The struggle never dies.

So, for the longest time, I thought that writing was difficult. I struggled writing my novels, struggled figuring out the characters and the plot. But something I wasn't prepared for was the difficulty that came AFTER I had finished my novel.

Now, with a completed novel, I have begun sending out inquiries to agents to see if I could get some representation and get published. However, I am beginning to feel discouraged.

I understand that these people see thousands of manuscripts and I am sure that out of these thousands, very few are good. However, this is what they signed up for. The day that they decided that they would be agents, was the day that they commited to get thousands of unwanted writings arriving in the mail or via email. However, I can't help but to compare this to the celebrities that complain about being famous...it just comes with the territory.

Now what I can't stand, is the impersonal nature of the rejections. If I spend 30 minutes, personally curtailing a query to an agent, I am astounded that they can't even spend the time to cut and past my name into a pre-existing rejection letter and call it a day! I have gotten several: "Dear Author, We apologize for the impersonal nature of this rejection."

Hmmm....

I apologize that you're an asshole.

Believe me, this is not about my rejections. I can handle those. I just wish that some agents could pull their heads out of their asses and act human. After all, almost everyone on this planet is.

Fire?...you're dead.

Did anyone ever stop and look around at the tools available to us on a daily basis, in case one is stuck in a building during a fire?

I did this the other day at school and I found that on every floor there were multiple fire extinguishers behind glass, multiple hoses behind glass, and even a fire axe behind glass like the one pictured above.

I seemed to be the only person to find this rather extraordinarily comical.

I am suggesting at this point, that if you find that you are somehow trapped in a burning building with such fire fighting tools as these behind glass, you should probably just capitulate to death.

All odds are against you. Think about it, not only do you have a fire to get away from in this case, but the only tools you have to assist you are behind glass. Glass that has to be broken somehow, to get the tool out that you need to escape and survive.

Those of you that are math majors probably realize now that the chances of you getting out of the fire are, we will say 50% likely. You are also 50% likely to slit your fucking wrists open accidentally while breaking through the glass, to get the tools to escape the fire.

In a fire, it is unlikely that a person will have the time or wits to meander through halls looking for a tool to open or pry this glass case open. Most likely, as adrenaline would have it, you're gonna Chuck Norris punch that shit open to save your life.

Perhaps we could keep the extinguisher being a sliding non-metal or glass door. In which you slide open during fire and take these tools out.

I understand that it is necessary to keep tools like this behind glass, to keep the crazies away from them...especially the axe.

But if someone is fucking crazy enough to want an axe that isn't theirs when there is no fire, chances are they are willing to break through the death glass anyways.

uh oh.

So I wouldn't classify how I am feeling as sick, per se, but yesterday I did sleep for a total of over 12 hours. Mind you, this was 12 neccessary hours that I needed to work on essay and such homework that the percrastinator in me insists on putting off.
However I was feeling so darned tired I laid down. And once I did this, I realized that my head was pounding too hard to actually sleep. However, once I laid down for an hour I forced myself into a sleep coma, that did not end until this morning.
I had better not be getting sick or I'm going to kick the ass of every customer that comes in the door to Best Buy, whether or not they are guilty of getting me possibly sick.
In other news I did make an exceptional salad for dinner last night. It has only about 360-400 calories (depending on how much extras you put in) and it is definitely a very manly salad. Ryan loved it and he usually hates salads.
Here is the recipe (it makes 1, so double if you're making it a date meal):

1. 1 green bel pepper (chopped up to whatever size you want)
2. 2 1/2 cups spinach or salad greens
3. some chicken pieces (I got one of those premade ones at Ralphs because I'm lazy)
4. Cilantro (I picked off however much I wanted)
5. Roma tomato (1 chopped up)
6. chiles (optional...to give it some spice)
7. Avocado slices (1/2 per salad)
8. 1/4 cup of drained black beans (uncooked)
9. For dressing, per salad pour 1 teaspoon olive oil, and 1 tablespoon lime juice

It was seriously amazing and filling! So you should try it. And I am pretty sure that it tastes even better if it is eaten out of super cute bowls, preferably pink, sparkly, or polka dotted. These said dining dishes also increase manliness and chesthair.

Another crazy customer. Lucky me.

So this happened only 2 days ago, so it's rather fresh in my mind...

