I’ve been absent for awhile. And there are a plethora of lame and valid excuses. But it all boils down to this: I am not that special. I have a handful of blog, Facebook, and Twitter followers. Not everyone cares about my latest contest rejection, the tasty ice cream flavor I’ve discovered, or that my kitten had tapeworms. It’s true. And gross…but the vet bill is even worse.
I guess that I backed away with purpose this time. Nothing new to report and frankly, I’m not an over-sharer. I’m just not that special. My teeth are okay, I don’t have any abdominal issues, and don’t check into every location.
(designed by zonia)
Being a writer is a waiting game. A long, long, looooooong game. It’s worse than a fully-played Monopoly or Risk game. And I’m not special enough to have skipped to the front of the line. I wrote a short story for an anthology next year, received my first “professional” rejection, and am having a ball writing for Geeks Under Grace.
So, no news is NOT good news. It’s exactly that: no news. I have no special headline. I still haven’t met Jami Amerine, don’t have a book contract, and am still writing. But the Lord knows my skills, so I wait.
Until my next post, I’ll be basking in my ordinary sarcasm. Which is exactly the point of this post–I am not special. I’m not fishing for, “Hey, Sarah, God loves you and you are special!” Yes, yes, I know that my mom thinks I am special. But seriously, people, I’m about as important as the color of a shoelace.
And also, my hubs certainly should have an award for dealing with me. I’m sure I act “special” some days.