me today

the edges are torn
fraying
warp and weft stretched
misaligned
worn and tattered

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Come one, Come all

http://www.shewrites.com/m/blogpost?id=3506464%3ABlogPost%3A1094897

Outlook Springs is offering women an opportunity to cut the submissions line and submit directly to an editor, Emily. She describes her reasons in the website linked above: a deluge of male submissions and wanting women to be heard and valued. You still need to follow guidelines.

The call is for poems, fiction and non-fiction. When you get to the website, towards the bottom of the post you can click on the hyperlink “Submissions Guidelines”. They state they enjoy, and seek,  submissions  with “the strange”, “humor”, and “heartbreak”.

So that is what we are doing: Between January 4th and January 20th, women writers can submit their work to Outlook Springs and get it directly to an editor’s inbox. Email your fiction, non-fiction, or poetry submissions directly to me at EmilyInOutlookSprings@gmail.com between January 4th and 20th to qualify.

Posting while Nervous

“Is this the last day before your vacation?” Asked the roommate as she stood in the partially open door, on her way out to supervision at the office, later into the field. I stood over the cutting board with my diced apple prepared for submersion into hot bran cereal.

“What?”

“Is this the last day before your vacation?” She repeated.

I shrugged in response, “Yeah, I guess.”

It’s not a vacation. It’s a trip to a very particular monastery during the next four days. It’s a dry run of living the nuns’ lives to see if that’s to be my life until after I’m dead. She doesn’t know this, and all of my colleagues, coworkers nor my supervisor are in the same boat as she. The agency I work for openly embraces the LGBTQ community, evidenced by the spectrum of people employed & the clientele served.
Life is somewhat awkward now. People want to know where I’m going, and I offer information such as “a retreat with my church”, thinking that I’m Catholic and the Church is very large, with lots of property, so nosey people can’t begin to guess. This spawns more questions such as “Oh I did one of those. What lectures are you going to?” To which I reply is a “quiet retreat”. “So, like, you won’t talk?” No, I have little interest in talking, despite what I do for work.

There’s a new male employed in the office in the past three weeks. Males are somewhat rare after the feminization of the therapeutic/counseling/psychiatric field. I’m the last woman on my team who is seemingly unattached. Everyone else is married, divorced, dating, or engaged. Due to the aforementioned issue of vocation-must-not-be-named, I’m the crowd favorite. It ticks me off, this truly pushes my buttons, especially this week. I don’t want gossip mill whirling and churning; plotting out whether I’ll hook up with this man or date him. (The Rolling Stone’s She’s So Cold should be my theme song).

Anyway, my monastery visit begins tomorrow with my supposed arrival at 10am and ends with my departure from there Sunday at 10am. I was looking at the Liturgy of the Hours booklet/guide and saw this weekend is chockfull with glorious saints like Edith Stein.
Happy FEAST of the Transfiguration.

Americans remember that novena of fasting from meat for the following 9 days begins today along with a consecration of your hunger with a Rosary & prayer to St Michael the Archangel, ending on the 14th for the intention of ending the Black Mass scheduled for Oklahoma next month on Sept 21st.