https://www.facebook.com/410940086392561/

Justin Collmann, Ph.D., 435 Petaluma Avenue, Suite 146, Sebastopol, CA (2025)

09/04/2019

Dragonfly Becomes an Unbearable Sycophant
After his negative evaluation, Dragonfly considered starting his own business but ultimately decided that forging a new path was too overwhelming. There were so many obstacles. He and Mrs. Dragonfly wouldn't have enough money to cover the bills. Paying taxes on his own business would be so complicated. He would be isolated from other people. What if the business failed? Then, he would end up back at work…right where he started. He felt very good about his many reasons for keeping things the same. "The devil you know…" he thought.
Instead, he settled upon creating a new version of himself at his current job…Dragonfly 2.0. When Dragonfly went back to work that Monday, he turned on the afterburners. At the morning meeting, he asked for clarification after every point that Flea made. At the end of the meeting, Dragonfly invited anyone who was interested to join him to watch a Ted Talk at lunch about maximizing productivity. He even provided a brief overview of the main points of the talk, admitting that he had already watched it over the weekend, and just wanted to watch it again to take in the finer points. By the time he finished his summary, he had extended the meeting by an extra 15 minutes. And he did not stop there. That evening, he sent out a group e-mail, asking for feedback on a draft that he had just completed. No one responded to the e-mail, but Cricket responded the next morning…in person.
"If you send out another late night e-mail to show everyone how hard you're working, I'm going to come over to your house and set your garbage cans on fire." said Cricket. With this, he walked away and left Dragonfly dumbfounded.
Looking for reassurance, Dragonfly asked Flea if he had been receiving Dragonfly's daily updates on his progress, Flea responded awkwardly.
"Oh yes, I get them. Thank you." Flea then looked down at his feet. "I think I have a conference call now." He walked into his office and closed the door.
When Dragonfly arrived home from work after the third day of his new effort, he could barely stand he was so tired. When Mrs. Dragonfly got home from work, he was already asleep on the couch with the TV on. Dragonfly woke up when she turned off the TV.
"I don't know why I'm so tired." he said.
"You've been really irritable, too." said Mrs. Dragonfly.
"I know. Usually, when I get home, I'm so happy to relax, but this week I've just been angry and tired."
"Maybe, you're overdoing at work, honey." Mrs. Dragonfly said. "You haven't been painting or drawing, either."
Dragonfly hadn't even noticed but he had not done any art since his evaluation.
When Dragonfly went to the morning meeting the next day, he tried to think of some questions for clarification, but his mind kept going blank. When he got back to his office, he kept waking up from long trances to find himself just sitting in front of his computer screen. In the afternoon, he forgot about a conference call with a group of clients.
About an hour before the end of the day, Dragonfly went into his office, closed the door, and started to cry. He was so lost. When he acted like himself, his performance at work fell short. When he acted like someone else, he wore himself down and everybody hated him. Maybe, starting his own business was the best option. But, he did not even know where to start.

