For the record.

I got my 2009 Nota Bene (the Anthology I'm in) yesterday in the mail.  It looks nice.

As soon as they post the anthology online (they usually do in PDF form) I'll add a link to the site, and probably add the pieces up there on the site too, since they're out anyway.

In the meantime, check your local Community College library for the business.

Everything else is going well.  I'm playing sports again (bizarre ones... it seems I'm attracted to unusual sports), going to a few concerts, and figuring out what I want to do for my 30th Birthday.  Maybe Bermuda?  Maybe Tokyo?  Maybe I can barely afford either and should be saving my money for grad school?

Refined and cultured... but not, like, in the "monocles and walking sticks" way.

I've been of the opinion for quite sometime that one should only define themselves as a writer if, in fact, they write... and regularly. This does not excuse my lack of a November and December 2009 posts, but I must confess I found myself overwhelmed with the end-of-the-semester flurry of exams, term papers, projects, fiction revisions, work, preparing for vacation, and other lifestyle changes (we got a dog, for instance).

Anyway, I'll just assume I'm forgiven. Onward then.

A friend and fellow writer asked me, recently, how my previous semester went, in terms of fiction critiques/workshopping, etc., and in summarizing it for him, I was struck by a few thoughts that I should probably share.

First, everyone who has workshopped fiction or had their fiction workshopped has likely realized that you cannot please everyone (and, in some cases, anyone). I was thinking about how one person might assert that a particular story speaks deeply about some social situation, while another person reading the same story might think of it as being hackneyed. How does one respond to polar criticism?

They think of it as opposing breezes. A breeze is nice, sure, and it may cool you or warm you temporarily, but breezes are only trickles of air. Breezes don't fill your sails. The winds, though, can catch those wide canvasses and can take you magnificent places... and no one man makes the wind. Also, if they wind isn't heading where you want, you can draw those sails back in and weather the storm... or just see where the winds take them, knowing that it is not necessarily the end of the journey.

There comes a point at which a writer must detach themselves from the academic umbilical cord and set out on their own journey toward realizing their fiction, honing it, and refining their skills. Ultimately, each writer must steer their own ship and find their own winds. The basic skills remain the sturdy foundations (and sometimes they require a return and re-examination), and there is certainly a constant learning process and growing process, but the journey is individual. I know mine has borne no resemblance to any other I've heard of.

Now, here's a broad, sweeping statement about art.

My opinion has always trended toward "technique" being the defining line between "art" and "expressed creative energy." This is why I don't typically appreciate Jackson Pollock work.

So, applying this model to writing, learning to create impressions deliberately, to alter moods with skill, to frame and craft everything as a function of your hand guiding the material rather than some external force influencing the ebb and flow of the fiction, or no force at all directing the lay of the words... these are the factors of the writing craft that will, at some point, bring a writer's skills into a new place, or into a new realm of refinement.

I've found a few books (oh no reading!!) specifically about the craft of writing that have been really useful in pointing toward the ultimate move toward deliberate creation.

...

Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft (Burroway, Stuckey-French, Stuckey-French)

This particular text has exceptional notes about sculpting fiction into something more refined, and makes a number of important points on the brick-and-mortar of the craft as well. Lovely in the book is the inclusion of specific examples from a number of stalwarts of Fiction. Though it is a "text book" in the traditional sense, I would say that it is well worth a read by any writer/author aspiring to be published.

...

Making Shapely Fiction (Stern)

This text is a fantastic tool for writers at varied points along their journey. I keep it around as a reference text, for that is how it approaches the craft of fiction, at least in one section - it takes common fiction terminologies and defines them in such a way that the definitions simultaneously provide direct information to the uninitiated while lending inspiration to the already informed. There are exercises which are useful as well, a general treatise on the process of writing, and considerations of common snags that writers have experienced. Again, a good reference for beginners or for seasoned scribes looking for a "back to basics" type of inspiration.

...

Hooked: Write Fiction That Grabs Readers at Page One & Never Lets Them Go (Edgerton)

Though I must confess that I have never read this book from cover to cover, I have personally picked up a number of good tips from it on beginnings, which, in terms of getting published, are so very damned important. Is it an essential text for everyone? Not necessarily, but if you have trouble building front-end hammers, you may find something of use here.

...

