I'm a writer

Today I had the opportunity to re-eforce, erm, that is re-enforce the fact that I am a writer. Not only do I write, but I write things that are of considerable length. That, in my opinion, makes a considerable contribution to the supporting evidence for my whole being a writer case. It doesn't necessarily mean that I am a good writer, but in order to be a writer there must be enough written words to support that claim.

I just polished off the 106th page of a screenplay today. Now, that's just a rough draft, but one hundred and six pages is a lot. So, I'm celebrating for a short bit before I get back to work revising.

So, if you have a glass near the computer (well, if you have a glass near the computer you are probably very likely to have computer problems in the near future but we'll forget that for now) then raise your glass in a toast. Just a toast to anything. But most of all to doing things. Because doing things is what makes the world go round.

Cheers.

Shhhhhh!

It's Christmas morning! I woke up a little while ago because I was hearing music. I am at my in-laws house, so there are sounds that I don't recognize while I'm asleep. I woke up and looked at my clock. I thought 8:30. That's crazy! Then the morning mist cleared from my eyes and I saw that it was 6:30. You know how on digital clocks the six looks like an eight. (actually, on a digital clock early in the morning any number looks like an eight. For that matter, the numbers all kinda blurr together....I've had too much experience with early mornings and digital clocks for my liking)

But let's face it. I would probably be awake no matter what. I mean. IT'S CHRISTMAS!! (that's right, I yelled it in all caps baby) It really is. No matter how much I learn that Christmas is about Christ, or about the Christmas spirit (which according to all the Christmas specials I've seen this year oddly has nothing to do with christ....in fact, most of our Christmas celebration has nothing to do with Christ. I mean, Christmas trees...Not holy. 25th of December....probably not the actual date of Christ's birth. Disney decorations on the tree....not holy unless you talk to my mother in law. Let's face it, we're celebrating a pagan holiday, so it is only appropriate for the extraneous symbols like, oh, I don't know...Our Lord and Savior and all that He's done for us, to be pushed out. I have an idea. Maybe we should start a new holiday that celebrates the birth of Christ. That seems like a good reason to celebrate...Not that santa isn't cool, but he didn't save the world from anything except crying kids and he's sure made a lot of kids cry (I still remember the mall)) (yes, that was all in parentheses, so go back to the beginning and see what I was saying) Christmas is about waking up early and being excited to get or give presents but always waking up early....really early.

I am half tempted to change all the clocks to 9:00 and send my son around to wake everyone up. But I'll content myself with this blog.

Hey, it's 7:19 on Christmas morning. I have to bug someone...and isn't that what blogs are all about?

Merry Christmas everyone.

Well, I've done it again.

My wife and I have recently contracted with a major corporation to buy a child. I think it was Wal-mart or something. They had a two for one sale, but we decided that we would just get one (a girl). We'll buy another if we can handle this one. Maybe it's a conservative philosophy, but I just don't want to buy more than we can handle. We've already got a small appartment and I've been asking Kendra to go through stuff and get rid of it. And I don't want to get rid of something that I'll regret losing. Besides that, we already have two other kids, and I think that for now three will be plenty.

Speaking of my other kids, we've got to pick a name for this one. So we decided to be democratic about it and ask the others what they wanted for names. The youngest just thinks it's cool that mommy has a baby in her tummy, and wants me to tell him what the baby in his tummy is saying. The oldest is somewhat more helpful and he suggested a beautiful name.

Wonder Woman.

I told him, we can't name our little baby Wonder Woman because we've already got a Wonder Woman in our family. He looked at me quizzicaly, and then I explained. When your Mommy says something weird I just look at her and say, "Sometimes I Wonder Woman." So much for democracy.

He looked at me like I was crazy and continued to insist that the new kid is Wonder Woman. Luckily my wife laughed. I'm sure I'll get something back for it eventually though.

On another note. I have started to write another script. This one is a screenplay. I know what you are all thinking. "Why are you going to write another script when you haven't even sold the first one?" Well, even if you aren't really thinking about that (in fact, you're probably only thining about the end of this blog and why it is not coming faster.), I will answer.

