Who's Spelling What Now?

Donovan took note that the my link to Live Journal actually says "Liver Journal."

This is an obscure reference to an entry that Dana made long ago about accidentally typing in "liverjournal.com".

Well, it made me laugh.

Journal Weary

Last night as I was lying in bed, I wanted to write a quick note to remind myself about something before I fell asleep. I ended up writing this.

In class on Thursday, my English teacher asked, "Have you thought about being a writer?"

To me, that question is like being asked if I ever thought about having brown skin.

Anyone who puts together a sentence is, by definition, a writer. Everyone that can talk is, by definition, a speaker. A writer is something that I already am. It's not something I ever planned on becomig, but nor do I plan to stop. No, what she was really asking me is if I've thought about trying to make a living from it.

Not that I particularly mind. It's just something that occurs to me. I've noticed a general reaction from people whenever anyone displays a particular talent. "You're good at something! You should go make money off it!" Well, maybe. For now I'm happy just doing it.

If I really wanted money, I would have at least gotten one of those Pay-Pal things. Not that the thought hadn't occurred to me back when I lost my job.

Not that it doesn't occur to me now that I'm getting gloriously soaked every time I drive my window-less car in the unseasonable rain Phoenix has been getting.

Sidenote: My attitude towards the bling maybe isn't unique for a Lopez kid. My mom received that teaching award and they've been showing some kind of commercial of it lately. Another teacher she knew saw it and had asked my mom, "So what did your children have to say about you winning 5,000 dollars?"

My mom had to think about it for a second before she answered. "You know, none of them have mentioned it."

Which isn't entirely true. My mom had put the check in a picture frame. When she had shown Donaldo, he had remarked that being in a frame might make it difficult to cash.

Back On Topic: I look at professional writing like professional theatre. There are the big name lead actors, like Chuck Pahlaniuk, Kurt Vonnegut, and Anne Rice. And there are all the other writers who do other writing things. Editing, publishing, teaching English, journalism, et cetera.

They're like the stage crew running different parts of the show. A comedian like Eddie Izzard doing a one-man...er...woman...

A comedian like Steve Martin doing a one-man show takes a slew of technical performers. One of those pyramid things.

And like theatre, even if you have the talent, the odds of you reaching the top of that pyramid, that level of multi-million dollar stardom are not heavily in your favor. When you decide that's what you love, though, it doesn't matter.

For the greatest chance of reliable, steady work in theatre, you have to look more towards the technical aspects. Have enough to pay the landlord, feed the cat, and all that.

But the gamble and the risk and the pay-off and the profit aren't even aspects right now. I'm writing because I haven't lost sight of what I'm trying to do. The whole point is to understand.

And how can anyone go wrong when they're trying their damnedest to make sense of it all?

Are we sick of the journal yet?

For the rest of you bloggers, you only get one chance every four years to post on February 29th.

Carpe Blogem.

Or carpe LiverJournalem.

Wow. I seriously need to carpe somnus.