The World Doesn't Resolve Around Me

First things first, the message on the top of last week's post was supposed to say "Merry Christmas."  However, I messed things up a little, by not previewing it first.  I am truly sorry for how that didn't work out.  I will resolve to do better in the coming year.  This will pretty much be the only resolution I will make, as I don't really make New Year's resolutions.  Oh, I try to improve my life, but it is more of a year-round thing, and not something I try to force upon myself just because it is January first.  This is not just a random thing, either.  I pick up and discard improvements throughout the year.  I am always trying to eat better, exercise more, and quit bad habits while trying to start new good ones.  I understand the importance of starting new things at the start of a new year, but it just never seems to work out the best for me when I do.  For instance, I used to plan up to an entire month trying new food/recipes.  Sometimes, I would limit myself to just one week, if I couldn't find enough new foods ahead of time.  After a few years of this, I just kind of stopped.  Finding entirely new foods was almost impossible, and even just trying new products and recipes was becoming a challenge.  Now, I just try things when I see them.  Mostly, they are new varieties of things I already buy or get.  This gets tiring, especially when this means that products I do like are discontinued.  I have gone through over a dozen different flavors/brands of cereal and snack bars over the years, only to see the one I don't like still on the shelves while my favorites disappear.  Exercise is just the same.  I have lists of hundreds of different exercises, the majority of them I have never attempted.  I rely on a core (bad pun) group of a few dozen that I rotate through, with a little variation here and there, with the biggest changes coming in weight lifted and for how many times.  For example, this past weekend I did unilateral presses at 120 pounds for twenty total reps over three sets.  I wasn't even planning on so many, but I felt I could go all the way and I did.  My bad habits are trickier.  I try to change them as after as I can, to various levels of success.  After decades, I have all but stopped biting my nails, although I still have trouble with two fingers on my  left hand for some reason.  I even try to improve my good habits.  Typing is apparently not one of them, as I have made multiple mistakes just today.  I have corrected them, but I just seem to be hitting the wrong keys and I cannot blame the keyboard for most of them.  However,  this keyboard does have quite a few keys that are sticking.  Anyway, I will try to improve my life next year; I just won't announce how I will be doing it.

Top of the Charts

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I have always been fascinated by lists, particularly Billboard magazines' Hot 100 chart.  I have been following the Top 10 pretty much every week since I was in grade school.  Over the decades, I have become so familiar with their various charting techniques, that I have frequently been able to determine the top songs of the year.  I havn't always been exact, but I come close very often.  Sometimes, I have been able to guess upsets that many people wouldn't even see coming.  Take this year.  One would think that "Despacito" by Luis Fonsi with Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber would be the number one song of the year.  I mean, it spent sixteen weeks at number one.  However, through my own analysis of the weekly top ten lists, I discovered that "Shape of You" by Ed Sheeran had actually spent more total weeks in the top ten, even though it only spent twelve weeks at number one.  It would be a close call, but Ed wound up getting number one song of the year, just as I had predicted.  In fact, I correctly predicted the top three songs of the year in order, with "That's What I Like" by Bruno Mars coming in third.  Each of these songs had chart performances so dominating, that no other songs really came close.  In fact, any two of these songs spent more weeks in the top ten  then all songs by solo women combined.  I had felt that this was the case, but it took my research to conform it.  Anyway, it was an interesting year in the charts.  I hope you like my Christmas message at the top of the page.  It was going to include a snowman graphic, but I couldn't get things to work out just right.  Still, I think it came out pretty well.

 

Not Too Naughty, Not Quite Nice

I am naturally very inquisitive.  I just have to find things out.  It is one reason I was going to be a journalism major in college, if I had only gone to the right school.  This sneakiness really came to the front at Christmas.  Hardly a year went by without me finding out at least some of my presents before I unwrapped them.  I had all the tricks.  Not only would I shake my presents, I knew how to peek under the flaps without greatly disturbing them.  I would even moisten light-colored portions of the wrapping to make it transparent enough to try and see images underneath.  One year, a great aunt had given me a water game, and I later would get the exact same game from a cousin.  I had to feign enjoyment, since I already knew I was getting another one.  My "best" year was 1980.  That year, I could figure out almost every single gift I had under the tree.  I wasn't that careful in hiding the fact, and my mother hid everything until Christmas, even the one I didn't figure out.  How was I supposed to know she had gotten my a giant teddy bear that she got as a special offer with one of her fragrance purchases?  Our house wasn't that big, so there weren't too many places to hide gifts before they were wrapped.  I would sneak around, frequently finding them and sometimes claiming them early as prizes in a successful hunt.  Not always, but I did sometimes play with them.  For instance, I easily found my Super Nintendo game system.  When I was the only one in the house, I took it from its hiding place, got it out of the box, hooked it up to the television, and played the first few levels of  Super Mario World.  I then put everything back before I could be caught.  My mother suspected something, but she couldn't prove anything.  This secretiveness also helped me when I started to buy gifts for my mother, as well.  Once, in the late '90s, on one of my infrequent forays outside of the house, I was just wandering a store, when I found something my mother had been wanting for some time:  a bonnet style hair dryer.  I managed to get it, and a Michael Bolton tape, and hid it in the trunk of my car and put in it so it wouldn't move around to make noise so my mother wouldn't hear it when I went to pick her up.  I managed to slip it into the house and wrap it without anyone knowing.  My mother took awhile to even notice it under the tree.  She was very surprised when she opened it up.  Unfortunately, she rarely had the time to use it, and it was ultimately thrown out years later.  I had a knack for picking good gifts, but my mother doesn't.  When I was in high school, she once got me a sweater I liked, but I couldn't wear because it was the wrong size.  I had tried it on weeks before and had to get a different one instead.  She thought I had grown enough so it could fit.  I hadn't.  She was so certain, she had thrown away the receipt.  Although I would grow a little more (as well as develop some muscle tone), that sweater never did fit me right.  That is one of the reasons why I don't ask her for gifts any more.  She always thinks I would like or need something, but she turns out to be wrong.  Christmas isn't as much fun when you have to ask for an exact gift, and nothing else will do.

The Rabbits Is Coming

I admit it, I am a rabbit person.  For some strange reason, I just connect to the furry critters.  I don't know why.  I felt the connection long before I even saw a real one.  I just share so much in common with them. I consider myself cute, timid, and somewhat cuddly; but I can get a little ferocious if backed into a corner.  I am prone to going fast, even when it isn't necessary.  I have that mysterious, mystical side that many east Asian cultures see in rabbits, as well as their lagomorph cousins hares.  I even have that playful, trickster nature that rabbits can have in folklore.  As for the remarkable fertility, I am still waiting.  Strangely enough, I had an even stronger tie to rabbits that I only recently discovered.  My grandfather's name, Arlie, actually means something along the lines of "from the hare's field/meadow."  I never realized that.  If I am ever lucky enough to have a daughter, I had actually been thinking about naming her Harleigh, the feminine form of his name and probably spelled that way. [As for boy's names, my top five, in rough order are:  Toby Jr., Jacob (or whatever name starting with J is my father's), Matthew, Lawrence, and Donald (as in the duck, not the President) {As for why I have more boy's names than girls, for some reason I always picture having more boys, particularly multiple births; probably that rabbit thing again.}].  Back in 2002, a rabbit colony just seemed to pop up in the hill behind my home.  Pretty much every day that summer, I saw at least one rabbit.  Morning and evening, totally at random.  Sometimes, I would have to stand in the back yard for minutes, just trying to catch a glimpse of once hopping by, but I saw one every day.  The best time was the following year.  It was a Sunday evening, just after a shower.  The front door was open, and I took a quick glance at the yard.  I saw some movement.  It was a baby bunny hopping in the grass.  Then, I saw another one.  And another one.  And another one.  In total, there were six or seven bunnies, hopping about.  Then, I saw the mama rabbit.  How did I know it was their mother?  A few minutes later, I looked out again.  There was the mother, lying on her back, with all the baby bunnies trying to nurse.  It was one of the most beautiful and sublime things I have ever seen.  I would have taken a picture, but I was afraid the light and sound would scare them off, and I didn't want to ruin the perfect moment.  While I have had a number of unusual animal sightings, both in my yard and elsewhere, this was still the best one.  [About that title.  I know it is grammatically incorrect.  It is a reference to an episode of the '80's cartoon U.S. Acres.  It is probably an allusion to something else as well, but I can't place it.  The episode was about a doomsayer prophet warning about a rabbit invasion with a sign.  Many characters commented that is was incorrect, too.  At the end of the show, a rabbit stampede came by and took down a bad guy, saving the characters.]

