New poem posted on Liquid Poetry.

A Plasmatic Journey

I'll try to get it added to my website tomorrow.

me

She twirled through the crowds with a smattering of rose petals tossed in her long blonde hair; a crown of wedding blessings the Elves had dubbed it. A small flock of halflings followed in her wake as the music surged to overtake the noise of the crowd. On the edge of the clearing I stood with a gentle giant and watched the proceedings. To a casual observer, this large man’s eyes surveyed the wedding commotion as a whole, but I knew he focused on the young lady who danced on her wedding day. Tears dampened his view and a quick wink dismissed them to the ground. I saw them fall and he knew I did, but he stood as a granite statue fixated on the events before him.

The start...I don't know about 30k of words, but it is a start.
Written in first person by Gnorman. I like it so far (see quote #10).

me

She is right....

30,000 by the end of the weekend. I have the time....now let me get to it.

Writing Quotes

1. “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” ~ Ray Bradbury
2. “I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tingle with human emotions.” ~ James Michener
3. “A synonym is a word you use when you can’t spell the other one.” ~ Baltasar Gracian
4. What no wife of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working when he’s staring out the window.” ~ Burton Rascoe
5. “You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you. And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke.” ~ Arthur Polotnik
6. “Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke
7. “No man should ever publish a book until he has first read it to a woman.” ~ Van Wyck Brooks
8. “Work every day. No matter what has happened the day or night before, get up and bite the nail.” ~ Hemmingway
9. “Planning to write is not writing. Outlining . . . researching . . . talking to people about what you’re doing, none of that is writing. Writing is writing.” ~ E. L. Doctorow
10. “Writers have to simultaneously believe the following two things:
1. The story I am now working on is the greatest work of genius ever written in English.
2. The story I am now working on is worthless drivel.
. . . . Of course, believing two contradictory facts at the same time is sometimes referred to as madness---but that, too, can be an asset to a writer.
~ Orson Scott Card

The thing is I don't want you to go back into the mist. You make everything clear.

me

Confusion ruins the glitter of life. Monday seems like the first day of the rest of my life until then it will be impossible to really do much. In essence I have no idea what I'm going to do with the car. I don't have $2000 stuck someplace, but I need it fixed. Right now I'm renting a car for $10 a day. How much longer can that last?

Yes M I've missed you more than you know. Trying to find a substitute for you is like wearing mismatched socks. At times it works out, but underneath everything you know it isn't quite right. After I scanned through the web things I plodded some words down, the most I've written in a week or so. It began as a story about a crazy man and it swept into an account of the past few months. A good form of therapy for myself I think. I always seem to get my truest feelings on paper or at least what I think they are at the moment.

I wrote this last night.

In our contemporary society, most women think men’s idea of love is pure and simple lust. I suggest real love has a seductive lust to it. Love can drip like the subtle clings of water from an old showerhead. Think about it, a warm drop of water never really heard until exposed and then it either becomes an annoyance or pure joy in knowing the familiar sounds of home. I’m not a scholar and love has no mathematical formula. Which is why I think no man or woman can stand up and describe what love is or should be. It is in the heart sauteed by time not by circumstance and they just know without question. That I think is true love.

I don't know what love is. What should I expect from it? How should I give it? From whom can I learn from to emblelish all the things people rant about? Am I capable of loving with my whole heart? My fear is I expect too much from it. I think I have this great capicity to love without compromise and with all-heart compassion and yet I stumble along after anyone who shows me any interest. I feed upon the discourse of the giddy tiddings of those first few weeks of self discovery, thinking this could be the answer and the ends to the earth I will follow. But the path twists and turns into a forest I would rather not venture into and I fill forced to cackle my dismay. The sensation of guilt overwhelms me and I lock my tongue behind my teeth and follow. The woods darken, we do not seek a sunny meadow where we can run and play, but rather the inner recesses of the shadows that consume our thoughts and spirit.

And I think about the lies. Ones I overlooked because of my sense of duty to uphold the feelings I've expressed. We forced compatibility. And one day I woke up and there was this different person near me I never knew existed. They tricksess usss.... I found my groove over the past few years and knew what I wanted, who I was and I think I have the ability to accomplish these things. Were they ever all that important to her? At first they were glorius ambitions and I would make a fine writer...programmer....whatever. But I felt as if she treated it all with distain as if I was some forgotten child who brought her a present. She scans (I wonder if she understands) and then I wait to be patted on the head and told, "Oh that's nice, put it with the others."

'On the pile the three year old distroyed when you let her sleep in my room?' I think to myself.

