I really want to write. More than anything, I want to write. And I am doing some writing, really. It's just not stuff that's aimed at the blog. I really need to just take my black book with me and write more on Take Five, but I haven't been able to find time at work lately. I'm working on my play, because there's actually a chance that, if I finish it before the summer, I might be able to have it as part of the 2010/11 season at the theatre where I've been doing all my stage managing. Honestly, the chances of that are better than the chances of finding an agent for any of my other WIPs (assuming I ever get them edited), so that's where I'm focusing my energy. However, there's just no way I could put that up online, so, well, unfortunately, my readers (assuming that I have any!) kind of get the shaft, and have to put up with reading more personal stuff than I had intended.
Since you've got to read stuff about me anyways, I decided that I would share my earliest memory with all of you!
I must have been about 3, because it was in the Hamilton house. I was watching Sesame Street, and I wanted a chocolate chip muffin for breakfast. My mom got one out of the fridge, and I watched her push the little round buttons on the microwave to warm it up. She left the room (maybe to have a shower? I can't remember). My muffin was still cold in the middle, so I decided that I could warm it up. I put it in the microwave and pressed the little buttons so that I made a 1 and a 0, just like mom did. Ten MINUTES later, there was a blackened little lump that used to be a muffin, sitting in the middle of the microwave. Oops.