hand me that ice pack, wouldja?

it's been a heck of a two weeks. i'd liken the ride to a roller coaster, but to be honest, it's felt more like riding a pogo stick. takes me back to those days of creaky, punching springs and that uh-oh moment when you pogo the pavement at an angle a smidge too sharp and whang off into the bougainvilla. i've got news.

first, i received word on my college program submission a couple of weeks ago, and i wasn't accepted. (i hope i haven't posted about this already--i'm a dweller, so it's difficult sometimes knowing what i've said out loud.) on the surface, this is bad news.

i've been thinking, though, and i've decided it truly is for the best. this semester i've been taking two advanced writing courses at the community college (the dept chair teaches the courses and holds a longstanding relationship with the university english dept), and i've discovered i'm not that academic a writer. i fall somewhere between literary and genre, and i'm happy there. the emphasis in these programs seems to be heavy on the literary, and that would try my patience in the long haul. i really don't appreciate long noses and the tendency to look down them.

so, i'm off on my merry way.

second, i received word this weekend that one of my stories submitted to the community college award-winning literary magazine has been accepted. so, yay! no payment for the honor, but the story will be considered for a prize or two. and it's a print publication credit, which is nice to add to the portfolio. the great thing about this for me is that the magazine is a literary magazine, one which focuses on literary writing (i assume), and the story they've accepted is planted firmly in the thriller/horror genre. it's a freaking monster story, and it got in. double yay! my hopes of blending literary writing with genre storytelling may be working out.

i'm still waiting to hear about two other submissions; will let you know as the news unfolds. carry on, soldiers.

the other sexy ursula

tugboat sent to me this poem this morning:

Please Bring Strange Things

Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
And the ways you go be the lines of your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
And your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well-loved one,
Walk mindfully, well-loved one,
Walk fearlessly, well-loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
Be always coming home.

---Ursula K. Leguin

ursula's been recommended to me, specifically her short story collection "The Compass Rose", but the above poem is my first direct exposure to her writing. i'm already in love.
i see ursula shimmering up the beach in her white bikini of imagery, her lush sensory evocations swirling about her like gusts of tangy sea air. i long to be her 007, to devour her words and shoot them like bullets from the muzzle of my literary gun. O, ursula! i'm so happy to have found you at last!