I take things too hard. I think too much. I scrutinize peoples actions to determine what they really feel. Isn't that my job? Isn't that my make-up? Or am I evaluating my life based on how others respond to my actions towards them?
I do. I thought it was my strength, it is now my weakness.

And yet I can't help but often think how I screwed the best thing in life up...it will always haunt me until the end of my days, even if she doesn't think so.

I'm sorry if you are reading this jumble and it sickens you. It helps me compare my thoughts during this time. But I've noticed where I'm done bitching about her (well somewhat) and I'm trying to realize what I know or feel. Better yet the lack of each within me. I thought I would be great for someone, maybe I should settle for satisfactory. I do know this, it will be a long slow journey. I'm tired. I guess this was my year to run. Physically (lost 120lbs) and emotionally both in and out. Now I'll rest some.

me

How come there are no do-overs in life? Can I erase it like an etch-a-sketch and redraw what I want? The problem with that is I'm quite awful with drawing and I'd probably screw it up even more. Again I'm digressing about writing and focusing on my personal life. This has turned out to be one of the worst weeks in my life, it is rising to number one with a bullet! Not like I'm David Letterman and I have a top ten list of bad weeks of my life, but I can't think of too many others that are similiar. My $450 repair job on my car has soared to $2000, I'm moving into a new place on Monday and everyone wants some of my money and I'm down to two nickles I rub together to keep myself warm with. I wish I was a blonde bimbo (no offense ladies), but then I could go dance at the local topless clubs to get some quick money. Program during the day and lap dance at night for an extra couple of hundred. I guess if I'm going to dream, why don't I dream about winning the powerball lottery? I suppose it would have helped if I played.

This afternoon I'm in a quagmire with everything that is going on. Everyone wants answers to questions I have no idea how to handle. Makes me want to curl up into a ball and goto sleep. Maybe the world will pass me by, but it isn't likely. At first they call, then send letters, then a big Lexus pulls up and a man in a nice suit makes you sign papers so you can go to the court system and tell them how poor you were because no one else listened. The frustrating thing about all this is I have a good job, I really don't splurge on things, but it is all because of this year. 2002 the death of me. Write that on your blog and make it stick!

I don't expect anyone to come to my rescue. Why should they? I've spent the last six months with someone who only knows how to take and she is trying to squeeze even more out of me. And it goes WAY...WAY (did you hear?) beyond $$$, she took my freedom and independance so she can do whatever she wants. I did something stupid Sunday, but I was at a breaking point. No I didn't hit her or anything that stupid, but there wasn't much common sense left in me at the time. Why did I do it? Because I was tired of trying to explain to her how I felt neglected. So I fled. If my car worked, I'd probably still be fleeing, but I can't. Want to hear something selfish? Beyond what you've already read? I feel I'm being punished for her lethargic lifestyle. She doesn't work. She complains. She sits on her ass and watches TV all day. While I worked, did laundry, made sure everyone had the things they needed and yet when it is all said and done. I'm the bad guy because I did care about her so much that I got to a breaking point when I found our she wanted to marry her EX to keep him in the country. This my friends was three weeks ago, before any talk of moving out. How do I know this? Because her best friend told me. I have not brought this up to her, because I was told in confidence, but I'm tired of hearing how hurt she was about how I left just before Christmas. It was a shitty thing to do, but this tidbit of information pushed me over the edge. I only wanted out before I got hurt. I was a paycheck, a roommate, there was no investment in my soul, only my bank account. That is why she doesn't want him deported, not that she loves him, but he won't be able to pay child support if he leaves the country. And she might have to *gasp* work!

She has this strange power over me and she knows it. She guilts me into things and I'm not even sure she knows she is doing it. Or she does and is damn crafty and evil. But I am Satan's minion, ready to do his bidding don't you know. I have responsabilities. I made decisions....I have forever to dispair...

me

So this is Christmas...

It is towards the end of the day and I'm contemplating on going to see LOTR again. The day started off well, getting woken up at 5:45 by my little girl. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as hers were wide open gazing at all the new presents under the tree. It made staying at my ex-wife's house for the night worth it. That my friends is another paragraph in the making! After everyone settled in, Tommy (he will be playing my son) donned his elf hat and passed out the presents under the tree. I received a book from my kids "The Shaping of Middle-Earth". Rachel's (she plays the ex-wife-renamed to X) new boyfriend (call him Bald Bunny) opened my only other present my daughter got me; from then on it seemed I was out of place. After the damage, the assembly of presents, batteries and the chance to 'check out loot' it was mid morning and I decided to say my good-byes.