I am writing a script because I want to. Yeah, I hope that one day someone rich and connected will read it and say, "I want to make this script into a movie and pay you a million billion dollars for it." But until that happens, I like writing. I really haven't gotten into writing a good book like I wanted to, so I will take back up the screenwriting software.

Well, until I am famous...

...

I'm sorry. Ok. I really just am completely out of creativity. I can't even think of something for a title. And I usually don't even think of my titles. That's the beauty of having a blog called 'Bad at Titles' I can write whatever I want, and so usually I just put in the first thing that comes to mind.

But nothing is coming to mind. That's bad. That's really bad, because I wanted to spend the two weeks of Christmas break creating brilliant written works with terrible titles. But now, not only can I not (That sentence is not a little unconfusing) think of titles, I can't even think of things to write.

Why do breaks always have to come after finals. Maybe we should have an extra week or two of school just to wind us down for finals. That would be a good idea, because the break is important and I feel that I should prepare myself.

Wait. I think I just figured it out. School is not here to prepare us for breaks. Work is not just there to fill in the time between vacations. It's the other way around...

Dang.

Publish

Sometimes you just gotta think. I know, it may not happen that often. Especially if you are me, but it does happen. And when it does, boy do I get a headache. Well not really, but it is a common bit of humor to make fun of people who are considered less than intelligent by saying that their head hurts, or their is smoke coming out of their ears, or the gears are grinding or something like that.

Ha! That just goes to show how little the people making fun are thinking. There is really no way for people to generate smoke from their brains (wether or not they use them often for deep thinking). Also, any student of anatomy will realize that there are no gears in our heads. There are only neurons and cells, and things like that. The only thing that could be true is the head hurting thing, and generally it is not a hurting but a slight disiorientation and a general grogginess. At least that's how I feel after Finals week.

Speaking of Finals week, did you know that Einstien attended practically none of his university classes. But that wasn't a big deal back then because the standard method for testing in universities of the time was a comprehensive final exam. An exam that covered all four years of school. Attendance would be a good idea, but c'mon this is Einstein we're talking about. He took his buddy's notes, and crammed (I guess I should say mega-crammed because it's not just one semester, it's eight. Four whole years of colledge crammed into one last bit of testing. Holy Cow!). Then, supposedly, he couldn't even think about anything that had to do with science for three months. Wow! if that's not an interesting bit of unconfirmed hearsay then I don't know what is. This is at least as true as the movie "I.Q."

Well, then, that's about all I can tell you about my thinking. I really have been. And I think that I'll continue to think. Maybe I'll even write a book about it. Maybe just a blog.

Writer's Blog

You know? Like writer's block, but blog instead of block. It's funny. It really is. Not writer's block. Writer's block is not funny at all. Even jokes made about writer's block are not funny. The only reason that this title is funny is because it is a pun, and not a joke.

But writer's block. No. That's just sad. It is people who sit at their desks (or tables, or laptops (if they have enough money for a laptop) or on the back porch, or balcony (if they have enough money for a balcony)) And drink their hot cocoa (or coffee (if they have enough money for cofee)). But I don't have enough money for coffee, nor do I even like coffee. And why am I talking about this when it was in a parenthetical. I mean, you don't talk about things in parentheticals. That's why you put parenthesis around them, to keep them out of the discussion. But here I am talking about my parenthetical and I haven't even put brackets around it. I didn't even put "quotes" around it. But really, finger quotes are an entirely different subject. In that case, I should have put parenthesis around my "quotes". (just imagine me doing the two finger thing right now.)

But, no, writer's block isn't funny. I mean, I have just laid out what may possibly be one of my most beloved pieces, but after the outline...nothing. I didn't have a single idea about how to write it. But that's ok. Writer's block, after all, is only temporary. And mostly what I do to get past it, is write. Or go do something else. But either way, I get something done. But writing is generally the better option. Because I can always go back and edit. And it's better to go back and edit that part when I have a whole lot after that. Because I probably won't need to edit the stuff that comes after, and I'll just be that much ahead. And when the inspiration comes, I will apply it to the rest of the story whether I have applied the edit or not. Because In my mind it has been edited.

