If you started a sports team, what would the colors and mascot be?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
As a child, I remember watching baseball on television with my mother. I didn’t understand what I was watching, but I enjoyed my mother’s excitement as she watched her beloved “Cubbies.” However, the idea of playing the sport never really stuck. I played softball for a while but lost interest. I still enjoy watching the games when I have time to catch them. So, when I read this prompt, I knew I had to write a baseball story of sorts.
Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus
Rico Strong’s Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus Baseball Team
Once upon a time, a man named Rico Strong lived in a small town called Willowville. Rico was known far and wide for his extraordinary talent in training animals. He had a special connection with ferrets and platypuses and a dream – to create a baseball team like no other. But not just any baseball team; Rico wanted to form a team with pink ferrets and an angry platypus.
Rico had always been fascinated by the agility and quickness of ferrets. He believed their instincts and nimbleness would make them perfect for the outfield. As for the platypus, Rico had observed their fierce determination and strong-willed nature, which he thought would be ideal for a powerful pitcher. It was a crazy idea, but Rico was determined to make it a reality.
He traveled far and wide, scouring the world for pink ferrets and an angry platypus. He visited rainforests, deserts, and even remote islands in search of these unique creatures. He encountered countless challenges along his journey, but Rico’s determination never wavered. He faced treacherous terrains, wild animals, and even unexpected weather but pressed on, fueled by his unwavering passion.
Finally, after months of searching, Rico found what he was looking for. In a hidden valley deep within the mountains, he discovered a group of pink ferrets with shimmering fur. They were playful, agile, and had an undeniable charm. Rico knew he had struck gold with these ferrets. But his journey wasn’t over yet. Rico had heard rumors of an angry platypus living in a far-off swamp. Determined not to give up, he ventured into the swamp despite the warnings of its dangers. And there, in a murky pond, Rico found the angry platypus. It was bigger and fiercer than he had imagined, with venomous spurs and a fiery gaze. Rico knew he had found the missing piece of his team.
With his team of pink ferrets and the angry platypus, Rico set out to fulfill his dream. He built a baseball field in Willowville with state-of-the-art facilities and a cheering crowd. Word quickly spread about his unique team, and people from all over came to watch the Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus play. The team’s agility, speed, and determination were unmatched, making them a force to be reckoned with.
As the team played their games, they faced many challenges. They encountered teams with stronger hitters, faster runners, and more experienced pitchers. But Rico’s team had something special – their unbreakable bond and unwavering spirit. They supported each other, cheered on, and never gave up.
The Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus became the talk of the town with their incredible plays and electrifying performances. They won game after game, leaving their opponents in awe. Rico’s unique team captured the hearts of the locals and, media and baseball enthusiasts worldwide.
Ultimately, the Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus became more than just a baseball team. They symbolized courage, unity, and the power of following one’s dreams. Rico Strong’s extraordinary vision had turned a seemingly crazy idea into a remarkable reality.
And so, the legacy of the Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus baseball team lived on, inspiring generations to come. Their story was passed down from one baseball fan to another, reminding everyone that anything is possible with passion, determination, and a little imagination. The team’s success paved the way for more unconventional and innovative approaches in sports, proving that sometimes, the most extraordinary things can come from the most unexpected places.
The Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus left a lasting impact on the baseball world, forever etching their names in the annals of sports history. Their remarkable journey was a testament to the power of teamwork, dedication, and belief in the impossible. Rico Strong’s dream had not only come true but had exceeded all expectations, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of all who witnessed their extraordinary feats.
The short answer is NO. However, as I have gotten older and gained more experience, I better understand some of the motives. Politics is in almost every aspect of life. I would love to say, “I don’t do politics,” as I have said on several occasions, but that would be incorrect. What I mean is I prefer a straightforward approach to things. This way, one knows where they stand in a given situation. However, that’s not how things work, is it? There seems to be some hidden agenda.
In an earlier post, I discussed my dream cars, so in this response, I’ll talk about my favorite vehicle I have owned. I’ve owned several cars over the years. My first pickup truck was a 1969 Ford F-100. She was called ”The Gypsy” and was the ugliest vehicle I ever owned. However, she ran like a dream. I missed that ole’ girl.