I have the greatest gift of disappointing everyone I meet. I wish I knew how to stop doing this. Because of the recent events, I could not take Bekah (the sweet six year old that plays my daughter) for the week. She cried in my arms and I felt as I've been ground up in the grist mill. I held her for five minutes and tried to explain everything to her, but to a young girl there is no explaination. And if she hurt as much as I did, I couldn't cry enough to make the pain go away. There was no way I could bring her here.

X and Bald Bunny snuggled up on the couch as the idiot box blared some special reunion stories from some talk show. Tommy pulled out his M&M tie and tried to twist it around his neck. He wrestled with it until he gave the tie to the two rabbits on the couch and they took turns modeling his new look. Neither of them knew how to tie it and I chuckled to myself about how red this man's neck is, but I had strict orders not to make fun of anyone. I took the tie and with a few wooshes had it knotted up around my neck. To my son's dismay I took it off and proceeded to teach him how to do it for himself. After four or five times, he got a decent knot and length and vowed never to release the cloth from its bondage. I remarked the tie would develop creases and it wasn't wise for him to leave it in such condition. He put up a mild protest, but in the end the father figure (I think that is me) won out.

One might think I have a case of jealousy concerning the X and Bald Bunny. Amused would be more the description, I think she put on a small show for my benefit. Why? Rubbing the recent events in my face or trying to get me to leave I'm not sure, but it did make me uncomfortable. Usually I would say screw it and have fun with it, but remember my last post, I've been told I need to hold my tongue more often so I did. I think it made Tommy uncomfortable as well so I said my goodbyes; yes my daughter cried again, then left.

The only restraunt open nearby is Hooters. Christmas at Hooters, I should write a poem/song about it. I decided I didn't want a Christmas memory of ornage shorts and tank tops dancing in my head, I lie I do, but it is Christmas. Instead I stopped at a convience story (sometimes they really are handy!), bought some chocolate milk and frozen burritos! Woo hoo eat your heart out! Who needs ham, mashed taters and all the trimmings! Not like I planned on this cuisine, but things don't always work out as intended.

This next week is going to be long. A lot of difficult conversations, decisions and less than ideal conditions of the heart and mind are going to be involved. I know this blog is really supposed to be about my writing, but in the scheme of all things I haven't believed in much these past few months and this is the reflection of it all. I'm sad yes, but I don't blame anyone for where and what I'm doing today. I'm sad I let Bekah down, but I will make it up to her. I need to.

Merry Christmas, if my wishes and dreams can't come true, my sincere hope yours will!
me

I know it has been a while since I wrote on this thing. Too much crap has gone in my life to think much about writing. These changes must be made if I'm going to become the resemblance of man I used to be, I've forgotten who I am and what I want. In some retrospects, I suppose it shouldn't matter what is going on around me and I should focus on the words, but I've been at a loss for inspiration because I don't have the freedom to express myself. I'm a strange man it seems. I've been reminded of my faults. They are numerous and I know I must endeavour to work on them if I want a healthy relationship. blah blah blah...

Yesterday I had to take the car into the shop, a $450 repair coming up. The car is drivable, but it has issues that need attention. I had to do some creative accounting for Christmas this year. I'm all out of energy and my humor has been wittled away by the strangeness of life. I dare not write a poem, who the hell knows what would come out. Probably some illogical dark sentiments about how things suck. I could call it, "Life sucks and here is why." Whine! At least I know I'm whining. In all of this I miss writing as much as I'm complaining I shouldn't do it. It is in my words where I find the freedom to express myself. Over the past few months my relationship has caused me to doubt anything I say in fear of retribution. Unless it is at work, my carefree voice has been clipped, like the wings of a bird and has been grounded. I dare not say anything in case someone might take offense. Egads man, do you hear what I'm saying? What kind of life is this? And here I sit on Christmas Eve and write this drivel and wonder how I got myself in this situation and hope like hell I can get out of it.

me

2000 words into the story and I'm not sure what I have. This is where I need to drive through past the wall and write the stupid thing and then let everyone else tell me how good/bad it is. In fact I'm not so sure I can trust the internal editor sitting inside my head, because I'm not sure if he (he smokes these god-awful cigars) has the best interest for me or not. Nothing is ever good enough for him. Gee almost sounds like my dad.

