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Just throwing up a flash fiction piece I wrote for a blog contest. 100 words on a bullying situation:

Buttons backed up against Master’s legs, trying to squeeze through the crevice made by calf touching calf, seeking a type of reverse birth where he could retreat back to the safety of the womb.

Across the dog park the huge white poodle, curly coat tamed into meticulously shaped puffs, glared at him. She trotted over, mouth slightly open to reveal her sharp incisors.

“Go play!” Master sounded annoyed as she pushed his bulky pitbull body forward into the dusty enclosure.

The poodle stepped forward delicately and appraised him.

“Please don’t,” Buttons whimpered.

“They’ll blame you,” she said as she lunged.

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As I was walked to work, I pondered the fact that I’m one step closer to the age of 30, one step closer to death, and needed to go buy a spanx bodyshaper because I had failed to keep up with my ab workouts. Suddenly a voice, male and vaguely Borat-like, rang out behind me:

You’re very skinny!

…I don’t know if it was meant as a compliment or not, but thank you Euro catcaller, for saying just the right thing to an old lady on her birthday.

Hi. Haven’t blogged in while (which isn’t really surprising, given my attention span), but here’s a little something I wrote during my subway commute today:

The blister on Lainey’s big toe was a scab now. She hadn’t even noticed when it had stopped being soft and aqueous and turned into a hard, dark oval.
She sat down the hardwood floor, cross-legged so she could cradle her foot in her lap pick at the thing.
A month earlier, she had never known that her pretty, pale toe could turn the color of a sun-ripened plum.
“That’s a blood blister ya got there,” her father had said from the side of her hospital bed, staring at her plum toe and avoiding her eyes. He’d held her small hand in his roughened one, clenching so tight that she could feel his pulse throbbing against her fingers. She had pulled her hand away.
“Will they have to cut it off?” she had asked, feeling a pang of pleasure at the possibility. This was a traitorous toe, a stupid appendage that had caught the edge of the steps so she fell into the man’s strong grip instead of up and away from him.
“Like in Cinderella?” she added, closing her eyes. “They cut off the stepsister’s big toe so her foot could fit into the glass slipper.”
Her father had looked away from her blister, away from her completely, and Lainey saw that there was something tight and tender in the way his face screwed up.
“Fairy tales,” he had muttered, his head jerking awkwardly toward her and his gaze landing somewhere over her shoulder. “It’ll scab and fall off.”
He chanced a look at her arm, but flinched at the bruises and looked away again.
“No prince charming in this story anyway.”
And he had been right.
Now, Lainey pulled at the scab, tearing it off in little strips until the dark spot was gone. The skin beneath was soft and new looking. The skin of a baby.
She stroked the skin, reveling in the feel of it, in the knowledge that this part of her was fresh and unsullied.

That ain't right.

This is why advertisements shouldn’t be allowed to go under the headline on news sites. Terrible juxtapositions such as this could be avoided.

Osama Bin Laden is dead. Some people are saying that we shouldn’t be celebrating this. This news didn’t make me want to run into the streets waving an American flag. It didn’t make me want to ululate in front of the Times Square Jumbotron.

But it did make me think of being shaken awake by my dormmate nearly 10 years ago  as she asked “Doesn’t your Mom work by the Twin Towers?” It makes me remember watching in horror and disbelief as the towers, which had always loomed large and seemingly ever present over my hometown of Jersey City, fell as if they were plaster models. I remember hearing my father’s voice break as he told me “The second tower has fallen.”–he was watching with an unobstructed view from his Harborside office, without the buffer of unreality provided by a televised news feed. I didn’t hear from my mother for hours because the cell phone towers were overloaded. I remember hearing the words “al Qaeda” for the first time.

So, no, I’m not going to dance in the streets. I know there are many other problems facing this country, none of which can be solved by the death of a man who had become little more than a figurehead. But if people want celebrate, I certainly won’t be among those judging them.

It’s been quite a while since I posted. I’ll try to be more prolific in the coming months. I’ve been stuck on the winter train to Depressedville for the last few months, but Spring is here now! I have great friends! I have love! I have a good life! Basically: time for me to hop off the train and get back into the business of being happy.

I don’t have much to say now, so  I’ll just share my favorite ee cummings poem.

since feeling is first

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
– the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

Maybe this is just some bullshit faux realization, but I think part of the reason I fall into funks (of the mood, not the body) so often and so consistently is that I have super high expectations of everyone else, but have consistently set the bar pretty low for myself. So, as part of my “2011, I’m gonna rock your world” campaign, I just signed up for a month of unlimited yoga classes via Groupon, and I’m going to try to go a lot. Ok, at least two times a week. Maybe this will be the start of a calmer, more centered Shaunasaurus? Although my mantra is still gonna be the same:  “I have come here to chew bubble gum and kick ass, and I’m all out of bubble gum.”

What did I write on page 2?"

I am 28 fucking years old and I still haven’t learned that, apart from actually putting in work, the most important rule of writing is saving your document!!!

R.I.P. Document 1. I wish I had saved you when I had the chance instead of thinking Ooo, let me just finish this sentence, I’m on a roll. And then watching the screen flash and all my work disappear. Good times!

This morning on the train, I looked down at the woman sitting in front of me and thought to myself “What an ugly hat.” A moment later, she stood up and said “Hello everyone, I would like to provide you with the daily Word. Today’s is ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged.’ Amen. Thank you.”

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!?

Monday after work, I read a great romance novel by someone I have actually spoken to (albeit online). It was a fun read, and inspiring because the author is just a normal person like me.

Tuesday after work, I watched four episodes of Full Metal Alchemist and then read book 1 of Harry Potter.

On Wednesday, I spent some time outlining two romance stories I’m working on, one of which is about faeries and the other is about demons. I then read book 2 of Harry Potter and started in on book three. All of this was done while drinking pear cider beer.

It has been a fucking awesome week so far.