Although I have been writing and drawing since I was a kid, I never really considered myself to be creative. This isn’t because I wasn’t encouraged or anything like that. It’s partly because I was surrounded by very talented people. I just didn’t consider my work good enough to make the cut.
I suppose another issue is I never found a particular style I excelled in. I enjoy writing every genre. It’s nothing better than getting an idea down on paper and seeing where it goes. Sometimes, that’s no further than a notation in a notebook or scribbled on a scrap of paper.
Lately, my friends have been expressing in my photography. I have to admit I enjoy capturing the images and seeing what stories they tell me. Yet, recently, I have been discovering the stories within themselves.
I must say I’m lucky. I get to tell stories by writing, photos, or film. Every now and then, I get combine all three. It’s special when things work out that way. When writing a screenplay, I must rely on imagery to get it done. This can be a challenge for a narrative fiction writer.
This is where the photography comes into play. I can capture images and use them as templates of the world I’m trying to create. This can be done with a video camera, but sometimes, the stills just work better for me.
Often, I sketch ideas and then try to find them in the real world. Well, I guess I’ve babbled enough for you to get the idea.
What are your favorite physical activities or exercises?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
There is nothing like taking a walk. I would add cigarettes and coffee to the mi, but that would only dimish the benefits. I was poor as a child, we had two ways to get anywhere; walking or riding your bike. In some cases, you ended up doing both. So I learned early to enjoy the journey. To freely allow the thoughts in my head to run wild. No one there sticking their opinion mudding up the process.
Even now, I walk with headphones on. The music provides a blanket shielding me from the outside. I hear my thoughts exhale, clear their throats, and call the rest of my body to order. My arms and legs are moving in unison to a subconscious rhythm. Yet, I realize my breathing is setting the tempo. My thoughts and ideas line up to me counted.
Next, I exclaim, not looking up at the next idea waiting to have their say.
“Good day, Mr. Khan”
“Good day.” I reply, waiting for them to get on with it. They take a moment to gather themselves to ensure not to waste my time. I’m thankful for the gesture actually. I can’t count the numerous times progress has been striflield by a ridiculous idea.
‘“Well get on with it,” I nudge.
“You see Sir, I been thinking the story needs a bit of restructuring.” Idea stated.
“How so?” I questioned. The idea went on to explain its opinion in great deal. I have to admit I like the idea. But I couldn’t let this go unchallenged. It was the principle of the thing. I can’t be having ideas rushing up to me at hours of the night thinking they’re to get their say. The other day I saw a wanna-be Picasso paint his cat pink.
Uncle Willie told me a story about a fella who had an idea to impress a woman. We all know the lengths men go to impress women. It’s ridiculous the things we come up with. Well this fella, got the idea that the women of his dreams was worth it. He met her at the local bowling alley. The story goes, she liked him well enough, but she always wanted to see what a kangaroo looked like up close. For months, they’d meet at the bowling alley and talk, but she kept bringing up the kangaroo thing. Finally, the fella invited her to fly with him to Australia to see a kangaroo. Her reply was that she didn’t know him well enough to go on a trip like that. What kind of woman did he think she was?
Cedric, the fella, was determined to have Gretchen, the woman, by any means necessary. So, he contacted a navy buddy who owed him a favor and got a damn kangaroo. Christmas Day 1966, when the bowling alley was closed, arranged for the place to open and convinced Gretchen to meet him there. So, Gretchen’s Christmas present was a kangaroo, named Rocky. Of course, Gretchen didn’t have any place to keep Rocky, so he lived with Cedric. Christmas 1967, they were married. The marriage lasted five years. Gretchen got the house and Rocky in the settlement. I know this may be hard to believe, but here is a photo from the day Gretchen and Rocky met.
Aunt Willie, on my father’s side, a bit touched if you listen to Nana. Despite this, Aunt Willie, was the most successful pig farmer in the state. A winter’s back, Aunt Willie got a notion that Charlene and Jessup, her pet pigs didn’t want to spend the winter in the cold. So, she pack them up and took them to the beach. The local took exception to the pigs at the beach and made a big ruckus. However, Aunt Willie was to snap a picture of Charlene and Jessup before things got out of hand.