I pulled up some other stories I thought were pretty good and tried to work on them, but nothing seemed to click. I realized how many incomplete things I have on my harddrive. So shut up and finish it and then decide. Okay...okay...Remember blog, everyone tells you how much you over think things. *sigh*

I might have an interview at a place in Orlando, Florida. That will throw a wrench into the monkey. hehe!

me

It seems I've walked into a hornets nest. This means I will get stung, because I've never been able to stay clear of the hornets and they always seem to find me. I'm resigned to it, so I fear little these days. Maybe that is the definition of maturity. I found a forum for writers like me and have agreed to write at least 7000 words a week. Yeah...er...uhm...oh boy that is a lot more than I'm doing right now. But that's good right? The point is to shut up and 'just do it'. I scanned the web looking for quotes about writing and many of them (from famous published writers) seem to be shut up and write. Get the story down without worrying about crap. That is what the rewriting is for. I'm trying to take it to heart. Might even put a web page on my site to follow my word count for the week, month and year (along with other members of the forum).

(0)

Soem time to actually put some thoughts down on electronic paper! Woo hoo! I'm bushed. I'm playing basketball twice a day Tues-Thursday for the past couple of weeks and I can tell I'm getting older, because my body takes longer to recover. I enjoy Wed. nights because I get out of the house and have an hour and a half before I play BB to write. The last couple of weeks I've taken a notebook (paper not computer) and wrote myself silly. Last week I wrote 3.5 pages and yesterday I got in 4 solid pages!

I'm not sure where the story is going to go, but the characters are taking shape in my head. I'm trying so hard to turn off my internal critic and write. I know if I start thinking about how good/bad it may or may not be, the story seems to fade and I lose interest. I believe that is another reason why I need to keep writing hard on it. Teach me the self-disclipine of writing through the editoral mood swings. Right now no one else will see it until I'm finished and I can change the heck out of it when ever I want too. When I'm done, then I can poo-poo it or brazen it as the next classic of literature (hehe). I guess I should hope for getting published at this point.

me

Monday blahs....I was busier this weekend than a one winged bee in a green house full of flowers! The end result is that I haven't gotten any new writing done since Thrusday morning. *sigh* And now the 'busy' part of the week is coming up. Tues-Thur (2x basketball and other events!). I'm hoping work will decrease so I can get some more quality time in. *grumble* I know if I really wanted to make it work I'd find the time. *sigh*

Okay well thought I'd check in and say hi to the web. Tomorrow is another day and I hope to report something much better then!

(0)

me

Oh boy am I tired. After running around all night and when I did get to bed, I tossed and turned, so sleep was as elusive as jock itch on a woman. Then I had to get up early, play bus driver and get to the gym where I ran myself ragged again. I'm getting to old for this shit. Heh. The good thing about this all is when I did have an hour of free time last night I was able to get some words down on paper. That always makes me feel good. I'm really behind at work, but I came in early and typed them into word. I think I might start using notebooks and writing things first. I don't get so caught up in spelling and grammar so I can let my thoughts flow.

(850)

me

Freakin' 23 degrees out and my weather pixie doesn't have a jacket on! Now I'm not complaining too much because she has a nice figure, but come on! It is cold!

Yesterday was terrible in many aspects of my life. I really don't wish to get into the details of it all, but it will rank as one of the worst in my life. But the day is behind me and today is a new day! Have you hugged your gremlin today?

Rant warning:
Movies have too many damn commercials in them! I pay $25 to go see a movie and I have to sit through SIX commercials? What the hell is up with that? It is bad enough movies have little originality. And they are same damn commericals I saw two months ago! *rolls eyes*

me

Not much to write about today. I'm going to have to put in some serious hours at work this week so I'm not going to get much done on the writing front unless I sneak some in. I fel like I'm hanging in until the blizzard comes and forces some changes in my life anyways. It has been hard to gear up with my writing. Excuses! But I've been through a lot of crap the last few months and although it is better (far from perfect) I find I only want to relax in the evenings. The enviroment I'm in at home has not been one where I feel comfortable to hang my words out into the wind. Oh well, I will do what I must to make it happen, just need to whine about it every now and again.

me

Thank goodness the weekend is over! I'm thinking the holidays this year are not going to be as cheery as one would hope for me, but that is a topic for another short-sided whining blog. This my firneds is where I'm supposed to whine or shout about my writing. Nothing new this weekend developed on this front, except for a one page short story I started. Quite strange in nature, but I didn't have the time to develop it any further than what I wrote. Funny thing is when I'm writing the subject/plot/characters seem interesting, but when I look back on it I am less than thrilled about the outcome. I need to turn that part of my brain off.

