Here is the Merriam Webster student definition of Disposition. I HATE definitions that use other forms of the same word; in my mind they are singularly unuseful.
Main Entry: dis·po·si·tion
Pronunciation: dis-p-zish-n
Function: noun
1 : the act or power of disposing : DISPOSAL
2 : ARRANGEMENT 1
3 a : one's usual attitude or mood disposition> b : a leaning toward a particular way of thinking or acting : TENDENCY, INCLINATION
I've written a chapter of a story, or a bit of it, for the WeekWord (the picture is an illo for the story--if you click on it, it will get bigger and you can see the background I designed for it):
Taming Uncle
Beast
Disposition
7th grade English, 2nd period, Tiny Lee Latham
7th grade English, 2nd period, Tiny Lee Latham
I
am not sure which is worse, Uncle Beast's disposition, or mine. Both of us have been growing fangs, and
those fangs are yellowing and honing themselves to a razor-edge. We are acquiring growls. Roars. Our eyes shoot flames.
We are both turning into ogres.
If I were writing a werewolf story, instead of the truth, I would say
that the moon was full and the transformations were nearly complete. Picture
saliva and blood dripping from our long, pointy fangs and you’ll get a pretty
accurate idea of how we are behaving—and feeling—right now.
We
are at each other's throats.
I
almost think werewolves would be a relief compared to Uncle Beast and me. (Okay, not really, I suppose.)
Neither
of us has slept for two nights. We've
been playing cards until we're bored out of our gourds. Uncle Beast is staying awake in hopes I'll sleep and he can somehow sneak away for a beer somewhere. Or find Pa's beer, which I have safely hidden. I'm staying awake in hopes of preventing that very thing. I’m almost ready to give up and tell
him where I hid the beer, or let him sneak out to a bar. If there are any bars open at 3:20 AM,
which I doubt.
In
some ways, though, it's worse for Uncle Beast. He is in the throes of withdrawal, Martin tells me. Martin Jakata
is Beast’s court-assigned shrink.[1] Martin has access to me via the cell
phone the Fuzz[2] gave me to
keep tabs on Uncle Beast. He talks
to me, not Uncle Beast. He tries
to calm me down when I get excited.
And of course, I am the go-between. Beast refuses to speak in person to Martin.
It's
hard not to get “excited” when yr[3]
exhausted. (Excited might not be the right word here. Or, maybe it is.
Tired but wired. (Excitement seems antithetical[4]
to exhaustion, doesn’t it?)[5][6]
Martin
(for some reason, he told me to call him Martin rather than Dr. Jakata, which
seemed weird at first, but now I'm used to it) told me that lack of sleep makes
you stupid. It makes you stupid
temporarily (short-term memory loss) and causes permanent brain damage, that's what he said.
I
don't like the idea of my suffering permanent brain damage because Uncle Beast
has turned into a monster.
Martin
says that Uncle Beast (he calls him Farley, or course), should be peaking about
now in his withdrawal, and that things will get easier. Why does that seem so unlikely? I guess because I'm so exhausted and
Beast is so beastly that imagining anything good is difficult. Really difficult!
This
is all happening because the court disposition gave Uncle Beast to
us. And Ma and Pa gave him to
me. To me. I'm 13. I'm in the seventh grade. I'm not supposed to go days without sleep. I feel like no one cares. They care more about Beast than about
me.
I
wish I were a cave woman with a big club and knew just where to hit Uncle Beast
to make him pass out without actually hurting him. But maybe that's only in the cartoons.
I
wish I had a pill I could give him that would restore his sunny disposition. To tell you the truth, I can hardly
remember that he used to be fun and funny.
Right
now, I am waiting outside the bathroom door. I'm listening for the little sounds that means he's in
there, doing what he's supposed to do in there, and not climbing out the
bathroom window.
I
can hear him cursing under his breath, so he's still in there. I want to sit on the floor. I want to lie down. I want to close my eyes, but the only
way to stay awake and keep tabs on Uncle Beast is to stand up. I can't even lean on the door.
Wait,
is that the window I hear, inching up?
Tiny Lee Latham (Mary
Stebbins Taitt)
[1] ok, he’s a
psychologist, I think, or maybe a psychiatrist, I’m not sure. I should ask him. But I have the right, as the author of
this memoir, to choose to call him a shrink when I’m tired, so don’t take off
for it, please.
[2] yeah, yeah,
I know, it would be more polite to call them the police, especially since they
are trying to help us—or, help Beast, anyway. But I’m tired, and Fuzz is better than “pigs” and some of
the other things Beast has been calling them, which I can’t turn in in a paper
for 7th grade!
[3] “yr,” in
this case, equals “you are.” Don’t
take off for it, Teach, because I am using it to indicate exhaustion.
[4] ha ha, I
used a big word. The thesaurus
helped me find it. And yes, I do
know what it means: direction
opposed or contrasted (as in opposite of), mutually incompatible.
[5] Ms X, please
advise, I’m confused about when it’s appropriate to use “parenthetical remarks”
and when I should use footnotes.
[6] I probably
should NOT address you directly, should I? Don’t take off for that.
And, of course, a bit of doggerel from the rhyming words offered at the end of the definition:
Disposition Doggerel
Poem #1:
A Cheery
Disposition Requires Good Nutrition
I have an admonition that’s worth some repetition
If you prefer good disposition avoid all malnutrition.
You’ll need some ammunition to form a coalition
to retain a dietician to write to a politician
to use his erudition to make a requisition
to get some great nutrition for all with inanition.
This bit of doggerel (above) refers to the definition of disposition as mood or inclination. The doggerel bit below refers to the definition of disposition as arrangement or disposal. (As in the disposition of a will.) (I will refrain from commenting further.) :-(
Disposition Doggerel
poem #2:
A Will’s Dark Disposition
leads to Inanition
Greed’s antithetical to manumission; that’s surely no
superstition
We could use a rescue mission if it contained a proposition
that would could save us from commission of miserly
competition.
It leads to opposition and the lust for acquisition.
Any statistician could illuminate the supposition
that a will’s dark disposition leads to imposition and
inanition.
2 comments:
Excellent Mary, all of it. Super story and poems.
Thanks, John--the poems are kind of silly and goofy, but then again, they're supposed to be. I could seem to write a real serious poem about this word.
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