Tiring weekend. Sorry no…

Tiring weekend. Sorry no entry yesterday, but I got about 3 hours of sleep on Sat. night (very late party and early meeting with friends of parents who took me out to a very nice lunch at New Delhi restaurant but which left me exhausted) and yesterday was a somewhat emotionally draining day.

I'm still really tired, and feel like I'm about to fall over. Finished the article on Friday, and Fed Ex'd it off to Puritan. This week I'm supposed to spend dedicated to applying for jobs and grad schools for the fall, so I'm going to Border's Bookstore after work to pick up a copy of the Peterson's guide (the online version has no addresses or telephone versions. Sneaky.) Hope I don't wimp out too much on this -- I hate applying for jobs and schools. Bad for the soul.

I can tell I'm in a whiny mood, so I'd best stop here. I did want to let you know that I decided to edit out some earlier stuff in my diary. So if you haven't seen it by now, you won't. Sorry.

I found this poem while reading news this morning. Somewhat mushy, but I rather like it anyway, so I thought I'd share it.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken
in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.


--later....just sold a story to Black October Magazine. .3/word, which doesn't sound like much (and isn't, for a 1000 word story) but are still professional rates. Yippee!

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