The puppies are restless. I’m keeping a little brown-nosed one who has black stripes running up her nose. We named her “Tiger,” but my mom says if we give her away like we are the other 5 pups, her owners will rename her. “Tiger” is not a girl’s name, it seems. So I’m keeping her.

The blister on my wrist cracked and bled just a bit. Will it never heal?

And I read a good book. A friend of mine told me once that anyone can publish a book. It isn’t such an amazing feat to get something published, not if you have the right agents and the right material. Books get published because people predict that other people will read them. Not for any intelligence level or deeper factor.

He told me that, while anyone can write anything, most books are just actions. Words.

I’ve determined that while it might be just fine to simply say how a person feels, it would be a great accomplishment to be able to convey that through completely unrelated context. It would be a good goal, I think. Something that leads a person to understand more than when they cracked the cover.

Books make me fall in love over and over. Something my drop-out brother and college-bound brother, neither one, really gets. One simply doesn’t read, and the other reads action books, espionage and from start to finish there’s no letting up. It’s nice, sometimes, not to be forced to think. But the mindlessness really bugs me.

I can tell I’ve read a good book because when I finish the last page, there is the wish that it’d go on. More than that is the quiet. The peace.

Then I realize I’ve been learning, the whole time. That there was a deeper meaning, something so subtle and resonant it seemed to sneak between lines and paragraphs. When it’s done, I sit back and for a long time I stare at the wall thinking nothing at all. Because the best ideas are the ones you don’t think about, I guess.  They’re the ones you feel, and can’t really explain in straightforward words and sentences.

And the creation of those peaceful moments is not planning, I’m thinking. But it’s also not reckless writing, not like blogging is. More, it’s knowing what you want people to know, and telling it in the quiet moments. There aren’t many quiet moments in non-stop action novels, unless they’re moments I can’t quite comprehend just yet.

So then you have to think, if there were one thing I would want people to know, what would it be?

Be sure to spray sunscreen on the part of your hair, otherwise it hurts to brush and eventually peels like you wouldn’t believe. No, that’s not dandruff, I swear!

That probably isn’t such a good idea. Though it would be funny if more people started putting sunscreen in their hair, only to realize it doesn’t come out. At least, mine doesn’t. It’d be a decent thought experiment, if anyone had months to waste on writing for the cause.

 

Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia- Fear of the number 666.

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- Fear of long words.