Bad at titles

Send and Recieve

2011-10-01T20:56:00.000-07:00

A writer's plight is common among human kind; the frustration of true communication. Whereas most people will speak and accept reply, the writer, or in truth all artists, will create an entire discussion and wait with bated breath for a response. But when the reader completes their half of the discussion they often have no method of response. The conversation is dead, and the symbol of the writer's idea has no life until one day two readers meet. But then the writer still has no more part in it.

Truth be told, many writers may prefer to avoid this discussion. After all, what kind of replies do they get? Just like any conversation it is important to find the right kind of partner.

But when a writer creates and their discussion finds place in the fertile mind of the right reader every once in a great while the reader and the writer may connect. And then, when the discussion continues, the experience is a kind of nirvana. It is then the ultimate irony that a writer struggles in solitude when their only goal is communication.

Breaking for a short break from breaks

2010-11-08T16:18:00.000-08:00

I have a few moments. I have been taking a break, but it's just too much. I need something to take my mind off of it. I mean, searching for mental distractions can be so difficult sometimes.

But I guess that's the way of it. Leisure can't be easy. Nothing in life is. Sitting around on my bony behind is just too much work. If only I could lay down and sit down at the same time...wait, I think I'm on to something. But would I call it saying down or litting up? I don't know. I DON'T KNOW!

Oh man, this is just too hard. I need a break. Maybe I'll write a novel or something.

Of course he did something wrong...That's why it's called forgiveness

2010-10-15T17:04:00.000-07:00

I feel fairly confident that the title of this blog says it all, but just in case I want to talk some more...I will.

It is somewhat interesting how much we want others to hurt.
"Why did you hit your brother?"
"Because he said I was a poop face."
"Did you forgive him?"
"Yes, and then I hit him."
"Why did you hit him after your forgave him?"
"Because I still felt like he needed punishment."
"Why?"
"Because he did something wrong."
"Of course he did something wrong...That's why it's called forgiveness."

This completely fictional interaction would really never take place, at least not between myself and my children. For one thing, they aren't that introspective. For another, I'm not that patient. And I know, I'm talking about three or four sentences. You might be saying to yourself, "That's not really a lot of patience."

Well, now you know.

Cheers!

Great Goats!

2010-10-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

I mean, they eat nearly anything. They give us milk (and I'm pretty sure that cheese comes from that). There are goats that climb mountains, and some goats with legs of different lengths. And in the end, I mean their end, not ours, some goats even give us meat.

I mean sure, goats can be stubborn and mean headed. They can be fussy and annoying. They can even undermine our efforts to help them. But those are all human qualities, and I like humans.

Ipso factorium

2010-06-06T12:35:00.000-07:00

The best things in life are free, but are often facilitated by money. This is really a new concept for me. I didn't really start to think about money until I graduated from the university. I had some idea that I would be making money at my job, and I was certainly aware that things cost money. But I have been in easy situations throughout all of my life. I have had enough. I don't often crave the more expensive things that life sometimes calls for, and I am easily satiated. But when it came down to not having enough, I was at a loss and it has nearly broken me.

I did not have enough to pay my bills. I did not have enough to feed my family. I did not have enough to repay my debts.

Each one of these continually added on the other broke parts of my spirit that I may not be able to piece back together(I have no idea how some people face this their entire lives). I did not immediately get the job I expected. In fact, I did not get it at all. I somehow managed to make a little bit under enough and so my debt increased slowly. But I am now working in a job that I would rather not do to get what I need. Though the job is honest and at times enjoyable, I did not plan on it. Selling a service to each person that I meet on every doorstep that I can cross begins to drain my physical and emotional reserves as well. But life is not meant to be easy, and it certainly is not always meant to be fun. However, there is so much of both ease and enjoyment around that they can become distracting goals.

My goals were never so distracted as I find them now. As I say that, I must honestly confess that I am beginning to realize just how much I distracted myself from them. Instead of focusing on my family, my writing, my spirit, and other things that bring true joy, I would focus on how to get ease and pleasure. There is nothing wrong with ease and pleasure unless it comes at the expense of true joy. I find now that true joy takes true dedication and work. I cannot happily work just so that I can play a video game, or just so I can rest for days at a time. I find my work much more enjoyable when I am busy writing during my down time. When I remember my wife in everything I do. And when I remember to build myself spiritually.

I am grateful for this job that I have. Firstly because I am earning money to support my family. And secondly because I am learning about myself. Being nice is not always being good. Ease is not the same as peace. And I am not the same as I was.

Rix Nap Ropper Dir

2010-06-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

In the language of my fathers I will greet you.

Hello.

The amount of patience it takes to move forward had often baffled me. But I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise because procrastination is not the only attribute that I aspire to perfect. That being the case, I have moved forward of my own volition at times. Like the time I was at the grocery store, and I moved forward. Though you might attribute that to the empty space in front of me, the angry customers behind me, and the cashier impatiently waiting for my purchase. You might, but I won't.

If things tend to work out for you, I would suggest that you go with it. There is a lot to be said about things like that.

But I guess if there is a point appointed to this pitifully poor collection of quaintly preposterous paragraphs, it purports to be this. And I quote. "Hello." I'm watching my Ps and Qs roll off the quickly typing tips of my fingers like there was no qqqqqq tomorrow.

In the language of my mothers I will bid you farewell.

Farewell.

Infinite Times Eating Snow Peas Times Two

2010-05-28T07:25:00.000-07:00

If there is anything less enjoyable than running down a jagged rocky hill filled with spiky bushes while it is raining lemon juice and lava at the same time, I don't think that I want to know. It's not that I don't like knowledge, it's just that I don't think it will be much use. Plus, I'm really just afraid.

But on the other hand, I have an interesting bit of information (and by information you of course know that I mean trivia). Did you know that fire ants are extremely protective of their queens. If they feel the colony is in danger, they will move the queen down one of their tunnels to a new location. This is part of the reason that Fire ants are so hard to kill.

Also, a colony can have more than one queen.

And lemon juice never rains from the sky.

Leaves shaking at the breeze

2010-05-12T08:56:00.000-07:00

I live in a fantasy. I am constantly reminded of locations and events that live only in my mind. I have lived in these worlds which have as much reality to me, almost, as the one in which I live and breath. I step between them as if jumping from one room to the next.

One minute I am in a 30's era mystery inspired by Cthulu events, and the next I am in a 20's era noir type adventure making deliveries as a pilot who lives on an island chain hundreds of miles from any mainland. Gunships and airborne cities circle over my head.

I sup with the characters and listen to their stories. I realize that in some way they are all me. I feel their anguish as the make the wrong choices and hurt the ones they would save. I struggle with them as they try to right their own wrongs and the wrongs of the world. I empathize as they hide from the hard choices in front of them.

I have very little imagination. These characters and places are gifts to me. I love that I have met them.

What an amazing thing

2010-05-11T05:24:00.001-07:00

Figures walk in and out of my room. As I stare intently at my screen, I am lost. The world dances and the figures in it make their trails to and fro. Where is my place in all this magic? Right here. The words rolling off my fingertips pour meaning into me as surely as I strive to pour meaning into them. What a strange duplicity.

I recently drove across a bit of country well known for its ability to inspire folklore and legend. This magical land called West Virginia inspired me to such a length that I can almost believe in Rip Vanwinkle.

The clouds laid over my path just far enough up to be called by their true name and not fog. They drizzled water down on my automobile in some mystical shower. The hills or mountains, or walls of trees (I am still not sure if they had an end) surrounded me in so much wonder. To add to all of my enjoyment, high bridges emerged unbidden from the sides of these mountains and disappeared just as quickly into their destination with no signs of roads connecting them to the rest of the world. These lovely structures seemed almost integral to the structure of such a magical place, as if they were mere girders that the mountains had been built on by some long forgotten race.

In short, the Appalachian mountains at the southern edge of West Virginia have captured my imagination.

Beep boop dep dop

2010-04-05T10:34:00.000-07:00

Running around the world today I realized that I wasn't really running around the world. I know, it's a fairly standard thing to run around the world, but I haven't done it. Superman can, but I can't. And not running around the world led me to think about all of the other things I can't do.

Breathing water: This would be handy for sleeping in the bathtub.
Eating granite: I mean, it would make it so much easier to get all the rocks out of my garden...but I think I would have to broaden that to eating rocks.
Finishing my prize winning novel: Okay, I can't really think why this would be useful, but I've heard that it is exhilarating at the very least.

So, you got me, I'm just joking around. But It's such a common complaint among people who want to do something great. I've got it too. But just finishing a project is often all it takes to get to the next step. Sometimes I forget that it takes a lot of hard work and (let's be honest here) mistakes to become better.

So, if I add nothing to your life today, let me not add that it is often better to do something than nothing. Especially when that something paves the way to something great.

Sometimes It pays to wreak havoc

2009-10-08T21:25:00.000-07:00

I went golfing today.

...

Well, I went and walked around on some golf holes with other people. We had golf clubs, I'm fairly positive about that. But not clubs where people who know how to golf become members. The golf clubs that one associates with hitting (like other types of clubs: maces, baseball bats, etc.) things. Oh, I know that most people mentally link golf clubs with hitting golf balls. However, it doesn't have that connection for me yet. The other members of my party managed to make that connection on numerous occasions throughout the night, but I just swung my Neanderthal weapon in the air and proclaimed my masculinity by blaming other things, like the grass, for my failures. I think the other men in my tribe were convinced.

And in the end I managed to support my long standing opinion about golf. It is a social event. Hitting balls with those weapons takes skill, but talking and walking around with other people only takes other people who are also willing to walk around and talk. It's not like basketball where you can get noticeably better in the course of a game. When playing a round of golf you improve very slightly because you only hit the ball 3-4 times for each hole (I was playing scramble or else I would have had to hit the ball quite a bit more). But men like me hate just walking around talking. We need a goal, so we talk while heading to the next spot that someone will hit a ball. After complimenting, commiserating, or smack talking, we get back to the real reason that any of us are out on the golf course. Interacting in a social manner that fits our psyche.

Now we have evolved.

Entropy be damned

2009-09-20T17:06:00.000-07:00

I have noticed of late a drifting of my energies away from that solid individual I have worked so hard to create. Now, though I do love to toot my own horn, I am not tooting my own horn. Maybe just a little. I am, instead, issuing a call to arms.

Let the trombones' fanfare echo in my heart as I lift myself from despair. Begone atrophy of body, mind, and spirit.

Up. Up, I say. Rise to face the day and do something. Because action is life, and inaction is the opposite of action. So, if inaction is the opposite of action and action is life, what does that make inaction.

I know that sometimes we've gotta wait by and see things move on their own (like children learning to ride a bike or something), but that's a choice. And choose is an action word. And that is how I roll.

It's on the bag

2009-09-19T08:38:00.000-07:00

I've picked up a new hobby lately. I enjoy it about as much as I thought I might. Here's the lowdown. I go and visit local potential employers and ask them whether they accept resumes. If they do, I give them one of mine. If they don't, I ask for an application. But the fun doesn't end there. I also ask if the application is available online, but most potential employers tell me that up front.

Case in point: I went out to a job fair the other day and it was nearly a two hour drive. The only employer at the fair talked to me for a moment and said, "You can give us your paper resume, but it would be better to apply online." I have to say, I was under the impression that a job fair is all about meeting people in person, but I'm wrong often enough that I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.

So, if you have any leads on jobs that require writing, teaching, or theatre (I know, it has an E on the end. Blame my schooling.), please let me know. I'd love to further my list of applications because, as a hobby, I like it.

Don't worry though, I know that when I say you, I'm really talking to me. This is like some otherworldly trick to get me to talk to myself some more. Well, I'm not falling for it this time Gribnebop. You'll have to try harder than that.

