12-Bar Original

First, thanks to those of you who sent me such nice emails and comments regarding my last post. If you ever want to know if people read your blog, the trick is to talk about intestines falling out. Mine are not. It's possible that I have a worm living inside them, but they are very much otherwise intact.

Second, I'll go ahead an de-confuse some people by just posting this e-mail reply I sent to someone who had questions:

"Wait, how do you know I'm NOT Stephen King?

Okay, fine, my accent is not nearly Maine enough ("Easporhrt Ahhht Cenner").

But allow me to clarify. I really wasn't plagiarizing The Long Walk. In my head, it was a pop culture reference. If that came out any different, and you have means and grounds to sue, please don't. It had also been a while since I read this story, so I had to wikipedia some of the things I wasn't sure about, and you're probably right about me missing the point, but if I'm going to get called out on plagiarism, it's going to be for that poem I turned in to my 10th grade English class for the Poetry unit, which I stole directly from my sister's high school yearbook. That was legit plagiarizing, and I should be in jail now. This, I feel, was me giving too much credit to the public school system, and unwisely dropping a name like Hank Olson, like it was Mickey Mouse or The Snapple Lady. I suck at blogging. Please still read me regularly so that I can continue to be vague in a public forum.

Much Love,

Renee"

Third, I went to San Diego this weekend for some Sister Time, and I relaxed a little bit about "doing it wrong." It did suck going through the airports, and walking on the earthquake-cracked sidewalks and alleys, and I still haven't figured out if it's even possible to use a cane on a beach, but the point is, I did better than I thought I would in an unfamiliar setting, with people still unfamiliar with what I can and can't see, and the real victory is that I didn't even cry once. (See, Second Day In New York City).

Like many of you wrote to me, I need to just be kind to myself, and let things ebb and flow as they will.

Fourth, I had my eyebrows threaded and it hurt like heck. Let's never speak of it again.