So, do we change or mind, or do we edit it?

There's this guy...

Imagine, if you will, a man who has the ability to create music through movement. Not just dumb noises, and not exactly through singing either. I guess it could be a woman too. But imagine it.

As you watch he stands still on the stage. He begins by tensing and relaxing his body. A low beat flows out from him. He tenses his arms and a slightly higher note is struck. He tenses his legs and the note drops. But as long as he moves the beat is continuous. The music draws you in. There is no real melody yet, just a beat, but every single sound serves to draw you into his dance.

Soon, he moves his whole body in a circle. And the melody begins. His arms swing up from his sides and then back down again, but as they come down his waist bends and his hands touch the ground. He starts to bang his hands on the ground. You notice that the sound from his hands drumming is completely different. It complements his music, but it doesn't come from within him.

Then he jumps. The music peaks as he tenses his muscles for the jump, then pauses as he leaves the ground. He travels through the air without moving. He holds his pose, and there is a sense of timelessness that comes from the silence. As he reaches the apex of his flight, he prepares his body for the landing. There is a high, anticipatory strain in the song, and the he lands. From here the music and dance become frantic, frenetic. He moves quickly from point to point on the stage flinging his hands, legs and head in amazing directions. You can't take your eyes from his art. You watch in amazement, and listen in wonder.

As the performance continues you notice that his body is starting to tire. The notes sound less clear. As he frames his arms, they seem to lack the strength they had at the beginning. Everything sounds off key.

Then in one final motion, he pools all of his energy, and the music swells to a finale and he collapes on the floor. The music has stopped. You look at him, waiting for more, but the piece is over. Then he slowly rises.

There is a faint music in his movement, but it is so soft that you can barely make it out. He smiles and bows. The crowd around you erupts in applause, but all you can do is stare. Remembering the dance and the music. After the rest of the show has concluded, you find him and shake his hand. He thanks you kindly, and then you leave. Somehow you are changed. Somehow you know that you could make that kind of music, but the days pass, and the years fly by. All you have is the memory of the man who could sing through movement.

End.

Ok, I know this is a little wierd. But I went to a little show yesterday, and part of it was a dance recital of sorts. There were excellent dancers, and there were less proficient performers. But as I watched, I could feel something. When the dancers were lax, and their whole being was not a part of the music, I could feel it and see it. I could just imagine how the dance was connected to the music, and even more so when the better dancers would move. Their whole body seemed connected, and electric. It wasn't just, "Put you feet here, and you arms like this." Their whole being seemed created for each single move.

Then I had this thought. A good dancer controls the music. Even though in real life we can't make music in quite the same way as the man, a good dancer will make us think that it is true.

I have taken some dance classes, and I just sat there thinking, "What if I could do that?" It's pretty amazing. Our bodies are wonderful.

Now, you can make any connection you want from this little story. It has to do with life, with dreams, and all sorts of things. Or you may think that it's just a wierd little story.

But I learned something by writing it, and now I am a little better than I was.

This post is not about sleep deprevation

Have you ever had one of those days? I mean the type of day that you are just tired, and you don't know why? When everything drags, and you can't stay awake in class, and things just take longer to sense make...er, make sesne...er, sense. Well I can honestly tell you that I have not just had one of those days.

Yes, I am here to tell you that I know exactly why I had trouble staying awake during class (the real amazing thing is that I actually did stay awake). I am sleepy today because I stayed up most of the night two days ago playing a video game. Yes, I am one of those people...but I haven't gone to the meetings yet.

It's always like that though. You don't sleep one night, and then two or three days later you are still freaking out even when you do get enough sleep the next night. Well, I guess I should replace all of the yous in the last few sentences with I, but I won't.

I have heard that your sleep habits today, or tonight, affect your sleepiness for three days. Or in three days. I am starting to believe that. My grandpa (grandpa is a very wise man, although he has a harder time getting around a lot now-a-days he still means a lot to me) on my mother's side once told me that the sleep you get before midnight is much more effective than the sleep you get after. I guess that is how he made it ok to get up early every morning. That, or the fact that he lived on a ranch.

