i have something to brag about. i think.

A short list of things I am not good at:

1. quick mental math
2. dancing, at least the non-structured kind. I will gladly tango any day, but do not make me re-visit memories of high school dances. Pretty dresses, yes, but bad music I pretended to know while I danced awkwardly with my date, no, never again.
3. bragging about myself

I especially struggle with that last one, which is probably a good thing. Nobody like a braggart. {But braggart is a very fun word to say. And type. Try it. It reminds me of Bogart.}

I'm rather good at bragging about other people. For example:

My sister—it's her birthday today—is one of the smartest people I know. She does a job I don't entirely understand, partly because it's a top secret Air Force job and she can't tell anyone what she really does, but also because it involves physics and I remember just the basics of physics.

Here's a re-enactment of a conversation we had at Thanksgiving, complete with my inner monologue:
In Kamiah's Head: I like her t-shirt. It has a kitty cat on it. Since we are so divergent in what we wear, I should compliment her on her clothing choice.
Kamiah: Ooh, your shirt is cool.
Sister: Thanks! Funny reference to Schrodinger's cat, eh?
In Kamiah's Head: OMG, who is Schrodinger? Was that the name of the bad guy on the Smurfs? He had a cat, right? A cat who tormented the Smurfs? Does the cat on her t-shirt look anything like a Smurf creation? Why isn't it blue?
Kamiah: [utter silence that lasts for too long, followed by a guffaw] Yeah, funny.
Sister: Yeah, is the cat dead, or what?
In Kamiah's Head: OMG, they killed something on a children's show??!!?
Sister: Ahh, entanglement.
Kamiah: Hey, think you'll see that movie Tangled? I heard it's the last fairy tale Disney will ever do.
In Kamiah's Head: Please please please please please let her be distracted by that.

{Note: If you remember as much as I do about Schrodinger's cat, you can learn more about it here.}

So yeah, my sister is super smart and does lots of super top secret smart things in the Air Force. She may or may not also have a cat. It might be dead. Which is sad. But happiness: it's her birthday today!

But I still struggle to brag about myself.

Right now, I have some brag-worthy news, but my dang Midwestern modesty is getting in the way.

Therefore, I'll simply bulldoze through the modesty with my directness: I submitted some of my writing to a local literary journal, and it got accepted.

There, that wasn't so bad, although granted, that wasn't bragging so much as simply announcing.

But yeah. I'm getting published.

There's a publication party tomorrow, which—and you're under no compulsion to know this—is my birthday {yes, my sister and I have back-to-back birthdays—two years and five hours apart}, so I'm thinking of this party as a birthday party all for me.

I hope they have those little smokies. Ooh, and maybe a cheese tray. Perhaps some sort of cake, as well.

I submitted four pieces, but I don't actually know what they accepted. Perhaps all of them. Perhaps just one. I'll let you know. In a non-bragging sort of way.

In a helpful sort of way, here are links to what I submitted, should you want to review them and think, 'Would I publish this?'

{This thought is especially helpful if you're a publisher. Let me know if you are, and I'll save you a piece of cake from my birthday party/publication party. That's my way of bribing you.}

delayed pleasure {a poem}
tell me again {another poem}
about my mother's tattoo {a funny, funny piece about, obviously, my mother's tattoo}
some like it hot {about the time i learned i'm not a handyman}


I have to admit, there is a small part of me that would like to brag, so I'm going to put it in small type. Maybe you won't even read this, and then I don't have to feel guilty for bragging.

Oh my word, oh my word, oh my word! Someone who is not my mother read something I wrote and decided it was pretty okay!

And they want other people to read it!

I know it's just a local thing—it's called the Prairie Light Review, by the way—but does that even matter? You have to start somewhere, right?

I'm going to be officially published, and on my 29th birthday, which seems like it must be significant somehow but I don't want to try to think too hard about symbolism right now.

I also don't want to think too hard about other people who had published a lot more by their 29th birthday because comparison is a1a) not really part of bragging, b2b) never helpful {unless you want to help yourself into a cranky mood}, and c3c) certainly not appropriate on your Birthday Eve.

So yes: I'm getting published, and I'm a little smile-y about that.

Thank you for letting me brag a little bit. Also for reading my stuff. Yeah, especially for that.