Irritation and Fun and Tiredness

MistWeaver: Man, am I exhausted.
Voice In The Mist: Why's that?
Weaver: I volunteered at the Calgary International Reggae Festival from about 10 AM this morning to 8 30 PM. Was forced to stay until 11. Didn't get home until 12. It is now 12:19, and I'm exhausted. I hate waking up early.
Voice: Indeed. So, was it worth it?
Weaver: Fuck yeah! I had a fine time. A boring time, most of the time, but a fine time.
Voice: Why boring?
Weaver: Since I was the youngest person selling tickets (and the latest, thanks to Fil), I got the fun job of putting bracelet wristband things on people so that they can go in and out. How fun! Not. The most irritating and boring job ever. I like working a till. It's fun. I don't like ripping backs off of bracelets and putting them on people. At least later I did security: put on sunglasses, look menacing, and occasionally chase someone away from area I'm guarding. Still. It's still monotonous and grunt work.
Voice: You do grunt work for Brian.
Weaver: He pays me. And his work is not monotonous and boring. It requires skin.
Voice: Skin?
Weaver: Er... Skill.
Voice: I hope that's what you meant. So what's the 'fun' part?
Weaver: Well, you know how I couldn't write because there was no computer with which to do it?
Voice: Yes...
Weaver: And you know how I really needed a laptop to write on?
Voice: Yes...
Weaver: Wellmamaagreesandshegotmeandkaiandherselfalllaptops.
Voice: What?
Weaver: I have a laptop now. An Acer TravelMate. Gorgeous. Silver, named Lurreal.
Voice: Wow. Congrats.
Weaver: Yes. I just had to share my joy with you. Oh, and there's another thing I'd like to share joy on.
Voice: Let me guess. You finished your book now that you have Lurreal and it's been puclished and is on the New York Times bestseller list.
Weaver: No. I wish. But my book has sold its first international copy, before it's even been finished!
Voice: Wow. That's big. Where? America?
Weaver: We're in America. North America. But no, not the USA. Egypt, of all places. My friend Mindi, who used to live there, sent a copy to Egypt, I'm assuming. And I hope that Donna, who posted a comment on mistynano2004.blogspot.com this morning, doesn't mind the sharing of the joy, because here's the email:

Aya,
Right now in Egypt there is a girl holding in her hands a copy of your book 'Broken Wings'. That girl is me.
Mindi Thurmon sent it to me. She told me you wrote this and along with it told me she thought it was amzing the way you followed your dreams and managed to write a book when so many other kids start, but never finish, or dream to, but dont even start.
Now all I can say is that I agree with her, because it really is amazing. And its inspiring. You are such a talented writer, dont ever stop writing. But I dont even need to say that, because what i know of you has showed me you seem like a person who will never give up on something she loves.

When I read 'about the author' and read your motto, it helped me to realize what makes my life beautiful. Its Mindi. And you know why? Because she is my life, and she is nothing less than beautiful. Now that she is coming home, I wont ever take that for granted.

donna

~*~

Voice: Wow. And that copy of the book wasn't even finished?
Weaver: Yup. I wish my blog didn't have an anonymity-ifier on the comments. I'd email her back and thank her, ask her for her address so that I could send her a copy when I'm finished. She really made my week with that email. Donna, if you read this, thanks! Also, if you don't feel comfortable with me posting your email, tell me and I'll take it off.
Voice: Thoughtful of you.
Weaver: Well, it's her email. And I agree: Mindi truly is a beautiful person. I hope for my own selfish sake that she isn't moving back to Egypt as Donna implied, because I'd miss her tons. Unfortunately, I haven't talked to Mindi since around the end of the school year, at my birthday party.
Voice: One day, you'll have to tell me more about this famous birthday party of yours.
Weaver: I will. However, it won't be tonight. I'm pooped. It's almost one, and I need to dig out my contacts from my eyes and sleep for several days. Too bad I have no sense of time. I may sleep for only an hour instead and not know.
Voice: You'd know all right. You'd still be unbelievably exhausted and you'd snap at anyone nearby.
Weaver: True. But I'll try my luck. G'night.
Voice: Good night. I hope you're here to stay this time. It's good to have you back.