Anyway. I am pretty sure that grandpa was right. You should always listen to your elders. I...even if you don't do what they say, they usually know enough that they are worth listening to anyway.

I have my own little theory though. I think that our bodies work on a schedule. In effect, an adequate and regular sleep schedule does more to affect our sleepiness than anything else. At least for me. I find that I can easily train myself to wake up early, if I do it for a long enough time. I usually don't even get tired during the day when I do. But when I start to wake myself up, or go to sleep at the wrong times, then I really feel it.

Of course, I am generally sleepy anyway. I fell asleep in class all throughout high school. I sleep sitting up. I sleep lying down. I have even slept while marching...now that is a good Air force training camp story. So, my theories about why other people get sleepy are not even theories. Not in the scientific method sense of the word anyway. They are more like conjectures.

But I think you get the picture.

Voterific

Well, I can safely say that I have heard many people telling other people to vote. There's a hidden message there I think. As a society we don't really turn out voters. It may be a problem with our system, it may be human nature. I don't know how to get (insert current population of the United States) to care about the issues. I agree that it is quite important to vote responsibly, but is a real democracy really that practical...?

I guess that someone else thought the same thing, because we don't have one. We have a representative democracy (that's not the real name, but it'll work). I guess the founding fathers realize that their progeny would be pretty inept when it came to political issues. Actually, come to think of it, even the average joe in 1776 didn't know what was going on politically.

This means that even if we did have one hundred percent of our population voting, a large percentage of the votes would be bunk because of the general ignorance of the people. Then add in the fact that we campaign...Whoah, now that can sure throw a monkey wrench in the gears of our nation.

My best guess is that campaigning would work if it were a simple matter of educating the public about the issues, or people running for office. But it's not. Mudslinging, money, and just general popularity contests are the soup du jour. It turns out that most people who listen to the campaign ads gain a false sense of political knowledge (especially if they only see the loudest person's campaign).

"I watched that thirty second spot and now I will vote with confidence that I am making a very difficult choice correctly."

Even people who talk it over with their friends generally only have part of the story...but that's much better than not knowing anything.

So we vote for the people who will actually make the decisions. Now this can work. We vote for the person who we feel will represent our personal and political beliefs most accurately, and then we can go about our jobs creating an economy and working society while we leave the policy making in the hands of someone else...who we trust...hopefully....unless we didn't vote...or we didn't know who to vote for.

So is it better to tell people not to vote if they don't know the issues, or should we just push for a mass voting and hope that people really think about the politics and people involved.

Well, obviously we want every single person to vote responsibly (you know, study it out and then make an informed decision). Whoa, that sounds surprisingly like the end of an alchohol commercial. Drink...er, I mean, Vote resposibly. Because if you think about it, someone who is voting blindly, or without thought could do a lot of damage to society. It's almost better for them not to vote. Luckily we do have political parties that stand, generally, for a single set of standards. That makes party votersa little better.

I mean if you tell someone to vote, they might do it. So lets tell people to vote responsibly. Because really, it is important. Especially when the people we vote for will make the decisions that affect our entire country.

And besides, the last episode in the second season of Lost was interesting and extremely tense. It wasn't mindblowing, but it did give us a lot more than the end of season 1. I'm not trying to convince you of anything. It just gets me thinking a little. That's all I'm saying.

Montessori is for the poor kids.

My wife has found a job at a local pre-school. It is a Montessori school. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Monessori schools, it is based on the educational theory of constructivism. For those of you who aren't familiar with constructivism, it is the primary method of teaching at Montessori schools.

I'm glad that I could clear that up. (I attribute my circular logic to my older brother who gave me my circular logic.)

