The birthday girl and her daughter from last night.

Yesterday was my cousin Beth's birthday, and I thought I'd indulge myself by posting some pictures. Words to follow; I just wanted y'all to meet the family. Laurie says I go to a birthday party every other week. You might as well come, too.

Casey and her Dad, Jeff.

So, I say to Sean and Heather, "Let me take your picture!" And they fall into this perfect pose. It's very hard not to hate them.

I had to beg my cousin Susan to sit still for the camera. Her fiancee Matt has helpful, catching her as she was pouring coffee. It helps a bit that she's a tiny, tiny thing and Matt's a strapping young lad.

Laurie is in love with my Uncle Jack. Or rather, she's in love with my Uncle Jack's Hair. Most people like Uncle Jack's hair. After I took this photo, he said I should sell it on eBay, because everyone would want a picture of such a handsome man. Any takers?

This was originally a picture of Mom and Casey, but one of Casey's eyes was closed, and she looked like she'd been drugged, so I cropped her out (you've had enough Casey cuteness for the day, anyway). I love this picture of Mom, because she's like me and rarely smiles in pictures.

Speaking of not smiling in pictures, this is why I don't do so. I tried to teach Heather the "Patrick Pose," and I ended up looking like I have the fattest face known to mankind. Luckily, Heather didn't shine as much as she always does, so I can totally blame the picture. It's not my big fat head; it's the angle.

Thank you to everyone who wrote to me about yesterday's entry, and those of you who didn't, but read anyway. The little blue notebook took me by surprise when I found it, changing from my old backpack. I thought I'd find the entries I wrote during the cruise. I had forgotten that Diego brought it to me when I was in the hospital.

Writing it wasn't traumatic...if anything, it made me angry. Angry with the system, mostly. The lack of care when I was supposed to be in a place that was doing me some good. The HMO-sponsored "treatment" that I got (which was a joke). Angry with myself for not stepping up and demanding that I be treated like a human being, not a problem to lock away until it's safe to let out on its own recognizance.

There's a lot of anger towards myself, as well. Well, towards that person who sat there and let all that happen. Who listened to people who didn't have his best interests at heart. Who actually apologized for something he didn't have all that much control over.

But writing it onto the screen helped almost as much as writing it down while it happened; and I'm glad it's there. There's a lot of other stuff in the little blue notebook, as well as the purple hardback journal, and the date book I got when I worked for Godiva, and the journal that looks like petrified wood. I want to get all that into an electronic format, just so it's easier to reference.

I think it's easier to learn from one's mistakes if one's mistakes are searchable.

Enough of the past. What happened today?

Nothing! No thing. Not one damned thing.

That's not exactly true, but it sure felt like it during most of my 12-hour shift. Dan was home with his kids (his wife is away, and they have four kids, so it's his turn to be the stay-at-home parent), Walter took paid time off, and everyone else was really quiet, except when they were irritating me.

It wasn't their fault; I got very little sleep last night. I made the mistake of bringing my laptop to bed with me (which isn't a mistake unless I have to get up at 6am), and I got a notify from Kymm telling me that there were 18 entries posted! Since those entries would self-destruct if I didn't read them right then and there, I dutifully slogged through them all.

It left me a bit cranky at work. So when people were being their usual cranky selves, I had to take many self-imposed time outs.

I did get some good news from Jan today. On Friday, I wrote her an e-mail asking if I was going to get an offer letter (because I'm paranoid and I'm sure I won't be hired if I don't have the documentation for it). Today, she wrote back to me, asking me to call her. I did so.

"Hi Jan, it's Patrick."

"Hi Patrick! So why do you feel you need an offer letter?" (Jan is very direct.)

"Um, well, I, uh--"

"Are you afraid I'm not going to hire you?"

"Well--"

"Patrick, you're hired. [The guy who makes financial decisions] may tell me that I can't have an assistant, but I can hire for the department. So if I can't hire an assistant, I'm still going to hire you. Stop worrying."

"Okay."

"Great! It's going to be fun."

And so I felt better about that. The rest of the workday, though? Boring.

My short story was rejected from Strange Horizons today. Damn that Karen Meisner! Heh.

Actually, I got some really good feedback on it, and it's a story I wrote awhile ago, so it's not too big a blow to my ego. I have a series of monologues that I want to use this in, so I'm going to take her editorial suggestions and go in that direction.

I'm not sure I'm cut out for science fiction writing. I love to read it, but I just can't get the hang of building worlds or changing time or adding magic (except perhaps a little bit of magical realism). I'm going to concentrate on finishing the ten-minute I have on the table, fixing up the office play (a full one-act) and sending those three out to a number of theaters. It'll be good to have something in the works.

After that, I can concentrate on the erotica (yeah, I found out I'm not too bad at writing that) and the nonfiction stuff I want to shop around.

All of this means that I have to find a spot to write for the next few days. I don't think it's going to be at home. More likely, I'll go to the library or a coffee shop or the nap room at work and just be alone for awhile with nothing but a blank screen in front of me.

And plenty of sleep. Which will start as soon as I post this.

I had to make up for that awful shot. Vanity, thy name is Patrick.

Okay, here's my attempt to photograph the moon. I'll give you the moon tonight, baby.