I wrote this strange thing about death. When people die their memories are saved onto film, but not everyone's memories are captured and they have to be reprocessed. Heh. Strange it was! Maybe I'll finish it for the fun of it just to see where my imagination would take it. I'm supposed to be working right now. I have to get this software fixed and back to the customer by next week and the projected time says we are going to be late. I'd rather be on the beach someplace, laptop plopped open and the only sound are the waves crashing in a nice melodic rhythm to help me focus on my next novel. See told you I have a great imagination!

me

Heh I found this picture on the web. I asked my boss to put it over the threshhold into my office. Thought I would share.

me

Another day...woo hoo...I'm not looking forward to Thanksgiving. This weekend is going to be long. I can already sense it.

I found a strange website today. It urges people to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. I don't think I'll be able to put toegther an original piece in four days. The concept is to allow a person to stop thinking so much and write. It also amazes me how many people want to be writers. It makes me feel like I will have to climb over many people to get published. I should think of this like a sport? I doubt it, but it puts in perspective two things. One how many people tinker with the idea. And two, how much harder I should have to persevere!

me

I added a weatherpixie to my website. I must admit that I was unoriginal about this since I saw it on another blog. I'm supposed to be working today, but I'm out cruzing for chicks...er websites! I'm thinking of putting a second one up of Orlando or someplace down in Florida where I wish to move to...SOON! I'm so fricken tired of the cold. Of course this all has to do with writing...:P

me

What a bummer of a time this weekend for my writing. I didn't get much done over the past three days. Can I use the I'm too busy excuse? Well I could, but where would it get me? And if it got me, how would it get me? Remember when you were a child and your dad or mom was going to 'get you'? But in this case I'm not using the 'get me' phrase in this fashion. And for most people who know me, I don't have a great fashion sense. I believe this is the early stages of feeble-mindedness.

I do have a project to write, but the motivation (excitement) hasn't kicked in yet. Which in my little wonderful world is another term for procrastination and lucky for me doesn't involve the use of a proctologist! But I do know I have my head squeezed up the orafice he or she would examine. If by chance you were unlucky enough to have to visit a proctologist, would you rather see a man or a woman for your condition? I suspect getting ones head removed from their ass would require the tact and skill of a psychologist. Maybe this is why I believe I'm a prime candidate for stupidity. Not the kind of stupidity where I can't add two and two together, but the rare form of the disease that allows me to continue to live in an unfulfilled life where the only thing I have contributed to the world is my ability to procreate. Now that sure is one legacy no one else has ever achieved!

Of course I could be wrong about it all...
me

"You can't beat that with a stick." I'm not sure where this saying came from and a google [internet search] provided no answers to the origins of this either. I'm stuck with the ability to eradicate the image of people beating on things with a stick. Some things can't be beaten with a stick. For example on my way to the bathroom, a customer sighed and an employee remarked that it sure was nice to be Friday. In reponse, the customer added, "Payday as well." "You can't beat that." I added the, "with a stick" in my own little thoughts as I walked on by. You can't beat a Friday with a stick, but there are other things you can beat. Which brings me to the old cliche of, "Beating a dead horse." A goggle on these words returns the many usages of this saying including a few jokes.

Now I've beaten a horse to death many times in my life. I remember playing Rolemaster [a roleplaying game superior to AD&D] in my youth and having many discussions to the point where we made jokes about the horse we've beaten to death, buried and rose from the dead so we could continue to strike it with our proverbal whips until we were mentally exhausted. Our usual topic was about a young gentleman who my Gamemaster (GM) had issues (pronounced ith-ues) with. The horse had more lives than a cat and our gaming sessions became more of a bitching contest. It worsened after the young man left the group, because the stench of the horse never disappaited and yet during the night we would find some reason to raise the spirit of the dead horse to beat on it. With a stick of course.

Funny how things slap you in the face like a large hispanic woman who thought you said whores instead of horse, but cliches have been my bugaboo (peek a boo bugs?) since that horrid review of my poem. When the TV has been on and I catch a glimpse of a show I've many cliches used in dialog. Why do TV writers do it? To dumb down the TV so all the morons who watch it can get it? I know it goes on in movies and books as well.

The problem with many phrases I hear is that I have little word play games that fire off in my head. In many cases the humor escapes the casual fan (heh like I have fans), but I chew on the flavor of the giggle I created for my own self-amusement. At least I keep myself happy.

Oh well enough bantering today...

me

Can you believe it is already Nov 21? I think I'm going to wake up dead one morning (a paradox within itself..waking up dead) and wonder where all the time went. That simple thought keep me motivated to write even though I haven't produced much over the last few years. The fear of sitting on the porch, in my rocker screaming at all the youngin's to stay off my grass and wonder what happened to my life! What did I do? Sit around watching TV and playing video games? Hrm that is a good feeling now isn't it?