So, my wife is going to teach at a Montessori school. We shant be getting any more money than we get now, because my son will be attending the school. And since we don't have any more money, we can't afford a pre-school, so this works out fine. It is exciting after all to know that my child may be smarter than I am someday. In fact, he may be smarter than I am right now. He often seems to think so. But since I am of an extremely adult centered societey, I usually win anyway. And since he is only three years old, I don't feel too bad when I tell him, "I am sorry. No matter how many times I explain the evaporation/condensation/precipitation cycle it will become no clearer. So let's stick with 'rain comes from the sky because there's more room up there.'"

Actually, I have never discussed the rain with my children. But I have discussed clouds, and the sun (Which incidentally goes to sleep in China. And yes, you do have to go to sleep when the sun goes to sleep. Except in winter, and I'll let you know when that comes around.)

So, as I was saying. I like to drive my car. It really doesn't go fast. But it goes. And, like most americans, that is the main purpose of a car (I use the term 'car' here as a generic name for all automobiles). Some people get fast cars, or powerful cars because they like to drive. Those people are generally called Italians. Most americans, even those who have enough money to drive fast cars, think of a car as merely a mode of transportation, and they would generally like to spend as little time as possible in it. Hence the inordinate amount of traffic related violence and road rage.

My goodness people. Get a hold of you'se'f!

Peace out.

This one goes out to the one I love.

I just have to say something to my dad. I can't help it. I am compelled. Compelled, I say! At this point, you may be thinking that someone is standing here with a gun to my head or something, but that's not it at all. I am not even being coerced by method of food depravation. I've already had dinner. In fact I am quite full. My grand-mother-in-law took us out to Golden Corral, a local all you can eat place.

This starts me on the topic of 'all you can eat' restaraunts. They are evil. Wait, what am I saying. That is basically what any restaraunt is. Restaraunts just go about it in a different way.

For instance: If I go to Burger King and buy $6.99 worth of food, it is likely all that I can eat. If I go to Golden Corral then the same amount of money buys me all sorts of mass produced food that I can stuff into my body until there is no longer any room. They just have to make sure that I don't eat $6.99 worth of food. That's easy. At the rate they are getting food, only the heartiest of speed eating proffesionals (and here I refer to people such as our little oriental friend who ate about a billion hot dogs) would be able to come out costing the restaraunt more than they ate. Of course, there is all of the other overhead, but I'm sure it works because there are so many around.

Lastly I would like to point out a fairly popular alternative method to filling you up on the money you pay. This one is a little more expensive, at least for us. Take a high end restaraunt who charges upwards of fifty dollars for a plate. They make a killing in both ways. First, they charge an exorbitant price, and then they are assured that you have all that you can eat because, let's face it. Every one feels a little less like eating when they just forked out Seventy five bucks for the appetizer platter.

Of course, you could say that these last restaraunts charge for the ambience, and you may very well be right, but my point still stands. Even if you are comfortable dishing out (ha, I said dishing in a conversation about serving food(Ha I said conversation when I am really just typing and you have no way to initiate dialogue)) large amouts of cash for small amounts of food, you are most likely in a situation that is not conducive to eating (e.g. a date, a business meeting, or worse a proposal).

So, as I was saying. Happy birthday DAD! You have been a great father, and because you were born into your family, you provided me with a great heritage. I am thankful for all that you have done for me, and I am sure that I don't even know the half of it. Thank you.

I am also sure that at this point you would be greatful if I just stopped. Well, ok.

What does a blind man see in his dreams?

I have to tell you. I read textbooks onto tapes for the visually impaired, and I love it. I get to study all this stuff and I get paid for it. It's great.

I also noticed recently that I have comments on my blog. This presents somewhat of a problem. Of course immediately the problem is not appearent. You might think to yourself, "What? he's crazy. Isn't that the point of blogging, getting responses, eliciting feedback on your thoughts, participating in the larger world!"

Well, you may be right. And even I must admit, at least initially, that I do like the idea of comments. But I'm almost afraid to look. What if they disagree with me, or worse, what if they agree. They might bring up good points. These commentators on my simple rantings might even find something interesting to say. In fact, that is usually the case. And what do I do about that? Well naturally, society dictates that I respond. Even if I wasn't the type of guy who likes to get in the last word, I would feel compelled to respond to my readers. (I prefer to think of them as adoring fans, but that may not be quite accurate.) And then what? Do they respond to my responses?