I happened to be in the area of customer service and I hear screaming. Not the "painful ouch!" type of screaming, but the "intense angry" type of scream.

I, not soon enough, realize that it is coming from customer service and one of my fellow co-workers Chrissy is getting screamed at...while all the managers in the store walk by and pretend like they can't hear.

I listen for just a moment, because I figure it necessary that if I am going to intervene and subject myself to mental torture instead of my co-worker, that I should at least know what the ruckus is about.

Please realize, that nothing in an electronics store is worth screaming over.

So I listen and I finally realize what this irate lady is screaming over. It is so ridiculous that I must hold off on revealing this information.

I walked over mid scream and I say, "Hey!" but she doesn't hear over the sound of her own ugly voice. So I yell, "HEY!"

By the way, I've worked at a summer camp for kids the past 6 years, and I have a very loud booming voice when I need to. So the lady stops mid yell and looks at me...Seriously, if looks could kill, I would be 6 feet under as I type.

"You need to lower your voice. You're making a scene in here. So lower your voice," I politely and quietly said to...let's call her Bitch.

Bitch looks at me and starts screaming unimportant nothings such as, "Excuse me! Well, excuuuussseee me! Look at you. Who are YOU! Who are YOU! I ain't talkin' to you! Etc. Etc."

Once again, I calmly tell her, "Excuse me. You're being rude and making a scene over something that's definitely not worth making a scene over. She is only trying to help you and you're being extremely rude, so lower your voice and I wont escort you out."

She looks at me like no one has ever said this to her in her life. She commences asking who I am and why I feel the need to intervene, and I end up lying to her and telling her that I am the Store Manager.

Perhaps I should take this moment and overshadow the fact that I straight up lied to the customer, to tell you what she is yelling about.

She signed up for magazine subscriptions from our store to get a $20 gift card. She already received her gift cards and now wanted to cancel the magazines. The customer normally cancels this themselves by either calling a 1800 number or can do it online in about 2 seconds at such websites as www.si.com/customerservice.

We CAN cancel it for customers, however the means we have to do so are nothing beyond what the customer has. We ,too, have the same 1800 number or do the same websites. However if you log in, you will see that one needs a person's name, address, phone number, and email address to cancel, or their order number off of one of their magazines.

But I cannot stress enough that this is a courtesy. We are not SUPPOSED to cancel these for customers. We just do so out of the kindness of our hearts. We are actually encouraged to not cancel them for people because it loses us money on the backend since the customer is canceling.

And so, this lady wanted Chrissy to cancel her subscriptions for her. Chrissy agreed to do so and told the lady...I mean Bitch...that she would need Bitch's name, address, phone number and email. After much hesitation Bitch handed over the information but refused to give over the email. Chrissy informed the customer that she needed her email to even log in and cancel. Upon hearing this information, the customer went berserk.

The customer was screaming over the fact that she had over 15 email addresses and could not possibly remember ALL of them and DEFINITELY would NOT write them ALL down for Chrissy. Chrissy simply requested that the customer tell her a few of her most used email addresses and this set the customer off.

An email address.

I took over while Chrissy stood back behind me, because let's face it, no one likes to be yelled at, even over ridiculous things by a Bitch.

I couldn't help but smile over this ridiculous customer. To my suprise, she turned out not completely stupid, because she caught on that I was laughing at her.

"I see you laughing and smirking. I see it," said Bitch.

To this I replied, "I'm not smirking miss. I have to smile at all my customers. It's part of my excellent customer service."

She did not like this answer, as apparently this means she does not like smiles or excellent customer service and started screaming again.

"How would you like me to look at you M'am, if I cannot smile?" I merely asked.

"Concern! Regret!" is all I could understand out of her obligerant screams of a Neanderthal (No offense to Neanderthals).

I, obviously mocking her, made my face into the best look I could of "concern and regret." It probably looked as if I was taking a dump in the forest, but whatever.

I was so proud of myself for being a complete asshole. At that moment I didn't care. I ended up helping her out, but not before I gave her a taste of her own medicine.

I also gave her corporates number to complain and wished her adieu.

So, to make a really, really, long story short...the moral of the story is, don't make yourself 15 email addresses. If you do, you'll turn into a crazy Bitch and yell at people for no reason.