We interrupt this blog, once again, to announce that, holy shit, I have been published!
I am incredibly proud to announce that Every Day Fiction, an online literary site that publishes short stories, has published one of my flash fiction pieces.
I’m not going to post the story here, but instead will post the link – drum up some traffic for them!
We interrupt this blog for a brief announcement; my entry for the Lascaux Review’s Flash Fiction contest is now up!
Here’s my short, 250-word story:
Here’s the link to my post on the Lascaux Flash website – go read more of the entries!
P.S. And there is already someone else who’s used my title, “Salvation”, for their own short story. Mine is #124.
You may note that this is not on a regular update day. Don’t worry, there will be a normal post tomorrow, with another little gem of fiction. I just want to congratulate myself because . . .
I’ve now made 100 posts!
Yay! Go me! There aren’t 100 unique stories yet, but I’m sticking with this, and have now been updating for 200 days.
Here’s a cool picture:
To Do list
1. Figure out dinner plans
2. Do laundry
3. Look up professors
4. Clean dishes
5. Catch up on emails
6. Buy groceries
7. Order more contacts
8. Clean fridge
9. Finish uploading Facebook photos
10. Write more blog posts 11. Send stories to publishers 12. Check up on research paper 13. Email Will about another meeting 14. Find more forks 15. Look up gun safety classes 16. Clean bathroom 17. Work out saturation curve 18. Reimbursements 19. Upgrade bank passwords 20. Practice grad questions 21.Edit novel 22.See sister 23.Automatic investing.24.organize.songs.25.play.guitar.26.date.27.earn.28.sleep….
BREATHE.
1. Make a list.
2. Sort list for ease.
3. Sort list for importance.
4. Start.
Author’s note: As in my previous internal dialogue, I’m spicing this one up by making it a conversation between me and good ol’ Honest Abe. Please note that I do not actually believe I am talking to Abraham Lincoln.
When I got to the bar, our sixteenth president was already sitting at the bar, nose buried in a large mug of beer. I flop down heavily on the stool next to him. “Ugh,” I announce loudly, voicing my opinion of the world in general with a single snort.
Lincoln glances over at me. “Oh, it’s just you again,” he comments without rancor. “You know, you seem to imagine me up a lot for these sorts of things.”
“So?” I shoot back. “What’s wrong with conversing with an imaginary version of the Great Emancipator?”
Abe shrugs back, taking a pull of beer. “Nothing, as long as you pay my bar tab.” He sets the glass down and turns to face me. “So, what’s up, holmes?”
“Holmes?”
“I’m trying something new,” he says. “Just because I’ve been dead for a hundred and fifty years doesn’t mean I can’t learn the new words all the kids are using!”
I decide not to correct him. “Okay, you know all about my work, right?” I begin.
“Sure,” he responds. “You work for Habitat for Humanity, rebuilding peoples’ homes, fixing them up when the residents aren’t able to afford it. Noble stuff. Could have used a few of you back after the whole war thing was finished, going around fixing up the South. Might have alleviated a little tension, now that I think about it.”
“Yeah, exactly,” I say. “Noble stuff. Helping out people in need. Except that’s the problem.”
“They aren’t in need?” Abe guesses shrewdly.
“Exactly!” I exclaim, thumping the top of the bar for emphasis. The bartender glances down at me. I wasn’t originally trying to attract his attention, but I figure I shouldn’t waste it, and order a beer. Next to me, Lincoln holds up his empty glass, waving it back and forth in the universal gesture for a refill.
After I’ve taken a long swig of alcohol, I resume my complaint. “Most of the time, these people that we help are at the house while we’re working,” I explain. “But they aren’t usually doing much! I’d expect them to try to help us, you know, since we’re doing all of this work for them for free, basically no strings attached. But instead, we get nothing from them!”
“Maybe they don’t know how to help, though?” Abe guesses.
“Then they should ask! It’s really not hard, in most cases – if you can move a paintbrush back and forth, you can help out! But instead, they just sit around like lumps, eyes glued to Maury on the television! They literally just sit there, watching TV, for the entire day!” I slump back in my seat, frustrated.
The President considers this for a minute as he sucks the foamy head off his beer. “So you’re frustrated that they’re just sitting back and not working for themselves,” he clarifies.
“That’s pretty much my complaint, yeah.”
Lincoln sets down his drink, already nearly halfway empty. “But hold on for a moment. What do you do when you get home from work?”
“Well, I relax,” I respond, taken aback slightly by the question out of left field. “You know, take off my socks, recline, catch up on my TV shows-“
“Aha!” Abe cuts me off. “So you also spend your free time lazing about and watching television!”
“It’s not the same!” I protest. “I’m doing it after a long day of work! I’ve been productive already!”
Abe waggles a finger at me, in what I find to be a rather insulting manner. “It’s very similar, though. We all need to take time to relax, and most of us choose to immerse ourselves in TV to serve as a distraction from the real world, a place where things really do work out at the end of the half hour.” He pauses for a second. “Well, almost everyone does this. I don’t, first because television wasn’t around back in my time, and secondly because I’m a figment of your imagination. But you get the idea.”