The Polar Opposites

It is the time of year for decorating for Christmas.  Because of the place where I rent, I don't really get to decorate my home.  Even when I was at my old home, we never decorated that much.  We usually only had the tree up for a week or two, due to my pine sensitivities and fire threats.  We never did much outside, either.  That is one reason why I like decorating my store so much, even if it turns out a little eclectic.  I even decorate it for other holidays, ones I never paid much attention to at my old house, such as Halloween and Easter (this is a hint for next week's post).  I know that some people can go to extremes with decorating, but I don't mind most of it.  I find religious displays are normally more sedate, although many can get elaborate.  I don't mind brightly lit houses, as long as I am not driving too late at night; I have very sensitive eyes that can get blinded very easily with harsh transitions from dark to light.  I actually love inflatables, even some of the weirder ones, such as Santa in an outhouse.  Some are bigger than the houses that they stand beside.  Some houses have over a dozen scattered around the yard, in all shapes and sizes.  Other homes are more sedate, especially on the inside.  Perfectly trimmed trees can get a little boring, but even trees in outre color schemes can be adorable.  The newest trend seems to be upside-down trees, although I remember seeing one on the '80's show My Two Dads, although it may have been the early '90's instead.  However, there is one type of Christmas decoration that I can't stand, and that is penguins, especially when they are paired with polar bears.  These two things can't go together, and definitely not at Christmas.  Traditionally, in the United States, Christmas and Santa Claus are connected with the North Pole.  As a far off point where it is cold, that makes some sense.  However, penguins are not native to the Northern Hemisphere.  Many are found in Antarctica, near the South Pole.  More are found in Australia, Africa, and South America.  Some might even be as far north as the Galapagos Islands.  None are anywhere close to polar bears.  This fact was even the major clue in an Encyclopedia Brown story I read when I was a kid.  Don't get me wrong, I actually kind of like penguins.  On a scale of 1 to 10, I would put them somewhere around a 4. (As for my favorite animal, maybe next week.)  They are find any other time of year, just not around Christmas.  Maybe they are a popular Christmas decoration somewhere further south, such as Australia.  I had a cousin who lived there once, but I don't really know them well enough to ask.  It just seems wrong to me to feature an animal so out of place as penguins around polar bears at Christmas.  Strangely enough, I don't seem to have much of a problem with other out of place animals, such as elephants, probably because they don't seem so ubiquitous as penguins are.  Many penguins don't even live in cold climates.  If you must decorate with penguins, at least keep them away from polar bears. That way, at least it will not go against the natural flow of the world.

Thanks

This might be one of the bravest or stupidest things I have ever done, possibly both.  I have always needed people to help me, as I sometimes have trouble getting myself to do things and I hate being lonely, even though that is usually how I end up.  This was most apparent in late January of 1996.  I was reading the local newspaper when I caught a months delayed wedding announcement of someone I knew.   I admit, I as a little jealous.  Here was someone I felt I was at least equal to, if not perhaps better in some respects, and he was able to get everything he wanted out of life, and I was a failure in most everything I tried.  I was also hurt, because I hadn't seen him in many years and I was no longer a part of his life.  I had tried to tell him how much he was a friend to me on one of the last times I saw him, but things turned out awkward and I didn't say anything, either then or later.  I swore not to make the same mistake.  When I graduated high school, I made sure that I wrote two of my best friends exactly how much they meant to me and how to contact me later.  For some reason, they never did.  It was always part of my plan to have at least one, if not all three of them, in my life for a little longer, at least through part of college, since I knew I would need extra help to get by many of the social aspects. Without them, I only had my mother to turn to and not all of her plans coincided with mine; I ended up in a mess having never found myself.  That spring, I decided to contact them, by any means possible, to help get me out of my problems and help me on my way.  Unfortunately, I only had my mother for help.  I wish I had someone else, but she was crucial to one part of my plan, which I will mention later.  I knew she wouldn't help with the friend who had gotten married the previous November.  He was a little older then me, and my mother never liked him.  She implied that he was a bad influence or worse.  I thought otherwise.  I looked up to him as a role-model/big brother type. For instance, I started wearing ties in high school partly because he was one of the guys who occasionally did so, and I wanted to be cool like him.  He taught me things, both good and bad, that I wasn't going to learn anywhere else.  Too bad not enough of them stuck.  My mother liked the second friend, but there was a different problem with him.  I barely knew anything about him, but I only realized that in hindsight.  That shows you how good a friend I was.  I still felt close to him, mostly because he was the last good friend I had contact with.  He transferred out to a four-year university a year early and without my knowledge.  It only hit me semester later that he was gone and I no longer had any close friends (I never made any in my four-and-a-half years of school).  When I had housing troubles when I transferred myself, I almost tried to reach him.  I didn't know if he was going to the same school I wanted.  Even if he were, I was to scared he would reject my offer, or worse, I wouldn't be able to handle living in a dorm with him due to my insecurities.  I would like to think he was there for my, even if I wasn't there myself.  My third friend was my ace in the hole.  This was because I though I knew something about him that he didn't know himself.  My mother and one of his parents graduated high school together.  I knew this because my mother is always on her class's reunion committee, and they always meet every five years, in not more frequently.  All she had to do was contact his parents, and they would contact him, and he would contact me.  It would have been perfect.  Except, I was to ashamed to ask for help directly.  So, I left my letters and instructions in a place where my mother could find them.  I also told her never to mention them to me, especially if she couldn't, or wouldn't, be able to help me.  After she found the letter, I waited a few weeks.  Nothing happened.  I thought either my friends had abandoned me or my mother didn't try to help, thinking I didn't need them.  Neither scenario was that promising.  I was left to fix my life on my own.  I took up some new interests, and that left me somewhat content, if not exactly happy.  I never had to confidence to apply for grad school again.  I didn't even try to pursue my dream jobs, ending up being set up in a business I didn't want; it has never been successful and should have closed years ago.  I never got to experience life, make new friends, or even think about learning how to date.  It is somewhat embarrassing, but I would imagine talking to them, over the years.  Some nights it would be the only thing that could calm my anxieties enough so I could to go to sleep.   I won't mention their names, as they can recognize themselves when they read this.  That is 'when' not 'if.'  I just need to say that I am sorry I wasn't as good a friend to you as I felt you were to me.  I should have let you more into my life, but I was too embarrassed and naive to do so and too scared and insecure to enter yours'.  I should have tried harder to be on my own, and I will always regret on all of the things in both your lives and mine that I missed out upon because of it.  I am sorry I haven't yet lived up to my potential and become the man you knew I could be.  This is one reason why I want to go back to school.  I messed up my life so much, that the best way for me to move forward is to start over.  I know I can't go back even more, even though I wish I could.  You three have been a great influence on me, even after all of these years.  For this, I will always be grateful.  Thank you.
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If I get all three of you to read this, it will be a major accomplishment.  I wanted to do this for Thanksgiving, but I lost my nerve.  Still, Christmas is just as appropriate.  I am getting ready to tell my mother I want to go back to school, both UK grad school in the fall and maybe some undergraduate work this spring if I can't make the grad school deadline.  I probably missed the spring semester deadline, even for non-degree, but we'll see.  She might say we don't have the money, or try to convince me to do something else.  Some days it seems like she is deliberately trying to sabotage me.  It is embarrassing.  I am 45 years old and I still live with my mother.  Technically, I work for her, as the accountant set the store up in her name only.   I need to grow up and be a man.  That is why I posted that topless profile pic for a few days.  I bet done of you would do that.  I might put it back up after the holidays.  I am not asking for help or support; it it good enough to know that I can still get in touch.  I messed up my life, but having even a part of you back has given me hope.   So I thank you R., A., and B.  Merry Christmas.  Hope to talk (and play) with you soon.

