I had spoke to father last night and asked for help and when i check the posts for a writing group i belong to and a woman named Debralee Pagan wrote this piece on wendsday.
A short piece from my Wednesday night Writing Group.
Hope you enjoy it.
Deb
Want Ad
Mary only wanted to write, that's all. She didn't care if she didn't have fashionable clothes or a big screen TV or new tires. Actually, she didn't care if she had money at all. But if the world insisted on money, then she just wanted to make hers doing something she cared about. She didn't see why the world couldn't be arranged that way.
She was scanning the Classified Ads again, trying to find something she could stand to do, at least for awhile. It was not encouraging. She didn't really want to starve, but she also didn't want to make tacos, or deliver crates, or enter data on a screen all day, either. And the problem was she could never fool anybody about that for long. She might put on her real-world costume with the boxy jacket and those heels with the awful name `pumps', and she might smile automatically and be trivial and polite to everyone, drink coffee uncomplainingly in a cubicle, and her fingers might go clickety-clack on the keyboard. But the vim and vinegar just wasn't there. Sooner or later, someone would always call her into the office for a talk that started, "Mary, I can see you're not happy here "
Mary pulled a pad toward her and scribbled with a frown: Wanted. New God. Cluttered and unsatisfying planet seeks open-minded, imaginative Deity to rearrange society for greater fulfillment quota. The right candidate will have a progressive outlook, extensive cultural interests, a humane philosophy, and no archaic ideas about Sin or Patriarchy. Considerable organizational skills required, and a knack for multi-tasking. Must love artists. Must optimize right livelihood. Must be communicative, and user-friendly. Reasonable salary and bonuses contingent upon satisfaction of inhabitants. Position open immediately, apply in person.
She put down her pen and nibbled on her thumbnail. `Must love animals,' she added.
Mary sighed and took a sip of green tea. She picked up her mail and sniffed, sailing three rejection letters to the floor one by one.
Then she crimped her mouth very tightly, and went back to the Want Ads.
Now doesn't that ad remind you of Father Satan?
I made a nice reply to the woman after i read the post-just reading it gave me a nice sense of calm-like what Father told me last night will come and things will be ok in the end.
Hail Father Satan
A short piece from my Wednesday night Writing Group.
Hope you enjoy it.
Deb
Want Ad
Mary only wanted to write, that's all. She didn't care if she didn't have fashionable clothes or a big screen TV or new tires. Actually, she didn't care if she had money at all. But if the world insisted on money, then she just wanted to make hers doing something she cared about. She didn't see why the world couldn't be arranged that way.
She was scanning the Classified Ads again, trying to find something she could stand to do, at least for awhile. It was not encouraging. She didn't really want to starve, but she also didn't want to make tacos, or deliver crates, or enter data on a screen all day, either. And the problem was she could never fool anybody about that for long. She might put on her real-world costume with the boxy jacket and those heels with the awful name `pumps', and she might smile automatically and be trivial and polite to everyone, drink coffee uncomplainingly in a cubicle, and her fingers might go clickety-clack on the keyboard. But the vim and vinegar just wasn't there. Sooner or later, someone would always call her into the office for a talk that started, "Mary, I can see you're not happy here "
Mary pulled a pad toward her and scribbled with a frown: Wanted. New God. Cluttered and unsatisfying planet seeks open-minded, imaginative Deity to rearrange society for greater fulfillment quota. The right candidate will have a progressive outlook, extensive cultural interests, a humane philosophy, and no archaic ideas about Sin or Patriarchy. Considerable organizational skills required, and a knack for multi-tasking. Must love artists. Must optimize right livelihood. Must be communicative, and user-friendly. Reasonable salary and bonuses contingent upon satisfaction of inhabitants. Position open immediately, apply in person.
She put down her pen and nibbled on her thumbnail. `Must love animals,' she added.
Mary sighed and took a sip of green tea. She picked up her mail and sniffed, sailing three rejection letters to the floor one by one.
Then she crimped her mouth very tightly, and went back to the Want Ads.
Now doesn't that ad remind you of Father Satan?
I made a nice reply to the woman after i read the post-just reading it gave me a nice sense of calm-like what Father told me last night will come and things will be ok in the end.
Hail Father Satan