Love and Friendship

2009-09-10T15:50:00.000-07:00

This morning I happened to be on the BYU campus and a student suggested a topic for my writing. I wasn't looking for a serious subject, I was only looking for two or three words to spawn a line of thought for a writing exercise. Just like in theatre, where improvisation exists as an exercising the skills commonly applied by talented artists, a writer sometimes will write without any forethought and perhaps stumble upon a muse resting beside a clump of birch. Every once in a while we will find this muse and the point of this exercise immediately becomes a mad rush to wake the muse before our onward rushing minds carry us beyond the effective range of our voices and we lose our chance at creating something extraordinary (or at least ordinary).

In writing, as in theatre, we very rarely stumble upon these muses, but we do find that we are inadvertently honing the skills we need to capture and wake our muses when the day finally comes when we do find them sleeping just where they were the last time we missed our chance.

But I'm not here to write about writing. I'm here to generally annoy people...I mean, I'm here to write about my thoughts...I mean, I'm here to write with the barest minimum of thought which may have the effect found at the beginning of this ludicrous and grammatically incorrect sentence. But that will only happen if I'm lucky.

So, BYU students once thought that BYU stored enough food to feed the whole student body in case of an emergency. When I heard that this morning I immediately thought of the LDS church's suggestion that each member store enough food for a year. I wondered where the food was stored. I hadn't seen any granaries nearby.

The student that I was talking to then informed me that BYU had stopped storing this large amount of food and required students to come up with their own storage. But wait, it's not as bad as it sounds. When said student mentioned food storage, she was talking about an emergency supply of food for a week and a 72 hour emergency kit.

Why shouldn't a college student be able to store a week's worth of food. I've been a college student. A one week supply of ramen noodles fits nicely in a cupboard. Any person intelligent enough to get to college ought to at least have the intelligence required to have enough food in case of an emergency. I know that isn't always the case, but I could do it, and I'm not even that smart.

Oh, well. It turns out that BYU doesn't, and never did have food stored for 33,000 students. That's just the food that they have on campus at any given time in the on campus kitchens, vending machines, and food court. So, it looks like this blog is once again pointless.

Thank goodness.

Moderation

2009-08-05T01:38:00.000-07:00

I've created many a post in my time; Seventy, to be exact. But I don't think I'd call myself an expert.

But you should feel free to call me an expert if you want to. Because, in the end, what does it take to be an expert at blogging. If you can log your thoughts on the web then you have create a weB Log of your words. It's like writing dear diary, except in stead of writing to some future grandchild who will open up a dusty book they find in an attic, your audience is immediate. Not that a blog necessarily needs a large or immediate audience, but the possibility of immediate response is clearly present. I wonder how much like "Reality" TV that makes our blogs?

On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoy running rampant through the hearts and minds of my friends, acquaintances, and strangers online. Some blogs even offer genuine insights into political, philosophical, or even religious questions.

Long live the blog, and longer live those who can find the good ones for me and send them to me in my email so that I don't have to look myself.

In other news, Ray Bradbury has recently been poked fun at because he doesn't like the internet. A few people say, "But isn't this the man who wrote Fahrenheit 451? He was almost prognostic in his description of future technology." I say to those people, "Read the book."

The internet allows for many connections, but we should never forget to feed the connections we already have to those who live off the screen and in our homes. Moderation in all things, my friends. Moderation in all things.

Except maybe Ice cream. Not frozen yogurt. The real stuff. Eating Ice Cream every day...that's some good living. Unless you are lactose intolerant, then I guess you can eat something else. But as for me and my house, we will eat Ice Cream. Or sorbet, or even sherbet, or yogurt, or pudding, or even Jell-o (TM). But most of all we eat ice cream. Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have capitalized it the first two times. It's not a proper noun. Sorry. Sometimes I get a little over excited.

Where was I thinking?

2009-05-03T08:21:00.000-07:00

"Daaad." It's the petulant cry that any parent knows. "That's not a story!"

Yeah, he's right. Even my six year old son knows when a group of actions with a bit of dialogue fails to make a story.

I encountered this protest the other night when I was trying to calm my kids down. I often tell them stories that include strange characters and more than likely I will include their ideas. But this time "That's not a story!" fit perfectly.

I find it strangely satisfying that it's so easy to tell bad entertainment from good. Now, I almost wrote that it's easy to tell bad art from good (actually I wrote it and then erased it). But there is a real difference between art and entertainment. Just like friendly Mr. Square and Sir Rectangle, entertainment can be art, and art can be entertaining, but these two words are not synonyms. And more often than not you will find that art that moves your soul or inspires you to greater heights can bore most people to tears. Understanding art takes skill and training. Art is like a secret code to anyone who has read the right book. But some art, and I like to aim for this kind whenever possible, speaks to those who haven't read the right book as well as those who have.

Entertainment on the other hand, and all the art that falls into this category, lends itself to understanding from even six year old children who barely know how to add 6 and 20 (just so you know, that's 26).

So, that's not a story. We all know it, and sometimes we're willing, like the six year old, to hold the supposed story teller accountable. In fact, criticism comes easy. We all know when we come away from something unchanged. Art is an interpretation of life, and the secret behind life is that everyone in your audience has that trait...the being alive trait. So everyone is an expert. That makes my job hard, but it also makes it worth that much more when I recieve a different response like, "That story stinks."

Hey, at least it's a story.

Moderation in All things

2009-04-18T18:49:00.001-07:00

The late spring sun strains against beige window blinds to force warm lazy light through a western facing window. Heat resonates from the blinds as they block the attack. To the north, the window blinds sit half turned to allow the less offensive indirect light. In front of the northern window a short book case struggles to contain books whose titles range from Rights of Man to Lord of the Rings to Winnie-the-Pooh's Baby Book. In the cramped corner between these two windows I find myself typing on seven year old keys atop a fifty to sixty year old sewing desk.

The top of the desk, once used to hold fabric and pins, now barely contains the struggle for space between a great white monitor and a now defunct color ink-jet printer. With desktop space at a premium, I hold the keyboard in my lap. The desk was designed before the advent of personal computers, but seems very forward looking in matters of size. I sit, dreaming of a slim new monitor and laser printer. While dreaming, I imagine a larger bedroom or even a larger house.

Piles upon piles of paperwork find themselves precariously perched atop stools, dressers, and shoes. The struggle for neatness feels futile against the encroaching wood pulp avalanche.

Somewhere inside this already stuffed space I find myself. Within these cramped walls I find scraps of paper filled with notes written from every direction. Inspiration filled shreds stand as wardens against insanity. Symbols of a forthcoming masterpiece, works in progress. All hoping to find ultimate and final fruition on a folding chair less than 7 inches from my bed.

And thus it began

2009-03-06T18:29:00.000-08:00

Billy's knee jerked, and he looked around cautiously. His right kneecap always tickled when someone was about to pass gas. It wasn't a particularly useful prognosticative talent, but it had saved him a bit of olfactory discomfort more than once.

Just as he suspected, Billy's older brother, Reginald, rounded the corner masticating in content. In his hands lay the uneaten half of a chili burrito. The other half hung screaming and clamoring from his mouth.

The longest post ever

2009-02-22T12:23:00.001-08:00

Sometimes salty kisses are the best kind of kisses.

It's here

2009-02-18T10:00:00.000-08:00

I am finally teaching. Okay, I'm really substitute teaching, but it's long term because the regular teacher is on maternity leave.

Up until now, I have been observing a student teacher because state law requires that if the teacher is gone a substitute be in the classroom even if the student teacher does all of the teaching; which was the case for me.

But now. Now I am teaching all on my own.

Wish me luck.

One time at a day

2008-12-28T23:47:00.001-08:00

Eating turkey dinner at my grandmother-in-law's gave me insight into the greater meaning of the universe. Unfortunately the nap that I took right after eating said turkey removed all of that insight. But things could be worse. All in all I think I came out on top because I lost none of my original insight, just the insight I could have gained had I not napped. However, I would have eventually slept and I believe my insight would have vanished just as surely over the night. The only consolation would have been one amazing post in which I shared my insight with the world. Maybe I would have even read my own post later and following the unavoidable insight from that I would have written an insightful yet entertaining novel about some young shepherd who dreamed about a treasure and went on a journey to find it only to return to his home a better person for the journey but treasure-less. But then he would dig a hole under the tree which watched over his original dream and find...da da daaa...the treasure of his dream.

After writing this novel, I would of course realize that Paulo Coelho has already written it (you can find that info here). And I would make my new years resolution not to write a novel that someone else has already written.

In fact, I think that should be my new years resolution.

You heard it here first. I hereby resolve not to write a novel that someone else has already written...or something like that.

This time I mean it

2008-12-26T12:08:00.000-08:00

Well, another successful Christmas has come and gone. Thanks to my extended family my children again know what plenty means. Now I feel confident that they would have been satisfied by a small Christmas with just me, my wife, and themselves, but I also understand that getting lots of presents is important to children. I still like it. But it may be difficult to keep up this level of gift giving when my kids aren't the only grand children on my wife's side.

In other news, there is other news.

My sister in law wrote a lovely poem about her son and how he always keeps his shoes on the wrong feet. She really is talented, and what amazes me more is how fluid the poems seem. It seems as if she thinks in poetry. I guess the best thing I have to compare it to is a musician. Once a harmonica player learns all of the notes and chords so that they become second nature then they are free to express themselves through music. Many people only get to the point where they can express themselves, or play music. A real musician, in my opinion, gains the tools to create and then uses them. In the same way that a musician can express themselves through music once they have the tools, my sister in law has grasped the tools of poetry so well that she can express her every thought through poetry. She is poet. And that's that.

Rats, bats, and other reverse alliterations

2008-12-23T22:54:00.000-08:00

I was doing something that one usually does around the Christmas season and I received the response, "You're a good person." In jest I responded, "I know."

Now, I'm not generally one who toots my own horn, but I will this time. By golly I am a good person and I know it. And why shouldn't I let other people know it too. Here is a bit of my reasoning.

Knowing what you are allows you to pursue the correct actions. If one doesn't know that one is a good person, then one will continually hinder oneself from becoming the best good person one can. Why put up a false screen of modesty (i.e. "oh, no. I'm not a good person. I'm just a person doing what I can.") when one could embrace one's goodness and just go for it. (i.e. "thanks for the compliment. I'm sure trying to be a good person. I'm glad to know it's working.") If one (okay, I'm done referring to a vague one. It really isn't a normal or accepted method of speech in our current language or social climate so I'll just use the more commonly accepted you.) If you continue to say, "Oh, no. I'm not a good person." then you can fall back on it when you make a mistake. But what we fail to take into account is the second part of the label: person.

If you are a person (and if you are not a person I hereby ban you from reading my blog), then you will make mistakes. More likely, you will screw up so terribly that something important to you or someone you care about will end in a poor way. This doesn't make you a bad person, but it does help prove you are a person.

Why not take the plunge and say, "I am a good person." Then you can start doing good things without any remorse (i.e. "I'm not a good person, but I'm doing something nice and good. But it's not too good. I don't want you to mistake me for one of those people. Please don't let anyone else know. Elaine Thomas (I don't really know any Elaine Thomas, so if she reads this then I'm sorry but it's a coincidence) down the street has been trying to pin that on me for months and she's looking for all the evidence she can. I'm sorry, I hope it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable. I'll try to tone it down a bit."). Who knows, maybe if we all accepted the fact that we can be good people we'd start doing it.

But I also don't mean this as an "everybody is good" thing. I mean it more as an "everybody can be good if they want to be" thing. Own up to it. And this holiday season start to accept the responsibilities of being good.

So, if you ever meet me and say, "You are a good person." Well, honestly I will probably respond with a common response like, "Oh, gosh. You're just saying that. I'm not really. I'm just a regular old guy." But on the inside I will be saying, "I know. Isn't it great. Let's be good persons together!"

