Decisions, Decisions...

So this morning kind of rocks and I've only been up for half an hour.  I honestly can't think of a better thing to wake up to than a good review.  If Darren Criss brought me french toast and coffee while singing Teenage Dream to me before a cuddle session it would maybe be just as good, but not better.  = D



Day's like today make it seem ridiculously clear that i am indeed a writer.  Today I feel motivated to keep writing, to finaly publish something and just revel in that accomplishment, regardless of how the book actually does.  I've been writing forever, at this point it's a part of who i am.  I get this kind of high when someone likes something i came up with.  When they ask me to write more i can't wait to pump out another chapter just to see what they think. 

As much as I enjoy writing, it won't exactly pay the bills.  There are a lot of things that go hand in hand with being a novelist, such as coulmnist, reporter, even teacher, but the only job i feel i can commit to is surgeon.  Being a surgeon is just so bad-ass.  Blame Greys Anatomy, but blood and guts excite me. 

Being a doctor will definitely rake in the dough, not to mention the amazing benefits and the cool factor.  Being a doctor is handy in a crisis situation, and who doesn't want to be introduced as Dr. Insert name here.  I know i sure do. 

It seems obvious to me which i should go for, but despite myself i'm torn.  4 years of school is bad enough, but 8... wowzers.  That's almost a decade of school.  Would it be worth it?  There's really no way of knowing.  I think yes, but that's a major and expensive commitment.  Am I prepared to sacrifice another 4 years of life, when something i love can be accomplished in half the time?  I don't know.

At the moment i'm leaning towards a career in literature, but i'm still high on the good review, so I may not be thinking clearly.  Questions, Comments, Remarks on the Supermegafoxyawesomehott Darren Criss?  Leave a comment.

Welcome Back

            Ten days back in Savannah and shit’s already blowing up.  I was mugged for the first time and hopefully the last time yesterday.  Of course it couldn’t be a typical mugging.  The guy didn’t ask for my wallet, nor did he have a gun or even a knife.  I had to run a mile and stand up to a guy twice my size all to get “mugged”.

            So I was headed downtown to follow up on some of my applications because I’m trying to get a serving job.  After I get off the bus at the Ogelthorpe mall a stranger asks to use my Droid X.  Being the upstanding southern gentleman that I am, I obliged.  As he makes his call, he begins to walk away from me, for privacy I presume.  When I notice he’s walking a little too far from me I say “Hey,” and begin to follow.

            When I yell, he looks back and takes off running.  I chase after him.  He’s about twice my size, but not especially fast.  We run for what feels like forever, but was actually about three minutes, I’m kind of out of shape.  Slowly but surely I gain on him, pass him, and get in front of him.  Both of us throw on the brakes, panting as we stare each other down. I tell him to give me my phone back and he tells me it’s his phone now.  I naively call him a thief and demand he give me back my phone.  He tries to walk past me, but I put my hand on his chest to stop him.  He tells me that I had better get the fuck off of him and go somewhere before he beats my ass.  I say fuck you, give me my damn phone.  He punches me on the mouth and I attempt to shove him, but he doesn’t move very much.  He then punches me in the eye.

            When he lands the blow I’m not exactly seeing stars, but I’m disoriented for a minute or so.  Everything’s blurry and I can barely stand.  When I look back up, he’s gone.  I cried like a little girl, not because it hurt, which it did, but because despite my determination and unwillingness to back down, I was beat up and my $200 phone was gone forever.  Everyone knows about humanities capacity for evil.  I was well aware when I moved here that people in the city get mugged, but I never really thought it would happen to me, especially the way it did.  I was helping out a stranger, paying it forward, and he stole my fucking Droid.  An expensive smart phone that I worked very hard for and can’t afford to replace was stolen from me because I did the right thing. 

            Probably the most aggravating thing about the whole encounter is that there is a screen lock on the phone that can only be opened by connecting a series of dots into a design that I created.  After trying and failing so many times, the screen will freeze.  I’m fairy certain that he won’t be able to open it, because it’s not a simple shape..  So not only is my phone gone, but is my mp3 player, my calendar, my gps, and all my contacts, and the person that has them most likely can’t access them.

            To say the least yesterday kinda blew.  I’ve got a black eye and a busted lip as well.  I’m not going to be able to follow up on my applications b/c my face is swollen and bruised.  So fuck you to that guy, and a word of advice to you; when someone asks to use your phone, tell them to go fuck themselves.