Monthly Archives: November 2012




Be careful what you say,

To a quick-witted woman today…

One may be safer,

Avoiding the chaser

If a comment of yours gets away.

I’m not saying that this is bad,

If a woman’s too smart to be “had”…

Just makes life a challenge

If sudden imbalance

Causes you to run on, a tad…!

You suddenly know you are pegged,

When pulling is abruptly legged…

Her comment about age

Sure stopped me mid-stage,

Any more and mercy I’d have begged!

–Jonathan Caswell






A little bit of this and a little of that,

Assuming this will happen without a family spat…

Only so much room

For ornaments to groom

The Christmas tree when doing “tit-for-tat”.

First we do the lights,

And then by all rights…

We do the garland next

Putting balls betwixt,

With meanings truly mixed.

Putting tinsel over assumes

One has one of those POWER vacuums…

When the season is done

It isn’t much fun,

Picking tinsel up by hand all over the room!

–Jonathan Caswell

Another recovering perfectionist…LIKE ME!

Balance and Grace

I have many big plans. I am going to read all the classics. I am going to write a blog post every day. I am going to start a vegetable garden, and teach my son sign language, and start my own business as a freelance copywriter.

But for all my planning, I have don’t have much going on. I am, it seems, overwhelmed by possibility and unable to see what I should do first. Combine that with past starts-and-stops that have ended in failure, and I have a recipe for stagnation.

One of the most paralyzing symptoms of perfectionism (and my tendency for over-analysis) is that thinking about things is great, but actually starting things is nearly impossible. For a recovering perfectionist, the entire process of a project must be perfect—I must be an expert and get everything right along the way. I struggle with the idea of learning as…

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Stonecoast MFA in Creative Writing Blog

By Aaron Hamburger

I’m an avid tennis player, so last summer when one of my partners canceled our game at the last minute, I thought I would get some extra practice by hitting shots against the wall of a nearby handball court.  Yet, after a few minutes of hitting, I became frustrated.  The reason?  I couldn’t tell whether my shots were any good because there was no net.

While in the middle of a heated tennis match, I don’t exactly feel warmth for the net, particularly when it snags a ball that would have been a brilliant winning shot against my opponent.  In fact, in such cases, I have been known to give that net a good hard smack with my racquet.

And yet once the net was gone, I keenly felt its absence.

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Cats are cool—even when they bother the dickens out of you!


OK. I’m going to admit something. And a lot of you are not going to like it.

I don’t like pets.

No. I REALLY don’t like pets.

I’m not a dog person, I’m not a cat person. I am a, “Oh God, get that thing away from me!” person. The kind of person who crosses to the other side of the street if they see a dog walker approaching. The kind of person who leans away awkwardly when someone asks them to pat their cat. The kind of person who gets disproportionately annoyed when people post pictures of their pets on Facebook. I don’t like the way pets smell. I don’t like their fur. I don’t like the fact that they hang around all the time, but don’t talk. What’s the fun in that?

I blame my parents. Growing up, we never had a pet (apart from a brief dalliance…

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