The Year We Make Contact

One of the problems I realize with me having a blog is that I don’t actually like talking about my life. I like having it as kind of a mental sketchbook, but as far as saying what’s actually happening to me from day to day, I don’t typically see the allure. As I’ve said before, I don’t think my actual life is that interesting, and stuff that does happy is usually just kind of depressing. Nonetheless…

I got my first rejection letter today. Don’t worry, I’m fine, mostly because I’m going to be getting a lot of them. Also it was from an agency I didn’t expect to get anyway. But as far as rejection letters go, it was pretty encouraging, saying " Please keep in mind that mine is a subjective business, and an idea or story to which one agent does not respond may well be met with great enthusiasm by another, and I encourage you to continue writing to agents.  Hopefully you will find someone who will get behind you and your work with the conviction necessary in the current market." 

I wouldn’t be pursuing this ridiculous plan of mine if I didn’t think I had a shot. One of the things I noticed in my last edit is that my writing has come a long way in the last year alone. I might self-deprecate a lot, but in truth I think I’m actually a pretty good writer when I want to be, and that there has to be somebody out there who agrees with me, just a little. The way I see it, it’s just a matter of time. I think this could be my year though, dear reader, the one where things finally start turning around. Where Fortuna’s wheels finally start clicking upward.

It’s a good thing too, because I’ve come to realize how much life blows nowadays. Work has just been brutal in the last couple weeks, thanks to all of those holiday movies being seen by all those holiday families. Much as I love you James Cameron, I don’t much care for having to stay at work til 12:30 because Avatar has to be so goddamn long. There have been days in the last week alone where we’ve been getting over 2,000 people a day, which is a bunch considering we only have about five or six people on the floor to make sure they all have tickets for seats, and as much salt, sugar, oil and fat as they need.

While I’m talking about movies, you may be pleased to know that I will be able to do a Top 10 this year. At the beginning of the year I was afraid that any list I would make is just the ten films I most liked arranged in order of preference, but luckily there’s been just enough quality films to make a Top 10 more than just an exercise in routine. This still sucked as a year in film though.

Getting back to sucky life, my apartment is cold. It’s not the coldest place I’ve lived, and it’s helped dressing in so many layers that I look like a hobo (a warm hobo, though). The place is drafty as hell though. It seems every window and crack that leads outside can be counted on to be oozing cold air. And I thought I was done living in cold places. My childhood home was cold. In the mornings I would sit on heaters, with a blanket draped over me to preserve heat when I ate breakfast. Then there was that chilly bastard a few years back with the 11 foot ceilings and the 6×8 windows. At least the ceilings here are nice and shallow, so when the heat does come on it lingers for a few minutes before dissipating.

And no, I didn’t make any New Years Resolutions. I’m still smoking both cigarettes and weed, because I have to do something to take the edge off of all the aforementioneds. At least I don’t drink (well, on New Years I had to, but you know).

Anyway, I think that’s enough for now. Stay warm.