Merry Christmas Eve

No time for eating peas

2008-12-12T14:57:00.001-08:00

I would just like to review some key points about a literary character from the Charles Dickens novel A Christmas Carol.

1. In the beginning of the book, Mr. Scrooge had become near heartless and charity or love for other people had fallen beyond his ability to grasp or comprehend. In essence, he had cut himself off from the joys of emotion.

2. He was rich, a miser, and didn't want to spend his money on anything that wasn't necessary.

3. Mr. Scrooge also felt no connection to the people around him, and their suffering meant nothing to him. This is partially because of number 1, and partially because he was so invested in himself that he didn't take the time to consider or even find out about others around him.

With these point in mind, I would like to submit the following idea: If you decide not to charge your credit cards to the max this year and you don't buy expensive Christmas presents that does not make you Ebineezer Scrooge.

Saving money was only one aspect of Mr. Scrooge, and I think that though he eventually became free with his money, it was his money. It was not the banks, and I doubt he went into debt to spread his joy. The story was more of a push for those who have to share with those who don't have. Not a push to become financially irresponsible.

There's my "Bah humbug" for the year.

New internationalism

2008-12-11T13:22:00.000-08:00

I was thinking the other day about education. It's a big subject with me. And today in the grocery line I saw the cover of Time magazine. It said something about....

Hold on. In a break from tradition, I just heard about this website. I mean that I actually just heard about it. As I was typing, a friend started talking and I thought, what a good idea. Sure, we as americans generally frown upon having people that we don't know come into our homes, but there is an appeal to it. If you are worried about the 'wrong' kind of people coming to your home, or going to a house that might be dangerous, there are plenty of situations and news clips (and horror movies) to support your fear. We like our stuff, and we are very attached to it. I like my bed. I like my couch. I only want people that I know and trust to come near them. However, there is a great draw in traveling. At least for me. And traveling all over the world, meeting new people, and sleeping on their couches seems like a dream. Not that I would have to sleep on their couches, but if that's part of it then fine.

On the other hand, it may be difficult to do something like this with a family. Unless it is summer time and I can manage to pack one small pack for each person. Who knows.

....So, as I was saying. Time magazine had something about fixing education in America (by which I assume they meant the United States of America because there are two Americas but there hasn't been as much popular discussion about the international education situation in North and South America). And I was going to say something about how we just need to work harder and teachers need to hold kids to higher standards, and how we need to expect more from ourselves, but I think that I'm done for now. School is hard work, and it should be. I think we get more out of it that way.

I'm Back!

2008-12-02T13:52:00.000-08:00

Well, this last small bit of time has been, well, tedious. I have to say that school is difficult and time consuming. However, it should be well worth the effort...as soon as I find a job. Wait a minute. Finding a job would give the false impression that I am actively looking for a job. I am not actively looking. It seems that I am involved in more of a passive process currently. Now, I am all for the earning of money (and even, it seems, for the using of passive voice). I'm even for spending money. Shoot, I would like to believe that some day I will be doing both. But I have made a discovery. Well, not so much of a discovery as a collapsing acquiescence to my conscience and all the other pieces and forces that make up the part of me that is writer.

It's true, I took my sabbatical. I sat around the counting house of sanity. And when I had taken account (or "a count") of all of my good reasons, my thoughts, and my practicality I came to the conclusion that I didn't need them. Oh, yes, I languished in the false hope of being practical. It was painful, as it always is, and I decided (against my good judgement who is incidentally locked up somewhere in my closet underneath my trombone from high school and my family kilt both of which I am more likely to take up again) to take a little chance on myself.

I recently came into some money. And by "came into" I mean cashed in some savings bonds. And by "money" I mean money (Huh, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar after all. Thanks Freud.). Since I am currently unemployed, and since most school districts are not likely to hire a Drama/German teacher in the middle of the school year. Now, I must point out here that most school districts are not likely to hire a Drama/German teacher at the beginning of a school year either, but the odds are better there. Back to what I was or wasn't really talking about. I came into some money. And I don't think I have to tell you what I mean by that again, do I?

So, I'm paying myself by the hour to write. This money, which was mine in the first place, is now to become my paychecks which will turn into rent, food, candy, and toys; perhaps not in that order. And here is my reasoning:

Out there in the world, there are a number of employers ready and willing to depart with a small portion of their money to pay me (at minimum wage) to do something that I hate. Now, I don't hate doing things that I hate, and I think that we should all do something that we don't want to every few days or so (I believe that sentiment comes somewhere from the direction of Samuel Clemens...or maybe Mark Twain), but I've been doing that for money for the greater part of the last decade. I thought that this time I would turn the tables and do something that I love for money and I'll do things that I hate for free. The only difference here is that the money that I'm paying myself is already my own money. I guess that makes me the business owner, manager, boss, and grunt all in one. But the crux of my argument lies in the fact that money continues to motivate people to work even when they would rather do something else. Since I have the time to dedicate, and I have a meager capital investment (albeit from myself) I will pay myself to write. And if I don't write, then I don't have a place to live. In an of itself, that's not such a bad thing. But I would never forgive myself for kicking my wife and children out onto the street. Talk about motivation. Go on...find someone. Talk about motivation. The subject of motivation provides ample substance for conversation. I'll wait....

...
...
...

You didn't, did you? Well, either way, I think that I have found some. And now that I'm done with school (yes, all 8 year for a bachelor's degree). I can spend some of my time writing. Oh, don't kid yourselves. I'm paying myself for writing. I'm paying myself for all writing. I need practice, so I'm paying myself for writing recipes if I have to, but I will write. That means that I am paying myself for writing this blog. That's right. I am getting paid to blog. So I'm back. I can finally justify spending time to do what I love, so I'm doing it. This is the first ever blog of mine that has earned me cold hard cash (Well, in the sense that I could have the cash in my hand if I wanted even though I really keep it all in bank accounts and spend most of it by card, check, or Internet transfer. But It could be cash. If I wanted it to be.).

Maybe that's why this blog is so long...did I mention that I'm paying myself by the hour?

4 wierd things about Derrick

2008-11-20T10:56:00.000-08:00

#1 - I like to write poetry, but I hardly ever like to read it.
#2 - I own 5 pairs of jeans, and they all have holes in them. Only one pair has a hole in the pocket, so that I can at least wear it in public.
#3 - My nose hair sticks out, and sometimes it gets tickled so I sneeze.
#4 - I like to write more than almost anything in the world, but getting me to start a writing project is like pulling teeth.

I tag Kendra...maybe. I'll probably just kiss her instead.

I know, I know.

2008-08-08T11:24:00.000-07:00

Pride comes before the fall...or at least that's what the common adage would have you believe. And incidentally, I believe it.

I just discovered something about our culture (let's call it western) and pervading philosophies versus the eastern culture and philosophies. Western philosophies don't like simplicity. If I were to say, "An apple a day keeps the doctor away." I would be right and wrong. In our western paradigm that sentence doesn't work.

An apple a day? What is the doctor a vegetable vampire and can't stand fruits? Is the apple the cure all fruit? Western philosophy as sprung from our greek tradition demands answers to these questions. We can't accept the simple adage that eating healthy fruits (an apple for example) is a healthy activity and in general if you eat healthy then your overall health will increase and if you are more healthy then you will be less likely to require the aid of a doctor.

But my wife doesn't like apples and she goes the Doctor much, much more than I do...Maybe there is something to this apple thing. Ah, I digress.

In Eastern philosophy analogies, parables, and anecdotes (okay, maybe not anecdotes) are often used to explain complex ideas. And that's okay. An apple a day? Great, fill me up.

It is interesting to note this difference because it also seems to extend to western vs. eastern medicines.

On the one hand, western medicine has moved past the old wives tales to a more detailed understanding. Is this good? It may be. However, it may be beneficial for the average joe to follow the old wives tale if it is founded on scientifically valid principle; even if he doesn't know why it works.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm all for the education of the masses. There's nothing but darkness and the bubonic plague if we go the other way. And I sure think that eating healthy is...well, healthy. But I also think that overcomplication can be just as bad as over simplification.

If I am teaching a child how to do addition, and I start out by saying, "Multiplication is just addition on a different level." I have defeated myself. Everyone doesn't need to be an expert on every subject in order for the world to operate. I don't know how to program a web page (well, I do, but that's beside the point) but I still have this here blog up.

So, is it good to try to learn everything? Yes. Is it necessary to force advanced knowledge on everyone? No.

Let's just everyone progress. And when you want to know how the atom is really made up, then we'll go ask someone who knows. But if eating an apple a day really is healthy then for goodness sakes, don't tell them to stop eating apples.

Just wait, and when they're ready then tell them why eating apples is healthy and maybe let them know they can eat other fruits as well.

This world of ours

2008-07-29T16:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think (and the suggested "sometimes I don't think must be also true") that my lifetime endeavors are fruitless. I write, but sometimes I don't get that big pat on the back that we all look for: recognition. Let's face it, if you write you are writing for someone else to read. Writing is communication, and communication is always (no exceptions at all) an effort to communicate a thought or idea to someone else. Even darned artistic poets like Emily Dickenson who holed themselves up inside their homes wrote for someone. And that's the whole truth of it. We want our thoughts and feelings and ideas to garner some form of recognition. We want our spouse, kid, brother, grandpa, neighbor, or proverbial neighbor to read our writing and say, "Ahh", "that's right", "Ha ha ha", or even "This makes me so mad I want to rip it up." To each writer there is a sought after response. Even if they don't know it.

Now, in our society the most acceptable form of recognition is money. We write and so someone gives us money. It seems like a suitable relationship. However we'll often settle for less.

But in this day and age we have computers so that anyone, like me, can write and be published to the world. It is wonderful. But because we have such unlimited expression, we get the dregs of the human animal along with the pinnacle of expression. That's just what we get for our liberal allowances. The same is true for every other form of expression: advertising, painting, performance art, politics. We've always had the lowest forms of expression in the world, now they just feel like they have a right to foist their opinions on us. But here's the kicker...we don't have to read it, watch it, listen to it, or smell it. That's right, we can ignore it. And until their existance becomes dangerous to my eternal salvation that's what I'll do.

I like to think that I may be in the upper 50% of that little group. But I'm probably not, so you may ignore me too (I won't tell if you don't). But I will continue to enjoy this little glimpse into the anima/animus of our culture.

And now I will type something in German.

Ich habe gedacht daß ich werde ein Autor sein. Aber es ist eine Schwierigkeit daß ich sie für ein Wunsch haben. Weil ich habe keine Bücher geschreiben. Ach, so ist es. Ich tue es eines Tages.

There's a bug in my pocket

2008-07-23T10:34:00.000-07:00

I have an opinion on very few subjects. I try to keep myself open for persuasion and manipulation whenever possible. But there are a few things that I do form my own personal convictions about. And you people of the invisible web that I write this blog for (because we are all really writing blogs because we think that someone will read them and we all secretly hold the desire to become well known because of the style and voice we create through our writing...it's the way for todays everyman/woman to get published only when we're all published, no one is (read "When everyone's special, no one is." from pixar's The Incredibles)) get to hear it.

When we do something wrong habitually we apologize for what we're doing. We apologize again and again. Well, to keep the apologizing to a minimum, only apologize for the things that you actually have no control over.

"I'm sorry that I can't go running with you this morning. My feet were amputated last night and I doubt I'd be able to keep up." That's a valid apology.

"I'm sorry that I can't go swimming with you today, my skin is made of a compound that turns into an acid when I touch water and I would die." Okay, I can respect your decision.

However, "I'm sorry that I was late today for the fiftieth time, I just can't seem to get myself motivated to be here on time." is not a valid apology. It is an attempt to excuse a changeable trait.

So, let's save the excuses for the unchangeable and change the things that we can.