Of course, there are so many texts out there that proclaim they are an essential reference for the aspiring writer, but one might be wise to carefully select the texts to which they pay heed... even these ones I've listed can be overbearing to the writer who has yet to develop a personal direction. Read lightly, in other words, and love those tips that you find that sing to your spirit.

Remember, also, that the best education comes from simply doing the thing... write, submit, share, participate. Don't forget to read books by other authors, and read broadly (get out of your "genre"), and consider what you've read, and don't feel compelled to like every novel, short story, or poem you come across.

Also, there is so much more.

A quick link.

Another press release regarding Nota Bene, this one from my former school, mainly talking about the publication related to my work in it. I'm dodging saying "this one is about me" because I'm all modest and whatnot.

http://valenciacc.edu/news/news_detail.cfm?ArticleID=285

Learning to be quiet...

I'm learning to be quiet right now. It's harder than it sounds...

We are living in an increasingly techno-centric society, and are finding our attention divided into smaller, and smaller portions, with smaller and smaller amounts of time to devote to each portion. Workplaces are expecting higher and higher output while providing fewer and fewer opportunities for advancement, and raises.

Humanity is moving toward the brink of a system-wide nervous breakdown.

What are you doing to counteract it?

I'm learning to be quiet right now. It's harder than it sounds...

Especially when my cellphone keeps going off, and my computer is beeping at me, and the TV screens are telling me what to buy and watch and listen to and live for, and the radio is blaring at me. Our incredibly high concentration of communication is creating people who are unable to communicate, and we are, in essence, backsliding into the dark ages again.

What are you doing to counteract it?

I'm learning to be quiet right now. It's harder than it sounds...

"Multitasking" is one of the most egregiously terrible myths that has been perpetuated on society, and it is high time that people were aware that it is, in fact, impossible to multi-task. We simply rob from the quality of execution of one task with our poor, half-hearted efforts toward another. We're reducing our over all quality while doing more simultaneously. The entirety of the quality of work is reduced further as this myth continues to be spread as a buzzword throughout society, the job market, and the home life.

What are you doing to counteract it?

I'm learning to be quiet right now. It's harder than it sounds...

It involves taking the time to not have pressing tasks forcing one into slathering one's effort thinly across too large a canvas. It requires a devotion to being the best of what you are. It assumes a faith that you can thrive in the silence, and that your small inner voice, quieted by being daily shouted down by the adrenaline and energy drinks coursing through your veins, will learn to speak again.

What are you going to do about it?

I'm learning to be quiet right now. It's harder than it sounds.

The Link to the Press Release

Here's the Press Release for the 2009 edition of the Nota Bene Anthology:

http://www.ptk.org/news/pr/8906

There it is. I'm still jazzed.

Publishingsings

My first internationally published pieces are coming out before the end of the year. I just found out a week or so ago. They haven't officially announced it yet, so I'll not say where, but it is an academic journal that receives submissions from many places across the world and mainly ends up in College Libraries, and the like. Sure, it isn't a professional journal, but as a student still in my undergrad, that's an absolutely peachy opportunity as far as I'm concerned. Two of my pieces will be featured in there: "The Boxer" and "Uncle Benny," for which I was also given an award and scholarship.

Other than being published in my local/school literary magazine (Mosaic), and my journalistic stuff which has appeared in mainly local outlets, this is my first publication. I am excited. Ever since winning that award last year I have been waiting for an opportunity like this.

Here's to my work finding a larger audience so more people can be warped by my point of view. I'm laughing at this point. I'm laughing!

Tomorrow is my birthday... number 29. I'm still young, I suppose. I still feel young, I guess... or anyway I still feel green.

I'm applying to a few literary seminars/workshops in the near future, so keep your fingers crossed (or other superstitious signals of good wishes) for me if you read this.

Rollins has been excellent so far. I've got my first actual workshop on student work this evening... and I volunteered to be in the first batch. Here's hopin' for some good notes from my classmates!

For the love of reading.

Today marks the final day of "Reading Rainbow," a delightful show about reading books hosted by LeVar Burton.

A report on NPR this morning described how children's television programmers have fundamentally re-written the book on educational television shows related to reading. The new focus is simple - the mechanics: phonics, letters, etc.

My question is, what about the JOY of reading? We're ready to teach kids all about how to read, but not WHY to read. Is the point not enticing a future generation with one of the great human art forms, one of the necessities of life, one of the things that gives power to the people?