08/28/2019

Dragonfly Gets Evaluated
Dragonfly and his wife had a picnic in the forest. They laid out a quilt, ate a big lunch and drank water straight from the stream. After lunch, Dragonfly was lying on his back looking up at the tall trees heave and sway in the breeze. Mrs. Dragonfly was reading a book. Dragonfly was feeling fine. And then, the light changed and a wisp of unease started to creep through his thorax. The yellow afternoon sun was changing into the orange sun of evening. The day was ending. The weekend was ending. Soon, it would be Sunday night.
Dragonfly snapped upright on the blanket.
"What's wrong honey?" asked Mrs. Dragonfly.
"I just realized that I have to go back to work tomorrow, and I have an evaluation."
On the drive home, Dragonfly ran through the gamut of emotions from fear to sadness, from anger to indifference, and finally to a state of numb paralysis. He did not like to be evaluated at work. More importantly, he did not care to be evaluated at work. He sought out feedback from his art teacher, Garden Spider. He did not mind being evaluated by his weightlifting coach, Ant. In both of these areas, he wanted to improve. But, he simply did not care about his performance at work in the same way, and he certainly did not care to entertain the judgments of his supervisor, Flea.
The next morning, as Dragonfly drank his coffee on the cattail by the pond, he stared into the surface of the water. He did not taste his coffee and was surprised when he found the mug empty. "Well, there goes the best part of my day." he thought as he looked at the dregs at the bottom of his cup.
When Dragonfly arrived at work, he was consoled to find his co-workers Cricket and Beetle dreading their own evaluations.
"I threw up this morning I was so nervous." said Beetle.
"I threw up this morning I was so hung over." said Cricket. "Last night, I became furious about this evaluation and I decided to have a drink to take the edge off. Well, it turned into 5 drinks and…here we are."
"I had to change my pajamas three times last night. I kept sweating through them." said Dragonfly.
The three insects were still complaining when Flea came into the break room.
"Howdy do, gentleman." said Flea.
` "Howdy do." said Cricket. "You're glowing like an 8 year old whose mom just told him he can have sprinkles on his ice cream. You love evaluations."
"Very funny." said Flea. "Very funny, indeed. We'll get to humor in the workplace during your evaluation, Cricket."
Flea turned to Dragonfly. "Hey there Dragonfly, let's you and me have a sit-down."
Dragonfly made his way to flea's office and sat down.
"Would you like a paper and pencil, Dragonfly?" asked Flea.
"Why?" said Dragonfly.
"To take notes, of course."
"Oh no, I'm good." Dragonfly paused for a moment. "I mean, yes, I would like a pencil." he stared into the corner of the room for a moment "And paper."
Flea provided a pencil and paper and began his opening remarks.
"Dragonfly, this isn’t just an evaluation of you. It's an opportunity for you to provide me with feedback as well. We all have things we need to improve on." Flea paused. "Including me."
"First, Dragonfly, I want to commend you for the relationships you have with the janitorial staff. I've noticed that you say hello to them every day and know all of their names."
"Thank you." said Dragonfly.
"Second, I see that you bring coffee for our office manager every morning. I love the effort to build community around here."
"Oh, thank you." said Dragonfly.
Flea paused to review his notes.
"But there are some places where I would like to see some more effort. In general, your enthusiasm seems to be a little low. In meetings, you always seem to be staring into space. In fact, when you're at your desk you seem to be staring right through your computer. Even now, you seem to be staring at something behind me."
Dragonfly snapped out of his trance. "Oh, yes…I do get lost in my own thoughts sometimes."
"Well, I certainly like that you're thinking." chuckled Flea. "But I need you to do some doing, too."
Dragonfly did not respond.
"Can you do that for me, Dragonfly?"
"Yes, of course."
"I hope so." said Flea. "If I don’t see some improvement, I'm going to have to put you on probation."
A shock of anxiety ran through Dragonfly.
"I see." said Dragonfly. "Well, I certainly don't want that."
"Me either. Now, what feedback do you have for me?"
"I don't have anything." said Dragonfly. "Thank you for your comments."
"Ok, Dragonfly. Let's pick it up a bit then."
With this, Dragonfly got up from his chair and walked out of Flea's office in a haze. In fact, he spent the remainder of the day in a haze. He heard Beetle and Cricket engaging in their usual banter at lunch. In the break room, he heard Ladybug go on about her son who had just gone to college. He read his e-mails and completed some forms, but he could not process any of it. The anxiety consumed him. As if someone had filled his head with cotton balls, everything seemed faint and distant.
When he arrived home, Mrs. Dragonfly noticed her husband's distress immediately.
"What happened honey?"
"Flea said he was going to put me on probation if I don't show more enthusiasm."
"Well, you are pretty tepid about your job." said Mrs. Dragonfly.
"You're not supposed to agree with him, honey!" Dragonfly cried. "Point of fact, though, he's right. I don't care about my job."
"It's funny, you know." reflected Mrs. Dragonfly. "I don't care about my job either but it doesn't affect my performance. For you, if you don't find something meaningful, you seem to have a hard time getting the job done."
"I know. I wish I was built like you." said Dragonfly.
"But you're not. You have to work with the equipment God gave you. So what are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Dragonfly.
"I don't know. I really don't know." Dragonfly said as he sat down at the kitchen table.
Dragonfly retreated into his mind. He felt a terrible anxiety and a terrible anger towards Flea. But then, through the haze, Dragonfly could see a window opening into the future, a little flash of inspiration. Maybe, he could do something for work that he actually cared about. Maybe. He just needed to figure out what that something would be.

