If I don't get some shelter, I just might fade away...

New fic up on FFN: My Science Fiction Twin. Go read it and gimme cookies. Or shelter, which Mick Jagger informs me is just a kiss away.

Sadly, now I have to remix my opus of Askewniverse fanfic. I recently brought it into my Creative Writing class, only to discover that the story which we brought into the class would be the story we'd edit for our portfolios, which are due on December 16th. I don't really have any changes I want to make to it, so I need to figure out a way to just remix it. Maybe from a different perspective, or just adding in a few new scenes? I could take out some of the rambling from the first part, add more from Kevin's POV, put in some new scenes with Rachel talking about Star Wars with Randall...Dammit, I hate editing, and nobody who wrote a critique gave me any constructive criticism. It's either confusion about the setting (it being a fanfic) or vague things like "I didn't understand it."
So, all of you wonderful people who read my journal: I ask of you a favor. Read The Divine Rehabilitation of Jason Mewes if you haven't already, and then leave me a little comment or an E-mail or something with a suggestion on what to change. New themes, story structure, missing parts...anything. Don't worry if you've never watched a Kevin Smith movie; I need perspective on it from outside of the fandom.
This is what I get for mixing fandom and real life. I should have just brought in that essay I did on "Tommy" and be done with it already.

(no subject)

I've been spiraling inwards, I think. My mind is going deeper at the same time it's hiding from everyone. Mom commented on this during vacation; I used to be so chatty, she said. Why wasn't I saying anything? Was I depressed? I told her that I was just thinking.
It used to be that I had to fill up silence. Now I'm comfortable with letting it go, thinking my own thoughts while waiting for them to speak. I don't know if this is a good thing or not. I'm getting used to not interacting with people. Unless it's online, in which case I say stupid things. Some of the stuff that comes out of my keyboard makes me sound a) pathetic and b) stalkerish, which I fervently hope I am not. I probably am and don't realize it.

I got published in the Central Review. It's a poem called "Seven Seconds." There was a reading today for everyone who was published in it, and I read mine.
I just realized that it's oddly pertinent to the first part of this update. However, I have to go to a meeting, so I shall post it in an hour or so.

"Seven Seconds" poem

So I got published. We had a reading. There was banana bread. I put on jewelry and stood up and read and people clapped politely.

The poem I read:
( Seven Seconds )