I really don't watch much TV. The writing is bland and talk about the use of cliches! Half the jokes are based on cliches let alone the cliched format of the sit-com/doctor/law and order format. At least some of these shows have realized to make the shows the same name with different actors. Now I won't say I never watch TV, because there are a few I do watch. Hidden hills on NBC after Frazier is good, always has some interesting topics to speak about, but even then it is cast in the same die as the other family sit-coms.

Movies aren't much better. We went and saw the new Steven Segal movie and I was unimpressed with it. Now LOTR 2 is coming and as I've said before I'm drooling for that one. Not sure about the Star Trek movie, I think they have done all they can with that series, before during and after the original time line. And I'll see 007 if nothing else to gawk at Hallie Berry in a swimming suit. Woo Hoo I'm such a guy!

me

Right now I'm pushing the rock up the hill. I want to write, but I'm waiting for my subconscious to catch up with my urgency and tell my conscious mind where to continue on with the story I already have. Meanwhile I have been to some great websites as I prime my mind. Orson Scott Card has a great site with a lot of columns that are quite interesting to read ( a blog without the fancy name!). You know who Mr Card is don't you? He wrote Enders game a while back that blew my mind. While reading this site he linked me to another site which is funnier, but I haven't had the time to really read. Eric Snider is a humor columnist of a Utah newspaper and it is amazing that Utah isn't a country of its own. Between the two of these guys you really get a perspective of how different the cultures are in the US.

These last two entries should be one post, but I had problems posting and publishing it this morning.

me

Alrighty then...

I have my book...it is actually one I started a while ago and really liked the characters and premise and I think it is my most orginal idea. One of my big issues I have with myself is that my 'ideas' are very unoriginal and all I have are my characters. Well dammit, the characters are what make a story alive. Heck even Star Wars (the original) had the same basic plot as many stories in the past only the setting and characters changed. Han Solo made me a Star Wars lover, but I always liked Star Trek better. The ideas, stories and characters seemed more alive and real than any Star Wars movie. I know I shall not blaspheme the name of George Lucus, but in all reality how good was it?

Take Lord of the Rings {excuse me whilst I wipe the drool from my chin} and how wonderful the book{s} and movie(s) are told. I can get dizzy thinking about them. That is what I'm shooting for not some run of the mill story with exacting plot and paper thin characters. Let me delve (I like the word delve it seems) into people so readers care and want to know more, not bore them. Guess if I'm going to shoot for the stars I need to take aim at one of the masters huh?

me

I updated my webstie and changed it to use some iframes and listboxes on the same page. Thanks for the suggestion Nat! Not sure how much more goofing around with it I'll do, but it is has a much better presentation then it did a month ago. Looks a little more hip anyways. And you all know we must look hip! I'm not sure how I'm feeling today about yesterday's events, but I know I will continue on. I'm too far down the road to stop and take a left turn now. Heh. What I really could use is a nice nap :)

me

Thanks Kathy and Nat1
It is always nice to know there are some who believe in you when others don't. I know my poetry is a bit out there and strange. I use some weird representations of what I'm really trying to say. Is it poetry or not I guess I shouldn't worry about. After work tonight I went to Barnes and Noble and scanned the books. Funny thing about book stores, it used to inimidate me to see so many great books and wonder if mine will ever find a place upon the shelves. Now it is like home away from home. I can grab a book, loose myself in it and realize I belong here instead of many other places. It is almost spiritual for me I guess. Strange, but true. Of course it isn't better than sex, but it can give the same sense of satisifaction.

Over the years I've sensed rejection like this so it isn't new. maybe as I have gotten older it becomes difficult to swallow, but I take my medicine and realize they will all be proven wrong one day. I've already proven a lot of my criticis wrong already so what is a few more these days huh? He wait let me get a few more cliches in this paragraph! They've only added a few more logs to the fire that burns inside of me to accomplish what I want. But like fire it will temper me to become even better. I know my work needs improvement or otherwise it would glisten off the page like a minted silver dollar. Who knows if that day will ever come, espicially with my poetry, but I will continue with my goals and say the hell with them.

Tonight while the rain splashed down around me, the car wipers scrapping back and forth, and some song blared out from the speakers I realized I'm pretty nuts to keep trying. It would be easy for me to simply throw my hands up and let them know they won, but I won't. In fact I will conspire with my subconscious to have a book written by March. So the hell with pretty much with everything else it is time to put up or shutup. you know me and those cliches, I can't leave them alone!