I have to admit I’m a bit jealous, they look rather peaceful.
There’s nothing like a good stroll to clear your mind and you get a little exercise to boot.
I’ve been pretty fortunate in my life, for the most part. I’ve done a great deal of traveling in my lifetime. I found myself in places I didn’t know existed and places I thought you only read about in travel books that lay on the coffee tables of most of my friend’s living rooms. I remember several mothers sitting in their chairs, thumbing through the magazines, sporadically mentioning something that caught their eye. Honestly, I never imagined leaving the state, let alone leaving the country.
Despite my travels, there are a few cities I wouldn’t mind visiting. Crete, Milan, and Sydney.
While I was stationed in Korea, a few friends of mine got the notion that we wanted to spend Christmas in Australia. This is the same crew that participated in the high jinxes of I Got Drunk in Korea and Woke Up in Japan. Not familiar with that story? Click here. Now, we intended to have a relatively tame experience in comparison to the previously mentioned adventure, but no fun is for suckers. At least, that was the favorite saying of one of the members of the crew.
The unit we assigned was constantly on alert status. So, I was on call 70 percent of the time I was there. Another specialist was assigned to the unit about a couple of months before the holidays, and he finally had enough training to take a shift. This meant I got a much needed break. My plans were to drink and drink some more. I had never been one to plan anything special. I just kind of went with the flow. The crew suggested the Australia trip. I thought about it and responded with why not. We didn’t have much money, so we couldn’t afford plane tickets. This is where I came in. I was the idea guy. So I made a call, and there was a Hop over to Australia.
I couldn’t believe it. Christmas in Sydney. I got all excited, so the fever had got to us all. We put in for passes and packed our bags. We rode the bus as far south as possible, then took a cab. There we were at the airport, congratulating one another. The only problem was on a Hop it was space available. You could get bumped for several reasons. So, we sat anxiously waiting to see if we could catch the flight. One of the guys flirted with a female Airmen, and she assured us we would be good to go. I wasn’t paying it, but who knows it might work out.
As it turned out, the Airmen was true to her word; we got seats. We were heading to the plane and heard an announcement over the intercom. I didn’t hear what was said initially, but the guys grabbed me and said come on. The announcement had called for us by name, which only meant one thing: our unit was on alert. So, the plan was to pretend we didn’t hear the announcement and get on the flight. We could deal with any punishment when we got back, So we hid and waited for an opening to board the plane.
The opening we had been waiting for had finally arrived. We were making our move towards the plane when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“You gonna make me chase you, soldier?”
Sydney was 100 feet away. I could make it. However, I turned around to look into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women I had seen. I tried not to react, but apparently, my expression gave me away.
The MP sergeant stepped to me and said softly,” Let me guess, you think I’m cute and don’t take me seriously?” I swallowed and presumed the position of parade rest. Three extremely large MPs joined her, bearing no-nonsense expressions. She studied me momentarily with her emerald eyes and then nodded.
“Follow us, soldiers,” she ordered.
She and another soldier drove us back to our unit. Defeated, we exited the van and were met by our boss. He looked relieved at the sight of us, which meant things were bad. I turned to look back at the van and gazed right into the eyes of the Sergeant again. We held each other gaze momentarily, and then they drove off. For the next three days, I didn’t sleep. I worked on what seemed like every system we had. The chatter was they would strike us from multiple fronts, but it turned out to be nothing but smoke.
I finally made it to my rack late in the morning, Christmas day. The scratchy wool blanket and worn out pillow never felt so good.
“Wiz….Wiz!” my boss woke me from my coma. “Step lively … free booze,” he continued. I jumped into a pair of jeans and a sweater. We got the NCO Club, and there was an amazing spread. The crew was already there slipping on wine. I instantly perked up. It was a lovely dinner, and after a couple, only a few of us left drinking and telling stories. Then I heard a familiar soft voice.
