when a blogger meets a blogger…

I’m at a Borders writing in my blog while looking at Wil Wheaton who just so happened to have been reading inside this store about his book that he got from his blog. He has no idea the meeting of the blogs that is taking place right at this very moment.

Wil Wheaton! You and I, we are peers. In fact, I was on a panel of judges judging YOU . Where’s the thanks? Do not pass me on your way to your latte without so much as a single interested stare! Do you not understand the secret Blogger eye-shake I’m giving you every time you walk by where I’m sitting? Did you not see me signing books of my own, Wil Wheaton? I had my blog book first, sir. You may have the fame, but I have the fifth printing (and soon to be released in Germany). That’s right, mister. There may have been a hundred people at your signing today, and I can see right now you have like, two publicists, but when I read to three people in a Torrence Borders, those three people might not have known about you and your blog, Mr.Wil Wheaton.

I’ve never even seen Star Trek.

You think you invented blogging? With your smug… you write sci fi? Is that it? And your…

Why am I all worked up about Wil Wheaton? I have no idea. I’m just flattered they still had copies of my book to sign at this store, here on Sunset and Vine. And you know, right now I’m working on the new novel about three feet away from Wil Wheaton. Maybe he’ll be good luck for chapter three.

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I’ve had my new computer for less than two months and I’ve already warn away the lettering on the “e” key, half of the “i” key, and there’s a dark spot on the lower left side of the computer where my wrist rests when I work. Does that mean I’ve logged a lot of hours on the machine, or that I’m a monster on my keyboard?

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As I sit here working on my writing assignment for group tomorrow, I realize that almost all of my high school memories revolve around my family, boys, or writing. I have to tell a story about high school and I’d rather it not be about sex, because we have to read these out loud and everybody knows they’re true and it’s bad enough they read what they read in the novels. And I don’t want to write about boys because one of those boys happens to be in my writing group and I can only imagine he’ll always assume I’m writing about him because I why wouldn’t he? And I don’t want to write about my family because it seems I’m always writing about my family and the whole point of writing group is to write outside your comfort zone.

Writing outside my comfort zone gets difficult when I have the blog to practice writing in my comfort zone every single day. I’m rewarded for writing within my comfort zone.

Boys. Books. Family. There had to be more to high school than that.

Shit. I have to start my fifteen-minute exercise. I think it’s cheating that I’m working it out over here.