Poisonous Bitch

Don't worry, I don't even have a sister (or a gluten intolerance):

My sister poisoned me! That bitch! She swore those cupcakes were gluten-free, but I wouldn’t be sick like this if they were. She must have snuck some wheat in while baking them.

Why would she do this to me? Especially on my birthday! Is she still mad that I was a little late to her birthday dinner last year? She’d only been waiting 15 minutes, even if I was supposed to be there an hour earlier. It’s not my fault my seminar ran late. And why should I have left early if I knew she wouldn’t be on time either? Really, she got mad at me for not waiting for her for 45 minutes, and I apologized for months.

And then she poisoned me! I can feel the nastiness moving through my veins despite my body’s fierce attempts to expel it. I knew she wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but I thought she was better than this. A sister should be safe from the evils she unleashes on the world.

How could I confront her about this? I can’t just accuse my sister of poisoning me, but I can’t let her treat me like this. I won't stoop to her level with revenge. I’ll just have to tell her that I ate gluten somehow and that she’ll need to be more careful in the future because I know she’d never feed it to me on purpose. She’s too good a sister to ever hurt me like that and she must feel so bad about causing me all this pain through no fault of her own. So from now on she’ll just have to bring over only foods that are labelled gluten-free. It’s not my fault they cost two to three times as much as regular food. That’s just the price she’ll have to pay for having a sister who’s stronger than she thinks.

I've been thinking quite a bit about writing and what it means lately. I met a professional writer last week and during the whole conversation about writing and books it was so hard not to be jealous of him. But the great surprise was that I didn't also feel intimidated because I've become confident calling myself a writer. One day other people will work not to be jealous of me.

I've also been thinking a lot because I'm coming across "expert" opinions that are pissing me off. One writer is considered a must-read for writers and other artists and another is someone I know who's coming off pretty cocky for one so young. What bugs me most is being told that I write because I want to communicate with an audience, even if that audience is just myself.

If you ever want to piss me off, just tell me why I'm doing something.

Here is a perfect example of my writing that was not created to communicate, but to sound beautiful to my ear and look lovely on the page:

Sometimes I write just because I enjoy the activity of making letters and words on the page. So there.

It's so hard to blog when the weather's beautiful, because it's hard to do anything at a computer hat's not absolutely necessary when the weather's beautiful. Now that crappy fall/winter is coming on I swear I'll be better.

But not so much tonight because I have to practice piano and write another two letters. So here's another wonderful quote to tide over my eager reader (you'd better read this since you're the only one so far), a wonderful example of simile from an email I received:

"The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00pm instead of 7:30."