08/21/2019

Dragonfly Gets Perplexed by the Irregular Nature of Progress
Dragonfly was feeling it. He snatched the barbell up from the floor and snapped it over his head. It was a new personal record for him, and he would have kept going heavier, too, but Ant came over and called him off.
"You're going to hurt yourself." said Ant. "Move on to squats."
Dragonfly did not feel like he was going to hurt himself. He felt fast and light. His shoulders, which were always tight, were loose and limber. Maybe it was the turmeric tea he had been drinking? Maybe it was because he had cut dairy from his diet? Maybe it was that new plant-based protein powder? He didn't know.
Dragonfly moved onto squats and felt an even bigger boost. He improved on his personal record by 20 kilos. Then, he went and did 10 pull-ups, another personal best. He was about to move onto the bench press when Ant intervened again.
"Is bench press in your workout?" he asked.
Dragonfly looked sheepish. "No. But I'm on a roll today."
"Time to stop and stretch. Again, you're going to hurt yourself."
Dragonfly reluctantly agreed. Truth be told, Dragonfly had ignored Ant's recommendations to stop in the past and had hurt himself…multiple times. Besides, he had accomplished several personal bests and all in one session. To think that just a few weeks ago he had been grieving the loss of his youthful athleticism.
A few days later, Dragonfly walked into Myrmidon Barbell with a spring in his step. He did a quick warm-up and then loaded up the bar with 5 kilos more than his personal best from a few days before. He chalked up, took a deep breath, and grabbed the bar. He pulled the barbell from the floor and immediately noticed that it felt really heavy. Dragonfly thought he might have misloaded it. He put the barbell down and checked. Everything looked good. "Maybe I need a little more warm-up." he thought. So he took the extra 5 kilos off the bar and went back to his personal best from the other day. But that weight felt really heavy, too. He was able to pull the weight off the ground but could not pop it over his head. What was happening?
"I should be able to do this weight. I did it easily just a few days ago." he thought.
Dragonfly went over to the pull-up bar, got through the first five repititions, and then realized that he was not going to make it to 7, let alone the 10 repititions he had accomplished earlier in the week.
Head down and jaw set, Dragonfly made his way to the squat rack to set the record straight. He loaded up the weight. 10 kilos more than his personal best from the other day. He put his shoulders under the bar and lifted the weight off the rack. The bar bent with the weight on either side. Dragonfly squatted down and then, with all his might, began to push. Suddenly, he felt a bolt of pain in his lower back. He cried out, and Ant ran over and pulled the bar from Dragonfly's shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
After a few minutes of walking around, the pain subsided, and Dragonfly sat down on a bench next to Ant.
"I don't know what happened. Two days ago, I lifted that weight easily. I should be able to do it today."
"Progress does not move in a straight line, Dragonfly." said Ant. "Now go get some ice for your back." With this, Ant got up from the bench to help another student, and Dragonfly walked down the hall, perplexed, to get some ice.

