metaphorical band-aids

Submitting poems and fiction has become a bit of a painful process nowadays. I think it's because I've done so many submissions that I'm beginning to fear literally running out of places to which to submit. The fear of having no choice but submitting to the sorts of places to which I was told not to submit (i.e. little-known online publications that don't pay) is becoming a very real and legitimate thing. I really don't have anything against little-known online publications that don't pay but during my training at art school for creative writing...well, I was advised against sending to such places and the idea's sort of become ingrained into me. Fighting that is difficult and it's not very fun.

It's become like pulling off a band-aid. We all know what that's like, we all know that metaphor. Needing to do something quick and painful for your own good and if you prolong the process for too long, it just becomes painful but you can do it with minimal pain if you brace yourself enough and are willing to accept it as a necessary but temporary pain.

I hate writing those submission e-mails and getting half the cover letter written but being afraid of formatting the document how they want it or choosing which version of my authors' bio to use and so I leave it for a bit to go make some tea or do some entirely unnecessary cleaning or play something on the piano that I've played at least a hundred times before or lay on the floor and talk to more light fixtures. But this is what we call "procrastination", and it only makes the process of pulling off the metaphorical band-aid harder.

I think a lot of things for me are like pulling off a band-aid. But sending my writing to other people especially so.

I pulled off a metaphorical band-aid yesterday and I've just pulled off another metaphorical band-aid today. I intend to pull off more.

More light fixtures.

So you know how I have a habit of lying on the floor and ranting at light fixtures?

I went into a room, lay down, looked up at the ceiling and saw no light fixtures. I ranted anyway despite my disappointment; it was one of my generic "what is life what am I doing what is the unfairness and horror of existence why am I dissatisfied with everything what do people even think they're doing why are humans even a thing what is this planet" things, with the added question of "why must I be in a room with no light fixtures". Because it's just not the same without light fixtures.

Well, I left the room, and when I came back, I promptly lay down in another part of the room

and I looked up

and there was a light fixture

and I just let out this constant stream of joyous laughter because yes there is a light fixture here, I can finally rant at an actual light fixture.

I just ranted in joy and there was a huge smile on my face as I just lay there and looked at the light fixture.

It's amazing what can bring happiness to certain people.

Zahnpaste

Yesterday, I taught a worker at Target the German word for "toothpaste".

I was there with my aunt and we were looking for toothpaste and I said something to her, just off-hand and conversationally, about how I like the German word for toothpaste. I said it aloud. It's "Zahnpaste". Said like "TSAHN-pasta". I then spelled it for him (because he asked) and then explained some things about how certain letters are pronounced in German.

His co-worker then came over, having heard what was going on, and the guy and I explained the thing to him. The guy who had initiated all this said, "I think I'm going to remember this for the rest of my life."

It's things like this that keep me going in life. Little opportunities like getting to teach the guy who works at Target the German word for "toothpaste".