_Stop making fun of people for auto correct typos. Auto correct needs to get its crap together, we all know that. We can't always be on top of it. We've tried, we've failed. Time to move on with our lives. And I feel like all the time we waste making fun of people for typos is time we could spend curing cancer or making a decent Superman movie. (#lowkeyburn)

_On the train, your space is your space and my space is mine. Listen, gentlemen, I see you. I know that on the train we're not supposed to make eye contact but when you sit next to me I see you with your peacoat and your samsung and your fashionable jawline scratch. I see you weigh about the same as me. Heck, you may even weigh less, and I forgive you for that. But I fit in my seat. Look at me, legs together, backpack on my lap, not intruding into anyone else's world. Like, don't worry, you be you and I'll just be here listening the Welcome To Night Vale. No problems. But you, that's a different story. You just need to chill. You've got your body fanned out and relaxed and no, it's cool, I guess you own this train and I don't have a corporeal form that you're shoving elbow up against. Don't be that guy, stick to your box.

_I really don't care when you got into twenty one pilots. I don't, honest. You shouldn't either. I'm happy that you've had them in your life for such a long time, that doesn't make you better then me. I could just as easily listen to their old stuff. In fact, I think I will. And then I will cry. Because twenty one pilots.

_Everybody should be your different favorite. I don't have many friends. Those I do I cherish. My Mom is my favorite Mom because she does the Mom things. My Sean is my favorite Sean because he's awesome at Sean-ing. My Mocho is my favorite Mocho because she's a technically cat but she doesn't let that stand in the way of her being a dog. Everyone can be your favorite something.

_Kingdom Hearts 3. Let's make it happen people. No more 2.8 bull.

_Smile at people in hallways. I get it. You're repulsed by me in general, I'm repulsed by you in general. It's not an ideal situation. But honey, the day ain't getting any better and we've still got eight hours of it so let's just pretend.

_If people are pretty, tell them. We hear at least 10 negative things about us a week, let's add something nice to the mix. Don't worry, I'll start. I like your bow tie. Bow ties are cool.

_Toilet etiquette. If you don't know it then let me refresh you. Gentlemen, seats down when you are finished. This bothers people. I don't know why, but it does. People in general, replace the roll when it's gone. I promise you the person behind you will not notice until it's too late. That's not on them, that's on you. Don't do that to people. Lastly, if the toilet is clogged, inform the master of the house. Yes, you will be embarrassed. Yes, the master will be mad. I feel like you'll get over it.

_Pregnant people eat pickles. That's not really a life lesson, just something I learned that's interesting. Kinda a tongue twister too. Pregnantpeopleeatpicklespregnantpeopleeatpicklespregnantpeopleeatpi-

That is all. For now. 'Til next time nerds.

_News: School starts next week._

Valued Reader, I'm trying. I'm trying really hard to not be the type of person who needs to talk about everything that happens to me professionally, whether it be good bad or just plain ugly. But, seriously, I just got an awesome rejection. I loved it. It was the best.

[context]

