Here’s a piece I wrote that was published in Springfield’s Own magazine on Friday. The magazine is a publication of the newspaper where my work is sometimes published. I see that the published version presents an interesting exercise in the significance of articles: Judging from the comparison between my rough draft and the printed version, it looks like “the hammock” in the second paragraph was changed to “a hammock,” and I’m not so sure about the result. The hammock I describe in the first paragraph is the same one that “Tara” is sitting in in the second paragraph, so, in my original version I wrote “A picture shows Tara stretched out in the hammock” (meaning the hammock from the 1st para), but it was changed to “A picture shows Tara stretched out in a hammock,” which, obviously, could mean any hammock on the property, and this change keeps the two paragraphs from working together the way I wanted them to (and makes it read as if there are two different starting paragraphs…almost as if I was supposed to delete one for the other, but accidentally left them both in). All because the articles were switched. Well, what can you do? I’m just happy happy happy to have the story published.

The Washington Post’s Style Invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are this year’s winners:

1. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

3. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

4. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

5. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.

6. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

7. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.

8. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

9. Karmageddon (n): its like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer.

10. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

11. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.

12. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

13 Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

14. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

15. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you’re eating.

And the pick of the literature:

16. Ignoranus (n): A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

Now that I have a little more time to myself, I’ve been reading, cooking, and writing a little more (I also spend far too much time on Facebook, and I do need to put an end to this). I just finished the book Olive Kitteridge and enjoyed it a great deal. It’s the kind of book that I would take with me to bed to read for a little while before going to sleep, but every time I reached my designated stopping point, I would think to myself, No–I’ll read just a little more, until  an hour has passed and I can barely keep my eyes open. It’s a very interesting book.   I’m also working on an essay that should be really fun and offbeat because the subject matter is fun and offbeat, but as I’m writing it, the piece seems heavy and predictable…not at all what I’m trying to get across. I hope to find the remedy to this soon. It’s making me a little bananas.  And I’ve been cooking! Tonight I made a potato and mushroom bake. Over the past week I’ve made guacamole, vegetarian chili, and black bean and potato soup.  And, I have a certain experimental fiction piece awaiting my commentary. That is next on my list.

I should really be asleep right now. More changes happening in this part of the world. I’m moving to part-time at the clinic so I can focus on racking up more freelance work. I just finished a story for the paper’s magazine last night, and I’m interviewing someone else this Friday for another story. Plus, I need to get started on another essay I’m writing (and to schedule yet another interview with the subject of that essay). Since I’m going to part-time at the clinic, I’m no longer working as an assistant. I’ll be working as the records keeper instead.  This job entails typing up the doctors’ notes for each patient, which means I’m learning a whole new vocabulary with which to play. Most interesting diagnosis today: puppy strangles. There is a medical dictionary nearby, so I can satiate my curiosity about some of the terms (such as puppy strangles). Today I’ve been feeling a little more optimistic than I have been. Perhaps it’s because I’ll soon have more time to dedicate to pursuits of my choosing. It’ll be a little tight financially speaking, but having the extra time is worth it in my opinion. I remember my grandmother, who spent her life working as a waitress or bartender, would often quit her job at the start of the summer, just so she could have the summer off. At the end of her vacation, she’d go find another job.  I think I may take after her a bit, though I’m too practical (and financially needy) to up and quit my job.  Going part-time is my way of taking back a little control of my time, and redirecting my energies to endeavors important to me.

Generally, I try to avoid television as much as possible. I have too much reading and/or writing to do and not enough time to do them in, so I really don’t have time to spare for tv. Yet, I find time to spare here and there. When I return to the house from work to eat lunch I’ll flip on the idiot box to see what I’ve missed in the news. If it’s the same ol’ crap, I’ll switch it to a sitcom (also the same ol’ crap, but crap I that makes me relaxed and mellow).  And, I always find time for Project Runway.  I look forward to Project Runway like it’s nobody’s business. The debut of the new season was last week; I missed it, but fortunately Lifetime replayed it the next day, so I’m all caught up.  As I was puttering through my day today a realization flashed through my mind: What day is it? It’s Thursday! Project Runway is on tonight! Woohoo! I don’t know what it is about artists working under pressure to make their creations, but I can’t get enough of it.

The thing is…I know I make it worse by telling myself, “I want this to change,” “I want this to happen,” “I don’t want this to happen,” “I don’t want to deal with this situation,” “I’ll be happy when this happens.”

I’m perfectly and completely aware that we think ourselves into feeling agitated or dissatisfied. I know that’s what I’m doing these days. I have a certain vision in my mind of what I want life to be like right now, and since that vision is fading, I’m stomping my feet like a child, and wishing it were otherwise. This is the very opposite of how Buddhism teaches me to handle such situations.  There is a great quote by Joko Beck that I snagged from another blog:

Life always gives us exactly the teacher we need at every moment. This includes every mosquito, every misfortune, every red light, every traffic jam, every obnoxious supervisor (or employee), every illness, every loss, every moment of joy or depression, every addiction, every piece of garbage, every breath. Every moment is the Guru.

I love this quote. It brings my thinking back to the present, and knowing that while I don’t have control over the situation, I do have control over how I respond to the situation. Intellectually, I know this, and often I’m able to apply it, but lately, I’ve fallen into old habits, and find myself pouting and stomping my feet more than I ‘d like to admit. And, of course, the pouting and stomping takes time away from actual action that could help me achieve my vision (but sometimes I don’t even know what action to take, which leads to further pouting on my part. You see where this is going.  (Nowhere)).

A new short at Striving for le mot juste (go to the blog tab). My goal is to write one everyday, but so far I’ve fallen terribly short of this goal.

Forgive my obsessive template changing. Once I’m in the mood to change, I keep changing and changing and changing. Anyhow, I think I’ll pause on this template for a while. It pleases me. Just so you know, I attached a blog to my website, and the focus of that blog will to set scenes, recreate moments, describe emotions in 150 words or less. I may cross-post those blogs here, or I may not. I haven’t decided.

I’m not a big fan of Keillor’s radio program on NPR, but I am a big fan of his articles, which we publish every Sunday in the local paper. This one on travel ran today, and it is one of my favorites.

“Fractious” is a well-worn adjective around the clinic, especially when referring to cats. Most cats come in calm, cool, collected, but become fractious as they get poked, prodded, and inspected. To be expected, I suppose. I wouldn’t like it either, especially if I didn’t understand the purpose of it all. I was asked to get Tommy out of the kennel; we were going to clean his teeth. Tommy showed them to me as I opened the kennel door; his fangs stopped me in my tracks. When I reached in again, he hissed, spat at me. Spat, as if he could obliterate my presence with his saliva. He had been tolerant that morning, but his patience had worn thin. Now, he’d just as soon sink his claws into me as to look at me. And he tried sinking his claws, but into other people. The specialists trained to handle such fractiousness.