I wrote, wrote, and wrote all day today and I was very productive. I usually write 4 or so hours per day on average. My schedule is write for a hour or so, unless I'm going to a morning event. Then I usually go out, even if it's just for minute. Then I return and write for a minute. Evenings I'll usually have a trip out or chill with my TV and Richard, my cat. Then I'll write again off and on until bedtime. I'm pretty prolific. Everyday, I blog at least and most days I write poetry or fiction, if not both.

Today I went to a Best Buddies Fundraiser. Best Buddies is a program that connects people with intellectual disabilities and those without them, who may be able-bodied or have some sort of other disability like I do, and fosters friendships between the pairs. I don't have much money now and I'm sorry for that as they are going to have a budget cut of $60,000 this upcoming fiscal year which I think is really shameful (but what does our government do lately that isn't shameful? God I sound jaded). I've decided, however, to help them using poetry if they agree. They have a visual arts program there I'm going to request that people make art and then I'm going to write poems inspired by the art that they make. Sort of like illustration but in reverse. That wasn't my idea by the way. That was my assistant's phrase for it. I figure I'll give them half the money for the zine and I'll keep half because I need money to survive. Basically, I make now about $150.00 plus benefits if I'm really devoted to writing on the internet. I don't have a real job. If I did, trust me, I would give them all the money.

I'm also going to volunteer to be a buddy. Hopefully with another writer because they have an artist program. I've never written with anybody I didn't know. I've also never written with anyone with a intellectual impairment. I don't know what they're going to write like because of course they are individuals, but I suspect it might be happier than my usual political snarky commentary (but who am I to judge? I don't know as I haven't met them yet). Perhaps its my own stereotypes of people like them that expects their words to be all happy and rainbows. I don't really like admitting that, but it's true. I just realized I'm guilty of the same stereotypes I yell at other people for having. Not a fun realization.

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