In an age when we are already seeing declines in recreational reading, business reading, and are seeing corresponding educational difficulties... why would we volunteer to neglect to demonstrate to children that reading is exciting? Have people already forgotten that movable type printing made it possible to communicate with each other in times of difficulty, and that reading was reserved before ONLY for the upper classes? It seems we are heading in that direction once again!

Of course, there must be some sort of response to this shameful course of action. Everyone who can, volunteer to read to children in some place - the local book store, daycare center, library, or community center. If no one shows a kid that reading is exciting, the chances of them discovering it on their own... are not so good.

I recall the community centers and libraries of my youth in New England. There were films, books, excitement... a place where a child would genuinely enjoy their time around books, and in books. We learned to love the written word not for the power it gave us, but for the places it took us. We had, always, a secret world at our fingertips... a secret power to travel wherever the words and our minds could take us. It is a joy we have NEVER forgotten, and whey I, personally, sit down to read today, I travel through those brambles to the mindscape within every single time.

We must help the next generation see the joy of stories.

The Writing Class

The Writing Class. Those with disposable time which we fill with recording our thoughts, creating witty anecdotes, etc. You'd know if you were a member.

Well, I started at Rollins. It seems like it will be an intellectually challenging environment. I am a little concerned that there is no devoted literary magazine published on campus, but I have some ideas about that. (Edit: Actually, there is!! Specs Journal, it's called. I'm totally gonna go volunteer).

Every once in a while, as I sit in one of those hot Florida classrooms, I think to myself "this is not New York," and get a little twinge of regret, but those might be getting smaller. It's just time to focus and learn as much as I can again... get to business, and bear in mind where I am going. Everything on the school front moves that direction.

Of course, there is a fundamental issue with the full-time work, full-time school scenario... and it isn't that I'll be too busy to do anything socially (I am terribly unsociable, or asocial if you will). I am concerned that as I delve further into English that my job, which juts out in another direction, will become less satisfying to me on a weekly basis. I suppose that's all up to me, ultimately.

My birthday is next month. I'll be 29. No laments there, I just need to keep working. I hate inspirational quotes, and typically think people who regurgitate "ancient parables" and "snippets of wisdom" sound like jackasses (with a very few exceptions), but it has been said that most people quit their efforts just before they break. I have no idea how long it will be before I experience any sort of break, or if I will experience some sort of break, but I am going to keep working like it is just over the next hill.

A few days in to classes and I'm filled with inspiration, hope, and... a little bit of fire.

As they say at Rollins, "Fiat Lux."

Indeed.

Where you're headed?

I have been meeting some phenomenal fiction critique-givers this semester. It's almost like they have an instant sense for what a piece needs to bump it up to another level... an instinct. So much good advice.

Each of them is, or has been at one time, a total moron when it comes to their own work.

I don't mean that in a derogatory sense. I mean that it is nearly impossible to apply the same cunning instinct that is normally applied to the critiquing process to one's own work... at first. I've seen it over and over again, especially with myself. I might spend a whole afternoon with my editing pencil out, crafting and reworking, only to have a massive restructuring suggested by my classmates... and find myself actually agreeing that it is the best course of action. Granted, I can't say that every workshop I've ever been in offered the same level of useful advice, nor would I say that I take every bit of advice offered in the most serious light... but the point is that I'm getting critique that I find useful from my classmates, and they seem to pull it out of thin air. And, I find that I am offering the same useful level of critique to them, possibly aiding them in shaping these pieces.

That's the power of a good workshop group.

I think that's the whole point of workshopping your pieces... not necessarily just to get advice on a specific piece, but to get closer to having that instant sense on your own work... to step away from it, look at it objectively, and be able to see the things you see in someone else's work... better organization, specific phrasing, the points you're making and how they might be more effective... these little details.

I'm not sure if other workshoppers would agree with me on this, but I feel very strongly that this is one of the most useful things I'm getting out of the process. I really am examining my own work differently now, taking it apart more, building it back up differently. Maybe it's coming out less awkwardly in the first place, too? Still, have to be careful to not be too careful when I'm there with the pen and the pad. Can't gum up those works... it has to come out after all.

I'm excited to move forward with the next few years of school. There is truly so much left to learn... but more importantly so much still to refine.

Hens that are French.

I don't know when it happened exactly, but I realized recently that I no longer believe in the power of cinema where the participation in its creation is concerned.

Hear me out.

First, I should say that this has not always been the case for me.

