What turns you on?

Black nail polish makes me unusually sassy. Or maybe it’s all that simmering rage inside of me.

This morning, I was forwarded yet another classic e-mail:

The Greatest Man in History –

J E S U S

had no servants,

yet they called Him

Master.

Had no degree,

yet they called Him

Teacher.

Had no medicines,

yet they called Him

Healer.

He had no army, yet

kings feared Him.

He won no military battles, yet

He conquered the world.

He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him.

He was buried in a tomb, yet

He lives today.

I feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us!

If you believe in God and in Jesus Christ His Son…send this to all on your buddy list…if not just ignore it. If you ignore it, just remember that Jesus said:

“If you deny me before man, I will deny you before my Father in Heaven.”

I sincerely hope that Jesus has better things to do with his time than keep track of which of us mere mortals are forwarding e-mails in His name.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my latest run-in with the Waaambulance. There I was – lying in the street, moaning and twitching. I first heard the sirens in the distance, and they grew increasingly louder as the Waaambulance barreled around the corner, screeching to a halt before me. The E.M.T.’s jumped out, rushed over to my whiny ass with a gurney, and lifted me up out of the pit of despair and self-pity in which I’d been wallowing. “Clear!” they shouted with brisk efficiency.

Thanks, guys. I commend you. Excellent work. I am no longer floundering about in that dark abyss.

Indeed, I allowed myself one gloriously satisfying day of self-indulgent angst, and then I got to work. 24 hours later, I contacted the editor of a small, local publication with a writing sample. A few days later, I met with the editor and pitched a few story ideas. Two weeks later, I’ve conducted my first two interviews, written my first two stories, and am now awaiting their publication in next month’s issue.

Who the hell am I? I’m normally not this, umm, empowered. Granted, this magazine gig is nothing amazing – it’s very small, and I don’t get paid – but at least I’m doing something. I’m not just whining, as I used to, about how no opportunities ever fall in my lap. It’s a step towards some kind of right direction. I want, and need, as much writing experience as I can get. I want something published, no matter how insignificant. I want to begin amassing writing samples so maybe, one day, I can score that dream job with the Gazette (or something similar).

The best part is this: I feel I’ve tended to my own needs sufficiently enough to go back out now and play with my more interesting and ambitious friends. No longer am I sick with jealousy over their accomplishments or irritated by their goals. In fact, I owe them a debt of gratitude for inspiring me, in one way or another, to get off my lazy ass and do something.

Okay, there’s enough “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” in me right now to lead a Republican Convention. That’s rather disturbing. Of course, I also fear that I’m quickly becoming a raging alcoholic, but that’s another post.

In honor of Akira Kurosawa’s birthday…

Who is your favorite film director?