I said in my last post that I had gotten published for the first time. Yes, true, but that wasn't the first time I tried.
*takes a sip of coffee*
*stares meaningfully out at the world at large, contemplating the bigger mysteries of life*
Once, Reader Dearest, I was but a child. And as a child just growing into a practice that would become a passion, I thought what most my age thought. I was invincible. Nothing could touch me. What a fool I was. *but seriously* When I started high school I really started writing hardcore. I spent all my study halls in the library at the computer working on what would eventually become my first three written novels. Yes, Reader, I was working on a series. That series was called Scrapper: The Connection Reborn. That title, it should tell you what you need to know about that particular project. But wait, it gets better. It was a Young Adult Paranormal Romance birthed from the era of Twilight. As I said, what a fool I was.
If I were to honestly grade it now, being a somewhat more seasoned writer, I'd give myself a solid C. It wasn't terrible, it had it's interesting points. The cast was diverse and I somehow managed to avoid most cliches. All the same, the prose was horrendous and it had so many holes it may as well have been a Manitowoc County police investigation. (yesIcanbetopical) (alsoI'mneverlivinginwisconsin) (I'malsoreallyproudofmyselfforthatjoke). But anyway, none of this was the point.
So, here I am, with a finished novel by the end of freshman year. Already getting to work on the second. What do I do? I try to get it published of course. What else do you do with books, read them? That's for babies.
As you can imagine, I got many rejections. Many. 'Bout twenty if I'm not mistaken. To be fair to myself and the agents that passed, it was a good call. That book should not be published. But most of those rejects were out-and-out we-didn't-even-look-at-the-book slush pile rejections. Ones that were automated responses. Ones that replied to my pen name rather then my real one. (yesItriedtohaveapenname) (nowe'renotgoingtotalkaboutit).
So now, seven years or so later, I'm actually decent at writing. And I'm submitting. And I'm getting real responses back. Responses that say "yes we've really read your work and we like it but it's not for us" type so. So I wake up this morning and I find one such email in my inbox this morning. It says this.

Dear Nikki,

Thank you for sending "The Great Oak of Hypothetical Nowhere" to [redacted]. While we appreciate the opportunity to review your work, we will have to pass on this submission. The story is delightful, but it's not quite right for us.

We hope you find a good home for this story, and we look forward to seeing more of your work when we next open for submissions. Thanks for sharing this one. It's got great energy, and the character relationships are fantastic. I fell in love with Aggie instantly, and Eileen is just as charming.

Best,
[Really respectfully editor who deserves nice things]
Senior Editor

Look at that! They read it! They liked it! It just wasn't for them! They also asked to see more of my things! It's all right there! What more could you want from a rejection? I tell ya, this just makes my day. I feel like I'm hugging a puppy right that, that is where I'm at.

In other news, The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness is the new book love of my life. Props to Friend of the People Faith for recommending the book and Patrick Ness for not making me cry. Plus, Friend of the Nation Darby lent me a book called Madman and, no joke, someone stabbed it. It came in the mail with a stab mark. In the envelope too, so she says. One of the more interesting things that has happened to a book, or so I suppose. Finally, I haven't been on Geeks Under Grace in a while. That's on hold for now. Stay tuned, I'm not done making videos.

'Til next time nerds.

Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention PLEASE. I would like to inform all of you that I am no longer "theoretically" a writer. No, we opened up this box and after we scooped out the cat who had technically been dead for the entirety of Schrodinger's lecture we found a real life bonafide miracle. God is real.
_And in other news I am published.

First thing's first, click here and here and here and here and not here to read the Mr. Pascal's Funeral Parlor on Literally Stories' website where I am an author and have an author page which you can see by clicking here and here and it's dangerous to go alone click here.

Second order of business, GIFs.









I could go on, but that might not be safest for everyone.

Third, the story.

So all of my writing friends got to talking without out me there one day (not salty I swear) and they were like "hey wudn't b funni if we started 2 b pros w/o nikki" and I was like "not cool gais" so after they got some short work floating around I started thinking of submitting. Good thing about being in a creative writing program is that there's a sub-department dedicated to getting you out there with your face and your beautiful words. (There is literally an event where they press send on your submission email for you.) So I start workshoping some stuff with them and researching markets and while I was looking for completed stuff to submit I found this piece which is clearly a rip off of a Panic! At The Disco music video, which I wrote in high school, and I was like lol sure, never going to get published though. I send it in and they basically tell me it's ready to publish so I write my cover letter and draft the email and attach the work and then I'm like "...This could prolly use twenty more edits" and they were like "nah, it's done bro" and I press a dainty finger to their collective lips and said "shhhhhhh...."
One sunday morning of an indefinite amount of days after this occurred I talked to my mother about this conundrum. This is also the day that I learned that I have nausea-inducing publishing anxiety. Her advice to me was this. Worry about it tomorrow, today just relax and focus on Jesus. 
So of course I ignored her advice and went to tinker with the email. I changed a period to a coma and went to save it and then oops, pressed send.
_This, my friends, is how the Grinch stole Christmas.
Six days and three stress balls later and I receive this email while unloading a truck full of food with my father.