Second, I feel it is fair to note that I don't think this is a permanent state for my opinions.

In all the time I spent learning how to edit a film, I never considered that the screenwriters themselves were clumsy story tellers, or that screenwriting was a less-than-optimal format for story telling. All the evidence was there, of course, but my appreciation for the facts of the situation has come much later when I could appreciate the craft a bit better.

How can I take a film edit seriously when the storyteller themselves is unsure of the way to approach the storytelling? I'm essentially attempting to arrange a visual collage of an inexpert tale... essentially inventing story where none exists, smoothing the cracks, making the writer better than the writer, perhaps, is.

As I transition in another direction in my life, moving more toward storytelling, I am acutely aware of the fact that I will need to minimize the amount of time I spend mucking about in other peoples' stories.

Everything with New York fell apart. I've recounted the story so many times at this point that I don't really feel like completely unfolding all of the details here (imagine Bunny from Ed Wood describing his trip to Mexico... "Oh, that.").

The pertinent facts: It was expensive (many 10's of thousands of dollars), it was mostly unsubsidized (we're not in a financial bracket that necessitates much aid by way of Federally subsidized loans), the jobs were thin on the ground, the opportunity to take care of our property here in Florida was not there, and there were a bunch of other issues and things that could have become issues. So, anyway... we're here still and will be for the next few years.

I try not to have too many mantras, but one I definitely say... "one must buy with credit what one cannot afford with value." When I say I couldn't afford it, I realize I could have borrowed all of the money to make it happen. That's not affording it, though. I'm aware of the challenges in the publishing industry currently.

I'm all set up to continue my education here in town. I think things will work out nicely at the school I'll be at. There is a good program there, and I met the head of the program. We got along nicely, and he seems very dedicated to making his department a very unique and high quality place to learn.

What more could you ask for?

Of course, we had so many things aimed in the direction of New York, so there are some concerns... like we sold the wife's car, and were in the process of selling mine. The result? I'm giving her mine (which was the newer one) and figuring out alternative means of transportation. So far, Bicycle, and possibly scooter to supplement. We can get by with one vehicle. We have before. And getting by with essentially "1.5" is feasible.

I'm using this opportunity to fulfill a dream I've had for years... getting a Vespa. I considered a vintage one at first, then a used modern 2-stroke version, then a knock-off (identical copy) 2-stroke from Genuine Scooters (Stella)... and finally settled on an S150 modern 4-stroke. This is sensible for me, the price is right, and its cheaper than another car.

Kudos to blogs like Scooter in the Sticks for reassuring me that daily commuting is possible no matter where you live and what conditions you might be confronted with.

Making the best of things... and why not?

Rhodia, Psychologist.

I was thinking this morning, while driving to work, of a particularly embarrassing moment for me from my youth. We all have many such moments, I'm certain. This particular one was sports-related.

Anyway, I was wondering if seeing a psychologist would help lessen the impact of that embarrassment, that humiliation that still stings decades later. Isn't that what they do? Then again, I considered that my own coping mechanism, my writing, has probably saved me so much money on psycho-analysis. So in that sense, IT IS PAYING FOR ITSELF, HA HA HA. Papa tax-man would probably not appreciate my deducting Rhodia notebooks and fountain pen ink as "medical expenses" on my 1040 this coming year, though.

Finding different work is always such a gigantic pain in the neck. Sustaining one's self is the primary drain on that sustenance. We truly are locked in a never-ending cycle of self-preservation when we are the "working class."

Sloth Dynamics.

This morning I stopped off at my favorite breakfast fast-food joint for a bite since we were out of powerbars (not a good substitute, I know, but I went for it anyway). I ordered my food and the young man behind the counter went about placing the order and preparing parts of it within his sphere of influence. He asked me how my day was, and I said "Well, I'm awake and nearly to work, so I suppose successful so far." He smiled.

I looked down next to the counter sat a small, leather or leatherette bound book of similar size and shape to a bible, but with the Marine Corps logo stamped on it in gold. The lad came back with my food, and I asked, "Did you join up?"

"Yes sir," he said, "October."

"Congratulations," I said.

He must have known I was never in any branch of the service. I'm not tall enough, not steely enough. I don't have "the look" in me. My military contracting barely counts for anything except that I know what it is like to frustrate the Generals of the 9th Army, and how tough it can be to talk sense to a Navy man.

