The Finale

Well, here we are, the final schlemiel, I found these tasks of daily blogs to be quite challenging. Trying to find something of substance to write about every day. Because one thing I did find out about myself is I can’t just right nothing. Literally, I can’t just write crap over and over and over and you get the point. I get bored, frustrated, and then I tend to rant. Sit up, sit down, pace circles, just write about something! And then I get some of my best stuff, squeezed blood from this turnip of a head, nature’s nectar. Sometimes my best stuff is just nothing, but I have an overwhelming drive to make it something. So this project was maddening. And sometimes that was a good thing. I liked having a forum to vent, without having to depend on structure, or grading, or opinions. Somewhere I could just express myself. I discovered that writing how I would speak or convey a message is okay, that there must be a form but that is bendable, not breakable. The challenge was in opening my mind and letting it wander, and then recording the progress for someone else can follow and see where I’ve been. I liked the challenge after a while, as maddening as it was. I didn’t like the control of a blog every day. I want to be able to write when something comes to me. But therein lies the problem, right? If I only write when I want, then my best writing may never come out. I am my own worst enemy as a writer. And that’s what changed in me as a writer. The challenge is my best edge and my worst tool. One in which I can only hurt myself to be my best. Ha-ha…

Communication

ENG 101-DAILY BLOG 10-3

            Second to the last blog, I never run out of things to say, but I tend to catch writers block when I censor myself. As late as it is, or early, my mind is a big garble of tangled thoughts wanting to shut down anyways. Not my best work, but I’m still filling lines on the page. I’m starting to understand the reason for form to an essay. If every paper were like talking to a bi-polar, depressive, obsessive, sufferer of ADHD with Tourette’s then we would never have any intelligent discussion. Some type of rhyme or reason needs to be behind our conversation. Some type of pattern or rationale needs introduced for open communication. We must have the tit for tat, the witty banter, the way to keep our listener entertained enough to continue, and they us. That’s what I love about communication, it takes at least two entities involved, one to send a message, one to receive. In communication, this typically goes back and forth, or round robin, or bouncing from one participant to another, but there must be two at least. How to get your message received best, like you want it accepted, is the trick. Should you use forcefulness, or sound threatening? Should you try and establish a report, or gain your listeners trust. Should you be a straight shooter, and get right to the point, or will a little manipulation and trickery, with a little sugar to sweeten the words. Knowing these factors that people use to communicate makes it hard to have a civil conversation without wondering if you’re wading in the waste, or drowning in it. Communication really vexes me in the human condition.

Happy Anniversary

ENG 101-DAILY BLOG 10-2

            Happy Anniversary! 5 years and 10 months ago my wife and I officially got together. She is the reason I live today. If it weren’t for her to fight for me and make me want to fight with her for me, I would have never made it out of Nevada. I would have gone home and prepared to die like the doctors told me. I’ve known my wife since the spring of 1991, she was 14 years old, almost 15. I was 19, she was my friends little sister. She was very hard shelled, very aloof, but I had a need to get to know her, get past the walls she would try and put up, and I didn’t have the ability to read her. That drove me mad, ha-ha…and she knew it, and of course I was the same. We’d go back and forth, day after day, week after week, smart one liners to each other, pretending to not pay attention to each other. It was fun. But her brother was worried, and he was my friend, a very good friend, and he came and talked to me. He said that if I was just playing around and having a good time with his sister, then to stop, “please stop” is what he asked. And then he said if I had true intentions that I had his blessing, and he would back us all the way, if needed. It was the first time I understood. I was not the one yet. I could not treat her the way she deserved to be treated. I was not faithful, not honest, not worthy of her devotion. I was not worthy. But one day 5 years and ten months ago I told her I was ready, and I would be loving, and faithful and honest…Honest. Honest? I still feel unworthy…but I’m the lucky one with her devotion. Happy Anniversary.

