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Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain


The (Cyber) Bag of Weasels

bread and puppet

"About as much fun as a bag of weasels"...when I first saw this Irish adage, it made me think of the life of a writer: sometimes perilous, sometimes painful, certainly interesting. My paper journal has always been called "The Bag of Weasels." This is the Bag of Weasels' online home.


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bread and puppet

Of course, because I had work this morning, I had insomnia last night. I flopped around in bed until roughly 2:30, at which point I got up, went and laid on the couch, and proceeded to read an old fiction writing book that happened to have a few good short stories in it. I've read them already, but heck, I read them again. At 3:30, I assumed a Stage One "twilight" sleep, went back to bed, and was awake again for another half-hour or so. Bobby was up at five--and so was I--and I had to actually get up for work at seven.

During that time, my mind wandered--as it will--onto a variety of topics. I thought about an original fiction story that I want to write after the monster that is Another Man's Cage finally gives me back my head. I thought about The Sil--of course--and sort of sketched out my next chapter, which I think is going to be POV-Nelyo again, and thought beyond the scope of this story. I wondered about poor Maedhros on Thangorodrim. I wondered how long and how much effort it took for him to heal. He hung there for at least five years. I have always marveled that he didn't starve or freeze, so I came up with contingencies--for the first one anyway. (I will trust the Elven hardiness to temperature to take care of the latter.) I will blame Ted Nasmith for this line of thinking since I was looking at his version of Maedhros on Thangorodrim earlier in the day and thinking that--despite my early affinity for it--I really largely disagree with it now. He has Maedhros all plump and healthy-looking and tucked into impeccable clothes. And Fingon is flying in with his sword raised. Why? Who does he think he's going to be fighting? My first interest would be holding on and not tumbling off that Eagle, but I guess I am not an Elf.

I think the reality--haha! when I start referring the The Sil as reality!--was much more gruesome. That story is what drew me to Maedhros in the first place; I know I will have to write it eventually, but I'd rather leave him in happy childhood forever.

When I came into work, I had annoyance right away: Diane, my coworker/nemesis has done this particular *thing* now twice in the same week that irritates the hell out of me. Keep in mind that I see Diane for maybe a total of five minutes a week. Twice in the past week, I have known that she was on her way in to the office and so have put a recall notice in her mailbox. Twice now, she has claimed "it is not there" and "someone must have taken it then" while giving me the look that says, "Dumb ass, you didn't put it down there, did you?" Ummmm...yeah I did. Yes, I graduated top of my class in college, so I think that makes me capable of walking down the steps and putting a single sheet of paper into the mailbox for the Eastern Shore team. Although I could be wrong. She is patronizing all the time. She likes to address me as "young lady," like, "Here is the file for the arrest I made yesterday, young lady." Yes, I am young--whether I am a lady is constantly up for debate :)--but I am also a professional and prefer to be called either "Dawn" or "Ms. Such-Such." If you're old-fashioned, I'll even bear "Mrs. Such-Such" to keep the peace. But my name is not "young lady." That makes me think of nuns and overbearing schoolteachers--in other words, people in positions of authority. She is not in a position of authority. Am I making too much of this? Argh!

To make me feel better, though, I went shortly downstairs afterwards to deliver some papers to the Central Maryland team of Brian and Lenny--who are the best coworkers a girl ("young lady") could want--and was told that I was not allowed to take anymore time off. "I didn't take time off," I said. "I was sick."

"Well, you can't get sick, then," Lenny told me. "Johnny's slipping when you're not here."

It is nice to know that my job--however simple and stupid it may be--gets done better when I'm here than when I'm not. I get accused of spoiling the warrant officers all the time by Johnny (my boss)--especially Brian and Lenny--but I think everyone appreciates it. (And Johnny is just kidding. He is the greatest boss and girl ["young lady"] could want.)

I was so flustered about my stupid ear yesterday that I forgot to mention that I dreamed the night before that I was skating and doing the most beautiful camel spins--no jerkiness whatsoever and an easy three revolutions--and when I woke up, I realized that I haven't had my skates on since the exhibition on June 1st. That is awful! I need to find a rink in the Howard County area so that we don't have to drive a half-hour to skate. (Plus Skateland's music sucks.) But it is funny, when I dream of skating, I concentrate even in my dreams on the little things that are required in certain moves. During the camel spins, I kept pressing my palm to the ground, and the floor was turning just like it does during real camel spins. (Although I could never kick into a sit spin, for some reason, which is frustrating, since I can do very nice sit spins in real life and merely mediocre camels.) I suppose I will be hearing soon from Miss Jackie about club lessons starting up again soon. Can I petition to have another day added to the week? So that I don't have to give up art-time for skating?

My head is still stuffy, and when I talk to Lenny on the Nextel, I hear it as, "Nmmmmffffnmmmfffgggulllmmfff," which is okay, since that is pretty much what Lenny sounds like on the Nextel on a normal day :)

I really need to write. So when I sign off from here, I am going to reread the last part of my last chapter and start on my new Nelyo section. (Do other writers forget what they wrote like the day after they write it? I think sometimes that there are two Dawn Felagunds: One does all the writing and the other does everything else. And they apparently don't communicate very well.)
Full of hope (and struggles),
Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain

Edited at 3:51 PM: I was just monkeying around with my email and clicked the "Back" button and got the email from Marta about her friend in London, who was just confirmed as one of the victims in last week's subway bombings.

I feel so sad right now....

Would everyone keep Marta and her family in their thoughts? I have kept her in mine and wondered (and waited) every day, hoping for good news about her friend. When I saw the email, I felt a soaring hope...it couldn't be bad could it? But it was.

This is a blind optimist's hope, but maybe if we all keep our positive thoughts, treasure our friends, and always give thought to what we do, then needless tragedies can be lessened in the future. I am no fool, and I know that "happy thoughts" will not stop terrorism, but somewhere out there, right now, is a lonely person who seeks the comraderie such "organizations" provide, who has been turned away by others for being weird or different....

It is a silly fool's hope, but it is all I can do right now.
  • Ahhh... to hear about the ups and downs of working life make being an unemployed student & housewife suddenly very attractive again.

    The writer and the other person - I know that feeling. I do still remember what is in most chapters, most of the time, but I am never completely certain if I know the person who wrote them...
    • I am chronic in my forgetfulness of chapters. I mean, it is really bad. I have to reread chapters every few months or completely forget what I wrote.

      This seems weird to me. I normally have an impeccable, uncanny memory (which annoys my husband because he can get away with *nothing*). But when it comes to my writing, I don't know....

      Sometimes, I even rediscover scenes, like, "Hey! I wrote that? Cool!" That makes the forgetfulness fun.

      What isn't fun is when it leads to inconsistencies, which is why I reread and reread and reread and take notes on it all.

      Yes, working life is certainly an up-and-down existence. I liked the work I did as a kitchen manager better, but it didn't pay as well, was way too stressful, and was physically painful at times. And this job gives me the chance to write pretty much all day, and so I will gladly deal with the Diane-monster for five minutes a week!
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