(Editor's note (read "writer's note") the author of this document is fully aware of the hypocrisy evident in these writings and hopes that all of you enjoy it.)

Basic Training

2008-07-21T08:40:00.000-07:00

I think that we've missed the point. Or at least a lot of us have missed the point. Or at the very least, some of missed the point. Or just me, but I feel much more comfortable discussing my shortcomings if I lump some other people in with me, and since we have what, say six billion people on this planet, I'm fairly positive that there is at least one small group of people that fit into the category that I'm describing. So, even though I am lumping myself in with a completely different category of people who don't want to take the blame, I am also lumping myself in with another imaginary albeit plausible group of people who have missed the point. And now you may ask the question, "What is the point?"

The point is this. Training somebody to do something is hard, or it is work, and it is even (very possibly) hard work. This is as true of training children as it is of training adults. People talk about how hard it is for a new military recruit to go through basic training, but they never talk about how hard it is to train. Let me divert myself by using an example that may or may not relate to this previous example but probably relates well to the topic at hand.

Children.

When you potty train a kid it's not easy. For the first part of the program you are constantly reminding the child that they need to go to the bathroom in a furious attempt to get them onto the toilet when they actually do need to use it. (I just found out that the word utilize is only appropriate when you are using something for a purpose other than what it was intended for, for all other cases use the word use.) And when they finally do sit on the pot and a tinkling sound comes from the depths below their bottom we have to pretend to be ultimately more excited than we actually are. High fives and streamers mix with "huzzahs!" and "Big Girl/Boy!" that we don't really mean. We are excited, but we generally don't ever show that amount of enthusiasm for any accomplishment except maybe when a large boulder falls from the sky and crushes our car and we barely manage to pull everyone to safety when lightning strikes the tree next to us and lightning creatures emerge and we all work together on a plan to defeat the lightning creatures and save the world. And even then we are just as likely to cry as to laugh and cheer (unless of course we are in a sit com, then we all have a good laugh to lighten the mood and cut to the credits or commercial (more likely the commercial because the network wants us to be in a good mood to buy whatever it is they're advertising so that the advertiser will continue to buy more time on their network until we all stop watching television and only buy the season dvds for television shows that we actually want to watch and producers start advertising madly a-la "The Truman Show") but we're not in a sitcom). And it is far less likely to encourage our children to go potty in the toilet again if we burst into tears, even tears of joy, every time they make pee pee in the potty. And we do this for weeks, and months even only to have them relapse and pee on themselves all over again two months after we think they're finished.

However, we put ourselves through this ordeal because we don't want to keep changing diapers until they turn eighteen and they're old enough to change their own diapers.

And that's why we train. But it's not easy on either party. The military trainer has to put up a front of being the meanest SOB ever to walk this earth until the new recruits finally measure up and then trainer can shake their hands one time before going off to face a new group of noobs who don't have any idea how to do things the right way. Over and over again we put ourselves through training because we see the end goal as desirable.

But we have to choose what habits we want to cultivate. I have a friend who washes their son's hands with a cloth after every meal. When that son comes over to our house he has no idea how to wash his own hands, but he wants them clean. The parents just decided that it wasn't yet worth the effort to have their son wash his own hands (which makes sense because most kids end up not washing their hands so you have wet mess and dirty fingerprints all over for a week which brings up the point of proper training). But this kid eats his dinner. No matter what mom and dad put in front of him, he eats all of it. My kids wash their own hands, but if you put something green in front of them they act as if a boulder had just crushed their car and etc.

So, training is hard. Pick the right things to train your children in (like reading, respecting other people, telling the truth, etc.) and figure out how to train them correctly and all of our problems are solved.

Really.

All of them.

Every single one.

Even problems with rhyme schemes and internal plot structure and coherence in poetry and movies respectively.

No more problems.

You're welcome.

This was just fun.

2008-02-18T18:42:00.001-08:00

The sorting hat says that I belong in Ravenclaw!

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose intelligence is surest."

Ravenclaw students tend to be clever, witty, intelligent, and knowledgeable.
Notable residents include Cho Chang and Padma Patil (objects of Harry and Ron's affections), and Luna Lovegood (daughter of The Quibbler magazine's editor).

Take the most scientific Harry Potter
Quiz ever created.

Get Sorted Now!

It's Official

2007-12-02T12:35:00.000-08:00

So I'm a scrooge. I had a thought the other day. I thought, "What would I do if my house burnt down with everything in it but my family was safe?" Surprisingly, my feelings were almost euphoric. I realized that I would love it if my house burnt down. Sure, it would be hard finding a new place to sleep especially since it's winter, but We wouldn't have anything except the clothes on our bodies. Imagine that. Nothing but the clothes on your back. I was excited. I thought, what can I get rid of? Well, it turns out that I can't get rid of much, since most of it is my wife's, but I'm going through my stuff and giving a lot away.

I'm not doing anything drastic like burning my house down, or giving away my computer. After all, If I didn't have my computer I couldn't blog (and we all know how terrible that would be). But I'm slimming down a little on possessions. Books that I've had sitting on my bookshelf that I will never read..out the door. Clothes that I never wear...gone. Old paperwork that does me no good...hasta la vista. Really the only things that I couldn't replace would be my stories or scripts, but luckily I have them backed up on Google Documents.

I will however keep a core number of books for when my kids start asking or seriously reading.

So that's it, I'm a scrooge. I don't want anything for Christmas.

Except for.....

December Bee

2007-11-19T08:09:00.000-08:00

I made a realization. Blogging is fun, but I don't really count it as writing. I started blogging mostly so that I could motivate myself to write. But blogging is not a valid replacement. So I will blog less...that is to say, I'll blog about as much as I have in the last six months. But I hope we all enjoy it. And sometimes I'll blog more. That's when I have time. And at other times I will blog neither more, nor less. But I'll blog. That's for sure. Because, even if it's not writing that will really stretch me, it is still writing...and that's always fun.

Tata for now.

Just one of those things

2007-10-30T09:54:00.000-07:00

Generally speaking I don't do stream of conciousness. It's not usually all that fun to read. But it is fun to write when you just want to get something out. I haven't written anything for a while, and since I'm so busy I have a lot that builds up in my head. So, here goes:

First a Haiku though.

If I put my pen
tip down onto the paper
something will come out.

A dog bark. A leaf blows past the window. The wind rushes.

Half cleaned decorations littering corners of the room.

Automobiles taking countless people places they shouldn't be. They don't need to be. Or do they? Is the world a better place for their existence? I'd like to think so. Somehow it would verify and make my existence more meaningful.

Auto parts store just around the corner. Car breaks down, go fix it. Ich bin nicht so mude. Ich bin froh. Aber mein kopf sind sehr full. I guess i just need a little breadk. Thank you, paper and pen, for letting me spill my brains for a moment.

Anything. Pavement and tires. Burning rubber some call it. Someplace in Africa the countries have boundaries. I bet the land really isn't these colors we see on the map.

I'm Done!

2007-09-07T09:09:00.000-07:00

I'm Done! Well, not really done...actually, yes I am done. But not finished. For the last few months I have been rewriting a play that I wrote Jared Hawthorne: Marriage Counselor to the Stars. I was lucky enough to get someone to produce it at a local level, again. It is a fairly simple script, but rewriting sure causes some big headaches. This is a note to all you other writers out there.

Revising is easy. You go through a script or manuscript and make slight changes to dialogue or actions so that it reads better. It's like editing. It's easy, and sometimes fun because it gives you the false sense that you are actually accomplishing something. I will admit that sometimes near the very very very end of the writing process it's necessary and in those circumstances, useful. However, what we dread and forget often comes in the form of re-writing, not revising. Pages upon pages of manuscript head straight for the trash, and we rewrite them. This is necessary, often painful, and always delightful.

I sat at my computer thinking (or more truthfully away from my computer trying anything and everything to keep me from writing) for nearly a month before jumping in on the rewrite. The problem was this: I didn't know what to change. I knew that I needed a change. I understood that my script had problems that needed addressing. But I didn't know what to toss and what to keep. So I started revising. I walked through the script word by word making slight changes until it hit me. Then I scrolled back about twenty pages and hit delete. It was liberating.

I sat there and completely changed two or three major elements and a whole new story grew. Actually, it is the same story, but it's better. So, now I'm done. I turned in the pages for review and it's time to wait. But I'm not finished. We're never finished until someone prints, buys, produces our work (preferably all three). Such is the lot of writers. And it's wonderful

I love my job

2007-08-29T15:53:00.000-07:00

I just got finished watching a show called The Matchmaker. I must say that I enjoyed it. This is the original play that the show Hello Dolly was based on. It's not a musical, though there was a little bit of music. I watched the play as a part of my Acting class (or Being class as my professor wants to call it). I also got a ticket to go and see the USF production of Twelfth Night. And I didn't have to buy a textbook for this course.

I tell you what. Preparing for shows, rehearsal, tech week, etc. Might be a little bit of hell on earth, but I sure love it. I'm studying how to make art. How great is that? (rhetorical question) Of course there's not much money in it, but that's not what art is for.

I am also studying German. I have a great class on phonetics and pronunciation. I tell you what, phonetics and pronunciation in German is a whole heck of a lot easier than it is in English. At least they follow their rules.

So, I'm studying to teach. Share knowledge with others so that they can get beyond me because they have a foot up. And I will be teaching two subjects that increase communication and awareness in the world. And on top of that, I like both subjects and teaching.

I love my job.

Ima Writerer

2007-08-10T14:15:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'm kind of ecstatic right now. I just finished writing my first novel. Well, I guess it's not really a novel, more like a juvenile fiction novel (and the rough draft at that), but it's 19,500 words. I thought about pushing it to 20,000 but I just wasn't up to it yet. I still might, but if I do I don't want it to be just a push for words. It's only a rough draft, so it could go up or down by a couple kilos pretty easy (I'm pretty sure I'll completely cut chapter five because it pulls away from the feeling, point, and plot of the whole thing.).

In other news, My wife read my blog and said, "you sound kind of angsty when you write your blog." She might be right.

On a side note, that's something that I learned in German class. "Das mag wahr sein." It means "that might be true". My german teacher said that this is an invaluable phrase to married people. That's true. Not just the words, because saying something like this without meaning it can lead to all sorts of trouble. But it's true that you should always be open to the fact that your spouse may be correct.

So now I just want to tell you how wonderful it is to be married for five years. Five years and three kids. It's been hard. It's been fights. And most of all, it's been great.

Later

Title Here

2007-07-25T09:49:00.000-07:00

The other day it rained like the dickens here. I don't know exactly what that phrase means, but if the dickens rains a lot, then that's what it did here.

It was pretty amazing. I mean I do live in Utah, which pretty much means that I live in a desert (That may not be true for 100% of the state, but at least 75% and if not that, then at least the part where I live.). So, what happens when it rains like crazy in the desert? Warm rain, and Flash floods. Fortunately no one was hurt because there weren't any real floods, but the water on the sides of the road got going fast enough past my apartment complex to sweep my four year old son off his feet. I tell you what, sometimes I am extra grateful for having quick reflexes.

So I was driving home from work and I thought to myself, "I loved playing in the rain when I was a kid. I bet my wife won't tell the kids to go play outside in the rain, so I guess it's up to me." And it was. The very kidness of my kids was at stake here. I mean playing in the gutter and the rain was pivotal in my childhood experiences (That may explain a few things about me). So I called my wife on our handy dandy notebook (Oh wait, that's Blue's Clues) I mean my handy dandy cell phone and told her to get the kids ready to play outside in the rain. I meant shorts, a t-shirt, and some boots, but she thought double layers, rain boots, and a rain hat. She was probably right.

