This afternoon, I sent off my email to Jonah at CBR applying for a Comic-Con reporter position. After all, what can he do except turn me down? Wouldn’t be the first time someone has said “no” to me, or likely to be the last.
There’s no telling how many other applicants have applied, many of whom may have a much better chance at it than I do. I am qualified and I think I’d do a good job, but I am sure that is true of many others. However, one thing is certain. If I didn’t apply, I couldn’t possibly get the job. And all the discussion of how to finance getting there would be a moot point.
Thorin is just a beautiful hunk of dwarf in my opinion, silver streaks, stocky build and all. That RA auRA shines through, doesn’t it?
So I feel like hell today, probably look it, too. My eyes are so fuzzy I couldn’t really tell what I looked like when I was standing in front of the mirror earlier.
So I am thinking of Thorin and Richard and plane tickets and hotel rooms and paying my mortgage and airports and dreams and disappointments and writing and stuff. And kind of wishing I had a big bowl of Blue Bell ice cream.