Two days ago the plans for the next few years of my life unfolded in front of me.

Let me explain a bit, since I've been so "not open" in my chronicles of seeking further education. Since I was nearing the end of my time at my current school in Florida, I decided, in the Fall, to busy myself with a head-start on my future education plans. I'm a fairly dedicated student, and am focused on achieving and learning each subject I set out to become educated in, and I have been successful in this particular leg of my education in doing that. Most people would probably say I'm being modest in assessing things thusly - I've had a number of academic distinctions, have served as an officer in an academic honors organization, and have maintained a perfect GPA for the past 3 part-time years of school.

Regardless, my targets for further education in my chosen field (big surprise, English) were some of our nations best schools. I applied to Cornell, Columbia, Oberlin, Brown, and Yale. Yale was certainly my main target, and it was not because of my distaste for the other schools... certainly Oberlin, Brown, and Columbia all had HIGHLY regarded English programs, perhaps more highly regarded in many circles than Yale's (especially Columbia's), but Yale had writers I wanted to learn from, and an enticing environment to study in. The fact that it was one of the "three" (Harvard and Princeton being the other two, neither of which is accepting transfer students this year for various reasons, Princeton because they never do, and Harvard because they find themselves without the space) did not dissuade me in any way.

I was fairly hopeful about my chances, having received a number of good recommendations from people I respect, and crafting my essays in a very specific manner. In the end, I was called in for an interview. In the program I applied to, only about 1 in 5 people were called in for an interview - the rest were essentially rejected. So, I flew up to New Haven to interview, and it went well, I thought. Of course, you know where this is going from my "I thought" comment. They eventually said no. About 1 in 3 of the interviewees were accepted and I was not one of them.

Meanwhile, throughout this process, I received rejections from Cornell, Oberlin, Brown, and acceptances to the local schools I applied to (University of Tampa, University of Central Florida) and some other schools I thought looked interesting (The New School in New York, and their Riggio Writing Fellowship), but most interestingly was a rather quick and enthusiastic acceptance to Columbia.

Granted, some people argue that the program I got into is fundamentally different than the one people get into as Freshmen, but I'm after educational quality, not status. Though I may be the product of prep schools, I'm clearly not "that" anymore. I am and will remain a property owner. I've got more to worry about than I did at 19, though I so infrequently am relieved of that worry anymore. It fuels me to some degree, I suppose. Regardless, I'm heading to New York. We shall all clasp hands in glory by and by.

Our trip to the keys was impressive. We camped, we drove, we kayaked, ate fantastic pizza at the No Name Pub, visited Hemingway's house and his aloof descendants of his cats, saw a former Navy ship that was headed to the bottom about 6 miles offshore to become a reef soon (it has now been scuttled, coincidentally, the USS General Dwight Vandenburg, I believe was its name). There are so many more details and pictures, but I'll let those be elsewhere for the time being.

I didn't post in May. I did, though, graduate from a school in May. There's also a story behind that.

Yes, I am writing. I'm working on the book again. Shh, that's a secret.

Fortunes.

I just had the fortune of hearing an interesting talk about a prominent media figure, and the talk focused on how he knew no other way than to inexhaustibly seek opportunities.

What a phenomenal lesson to take to heart, I think. I'm not really afraid of having nothing because I've had it before. I'm hopeful, but I'm not really afraid because when you have nothing you also have nothing to lose, and what power there is in that.

The wife and I are going camping in the Florida Keys in a few weeks to celebrate a milestone birthday, and my graduation from my current school (which will take place a few days before). I've spoken of all my intimidation about the ins and outs of whos and whats, etc. on into infinity, but I can feel myself becoming the arrow again.

I become the arrow sometimes. The arrow points in one direction, flies straight, and hits a target. I last became the arrow when we were attempting to buy a house. Before that when I was looking for work that wasn't waiting tables at Denny's, an experience I should have included in my college application in retrospect. I became the arrow before that when planning my move to Florida, and maybe only once before when I was attempting to get my grades up high enough to get an insurance discount for my folks when I was getting my driver's license.

When I am the arrow I am high strung, and ready to be released, from where I will swiftly fly.

We'll know my target soon enough.

Let's talk about the weather?

The chance of precipitation today is 10%. It feels higher, and I have my raincoat behind me because it feels higher and I distrust meteorologists DEEPLY because I recently found out they don't actually study meteors to discover the secrets of the weather.

