My Lazy Human (by Pneuman)

I am disgusted.

My human has finally gotten her act together to start writing again, but she's still not committing herself to the craft.  I can somewhat understand that she has to work to make a living.  Not all of us can live in caves and roast peasants.  I keep reminding her that she'll have more income if she actually SELLS HER WRITING, but that doesn't seem to make a difference in her work habits.  Still, I can understand why she feels compelled to work three jobs if that's what it takes to keep her from starving.  I guess...

But now my human has become obsessed with an activity known as "running."  Dragons aren't really big on running.  Our legs are better suited for leaping into the air or ripping the intestines out of a live cow.  Even if our legs were built for running, I'm sure flying would be much faster. 

My human has one of those car things that transports her to and from various activities (that aren't writing), so the running isn't even a means of getting her from one place to another.  In fact, she runs up and down the same stretch of sidewalk four or five times.  It's the most boring thing I've ever heard of.  She does it because she says it's good exercise, and I GUESS I'll give her that.  I have just seen her get a far more efficient calorie-burning workout from Jerkface, her pet elliptical machine.

Jerkface hasn't gotten much use lately because she's been running.  Up and down the sidewalk.  Over and over.

Sigh.

Well, today my human went to work for a few hours.  Then she came home and ran a little over five miles.  The running took more than an hour of our writing time.  Then she came home and took her own sweet time showering before FINALLY sitting down to write.  She wrote a few paragraphs and had the nerve to get up before I told her she could finish. 

"Where do you think you're going?" I asked her.

"I'm going to go make dinner.  I'm hungry," she replied.

"Not until you write some more."

"I'll write more later," she said.

"PSSH!" I said.  "I've heard THAT one before.  Look, I'm a Dragon-Muse.  I Muse.  That's what I do.  I can't Muse if I don't have a writer to Muse for."

"Chillax, Pneuman," she said.

 "Is 'chillax' even a word?"

"It's a wombo," she said.  "A word combination.  They're the latest trend in the English language."

"KILL THEM!  KILL THEM WITH FIRE!"

"Don't be so dramatic.  People have been defiling the English language for centuries."

"You're telling me.  I've actually witnessed it.  That doesn't mean I'm going to accept such atrocities from you!"

"What I write in my novels is your business," she sighed.  "What I say in real life is mine."

"Look, Fair Ruth, you know I think you are an amazing writer, and you know I would maim anyone who says differently, but I am getting sick of you neglecting us.  I didn't want to mention this, but there's this lame garage band down the street that could use some Musing."

"Yeah, right," she said.  "You'll never leave.  Where else are you going to find a human who will type up your blog posts, even when they're calling her lazy?"

She had a point.  "Look, just sit down and write another page...it won't take long."

"I just ran five miles," she had the nerve to tell me.  "That's kind of my 'get out of writing free card.'"

"You can rest and write at the SAME TIME!" I shouted.

She shook her head and left the room.  Well, an hour later, I flew in to see what she was doing.  My human was sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of peanut butter and honey (she's recently become quite addicted to this revolting dish), and watching Jeopardy!  She's not even smart enough to WATCH that show.  Plus, she could have spent that time working on her book, or editing another book, or trying to sell another book.

Do you see what I have to work with?

...I really won't leave her, though.  That garage band sounds like a torture chamber.  ...and I prefer to be the one doing the torturing.

How to Train Your Human (by Pneuman)

I haven't personally seen "How to Train Your Dragon." My human went to see it and didn't take me with her because she didn't have room to smuggle both me AND her snacks into the theater (What!? No Dragons allowed? That's a ridiculous rule). She told me all about it, though. Apparently, it is her kind of movie. She's all excited about buying it for her sister's little humanlings for Christmas.

I honestly don't remember much of what she told me about it, except she said that the Dragons weren't intelligent like my "brothers" and me. She said they reminded her more of kitty cats than Dragons. I'm all right with that, artistically. Cats are interesting animals. If Dragons are going to be compared with any other animal, I suppose I'd rather it be a cat than anything else. As long as everyone realizes that Dragons are actually ancient, intelligent creatures, I don't mind people imagining them to be like other simple animals.

However, I must caution anyone reading this to never accuse a Dragon of being "trainable." On the contrary, given the fact that I am the muse and my human is the writer, I'm really the one that "trains" her to write. This is much more easily said than done.

If I had a normal human with a normal 9-5 job, I would suggest establishing a writing routine. Since my human has three jobs and a schedule that changes every week, this is impossible. Some nights she comes home feeling super and just wants to write the night away. Other nights, she comes home tired and grouchy and just wants to play on facebook before going to sleep. Sometimes she has an hour between jobs where she can pull out the laptop and write a few paragraphs. Other times, she doesn't even have time to drive to one job to the other.

Time/routine is just one of the problems I have in training my human. Since she has three jobs, she has three different responsibilities that are greater than or equal to her writing. She is constantly thinking about these three jobs and the humanlings at her three jobs, even while she's writing. She tries to console me in this by telling me that while she's at work, she's always thinking about writing, but that's not much of a consolation.

Clearly, to adequately train my human, I must rid her of her three jobs.

I think a viable solution to ridding my human of her three jobs would be to find my human a wealthy mate. However, there is a trick to this. I want my human to find a mate who is wealthy and willing to pay the bills so that she can quit her jobs and write; however, I don't want a man so attractive to her that she will focus on HIM instead of her writing.

My ideal mate for my human would be a rich older man who just needs an attractive female at his side to make him feel young and successful. Now, I've expressed this thought to my human, and she said there are names for men (and women) like that, and she doesn't want any part of it. Her ideal man would be a 27-35 year old devestatingly handsome literary agent with a Scottish and/or Australian accent, who's about 5'8 and has "mad guitar skills." Though the literary agent part would come in handy, I think a man of that sort would probably distract her from her writing more than the 3 jobs distract her from her writing.

Therefore, if any 27-35 year old devestatingly handsome literary agents with Scottish and/or Australian accents, who are about 5'8 and have "mad guitar skills" ever show romantic interest my human, I will be forced to eat them.

My human doesn't like the idea of me eating her potential suitors, but I know what's best. I am training her, after all.

I have more to say on the subject, but I must break up a fight between Jerry and Bion. Jerry is putting jujubees in Bion's tail cap...again.