“May we join you?” the voice asked, I looked up into the eyes of the MP sergeant. She had three other women with her. “These are my friends; I hope you don’t mind?” she asked. I looked at my friends, who were grinning like schoolboys. I nodded, and they all sat down. Each of them took their pick. The sergeant sat next to me.
“I’m Fiona, and you are?” she asked, smiling. She knew exactly who I was. We chuckled and enjoyed the rest of the night with our friends.
It wasn’t Sydney, but that Christmas turned out okay.
Have you ever performed on stage or given a speech?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
I’ve given speeches and lectures several times during my adulthood. However, I’ve been a victim of stage fright. Yet, I’ve done so many of them you couldn’t tell. However, I’ve only performed on stage once.
My stage debut was in a musical called Let George Do It. My teacher came into the class and told us we would perform a musical for the whole school. I didn’t understand what that really meant, but I listened. I can’t remember how this happened, but I ended up with the lead part of George Washington. Of course, since this was a musical, the lead role required me to sing. I didn’t sing then, and I don’t sing now. However, I figured my refusal to sing would indeed send me to the back, where I could pretend to sing along. As it turned out, my teacher had other ideas.
She decided I speak all the parts of the lead role. I was terrified, but somehow I got through it. Unbeknownst to her, this brilliant move launched my public speaking career. I’m indebted to her for that. It has served me well over the years. Thanks teach.
I would like to think I’m a decent judge of character overall. However, there have been occasions over the years where I have been hoodwinked. I’m sure most you may have experienced this phenomenon and probably don’t like it anymore than I do.
Because of being hoodwinked in the past, I’m not as trusting of people as I had in the past. Despite this, I try to keep an open mind. I have found that there are times when I have been surprised by people. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.
People are going to be who they are. I just hope I’m not hoodwinked.
I watched so many cartoons as a child I can’t remember them all. Of course, the classics like Scrooby-Do and Bugs Bunny. However, there was one cartoon that appeared later. GI-Joe ended up being my jam. It might have sparked from having the action figure GI Joe with the kung-fu grip. Whatever the reason, I enjoyed every episode I was able to catch. What’s cool is that YouTube has all the episodes.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
This isn’t a hard question for me. I would love to live somewhere in the woods. As long as I had wifi. The first places that come to mind are Montana & Wyoming. I spent time in both of these places and I loved it.
I’ve never really paid attention to the things I wear once I became an adult. I’ve found I’m most comfortable in pair of Dickies pants, a good boot, and a ball cap. Yeah, this prompt doesn’t require a lot of thought.
As a child, I developed a fondness for spending time in the parks. I would ride my bike to the different parks in my hometown. Each time I relocate, I drive around the new location to find the parks in the area. I search the surrounding areas for national parks, wildlife refuges, or reserves. I loved spending time in nature. It helps me to clear my head. I’ve written some of my best story ideas in these places. One of the reasons I love my iPad.
So, I take my trusty Nikon and cell as a backup to capture the glimpses of the world that usually only reside in our memories that fade over time. From time to time, they appear in fragments that invoke smiles whose warmth melts away the grime.
Shot during the early days of COVID-19
Seagulls in a local State Park
I like this little fishy
I love to combine challenges, so I took the opportunity to participate in a challenge I came across earlier this month. Here is my entry for XingfuMama’s Pull Up a Seat Challenge
I had to think a moment before answering this prompt. There are several months of the year that hold a special place.
November is special because it’s officially sweater season, and my sweater game is ridiculous. Early April is nice. It’s the beginning of planting season. I love digging in Spring dirt, hoping something magical will occur in a few weeks.
Typically, I read several books at once. However, lately, I’ve slowed down quite a bit. Over the last few months, I’ve been reading one at a time. This month, I’ve been reading crime noir novels. One of the best crime writers in the business is James Ellroy. He created a series called the L.A. Quartet. I wasn’t aware of this before I started reading L.A. Confidential.
This book is a solid read so far. I will write a complete of the book upon finishing it. Yep, I’m feeling another installment of the Knucklehead Report.