It is an ongoing cycle of madness. Where once I was a simple man trying to just leak my mind into the internet, now I am involved in discussions. DISCUSSIONS! I would never have the time to just write anymore. I would be obliged to just respond to every notice. I wouldn't get any sleep. I would be constantly hounded by thoughts of response.

"Did I say something appropriate?" "Is there something there for me to read today?" "What do I do if nobody commented today?" "Is anybody listening!?"

It all becomes a practice in futility...So the question is; Should I even answer the comments at all? But what if I don't? Then my blog becomes moot. It is completely unknown, and undiscussed. I would never know that someone thinks my babblings are, "trite drivel." And that's important.

What I really need is a large group of people who sit around all day and comment on my blogs. This would incite new readers to come, and the conversations could grow and influence people all over the world, and all I would have to do is write. Hmmmmm. But on the other hand, I would become disconnected from popular opinion and current social trends. I wouldn't know how to interact any more, and my writing would suffer. Slowly my blogs would deteriorate until they were nothing but odd ramblings of a detatched individual.

Boy, I'm sure glad that hasn't happened yet. I guess I'd better answer my comments...the alternative would be unbearable.

The life at the end of the tunnel

I have to tell you, I don't get excited all that often. Truly, I'm a stoic kind of guy. Okay, maybe I'm not, but I can play at it to make a point. The point is that I am excited now. "Why?" You may ask. Well I may answer.

I wrote a script one day a few years ago. In fact, that's what made me realize that writing isn't the terrible burden placed upon us by English teachers. Writing can be fun...it can also be terrible agony. Most often it is a mix of the two. But English teachers insist on perpetuating the pain side of writing so that they can keep us from realizing the great joy called creativity in writing. I think that they want to keep it to themselves. It's a great conspiracy really.

Maybe there is even a negative correlation as shown by the graph that is now not appearing on your screen. In fact, I may or may not have done complex and completely accurate statistical studies, analysis, and computations that support this logical and irrefutable conclusion qua a real statistician: The more people that hate writing, the more joy is available to the individuals that know how to derive joy from it.

Those devious English teachers. But they didn't get me. No sir. I found out. I wrote that play, and now I write more. But I digress. That's not so impressive though. A lot of people digress. What makes my digression really impressive is that I digressed from my digression. I could say that I am a master digression. But I won't. I'll just tell you why I am excited.

This little play that I wrote has attracted the attention of a producer. I don't know exactly how since it hasn't been "Around", but I'll accept it. (note: I actually do know how. My friend who is an actor knows the producer and pitched it to them on a whim. however In order to keep the nature of this blog mystical, dramatic, and obscure, I will not include this note except in note form.) So I need to copyright, revise, and reformat my play into a screenplay so that I can jump on this opportunity.

The downside is that I must realize what is really happening. This particular producer is just beginning a production company and is willing to look at any script that comes her way. Little does she know that she will be getting a script of high caliber. I just have to write a new one quickly or she will just get my old script instead.

So, even though I don't (wink, wink) get excited often, I will let myself indulge in the dreaming that inevitably foreshadows huge success and fame. You can't trick me into thinking that the producer will realize the drivelesque quality of my writing. She will see it for what it is not. A masterpiece. I know this because I have seen it happen time and again on my favorite device for completely accurate tutelage, the movie screen.

We'll see if anything comes of it. Until then...or until my next post, whichever comes first, I bid you adieu.

Who ever heard of tchotchke?

Today I had a little insight. And this may be the most sexist thing ever, but I figured out why I must have the final say in my home.

I have a duty to provide for my family. Some people view that as a simple, "I must bring home the bacon." I just realized that it is a little different. I have a home, and with my wife we have a set of values that we want our family to learn. We are a religious family, even LDS, so we have a strong view of the after life and God's relationship to us.