So with that I struggle onward towards my fight. And I thank you all for cheering me on, but I'm the only one who can step into the ring and take my shots and my blows. It is how I recover from both that will make me into the writer I shall or shall not become, but it is nice to know that after each round there are those standing in my corner to help me continue into the next round!

me

Well I put Ruby lips on the Gaz. I knew they would roast it like a pig at a Packer tailgate party. Here are some of the comments of the 'elite'.
1.
"This is really worthless. There is no point in going over it line by line to point out its many errors because it could not be improved to a point where it would interest
an experienced reader.

You'd need to start over, and that's both bad news and good news. The good news is that you can purchase or borrow a decent book on the craft of writing poetry
before you post your next poem. I usually recommend "A Poetry Handbook" by Mary Oliver. It's relatively short, has good examples, and provides information that
can be applied to may different poetic styles.

If this work is representative of your poetry, you really need more help than you will get through posting and on-line critique."
2.
Triston, this poem offers way more information than I need about what's going on. It says dull things about sexual acts in a completely boring manner.

Why would what you do in private be interesting to me? And to join your lips to someone's pelvis, well, they'd have to be some whoppers. Not only that, but you're
tapping your foot in 3/4 time. Give me a break.

This in no way resembles poetry.
3.
The poem is full of abstractions (panic, fantasy, soul, fears, love), cliches (intoxicating breath, caustic effect, savage discourse of love, ruby wine dances upon her
lips), and strange, ridiculous language (Ragged hands torn by a gluttony of slivers grapple along the feminine fears, A tear dispersed by a kiss evolves my
temperament to distinguish between past perceptions to a future)

I'm guessing you are a beginner. Spend some time reading other poets and other poetry on this site. You will learn fast.

Okay so there was a few cliches in there. I admit that, but I also liked the abstractions that was the point. As far as the ridiculous language, well it made sense to me, but I suppose if it only makes sense to me then I'm not communicating very well now either am I? So now what? I'm not a poet or even think like one. Maybe I should focus on my stories, but then again they will be filled with chiches, abstractions and strange language. I feel winded right now.

me

Time. I only need some time to get my shit together. In this time I will find my vioce in my words. I will write. What I will write about I am unsure of at this point. I sought the gaz message boards again today. I'm scared to post their, but I know it might take my writing to another level. I'm not sure which one I should throw to the wolves. On a side note, "Enchantment" was rated #6 in the top ten poems of the week on Deep Water. Funny thing is that poem recieved very few comments while I thought some of the others I wrote would fare better. Guess you never know what is in the mind of the reader until the rubber hits the road. Maybe I should stick that one up on the Gaz. Shrug.

I tried to write a story last night or even start. After a few failed attempts (I did download some mp3s. Heh) I wrote another poem. I'm not sure how I feel about this because in a sense I am writing, but it isn't the output I want. Maybe something inside of me needs to come out and right now poetry is my release. I should go now for a bit.

me

Okay I really need to start concentrating on longer things than just poetry. Heh I wrote one today because I was eatting chee-tos. Funny thing where your imagination starts with and which road it decides to travel. And I need to make more time at home. While at work I'm busy coding for everyone and all I can think about is how I wish I could be writing. After I get home, I dilly dally with the things that keep us busy and when everyone drifts into dreamland. Guess what I do! I play DAOC. (BTW I'm a beta tester for the new expansion!) The game, like EQ or even some muds gets to be repetitious and boring at times, but when I'm able to roleplay it can be a blast and the task of killing the same thing for the 80th time doesn't seem so dull. In the past I've had a tendency to over play games, but I'm focusing myself not to do that with this one. In reality, I should give it up and focus on things more important.

I was plunking around the Internet this morn and found a site of the top 50 places you should see before you die. I think I've seen 3 or 4 at the most. How disappointing! I want to change that. Give my life more of an adventerous tone to it. I think that will broaden my writing. Reading and writing will also do that, but I have that tattooed in my head.

Good or bad writing, like most artforms is subjective. Nat made a good point, but my point was is that I want it to be good enough for my own standards and I don't think I'm close to that yet. If I become satisfied with the quality or subject matter of my craft then where do I go from there? Wouldn't it be really cool to sit down with Shakespear and ask him what he thought? Before he drank himself into a stupor that is. I've read enough about writing that I can almost hear the words he would speak to me. Every writer in every writing book mentions the same things. Oh they all have little twists and turns some patterns of the art are more important to one or another. For example, Steven King hates the use of adverbs and for the most part I have to agree with his assessment. Not that I never use them, but I try to pick as many out as I can when I'm "really" writing. And if you have done ANY writing at all or remember back to the days of Freshman English, what is the first rule of a creative writer? Show! Don't Tell!