If I’ve learned anything as of late, it is life is the uncertainty of life. However, if things go as planned, I will be retired in decent health. Decent health because good health left a few years back. It didn’t even leave a note. I think I feel some sort of way about the whole affair. Often, I wonder what I will do with myself during retirement. The short answer is … Whatever I want.
First, I will buy a support truck filled with motorcycle parts. I will be the last to retire, and we plan to drive the historic Route 66 on motorcycles. My job at this point is to drive the support vehicle to handle any maintenance issues that may arise. All of us are former mechanics, so no worries about being able to handle any issues that may occur.
Next, I will ensure all camera equipment is ready to document the trip. This list includes video camera, DSLR, dash cam, and spares of all the accessories. I will bring plenty of notebooks to record my rants. It’s sacrilege to have a good rant go undocumented. I will also include an iPad and laptop for those lazy days. Well, that’s the plan anyway.
The first time I noticed my iPad notifying me about my screen time usage was disturbing. I didn’t know it was a thing until that point. I wondered why it tracked this information and what it would do with it. So, instantly, I pulled out my journal and started hashing out theories about what “The Man” would do with this information. Tracking my screen time, what? They better get out of here with that mess.
Of course, I was in a full PTSD episode, and my paranoia was out of control. Despite this, I took steps to limit my screen time. I still use most of them.
I manage my screen time the old fashion way. I pick up a book. I have no problem getting lost in a story of another design. However, if I’m working on a story or an idea for an article, I write down things down in a journal. I practice stream of consciousness writing. This exercise frees me from the confides of my mind. It allows me to forget about time and distractions. I usually have a audiobook playing in the background. Interesting enough, research suggests that visual reading and audiobooks stimulate the same region of the brain. Crazy, I know.
Listening to audiobooks for me took some getting used to. I found myself getting distracted. However, over time I use as an exercise in active listening. Well that’s it. That’s all of it.
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE – CREATIVE NON-FICTION/FICTION – MAYBE A LITTLE OF BOTH
I could lie here, but I won’t. I could spin a fantastic but believable yarn about something that has nothing to do with the question. I’m a fiction writer; it’s what I do. You know, it’s my jam. One might even say it was my birthright. There are several writers in my family and all. I love learning. But school? I needed that like I needed another hole in my head. So, like any other flagrantly bored kid, I became a miscreant. A chatterbox, class clown, or any other thing I could think of that keeps me entertained. I considered my antics to be my responsibility to keep things lively. Until one day, my actions had reached their limit.
My mother tried to call my father, his secretary, a battle-axe of the highest order, my father’s description, not mine. I was too young to know what battle-axe meant and refused to disturb dear ole’ pop. So, my mother hung up the phone. By her expression, trouble was afoot. When my father came home, I was dismissed from the room. My mother started in on my father before he read his newspaper, a cardinal sin. Ticking off my mother, however, was a deadly sin. As I listened through the vent, I heard my mother go into lurid detail about her dissatisfaction.
There might have been flames. I couldn’t be sure. Once, during a bedtime story, Mother confessed to being part dragon.
Father: But…But … But … I can explain.
By the sound of his voice, it was apparent my father was miserable. I remember being scolded by my mother, and it wasn’t anywhere close to the level of what I heard. I felt miserable.
Afterward, Father came into my room and gave me the look. You know, the one parents give their children that lets the child know whatever reason they are showing that look stops now. Then he followed it with the look that only evolves in the following.
Action One: The head immediately drops down and avoids eye contact.
Action Two: Shoulders droop with the execution of a defeated sigh. There is a slight hesitation between the droop and the sigh. Timing is everything.
Action Three: The Apology
This is the most crucial of the actions. Execution is paramount. One could have nailed the first two actions, but bugger the third. It’s over. Here are a few suggestions I have witnessed and used in the past.
Pleading eyes – crucial
The swallow – a hard swallow after the pleading eyes, masterful
The acknowledgment – a simple “Yes sir or ma’am” executed in the proper tone; genius
The Apology – This must be nailed with an adequate amount of sincerity and remorse. I cannot stress the importance of this enough. Watery eyes or tears are allowed, even if you are a boy. We have to do what is necessary. There is no shame in it.