A Contest of Roles

I've been a fan of Games World of Puzzles magazine, in all of its incarnations and iterations, since the seventh grade, or so.  Unlike many other puzzle magazines, it has articles, as well as reviews of various types of tabletop and electronic games, although not as many in its current form as it used to.  Another feature it has is a contest.  Almost every issue over the years had at least one.  I enter them about a little less than half the time, usually only when it is a puzzle type I like or if the subject seems particularly interesting.  In the December issue, the contest was all about connections between actors and the television shows they appeared in, at least for one arc of one season.  Let me show you an example I created to explain thing a little better.

  ┏━━━━━━3,4,2,6━━━━━━┓     Orange represents television shows.  Yellow represents actors, of either
4,6                                5,5    gender.  Digits represent the number of characters in the words of a
  ┗━━━━━━5,3,4━━━━━━━┛      show's title or an actor's names.  Lines connect actors to the shows they 
                                               appeared on.  
The original puzzle featured show that date back to the 1970's.  However, my example has more recent shows.  In fact, one was one the air on Monday, November 6 (hint, hint).  Answers appear at the main bottom of the page. [By the way, it was a lot harder than it looks to come up with this example.  There are not that many current shows that feature two actors who starred together on a different show, and both are still working on it.  I could have used a few other shows and actors that would have been easier to identify, but I really couldn't find any with two actors still working there at the same time.  That is why I included the hint.]   The actual puzzle included dozens of shows and actors, almost all of them treated this exact same way.  Four shows and three actors were only represented by question marks.  The object of the contest was to determine these seven entries by their connections to the others. If I had a computer, I probably would have solved this puzzle in four to five hours.  Instead, it has taken me weeks to search IMDB (a few minutes at a time), entertainment magazines, a world almanac, and my own television viewing habits to finally come up with what I think are the correct answers just minutes before I typed this post.  I think I even came up with an alternative answer to one of the contest entries.  All of this is good, because I just got the January issue in this past weekend.  It took me under twenty minutes to solve that puzzle using only my solving skills and my general interest in the puzzle's ultimate subject matter. I would have hated having to enter the new contest before I has even finished with the previous one.

 Keep scrolling for the answers.




Answers, clockwise from the top The King of Queens, Kevin James, Kevin Can Wait, Leah Remini.

Who Am I This Year

Yesterday was Halloween, and, as usual for the last twenty plus years, I dressed all in black.  Many years I go casual, but this year I wore a dress shirt, no tie (I haven't needed to wear a tie since 1995, make of that what you will).  Some years, I even went as far as having black underwear (clean, of course), but not this year.  I started doing this in high school, as a way of dressing up without having to wear a costume.  I loved trick-or-treating when I was a kid, especially the costumes.  My mother would always hand-make them, but some years were better than others.  My first Halloween was when I was four.  I was a scarecrow.  I don't really remember that much about it.  Things were even better when I started school, because I got to wear my costume all day.  That first year, I was Raggedy Andy.  A girl had dressed up as Raggedy Ann.  We were sitting together for the class party, but my mother moved me to another table because the one we were at was too crowded.  The party wasn't as much fun after that.  The next year, I wanted to be a vampire, but my mother thought my hair wasn't dark enough.  To be fair, I was fairly blond until the second or third grade.  She made me into Little Sprout, the Jolly Green Giant's regular-sized sidekick.  I couldn't wear it to school because it was so fragile and elaborate.  It was also so cold that night that I had to wear a coat, and no one really got to see it anyway. For fourth grade, I got to be a dragon.  It had a huge cardboard mask.  My mother didn't want me to wear it to school because she was afraid someone would try and damage it.  I overruled her.  While waiting for the bus to go home, some kids did try and ripped off one of the Styrofoam eyeballs (that wasn't even the worst thing to happen to me waiting to go home, but for on that some other time).  It was easily glued back on, but she was still somewhat mad at me.  For sixth grade or so, the school was holding a special dance.  I actually went.  My costume that year was a mummy.  It was warm that year, and part of my costume was wearing long, thermal underwear under bloody gauze bandages.  I am not sure if it was the heat or the embarrassment of being in my underwear, but I was so uncomfortable that I had to leave after only a few minutes.  For my final year of costumes, I wanted something great.  However, my mother kept nixing each one of my ideas.  Finally, she decided that I was going as a scarecrow again.  I hated it.  To this day, I don't understand why she couldn't just listen to my and try out one of my ideas.  It looked so bad and uninspiring.  That was to be my last costume.  I did have a costume of sorts for my lead role in my eighth grade class's Christmas pageant, but we never got to perform it.  I would have tried acting in high school or college, but I never got the chance.  The best I get to do is dress in black, one day a year, and pretend it is for greater things.

I Don't Want Candy

When I was growing up, one of the best things I liked most about Halloween was being to get all the candy that I could never get at home.  As I have mentioned before, I had a very overprotective mother.  So much so, that she only let me trick-or-treat at the homes of relatives.  She wouldn't even let me go to most of our neighbors.  What she really didn't like was for me to eat hard candies.  She was afraid I would choke on them, even up to when I was seven or so.  Unfortunately for me, that was the type of candy that I liked best.  It was mostly because they were fruit flavored, as opposed to chocolate, which took me years to really get used to.  Don't get me wrong, I liked chocolate back then, only when it was a plain bar with no extras.  Especially not nuts, really hate them.  Anyway, I preferred fruit flavors.  At best, my mother would allow the occasional lollipop, but only because of the stick.  Halloween would be the only time I could get other favorites.  The only other type of candy I really liked back then were Jelly Belly jelly beans, which really weren't a Halloween type of candy.  Whenever I would go out, I would try to get a bag, especially when I could get to choose my own mix of flavors.  After I got too old for trick-or-treating, whole new types of candy became available. I remember when Skittles first came out.  I could enjoy them everyday, almost.  Then came the late '80s Gummi Bear craze.  I really got into that for a few years.  As I got older, though, my tastes began to change and I slowly stopped liking candy so much.  Part of it was being stuck with almost a full bag of Halloween candy, year after year, when fewer kids showed up.  Another was my push into exercise.  I had to watch out for extra calories, you know.  Even at my current address, which gets a lot more kids, I still have a little extra candy leftover each Halloween.  This is because I try to save a least a few pieces back of my few favorites.  Nowadays, it is mostly bubblegum.  For the rest of the year, I barely even look at candy.  I must admit, there was one type of candy I could eat by the box, or two.  However, it wasn't for Halloween; it was for Easter.  There was this one brand of chocolate covered marshmallow egg that I literally couldn't get enough of.  I think it was called Luden's, but it has been decades since I have seen it anywhere, so I might be mistaken.  For some reason, I just loved the stuff.  It was only carried by one or two stores locally, and both went out of business decades ago.  It had only been a few years since I have tried looking for it again, but to no avail.  No other marshmallow egg  has ever compared to it.  I just wish I knew what became of it.  Still, there was no better candy.

The Price

The Price

by Toby Hall Weingarten

Bring me your dead,

And they will live forever.

Bring me your poor, the impoverished, those who go without

And they will know riches yet undreamt of.

Every need fulfilled, every desire sated.

There shall be nothing that can't be had;

Nothing that could ever be wanted, forbidden.

Bring my your dead,

And they will live forever.

Bring me your weak, the powerless, those trampled upon

And they will be as the might of legends past.

Ancient mountains break, raging rivers turn.

The earth could crack like an eggshell,

All done swiftly, as if by command.

Bring me your dead,

And they will live forever.

Bring me your forgotten, the nameless, those passed by

And they will be known across the land.

Hearts will melt, minds will bend.

They speak the same name, in one voice

Never even caring, or knowing, just why.

Bring me your dead,

And they will live forever.

Bring me these poor, weak, forgotten souls,

Countless hordes that don't even matter,

And these dead shall stay dead.

Yet they can still be of use to me.

I gain much from the poor,

Using their work to further my own.

A great fortune awaits me.

I gather strength from the weak,

Growing my power, bit by bit.

A great force forms in me.

I take the names of the forgotten,

Adding them to my own.

A great future centers around me.

And these dead will merge, a part of me,

As I become wealthy, and powerful, and famous.

I will finally feel alive, if only for a second.

The hunger will return, the emptiness inside,

But I can wait, for I know I will feed again.

For you see, as a ghoul, I will 'live' forever.

