I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Easy fangirls--I don't mean DT, ha-ha.

Many of you are aware of my small efforts to raise a wee amount of money for Accord Hospice--which, thanks to the generosity of a new sponsor, is now up to 18% of goal, and 90 pounds--thank you!

Well, there's another, much larger effort going on, on the internet--and it includes an auction on e-bay.

Up for grabs:

Original artwork, a 2-foot ceramic Dalek, life-size cardboard cutouts of the Doctor (David Tennant) and, I think, a Dalek.

Additionally, you can bid on David Tennant's ORIGINAL script, from Impossible Planet! It's signed by Mr. Tennant and Billie Piper. Also, signed by DT, is a Doctor action figure.

Also, there is, I believe, a signed photo of John Barrowman as Captain Jack.

Last I looked, Mr. Tennant's script had a high bid of 850 pounds!

Other items are more affordable, tho', and it's easy to bid.

All money raised goes to Accord Hospice.

Go here, for more information:

http://www.david-tennant.com/

Don't go blind, staring, guys...

Outtake from the 1970's, Carol Burnett show, that was on CBS.

Went to the job fair at Six Flags--yeah, sure. Not exactly enthused over me--the teen next to me however...

Thirty some-odd years of work experience, and it means naught. Abso-frickin'-lutely zero. Oh well, it was only part-time seasonal, for minimum wage, anyhow.

I've got to find something--going to try the day labour place again, tomorrow morning. I need to make 200 dollars before the 20th.

Made a list of stuff I might sell--but..I might--if I'm very, very blessed, make 50 bucks...not sure it's worth losing the few remaining possessions that matter to me, for that, I'll have to mull it over another few days. I could sell my computer, for 100 bucks..but that would leave me isolated from every last one of my friends, as it's the only access I have to my blog and e-mails, on the planet.

I don't know what to do. I'm at a loss.

Oh well. Not your problem, is it?

And, to be quite honest--after two years of this continual crap raining down on my head, I don't honestly care anymore, I just literally don't care. I'm going to mostly blow this off, and what ever happens--happens. Sod it, I say. It's meant to be this way, so why the hell wear myself down trying to fight it. Let it be.

What Dr Who would be like today--on the original 1964 budget:

Scene the episode, "The Day of the Bad Whelks":

"Race you to the loo, Donna!"

Two scenes, from the episode, "Going Stag:"

"I had no idea that disco was dead--damn!"

"Hey doll...wanna' shag a Time Lord? It's bigger on the inside, ya'know..."

Please visit my Drabble-a-thon, for Accord Hospice: http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

In light of the deaths in the recent bridge collapse, congress wants to raise the gas tax 5 percent to help pay for more stringent bridge inspections/repairs. Okay, not a good thing--but better than innocent Americans toppling off bridges. Higher gas prices, or dead/wounded Americans, that's the choice we're talking about here.

Bush against raising gas tax

Mind you, this is the SAME president, that had no qualms about taking funds away from social programmes, such as food and housing and job assistance, for the poor elderly and disabled--he allowed congress to take away funding for the poor, for education, funding for the poor for health care--all to pay for what republicans laughingly call "Homeland Security." But heaven forbid, we charge people 5 percent more in gas tax, so human beings can do a simple thing like cross a bridge without dying.

As you can tell, I've not got much use for Bush--although, he might look good in the Smithsonian, stuffed and mounted.

"How the hell should I know? I'm from Texas!"

of the typical crowd at the local pool hall, downtown here, heh-heh.

Hi everyone! It's day 19, and time for another story. I rattled this one off, and now am going to grab breakfast and get ready to leave for the job fair at the local Six Flags (wish me luck). This one is dedicated to all my Whovian friends out there--thanks so very much, for all of the kindness and support you've shown me, these last few weeks.

To sponsor me--and make a small donation to Accord Hospice www.accord.org.uk , click on the Justgiving "Donate" button, or the "100 stories" banner, in my blog header. And, thank you so very much, for supporting Accord Hospice, you guys (and gals) are really far-out, in a groovy kind of way. N.

DAY 19

STORY 19

A Quiet Stroll?

The Doctor and Martha were running down a corridor, pursued by a giant worm--one with long needle-sharp teeth, which were, at present, snapping at their heels. Then, they came to a door. The Doctor flung it open. “Surprise!” The pair stared at the people in fancy dress. The Doctor waved, “Hello--erm, wrong door. Sorry.” They bolted through the crowd, out a back door.

The two found themselves on a cliff, overlooking the sea. There was the Tardis, standing by the seaside. “Doctor, your idea of a quiet stroll leaves much to be desired,” Martha grumbled. He just grinned.

Writing's funny sometimes, ya'know?

I mean, sometimes, for me, everything just clicks: I get in what I call, "the groove," and all feels right with the world, and there's this intense, focused energy, and the story or essay or play, just seems to write itself, almost.

And then, there's times...when I haven't a clue. Or, I'm not really caring that much. Maybe just writing to write something, or writing because I HAVE to, or, what-have-you.

Basically, times like that, I'm just "phoning it in." Sleepwalking through the essay or story, just writing...whatever. Like today, with my Drabble #18 for Accord--I sleepwalked through it, basically just phoned it in.

No, seriously--I didn't have any notion whatsoever, what the hell to write. Then, I saw a photo online, of someone talking on the phone--thought about an old kid's ghost story I'd heard once, about the grim reaper ringing up people to tell them he's coming...it's a format I'd used once before, when I had to write a play-skit for college. As I recall, I had the grim reaper's assistant, ringing people up to schedule their "journey to hell," which was the title of the skit (now lost).

So, I just jotted this one off, in about 15 or 20 minutes..and slapped in on my two blogs, thinking, "they're going to hate this, but..."

And, to my surprise, several people have written me to say they liked it!

Yet, over the years, I've noticed that stories I feel really shine--that I had that special centered, focused feeling while writing--often get bland or poor reactions--but these "phone-in/sleepwalking" stories, often garner positive reviews...go figure.

I've no idea, most times, what is right, and what is wrong, with my stories, plays, mini-essays and poems. I really miss that aspect of college--I was blessed with (mostly) some excellent profs--they weren't sparing of the criticism--but were very constructive (again, mostly) in that they showed me, not only mechanical errors (grammar/spelling/punctuation), but what worked in an essay, play, Press release, feature article or poem (I only wrote one fiction story in 5 years of college). I miss that--knowing what's working, and what's not--and why.

So often, I'd think something I'd written was bang-on right, only to find it wasn't quite. And I learned and grew from that. That's gone now, and I find my writing is going downhill a bit, now, despite blogging and other writing. At least, I feel a loss, of not having a mentor or prof, to help me be better. It goes sore with me, some days, to know I'll never complete my education as a writer...I'm still so far behind, where I'd like to be...and I don't think I'm ever going to catch up.

I dunno'...he looks rather good to me...and I'm sober!