Hello again, adoring readers! It's been a number of days since I last posted, so I figured I owed you one. The problem is, however, that every time I've sat down to update, I lose sight of the small significances that have occurred and find I have nothing worth anything to say. So then, dear reader, what you get is a weak summary of a few days of driest detail and not an inkling of organic emotion. But because it's been a few days and a few days can so quickly become a few weeks, then months, and nothing, here it is, something new to read. It's been a very fluffy "what if" weekend. Too many super hero movies and Hollywood dreams-come-true will do that to you. As well as great critiques of a short story you've written and a half-full glass that continues to fill with opportunity. I got a lot in the paper last week; looking forward to seeing the articles when I go in Tuesday. I've got a small stack of clippings building on top of my printer; nothing of radiance, but it's the small step before the leap--my name in print. Of course, this wasn't what I always dreamed my first publication to be, but I'll take it as the Lois Lane in me and someday I'll publish like J.K. Rowling; I'll live under pseudonyms so people can see an un-blended side of me in the many genres of media. Kris and I watched some of the Oscars tonight. I want to be an actress. Then a director. Or maybe just one or the other. I like to believe I have what it takes to be a director, just not the courage to leave all this and run away to film school and be dirt poor making cheap films for a good number of years. It's one of those things where a new-comer can feel small and stupid because there is so much to understand and know; same goes for sports gurus, stock brokers, art dealers...if you don't know your stuff, you're a phony and not worth a pinch of time, despite talent. Or so that's what I think. I also got a spark of excitement because I once again opened up that overwhelming file, the one I keep opening and closing over the years where three characters have changed names, sex, origins, and histories. Where the beginnings and middles keep re-arranging and the plot keeps morphing into something larger than I ever believed I could muster. The exciting part of this opening though, the real thrill to my last brisk idea summary, is that I think I've almost got it. I mean really, just one epiphany away from nailing it. Then there are the small details to work out, the dramatized scenes to iron out, and well, this is years to come, I'm sure. I'm not a dedicated writer and this story is more than exhausting. I've read some of the paragraphs hundreds of times, driven by their rare beauty and dying to perfect it more each time. It's the science fiction I began I wish I knew when, the story which gave birth to Larivant Cole, Cameo Cadmus, Rigolo, Farius Farcast, Teague, Larkin, Talbot, and a longer list of cast members that have been given breath and erased multiple times over. I smile now, knowing that no one understands that. No one knows what I'm feeling now, no one could understand that incredible satisfaction of knowing that you *almost* have a great story in front of you, waiting to be punched out. No one knows this private pride like me. And all that will do it for me. I'm exhausted, it's Sunday, an early morning and yet another long week await. I will say though that I had a great weekend, long, peaceful and comical at times. In closing, should you manage to get to the move theatre sometime soon, don't waste your money on Ghostrider. It was just plain terrible! Bonsoir Carrie Caulfield