The answer is not in the stars, it seems... well, at least not to this question.

I was thinking recently about opening a store. Not seriously, just the theory behind it. Who wouldn't enjoy connecting people with the things that fascinate them, right?

My store would sell:
- Raincoats (nice ones) and other Jackets (A-2 Leather jackets, for instance, and a full line of Helly Hansen products)
- Fountain Pens and nice stationary/journals/notebooks/inks
- Interesting small-brand Sunglasses
- Watches
- Literary Magazines
- Classy hats in a number of price ranges
- A rotating stock of unique electronic gadgetry
- A variety of pocket knives/multi-tools
- Sweaters and Scarves
- Imported Tea
- Aluminum drinking vessels (a wide variety)
- Small luggage items
- A limited stock (and I mean LIMITED) of used DVDs and records

Then, I would sell the store to someone else so I could be uninvolved in operating this store (I'm far too busy to be operating a boutique at the moment), and would begin shopping there. Perfect.

Mostly I want those items in a boutique because I can't seem to locate the items consistently locally.

Amazon.com will have to suffice in the meantime, I guess.

Am I writing currently? Yes. One of my pieces is currently on "second round" consideration at a literary journal, also. I'm crossing my fingers, friends.

Grows on the wall?

Well, hi.

It's been an interesting few weeks, for certain. I've begun to hear from schools regarding admission, and I've plowed through stacks of paperwork that had to be handled regarding admission, and I'm just waiting to decide where to go.

Really, this process feels like running headlong at a wall. In many ways it seems like the "wrong" time to move, but on the other hand, it seems like when the common consensus is that it's the "wrong" time, someone else has figured out that it's actually the absolute "right" time.

I've heard back from one school already, but I'm maintaining a little secrecy at the moment. Perhaps I'll write a full note about the ins/outs of the situation when everything is settled, but for now still biding my time.

I was thinking, though, this morning about the Ivies. They've got a perilous situation on their hands right now, and it is difficult to interpret how they will handle it.

Certainly there has been a variety of Animosity toward our nations "top universities" in the past few years - hundreds, possibly thousands of voices ringing out with cries against the Ivy League's stranglehold on the image of quality education, noting that one might receive as good a body of knowledge from nearly any decent private University, and many of the top State Schools. This cannot have hurt their admission totals, but it has made the general populous shift their focus on the Ivy League schools from absolute admiration to casual dismissal and possible venomous objection.

I'm wondering how they're going to handle their acceptances for this fall. Consider that an increased percentage of "accepted but declining admission" students is entirely possible, maybe even likely this year. After all, despite their needs-blind admission (for the most part), moving out of state, away from family, incurring any expense may not be feasible for the average student right at this moment, despite the desire to at least test one's mettle where the Ivies are concerned. How shall they react to this knowledge? Widen the acceptance pool a bit to guarantee numbers are up? Ride out the storm with smaller enrollment and the promise of recovery in a few years? Accept even fewer people in hopes of an intentionally smaller student body in order to cut costs?

I'm curious. I mean, I'm realistic about my chances with some of these schools (specifically the ones that only accept, say, 7-15 transfer students per year), but I'm pretty confident that my application is strong and will be something for them to consider.

In other completely unrelated news, I am working on getting an Ex Libris for my books (both the ones I own, and, actually, the one's I write - I like the idea that my written works are, first and foremost, items from my library). I like the idea of bookplates a lot, and designed one for myself, but am not exactly skilled with penciling my visual ideas (I can get the job done, but the result is nothing stunning)... so I'm waiting to see if an opportunity to have it re-illustrated pops up. We'll see.

More as more things develop.

Wait until a star breaks through (funny)

I just tossed out about 10 submissions over the past 48 hours. I was looking at my submission list and realized that I hadn't made any in about 3 months or so. A few rejections were trickling in from ones I made back in November/December, so I decided to get a few more out. I'm not really expecting any results just at the moment, but I have to keep things on the cycle. Finding homes for these stories makes me feel like a caseworker in child services.

There was an interesting news item being discussed on NPR the other day (yes, I listen to NPR) about a man who had lost his eye long ago, and had since become a film-maker, and was currently working with technologists to invent an in-eye camera that he could fit where his prosthetic normally would be. In this way, he planned on making a documentary feature. The NPR correspondent asked him the requisite questions about privacy, voyeurism, legality, etc., and he made a rather brilliant point - we are the worst invaders of our own privacy these days. Blogging, twittering, facebook status updating - these things air our private thoughts to an audience, sometimes a context-less anonymous audience. Is this healthy?