08/14/2019

Dragonfly Questions the Value of Love
Early in their marriage, Dragonfly and Mrs. Dragonfly rescued an aphid, Cheech, from the pound. Although Dragonfly did not have much fondness for pets, he grew used to Cheech. Cheech was always up to something: chasing a paper ball, climbing the sofa, looking out the window. Cheech liked to lay at the foot of the bed while Mrs. Dragonfly napped. He would come and sit on Dragonfly when Dragonfly watched TV on Saturday mornings. Cheech liked to go on walks after dinner. He and Dragonfly would go to a nearby park, and Cheech liked to run around under the trees. When he strayed too far from Dragonfly, he would lift up his head, see Dragonfly from across the field, and then run full speed towards Dragonfly. To Dragonfly, it always looked like Cheech was smiling.
One day, Cheech wouldn't eat his breakfast, and Cheech never missed a meal. In fact, he was always so hungry that he would try to climb the kitchen island to get some food whenever Dragonfly was cooking. Cheech didn't want to eat dinner either. When Dragonfly asked Cheech to go on a walk, Cheech did not run up and down the halls like he usually did. He just sat there. The Dragonflies tried to stay calm but, after three days, Cheech was still not eating.
The next day, when Dragonfly got home from work, he found Mrs. Dragonfly crying.
"I think Cheech is sick." she said.
"I think so." replied Dragonfly.
Dragonfly held his wife tightly against him. He rested his head on hers as she cried. He stared blankly at the wall behind her. Then, they went and laid on the floor next to Cheech and petted him. That night, they put Cheech between them in the bed. As he lay beside him, Dragonfly could feel Cheech's little breaths. Dragonfly waited for sleep.
The next day, they took Cheech to the veterinarian. Dragonfly carried in Cheech's sick, little body, and they all sat nervously in the waiting room. The veterinarian, a kindly firefly, laid Cheech on the examination table and gently touched Cheech's abdomen.
"I think Cheech is ok." she said. "With some antibiotics, he should be back to normal in a few days."
The Dragonflies breathed a sigh of relief. They gathered up Cheech, and his medicine and went home. Sure enough, Cheech was bounding around the house within a few days. But Dragonfly did not recover so quickly. He would sit on the floor and pet Cheech for long stretches. When they went on walks, Dragonfly would try to savor every moment. To Dragonfly, time with Cheech felt like water in a leaky bucket.
After a few days, Mrs. Dragonfly became concerned with her husband's melancholy. She approached him one evening when he was sitting on the floor, gently petting Cheech.
"Honey?"
Dragonfly startled.
"What? What?" he said.
"Are you ok?" Mrs. Dragonfly asked.
Dragonfly sat quietly, looking down at Cheech.
"I'm just worried that Cheech will get sick again. It was hard to watch him suffer. I wish that I could suffer for him instead. What is the point of all this? Why get a pet at all?"
"You don't mean that." Mrs. Dragonfly replied.
"I know. I know."
Mrs. Dragonfly sat down behind her husband and rested her head on his shoulder.
"Stay calm." she said. "Stay calm."
When Dragonfly walked into Myrmidon Barbell later in the day, Stag Beetle immediately noticed that Dragonfly was quiet and solemn.
"Hello, Dragonfly. You don't look well. Can I help you?" asked Stag Beetle.
"My pet aphid was sick last week. He got better but now I can't stop thinking that someday he will be sick again. He will die. I know it sounds silly but part of me wishes that I could die with him."
"That doesn't sound silly to me." said Stag Beetle. "We pay such a terrible price for loving another creature."
"Do you think it's worth it?" asked Dragonfly.
Stag Beetle considered this question quietly for a long moment.
"Yes. I do." he said. "There was a time in my life when I chose isolation because I did not want to feel the pain of loss again. I secluded myself. I did not cry and I did not laugh. I did not become frustrated and I did not feel satisfaction. I tried to amuse myself with books and coffee, but even these comforts became bland. One day, I found myself in the world again seeking companions, seeking someone to love again. I failed to stay alone. And, I did love again, and I did lose again. And I feel that whole parts of myself died with my loved ones, but I cannot stop trying even if that seems to be the logical choice."
"I don't think I could stop loving Cheech even if I wanted to." said Dragonfly.
"Probably not, Dragonfly. Probably not."

