June 11: Dipping on Monday, Not So Tired, Poetry Question

When I got up this morning, I was so tired I thought I was having an out-of-body experience.  My fleshy part was still with my pillows and blanket, while my spirity part was drifting slowly through the darkness toward the bathroom.  The shower I took didn't help.  The drive to work didn't help.  It took me a couple of hours to feel human, enrobed in skin and muscle and bone.  My mind simply did not want to unite with the physical world.

I am now sipping a cup of Diet Mountain Dew and feeling not so tired.  I'm almost human, not transparent or unsubstantial or dead.  And I'm ready to face another Monday. 

Speaking of Monday, it is time for another Carol dip.  Looking over the past few weeks, I've come to realize that the dipping on Monday has become quite popular with the disciples of Saint Marty.  The only posts that come close in readership are my poetry posts.  So, I will be dipping into the book of Dickens in a couple of seconds, but I wanted to speak about one more topic before I become one with Scrooge.

When I checked my e-mail at 5 a.m., there was a message from a woman in Los Angeles.  She's making a documentary on U. P. writers for PBS, and she wants to interview me.  I don't know how she got my name or e-mail address.  I'm thinking it has to have something to do with the U. P. Book Tour 2012.  Of course, I immediately responded to her communication.  I'll keep you posted.

Now, back to the dip.  My question this morning has to do with a poetry contest I entered a while ago.  I bet you can guess what I'm going to ask:

Will I win the poetry contest with my manuscript?

And the answer from Charles Dickens is:

"Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?" asked Scrooge.

"There is.  My own."

"Would it apply to any kind of dinner of this day?" asked Scrooge.

"To any kindly given.  To a poor one most."

Well, Scrooge is asking the Ghost of Christmas Present about the blessings he sprinkles on people from the torch he carries.  The Ghost is spreading goodwill and happiness.  Christmas cheer.  Especially to the needy and poor.

So, goodwill and happiness are coming my way.  I'm not sure if I qualify as needy or poor, but I'm certainly desperate.  The Ghost of Christmas Present is smiling down on me.  (Yes, I know that I'm being superstitious, putting my faith in a stupid act of chance, but isn't that what entering a poetry contest is?  A chance?  A leap of faith in your writing ability?)

Saint Marty's going to take his answer to the bank this morning.  Let the goodwill flow.

Hold your breath and jump...