So, I got home and brought my kids out. Oh, it was great (besides the little kid being swept away in the current thing). After the rain slowed down I let them back in the water and we had a grand old time. I've even got pictures somewhere. Maybe I'll post them someday. My kids have played in the swimming pool, sprinklers, a fountain at a park, but I think that this was the first time they've ever experienced playing in the rain. I enjoyed watching them, and they completely enjoyed getting all of their clothes completely soaked, and then they had a bath after. Talk about a great life.

What's the difference between a red head and a terrorist?

2007-07-18T08:27:00.000-07:00

So, today I had an epiphany. It seems that I've been working too hard at the wrong things. You see, I am in the lower middle upper class. That is to say, I'm in the upper part of the middle of the lower class according to my income. Maybe even the lower middle middle class. And while I am in school, I can't work as much as I need to meet all my and my family's needs. Because of that, I am eligible for grants and other aid from the government. I'm fine with that, because I plan to make enough when I graduate to help pay other people's way through college. But here's the rub.

I thought to myself, "If I write and sell one of my scripts I will get just enough money to not qualify for the help we're getting, but I won't have a steady job (it takes a long while to get a steady job writing, and payment usually comes in lump sums from what I hear.) That means that I won't be able to survive on what I do make so I'd better just not write because I want to stay in my current financial situation until I graduate from college and begin earning money in my steady teaching job."

I know, it's a mouthful. But I really said all that to myself. And I condensed it here.

Isn't it silly. I decided that it was worth it to hold myself back. Now if that isn't a load of bull, then I don't know what is. Trying to make less money. I haven't even submitted a script yet, no less should I be worrying about how much money I don't want to make. If I get booted out of the 'poverty' tax bracket because I earn some money, then I'll just need to write something else so I can earn more money. I mean I understand taking the aid as I need it in school, but holding myself back so that I don't advance because of it...I was looking for the life of ease that we get from being poor. I think that I can do better than that. I can work hard and get my rear out of that spot that it's been so comfortably occupying as of late. Time to be me again and kick that...well...me in the butt.

Oh, Incidentally, you can negotiate with a terrorist.

Taking a page from Mama Heather

2007-07-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

Ok, So I went and took this nerd quiz. Somehow I doubt the statistical validity of the survey, but it was fun. And hey, I discovered that I'm a Drama nerd. Who would have ever thought?

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Drama Nerd You sure do love the spotlight and probably have a very out-going and loud personality. Or not. That's just a stereotype, of course. Participation in the theatre is something to be very proud of. Whether you have a great voice for musicals, or astounding skills for dramas/comedies; keep up the good work. We need more entertainment these days that isn't television and video games (not that these things are bad, necessarily.)
Literature Nerd
Social Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Musician
Artistic Nerd
Anime Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Arts and.... well, Family

2007-07-16T09:11:00.000-07:00

When I was a liberal arts major I studied German and Theatre. Oh, wait, I stil am a liberal arts major. But I also study education so I can teach because...well, I have a family and that seems to be one of the only ways to make money in the liberal arts field. No. Stop. That's not quite true. Plenty of ways to make money exist inthe Liberal arts field. However, most of them require years of no money and trying to get your name known. So I revise my previous statement as follows; Teaching seems to be one of the only ways to make money in the liberal arts directly out of college.

So I have two things to say. And one of them is said. The other one remains to be said. And I don't even know if I'll say it.

I traveled three.5 hours two ways (that's about 7 hours just so you know) to get to a family outing on Saturday. I tell you, it's a good thing that my family is freakin' awesome, or I really would have rued the trip. As it is now, I'm just still trying to recover. Water fights and picnics and my brother's new iPhone. Lots of fun was had by all.

Laters.

Have you ever been afraid of success?

2007-07-13T10:27:00.001-07:00

(This blog was written in February of this year (2/12/2007). At the time It was much too personal for me to post. I realize now that I don't really fear success, but the same old cliched fear of rejection seeps into my soul. I fear that what I have inside me is not what I think it is. I fear that by abandoning those places and stories inside me I have lost them and can never bring them to light. But what are these fears? They are excuses that keep me from writing. Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of loss. These fears, all valid, should not hold us back....anyway, here's the post. Go back and read the title, then the next line down.)

It's an incredible feeling.

Tonight I sat and watched actors who will compete for the Irene Ryan acting award. And they were good. Very good. All of them working, acting, doing what artists do. Creating an emotion, a moment, a feeling that is as real to every member of the audience as if it were happening to them. And as I sat and watched I knew that I am every bit as good as any of them. Then the question came into my mind. Why? Why, if I'm so good, am I not up there driving the audience to an emotional crescendo. Why isn't it me standing there giving a speech about St. Crispin's day? Why aren't I teaching normal happy people what it feels like to hurt, to love, to laugh? And then the answer came to me. I'm scared. For the same reason that this post will probably never see anything but the file folder on my desk. I am scared.

The other day my wife watched me practice for an audition. At the end she said, "I've never seen you that angry before." Why?

Not why hasn't she seen me angry, but why has she never seen me express my emotions like that. Why has she never seen me act? We watch movies and she says, "Where do people come up with ideas like that?" The answer I long to give, the answer that festers deep inside of my heart is simply this; right here. I have worlds inside of me longing to break free. I can express myself through writing. I can write the part of a nation of powerful and interesting people, but I am afraid. What if I succeed?

What will I do if I actually get up there and move someone? What would I do if I wrote something that people loved? They would expect me to do it again. Again! I couldn't live with that. I'm just a quiet guy. But I long for so much more. My wife isn't holding me back. My family isn't holding me back. They don't even know the intensity of creation that boils within my soul. I think, I write, I feel with great power.

But I have written myself a different part. I have written the safe character who cannot take chances. I hide within this character that I have created and I pretend that it's me.

God give me the power to break my mold. Give me the strength to change the world around me. Give me the faith to leap up into that marvelous and inventive river of life that flows through all of creation. God help me to become who I was meant to be.

There's gotta be something I can call this post.

2007-07-11T11:16:00.000-07:00

And for that matter, there's gotta be something I can write here. I know, I'll write about me. That seems to be a suitably narcacistic topic.

First off I have a wonderful brother who has a wonderful wife who just had a wonderful baby. I assume that she's a wonderful baby because she is my niece and that's just what happens to my nieces and nephews they get wonderful (my kids too, but that's a different story for a different day). All kinds of wonderful in fact.

And this brings me to more me. I have a smart kid who suggested that I tell him a story about a spitting watermelon. A spitting watermelon! Imagine that. I did. I wouldn't have if it weren't for my son, but I did. And now I'm writing a story about it. But that's all I can tell you because aside from being egocentric, I am also extremely paranoid about my written works being stolen.

But in sad news about me, my other sister in law had a child who passed away. This probably isn't the best place to bring it up, but, even though my brother and sister-in-law handled the situation well, I had very powerful feelings about the event and I wanted to urge all of you give those that you love a hug because sad things happen to us all.

Enough about me though. Let's talk about you...hello?

I should really get a notebook

2007-07-09T08:42:00.000-07:00

So, I was reading an article in either Time, or Newsweek the other day. That other day being a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday. I'm counting Monday as an 'other' day even though today is Monday because I read this article quite a few months ago (You know, for some reason I almost put an apostrophe before the s in months to make it plural. Almost in this case means that I did it and then erased it. That's not even close to proper punctuation.). I don't even know for sure if the article I read was in a magazine, but it was an article, and those are the two magazines that I tend to read most when I do read magazines so I feel like I'm safe in referencing them for this article because it is an article that would be in one or both of those magazines. I did however find a similar article on two websites. Here, and Here.

So, the article I read told me to be messy. Now, I'm a pretty neat freak. That means that I'm a neat freak, not that I'm pretty or pretty neat. I guess that the phrase is somewhat misleading. I will probably never use it on accident again.

But I will be messy. Actually, I think that what the article touts most is not becoming obsessed with organization. The saying, "A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind." is true according to this article. But it doesn't say to leave the dishes out gathering mold or leave the toys on the floor so that you trip. The message is a little more practical, at least for me.

One of the biggest things I noticed what the suggestion that filing things away in a file cabinet or drawer could be counter productive to the brain's natural modus operendi. Look at it this way, if you have a stack of notes you may come upon the one you need when you're not thinking about it and because your brain was processing the information you finally solve the problem you didn't even know you were looking for (Corwin from Zelazny's Amber series says it this way, "I usually do my best real thinking when I’m thinking about something else.”) but if you file them away you may never see that note again. Think about the genesis of great discoveries, like penicillin.

I think that I tend to agree to a point. When I get home from a particularly inspirational day I usually have a stack of scrap papers, reciepts, torn up cardboard, and other trash in my pocket because that was the closest piece of paper when I felt the muse strike. I like to leave these notes in a pile, but eventually I go through those notes and organize them or at least make a list about them. Maybe that gives my mind enough time to sort through it all, maybe now.

Speaking of being unorganized, how's this blog go for that category.

Breaking up a little piece of cracker makes me feel happy.

2007-07-05T13:05:00.000-07:00

Wow, what to say. (Notice that is a statement, not a question though I did think about making it a question.)

My wife is out of town with the kids, and I thought I'd get to sleep, or play, or something. But no. I have to work...actually, that's the reason that I'm not out of town with my wife and kids right now. They went up to spend the fourth of July with some family and left me behind. (oh, incidentally, Happy birthday U.S.A. although I guess you were technically ratified and born on the 3rd we still celebrate the fourth when it was all signed.) I guess it's all for the best though. I'm not as big a fan of fireworks as I once was. In fact, I was glad to stay inside and work last night. Don't get angry at my boss for me. He didn't ask me to work on the evening of the 4th. I just started a new job today, and I wanted to get things finished early so I didn't have to wake up a 4:30 in the morning. I never like waking up at 4:30 in the morning.

So, I'm all alone. I feel bad that I am enjoying the peace and quiet, but I am. I love my family, but I could probably make quite a successful career as a hermit. I guess that's a little weird, because I even like being around other people most of the time. But I just have wanted a break from it all lately. But if I start writing on any of the three new stories that have come into my head I'll probably get over it. Mostly I only want peace and quiet to study, read, write, or play video games...and the last one is really a lot more fun with other people most of the time.

I don't know about you, but I revel in my 'me' time. When I was growing up I would go sit in the bathroom just to get some time to myself usually with a good book. Now, however I have two children who will do what they need to whether I let them in the bathroom or not. I really prefer to have them use the toilet.

But vegging out isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure I can not wash dishes for three days and still only have one plate, one cup, one fork, one knife, and one spoon to clean. But I tend to loose my cool if I stay up late, and that happens more when I'm alone. So, here's my bachelorhood resolution. Tonight I will go to bed at a reasonable hour (before midnight) and tomorrow I will write down some of the ideas that I've been jotting on every available scrap of paper (I bet you never knew that the inside of a triscut box could hold an entire movie concept with bits of dialogue and all.)

Well, I might write something here again before my wife returns to me. If I do, I will probably be just as cynical and out of sorts as I am now, so come see me for what I really am...tired.

I had a pastrami sandwich for dinner last night, and it wasn't good. What's wrong with the world?

2007-06-25T09:55:00.000-07:00

How to write a full length (book, story, novel, screenplay, etc.)

1. Get an idea and write it down. Once you’ve gotten it and it won’t leave you alone, write down every scrap of inspired information you have about this idea. Write in on anything you can find, and write it as fast as you can. You aren’t writing a story. You aren’t even necessarily writing a list. Just put down everything in your head that meshes with this idea. Keep writing until you run out of steam. Generally that should be enough to help you pick back up when you get the nerve up to write again.

2. Organize your idea. Pick out important points that you see happening in your story. An easy way to do this is to follow a basic formula like Freytag’s Pyramid.

