Exciting events loom on the horizon. Look for an announcement early this week about a new venture, one that involves the furry guy and me, and lots of bookshelves. Hint: it comes in small printed packages. And large and medium ones…

They say thirty one is too old for trick or treating. Then again they also say you’re only as old as you think you are. Now in that spirit, let’s just say someone roughly that age decides that soliciting candy or other tax free donations is a nifty idea. A person of such ilk has a very special need for a costume. Otherwise said trick or trick treater will stick out from the curb.

Here’s some things I, er…someone my age, could dress up as for Halloween:

1) An IRS agent. Already have the cheap brief case, starch shirts and calculator. Audit time, baby!
2) A judge from traffic court – gavels are cheap and I stole, that is neglected to return my graduation gown.
3) A parent collecting candy in proxy for a child. Do you really know your neighbors? Well, a dark and stormy night is no time for introductions that might warp fragile minds. Dad or Mom should take the risk and reap the bounty instead.
4) A cult member. There’s no easier moment to recruit for INSERT CULT of CHOICE HERE than when the whole family expects someone else.
5) A librarian. It’s a good opportunity to demand all occupants return overdue books, particularly ones they never checked out.

I’m leaning strongly towards number three, that is if I did consider trick or treating acceptable for someone my age.

Rejection has its place. For awhile I kept my rejection letters, scanning them once, never to revisit them. Few writers do, although there’s some who think it’s a nifty idea to post them on their web sites, complete with the name of the publisher, editor or agent that turned them down. But I had my pile, and then it hit me, why the hell keep these? These letters are the equivalent of bills already paid. I don’t keep paid bills around.

So I shredded’em. Just like nuking any other useless piece of paper, there was zero emotional response.

And that was the cool part for me, that it meant absolutely nothing to get rid of them. Why should it? They’ve already served their purpose.

I’m not trying to prove anyone wrong - I’m writing.

Nothing like Monday. There’s just nothing like it. By the time I had a chance to blog, it was Tuesday.

Before this site, I used to read other blogs, particularly those by writers. Call it blog envy. Diaries, journals, blogs whatever we call them this week - to me they are the same a low cost of entry podium to share ideas.

There’s one blog/journal I’ve followed for a bit now, evany.com. Originally it was a site, mostly static text, all the pages pink. Then the author added a journal, one that stressed function over elegance. It’s funny and sometimes witty. I can’t remember how I found it in the first place, but for some reason I kept reading. Recently the updates stopped. Perhaps they will return shortly?

The entry stoppage brings me to the real challenge of blogging - the burden of content rests with the author. Come to think of it, that’s the biggest challenge of writing as well…

Being part English has a few advantages. Mostly, it sounds cool when speaking the phrase very quickly without dwelling on the ramifications. For instance, a major disadvantage is the matter of dental health. Somewhere between twelve and twenty years the enamel enters retirement. Once that happens, it’s a blurry nightmare of cavities, fillings, and stern warnings from the dentist.

This Thursday however, stands as my all time best and worst appointment.

Sam ( sits in chair ): OK, let’s do this.
Dentist ( raises drill ) : Hold still please.
Sam: Doesn’t the Novocaine work better before we start?
Dentist ( inserts drill in mouth ): This will feel a like a cold pressure. Don’t move.
Sam: BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ
Dentist ( reinserts drill ): OK, almost done.
Sam: BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ
Dentist: There we go. OK and now the filling..

Fifteen seconds later, the terror ends.

A harrowing, yet merciful and short dentist experience.

Another question for the furry guy.

Dear Buddhapuss,

Have you ever, and will you ever program your own Zen learning app?

Michael
Washington, US

Dear Michael,

The short answer to your two questions are no, no and yes. Let me explain, no until now I haven’t programmed a Zen Learning app. I have tried. Alas, the fur slides off the keyboard after long coding fests. Also, sam refuses to serve me Mountain Dew. This denies me the focus needed to code all night.

And another tragic no - I will never program a Zen learning app.

Now to the yes. There will be such an app. Tech guy and I are cooking up a nifty little page, where you can ask an avatar that looks an awful lot like me questions in real time. You may learn from such encounters, you may not. Certainly, Tech guy is learning about Zen and I am learning that Tech guy needs a life.

Yours in pats,
Master Buddhapuss

P.S. You are the last person eligible for a men’s XL. Expect an email in the next day to confirm mailing information.