4:16 p.m. And now. I'm going to try to be subtle here. I'm not a subtle person, so this will probably not turn out so well. I'm many nice things, but I'm not a very aggressive person. I'm incapable of pushing to the front of the line. I tend to hop up and down in the back of the room with my hand up, waiting to be called on. And I've always, always waited my turn. Even if the shadows are getting long and half the team has gone home already, I will still wait. And wait.

So this is a hard thing I do here, but do it I must. You see, I'm very proud of my pages and my web site, ephemeral though they may be. I'm thrilled and happy every day that people wander by on their way to someplace else to read a few stray words. I like the pretty pictures. I like the fuzzy edges on the pretty pictures. I believe in working hard. I believe in magic.

But I also know that people are busy, in a hurry, rushing to their own destinations. It's easy, therefore, to be overlooked in the day-to-day melee, even if you've worked all night with a flashlight and a dental pick to get things just right. It's harder still to capture someone's attention for any longer than a backward glance.

I accept all these facts. I have made peace with fleeting moments, although I still make wishes on fallen eyelashes. The technique is mere simple wizardry: Hold it for a second on you fingertip, close your eyes, and then blow it away.

So that brings me to the reason for all this hemming and hawing. I have a favor to ask. There's no nice way to do it, except to beg a little. But believe me: I wrap my shawl tight and I do it for my art, not for myself. Really. My poor little hungry art.

See, there are these awards, see.

If you keep an online journal you're encouraged to vote and ... and ... I couldn't help but notice that I sort of kind of am eligible for a particular category (new journals) and that's only because I've started mine within the proper time frame, and I would never bring this up except for the fact that on the page giving the info and the rules they've got the wrong dates, the entirely wrong dates, the dates for last quarter's awards, not this quarter's awards ... so you'd have to be a mind-reader to figure out who's eligible and since this will be my one and only chance to be nominated, I was thinking, you know ... I was wondering if maybe you could consider the fact that indeed, I do in fact fall under the general time constraints and all ... and so if you were so inclined to want to vote ... and you went to the page and then you began to wonder: "Now who's *new* these days?" well, I'm just trying to say that I am, indeed, *new* and it would be such an honor if you could consider my journal for this prestigious award -- but please, please don't think I'm being pushy or needy or begging or anything -- that would just be plain wrong and I know it ... there's nothing worse than a pushy broad, except maybe an old pushy broad in a babushka, which I certainly don't want to be.

So there you have it. My wish not to be missed in the blink of an eye.

I just don't want to be overlooked. You know, fade into the woodwork ... because of a simple typographical error on the dates. It's so hard to stand out in the crowd ... and you feel so ... alien and out of place when you're *new* and ... but there I go, begging again.

Oh, and if you keep a journal and want to vote, you have to do it by October 13. Just so you know.

There. Now I feel all dirty and small. But if you wrote these pages, you'd be gnome now.