Now, my father stood there looking at me strangely. I knew my execution was flawless. Yet, I wondered why he hadn’t left the room. I had to resist the temptation to speak. It might ruin the effectiveness of my performance. Finally, he said.
“You know,” he started. We are aware that nothing good comes from sentences starting off like that. I attempted to settle as I thought, “Oh Boy!”
“When I was young, I always wanted a knucklehead son and look a knucklehead!” he said, gesturing towards me. He turned and headed out of the room.
“You know,” he said. There’s that phrase again.
“The apology was good. Very good, if I’m being honest. I almost bought it. Your timing was off. You’ll have to step up your game to fool your mother.” he finished and walked the room.
I never did fool my mother. I think my father derived a bit of pleasure from watching me try. In the present, I can say that English was my favorite subject. I used it to become a decent storyteller. I enjoy putting words together like a puzzle.
I’d like to thank Cyranny’s Cove for doing us the courtesy of providing inspiring words that shaped this story. If you haven’t checked out the site, get over there.
I hope you enjoyed today’s story. Trying to make the words fit the story in my head was hard. But I had a blast.
What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
As a child, I could be classified as strange or weird. I spent a great deal of time alone riding my bike or sitting by the lake staring at nothing. One day, I noticed a radio on bench. I waited all day for someone to come back for it. It was nice and fancy radio. I was sure someone would return for it. However, no one ever did. I took the radio home, but my mother made me return it. We waited until dark and no one came back. So she let me keep it. I played that radio every day until one day it just stopped.
I learned how to repair radios after that. I’ve built them out of spare parts. I’ve listened to radio broadcasts from around the world.
A few years later, my mother made me change schools. I wasn’t a problem child or anything so I couldn’t understand I had to leave all my friends. It seemed like the end of the world, but it wasn’t. I swore I didn’t belong there and would never make any friends. However, one kid took upon himself to be my friend. While everyone else treated me like a pariah. This kid did his best to make me feel welcome. I don’t think I ever thanked him for that.
One day, we found a rabbit’s foot by the school we so excited. About what I can’t remember why, but none of that matters. What matters is at that moment we made a lasting memory. Something I didn’t know until decades later. Well my friend has kept that rabbit foot all these years. When he told me he still had the rabbit’s foot I couldn’t believe it.
It’s cool finding a radio would change my life. The coolest things I’ve found are a shortwave radio and rabbit’s foot
Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
In the late 80’s, I was on my way overseas when I looked up to see a guy who seemed oddly familiar. I knew I didn’t know him, but still he seemed familiar. It turned out to be El Debarge. Back then we could still smoke on the plane. So, I finished my cigarette while watching the people surround him.
Finally, I went to make sure I wasn’t crazy. For those who me, my sanity is debatable. However, this time I was correct. Mr. Debarge was pretty cool and humble I sat there watching him listen to us babbling about anything that came to mind. I remember the incident fondly.
Bonus, the Mary Jane Girls were on the plane as well. They were nice ladies who put up with endless questions.
Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
For most things, I’m a tightwad, even described as squeezing a penny so tight you can see the booger in Lincoln’s nose. There’s truth in that statement, with one exception. When it comes to my tech, I Typically spare no expense.
I don’t run out buying tech all willy-nilly. There will be none of that nonsense. Each piece of equipment must be researched again and again before purchase. Despite this rule, I keep equipment long after it should be replaced or upgraded.
Examples of this devotion to all things frugal: I shoot most of my photos with a secondhand Nikon D3200 and process video on a MacBook Pro. The MacBook Pro was ridiculously priced but is worth the coin. I’ve worn out three Windows boxes since I purchased my Mac.
My Sony FS5 was by far the most expensive equipment I own. She is old but gets the job done. I’m looking for a new camera body to possibly replace my Nikon. It’s going to cost an arm and leg, but what am I going to do? I have no choice, you know? Men and their toys and all.