Would you like to join me?

All you have to do

Is bring me your dead.

 

Being Afraid, Very Afraid

I don't readily get truly scared.  While I admit to be a little fearful at times, I am rarely truly terrified.  In the most extreme of moments, I am usually quite calm and reserved.  For instance, I have driven over a curvy mountain road, covered with over an inch of ice and snow, at night, with a Chevy Impala, on two separate occasions. (Actually, the first time may have been in an  Olds Alero, but that is beside the point.)  I was collected enough to make it through, without much worry, even though I had never really had driven in such bad conditions before.  I have been truly terrified, at least once.  I was about four or five years old, and we had gone to a great-aunt's house on Sunday afternoon, like we regularly did most of the year.  We would pick up a Sunday newspaper, and sometimes I would get a little gift or two.  During the fall, these gifts were usually bags of pawpaws picked from the tree in her yard or in the surrounding hillsides.  This day, though, she wanted to meet me in one of her back rooms to give me something.  When I went in through the door, something jumped out from behind a wall and startled me.  I quickly ran to get my mother to ask for help.  She went in before me, and I followed a few seconds later.  As soon as I went through the door, two somethings jumped out from behind the wall, with my mother nowhere to be seen.  I started yelling at the top of my lungs, calling for my mother.  After a few seconds, she and my great-aunt pulled off the masks they were wearing.  For some reason, my great-aunt thought it would be fun to show off the Long John Silver's pirate masks she had gotten for me by scaring me, and my mother had gone along with it.  [As an aside, Long John Silver's was, and still is, my most favorite fast-food restaurant.  For over a decade, it would be about the only place I would eat out at.]  When they showed me that they were just masks, I tried to show that  I was okay with everything,  but I wasn't.  One of the masks had a tiny trickle of spit on it that somewhat disgusted me.  I was also still very scared about the whole event.  My mother should never had put on that mask.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I was changed.  I used to be so outgoing, I would walk right up to complete strangers and ask them about what was going on.  After that time, I found it hard to talk to even people I had known for long periods of time.  How could I trust someone, if my own mother tried to sow mistrust by scaring me?  I would need to be around someone for weeks, or longer, sometimes before I would feel  comfortable enough to open up.  For me, if I could talk to you about anything, especially if it was soon after meeting, it was a sign of greatest regard.  I used to be so outgoing, but it would only peek its head out occasionally, when I felt the safest.  I had harbored the idea of becoming an entertainer/performer; I knew that a had some talents for it.  I still have some of those ambitions, even though most time for that has passed,save in my ongoing fascination in becoming a professional writer.  Still, I wonder what would have happened if I had never gotten so afraid.

Twilight for Dragons

I will try to keep the terms simple enough for those who are unfamiliar with Storyteller games.  As such, I will keep such things as rules and other background information behind the World of Darkness/Chronicles of Darkness to a bare minimum.  At the dawn of time, the Ministers of Creations mad dragons to fulfill a certain role.  These Primordial ones begat the Progeny of lesser dragons.  Unfortunately, dragons' role ultimately went to lesser creatures, namely humanity.  Over time, dragons began to fade, hiding away from the world, with few new ones being born.  However, they weren't gone; their souls were being Incarnated into human bodies, although bereft of many of their memories.  They still could access some, if not all, of their former selves.  With the act of Sublimation, they could briefly return subsume their human form into their souls, and return to their original Epitome true forms.  There would be six primary types:  winged drakes, limbless wurms, celestial l'ung, saurian orms, venomous basilisks, and even the vaguely humanoid sphinxes.  There are also familial sub-forms that weren't as common, and offered their own benefits and drawbacks.  There would be a risk though of losing the basic Dichotomy between their two sides; either a savage Ferocity leading to wanton destruction or a bewildering Perplexity where one would temporarily lose contact with their souls and be little more than human.  Far safer are the facets, mystical elemental powers that are fueled by the many-hued chroma, the energy of creation, that they can access through specially prepared chabocon gemstones.  Even with so few around, societies formed, based around a Primordial Paragon, whose philosphies a group would follow.  Such ideals as whether to lead openly or behind the scenes dominate, with the pursuit of the dragon current condition secondary.  While being in an Allegiance would offer much, it could lead to the feeling of askance against others, a mistrusting of sorts.  The few memories that remain detail a Primordial whose betrayal may have led to their current condition.  All that is known is its current name, Hydra. Now, its Hosts of mutated dragon hydrae seek the corruption and utter destruction of reality.  Yet none can be sure who is really safe and who is being false.  For untold time, only a few dragons would remember themselves enough to hatch and Incarnate in their current sojourn as  human to regain some of their former glory, but with each Convergence of mystical events, more remember.  With the recent total solar eclipse, large numbers now emerge to face the Twilight passing and try to beat it back, with humanity and even most other supernatural beings under the delusion that dragons don't exist anymore in reality, as few can face such wonders and remain conscious of it.  As a certain battle is coming, the question is being raised--What does it mean to be a dragon?

A Convergence of Dragons

During the late 1990's, when I needed to re-invent myself, a got into role-playing games.  Specifically, White Wolf's World of Darkness game lines.  There was something about their ascetic and technique that intrigued me, where other games had not.  While I never was able to join a group, per se, I still collected supplements whenever I could.  After about a year, I got a book that had a rules for creating dragon characters and I ran with it.  I knew that I could use the information provided to develop something that would work within the WOD universe.  It was just a flicker of an idea, but it began to grow.  In fact, I was almost ready to try out for the company in 2003, as a possible job, just before a flood hit.  Most of the collection was damaged so badly, but I managed to save it, in a fashion, for years until I was able to transfer the most pertinent information out of the books before finally getting rid of them.  Barely two months after the flood, while I was still trying to replace as many of the books as I could, White Wolf  announced that they would be ending all their current game lines and replacing them with an updated system.  This floored me.  Here I was, still recovering, and a possible dream of me was changing.  It would be another year before the new  games came out, but I initially liked what I saw. Much was similar, but many of the new rules made things easier.  It was also going to be easy to  develop my game along the same path.  The new games took longer to come out, but one came out (Mage:  the Awakening) that gave me the metaplot hook that I could found my game on.  Over the next few years, I would sporadically work on my dragons, adapting each new game line hook so mine would fit in seamlessly.  I would research books, both fiction and folklore, for anything new I could add.  Then, I finally started to actually write things down.  I created mechanics and rules, developed back stories, coined new terms, and drew icons and logos.  Everything was going great, but I was chicken.  I felt that something else could do better.  So, in 2007,  I began adapting one of the older game lines into the new universe, instead.  I thought that this might suit me better than trying something entirely new.   Even with only my memories and limited resources to go on, I started on a second game.  Since there was much less to adapt, things were going faster.  In only a few months, I felt that I had enough material to start writing.  This took up much of my free time, as I wrote almost nonstop.  When I finished the last page, in August 2008, I had an eerie feeling that something was up.  The next day, I found out that White Wolf would be coming out with a new game that would render mine moot.  After a respite, I would go back to my dragon game, develop some more, strengthen some weak points, but it wasn't the same.  White Wolf would soon change its business model, going to print-on-demand/digital download, meaning I would no longer be able to easily get their titles.  Then, they spun the actual book creation to a new company, Onyx Path Publishing, after a few corporate buy-outs.  Finally, they even started to publish new material for the original game lines, with the newer system renamed as Chronicles of Darkness, with one of their products using some terms similar to mine.  It overwhelmed me, knowing I was 'ahead of the game,' as it were. I still have my material, and it could still be adapted to both lines, but my heart really isn't into it as much.  Although it is still a favorite of mine, game design isn't something I am that passionate for.  Next week, I will go into the game for you, detailing the high points and see how other like my idea.

Recovering the Past, Part Two

Here is more of the poem from last week.  Just click the link, or scroll down. [I have since come up with a proposed title for this poem.  "Love-Struck Somewhere between the Sun and the Moon"  I think it fits.]
IV.  Look at the sun and moon, so high above us.
       There, we will build our home,
       Rivaling Kubla's Xanadu
       His fabled pleasuredome.

       A castle hidden between the clouds and sky,
       A manor house so grand,
       But nowhere will be happier
       Then where I hold your hand.