As a writer, I think, perhaps, that sharing too many of these inner thoughts without context is not healthy... at least the twitter/facebook 250-words-or-less variety. The temptation with these sites is to update constantly, lighting up every witty or useful thought we have during the day. That sort of mental exposure is unprecedented... and it is difficult for me to see an sensory difference between obsessively updating twitter and publishing pictures of one's own genitalia. Perhaps in society-at-large we are not terribly far removed from a day when that becomes a reasonable activity as well?

Constructing thoughts in the blog format is not terribly unhealthy for those that are scatterbrains and use these things to collect/condense a set of ideas.

Where are we moving as a society, if we take this story into consideration and use it as a fulcrum point? Increased frequency of voluntary body modifications? Voluntary prosthetic work? Digital enhancements? Injecting ourselves more and more into the "web" realm?

We are perhaps moving toward a meta-life. That's the difficult thing about acceleration in society... you can never tell the shape the world will take next in light of the changes. Historical record might indicate that it will not change all that much, but walking a mile in the shoes of people who passed on long before I, or even my parents were born might indicate that within my own lifetime I may cease to recognize the shape of the world around me. Perhaps that is what it feels like to be elderly. Perhaps that is why the aged surround themselves with the familiar and reject the changed.

Will our enhanced ability to adapt and consume, bred into us by living in a time of massive "buy-culture" and "gadget-boom," save us from a similar fate?

New Traditions!

I forgot to post anything in January... or perhaps I was too busy?

I think it was the busy-thing.

School grinds on, and I am currently directly in the center of preparing my college application materials for submission by March 1st (though I am aiming to have them completed by February 23rd - not much time now!).

This is pretty stressful, but at this point I just want to get these applications out there and find out which of these schools wants to accept me, give me money, etc.

There's a lot riding on these applications - whether I'll remain in this area, for one, in my job and house and all of that stuff. Part of me, the dreamer part, hopes that I'll be on my way to a different area really really soon, but the "adult" part that thinks about things like checking accounts and buying nutritious food, etc., says "the economy is bad, your job is decent, there are schools around here that will probably give you a full/almost full scholarship" and I'm concerned that the voice I listen to here is going to be the one I'm stuck living with from here on out... but, I mean, that's not realistic.

I've had a difficult time buckling down to write, except for some pretty pained/passionate sessions over a bizarre soft sci-fi piece I was working on for a while. I've been reverting to my other forms of expression and inspiration that help me when I'm in one of these slumps - playing my guitar and whistle, listening to albums I like, watching soccer games, things like that, transcribing stuff I wrote a while back into Scrivener. I'll clear this funk soon. There's a lot I want to get done at the moment and it'll brim over eventually.

Short post, sorry. Have a bunch of stuff to do today.

'Twas the Night Before the Night Before Christmas

And all through the house not a creature was stirring... except me and my laptop, and somewhere outside my house is a train going by off in the distance (not too far, though - like the middle distance), and my noisy neighbors having what is undoubtedly their 7th party in 4 days (they sound tired, though determinedly noisy), and all the other creatures, including the fuzzy feline variety, inside my house are doing anything but stirring at the moment. One seems to be snoring.

I'm awake, though. Dammit.

I'm spending this week's few days at the office topping up a certification for my job. Then I'm taking some days off, and then it will be the new year, and then I'll be back in school, and then all of my transfer applications will be due, and then I'll know who "accepts me" and will know my options, and then I'll be able to make a decision that is going to affect this rather whimsical career path I've embarked on after years of fiddling around with other options.

Can you see why I'm up late?

I keep arriving at these "crossings" and they always seem like such a big damned deal when I'm there at them, trying to make a sensible decision, and in retrospect they always look like the tiniest pittances of decisions. I can't throw decisions away anymore, though, because the wrong one will possibly consume a decade of your life without explanation or even you realizing it, really... or worse, and I can't fathom worse because consuming a decade is bad enough.

This evening Lesley asked me what consumes my mind these days, and I gave her a running commentary that slurred on for a good 3 minutes of non-stop banter... and in sorting it all out, actually, I've got an excessive pile of junk on my mind. I need to get that handled.