_News: I finally read Amy Pohler's memoir. Your turn._

So sorry, I haven't been very active here as of late. Finals and Christmas events and publications and many other things have been happening, all of which are time consuming and none of which are interesting. I've considered writing a few things on life in general, but when starting out those posts out they always somehow turned into self-centered brag/whine fests which I chose to spare you, the valued reader, from. Instead, here are is a moment in my life involving Aldi.

Let me set up the scene. At church, where I work for the money cash, we decided to make a movie for our Christmas event this year. We've been working on it for MONTHS, and now it's coming down to a weekend. Lots of things to talk about when it comes to this but let me single out this one moment. One of the last things to do when planning an event is the food.
_Side note: This implies that food is a last minute detail. FALSE. It is last on the list but by no means a last minute detail. You food gathering to anything less then two weeks before then you, dear reader, are dead in the water.
Anyway, it falls to me to take care of this detail, seeing as I am the "office administrator." (Been rocking that title since 2014 and I'm still not entirely sure what it means.) Many things on the list that I need find, order, and pick up. I'm spending the weeks checking all these things off my list and it comes down to 50 bags of hot dog buns, which I've been specifically instructed to get from Aldi.
Are you sure? I say. We can just as easily get them from Costco or Sam's club. 
No no. They say. Aldis has them for 50 cents. 
Can't argue with that logic. I say.
So I try calling Aldi to have them set aside the buns. Do you know what Aldi's automated phone response is. It's a short message, not even thirty seconds long, and it goes something like this.
_Thank you for contacting Aldi US.
The phone numbers for our stores are unlisted, which is part of our business model, which helps keeps costs low for our customers. To learn more, go to our website._ And then it hangs up on you. You know what else Aldi does? They lock their grocery carts. You have to have a quarter in order to use a shopping cart. And whenever you have the great grace of not having to use a quarter, it's the freaking lotto. You are set for life. (At least, that's how people act.) Any way, I'm at the door and realizing I cannot acquire a shopping cart (a problem I never dreamed I'd ever have) and I'm praying they have enough buns. Never mind how I'm going to get them out of the store. Sure enough they do, so I just have to cart them out of the store. Problem. No cart. So I go up to the cashier. He, probably having dealt with weirder requests in his time, happily helps.
We cart the buns up and he rings me up. No bags, by the way. That's another thing. Aldi's doesn't give you bags. You bring your own. I don't know if it's dawned on you yet, reader, but I was woefully unprepared for what was supposed to be a simple visit to a grocery store. So I stand there, 50 packs of hot dog buns, paying with my personal debit because they also don't accept credit cards. People are staring. This does not surprise me.
You having a Christmas party? Cashier asks.
Oh yeah, huge movie event. I say.
What if I told you I wasn't? I wish I said, just to mess with him.
I pay and we part as unlikely friends and I load every bag individually into my car and head to work, weary from my strange journey into the unknown.

Aldi, it's a weird place.
Happy New Years nerds.

_News: I started a news section. See? You're reading it right now. Also, I cut my hair._

So, right now, life is shaky. Which is cool, life should be shaky right now. I can image years from today I'll be kicking it back on my #yachtspaceship, thinking Nikki why were you so worried you little snot? Obviously you were going to get that treehouse mansion on Pluto that you always wanted. But right now I am not supreme president overlord of Pluto, and thus I describe my life as shaky. I think that's okay, to say that I mean. Like, when you're ride a nightmarishly fast tilt-a-whirl moving at the speed of sin you're not going to say "wow, what a reasonably rate of speed for this specific mechanically ambiguous ride" but you're not going to be like "I TAKE ABSOLUTELY NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR MY ACTIONS WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME OH CRUEL UNFEELING DEITY" either. Shaky, I feel, is an accurate assessment without being to dramatic.