V.  Only the sun and moon can know the future
      And what tomorrow brings.
      Yet I doubt that they would tell us
      About such mundane things.
 
      If I have need to know what will be our fate,
      I look into your eyes.
      There, I will see our destiny.
      It comes as no surprise.

VI. The mighty sun and moon cannot control my thoughts
       Or what mood I am in,
       But all my emotions crumble
       At the sight of your grin.

       It makes me laugh, and can dry up all my tears.
       It dispels all the rage,
       All the madness will fade away.
       I fly free from my cage.

VII.  You are my sun and moon, my bright shining star.
         You are the world to me.
         Yet you don't even know my name.
         It's such a tragedy.
       
         Just give me this moment, one glorious try,
         A last chance, then I'm done,
         Under the mysterious light
         Of the moon and the sun.

Recovering the Past,Part One

As I mentioned in a previous post, I lost much of my portfolio due to a flood in 2003.  While much of it was weak, in my opinion, one particular piece, I felt, had much merit.  It was a poem of seven or so cantos, (or groups of stanzas, I am not sure of the exact term to use) and I still consider it to be one of my best works.  Lately, I have been trying to rewrite it.  Here is my first attempts.  The cadence and overall themes are the same, as are quite a few word choices.  The final wording and stanza order are still being worked out.  One thing I don't have is a new title, as I have long since forgotten the original one from 1992. Otherwise, it is familiar to the original.  Here are the first few stanzas.  I hope you like it.
[I have since come up with a proposed title. "Love-Struck Somewhere between the Sun and the Moon".  I think it fits]
I.  There is no sun or moon when I'm without you,
    My life just seems to pause.
    Time loses all of its meaning
    And your love is the cause.

    Each second stretches onward, ever outward
    Into infinity.
    The wait is so agonizing
    'Til you return to me.

II.  How dare the sun and moon try to outshine you
      With their obnoxious light.
      I would gladly sacrifice them
      And live in endless night.

    Your beauty glows eternal, everlasting.
     Its warmth keeps me alive.
    As long as you are beside me,
    I know I will survive.

III.  I'd gift you the sun and moon, if I could;
       It would be a pleasure.
      Yet your true love is worth far more,
      Precious beyond measure.

      Not silver, nor gold, or even diamond gem
      Can equal your pure heart.
      No one could afford to buy you,
      A unique work of art.

Reality Shows Used To Be Friends of Mine

My love of puzzles and games extends to my television viewing.  I used to watch game shows such as Jeopardy, (and even fake game shows, like the classic, Emmy award-winning Whose Line Is It Anyway?), but I have cooled off on those.  I still like reality competition shows.  It all started with Survivor, of course, but since in moved from the summer months, I really don't watch any more.  I still like Big Brother, even if some of the challenges seem to repeat themselves.  I am not a superfan who remembers every competitor or watch online, but I do love the social interaction.  I could never go on, though, not with my issues.  I much prefer talent competitions.  I don't really watch any where the audience gets to decide who wins, for example The Voice, as I find it more popularity based than on actual talent.  I first got hooked on them when I was up late one night and caught Project Runway while flipping through the channels.  While I cannot design, I did used to know how to hand sew.  Runway helps me catch fashion trends before they become mainstream.  Although not entirely connected to men's wear (and there really should be a spin-off for this), it still helps, since I consider myself fashion forward ever since I stole ideas from friends in high school.  I guess I like cooking shows most of all.  This love started with Top Chef.  I consider myself a somewhat good, self-taught, amateur cook, but these professionals go beyond most of what I can do.  I get good ideas for recipes and trends, though.  Then, there is Next Food Network Star, something I almost could get on, especially since Kentucky natives have had a good track record (Go Demaris and Jason!).  I just don't think I am anywhere near that level yet, and besides, I am not sure I would like to be that kind of star.  My most favorite show currently is The Great British Baking Show.  I believe it to be the fairest competition out there.  Amateur cooks go out to a tent kitchen over a weekend to compete in three challenges.  On the morning of the first day, the cooks have to create a "signature" dish based on that week's theme.  They know the challenge beforehand, so they can practice and even bring their own ingredients and tools to help.  The afternoon is dedicated to a mystery "technical" challenge where the cooks are given ingredients and a bare recipe outside of their wheelhouse to recreate.  Then they are blind-judged to see how close they came to the actual recipe, ranked from worst to best.  On the second day, the have to create a "showstopper" that will take the entire day.  After this, the best of the weekend is named "star baker" and the worst is eliminated.  The overall winner gets a crystal cake stand and prestige, no prize money!  The only fault is that this last season, my local PBS station aired it two days late, and only one a week even when there were multiple episodes.  That, added to an unannounced pledge drive, led the finale to be aired late.  Not only did I have to hide from the spoilers from when it aired on the BBC last year, but current ones as well.  Then, out of nowhere, TV Guide printed the winner.  Very disappointing.  I only hope the next season goes off well now that it has changed hands and lost some of the talent.  Now, if only someone could come up with a writing competition show, I could go on it and win.  Of course, it might be very boring, just footage of people typing on keyboards or writing longhand on legal pads, but still.

Every Birthday Has a Way of Being Forgotten

Today, July 26, is my half-birthday, maybe.  It is the date six months after my actual birthday.  Technically, it might be fairer to say the half-birthday is 183 days after the real one, but my way is easier to calculate.  Although a 'real' event, I am not sure how to celebrate or when I found out about it.  Then again, I don't really celebrate my real birthday either.  Growing up, school way frequently closed due to weather or flu, so I didn't get to be with friends much.  I had one party in the fifth or sixth grade, but it didn't go too well.  I tried to throw a better party later on, but I don't remember going to school on that date again until college when I turned twenty-one.  I didn't have any friends at that time to take me out to legally drink.  As to the unasked question . . .  I don't really celebrate my birthday any more, not since a few years ago.  My mother got me a cake, but it was twice the size it was supposed to have been and decorated with her favorite type of icing, one I detest.  Some of the cake had to be thrown out.  I never went to many parties either.  Mostly, I wasn't invited or wasn't unable to attend for other reasons or one wasn't thrown.  Not even my mother likes parties for her, even though hers falls on a national holiday.  (Decorum prevents my from saying which, even though one of you might share this important date.)  Things started to change when I joined social media.  I found out that may people consider it a tradition to wish others birthday tidings.  Just a few weeks ago, I remembered that a birthday was coming up.  I was just getting ready to check the calendar, when I got notified that the birthday was the previous day.  I had missed another one, as this has happened to me many times before.  Although I had been busy planning my store's upcoming book signing event, I have a better reason.  I still don't own a computer or mobile device; in fact, I barely understand how smartphones and data plans work.  Therefore, I am usually online only twice a week:  Wednesday afternoons and a few minutes Saturday mornings.  While I can randomly be online at other times, I am never online nights, Sundays, or most major holidays.  I keep missing gaming requests from one friend, because we aren't online at the same time that often.  I said before that I will get at least one device by the end of the year, I will need to when and not if I go back to school, but I am just so technologically illiterate, that I am having a hard time going through with the plan.  Until then, consider this a formal apology for being late for your birthdays.  I will try harder to be timely.  I have tried to post early, but I am not sure how much of a good idea this is.  Still, I am making progress slowly to commit to online social media.  I am about a quarter of the way there, or less.  Right now, I am keeping up with everything.  As long as half-birthdays don't start trending , that is.  Then, I will be screwed.