08/07/2019

Dragonfly Struggles with Being "Pretty Good"
Dragonfly finally made his mark on the page, and starting really was the hardest part. After making that first mark, Dragonfly could not stop drawing and painting. He got up early to paint in the morning before work. He came home in the evening, ate dinner, and went down to his studio to paint. He spent weekends walking around town, sketching buildings and trees. When he laid down for bed, he looked through art books and studied the masters.
After working alone for a few months, Dragonfly signed up for an introductory drawing class at the local art center. When he finished that class, he signed up for a still life class, then a landscapes class, then a portraits class. Then, he took private lessons in watercolors and eventually moved on to acrylics and oils.
One Saturday morning, Mrs. Dragonfly came down to the basement and was overwhelmed with the amount of work that Dragonfly had produced.
"Wow." she said. "You've done so much, honey."
Dragonfly stopped and looked around his studio.
"I guess I have."
But as Dragonfly surveyed his work, he did not feel satisfied. He had a nice watercolor of the pond by the house. He had done a lovely charcoal portrait of Mrs. Dragonfly, which she really liked. He had drawn a dozen sketches of old buildings from downtown. He even had some abstract oil paintings on huge canvases, a real risk for him. But he could not help from thinking that all of his work was just okay, good but not great, a nice effort but unremarkable.
"What's wrong honey?" asked Mrs. Dragonfly.
Dragonfly snapped out of his trance.
"I just wish I was better. I wish my work was really good."
"It is really good." she said.
"I mean really good."
Dragonfly was thinking of the gallery at Arthroville's Center for the Arts. When Dragonfly had just started, he loved to walk around the gallery and see the work of local artists. He was so impressed that there were local insects producing work at such a high level. Someday, he thought, he could display his work there. But recently, after taking all of his classes and spending hours in the studio, he had been avoiding the gallery. Now, when he walked into the gallery, he could not help noticing that his work did not pop in the same way as the paintings on display. He did not know what he was missing, but he knew that his work did not measure up. To make matters worse, he had showed one of his paintings to a ladybug at work the other day and she had called it "cute." Dragonfly knew she meant well, but he was destroyed. He wanted to be a real artist. Nobody would call the art in the gallery "cute." It was mesmerizing or unsettling or moving but definitely not cute.
Dragonfly went to an open studio later in the week with the intention of asking the wise old garden spider her thoughts on the matter. Dragonfly had taken all of her classes and idolized her work. He wanted to be just like her someday.
"How long did it take you to get so good at painting?" Dragonfly asked.
"53 years." she said without hesitation.
"Oh." said Dragonfly. "Well, how old are you?"
"53." she said.
"And" she continued. "I painted 10 to 14 hours a day from the age of 20 to 45. And…during that time I was receiving instruction everyday and getting constant feedback from other painters and professors on my work."
"For 25 years?" Dragonfly asked.
"Yes." Garden Spider replied.
"Why did you stop painting so much?"
Garden Spider pondered this question for a long moment.
"Maybe, I shouldn't have stopped. Maybe, I should have kept going. I don't know. I don't think about it much."
Dragonfly stayed for the remainder of the open studio and worked, but he could not concentrate. He kept thinking that he had missed his window to be a great artist. He could not paint and draw for 10 to 14 hours a day for 25 years. He had a job. He was married. He liked to watch tv and go on Facebook. He liked to go on walks with his pet aphid, Cheech. Twice a year, he watched the entire Lord of the Ring Series, Director's Cut from start to finish.
Dragonfly dropped the paint brush to his side and stood staring into his canvas. It seemed that, at best, he could be a pretty good artist, and he was not sure if that was good enough.

