New Contest Winnings

The week of November 5, "Plexiglass Possibilities" was placed second under the name Sarah Darling. I realized only after hearing from some of my readers that it didn't do as well as I might have hoped because it reads like it should be a short story rather than a blog post. However, it is, as Steward House says, "a unique perspective on the 'call-back.'" So, that's a good. You can find it here.

Last week, I entered the piece I've been absolutely slaving over. While the placement was, again, not what I had hoped for (I mean, I've been working on this piece for well over two months), the review showed that it conveyed exactly what I intended. Here's the link and the piece itself will be going up here in short order.

Plexiglass Possibilities

The phone is stubbornly silent and that hurts.

Not that I expected it to ring - I'm familiar enough with the human species in general and the male gender in particular not to entertain such foolishly romantic notions as the phone's low growl against my bedspread would imply.

I suppose I was just hoping to be surprised.

But I am more aware than ever of this plexiglass possibility cage I'm trapped in, bruising my fists where I would usually pace. As shocking a revelation as it may be, I'm furious. After all, I'm supposed to have options. In theory, I could have anyone I want - I know all the right moves to make, all the right phrases to say, just the right balance of accessibility and challenge to offer.

The problem lays in that I cannot think of one person it might be satisfying to have. (It is not enough to want and it is not enough to be wanted.)

I guess I've been around just long enough to be jaded.

So, I offered him a challenge. Because things can never be so easy as 'yes' or 'no' and 'happily-ever-after.' Or even 'happily-three-months-after.'

"Are you asking me out out of genuine emotion or out of a sense that you should?"

If nothing else, one should always be honest with one's self.

And now my cell goes silent and my anger (why must I be so much more than average?) kicks and screams and rages at these plexiglass possibility walls and I try not to cry over this all-too-anticipated non-answer.

Yet, there's still a stupid, silly spark of hope, wanting to be surprised. (Plexiglass is see-through.)