I’ve been somewhat quiet on the blog lately, mainly because I’ve been on vacation for three weeks now. I have one more left to go and I am certainly ready to get home. It isn’t that I just love the community in which I live in southern California SOOOOOOO much. You guys know that isn’t true. It’s just that I like my own kitchen. I enjoy having more than one bathroom for my whole family. And my bed at home doesn’t have springs sticking into my side every night when I go to bed.
But there is something I just can’t keep quiet on much further. Something so profound in its impact on this vacation that to say nothing would be a detriment to my own mental health:
How some on this trip will make it into my next book.
Last night I was helping my cousin – getting married this Friday – put together place cards for the reception. It was pretty involved: cutting, sticking, hot gluing, printing … and, in fact, the job wasn’t even finished after five hours of work. As I burned off almost all of my finger prints with the hot glue gun (which will be to my advantage later, I’m sure), we were talking about my book and how people could get into it. Well, really we were talking about how my cousin (the one getting married) could get into it; or how she could secure herself a book all about her.
While I’m not sure that Bridezilla will get a book of her own (kidding about the Bridezilla thing … OK, not really kidding … see Lins, you’ve made it in my blog TWICE now!! … just don’t have a Bridezilla meltdown), I did come back to our hotel room and think about ways people on our vacation could make it into a future book.
Stay With Me In A Hotel Suite
You had better believe that you will get an entire book written about you if you stay with me in a hotel suite. A small hotel suite. A small hotel suite with a small kitchen that you move things around in all the time, in spite of the fact that the only one that actually ever goes in the kitchen to get anything for anyone is me. A small hotel suite where you get the comfortable bed (dad) and we get the shitty bed with the springs that stick into my back in the middle of the night, and the pillows that could really be called “instruments of neck destruction.” A small hotel suite with one bathroom. A small hotel suite that has a bathroom which we all have to share that seems to be occupado for thirty minutes or more, multiple times per day, whenever a man (dad or husband) goes in there. A small hotel suite where there is limited space for clothes and shoes, and my expensive shoes and clothes get repeatedly moved around, wrinkled, smashed, folded incorrectly, or damaged. Or lost. A small hotel suite where we have to do laundry once a week, and you offer to help with the laundry so you go up to the laundry room and promptly lose four of my irreplaceable and staple clothing items.
All of that. That will get you into my next book.
Don’t Ask About My Book
This is what really hurts. I can count on one hand how many people have asked about my book since we got here. And I’ve seen and talked to a lot of people. I’m starting to think I’m just more of a B(itch) than I thought.
I don’t want to sound like a spoiled and temperamental writer. But at the same time, I want to not let people continue to focus on their lives only when in conversation with me. I want to exist in their minds. Maybe not equally, but if we are to have some kind of a relationship it has to be a fair one where we both do things and are important.
Let me repeat that: I can count on one hand how many people have asked about my book. If I lost my thumb and pinky finger in an unfortunate accident involving a lawn mower, a gas can, and a lighter, I could still count on one hand how many people have asked about my book.
For those of you actually interested, I wrote a book. It’s actually my third. A member of my family even just learned Saturday night that I have done such gloriously rewarding things, and that my time is actually not always spent in total mediocrity. Just what in the fuck does that say?
Sales are going well, thanks for asking.
Oh you read it? Well I hope you enjoyed it. I don’t offer refunds if you didn’t.
Promotion is going great too! Thanks for taking such an active interest and being so supportive! Next time you run a marathon and need a donation, join a band and want to get people to your first show, run a Kickstarter for your creative project, have a baby or buy a house or get married or engage in any other major life moments, I will make sure to show you the same exact level of encouragement and support that you have showed me!
I’m starting to sound bitter, so I think I’ll stop there. I’m actually the furthest from bitter anyone could imagine. I know what you are all thinking – how could you suffer the disappointments of losing articles of clothing, sleeping in a bed with springs, and your major life achievements being disregarded simply because no one thought to look?
I’ll tell you why: because it’s all making it into the next book. You might call this blog post the teaser…