07/31/2019

Dragonfly Has a Hard Time Getting Started
Dragonfly could not stop thinking about his plans to draw. "I could draw portraits." he thought. "I could draw portraits of our pet aphid. No, that's too ordinary. Pet portraits aren't real art. I could do abstract drawings or even better I could do abstract paintings. Abstract is real art. I might be the next Jackson Po***ck. I'll be able to leave my job. Mrs. Dragonfly and I can move to a cottage in the countryside of Long Island. I'll have my own studio." He stared off into space in the pleasant haze of his bohemian life to come. "I should start smoking ci******es. Yes. I should definitely always have a cigarette hanging from my lips. And drink absinthe, too."
That afternoon, Dragonfly went to buy art supplies. He would just start with the basics, just a few pencils and a pad of drawing paper. "Master the fundamentals, Dragonfly." he said to himself. But then he started to wonder. "What if I want to add some more depth to my drawings? It would probably be good to get some charcoal." So he added a 6 piece set of charcoal to his basket. Then, he decided that he needed some white charcoal so he added a 6 piece set of white charcoal to his basket. "But what about color?" he thought. "Life isn't lived in black and white after all." So he added some pastels. Then, he decided that it was inefficient to buy three separate sets so he put them back and picked out the 374 piece Deluxe Drawing Kit, which conveniently came with its own wooden carrying case. He felt good about himself, "Now, I don't have to buy a box to store all my supplies in." The basket was getting heavy so he got a cart…just to make it easier. By the time Dragonfly made it to the register he had upgraded the 374 piece Deluxe Drawing Kit to the 796 piece Premium Mega-Deluxe Painting and Drawing Kit that not only included a carrying case but also had an easel. He also had several canvases for oil and acrylic paints, watercolor paper, charcoal paper, a sketch pad, a painting smock, a paint palette, and the 2019 Instructional Compendium of Drawing, Painting, and Sculpture.
When Dragonfly arrived home, Mrs. Dragonfly looked surprised.
"I thought you were just going to buy some pencils and a sketch pad." she said.
"I know. I know." said Dragonfly "But, I just want to have everything I need before I get started. Who knows where this could go?"
"What do you mean, 'Who knows where this could go?'"
Suddenly, Dragonfly felt a little sheepish about his fantasy of a country cottage in Long Island. "I mean…I might really get into it."
Mrs. Dragonfly sighed and walked back into the house without offering to help carry in the supplies.
Dragonfly carried in his supplies, placed them in a corner of the basement (i.e. his studio) and decided that he had done enough for the day.
The next day, after drinking his cup of coffee by the pond, Dragonfly went down to the basement (i.e. the studio) and began unpacking his supplies. He stationed his easel in the corner by the window to get the natural light. He set out his pencils, paint brushes, charcoals, and pastels. Then, he put them all back in the carrying case because, he argued to himself, he might want to go outside and work sometimes. He laid out his watercolor paper, charcoal paper, and sketch pad. Then, he decided that he would keep the sketch pad upstairs in case he had any good ideas when he was not in the basement (i.e. the studio). "I should probably get a sketch pad for my car, too." he thought. Then, he took out a canvas and placed it on the easel. All of a sudden, a bolt of anxiety coarsed through his body. He took the canvas off easel and decided that he had done enough for the day.
The next day, Dragonfly went down to his studio. He moved the easel around to a few different places. He opened up his 796 piece Premium Mega-Deluxe Painting and Drawing Kit and examined its contents. He decided to take his sketch pad upstairs to find a good place for it. As soon as he got back to his studio, he went back upstairs to find a backpack for his drawing papers, again, in case he ever wanted to work outside. Then, he saw the canvases and hesitated. "Those are pretty expensive." he thought "I better store those in the closet so they don't get dirty." He stored away the canvases and decided that he had done enough for the day.
At dinner that night, Mrs. Dragonfly inquired about his foray into the art world.
"How's your art going?"
"Really well." Dragonfly replied.
"Can I see one of your drawings?" she asked.
"Well, I don't just draw, honey."
"Well, can I see one of your works?" said Mrs. Dragonfly a bit exasperated.
"Nothing's done yet." Dragonfly said and looked down at his plate.
"Well, can I see what you have so far?" she asked.
"You know, my art is a very personal thing and I would prefer if you allowed me some privacy. This is for me. Not for you." Dragonfly snapped.
"Geez. Ok." said Mrs. Dragonfly. She got up from the table. "Have a good evening, Monsieur Rembrandt."
"Rembrandt wasn't even French." Dragonfly said. "He was Dutch."
"You suck." said Mrs. Dragonfly and flew into the living room to watch tv.
The next day, Dragonfly went down to his studio. He decided that he would dive into the 2019 Instructional Compendium of Drawing, Painting, and Sculpture. He started reading but then decided that the light was not very good. He went upstairs to read on the couch and promptly fell asleep.
When he went down to his studio the following day, he found Mrs. Dragonfly looking through his drawing papers.
"What are you doing?" he asked as he rushed over to stop her.
"You haven't drawn a single thing." she said.
"Yes I have. I just threw them away because I wasn't happy with them."
"You're lying."
"No, I'm not."
"It’s ok honey. Art is hard, and it's really hard to get started."
"No, it's not." snapped Dragonfly. "I just need some more things from the art store."
Mrs. Dragonfly did not reply and just looked at him. In the silence between them, the realization came down on Dragonfly like an avalanche. He was avoiding starting. He could not put pencil to paper. He couldn't do it.
"Come on honey. Let's give it a try. I remember how hard it was to put my first piece of clay on the wheel. Let’s do it together."
Dragonfly reluctantly agreed.
"Ok. Take one of your pads and put it on the easel." she said kindly.
"Which one?" Dragonfly asked.
"It doesn't matter."
Dragonfly looked at the different pads of paper for a long time. Finally, he picked up the charcoal paper and placed it on the easel.
"Now, turn to the first page." Mrs. Dragonfly said.
Dragonfly hesitated.
"You can do it."
Dragonfly lifted the cover and stepped back from the easel. He stared at the blank white page. It felt like it was blinding him with its whiteness. He felt like he was standing on the beach looking out at a vast ocean.
"Now pick up a piece of charcoal." said Mrs. Dragonfly softly.
Dragonfly did so.
"Now make a mark on the page."
Dragonfly stood frozen, holding the charcoal in front of him. He stared into the whiteness of the page. It consumed his field of vision. He felt light headed.
"I can't do it." he said.
"Ok, honey. That's fine. I think you've done enough for the day."
With that, the two Dragonflies went upstairs together. Dragonfly laid his head in his wife's lap, and they watched tv on the couch.
"We'll pick up the charcoal again tomorrow." she said.
Dragonfly thought he could give that a try.