Thing is, I've been in this cycle lately of getting sudden small bursts of energy where I feel like I can handle not only my life but everyone else's as well, then after a week or so I crash. I crash hard. Ask my mom, the poor woman is nothing less then a saint.

_If you're looking for the point, see below.

Out of all the things in my life, one thing that's not shaky is my squad. See, me and the gang, we were a long time in the making. This is the part where I point out my first and last beloved, God, who in all his infinite knows just how deep my little-snot-ness goes and had enough smarts to know who to place in my life before I found myself in the company of the amazing people I know today. And to those people I say, I'm sorry. Really, I am. If I could go back and smack myself, I would. I so would. But, hey, thanks for teaching me in the art of general pleasantness. Here's to you, you great heroes of humanity.

But, anyone. This group, this gang, they are all little me dreamed of and more. I never thought I could hang out with so many strong, interesting, freaking funny people who are somehow a good time waiting to happen just by existing. And I can't believe that most of you have been in my life for as far back as I can remember and just now I see you. But enough about me, this post is about them. And, hey, if you don't see yourself in this post, I love you I love you I love you, but this one's for the first responders.

Look at them, so tolerant of their nerd.

Firstly, props to the parents

I could write a book on these two individually, but they belong together. They spoil me rotten. They showed me God. They let me choose him. They taught me how to love people. They taught me how to love me. They were patient. They took interest in things they weren't interested in. They gave me wit. That one bares repeating. They gave me wit. When you laugh at me (if you laugh at me) that's not my jokes. That's their's. They support me, in every regard. Mentally, spiritually, financially. They believe in me, lately more then I do. That's the parents. They're good at their job.
BTW, if you see red hair in the picture to your left, then don't worry. That's just a college freshman in 2013. If you see white and gold hair, then you're wrong.


Secondly, the siblings still living at home

Listen, if you watched Geeks Under Grace Gaming for it's short lifespan, you saw me playing video games with Sean. (Or as he like to call himself, LeSean James.) I will be the first to admit that Sean is much cooler then me. When you've got a little brother who you can call up and just be like "hey, come over and play Octodad with me in front of a camera" and all he says is "hold up I'm rocking out to Twenty One Pilots" Then you're doing family relations right. And Jenny is in the process of teaching me how to girl. Please understand, you might as well ask her to teach a potato how to girl. Let us all take a moment to appreciate this monumental contribution she's making to society. Honorary mention to the older brother, Alex, who while not being in the state still watches Doctor Who which makes him my best friend by default.


Now, these guys

Here's what's what with these two. They are both in love with Jesus and living it well. I also don't know what either of them see in me or why they keep me around. Both of them are fluent in internet. One of them taught me what real music is, one of them taught me what real food is. They are both funnier then me. They are both SO easy to talk to. Without them my videos wouldn't be possible. Without them a lot of things wouldn't be possible. And, most importantly, on the most basic level, they get it.

To the crew,
Guys, I love you.
Thanks.

Hello Friends, it has been a long time. A long, long time indeed. Over half a year if I’m not mistaken. I know I have a reputation for spontaneously falling off the the face of the planet, and seven months is a quite a bit of catching up to do, so I’ll give cliff notes.


So why am I here, blogging, again?
Because I want to be. Because I’m starting a show on Geeks Under Grace about writing and I figure I make some of mine visible. Because at the end of the day before I was a secretary, student, or youtuber I was a writer and above all I am still that. And I like telling you people my opinion. And I like having control over things. And I’m bored.
The long short of it is that I’m here talking about Jesus and Books and Business as usual until I disappear again so if you’re into that type of thing then you’re in the right place. And for now, until my next post, enjoy these pics.
Until next time nerds.