Selfishness- the right thing

ENG 101-DAILY BLOG 10-1

            Today I want to just freewrite. I am just worn thin so no idea where this is going to go. I’ve been binge watching the first season of “Gotham”. It’s pretty good so far, it has captured my need to binge watch TV shows occasionally. I like how it follows Detective Jim Gordon, so far, as like the central character. He is the one constant in the “Batman” universe, other than the Caped Crusader. They test his morals in almost every episode. He tries his best to follow his beliefs, but it just keeps getting harder to monitor his actions when his loved ones and friends, even workmates keep either getting into the wrong hands or helping test his resolve. I relate to Detective Gordon, I feel like I am compelled to do the right thing, to set the right example, to make it possible to look myself in the mirror every day with pride, not shame. But it always seems like the rug gets pulled out from under me. Like I’m a hamster in a wheel, I never keep going and going, but I seem to get anywhere. I feel drug down by this but I love taking glory and happiness in from the good times. The look of gratitude from some good deed I’ve done. The pride I feel when someone comments on my child’s behavior. The look from my wife when she is reminded again and again that she finally chose the right one. The fact is I’m selfish. I’m a better person because it makes me feel good and I want my children to feel the feelings I do one day. The feeling I feel when I know I’ve done the right thing.

A rant that turned out to have a point.

ENG 101-DAILY BLOG 9-30

            I am looking for a blog to enter. I am watching “Exodus: Gods and Kings” with Christian Bale and Ben Kingsley. Man, Christian Bale is sure in a lot of movies! I really only liked him in the Dark Knight trilogy so far, but this one was pretty good as far as his acting. I wasn’t too hot on the movie. We’ve probably all seen at least one depiction of Moses and the Exodus. My favorite was the animated one, “Prince of Egypt”. And it did hold true to the story I felt. This version had more of the scientific explanation to the story of the plagues. I tend to believe in the miracles and wonders of the Bible. Not because there could be some scientific, or common sense way of explaining miracles in a way we can understand how they happened, instead of mystically, but because this is my basis for faith. And personally if people line it out in a way where we can understand or even recreate it, then it just gives me more faith that all miracles are real. For me it’s like belief in Christ. When my faith faltered, and it has many times, it was brought back by one of two things. Belief there was a God at all, was what I was needing hashed out for myself. Well one day, one of my friends, a hardcore, headbangin, hand horn throwin, metal head  asked, after talking about my faltered belief, if I believed in demons. Lesser and Greater evil spirits, whether human or otherworldly. And I said yes, because I had seen what I believed to be a possession before, a possession and an exorcism, by a group of young people who were all told that anything was possible if you only believed AND ask in the name of Jesus. And so I believed in demons and the Devil through my participations in Ouija boards, magic callings and trying to talk to the dead. “Well,” my friend said “if you believe in that, then you have to believe in God, because God created the Devil, Lucifer, as an angel first, and cast him from heaven for disobeying him. So if there’s a Devil, There’s a God, and if this is true then Jesus must be his son, and the only way to be saved from the demons and evil spirits, even the Devil himself. Just ask “In Jesus name I pray”. It’s in the Holy Word that I believe is God’s true word. And only he can translate it and let you see through all the other stuff that has been implanted there. If he is real, and I believe he is, then HE IS that powerful. The miracle is in our free will to decide for ourselves our actions and beliefs.

Numbness...

ENG 101-DAILY BLOG 9-29

            A man walks out his house, slowly as if in a dream or like the world had changed or stopped and gone numb. It is almost dark, to the point that you can still make out familiar colors in the silhouettes of twilight. Something’s in his hand. It’s a key…but not his key. There is a Jeep in his drive way, not his Jeep. His wife and daughter head towards the vehicle. He figures he might as well also. They start their GPS and drive and drive and get lost and drive some more. Finally they arrive at their destination. They walk in, unsure of what’s going to happen. They know why they are here, the fighting, the yelling, the disrespect. Staying out late, not getting up in the morning, disappearing for hours on end. But now only confusion, no surety, and the feeling of a depressing ending. They wait in the waiting room for hours. Finally, they come and show them to their room. They take the daughters vitals, ask her to change, Dad excuses himself. When Dad returns they wait some more. Mom falls asleep, Dad and daughter watch TV. Daughter can’t decide what to watch, cooking show…click, Law and Order…click, shopping network…click. Finally Law and Order. They watch in silence and then finally the daughter, and then the Dad fall asleep.

