First, a bit about my thing with Master Stories. They are a story telling/self-help/advocacy group out of South Africa. They have started a beta site, and asked some story tellers/advocates/allies (which is me, apparently) to contribut content to their site as they get started and flesh things out. I went, and I looked around their site, masterstories.com and decided I could definitely get on board with what they were doing. I’m not so much into the self-help aspect, it’s just not my thing, but the story telling, that is me all over. Once I got registered and set up, I saw it was an open submission process, cool. So I submitted the video of Haven (weird that all copies on my computer disappeared). The next day, they plugged it, and in a separate tweet, thanked me. Okay, wow.
So, I wrote a short little story for them. As I looked through the site, I discovered they had nothing for gender advocacy or story telling, so I decided to try that. If they objected for cultural or religious reasons, I would have happily taken it down, no harm, no foul. When I posted it, they simply messaged me to say that it had occurred to them to include a way to queue up content for future release. Very cool. So they are adjusting as we are posting, that is really nice. I will definitely stay. And not a word about my content of the story.
It’s been a couple of days, and I wasn’t expecting them to promote any more of my stories, they’ve got their own thing going on and I thought it was just really nice that they took the time to introduce me to the community with my first post, and I thought that was it. This morning, I wake up to another tweet plugging this new story, PLUS another tweet linking it again, and then thanking me. How insanely cool is that? And then when I retweeted and tagged those tweets, they “Liked” them. I mean, what great people! So I definitely want to come up with a mental illness poem for them this week. Just to hit another section on the list. I can’t do all the categories, but this will really let me branch out and write stories about many subjects. Really help me practice for my memoir.
And who knows, maybe I could write other people’s memoirs? I seem to have a talent for telling a story. It’s just an avenue of publication I’ve never known where to explore. That’s why we have you, Dear Diary. This is my story telling place. But if people are interested in my stories, hell, I’ll tell them. I’ll tell other people’s stories. They can tell them to me, and I can write them down like they make me see them. I could so do that. Without a problem. Why hasn’t this occurred to me before?
Perhaps it is connected to why it took me 46 years and spellcheck to master the spelling of “occurred”.
According to plan, Moon is coming over tonight. First, I am going to make her watch “Haven’, because if there is going to be a bad reaction to my teeth, for christ’s sake, I do not want it to happen in person, when it is too late for her. It’s make or break. I am giving her credit that it won’t matter. She isn’t about looks or superficial shit like that. So I am keeping my hopes up about tonight.
I’ve thoroughly traced the packages back to the residents of my old apartment. They would have claimed them with private tags left in locked boxes by the USPS, it would have been up to them to say the package wasn’t theirs. So, in the hopes that they did that, and the office has just been too lazy to Return to Shipper, I’m going to call and make an appointment to pick up the packages. This way, if they are there, I can try to get a ride. If they are not there, I don’t waste a trip, and I can settle things on the phone. And then the next day with a visit to the Postal Inspector to report mail theft. I may not get those packages back, but I will avenge all of you. Meanwhile, if you can, try to explain to the companies what happened and get refunds. I know this sucks, and I’m very sorry, and you never ever, have to feel like you should get me a gift again. This wasn’t my fault, but I feel like I should have known, or done something or something, I don’t know. I just feel really bad for those of you that were generous enough to spend your hard earned money on me, only to get a hassle in return.
I’m putting that off because the office isn’t open yet, and I don’t want to ruin my day. IF the worst has happened and the packages were kept by strangers, I’ll let the post office handle it. I’m sure they have procedures for this that make it quick and easy. The only problem I see is proving that I am Cydniey Buffers. I can offer a wealth of internet forensic proof, but I can’t give them ID, it’s a pseudonym. So there may be a snag, but I’ll work it out. I have enough false confidence and bravado for three chicks my size and maybe a small butch dude. If I pretend I’m important enough, they may just take the web evidence. God knows there’s enough of it in enough professional and varied places. I do everything but bank with that name. Have for twenty years. Maybe 30. Can’t remember. Been Cydniey a very long time. So everyone go make fake accounts and join my Twitter and FaceBook. Quick, now, like bunnies! HA!
I have got to go have a cigarette now. I was feeling phlegmy, so I stopped inhaling smoky things for a couple of hours, and I am having the most vicious nicotine attack.
Have a great Sunday, everyone.