As I said, I have a duty to provide. I don't just provide food and shelter, although that is a very important part of my duties. I need to provide an environment where we as a family can reach our full potential. In my belief, God will ask me at the judgement day if I have done this or not. For this reason, I am the one who must have the final say. Because I will be held responsible. Not my wife, not my kids. Me. That means that I have a duty to make sure everything is done, and done right.

That having been said. I don't begin to think that I need to be an evil dictator. I believe heavily in consulting with my wife. In fact, I know that she knows a lot of things that I don't know so I must rely heavily on her. Especially when it comes to raising our kids, since she has a degree in early childhood education and development.

My children also have the freedom to choose their life's direction. I feel that each of us made a promise to God when he sent us here, and we are the only ones who can keep that promise. But I will be held completely responible if I don't provide them with every opportunity to fulfill their commitment to God and live up to their potential.

I may be a dictator, It's my job. I am responible, and though I could not do a good job without the help of my wife and children, it is ultimately up to me. I give my life meaning by serving others, and my family must come first. In this way I fulfill my promise with God. If I leave everything up to my wife then I am not doing my job, even if it is done well.

And that is that.

Gifts

I recently took up drawing again. When I was younger I loved to draw. I loved my art classes, but we just never had enough....drive? Yeah, I'm one of those gifted people. So I get the basics of just about anything I study fairly quickly. I say gifted, but I might as well say challenged.
Yeah, drawing is fun. I recently drew a self portrait. I celebrated because it looked like a person, and it almost looked like me. I drew it when I was sitting under the stage during a presentation of the play, "The importance of being Earnest." Now there is a discussion just waiting to happen.
Theatre, like art, seems to draw me. But there is always the question. How do I earn a living? Well by hard work of course. How many of you have seen the movie...never mind, I forgot the title.
Starving artists. Hmmmm. Would you rather be rich and happy, or starving and happy? Most people would have written Rich and miserable, or starving and happy, but I just don't think that there's a real choice there. I would much rather be rich and happy, or starving and happy. Actually, I don't want to be starving, but if the happy is there I could bear it. Same with the rich thing. I just don't think I could hande being rich and miserable. I would much rather be rich and happy.
Have you ever read the book Les Miserables? I haven't, but that word miserable is in the title, so maybe I will. I hear it is a good one.
Speaking of books, I am listening to Isaac Asimov's Foundation on tape. It is pretty good so far. But it begs the question, "Is listening to books on tape really reading?" I am here once and for all to answer that with a firm maybe. I think that we should all read books. I just re-discovered that I like reading. I had forgotten. Did you know that you can be just as happy doing a job that you hate as when you are reading a book that you love? It's true. I won't go into just how it is done, but it has to do with breathing and living and that sort of thing. But back to Foundation. It is a good book so far.
The main character is a man named...I forgot, but he is a mathematician. In fact, the whole premise is that mathemeticians and statisticians are able to predict the future. And I guess that it is possible. They calculate what is possible and then act on it. I admit, I am oversimplifying, but the other things just seem extraneous.
Now that's a fun word. I can also use it another way. If you are my little sister and you want to squirt your sqirt gun at me you can safely do so from the house because I can't shoot you. My extraneous source of water would get all over the interior of the house and then you could yell, "Don't get water in the house!"
In fact, if you are my younger sister you have already done this. Thanks for providing the example Sis.