Dreamless Girl

The plan was for me to start dating when I went away to college.  I would have at least one friend to show me how.  I would be married by thirty and I would have at least three kids, so they wouldn't feel the loneliness I had growing up. (for some reason, I always pictured them as triplets or quads).  Obviously, this didn't happen.  I stayed at home for college, burdened by the reputation I felt I had gotten in high school.  I had no friends to teach me.  I also had a very strict four pm curfew, that I felt I shouldn't try to ask to be extended.  Frankly, I wasn't really attracted to anyone there.  Most of my female classmates were older and already married.  I also may have subconsciously not want any connections to a place I did not like, such as a future wife.  Who knows?  Since I failed at applying the graduate school and getting a "real" job, those were two more avenues closed.  Let's not forget the four years I spent mostly in exile at home.  I thought things would change once I opened my store, Booknotes, but it didn't.  I still was unsure about dating, especially since I had little time to figure it out.  Anyway, I wasn't making enough money to support a family and I couldn't figure out what I wanted as a real career.  After getting on social media, it hit me.  I am forty-five and I have wasted the best years of my life.  I had forgotten to even try to find someone.  Even if I started dating now, I would need to be with someone about ten years younger than me to start a family, if not up to twenty years younger, perhaps. I have always hated the fact that I always seem to be alone.  It is hard to explain.  It was never supposed to be this way.  I once thought that I would be dating in high school.  It was the summer before my junior year.  I had decided that I might finally ask some girls out.  I had been crushing on them since grade school, first grade even.  At least one of them, I was sure, knew what I may have been feeling.  I thought I knew that their old boyfriends had graduated or they otherwise had broken up; I couldn't really understand the complexities of relationships (still can't, really).  First week of school, maybe even first day, and I saw that they had new boyfriends.  One guy had just transferred to our school!   How could they even have met?  To add insult to injury, some of those guys would become my closest friends by senior year.  I never told them how they "broke my heart," until now if they read this. Some female friends tried to set me up with someone, but it never got further than discussion.  If only I had been more assertive and confident.  If only I had had more independence over the summer to be with people.  If only someone had been there to help me out.  Instead, I have become this passive wimp of a man with social skills rusty from years, no decades of disuse.  This is not who I think I am, but it is the way someone else might see me.  It is just not the way I see myself.  I don't think I am destined to be alone.

Making Dreams as Real as Anything

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I have thinking about applying to the University of Kentucky Graduate School to get my Master's degree in English (or a MFA in English/creative writing).  I started to apply decades ago, but I never completed the process.  I have been looking into what I would have to do to apply, and some of the steps are harder than others.  First, I have to pay the application fee.  Second, I would need a Bachelor's degree in English.  Done.  Third, I need unofficial transcripts (and later official ones) from every school I went to.  I actually did this part, but they might not still be on file.  Furthermore, I need a minimum GPA on all applicable courses as well as a minimum total GPA on core requirements.  I think I accomplished that.  Fourth, I will need a one or two page statement of what I mean to do for my Master's.  While I have hinted at such topics in previous posts, I am still not fully sure of what I want to do.  The steps get harder now.  Fifth, I will have to submit ten to twenty-five pages of my work, suitable to which path I will be taking.  My blog post might be adapted to fulfill the MFA qualifications, but they might not suit the Master's option.  Sixth, I would need to submit a form for assistance, particularly for the Master's option, as a prerequisite for a fellowship and/or teaching assignment.  This will also include my resume or CV, as I would be working for the university.  I have no real work history much beyond "Self-Employed" and I see no way that will change before the next filing deadline in January.  This could be troubling.  Seventh, I will need to get a minimum score on my GRE, particularly on the Verbal section (MFA option could delay taking the test or possibly avoiding it altogether).  This is what messed me up the first time, not being able to schedule it properly with the right requirements.  Now, it is easier to schedule and enter, but other parts are now much harder.  I will have to remember things I learned over twenty years ago and learn how to take a test on a computer.  I also will have to determine which option is better -- waking up extra early to make a three hour drive to take a four-and-a-half hour test or trying to sleep in an unfamiliar place the night beforehand.  Neither option is good.  Finally, and hardest of all, I need three letters of recommendation from people who are qualified to judge my work.  I don't have anyone to do that.  Even if I remembered my teachers names, I have no way to contact them (if they aren't dead or such) and they might not have even seen my best work to recommend.  I will definitely need help here, and I will have to call in every favor I can. I do have a few other option, though.  I could try for a Master's in another subject, but I might not have the qualifications.  I could get another Bachelor's first, but Art is the only subject I could finish relatively quickly (I was two courses shy of an Art minor).  I have even thought about trying a different university (such as Eastern Kentucky University) which has slightly different requirements, although my dream is more going to UK than getting a particular degree from anywhere.  I know that sounds a little selfish, but it is what it is.  I may have glossed over a few points, but I believe I have said what I needed to, for now.  Deadline is January 15 for Fall 2018.  I should have started sooner, but this book signing has taken over my time.  Wish me luck.

Too Much To Say

Generally speaking, I try to come up with ideas for a new  post at  least a day or two before I am scheduled to update.  Sometimes, I have the idea weeks in advance, especially when I have a very good topic or a gimmick I want to add.  At other times, such as today, I don't really have anything planned.  I usually have everything mapped out in my head and ready to be typed by the time I get to the computer on Wednesday, but sometimes things get jumbled in my head, and I forget the exact wording that I had planned out.  For instance, I had forgotten to include labels for last week's post and had to add some to update it before I started on this week's post.  That type of thing happens a lot to me when I write.  I think it is due to the fact that I don't like to write many of my ideas down until they are ready.  I don't really believe in making a first draft of anything; I just think it up until time.  This means that I usually have dozens of ideas rushing around my head at any given moment.  For some of my most important writings, I would make at least one draft beforehand, just so I can see things out.  For short works like this, it isn't worth the paper to just make another copy.  Yes, this means that I don't like to change things that much once they are on the page.  For this blog, it works out alright.  For more important things, though, I would create multiple drafts, just to make sure that I am not leaving anything our.  It has frequently been my style for writing all my life.  The main part of it occurs in my head; the actual putting words down is almost an afterthought.  My people might not like the process I take, but it has worked out for me.  Because of this, I don't really get along with others sometimes.  For many people I have dealt with, this ease annoys them.  Sometimes, it can even infuriate.  That isn't that much of an exaggeration either.  I know that I am different this way, but I can't help but writing my own way.  Considering that I have decided to become a professional writer, of some type, this my be a benefit or a problem.  I believe I am now wondering through my own thoughts now, probably to the point where I am no longer making sense.  This happens to me quite often.  It is all because of my writing style again.  I am amazed it doesn't occur more often.  I better stop now before I lose myself completely in my work.

I Mean You (Candy) Crush Me

I used to be a video gamer,back in the nineties. Since I didn't have anything to do, I would sometimes spend all day playing.  Although, I discovered that if I played too long or too late, my mind would get a little weird.  I once played well past midnight, and I believe I discovered a level to a game that I was never able to find again.  I cut back my playing time, somewhat.  Once I opened my store, my game time was limited to weekends mostly, as well as the occasional Gameboy session at the store.  I only worked five days a week, back then, so my weekends were clear.  However, around 2005, I had to start going in on Saturdays.  I had to push so much stuff into Sunday that I had to start seriously cutting back my game playing.  Ultimately, I mostly gave it up.  I even stopped playing at the store because it was unprofessional (not to mention that it was difficult to save whenever a potential customer came in).  I even stopped keeping up with the new games and systems that were coming out.  Then, a few years ago, a was waiting to be picked up at the library after an oil change that turned into something much more serious (strangely enough, that happens quite often to me), I ran out of things to do online and decided to look for games.  I tried out a few, none of them big names, but it started to get me into the habit again.  On another such outing, a finally found Bejeweled.  I had heard about it for awhile, but in had taken me some time to try it.  I loved it.  I would play it whenever I had extra time.  I would sometimes try other games, usually other three-in-a-row variants or the occasional 9-ball sim.  Then, last year, I finally joined Facebook.  After a few months, I got friends and started playing more games on it.  The only real problem here is that I have trouble meeting up with said friends to play, as my schedule isn't as free as theirs it seems.  Still, I have been exploring a few new types.  After seeing ads for weeks for the television game show version, I finally tried out Candy Crush a few weeks ago.  While it has a few  tweaks over Bejeweled, I still prefer it over Crush.  Yes, the latter might have an actual story and better upgrades, Bejeweled is still the original, in my view anyway, for this type of game.  I am not sure why I favor gems over candy pieces, but maybe it is just because I played it first.  I have almost always preferred the first version of something over updates or variants that I find later.  Not always, but frequently.  I do change my mind as well.  What I don't get is why contestants have to dangle from the ceiling to play?  Couldn't the producers find a better, safer way to do this?  It just doesn't make sense to me.  I might watch the first episode or so, just to see it.  I am game for almost anything after all.