-Exposition

-Inciting Incident

-Rising Action / Complications

-Struggles and Growth

-Moment of darkness / Moment of loss / Moment of Recognition

-Climax

-Falling Action

-Denouement / Resolution

It is not requisite that you use these points to set up, but be aware that by the time you finish your story these points will most likely all be present. It is a story format that closely reflects life, learning, and growth, and so is extremely familiar to the human experience and. So it is sometimes easier to get these points out first since they will most likely be some of the points that you think of first.

3. Write down Key moments or ideas. These are the moments that you see happening in your minds eye. The little girl blowing a dandelion into a wind that carries the seeds into...? The epic battle that rages between two clans who rose from feuding brothers until two families finally destroy themselves with blood. A man who has lived with a woman for twenty years and she just finds out that he...? A poignant scene between two lovers. the funeral on a hillside frozen in time and covered with dust. The rise and fall of a heretical prophet. The rise and fall of a political party. The pain of being a double agent.

These are the moments and ideas that you write for. They may not be the moments that matter when you finish, but they will carry you to the next point.

4. Answer this little question.

Why in the world are you writing this? Why would anyone else be interested in what you want to write?

Here are a couple of possible answers.

a-I’m writing this to make money. The idea is very commercial and it’s been done before so I know people will like it still.

b- I’m writing this because I think that the current (Romantic Comedies, Spy Novels, Horror Flicks, Kids stories, Epic movies, thrillers, etc.) are becoming stagnant, and I think people will appreciate something new.

c. I eat drink and sleep this story, and I think that other people will catch on to my passion and make this a cultural phenomenon.

d. A message trapped for millennia has found out that it can come into this world by means of a writer from our realm. And if I don’t write it, it will force its way through another less good route.

e. (and this is the worst and best of all the answers.) I don’t think anyone will like or even appreciate what I have to say. But I have to say it. I don’t know how to live without telling my story.

5. Write.

6. Write.

7. Write.

8. Get a second opinion.

9. Rewrite.

If it’s not done by now, look at your answer from number 4, then go back and repeat steps 7 - 9.

Discombobulation

2007-06-24T11:02:00.000-07:00

In times past I have noted, with restrained malice, various and sundry persons exiting a theater prior to the full run of the credits listing has achieved ultimate fruition.

Ok, so I guess that it doesn't really bother me all that much, but it is a valid point. When you watch a movie, especially in a movie theater, you have paid a certain amount of money to experience an entire artistic creation of which the credits are most definitely part. Now, I really don't mind that other people leave a movie theater before the credits are done, or even started for that matter. It's the social norm. Credit roll signals the end of a movie, so it's time to leave.

However, I would like to put out a word for staying 'til the end of the credits and why those who leave early miss out. I will explain. When a movie is created the director and editors spend quite a bit of time establishing the theme and mood that they feel best suits the script. A well designed credit roll follows and extends the mood of the rest of the film so that we, the audience, can sit and reflect on the movie that we just saw. It allows for a sort of catharsis and the music draws us to an emotional conclusion that extends and strengthens the mood and message of the film. Granted, some credit rolls fail in this ultimate goal and instead hurry the exodus of the stadium seating. But I would argue that some films evoke the same effect (Just as a notice you should probably be aware of the difference of affect and effect. If you are not, look it up and this article may do you some good.)

In short, if you leave a movie before the credits finish than you have missed out on a part of an artistic creation and squandered your money.

So next time you go to see a film take the time to watch the whole thing and let the added few moments of film credits fulfill their purpose.

Notes:

1. If you have children with you as you watch a movie, it may be impossible to enjoy any part of the movie not to mention the credits. Be aware of the type of movie you are intending to watch. Of course, movies made for children often have music that they will enjoy as well but only if you are fine with dancing in the aisles.

2. Some movies with good Credit rolls: Lord Of the Rings: Return of the king; Disney's Aladdin; AI; Spiderman 1

If you find more successful credit rolls, or have some that really hit home with you, please let me know.

RMA - 3956630475834-3-05779455-3904675

2007-06-02T09:44:00.000-07:00

So, I was a sucker the other day and despite my good judgement I clicked on one of those "fee ipod" or "Free PS3" or "Free waste of money" things. I'm pretty sure that it was one of those things. Now that I think, it may very well have been the last one. It might as well have been for all the good that came of it.

Now I'm not completely naive. I understood that "Free" actually means "Just sign up for a bunch of offers so that we can use the money we get from advertising and suckers who don't understand the system to send the few who actually get through all the paperwork and headache might actually get a free item which is not guaranteed to compensate for the free headaches that are guaranteed." I tell you what. That's a lot of subtext. Whoever wrote that "Free" should be a professional writer maybe making screenplays because saying so much with only one word is a marketable skill.

So, even though I went into the process knowing that I'd perhaps pay $150 in offers I was ok with that because that is still significantly less than I would pay otherwise.

INTERMISSION
I would like to take a break here to complain about wireless keyboards. Especially wireless keyboards with dead or dying batteries. I would stand to reason that I complain about dead or dying batteries, or using someone else's keyboard when they don't replace the batteries. And if I were truly proactive I might skip the complaining process and just replace the batteries myself....But I'm going to complain. I've never had a wired keyboard drop every third lettr or so that I typed so at it ook twice a long to tye my blog becase I had ogo back and correct all the words wdropped letters. But indubitably ths keyboard has, andis as I typedoing ust that. So, mr. highandmitywireless you don't rule the world yet!

Now back to our feature presentation.

Also, I thought that maybe I would actually get something that I wanted out of the deal signing up with these offers. So, I clicked on the link, and started the offers. And every step of the way I found out new restrictions, limitations, and rules that made for more headaches, and less free. In the end, I would have been paying $4-500 for an item by signing up for offers that I didn't want for sure. (Because I signed up for the ones I did want under an alternative email because I didn't want tons of junk mail coming from the "Free Stuff" site. But then I found out that they track by the e-mail and I couldn't change by that time.) But the whole time I worked feverishly under the direction of our happy friend the green eyed monster because I wanted to have for free something that I couldn't afford. And somewhere deep in my middle section (probably my spleen) I just knew that I was getting a great deal and I was cheating the system because I wasn't actually paying for it but it was legal. (actually, somewhere deep down I knew I was falling for a well contrived plan to rip me off at every turn and to make money off of people who don't know better. Did you know that one ounce of face cream costs $69.00 and you don't even have to worry about asking for more when that small amount is gone because they will conveniently ship you more next month. Don't like spending your money for something you don't want? Don't worry they'll conveniently charge your credit card for you so you don't have to lift a finger to waste your money. They'll do it for you. Don't have enough money? That's ok. we've got a great payment plan with the collections agency of our choice. We don't really expect you to pay anyway so we'll just write off the two or three ounces of cream we sent you because it only cost us $5.00 to manufacture it anyway....maybe I'm exaggerating. Maybe I'm not. Actually I'm not exaggerating. I'm completely making up scenarios. It is however based on my knowledge of how companies generally work (from the company and customer side) and situations that friends and colleagues have found themselves in. I am leaning heavily on the side of the customer though because even though everyone does need to make a living, I think that there are less conniving and sneaky ways to make a living than leeching off the unaware. Its kind of like trying to get a PS3 for free. Greedy, and Just not right.

Luckily, I do read the terms an conditions. So even though I signed up for all this stuff, I knew what was going to happen. Unfortunately, they don't list all of the terms and conditions up front. That means new surprises at every turn. And now, even though I cancel all my trial offers and such, and I accept the fact that I'm not getting a PS3, I'm still out all the s & h charges. (It wouldn't be fair to make them pay for my lack of judgement)

So, I guess I learned my lesson. There's no such thing as a Free lunch. Only "Free" lunches. And we remember the subtext there don't we.

I'll just have to wait until I have enough money. That is after all the honest way to do it....or I'll forget my lesson and click on another ad next year. We'll see. But...Until then.

Blog Flush

2007-05-16T22:32:00.000-07:00

Eating shoes and taking names. Junking the Big dog, or Raining on my pinata. Words. Words that fit, and words that fail. Pouring from my pen.

Ink spilling rolling out from the ball point (ball point of my soul I could say) Metal scratching, scribbling, scrawling break me and bear me forth.

I want to tell you a story. Now I realize the weakness inherent in this first line. My wanting something, as a writer, means nothing. Waiting to tell a story means less. If I really wanted to tell the story it would begin and you would know my desire not by my telling, but by your captivation.

There is a picture in my mind's eye. A picture sitting in a constant fluctuating stasis. I spread the paint and the canvas mirrors nothing of my intent. I may sketch or draw a perfect moment, or capture a picture on film. But though I make a masterpiece the piece of my mind still stands alone, untouched, and unreplicated.

The power of words to transfer my mind to yours. A symbol communicated loses power, loses validity, loses life.

For whom then do I write?

Backpack Adventure

2007-05-16T15:38:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally got the Internet at my house. It's been a long time coming. I thought that I could last without it, but this summer I'm taking a course online. This also means that I can write my blog on an irregular basis. Wait, I have been writing on an irregular basis. Well, i guess nothing's changed. And so...

Well, on to bigger and better things.

I guess I could tell you about self depreciating jokes. They're just not as funny as they once were. I write about how few people read my blog, or how fat I am, or whatever, and soon I start sounding depressed and I bring other people down, and nobody wants to be around a chatty Nancy, oh wait, I mean a nosy....wait again...fine, I don't know what to call a party pooper without a party. But I do know that self depreciating jokes just detract from any situation. From now on I'll only tell self aggrandizing jokes. Like when I laugh about how I have a body like Kevin Sorbo (huh, who was that guy? Wasn't he on Hercules, wait, he was Hercules.)

So, instead of just acting like the normal old me, I will put on a facade and change that facade whenever the fancy strikes. Crap, that sounds like a self depreciating joke just waiting to happen. Well, I guess one for the old days wouldn't hurt.

So, I guess I could tell you about self depreciating jokes. But it's really a boring lecture, so I'll spare you.

Later.

One little, two little....

2007-05-14T20:41:00.000-07:00

A recent phenomenon has come to my attention. This world wide web is really world wide. I mean, I've always heard that, but I just figured it was a big hoax.

"Hey have you got the Internet on your computer?"
"Yeah, I picked up one of those AOL cds at wal-mart."
"The whole Internet fits on one cd? Yeah right."
"No, it's true. I put the cd in, and now I've got the whole program. I can even play World of Warcraft. Man artificial intelligence sure has gotten good."

But I guess it's true. The whole Internet couldn't fit on one cd. As odd as it may sound, there actually are many computers around the whole world that hook together in a big electronic database that we call 'the Internet'. That's the only way I can account for the now three replies I have on my blog from people that I don't know. I mean, first there was Kickenchica and I was amazed, but now Victor M and Biby Cletus have joined the vast throng of followers that heretofore I have only imagined. I guess I ought to start thinking about what I write. If anyone could just jump on 'the internet' and read my blog then life could get interesting.

So, from here on out I write only legit, intelligent, coherent posts. Well, maybe not coherent... maybe I'll strike the intelligent too...Aw forget it. I'll just keep writing what I usually do. What's this blog for anyway if not for me to communicate my inane ramblings to my imagined masses of followers? For all you who are listening (or I guess reading) Thank you for letting me pour my mind out onto the screen. It makes me tolerate life a little better.

Really Bad at titles

2007-05-12T07:43:00.000-07:00

Let the resounding of my sigh be heard across the world. School has ended. (And I got a 3.8 for the semester. Woohoo!)

At least for the summer. I'm finished with 19 hour days filled with wonderful rehearsals, terrible final projects, and stress inducing finals. At least 'til next fall. As I look at the joy, sense of accomplishment, and release of stress that finishing school brings I can't help but laugh. I am tickled pink (oh but that's a strange colloquialism) when I think about finishing school. It will never happen. In fact, my son has taken to quoting the old "Stay in school!" campaign. He has given it a unique twist though and says, "Stay in School. Don't Graduate!" If only he knew how sadly true that is. I've been in school as long as my older brother. That wouldn't be so bad, except that he's a doctor, and I'm studying to teach high school.

