Archive for December, 2005

Get glad

I’m making like a freakin’ Pollyanna and playing the Glad Game. I am glad that at least now I can quit checking the mailbox every day. It was really getting irritating, especially in the rain.

I don’t really have anything else to say, but this is my last chance to post this year, since I’m going to a family New Year’s party in a few minutes. So I wanted to post. And use my little angry sphinx emoticon.

My Kobold Kompanion is super needy tonight. When she gets super lovey like this, she just wants to purr and chew on my foot, which really really hurts. It’s worse when she uses her claws. It worries me a bit that my foot tastes so good to her…

That sweet smell of rejection

Got my second rejection slip today. Second in my life, first for fiction (other one was for poetry).

Feel like shit.

Shit shit shit.

I’ve got nothing else to say about it. I’ve been struck with Tourette’s or something.

I’ve been dying to use this crying sphinx icon, but lately I’ve been riding so high, like bad underwear, I couldn’t imagine anything getting me that down. Nice of the literary agency to oblige, a whopping 3 weeks later than their listing promised they would.

Suck!

Grrr, I just gotta suck it up! I plan to get lots and lots of these icky squares of heavy bond paper, I can’t turn into Random Profanity Girl every time.

So instead, I’m going to launch a new “column” as it were of my LJ:

My Kobold Kompanion
Now, not every adventurer is brave (or stupid) enough to choose a Kobold for her animal companion (and I use “companion” in a strictly non-kangar** sense here), but Maimer is like a part of the family. The last surviving member of her clutch, she has few other redeeming qualities. She is chaotic evil, after all. Her life consists mostly of long naps, punctuated by aimless ambulatory periods of loud complaining and, if she’s not feeling too lazy, chasing her arch-nemesis, my sister’s Kobold Kompanion, Peebag.

There, I feel better already.

May the blog be with you

Okay, I’ve gotta do it, too. I have to plug our new blog, Dead Fish and Unnamed Substances: Life Among the Stacks, an irreverant look at libraries from the inside (the stinky side), somewhat along the lines of Is That the Library Speaking? by Ken Hornsby. And if you’ve even heard of that book, kudos to you and your Random Knowledge check. The blog depends heavily on the comedic value of kangar**s, which have become the butt of so many of our dirtiest jokes that they must heretofore be spelled with asterisks in place of the o’s.

You know who else must now be spelled with an asterisk: my friend agathos_daimon‘s dog, Bilb*, who tonight chose to redefine our relationship. I’ll say it this way: If he doesn’t call my right leg tomorrow, it’s going to feel very cheap and used. I suppose I should feel special, particularly after learning that mine is the first leg to tempt Bilb* into cheating on his long-time lover, the Didgeridoo. (What is with our despoiling of honored Australian traditions?) Anyways, maybe this is why the Sphinx is winking. But not why the Sphinx is hungry. Don’t read that much into it. I’m just a bit peckish, is all. Dinner was a long time ago.

School’s out forever

Under these dirty skies,
Her dirty wings, they let her fly.

“Dirty Wings” — Megan Slankard

Probably won’t get a chance to write tonight, so I thought now would be a good time to inflict some of my poetry on you. But unlike the Vogon captain, I know you have the option of surfing away on the net when the pain in your left eye socket gets to be too much.

Here goes. This is something I wrote the other day after reflecting on the tangible aspects of Hell School (I mean High School): the physical, inanimate, emotionless objects that become charged with emotion in my memory. I think I’m done tinkering with it. For now.

“School Materials”

Everywhere, this maze
of energy-efficient cinderblock
painted with school spirit;
Up close each drip, each divet,
The glossy, porous wall,
I know it.
Blind, dumb mineral,
Dead, unyielding,
Unable to absorb my hurt,
Bouncing it back like
the clang of locker doors
or tetherball chains;
Cold, like the glassy squeak of gym floors,
Hard as the ring of voices off shower tile,
Cuts deep like the battering of the bell
whose Voice is Law buzzing in the walls
long after its clamor falls silent.

There all done. Now, that wasn’t so bad was it? Was it? Hello? Aw, damn.

Tired but wired

Just got home. Maybe that’s not late for you guys (whoever you are, reading this) but for me it feels sepulcral. Okay, not really the right word, but I’m going for feel not literal meaning at this hour. Late night last night and it looks like I’ll be out really late tomorrow night, too. Suddenly I have a social life. This is entirely new to me. I come from a long and noble family tradition of vegging out every night until about nine when we turn in. At our house, we call it “assuming the position”, which might sound dirty to some of you, but it just means once the dinner dishes are cleared away, Dad, Mom, me and sis adjourn to the family room and take up our informally assigned seats (recliner, love seat, rocker and floor respectively) where we stare at various home improvement programs and That Seventies Show syndicated re-runs until it’s late enough that we don’t have to feel ashamed of going to bed. Recently we’ve discovered the Colbert Repor(t), which has given us a new reason to stay up til ten.

That was my life.

Now I’ve got all these friends who are so into doing things that I’m almost never home anymore. It feels great, like I’m really alive! But I also miss the quiet old days with the fam. But it’s okay, I can do them both: I just need to set aside quiet time. It’s a skill I just haven’t fully mastered yet.

Well, gotta get to bed. Working the late shift tomorrow and then straight to JBX for fun. (Why did that JBX thing fail??)

Sphinx smileys

Woo! I did it! I made my own emoticons! Unfortunately I’ve only figured out how to upload a few of them. But here’s my favorite, the sleepy one.

Mmmm… sleep. Sounds good…

Under the big top

Well, the fam is acting more like themselves today. A little vacation will do that. Here’s an example of “normal” at my house: I came downstairs to find Dad at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the yellow pages. He immediately starts quizzing me on things like, “What do you call a group of jellyfish?” and “If you call a dog’s tail a leg, how many legs does a dog have?” I thought he’d gone crazy until I tried to peek over his shoulder at the phone book and he slapped a hand over the page to hide the answers. I never noticed this before, but apparently our yellow pages have trivia tidbits on every page. I guess it’s just in case, after discovering that all the places that can change your tires are closed because it’s the day after Christmas, you might feel instead like finding out that a group of jellyfish is called a smack.

And in case you’re curious, the dog still has just four legs because, according to Abraham Lincoln, calling a tail a leg doesn’t make it so. We also learned that a group of crocodiles is a float and when a bunch of emus get together, it’s called a mob. Large numbers of emus must be a lot scarier than I ever realized.