Concinnity \Kuhn-SIN-uh-tee\

For all you who wonder what the title of this blog means, it seems to be the opposite of what my blog is all about. This blog page lacks concinnity. That is, it lacks internal harmony. I guess that's not quite true. So far my postings (all two) have been completely random. In that sense, there is definitely concinnity in my work. However, I don't plan on it being ever thus. Sometimes I may actually write something depressing, or even something topical or useful.
You may wonder at the title, and especially the pronunciation guide next to it. Well, let me esplain. I am a current subscriber to the Dictionary.com word of the day mailing list. I get numerous words mailed directly to me; definitions and all. It is really a great way to increase vocabulary. I currently have a total of fifty six words in my gmail account. I can keep them all because gmail offers a large amount of storage space, and any of you who wish to utilize the wonders of said email service, let me know and I will happily invite you.
Now where was I? Oh, yes. Concinnity. I currently have a big number of words with definitions sitting in my email account. Sans usefulness. Most of you know that when we go to school we generally retain about twenty percent of what is taught. Unless of course you love the subject, and then you will take lots of classes and your twenty percent will be bigger than my current twenty percent of all the math classes that I have taken. This leads me to question the ultimate purpose of our public education system.
If we are bound to forget eighty percent of what we are taught, why do we force students to struggle for so long with information that they will never remember? Schools tend to lean toward shaping children into citizens that can function within our narrow view of society. Fit us in the cubicle and we won't know that there is anything beyond it. It seems to me that schools should focus on teaching children how to learn, thus increasing the retention rate, and then helping expose students to a wide array of knowledge that they can pick through and assimilate into their desired focus. Admittedly younger students won't know right off what their focus is, and it is our duty to help them find it. But the process of learning anything, when we understand the true purpose of learning, expands our mind and allows us to apply ourselves and our unique schema to whatever task we put ourselves to.
I will most likely never create a new form of protien that helps us to strengthen our natural immune system. But I don't feel like my time studying biology is a waste. However I must admit that I have retained little of the acutal knowledge, and only remember the theories that excited my interest heavily.
Ah, where was I? Oh, yes. I subscribe to the word of the day email list from dictionary.com. But without using the words that I find there, I will lose them from my memory. Probably faster than the rate of students in our public schools.
Now, I don't mean to use these words helter skelter.

Me- "Concinnity. Concinnity is the word that you want me to use in a sentence. Concinnity."
Judge- "Very good. That is the best use of this particular word that I could think of."

No. That would leave me feeling completely out of harmony with the intent of reading these words. Concinnityless if you will. Of course that leads me to making up words which only our dear friend Billiam Shakespeare could accomplish with impunity.
On that note, and with that literary faux pas, I leave you today. Adieu.

LOAD"blog",7,8

This is my first blog. In it, I pay homage to the commodore 64 that I first typed on. Actually, I never really typed on it. Most of the time I watched my older siblings play games. And usually, I was looking through a crack in the door, or from somewhere they couldn't see.
Yeah, I hid. And I learned how to start a program. And then when they were bored I actually got to touch the computer. Amazed by the incredible graphics, I was immediately trapped by the wide world of computer gaming. I didn't realize that computers were for storing data or for writing. I only thought about the cool, and in depth games that my brothers seemed to get from everywhere. And I never wrote more than the required number of words in an assignment. Writing was boring.
Now I don't play games, I write. Wait, let me rephrase that. Now I play less games, and write more. In fact, I hope someday to become a published writer. And when that day comes around, no one will know that this blog is connected in any way to me, or to my writing. In all reality, I don't think that anyone reading this blog will care enough to even think about it....come to think of it, maybe no one is reading this blog.
No matter. I write for the love of writing....But when I do become a published writer I will publish a reference to my blog in one of my obscure novels and all my fans will rush to their computer screens, or lap-pads, or whatever they happen to use in that far future day.
Band width won't matter, because no matter how big I get, no one ever gets that big by writing...unless your name is Joanne Rowling. Then you will have billions of dollars, seven books, and seven movies, and so you could buy all the bandwidth your heart desires. And really you won't have to worry about it because all the information that you want to get to the public has already been leaked out and the million fansites distribute the information for you. (Not to knock on J.K. she has a pretty good website herself.)
But, I am not J.K. Rowling. My name isn't even Joanne. First of all, that is a girl's name. And even if it were a boys name I wouldn't go by J.K. That's just something they did in the U.S. so that people would read the book and think it was from someone like C.S. Lewis, or J.R.R. Tolkein, or P,D, Evenston....ok, I made the last one up. Imagine the look on all of our faces when we found out that J.K. Rowling was really a girl. Really we live in a sexist society.
In closing I would like to say,"I like to eat Zuppe Toscana. The Olive Garden makes it, and makes it well, but I will always be partial to my wife's cooking, and that is all I have to say about that." But instead of saying something so trite I will merely say. Hope you enjoyed. See you next time.