Movin' On Out

The people across the hall from me moved out tonight. I am secretly thrilled about this. Or maybe not so secretly. I gleefully held the door open for them while they hauled boxes to their badly parked SUV. They were decent people, but their pot smoking really bothered me. Maybe they just didn't inhale it properly. Maybe it was just cheap pot. Whatever the case, I would get ill every evening when the smoking started. And now, hopefully, that adventure is over. We'll see when the new folks move in.

Squidoo.com

So there's this site I discovered called Squidoo.com. It's glorious and addictive. I'm not sure why I got addicted to it. Friendster never really interested me. MySpace is something I will never get involved with. But Squidoo? It's like MySpace for cool kids. For nerds. For people who have something to say. Sort of. It's not a blogging system. It's got ads. It can make you money or donate money to any charity you choose. It lets you link to items on Flickr, Amazon, Cafe Press, and literally dozens of other sites. And this could be the addictive part: it's so damn easy to set up. So easy to organize. So mindless. Even I, in a migrainey state, could organize my lens. Oh, yes. My lens. MySpace gives you one page. Squidoo gives you as many as you want. In fact, have a lens for each facet of your life. I have two already. Two lenses. Not two facets. Still working on that one. Go squidoo. Try it and love it.

I Did It

There it is. That's me. I did it. I was there. I stood up. I read. There I am. Reading. I took part. I open mic'd.

So. Thursday, January 18th, was the Manitoba Writers' Guild's Out Loud Open Mic. It's a fairly standard set up: A featured author reads for 20 or so minutes, and then there's the open mic portion where people have five minutes to read their work. Any genre.

Since the Guild has about 600 members, I figured there could be quite a crowd. I was wrong, and I probably should have known better. It is, after all, still a reading. I guess even the Guild has its non-serious members—those who pay the dues but don't take part more than that. (But where were the really serious authors? (Come on, Miriam Toews and Catherine Hunter and Writer-In-Residence Chandra Mayor! I want YOU!) I myself only worked up the courage to attend just last week, though, and I've been a member for a while. Maybe it's understandable, then. Maybe it's understandable that only about 20 people showed up. Okay, I'll be generous. 25.

In the end, it was a typical reading, though people stayed around listening till the end, which was nice. Some people had more experience than others. Some readers wrote their pieces during the readings. I read third. I started too quickly. I wasn't comfortable, like I was in Russia. I didn't have the same confidence. But I read. My first reading on this continent, unless you count the poem I read (not mine) in a first year university course. I read. I was nervous, but I didn't completely suck. I wasn't a complete amateur. Not perfect, not lousy. I survived. I survived the nerves. I heard from the Guild employee present that most people read poetry, a few read fiction. I was the odd one, then, what with my reading non-fiction. Even so, all in all, in the end... it felt pretty good, and it was good practice. I'll be doing this again.

Unloved, iUnloved

For those of you interested or curious or bored, my literary e-journal has launched. You can find it here, or click on the Unloved Mail-Order Bride link to the left. In the future, I plan to release the issue not just in visual/text form but also in audio format. I'll either have authors record their own works or I'll do them myself. The files will be downloadable in a sort of podcast or playlist. I am tentatively calling this iUnloved. Just for kicks. And iGiggles.

One in 12 Informational Interviews Leads to a Job

Next week, I have an informational interview with the editor of Prairie Fire, my most favourite literary journal. Will it be possible for me to be professional? This is my favourite magazine. How can I not gush? How can I focus? How can I keep my head on without saying "I love you. I love you. Prairie Fire is omg the best"? Any tips would be appreciated. Because this is an informational interview, it's not like I can ask for a job outright. Besides, the point of such an interview is to see if the job area is right for me. It is possible, after all, that I won't like the sound of things. And yet... to be involved with a non-profit literary journal and press sounds like the greatest thing on earth right now. I think I could handle it. I think I could love it. Just to be involved in any way would be amazing. And to be paid for such a thing would, of course, be the ideal situation. Who wouldn't want to be paid for doing something so noble, so enjoyable, and so inspiring? Ohhh, I fear I will gush. I fear it will happen.

Riddle Time

She's mostly black. Her name is Miriam. Today I bought cleaning brushes, oil, grease, a mute, and a book to help me learn about her. She also has a safe home so that she does not get hurt. Question: does she have anything to do with the picture I'm including in this post?

Unrelated: The bookstore at the U of M has a draw at the beginning of each term. Fill out the form, drop it off in the bookstore, win great prizes. Or not. The prizes used to be better, I'm thinking. Now, however... $100, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, or a backpack. Woo? Not really. But do I fill out the form and drop it off? You bet! Free stuff! It may be unwanted, but it's FREE! Sigh. Is it possible to be a pack rat without being a consumer at heart?