I know there are people in this world who don’t entertain the idea of having a pet. I get it. They can be messy, expensive, and a lot of work. They even of the nerve at times to look at you as if you have done something inappropriate.
This is Roscoe … He always looks at me this way
Let’s not mention, talking to them and they completely ignore or disregard what your saying to them.
This is Emmett … He such a ham. He never pays me any attention
Seven years, I been dealing with this fella. Not so much as peep. You’d think if you dig holes in a guys years for that long, you could be at least friendly.
Sophie and Me chillin seeing what we can get into next
Sophie was a rescue and we have been together for two years now. I truly believe we rescued each other. I have bad days sometimes and she seems to understand when I’m having a hard time and comes to me. It’s quite amazing if you think about it.
Now, I going to provide some general information about ESA’s and their benefits.
The Importance of an Emotional Support Animal
Emotional support animals play a crucial role in providing comfort and emotional stability to their owners. These animals are not just pets; they are certified to provide specific assistance to individuals with mental health disorders. ESAs can help alleviate symptoms of anxiety, depression, PTSD, and other emotional conditions. They offer unconditional love, companionship, and a sense of security, which can greatly improve the overall well-being of their owners.
The Benefits of Emotional Support Animals
There are numerous benefits of having an emotional support animal. Firstly, the presence of an ESA can help reduce feelings of loneliness and isolation. Many individuals with mental health conditions often struggle with social interactions, but having a loyal companion by their side can provide a sense of belonging and comfort. ESAs can also help regulate emotions by providing a source of calmness and stability during times of distress.
Moreover, emotional support animals can help individuals cope with stress and anxiety. The simple act of petting or cuddling with an ESA has been proven to release endorphins, which are known as “feel-good” chemicals. This natural boost in mood can help reduce anxiety levels and promote relaxation. Additionally, the responsibility of taking care of an ESA can provide a sense of purpose and routine, which is particularly beneficial for individuals struggling with depression.
The Legal Rights of Emotional Support Animals
It is essential to understand the legal rights surrounding emotional support animals. In many countries, including the United States, ESAs are protected under the law. This means that individuals with valid ESA certifications can have their animals accompany them in housing that otherwise has a “no pets” policy. They are also allowed to travel on airplanes with their emotional support animals without having to pay additional fees.
However, it is important to note that emotional support animals are not the same as service animals. Service animals undergo extensive training to perform specific tasks for individuals with disabilities, while emotional support animals provide emotional comfort. Understanding the distinction between the two is crucial to ensure the appropriate rights and accommodations.
Sometimes, it’s hard for me to remember what it’s like to be a kid at heart. Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about childhood. I have had several random memories.
I remember pacing endlessly, wondering if my latest crush was into me. I enlisted help from my friends to discern my plight, but they weren’t any help. Then, a girl from the class appeared out of nowhere. She was known to accomplish this feat regularly. There was talk if she was some sort of fairy or some other mythical creature. Putting aside her unknown origins, she offered a probable solution to my crisis. There was a daisy in her hand.
She began plucking the pedals one by one, uttering, ” She loves me,” “She loves me not.” We waited as she continued plucking as if the fate of the world rested on the result. When she finished, I had a new love. However, this result was the farthest from the truth. I remember playing this game. It gives me a hardy laugh.
One of my friend’s mother asked me once if I was part squirrel. I didn’t know what she meant, but looking back, I can see why she asked that. I would scurry up a tree in a heartbeat, leaving her son looking up and complaining until he found the courage to climb up with me. We were kings, looking down at the world. We would pack sandwiches and comic books, staying there for hours.
I remember spending hours on various swing sets around the neighborhood. This photo reminds me of an old swing set where I used to sneak and swing. It was something sitting there gathering my thoughts about what mischief I was going to into next.
The bottom represents the playground swing I played with as a child. The swing I used to court my latest crush. The laughter, how I remember the laughter. It was almost like we didn’t know fear. We shared interests, fears, and passions. We never considered whether or not the information we shared would be used against us. It was friendships forged from innocence.