I finish off my drink. “I still disagree. I’ve earned my time of zoning out. People need to work harder!” Lincoln starts to wave the bartender over once again, but I hold up a hand in protest. “No more for me. I’m headed home.”
“To do what?” he asks.
I shout back over my shoulder, “To relax!”
I like writing these. Some are true, some are fiction. Some are me, some are other people. Which are which? Who’s to say? The previous batch can be found here.
You two are so cute together! How did you guys meet?
“Probably about the most exotic place possible – we met in Israel!”
“Yeah, he was in another Birthright group, visiting the same places as us at the same time, so we kept on seeing each other at the hotels at night.”
“I invited her to a party in one of our rooms the second night, and since she was the only person from her group who wanted to come, I talked with her all night so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or out of place. After that, well, I just really wanted to keep talking to her!”
“At each of the hotels, we would meet up in the evenings and talk for the whole night.”
“I really wanted to make a move on her, but I was totally afraid of being shot down.”
“I was kind of hoping that he would make a move . . .”
“And I did! She wasn’t sure at first, but I’m so glad I didn’t let the moment slip away!”
So, how did you two find each other?
“It’s kind of a funny story! First off, it turns out that I lived just down the street from her grandparents, and so we were good friends while we were growing up.”
“Yeah, and early on I actually dated one of his buddies, who turned out to be his distant cousin! So, small world.”
“But the two of us didn’t really connect until after college, when we were both on this week-long mission trip down to do charity stuff in New Orleans.”
“Yeah, and she was kind of going crazy! I mean, we both were. We were all staying in this church, and couldn’t really get up to much trouble there.”
“Once we got back home, though, I pounced on him!”
I never would have pegged you two as a couple! How did that happen?
“First, thanks for the vote of confidence, I guess? We actually met online, though.”
“Yeah, I had made a profile on this site because a friend wanted me to join her, but I wasn’t expecting much. The internet’s full of creeps, you know, and I definitely got some weird messages. But that made his stand out all the more, because it was so nice and normal!”
“We actually chatted back and forth for nearly a month before we met in person, in part because I was on vacation. But then I got back into the same city, and we started hanging out in person!”
“The first few times were pretty cautious, because, you know, I’ve seen Catfish, and still wasn’t 100 percent confident he wasn’t lying about himself. But no, he’s one of those rare people on the Internet who tells the truth!”
“And I haven’t murdered her yet!”
So, how did you meet?
“It actually started off really poorly! I turned around after getting my coffee in a Starbucks, and she was right there. We totally collided and my coffee went all over her dress.”
“Of course, he was in total panic mode. He’s grabbing for napkins and basically rubbing my crotch, while a constant stream of ‘sorry’ is coming out of his mouth.”
“It took me a good minute to realize that I was basically sexually assaulting her. Man, was I red! It wasn’t until I looked up at her that I realized how pretty she was, somewhere through the panic. So I gave her my number and promised to pay for her dry cleaning. I still can’t believe she called!”
“Sometimes, I don’t know why I did. But he was so cute when he was flustered like that!”
How did you meet?
“Normally I don’t talk to people in the dining hall; that’s why I bring my book. But this girl sat down right across from me, and she was really cute! It also helped that she was wearing a very low-cut shirt…”
“Hush, you. He seemed really kind of lost, just immersed in his book, so I figured that he wouldn’t bother me at all. And then I was curious about his book, so we started talking.”
“Anyway, there was this weird promotion going on in the dining hall, where you could take free individual bags of Doritos. They were advertising some new flavor or something. So I asked her to help me carry some up to my room.”
“Getting asked to help steal food is a new one, I’ll admit that! So I helped him. And along the way, we ended up agreeing to get together for a movie night.”
“So Doritos helped bring us together!”
Tell me, how did the two of you meet?
“I’ll admit it, I was super inexperienced. I basically kept on trying to talk to her the whole first week of orientation, and her friend kept on pulling her away.”
“I thought he liked me, but I had always been taught to never make the first move! Plus, you know, new school and everything. I was really shy.”
“We were hanging out together, but I never made that move. Finally, one day, we were sitting in my room, and I actually asked permission! I turned to her, next to me, and asked, ‘Can I kiss you?’, just like that!”
“I said yes, but in my head I was screaming, finally!!”
“I believe my first words, after the kiss, were, ‘So there!’, like I had proved something! I’m still a little embarrassed by that.”
Author’s note: Today, I have returned from a 10-day expedition to Israel. After a very long flight, I simply need to crash, and have no energy to write a story. So, with much sadness, I’m afraid I must take this day for myself.
Instead of enjoying a story . . .
Gaze at this screen. Squint your eyes slightly, possibly turning on a light in the room or tilting the screen back or to one side, until you can see your own reflection.
Your head should be floating in the middle of the screen, eyes open but focused as you strain to view both your own reflection and this text. Your familiar face greets you, the face that you have seen every day when you look in the mirror.
