Sort of Pointless

See, I thought this post was going to have a point, but I amazed myself with my own lying abilities. One other honest thing about me is that even though I am an accomplished liar, I am hugely gullible. Hugely. One of my friends in high school managed to convince me for over an hour that she was ten-years-word. I drank it up with the naivete of a child who believes in the tooth fairy (my soul was crushed when I discovered she was fake too; LYING PARENTS).

Anyway, I wanted to say that I have found a live critique group on campus! I saw it being advertised in a features article in the paper that I copyedited tonight. They have meetings on Tuesday, so I will go tomorrow and check out what all of the fuss is about. 

Also, I don't know about you all, but I have a substantial winter break reading list that I am still compiling and will share soon. Because I know you all care about my reading preferences. No, really, though, you should all share what you think is good. Because when we share books, we all win!

Furthermore, I am a fan fiction addict and cannot leave. But this new story is particularly cool for me, because I have a lot of free reign with the characters since they are reincarnations. They get new names, new occupations, and new quirks to their personalities. It's a very fun exercise for me. It's like real fiction, except I get instant feedback! Wahoo!

Excerpt from "Part Two" of Three, a Percy Jackson fan fiction novella

“Yeah, whatever you’re called.” He fixes his tie. “Say, have I seen you somewhere before?”

 

Privately, Rose thinks that people like him are a dime a dozen, and she certainly does not go out of her way to meet douchebags. Obviously, she voices none of this aloud and only shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Huh.”

“Can I get you something?” she asks him, trying not to get derailed by his attitude. It’s one of the first lessons new flight attendants learn: don’t let the passengers get to you. Nobody wants to see a flight attendant lose her cool on the plane.

“Um, yeah,” he says, checking his pager. It’s basically like talking on a cell phone while checking out, and it drives her nuts. How can he not at least have the courtesy to look at her while asking her to bring him stuff? “Can I get a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, please?”

“Of course.” In the beginning, she used to tell people how much it would cost. Now, she realizes the first-class passengers don’t glare at her because they already know, but because they don’t care. She wonders what it would be like to order whatever the hell she wanted and get piss-drunk on a plane. Gods, she hopes he doesn’t get drunk on this flight. She hates dealing with wasted passengers.

Okay, I swear, this weekend I'm going to write original stuff. Really.