When last INTERN poked her head into the blogosphere, she was grease-stained and coolant-soaked and half-insane from breathing in too many Spaceship Fumes whilst repairing the van she had been living in with Techie Boyfriend for the past six months. INTERN is happy to report that her days of living in a motor vehicle are now over, and that she is finally ready to return to a slightly less auto-shoppy existence—and to this blog.
INTERN and Techie Boyfriend are currently holed up at a secret hideaway in the hills of Mendocino County, California, where they spend most of their time studying cougar scat and making elaborate plans to catch wild boars using ingenious and entirely humane traps built out of manzanita twigs and duck spit (not to fret—INTERN is still herbivorous. But only until she catches her first boar.) Those of you who have known INTERN for some time will be intrigued to know that INTERN and Techie Boyfriend are living here under the patronage of Hippie Roommate’s high-powered boyfriend (yes, that Hippie Roommate! what a dear!) who owns pretty much the entire state of California. Vampire Roommate has slipped off INTERN’s radar—although last she heard, he was still working at the Boys’ and Girls’ Club (!!!) and sharpening his fangs in the bathroom mirror.
As you have no doubt already deduced, INTERN is no longer an intern any sort (unless you count cougar scatology) nor indeed affiliated with the publishing industry in any official capacity except as a troublesome author whose tendency to have no fixed address causes her publisher no end of despair. She has decided to come back to this blog (and this particular pseudonym, rather than FORMER INTERN or something awful like that) because over the past few months she’s started to feel a yearning to reconnect. She has done her months of wandering, put in her lonely hours, sat in her proverbial bat-infested cave, waiting for a vision—and now it’s time to come home. Oh yes, and she missed you.
Part of INTERN wishes she could report that during her six-month absence from this blog, she had netted some twenty-book über-deal or authored a mystical text on par with The Tibetan Book of the Dead or launched a dozen secret blogs she never told you about or spawned a batch hyper-literate octuplets who are at this very moment being interviewed by the New Yorker. But to tell you the truth, that’s not what INTERN did. What INTERN mostly did was sit in her bat-cave fretting over the idea of Quality and berating herself to get Serious about her Art*. Incidentally, she also learned how to juggle three balls. Neat-o!
Going forward, INTERN feels the need to make certain Declarations about this blog. You can probably guess what they are, but here goes anyway:
-INTERN reserves the right to de-anonymize at some point, at her sole discretion. This means you might check this blog someday only to discover that it is in fact written by a thick-ankled old snake wrangler from Bryan, TX or an eleven-year old Siberian orphan ensnared in childhood by Intern Slavers from New York (what? you don’t know about the Intern Slavers? what a scoop.) She probably won’t do it anytime soon (or perhaps ever). But maybe!
-INTERN also reserves the right to outsource this blog to India should her intensive schedule of boar-hunting and manuscript revision prove too cumbersome.
-INTERN furthermore reserves the right to shift the focus of this blog from writing to Jungian theory and drop some serious apocatastasis on your animas. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.
Oh, screw declarations. You all know why INTERN is here. She doesn’t need to declare nothin’.
It’s good to be back.
With infinite adoration and gratitude,
*being cougar scatology.