I'm getting a handle on my health situation, though. The kinesiologist I'm seeing currently has helped me identify, using his sciences, my particular issue... and more importantly the cause of my particular issue, and possibly even more importantly, a plan toward a solution that does not involve simple treatment of symptoms, but genuine healing.

One question remains in my mind, though... how does one drink a toast to their liver?

Probably with beet juice or something, because heaven help me it shall be a while before I have my beloved beer or favorite whiskey again.

Can you see why I'm up late?

Winter, yeah.

Winter in Florida. I still feel hot, mostly because the heat is always cranked up inordinately, compensating in these first few cold weeks. Floridians can't handle the sub-70 days.

Short story ideas remind me of (*gasp*) Sexual Arousal. The idea arrives, and the act of writing, scratching the itch as it were, is at the option of the writer. I file most away for later, myself, in notebooks, which probably means something in this analogy also.

The semester is ending. I need a break. This semester wasn't academically difficult, I was just really occupied by far too much stuff. Next semester is my last at my current school, theoretically.

Watching the re-broadcast of the Manchester United / Sunderland game from earlier today. Good play..... for the most part. Ferdinand v. Ferdinand (PS what a game, and also, the Villa/Toffees game was killer too - dramatic!)

A few more thoughts. First, there is a section in the book store that contains chairs that are mostly used by homeless people. What is it about the bookstore that attracts the homeless? Is it the casual "browse and sip" atmosphere mixed with the absence of authoritative managers harassing them to buy or leave? Sounds likely.

Finally, a thought on the holiday season. The "Home Sushi Kit" is officially the new "Fondue Set" in that it is likely to be looked at with a forced, crooked smile when unwrapped, stored in a cupboard for roughly two years, then moved to a closet, then the attic. Then, five years later, it will somehow survive the decision about what to take over to the local Goodwill, will be opened, and terrible, floppy, poorly shaped sushi will be crafted clumsily and inexpertly, and then the damned thing will get tossed once and for all.

Yours is on the way. Merry Christmas.

Can't afford it!

A friend told me today that the utilities company is going to cut the power to his business this coming week.

"The Economy"

We live in pretty cruddy times I suppose. There's a war that people seem to either hate or believe we're morally obligated to. We're politically divided and filled with animosity. People are either losing their jobs or thinking about what would happen if they did, and that slows everything down. Now, our finances haven't been directly affected yet, but I've noticed recently that every time I whip out the ol' debit card, it hurts a little to spend that dollar. I think I'm actually spending less as a result of it.

So, while the wife is out of town, I've been thinking about life. It is a little terrifying to consider selling an affordable house on which I have a fixed rate mortgage and a decent amount of equity, moving to a new state, and essentially starting out on a new career. I am terrified. I've said it twice for emphasis.

Of course I realize that this is where it happens, here on the edge. You have to take a risk or two, even if the poor-house is probable. If there is one thing I always forget, it is that I'm resourceful. We've been to the crap-farm before, Les and I, and we kept it together. They weren't the best of times, but we kept it together. We'll keep keeping it together, I suspect.

I have to keep remembering - this is for school. I believe in education. I believe that educated people have a better chance at the careers they want instead of the jobs they fall into. I believe that becoming educated is a fulfilling experience. I also believe that cowardly actions don't lead to anything positive, and recognize the difference between cowardice and irresponsibility.

The good news is, I'm still young. So, staying here seems cowardly. Maybe if we had a kid or something it would be different, but we don't and have no plans to... and, actually, come to think of it, having kids never seemed to deter my parents in any serious manner from moving (and, honestly, I have to say that consistent movement helped forge the personality I have today, so no complaints from me at this point... or back then, really).

I revert, in times like these, to a few rules - channel my unstoppable shopaholism into things that are useful and long-lasting (sensible coat, decent watch, good books - the stuff every guy needs), quit eating out by succumbing to my natural mistrust of every other living human, and just being smart about stuff. Keep the cars running, keep the card payments down, all of that stuff.

School is going well this semester. I signed up for my classes for spring, also. My mythology class takes place in... Second Life. I'm not a huge fan of Second Life, to be honest, but it is an interesting idea and if the system manages not to get in the way of learning (I suspect there will be some WebCT components as well) I'm game to try it. Hopefully the strange folks who seem drawn to a recourse-free virtual existence will leave us alone during class.

Quick question: How do people have time to play video games? Seriously.