Short Story Contest

So, I'm just sitting here on the bathroom floor. I have no idea why. There are plenty of other much more comfortable place. But alas, I'm on a tile floor next to the toilet, which smells neither of filth nor cleanliness. Odd.

Anyway, rambling aside, the dog is in the kitchen, sleeping. I'm supposed to be watching her. I will after this post. I'm going to Buffalo Wild Wings today and to see Ashley and then watch a movie afterwards. I just recently sent out my short story to her for correction. I'm super excited because I rather like this story.

Anyway, to give some information on it, I'm not even sure how this story came about. It just ... appeared. Then again, don't most great stories? Stephenie Meyer, of Twilight fame, claimed that the scene where Bella and Edward are in the forest lying there, him glittering away, came in a dream. I'm wondering if she created him from imagination, or she actually saw his face before. I read somewhere that the brain can not make up a face in a dream, you have to have seen it somewhere: in passing, every day, etc. So, if she didn't see it in real life, she must have created it from thought. But if she didn't know who he was until that dream, then that means an ACTUAL EDWARD exists.

Just a passing thought.

Anyway, tangent aside, I sent my story off. It's more or less a comment on the modernized society and how most people never seem to "stop and smell the flowers," or they are too caught up to try something new. I'm a lot like this man, whom I named Sam, in some regards. I'm not very adventurous unless it comes to food. but Sam isn't adventurous in that regard, either. He's very strictly regulated by time. I think that people should really enjoy life, because once it's gone, it's gone. Anyway, Sam doesn't even seem fazed that there is anything wrong. In fact, it's as if all emotional attachment is to time. Everything slowly falls around him, but he's so caught up in himself and time and managing it, that he fails to keep up relationships and enjoyment.

Anyway, I didn't mean to pretty much give you the synopsis of my story. In fact, I may have just ruined it for you all. But, oh well, the people who will be reading it don't even have a blogger account, and it's not as if more than 2 or 3 people read this anyway. So. I'm safe for now.

Well, I must attend to the dog and continue to get ready for the day. She's cute, but that cone ... I call it the Cone of Shame, and every time I walk by her I whisper "shaaaaaaaame." I'm sure she hates me now.