This weekend will be busy I think, but I am hoping I can dig up some of the things I have started in the past and begin either anew on a story or regain my touch on something previous. I must admit I'm at a lost for a novel/story idea, but I know there are many floating inside waiting to be plucked!

me

In the still office I concentrate to muse about my abilities to accomplish the life I want. These musing started a few weeks ago as I have previously noted when Sandy asked if I was writing. During this upheaval in my life, someone else who has been dear to me throughout the years (Meredith has seen it all with me) also asked if I still wrote. At that time I admitted that my pen was silent and even though she never typed a word in the IM, her disappointment in me rang in my ears.

With poetry I started up again. I find I can convey a message in this form in a short amount of time. Makes me feel as if I accomplish something, even when I don't have the gusto to write. A funny thing happened on the way to the poet's house. It dared me to start thinking about what was important. How I felt. Deep self examination of my spirit and I didn't like what I saw or heard. But I began writing again and it rekindled my excitement for the craft.

I rediscovered a poetry board to post my stuff. Immediate feedback on what I'm writing is a powerful drug to me. You scrounge for the right words and test them in your head and then the imediate impression it makes becomes addicting. One fallout with this method is that I'm not sure if I'm improving in the craft. Are my poems stronger, tighter and better as I write more? Or am I adding more electronic swill to the internet stewpot? I guess the same could be said for the things I compose here.

See I still have this innate fear of thinking I'm not very good. And all these people are feeding marshmellow fluff feedback to hide their true feelings to protect themselves or me. Which I think is hogwash, but in the back of my mind I play with the idea like a ping-pong ball. Back and forth I try to discover why people think I have this talent for words. My grammar sucks, I fight to spell words and I don't think I stack up within the realm of the proper literary world. In fact I feel as if I don't really have that much to contribute other than my own voice.

My writing voice is what makes me the writer I am. I've never sought to study any one style. I think it has been homogenized over the years by the vast number of writers I have read. I've never studied the true art of poetry. In fact, most poetry bores me. Heh. I don't think I'm supposed to admit that. Now there are some poems and poets that astound me and I love reading them over and over, but I'd rather involve myself in a good novel.

What is all this drivel about then? It means I must trust my on instincts and if I really love to write as much as I profess then there will be someone out there willing to read it. Now I need to open the muse and let the stories out that have been trapped while I rummage through the refuse of my life. I have my purpose (see Gary Larson's farside cartoon about Edgar finding his purpose) again. In fact I have two new purposes, but they are intertwined together. In fact, so much so that one might fail without the other. This of course will be seen and it all might be hogwash, but that is how I'm treating it for now. My focus is on a few matters at hand and the rest they say...will be history in the making.

Well after signing up on this blog. I decided to add a link to my writing page to this so people could read my most intermost thoughts about my writing. Maybe not very provocative, but we shall see what happens over the course of the weeks. Anyways as I looked at my website to add a link I decided it was time for an overhaul. I slapped some javascript in, some listboxes, made a css and woot I have a new website. Very....green...hehe. Then I started looking at this and realized I wanted to the ability for people to add some comments. And DING it happened! So all in all I'm somewhat happy with the way things look. Not sure about this style yet, but everything is working!

I'll add more random thoughts later today!

Guess I will pick on this while I'm at work. [edited for content] about work! In the past few weeks I've taken the time to start writing again. Sandy asked me why writing isn't important to me any more. It used to be everything I'd talk about. Over this summer my enthusiasm vanished like a pickle at a baby shower. I rejuvenated myself to the task of putting my thoughts down on paper. Most have been bleak, but some things have changed over the past few days to give me hope about my life and future. I can only hope and pray it continues so that I can experience everything I'm supposed to.

Over the past few days I've been hitting a lot of websites from authors and grammar. Not to learn tricks, but see what areas of my toolbox needs to be strengthened so I can become serious about this. I flirted with the idea that I would like to make computer games (heck I even applied to EA Sports), but I know in my heart that although I could be content in doing something like that, my real passion is with the written word. And although I have no idea what I'm doing, it all seems to make some sort of sense at the end. Now I think I need to take the bigger leap into the language and dose myself with all the rules so I know why I'm breaking them or why I'm following them. Reading Shrunk and White is a good step, but I need more testing and practice so I can recognize my faults. Instead of being scared of using the power saw, I want to grasp in my hands and cut through all the crap to a well-written poem, story or blurb.

Until another day...
me

So I've joined the community of blogs. I'm not sure if this typical of me or not, but it is an easy place for me to rant about my musings about writing. Most of the crap I write here I will already have the answer for but, in reality it is a nice place to have a discussion with myself and for others to peek in on and see what the big deal is.