Fortunately though, I will graduate. If everything goes right, I will graduate next spring. But then I will teach in High school. And I will look forward to summers for a break again. So, I will stay in school.

Summers bring a strange mix of emotions though. I feel elated that I have time to write. Then I feel frustrated because I don't. To be fair, I've only been out of school for a week, but still it's there. One of the most difficult things to get accustomed to is my family. For months at a time they rarely see me, and when I'm home I spend time with them. So now that I'm home all the time it's family time all the time. That's not so bad, but in the last week the only 'Me' time I've had was when I stayed up much later than I should have and then I was groggy and sleepy for the next day. I just don't know how to tell my kids, "Daddy can't play right now, I need a minute for myself." And they just think that when I'm home it's playtime. Those darned little devils. They don't know that when we play I get tired. They don't, so why should daddy?

And to top it off, I'm nervously twitching because I'm sure that I have an assignment sitting somewhere and I've forgotten to do it. I just don't know what to do with free time. Luckily by about the end of August I will understand how to live, write, play with my kids, play with my wife, and enjoy some time to myself. I will be in balance, and I'll know how to do it. Then school will start again.

So, as soon as I get the balance I'll take some time for me to write, or work, or breathe. And then I'll be back on here regular. (Sorry, but during school I had to drop something. I thought long and hard about dropping homework, but in the end I decided the blog was the leas important.) Until then...

Remember!! Save to your (F:) drive or your work will be lost.

2007-04-28T14:29:00.000-07:00

Ok. The semester is almost over. All I have left are finals, and for the most part they'll be a breeze because most of the classes I take have difficult final projects and more simple final tests. That makes me happy.

Do you want to know what else makes me happy? Now THAT is a silly question, since I am going to give the answer anyway. This just lets me take my time about it. Well the thing that makes me happy is kids. Not just any kids, (though I do enjoy kids in general) but MY kids. That's right MY with the capitals and all. And do you want to know something else that's great. My wife and I just had another one. Ok, Ok. My wife just had another kid. But I helped a little. And now I get to enjoy her. Her being my new daughter (I quite enjoy my wife as well). She's five days old and already she's sleeping five hours at night. Now, I assume that she will quit being so kind as soon as my disbelief fades and I start to become comfortable sleeping all night. But I will enjoy it while I can.

Also, this little girl is amazing. She smiles at me. In fact, she smiled at me before she was fully five minutes out of the womb. It's true. She smiled at me. She still does. I know that baby's don't smile until they've been around a few months, but it happened. Of course, I immediately smiled back. What else could I do. I mean, she's just so darn cute.

But it is a new experience having a daughter. I have two sons who love their little sister immensely, but I can only guess what will happen when they notice that their beautiful little sister has different parts. It will be a great time for answering questions...hmm, I wonder if I should tell them before hand so as to prepare them. I'm all for being straightforward with kids about their bodies, but since we have two boys the subject of girl parts has yet to come up. I mean the oldest is only four years old. Ah well, I guess that we'll end up talking about it eventually.

Speaking of eventually, I have one of those projects I made for my Educational Technology class online. Actually, I don't have the whole project, but I do have a preview. Feel free to take a gander here.

If you do watch it, let me know what you think. Would you watch the video. Incidentally, if you are a member of Mass Pike I used your music in accordance with the fair use rules for education, and please let me know if you want to work something out.

So, that's all for now. I haven't written for a long time, so I just wanted to say 'hi'. I hope you know I still love you all....and again by all, I mean everyone who is reading this post... and by that I mean me.

Love you all. Tata-

IDEA Improvement Act

2007-04-17T11:15:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt like a fraud? Sometimes I do. I go to family functions, and I go to parties and people ask me, "What do you do?" I inevitably get around to saying, "I'm a writer."

That's pretty painful for me to say, because I'm not writing. Oh, I write little stories here or there, but what have I really done? However, Saying that I am a writer becomes especially poignant for me when I actually write something. Because when I write the possibilities just jump out at me. I sit down and type out a few words and I can see the end of the story. I can feel the characters begging me to write more. They just want someone to hear them, they just want their story to be told.

And I sit at my computer and I write. I come alive with hope. My mind surges with possibilities. Life seems worthwhile when I'm writing.

And then I stop. I get so involved with school and looking for money so that I can eat that I forget. I forget what it means to write. To truly be alive.

And when I go home to my family I become lethargic and grumpy. I try to share my feelings, but my mouth doesn't work. My fingers know how to talk, but my voice shrinks at the task.

But I show my love to them as much as I can. And then I finally get a chance to write and instead of sleeping, playing a video game, or anything else that I can possible do to avoide it I actually write. And I come alive again. And my family seems more wonderful, and my life feels happier, and even when I struggle to tell a story my finger feel content with the role that we have been called to play in this great story.

I love my family. I take joy in my friends. I bask in the lovely glow of life. I praise the opportunities that my life affords. But when all is said and done: I write!

Hunt and Peck

2007-04-10T10:55:00.000-07:00

I have a dirty little secret. A confession, if you will. And my confession is this: I didn't even tell my kids about the Easter bunny this year. They don't even know that he exists. No eggs, no hunts, no chocolate. Nothing. My wife did decorate the house, but she always does that so the kids didn't suspect a thing.

I did feel a little bad, so we brought out the movie "Superman Returns" which we bought in a package deal with a "Justice League" cartoon. And I took a few minutes to illuminate the Christ parable in the character of Superman. Which becomes especially poignant in "Superman Returns" what with his death and return, and people calling to him for help every night. He even says that people need a savior. Now you may not think of it that way, and Bryan Singer may not have thought of it that way, but Superman is a "Christ" figure, or a "God" figure if you will. Any story in the traditional sense that we tell revolves around the basic points that mythological stories that have popped up in any given culture. Especially when we make a character superhuman. And I happen to believe that the myth of Christ is a true myth.

You may thing that's an oxymoron, but I assure you it's not. If you don't believe me, look here. Myths don't have a "determinable basis of fact or a natural explanation", but that doesn't mean that a myth can't be true. I guess that for me, then, it would be history.

Speaking of myths, I couldn't really get myself to further the one about the Easter bunny. What is it with eggs and bunnies anyway. I guess they symbolize fertility and it's an especially topical symbol what with spring and all. But so what, bunnies have sex and make more bunnies. They don't lay eggs. Those come from chickens or other fowl. I want my kids to grow up and have families and produce offspring, but I don't need to start them on that kick yet do I? And by the way, if this is a Christian holiday, what does the Easter bunny making more little bunnies have to do with Christ's Resurrection? I think that if we are going to create something to celebrate Superman is much nearer to the reason for the holiday.

Now maybe next year I'll tell the kids that Superman hid the eggs.

Every where you go.

2007-03-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

Well, I just closed another chapter in my life. It was a small chapter, actually a sub chapter really. Maybe even a footnote. But an interesting one none the less. And I must warn you. I think that I may be about to wax poetical or something like that. Not to be confused with political. Heavens no. Sorry, folks. I just don't know enough about politics to write political poems. But sometimes I do feel something, and so I do write poems. But I won't. Don't worry. I have not been afflicted with the J.R.R. Tolkein need to stick random (some would say bad) poems in my writing...yet.

The cat had lunch upon the fence.
a feline meal of meat and fish.
Its metal goblet filled with dairy.
To dine a feast with no companions hairy.

Ok, ok. So I threw in a completely random poem. But I promise that I will get to the point o this blog.

I finished up the play and now I have time to write, or do something else. But being a college student in a play can be a lonely thing. Especially when you have a family. All the cast members had numberless concourses of roommates, and friends from the area who came to visit and then after the show they all went out and talked about the show or whatever else they wanted. That's a level of interaction that a married individual misses out on. No matter what I do, I will never be a part of the cast as they are.

But on the other hand. They don't get to go home to a wonderful family. So, I guess I come out on top after all.

Eat this Mr. Fettuccini!

2007-03-14T09:48:00.000-07:00

Well, I have made a most disturbing discovery. As of late, my blog titles have been more than appropriate for my blogs. I have actually been tying them in so that they make sense. In fact some of them have almost been good title. Well, no more of that. I can't have a blog called "Bad at titles" (which may be the best title I have ever made up) if I start using good titles. So, it's over!

Now on to something completely different.

I saw a book recently on relationships. The title was (actually I guess it still is) "Strangling your husband is not an option." or something close to that. And you know what? I can't begin to verbalize how this frustrates me. So I'll write it down. (actually, I should have used the word vocalize because I guess I am verbalizing it.)

Anyway. I guess what ticks me the wrong way most is this. That's a terrible title (although it is true. Not only is strangling illegal, it would not at all be conducive to a continuing relationship for what I hope are obvious reasons.) Because it reflects the current popular view of husbands, fathers, and men in general.

The popular culture's view of men is as follows: (that's air force talk) Men are either stupid, insensitive, lazy, layabout, and more of a burden than a boon in a relationship, or they are Stupid, insensitive, work-aholics who don't contribute emotionally to a functional healthy relationship. The mother/wife figure does everything, and men can go sink themselves on the good ship Lollypop if they want because no one would really know or care if they were gone. Men are a trial not a functioning or necessary part of society.

There is no middle ground. Look around you. Are men really like that? Do we drag you women down to hell and back with no logical reason? Are we a necessary evil? Because if that's the case then I say Screw all the effort that I put into trying to be a good husband, father, employee, and contributing member of society. It looks a lot easier to avoid responsibilities and family pressure.

Well, now that that's out there, I hope someone will respond.

And I also need to say this. I guess women have had the rough spot in popular culture for a while, so maybe it's mens' turn.

Here's to all the real men who are actually trying to make a difference in the world and their families.

And Here's to my oldest brother who is one of those men. He leads the way for the good guys. Happy birthday Bro!

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie...

2007-02-28T10:33:00.000-08:00

That's Amore! Yeah! I tell you what. Yeah! But man, what about when there's a Lunar eclipse? Is that Amore still there? Does it just disappear? Are you suddenly loveless, or is there uh more eh?

Oh, man. I can't believe I just came up with that. And all because I was thinking about my relationship with theatre. I mean, I love it. The moon hit my eye, and I fell in love with theatre and movies and scriptwriting (actually any writing), and I'm in love. But every once in a while there seems to be a lunar eclips in the theatre area of my life. It usually happens in the middle of a rehearsal process. I'm in a play right now and we've been rehearsing for three weeks, and we've got three more 'til the show opens. And I have no time to do anything else (like writing). And spending time with my family gets more and more difficult.

But It happens every time. I guess that's what lets me know that this is a real job. Like any other job, it's hard work. But I love it, and when the play is over I will miss all of the time that I had spent with my new friends, and I'll miss the endless rehearsals...well maybe not them, but I'll miss it all so much that I'll try out for another play. I guess it's like having a kid. There's gotta be some reason to do it all again.

But I think I'll wait a while to act in another play. I've been putting off my family, and too many writing projects, and maybe a video game too.

Well, it's done.

2007-02-22T10:44:00.000-08:00

I auditioned. Well, it was actually a screening audition, but the process was similar. If I don't hear back from them by march 7 then I didn't make it. Simple, but sweet.

I ended up having to cut down my second monologue in order to fit within three minutes, but I think it worked. I felt good about the audition, but I know that my competition is tough. I've seen them perform. But I take consolation in the fact that last night I had a dream....again.

In this dream I got a call from the guy holding the auditions. He said I made it and congratulated me on a job well done. It was very disconcerting to wake up and realize that it was, in fact, a dream.

But now I know the feeling of success...even if only in my dreams.

When in doubt...