When You're Right, You Write

I first got the inkling to become a professional writer in the seventh grade, although I didn't really decide upon it until my senior year, when I took journalism and became the editor of the school paper.  In previous posts, I mentioned my troubles getting into a college with a journalism program or school paper, as well as the difficulties I had trying to get a job as a reporter.  I wanted a steady job before turning to writing, just in case I had problems.  I later would learn that many professional writers actually got their start in journalism. Anyway, that part of my dream has passed and I have decided on a slightly different path to writing.  I need to go back to school to get my Master's/Master's in Fine Arts degree; or, if not accepted, then to get a second Bachelor's degree (probably in art as that would be the only one I could complete in a relatively short time as I was only two courses short of an art minor).  I have a few reasons for this.  First, I need to get back into the feel fro writing.  In case you haven't noticed, I have made a few grammatical mistakes and not just mistypes in these posts.  I need a refresher to get me back to speed.  Just writing this blog, and my store's, every week isn't enough.  I have had many ideas, but I have yet put any down for fear they will become "locked", in a way, and I wouldn't change them.  Second, I have been too isolated from the "real " world.  I need to reconnect with the greater world just so I get to know it again.  Let's face it, I feel that I am unhirable in my current condition.  I have no real work history and few skills.  I can barely use basic computer programs; this comes from someone who used to goof off on the school's Mac with a friend instead of working back in 1989.  While college might be insular, it is more than open enough for me to slowly enter the work force.  As of right now, I think few would hire me, unless they already knew me and what I had once been capable of.  Finally, I have come to accept that while I might have the heart of an artist, I have the brain of an academic.  A university might just be the best place for me to work.  While teaching might not be the ultimate goal,  a college campus could just be the best place for me to work.  I forwent education as a career because I didn't think I could handle being around children, but maybe older students wouldn't be so bad.  There are other jobs on campus as well, if I could get them, perhaps.  Once I have a job, or at least a renewed sense of my capabilities, then I will be ready to start writing professionally.  I think I might need help to reach my goals, though.  I have never been that much of a self-starter, so I need as much encouragement as possible.  Any help would be accepted, even if it is just a random comment.  Really.  Just saying I could do it would be a big help.  Every little bit helps.   Remember that.

Why/Y I Am

I have always kind of hated this time of year for a few reasons.  Yes, there is the increasing heat of summer and bygone memories of having to spend months out from school,alone and away from friends.  Another reason was Fathers' Day.  This will mark the forty-fifth year in a row that I will not be celebrating it.  I have never met or seen my father.  Once, way back in kindergarten, I asked my mother about him.  For some reason, I cannot remember much of that conversation.  The most I can remember is that his name might start with "J"; I never had the courage to ask since, even when the issue started to bug me.  I wouldn't have minded that so much, except I never had another male role model to take his place.  Of course, I never knew any of my father's side of the family, so forget about them for now.  My maternal grandfather died before I was born.  I don't know much about his (Hall) side of the family.  We went to some family reunions of them when I was a kid, but those visits stopped by the time I was ten or so.  I know much more about my maternal grandmother's side (Little) of the family.  While I had a few grand-uncles (or should that be great) and adult male cousins, my mom always seemed to have me visit my female family members.  I didn't really have a role model outside of the family either.  The best I had were some of my male friends who tried to teach me about being a man, but since I did not have the same base level of knowledge to start out on, a lot of those lessons either went over my head or didn't stick.   To this day, I feel that they still had more to teach me if only we had been closer friends or if we had stayed together a little longer.  Now, many of them are fathers of sons themselves, some old enough to be fathers as well.  They definitely don't need a man-child like me busting into their lives nowadays.  I was forced to try and learn much on my own.  I still find it hard to see myself as a man, as in an adult male.  Don't get me wrong, I see myself firmly on the masculine side of the spectrum.  I usually act like an adult, at least part of the time (I have always had a childish mischievous streak).  It is just where they intersect where I seem to have a problem.  I feel like I missed out on something, but I have no idea what it was.  That may be was has been holding me back, this fear that I don't know enough or that I wasn't told what to do.  The weird thing is, part of me doesn't want to know about my father.  I feel he could still be out there, possibly with a sibling (for some reason, I have always thought that I needed a brother, as if there were actually one), leading a life I could have lived.  I don't mind it, too much.  I also don't mind being a father myself, yet.  Yes, one day I would like to have children of my own, just so I can prove to myself that I can be a dad to someone.  To be honest, I really haven't liked being around young kids since about the eighth grade, but I would like to think that would change if I had some of my own.  With my current situation (and basic math and human biology), I doubt that I will be celebrating next year either.  However, within three to five years, I hope that will change and I will finally get to celebrate Fathers' Day, this time from the other side of the equation.

I Dare You to Use That In a Sentence

Last week was the National Spelling Bee, an event frequently appreciated by "word nerds" like myself.  To be honest, I only made my school finals once, and I got eliminated quite early for spelling "break" instead of "brake," or the other way round; it was over thirty years ago.  Anyway, I was going to go on a tirade about how the Bee was running out of words and now had to pick the most obscure ones that have barley been used ever in English, when they through me a curve ball.  The words in the Championship Rounds were actually somewhat common.  In fact, not only did I recognize some of them, but I also knew how to spell one of them (pykrete, it was the subject of a Mythbusters segment).  I was even able to find the winning word, 'marocain' in dictionaries at my store.  Okay, it was the crossword puzzle dictionary and the Scrabble player's dictionary, but it still counts.  I even found it in the French dictionary, but with totally different meanings.  Translated from French, marocain can be a noun meaning "someone from Morocco" or an adjective meaning "of or pertaining to Morocco."  It didn't say if it could also mean the fabric used in by the announcer at the Bee.  It is actually a fairly common word, probably known to thousands of people connected to the fashion industry, compared to the much smaller numbers of some other recent winning words.  It got me wondering though, why do spellers always ask for the part of speech, when it is usually quite obvious by the definition what part of speech it is.  They cannot actually be thinking "I wonder if one can use a bird's name as a verb?".  I mean, at their ages, I knew that a noun was "a person, place or thing" thanks to Schoolhouse Rock.  They must use it as a delaying tactic, or they are not being taught basic grammar along with spelling.  However, my favorite part of the Bee is when the announcer gives examples of the word in a sentence.  The examples are almost always witty and usually have a touch of snide sarcasm.  My favorite one from this year was for ehretia. The sentence compared this ancient Roman term for a female attendant with a young girl's wish to someday become a part of Taylor Swift's posse.  It was a near perfect example for the word in a modern context, while still providing a bit of levity to the situation.  In fact, writing these example would be a dream job of mine.  Sure, you would only have to work two or three days a year, but you probably wouldn't get paid much either.  Still, it would be a good fit for me.  (Note:  The words in blue are definitely spelled correctly.  I made sure of it by checking my notes from the Bee before starting today's post.  Spellcheck did not catch them, thereby proving that the Bee might be getting a little too deep into the English language in finding words.)

I Wanted to Have Some Fun

In a recent post, I mentioned that I had a hard time getting along with the other guys in school due to my inadequacies at sports.  That didn't mean that I didn't join in on physical activities, though.  I occasionally did, and this is the anniversary of two of those times where I had the most fun.  I just wish there had been more of them.  The first time is from 1987, the last day of school.  I was in band and had to be there for graduation practice.  Mid-morning, I saw some of the older band members running into one of the buildings.  Recklessly, I decided to follow them.  They had gotten into some mischief and were now kind of hiding out.  After one of them left (he never returned that day),I hung out with the other two.  We helped out setting up the gym for the ceremony and joined in with the rest of the band later on for the practice.  Afterwards, the band was supposed to have an event to celebrate the end of the school year, but it was just the three of us who did so.   Although we almost did something else, we had a water gun fight across campus.  We even went into some of the buildings!  The water guns were weak and we actually got wetter from the light rain instead of from them.  I developed a rapport with one of those juniors.  For some reason, I could more easily talk to him than to my peers.  I would come to think of him as the role-model/big brother that I needed at the time.  things turned a little awkward by the end of his senior year.  While I would see him a few time after he graduated, I never got to tell him how much he meant to me.  The second time came in 1990, again at the end of school.  We had just finished graduation practice, when I heard a friend plan to play some basketball.  I asked if I could join in. I was too embarrassed to have friends come over to my house, and they lived too far away to be allowed to go there, even if I had been invited.  The only reason I could go then was because no one knew I was going.  He drove us to his home, and we played some after some other guys arrived.  I sucked, and being four to five inches shorter then them didn't help.  It was warm, and we stopped to go swimming at a neighbor's pool.  My friend even gave me a pair of shorts to wear as mine dried out.  A few more guys came by to play video games, but I had to leave.  I got a ride from another friend, and he dropped me off.  This gave me a chance to give both friends letters that included ways to contact me, since they were the two I most wanted to stay in touch with.  While I saw the second from at community college before he transferred a year early, neither one contacted me, because they forgot or lost their letters.  I guess I should have trier harder and sooner to tell them how much they meant to me.  I still regret not staying in touch with the three of them and wonder what could've been.  Even though it had been over twenty-five years since I last saw them, sometimes it feels like only one or two.  Still, better late then never.  Thank you for letting me feel like one of the guys, even when I felt like an outsider.  Thank you for letting me be myself, free of my hang-ups and insecurities.  Finally, even though I know it wasn't exactly reciprocal, thank you for being three of my best friends.  And you still are, even after all of this time and distance between us.  It is time to have some more fun.

