My Net Isn't Working Right

Originally I was not going to post again until Tuesday, but I have to do this post now because of what is in the first half of the post.

I owe many bloggers an apology. I have read quite a few blog posts in the past day that I wanted to comment on, but my net is acting very strangely and will not let me do it. So I wanted to apologize for not commenting and post the comments for two of those blogs here.

Both Karyn and Janet blogged about picking a one-word mantra to represent what you want your life to be in the new year (instead of resolutions which I, personally, suck at keeping in any way, shape or form). It really didn’t take me very long at all to know what mine is.

COMPLETION

I want this to be the year where I complete so many things that are hanging over my head. I want to complete at least one of my manuscripts to where I believe it’s submission ready. I want to complete my A.A. degree so I can move on to the next level of my education. I want to complete the manuscript rough draft that I am working on right now. I also want to complete the 100+ book challenge for 2011 where I promised to read 450 books this year.

Today I made a good start on the Completion mantra. Back in November I had helped a neighborhood boy apply to the local Community College where I am a student. He had believed he couldn’t go because of monetary reasons. We got together one night and I walked him through both the school and financial aid applications. Today (Friday) we went up to the school and got him registered for all his classes!

A couple of other Completions will be happening in three months when two of my previous roommates take their GED test. When they were in trouble and moved in with me, I told them that the requirement for moving in was that they get their GED. They have been studying like crazy and asking me for help when they need it, and even though they are no longer living with me, they are signed up to take the test.
Now if only I could get back in the habit of writing daily, I could cross a few more Completions from my list.

As for the second half, couple of posts back, I mentioned I had entered the 500 word contest over at The Sharp Angle. This is the entry I submitted from my new, unfinished manuscript.

Being a ghost sucks. And I do mean it seriously sucks.

I always thought it would be kinda cool to be a ghost and haunt a place or maybe someone I hated like those stuck up B’s at school who refused to speak to “someone like me.” After all, ghosts are supposed to be dead folks that carry a grudge so strong or have unfinished business and so they can’t move on to the afterlife. The world couldn’t be more wrong!

I stood outside Heaven’s gates (which I would love to describe for you because they were so gorgeous, but it seems that’s against the rules and every time I write something about them it gets deleted) for hours waiting for my turn to approach. Don’t know why the line was so long. Maybe a lot of extra people died that day. All I know is when I finally got to the front of the line (and man did my feet hurt by then) Saint Peter looked at me, then down at his book, and told me I wasn‘t allowed in.

“You still have things to accomplish, Anastasia Walker, before you are allowed to enter Our Father’s kingdom. You must atone for ending your life too soon.”

See, here’s the thing: I killed myself. (Stupid. I know. But it kinda seemed like the right thing to do at the time.) Now I was never a churchgoer in my life, but I’ve heard repeatedly from books and movies and friends who did go to church that suicide is the Unforgivable Sin and earns you a one way ticket to Hell. Heck, all a body’s got to do is watch the movie Constantine (and who wouldn’t with that hot, to-die-for Keanu Reeves in it) to know that.

Turns out that’s not entirely accurate. Like with most things, that rule has a loophole and Saint Peter gave me the opportunity to take it and get a second shot at entering those gates. He sent me to this little room off to the side. It looked kinda like a cross between a hospital waiting room and a classroom. The walls were a nasty, institutional grayish white. Chairs lined the walls, but not the cushy chairs of a waiting room. Nope. They were those ugly plastic things that are so hard your butt feels like you’re sitting on a brick. Only no desks attached to them, just a little end table between each chair with magazines and pamphlets sitting on them. Just like a waiting room. No Rolling Stone or Sports Illustrated though. Not even a Redbook or Better Homes & Garden. All these were about the joys awaiting you once you finally gained permission to enter those pearly gates (I guess I can call them pearly without getting into trouble). And at one end of the room stood one of those, I think they’re called lecterns. I’m not entirely sure on that, but it was one of those wooden stands people put their notes on when they have to give a speech or a lecture.

Let me know what you think please.