2007-02-17T15:56:00.000-08:00

I guess you are all wondering why I asked you here today. Well, I have two important items of business. And immediately following all of the extraneous text that I am currently spewing forth onto the computer screen I will tell you what those two very important items of business are.

First, as you may have noticed. I got a picture up there in the right hand corner of this page. Well, it's actually not quite in the corner. If this were a stage it would be up-left stage, but not quite all the way up or left. So, you see it? Good. Now, I am well pleased with this photographic record of my incredibly good looks for all generations to know. It is reminiscent of my older brothers, my father, and...well...myself. This beauty of a picture was taken at the same time as this picture and I must say that I can now, without hesitation (but with much ado), recommend this person as a photographer.

The reason that I got the pictures in the first place was to create a professional looking photo for my photo resume that I need to take part in the audition which I mentioned in my previous blog.

Now, on to the second extremely important item of business. I just saw a production of Shakespeare's play The Tempest. It was presented by the Utah Valley State College theatre program. They did an excellent job. I have to say, when I first saw the tempest I thought it was trite, silly, and that the two love interests fell in love way too quickly for my belief (The fact that they thought they were the only two available people on their little island seemed far too great a reason in their desire for union.) . But this time, even though the love story was still unbelievably quick, I loved it. The staging and direction was amazing. But the performance style was the most interesting of all.

Four actors, the readers, stood at the corners of the stage and read all of the parts while the actors on stage acted out the parts. For a few voices they had two people speak at once leading to a very otherworldly effect that I didn't think possible in live theatre. It may sound weird, but I assure you that It was amazing and if you ever have a chance to see Shakespeare directed by Christopher Clark I would.

Now, since I seem to have forgotten an items of actual importance, I'll let you go.

Cheers!

Auditions

2007-02-13T11:49:00.000-08:00

I am pretty much scared witless. I just got an e-mail that there are auditions for the Utah Shakespearian Festival. Well, actually they're auditions for auditions. But I'm gonna do it. I need a resume, and a head shot by this Friday. That's the easy part. The hard part is this. I don't have any Shakespeare monologues memorized. Ha ha. It's funny, because I didn't even know about this and I had the actors nightmare about it. Really.

You've heard about the actor's nightmare. You're on stage and you don't know any of your lines. Well, that's what happened. I was on stage for a Shakespeare thing in my dream and I did well, but then I realized that I had two more monologues to memorize but I didn't have any idea what to say. Really, I had this dream. And then, the next day I found out about these auditions.

Well, I wasn't planning on auditioning, but since I already had the terror that is the actor's nightmare for it I might as well finish the rest of it. Now I need to go practice saying, "To be or not to be..." without looking like a fool. Oh, yeah, and if you have any ideas for monologues, please let me know.

New posts are fun.

2007-02-08T10:29:00.000-08:00

The title to this post, as you english majors may note, is a full and complete sentence. I can even break it down.

Noun = Posts
Adjective = New
Verb = are

And what is fun? Fun is a direct object. That's right, Fun. I don't care what you say, it is. Or maybe it's a subject compliment. In that case are would be a linking verb and ....Oh man. Now I remeber why I never liked English in school. For that matter, I didn't like German either and for the same reason. Man, that grammar stuff is killer.

By the by, I was wondering the other day. No, really I was.

So about grammar, I just realized last night that I don't really know what an adjective is. In my writing group we tried to describe people without using adjectives. (Speaking of my writing group, I just made a website that puts up a little bit of my work. I can't let you see theirs though, because they don't want it up for everyone to see so you need a password.) I couldn't believe how difficult it was to write a description sans adjective.

For example, if you say, "His hair burst from his head full of fire." Well, I guess that works, but ,"The monitor glowed ominously." Dang, that's fine too. I mean it has an adverb, but no adjectives. How about, "The blood red blood pumped through her veins like a bloody mass of nutrients and oxygen carrying oxygen and nutrients to the various parts of her body that needed nutrients and oxygen." Now that's just silly and redundant. Not to mention reduntant too.

So, that's all for today. I hope you learned a little something (Little is an adjective) from my grammar lesson. As for me, I've got to go look up some more grammar sites so that I don't tell anyone else something unintelligent...like you or like that one guy who...I guess I should stop now.

Well Duh...

2007-02-01T20:42:00.000-08:00

You know, one thing that really turns people off reading your blog? Really long posts. Yeah, long posts like my last one. It was really long. And there weren't even any pictures. Heck, I didn't even read it. But I left it up there because I wanted those people who I tagged to be able to see why they were tagged because I made this link instead of this one. Can you imagine the frustration slash confusion (yeah, i just wrote out the word slash) of the poor soul who came to my site and didn't see anything about tagging? Well, to all of them, I am sorry but I can't leave that old LONG blog up anymore. I just have too much to do to leave my blog in such a bad state.

And that may sound contradictory...well it is.

Let's talk about me

2007-01-19T11:09:00.000-08:00

Have you ever heard that country song? Strange thing about it, My wife introduced it to me (though I can't remember if it was when she was my wife, girlfriend, fiancee, "just friend", or fiancee the second time). When she did, it was quite enthusiastic. She would even randomly start singing it to me every once in a while. So, you know (this is quite an inapropriate colloquialism since you obviously don't know and I am not referring to anything) , I just kind of assumed that she liked it. I am not a particularly huge fan of country music, but I'll listen and sometimes I like it. But whenever I heard that song I would turn it up and let it play especially if my wife was around.

Here's the funny part. After four years of marriage we were driving somewhere and the song came on. I turned up the radio and began to grit my teeth when she promptly reached over and changed the station. "I really don't like that song." She said. "Well", says I (not to her, but right now), "I guess I've just been taught a lesson about assuming things. And about how people change."

Hmph.

Now to the main purpose of this blogh. (I am in a class called the history of languages, so I'm learning about grimm's law and the consonant shift in language history. (e.g. p>pf, t>th, g>gh, etc.) I just thought I'd try it out and see if the language is still shifting. Let me know if it works.)

I was tagged. You can see it in the comments of my last blog. And here are the rules.

"According to the rules... Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You". People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says 'you are tagged' in their comments and tell them to read your blog!"

Well, Since the beginning of my tag playing days, (and I've playded some tag in my days let me tell you) I have never played a game of tag that makes you tag a billion people when you're it. It goes more like this.

Person 1 tagging person 2, "Tag, you're it"
Person 2 tagging person 1 or 3, "Tag, you're it"
And so forth.

As you can very well see, there is no tagging of multiple people. When you tag one person you are no longer "IT" so your ability to tag is revoked. So, strictly speaking this blog represents a continuation of a chain letter more than a game of tag per se. And this brings me to weird thing about me point 1 and 2.

1. I hate chain letters. Really, I do. I usually just erase them before I am tempted to write back derogatory messages about how much I hate letters that say "Please forward this to everyone you know or you will get boils on your nose."

2. I have the hardest time writing wierd. See, I just did it again. I type and wierd comes out of my fingers. It's wierd...weird. Not wierd. I just can't seem to spell it right without a spell check or numerous trips to the dictionary. The first trip just to see how it is spelled, and the rest of them just to make sure I read right.

3. I have a burning desire to create a masterpiece. Now, this may not sound wierd, but here we go. When you go and see a good movie or watch a particularly moving actor on stage you probably feel all warm and good inside. If the feeling is good enough you probably start to tear up a little. Well I do all the same things, but I thing, "I could be doing that...sniff...I want to be a part of making something this good...sniff, sniff." Ditto for books, music, or art of any kind.

4. You can't have my attention and let me be in the same room as a working television set. It doesn't matter what is on, I'm watching. Video games, books, or books on tape are worse. Wo unto those who disturb me in the middle of a book.

5. I have hobbit hairs on my feet. It's true. What makes it worse is that my youngest son likes to stand on my feet and so I yell, "OWW. You're pulling my hobbit hairs!" Unfortunately, he thinks it's great fun. Now I just wear socks all the time.

6. Actually, that's it. There are only five weird things about me. Isn't that strange.

So, as for tagging people. I will make an exception this time. I'll tag three people (this may be because I only know three people who blog, or I might be flaunting the rules like heather. You decide.)

I hereby tag kickenchica, Jonathan, Jamie, Oh, and Scud. I guess I'll throw that last one in for good measure. One of the others might say I missed, or I only got their shirt or some other lame excuse for not being tagged. (Those people always convinced me that I was still it for some reason.)

So now, I am not it. The power bequeathed unto me through taggage (look at that grammer. any consonant surrounded by two short vowels should be doubled so tag becomes taggage isn't that great?) has now left me. I am powerless once again.

Mysite.com

2007-01-10T11:27:00.000-08:00

You know, I don't even know what Mysite.com is. But I saw it on my dashboard page, and I needed a title so here we go...

If Mysite is what it sounds like, then it could be cool. Everybody with their own little website...wait that sounds like the current fad anyway. I'll probably have a website someday, but for now I'm content with my blog. Really, what would I do with a site anyway? I'd blog on it.

But if I did have a site, I think I'd go ahead and post all of my short stories and writing excercises. I am starting to get quite a collection. Nothing more than a few pages, and most of them have no ending, but it'd be fun to get peoples opinions...hey, maybe I'll check out Mysite.

Ha, no! If only you knew why that was so funny. But you don't, because it's kind of an inside joke, you know. Inside jokes are the tools that people use to feel included and make others feel excluded. Actually I don't think that people really use inside jokes to make others feel excluded, it just happens because they tell the joke, and everyone laughs. Everyone except little Timmy. Because he's not part of the group. But someone notices and either says, "You had to be there," or "This is what they're talking about." Either way it's not funny to him. So he feels bad and left out and doesn't come back to play. That's why inside jokes are bad. And that's why I don't hang out with.....never mind.

I guess I had better let you in on it then huh? I'll probably never create a website with a site called Mysite (if that's even what they do.) because my brother has a webhosting business, Blue Sun Hosting, and I can easily create a site through him.

See, it wasn't funny.

And I guess I was a little harsh on inside jokes. They can be a good way of bringing a group together. In fact, any group that forms bonds has "inside" jokes. They're just bad when used to exclude. So I hope that you all feel welcome here at my blog. I would hate to alienate all of you...and by that I mean "all one of you"...and by that I mean me.

Good bye me. I'll talk to you later.

Happy New Year!

2007-01-01T10:02:00.000-08:00

My guess is that quite a few blogs posted today will have the exact same title. It is after all a new year. And that's what we say to each other when the new year rolls around. I feel a little like Gandalf in the hobbit when he says, "What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?" Except I would replace "good" with "happy", and "morning" with "New year"

Actually I don't really feel like that. I have just always liked that quote, and I wanted to astound you with my vast literary knowledge....I think I may have failed.

But what about "Call me Ishmael." Huh? Moby Dick....What? still not impressed? how about something like this "The". There you go. I have just quoted nearly every book ever written. I am fairly confident that I could say every book ever written (as long as they were translated) but there might be some book somewhere that doesn't use that particlar word. Maybe.

On other news, I would like to wish you all a Nappy New Year. I meant to type Happy New Year, but when I saw that I had written Nappy instead of Happy it just looked so nice and comforting. You know, since it's new year's day and all, and I stayed up half of the night playing games like Killer Bunnies, Settlers of Cataan, and boxing on Wii sports. So there you have it.

Nappy New Year!

You know. Becas...e Nap sound good right..........

I'm a writer

2006-12-28T22:43:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-25T06:04:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-19T10:54:00.000-08:00

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...

...

2006-12-14T09:30:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-04T10:33:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-25T21:23:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-11-15T10:06:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-13T16:03:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-07T14:39:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-01T12:23:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-10-28T20:29:00.000-07:00

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?

2006-10-24T14:57:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-19T12:35:00.000-07:00

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?

2006-10-16T10:26:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

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\

2006-10-12T10:41:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-11T12:40:00.000-07:00

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.