Hey Adriana

I started blogging about a year ago as part of my store's, Booknotes book store of Pikeville, Kentucky, website.  After a few months, I realized I wanted write about some things not book store related, so I started this blog.  Since then, I have tried to keep the subjects separate.  This week I cross a line, or at least blur it a little.  Best-selling author Adriana Trigiani will be appearing at Booknotes on Sunday, July 30, from 3:00 to 5:00 pm, possibly to 6:00 pm.  This will be her only scheduled appearance in Kentucky in support of her new novel Kiss Carlo, due out June 20.  The last time Adriana came to our store, in 2006, we sold out of all of her books and had to order more in the following weeks to fulfill all of the orders.  Adriana sent our personalized book plate labels for people to apply in their books afterwards.  This time around, especially since we will be having a greater reach in media coverage and the only event in the region, we might be having an even bigger turn out.  Her last visit was the single best day the store has ever had.  While Kiss Carlo and other titles will be available at the store for the signing, we highly encourage customers to pre-order the titles they want to ensure they get them.  Orders can be placed either in store or over the phone.  Once Kiss Carlo comes out, limited numbers of it and a selection of her backlist might be available for purchase on the store's website, probably via PayPal or other means.  However, my financial and technical skills might not be up to the challenge, so plan accordingly.  This event could be a make-or-break moment for the store. Adriana's last visit had people come as far away as Richmond, Kentucky to Richmond, Virginia.  This time around, we might be able to score other major authors to show up as well, if we do even half a well as last time.  There have been a few well-know authors to show up, most notably Robert Morgan multiple times, but not as many as expected.  I know that this is blatant self-promotion posting all of this here, and not just on the store's blog page, but I need all the free publicity I can get before the big roll out starts next week.  I am hoping I haven't been too off-topic this week, but this signing has been on my mind a lot lately.  The initial book orders are about to go out, and I need a rough estimate of how many to order.  These first forays were therefore necessary to get an accurate picture of what might happen.  My next few blogs here will not be as store related, I promise you that.  So, good-bye until next week.

I Could Have Been a Contender

This past weekend, I was wearing some old clothes around the house that I used to wear from high school.  They were still in fairly good shape, but the pants were way too loose on me.  Back then, I was a 36 waist going towards a 37 or 38.  Now, I am about a 34 waist, a loose 34 at times at that.  Even many of my current pants are a little too big on me, and some of my dress shirts are now too tight along the shoulders to properly button the top button.  I owe it all to the exercise program, mostly weightlifting, that I started back in the late 1990's when I was anxious about my health.  While I would have liked to become big and buff, with my picky eating habits, erratic schedule, and fluctuating metabolism, I am happy to settle with being functionally strong, relatively fit, and having a chest slightly bigger than my stomach (the occasional vein popping out when I flex a muscle in the right way is fun too).  But, it got me to thinking awhile back.  I had the skills to become a jock in high school.  In fact, if they had instituted a track and field team just a few years sooner, I would have tried out for it and I think I could have made it.  I would have been a long distance runner, possibly a few throwing disciplines as well.  Even today, I will run at inopportune times just so I can feel the soothing wind rush across my face.  If it had started in my freshman/sophomore years in fact, I would like to think that my teammates would have asked me to try out for other sports as well, if I proved capable enough.  Almost definitely baseball, as the skill sets and players would have had the most overlap.  Baseball was always my most favorite team sport.  I would have even gotten over my dislike of contact lens to have played better.  Possibly football in my senior year, although I hate physical contact.  My lack of strength and size would've limited my positions, so I would have been stuck on the sidelines a lot.  Definitely not basketball though.  At barely 5' 9", with about a quarter inch of that occurring after graduation, I lacked the height for it.  Still, someone might have tried to drill me endlessly, just so my skills would be good enough to try out for B team.  Anyway, I don't really regret not joining in.  I never had the opportunity as a kid to learn about sports that much.  I didn't live near enough to any friends to practice skills outside of school.  I always felt a little outside from the rest of the guys in physical activities due to my lack of skills back then.  To be honest, I don't really have a competitive side; I am more cooperative in nature.  I can also be a sore loser, and winner.  The kicker though, I keep seeing all of these pictures of former athletes, not just from my high school, but everywhere, and so many of them are now sporting, what do you call it, "dad bods."  Then there's me, the once slightly overweight nerd form high school, who is now the one who is somewhat fit and athletic, and I can't help but to silently gloat.  I guess that is one benefit to being single.  Now, after revealing this, someone will dare me to prove it.  I am still way too self-conscious to post a shirtless photo of myself, at this time.  Maybe sooner than later, or not.  We will just have to wait and see.

Broken and Busted Stuff

It was 1996, a week or so after my birthday.  I was reading the newspaper and saw the wedding announcement of someone I used to know.  The actual event took place three months earlier or so,  out-of-state, but it only was printed then.  It triggered something in me, a panic attack.  All the frustrations of going to a school I didn't like, twice missing deadlines for grad school, not finding a job in my chosen field six months after leaving my last one, never going anywhere or doing anything, never figuring out the social or dating scene, and worst of all, losing contact with everyone I ever knew, even those I considered my closest friends.  I could barely talk for the rest of the day and part of the next.  I'm amazed I could even drive.  I felt alone and forgotten, a failure.  My spirit broke.  The world had given up on me, so I gave up on the world.  Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a complete shut-in; I spent at least one day a week outside of home, but I barely did anything.  I tried to apply for newspaper jobs, but I lost interest in the field and gave up after a year or two.  Graduate school requirements changed and I ultimately forgot to try to apply again.  I was limited to about a thirty mile radius from home for driving and never at night, so I had no social life or opportunity to date.  Even if I hadn't, I wouldn't have known where to go or what to do once I got there, not without someone's help.  I didn't even go to local weddings of people I knew, even to one of my friends I felt closest to.  I can't remember if knew beforehand or not, only that it was open invitation and I felt too proud not to be personally invited, although it was really because I felt too ashamed to be seen as a failure.  That still bugs me because it would have freed me from my dull existence so much sooner and make me happy.  I even tried to write letters to some friends, even though I knew they would probably never receive them since I had no way to send them..  At least it eased my mind.  This went on for four years, until I was forced to open my book store, Booknotes, because my mother couldn't stand me being a slacker bum any longer.  It was only supposed to be a stopgap until I found something better, but it has become a crutch that keeps me from moving on.  I basically want to become a professional writer, I guess, but I need some other career for support before I can try for it.  That is one reason I want to go back to school, to help find my way.  The obstacles are even harder for applying than they were then; that is why I have alternate plans set up for different fields, schools, and even degrees.  It still looks hard.  I can't have the store closed for more than one extra day a week, so I can't go anywhere for longer than half a day and even that seems rushed.  With an hour commute every night, I don't really have the time or energy for any sort of social life.  I am still uncomfortable around groups of strangers, sometimes, especially in unfamiliar settings, at least without support.  Technically, my only real social life is with my two or three online sessions a week with social media, and even that hasn't turned out quite the way I thought it would.  It is helping me feel connected again, but that is a topic for another post.