07/24/2019

Dragonfly Keeps Moving
As soon as the words came out, Dragonfly knew. A brief silence. A quick aversion of the eyes. The mutual effort to act as if nothing untoward had passed. As Dragonfly flew away to his next meeting, the worry began to creep into his system like a poisonous gas. He tried to put the thoughts aside but soon they filled his whole conscious, repeating, gnawing, causing him to break out in bursts of cold sweat. He hated to offend another bug, especially a client, and he had just been trying to get a laugh.
"I should call him right now and apologize." Dragonfly thought. "But maybe not. Maybe this was bringing too much attention to it. Maybe the bug hadn't been offended at all. No, he was offended. Maybe the bug shouldn't be so sensitive, grow a thicker exoskeleton, learn to take a joke. No, no. I should call and apologize. No. I'll give him some space."
When Dragonfly got to his next meeting, he could not concentrate. All the conversation sounded like so much background noise to his popping thoughts, a thousand tiny puffs of worry. Dragonfly stared into space. He kept checking e-mail on his phone, thinking that the client might write him a scathing rebuke. Finally, he was able to gain some semblance of calm when he gained a clear understanding of what would happen next. The client would report Dragonfly to the company for inappropriate behavior and take his business elsewhere. Dragonfly would be fired. Mrs. Dragonfly would leave Dragonfly and move back in with her parents. Dragonfly would get a job at Best Buy and move into a two bedroom apartment with four of his co-workers from the store. He would sleep in a twin bed and eat lots of mac and cheese. He would while away his time on internet message boards. He would tell people that he was going to start his own Youtube channel but never actually do it.
"Dragonfly?" His supervisor's voice came through the haze. "Are you okay?"
Dragonfly startled and then composed himself, "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well."
"Well, then why don't you head out for the day? I think we're pretty much done here."
Dragonfly decided to go over to Myrmidon Barbell to exercise. Maybe that would make him feel better. But when he got there he could not find his strength. Every weight seemed so heavy. All of it seemed unimportant. Empty. Pointless. His program for the day seemed incredibly long. Why was Ant making him do all this stuff anyways? He wasn't training for the Olympics. He was a soon to be fired, middle-aged ne'er-do-well that couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Ant came over. "Those weights look a little heavy today.
"I'm not really feeling it." replied Dragonfly.
"Are you injured?" asked Ant.
"No. I just said something stupid to someone at work and I can't stop thinking about it."
"I see." said Ant.
Both insects paused for a long moment, looking at the floor.
Finally, Ant spoke. "Just keep moving, Dragonfly." He paused again. "Finish your whole program, and then come back tomorrow and finish tomorrow's program."
Dragonfly thought this sounded simple enough.
The next day, Dragonfly decided that he would try Ant's recommendation at work. Dragonfly responded to all his e-mails. He attended both of his meetings and tried to pay attention. At lunch, he had no appetite so he took a walk. In the afternoon, he even cleaned up his desk and caught up on his filing. After work, he went to Myrmidon Barbell and completed his program. He felt empty but he made it through the day and the next three days in the same fashion: just moving.
At the end of the week, Dragonfly ran into his client at the local coffee shop. At first, they averted their eyes from one another. Then, Dragonfly walked over and greeted him.
"I wanted to apologize for that tasteless joke that I made the other day." said Dragonfly.
The client smiled, "It's no big deal. I say silly things all the time."
"I appreciate your understanding." said Dragonfly.
"Of course." said the client.
With this, Dragonfly grabbed his latte and walked out of the café. He felt the cool air on his face. For the first time all week, he noticed the light of the morning sun. He smelled the delicious aroma of his coffee and decided that at some point today he needed to lay down and take a nap.

Justin Collmann, Ph.D.

09/04/2019

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