hobby. If I manage to develop a social circle and maintain a few relationships, I might consider going back to self-employedness in a year or two. But, man…going to work every day and being forced to interact with people has helped me immensely. My depression hasn’t vanished, but it feels lighter, and I no longer want to suffocate myself in a turkey oven bag.

One of the positions I’m going for is an admin assistant gig, and would leave my brain with plenty of extra space to think up smutty stories. The other position is actually a writing job, which I’d prefer because it pays more, but I’m worried that’ll tap me out on writing and make me not want to write during my off time. Which would be very sad for all the Sadey stories that I’m holding hostage in my brain. Those stories want, so badly, to escape and be shared. They want to become the masterbatory material of hundreds, no!, thousands of hornballs who’re seeking quality wanking material.

And considering I’m looking for purpose in my life, I’d say that creating decent smut is a damn good start. Our world is really lacking in pornography.

Right? RIGHT?!

Hugs and kisses, belts and switches!

xoxo
Sadey

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Sadey Is Alive

Apparently some people were curious about that. I live!

Right now, I’m sitting in a cute coffee shop in a tiny town in Wisconsin, listening to their bluegrass music and the hum of the espresso machine and clanking of dishes and it feels familiar and distant. Because a year ago, though in a different location, the same sounds and smells were a daily thing.

I’m not sure how I’ll look back on this period of my life. I wonder how much damage is irreparable. I’m curious if I’ll ever manage to have a relationship again, or a friendship, but the odd thing is, I don’t miss human connection anymore. I used to feel the ache of loneliness. Sitting alone in a cafe, I’d observe groups of friends interacting with one another and feel a pang of jealousy. Now, I observe them with a faint sense of wonder. What motivates them to do that?

Have you ever heard of tulpas? I read about them recently, and realized I had a tulpa. I didn’t know his name, but he was there, every night, for quite some time. He comforted me as I fell asleep. There were odd little details about him: He worked the third shift, so he left after I fell asleep. I don’t know where he worked. He had a short beard, rusty-brown hair. Nordic looking. He had a big smile and he liked to laugh.

He left. When my depression took a turn–not for the better or for the worse, just a slight shift–he disappeared. Out of curiosity, I’ve tried to bring him back a couple of times, but I can’t. He’s gone. I don’t miss him. But I wonder why he left.

xoxo
Sadey

 

 

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