            They are finally woke, and told they are ready to be moved to intake. A nurse and a security guard take the daughter, and instruct the parents to get in their car and they will need to drive around the building and go to another facility to further their intake, and to please follow the security guard. So the parents silently, stumble back out to the Jeep that is not theirs, they get in and start it up, and begin driving. Shortly they see the security car which is apparently leading them on. They follow the car to another building, they get out and follow in the nurse, the daughter, and the guard. They are lead into what looks like a cell, or an interrogation room. They are greeted with smiles and cheery dispositions, but it doesn’t change the feeling any. They are told it might be awhile, so if they are hungry they have sandwiches and TV dinners, stuff to drink, and offered blankets. They all have some juice and ask for blankets. It’s then suggested that it may be awhile, but they should take a nap. There was no TV, the view out the window is blocked. And there is three soft, plushy chairs, one hard chair, and a round table. After some time their blankets are brought and the lights are turned off. The girls goes to sleep. The Dad sits awake in the darkness. He wonders how he got here, how he managed to be in a locked room staring out at nothing with a single white blanket again. Hadn’t he promised himself to never find himself in this situation again?

            When he wakes in the morning, it is by his wife. She is going to get needed things from home. Home, he wanted to go so bad, but his place was here, keeping his daughter safe. So stay he did. He covered back up and went to sleep. When he was woke again it was day light. Someone, who had apparently had her coffee this morning, came in and stated very loudly that it was time to wake up, and she was the intake worker. The first thing she wanted was his chair. He moved to his wife’s chair and settled in, as he heard her say “Alright sweety, it’s time to get up, I need to talk to you.” His daughter woke up and got situated in her chair. And then the questions came. Are you depressed? Has anyone hurt you? Do you want to hurt yourself? What brought you here today….And then she showed her. First one arm and then the other, cuts. Cuts, and cuts, and cuts every which way. There must have been 200 or more cuts on her arms, with more on her legs. Why would you do this to yourself? Do you take drugs? “Yes, marijuana” she said. Do you drink? “Yes” she said. How much? “3 or 4 times a week.” How much when you drink? “I drank half a bottle of cherry vodka before I came in today.” The Dad’s head just dropped in his hands. Now he knew why he was here, now he knew what he had done to deserve to be here. He had not provided the right upbringing for his daughter. He had failed. And then, a knock at the door. It opens. A nurse pokes her head in and says ”Mom is here.” He got up and went to the lobby where mom was waiting for him. They hugged, they kissed, small talk for immediate needs and then she went back. He sat down, numb, other parents in the lobby blindly staring ahead or at the morning news, some crying, some too tired to reflect any emotion, no one trying to look at each other. One time he heard the door open and a nurse came out, followed by his wife, followed by his daughter. She glanced over as if knowing the Dad was there and he looked back at her with mourning eyes, quickly she looked away. A little while later the wife returned, no daughter, no hug. The Dad got up and followed the wife, confused, was this the last he’d see of his daughter? Numbness…

Kitten scratch...

ENG 101-DAILY BLOG 9-28

            What a new day! We’ve been having so much fun here (nudge,nudge-wink,wink). I’ve got this kitten, something the wife said we needed, and every time I move my hand he latches on like the chicken hawk from the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons of my childhood. I think this is a sign of love and safeness, you know security, but I’ve never known a breed of cat, let alone a species of animal who showed affection by trying to maul their object of affection. So you can try and guess how many times I have to hit the backspace button. Shall I give it a try to writer with out backing up? How long, how many seconds? 30 seconds? Okay go. So I jnsuh6gdt tryin g5t to wri4rt without backing up, thudfcxng Gofds for pre,edic4tvie tezxdts. Okkjvrf, enoufh typing in kitrten scrTCHGH. So, translation? “So I’m just trying to write without backing up, thank God for predictive text. Okay enough typing in kitten scratch.” Wow it took me a minute and a half to rewrite that just by keeping him off. He is an on again off again cat, when he’s on he’s attacking, when he’s not…don’t wake him! Really, DON’T WAKE HIM! Or he’s your problem! His name is Dash, and he is white with orange, tiger pattern spots, and we love him very much. One day he will Hopefully make us lots and lots of money. And so well, while you might think you have been shorted today, that is all I have to talk about. Have a pleasant Monday.