Good intentions regarding blogging are almost certainly to be foiled if they are declared. Thus, a long hiatus. What happened? Well, um.
I submitted the manuscript for Sorrows’ Master to Harper Collins, and it was, by January, declined very politely. Really, I am not put out at this. There was still fat in the story that could and should be trimmed out. I knew I would circle back around to it, by and bye. And I have, too, but that’s another entry’s worth.
Meantime, I decided to go ahead and apply to the International Butler Academy. I got in. And this Friday, I go off to the Netherlands for two months to school. Holy cannoli! I got in.
By May, when it was time to leave to go to school, I found myself looking back on the last eight months and marveling at this journey, taken largely in the quiet of my own home. I have changed, and I did it on my own dime and by my own decision. Some folks do this when they’re teenagers; some never do. I have been more than fortunate to do so with the love and aid of my very dear Kay, to whom I owe my life several time over by now.
Then, I packed my bags and flung myself headfirst into an amazing adventure overseas. In a word, the International Butler Academy was bootcamp with suits, where I learned how to be that mythical creature, a real butler. No, we didn’t squirm through the mud under barbed wire while wearing Armani. Don’t be silly. It was 24-7 and demanding–physically, mentally, and spiritually. It was harder than my stint at graduate engineering school by a long shot. I persevered and worked my tail off. I and my 14 fellow students gave our all, and every one of us graduated.
You may cheer, now. This means that I do consider myself a professional butler. And professionally? Writing and art aside (they’ll always be with me), I would love nothing better than to be household manager for a nice family in the Washington, D.C. area. That’s a hint, folks.
Now, this whole butler thing is perhaps at odds with my imaginative works, which can be wild and crazy stuff, admittedly. I can assure people that they are ONLY imaginative works. What this means as far as what sort of person I am, is that I am an imaginative person, and working for a nice, wealthy gay couple would be wonderful. Working for artists? Awesome. Would I embarrass a nice dentist or IT executive? Absolutely not.
And then I returned home to…no job, and a most painfully pinched sciatic nerve. I fell up some brick stairs outside during a wedding at Kasteel Oost and twisted the heck out of my back and knee. By the end of the night, a great whacking chunk of my left foot was numb. It’s taken two months to get better, but it has. As for the no-job affair, I am now recalling how frustrating it was to have a new career but no real experience except for excellent training. Hopefully something will arrive, if I keep applying for jobs and poking around for outside-the-box opportunities. Meantime…art and writing are still with me, and that I can work on.
More blogging for me!