Can you see it?
This face, this image that you see, is yours alone to behold. No one else has viewed this face. When you venture out into the world, each day, whether it’s to a job, to buy groceries, or to simply be immersed in the great sea of humanity, the face that you present to the world is not this face. It is similar, yes, but it is not this face.
Do you know why?
This face is different. This face is ever so slightly off. If you showed this face to your friends, your family, your loved ones, they would recognize it. They would know it is you. But in the back of their minds, a naggling suspicion would tell them that it is not quite right.
But why is this, you wonder?
It’s in the details.
You see, this face you see is reversed. This is not your face. The image that greets you in the bathroom, in the mirror, in this screen, is the reversed reflection of your face. What is on the left is on the right. What is on the right is on the left. (The top and bottom are still the same, yes, but then it would just be way too obvious.)
So smile, as you look at yourself. This is a private face, a personal face, a view that is meant for you and only you to enjoy. The strangers of the world will never have a chance to see this aspect. So go ahead. Make a silly face. Smear your makeup. It’s okay. This is meant just for you.
Author’s note: I have heard that internal monologues can be quite boring. So, to spice this one up, it is being presented as a dialogue between me and Abraham Lincoln over a plate of nachos at a Mexican sports bar. Hopefully this makes it a little less dull.
After taking our order, the waitress gave us both a pert smile. “Your drinks and nachos will be out in just a moment,” she said before scurrying away.
As she hurried off, I caught our 16th president’s eyes wandering. “Hey, Abe,” I called. “A little focus, please?”
The tall, crane-like man shrugged at me. “Sorry, but my wife’s been dead for over a hundred and thirty years,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with looking. But back to you. What’s bothering you?”
I sighed. “Look, I know that I’m a smart person,” I began. “Let me cite some evidence: I aced the ACT, back in high school-“
“Hold on a second,” Lincoln interrupted. “Aced? As in a perfect 36 on it?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “When I got the scores back, I thought they were out of 40, so I assumed it was a decent score. It wasn’t until I got to school that I realized it was the top score.”
“Dayum!” our esteemed leader bellowed, as the waitress brought over our margaritas. “That is impressive, and that’s coming from the POTUS!”
“That’s not all,” I continued, indulging Mr. Lincoln. “I also scored in the 90th percentile or higher on both sections of the general GRE, the 97th percentile on the biology GRE, and the 95th percentile at the MCAT. So, on paper, I’m pretty smart.”
“I’ll say.”
“But that’s the rub,” I continued. “While that’s good and all, I still have issues day to day, just like everyone else. I forget shopping lists, I mess up math calculations at work, and do a hundred other stupid things.”
Abe shrugged as he sipped his margarita. “Everyone does that, though. I bet Stephen Hawking messes up stuff like that.”
“Yes, but that’s just the thing!” I insisted. “What if this means that I’m not smarter than everyone else? What if I just happen to have a small and narrow talent for acing standardized exams?” Lincoln opened his mouth, but I held up a finger.
“Look, I use this as my coping mechanism,” I said. “When I see some pampered idiot zip by in his sports car, I can tell myself that at least I’m smarter than him. When a girl shoots me down, or some guy is just way more attractive than I’ll ever be, I can always use this as my consolation. It’s my defense, it makes me feel better about myself. But what if it isn’t true?”
Abe was about to speak, but we were interrupted by the arrival of our nachos. For a minute or two, there was only silence, as we scooped up corn chips covered in cheese and beans. At length, Lincoln finally sat up straight, fixing me with a truly presidential stare.
“First off, let me point out that I’m just a figment of your subconscious,” he began, his voice deep and reassuring. I could see how he had been elected. “But I think you’re missing the issue here.
“The question isn’t whether or not you’re smart. It’s clear that you are definitely very smart, and you should be proud of that. It is completely acceptable as a defense mechanism, and preserving your self-esteem is worth it. However, the true test doesn’t come from what gifts you have; it comes from what you do with those gifts.”
I nodded, considering this, as Abe finished off his margarita. “I think I see what you mean,” I said. “So I should be happy with the gifts I’ve been given, the way I validate myself to the world is what should be the lasting judge of my success.”
“Exactly!” crowed our president. “Now, I seem to have left my wallet in a previous century.” He gestured at the table. “You’re picking up the tab, right?”
No story today; I just wanted to wish everybody a happy 2013!
Some of my resolutions for the coming year:
1. Edit my novel!
2. Find a publisher agent who will pay me millions is willing to help get my novel published
3. Get into graduate school!
3a. If I don’t get into graduate school, figure out what I’m doing with my life.
3b. Survive crisis of existential dread.
4. Get married, Fall in love, Not get anyone pregnant
5. Start updating every day Keep updating every other day
6. Write down more of my story ideas before they are forgotten forever
7. Win the lottery, self-publish my novel, put advertising everywhere, become obscenely rich, and then consequently spend my entire fortune on Mallomars.
Missing Brains 