There are far too many quality websites to call one my favorite. However, there are a few I visit regularly. I understand this might be the time to publicly admit. [Clearing my throat] My name is Mangus, and I’m a bookworm and shopaholic. Because of this compulsion, I spend a considerable amount of time on Amazon. I just can’t help myself. I have one of those Kindle Fire things, so I buy books all the time. To make matters worse, I acquire most of my provisions from there as well. Not to mention office supplies, electronics, and ridiculous whatnot that one buys on a wimp.
Until recently, I spent a great of time on Goodreads. A social media site for bookworms. I admit the idea is exciting. However, I have purposely been weening myself from Goodreads in hopes of somehow curving my book buying. Then there’s Abe.com; where can you believe this madness; people post books for sale. There are first editions and the lot waiting for me to enter my credit card information. Thriftbooks.com has reasonably priced books and a points system so you can get some discounts. So not fair.
Wish me luck in my pursuit of curving my addictions. I’m running out of space for bookshelves and my Kindle is almost full.
You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
Dealing with a Djinn is like bucking the tiger odds. The odds are in favor of the house. This is because we speak in generalities. we are specific about what we want or need. Sometimes, we actually think we know exactly what we need only to find out it isn’t what we needed at all.
If I remember my scripture, Solomon was the wisest man in the world and there wouldn’t be another as wise as him. If he couldn’t get it right, then I suppose we are good.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not even a little bit. Somewhere along the way, the little bastard got to me. Maybe it was his eyes full of innocence that looked up at me as he gripped my finger when I met him. He stole his grandmother’s heart at the first coo. I wasn’t falling for that cute shit. He’s a male. He must be raised hard, tough, and ready. No pansies are allowed in my clan. No sir. No way.
However, from the start, I saw he going to be different. I saw something in him I wasn’t used to seeing. There was a kindness to him, not the kind that makes you soft. But the kind that makes people want to be around. The kind that’s the foundation of becoming a good man. My grandson is also a very thoughtful young man. I’m pretty sure he got these traits from his grandmother.
I have also noticed he has a bit of a mean streak, something he definitely got from my side of the family. However, I seldom see this side. All in all, he is a cool kid. You can’t tell him; he might think I’m getting soft.
There was a time when running was everything to me. I’ve literally have run hundreds if not thousands of miles in my life. It’s something about the struggle between your mind and body. The two of them trying to find synchronicity. The feeling is difficult to put into words.
Pushing past the pain, the burn in your lungs, the ache from your muscles, and the satisfaction once you have completed. Brings back memories. Depending on the weather, each run presents a difficult challenge. I always secretly loved running in the rain. Especially, a storm. I’d run straight into in an act of defiance. Knowing I should be inside, but no!
The battle between my will and Mother Nature had begun. Of course, I wasn’t going to win, but I would not be taken lightly. I would not cower inside like a good boy and wait. Yeah, that’s where was at, right there. Recalling it, brings back the emotions. My heart rate elevates, my breathing deepens, and my focus is on target.
I sometimes forget how I developed my love for running. How I built up my endurance, stamina, and intestinal fortitude. Oddly, it was from walking. I can’t to do the miles and rage war against the elements anymore by running. However, I can still go on a walk. I love it.
Let me explain why walking is so important to me. In earlier post, I babbled about a bionic kid wanting to a gymnast. It was attempt to be humorous, but missed the mark. Some of you might remember the story. For those who don’t remember or don’t have the foggiest idea what I’m about. Here is a link to the story
What I didn’t tell you about was after that fiasco I had to learn to walk again. I broke my hip in several places and lived in a body cast for a period of time. This marked the end of the adorable years. All my adorable chubbiness, which attracted women from the corners of the Earth just for the pleasure of pinching my cheek.
I never been a fan of cheek pinching, but it usually resulted in candy. So, I swallowed my disdain for the sake of candy. Once, I lost the chubbiness, the candy connection was over. Then, I met with healthy snacks, like apples, applesauce, and random raw vegetables from my grandmother garden. Of course, I suddenly wished I hadn’t broke my hip.
My journey of learning to walk again was challenging. I still don’t think I walk without a slight, but hitch in my step. It seemed I was going to be on crutches forever. I wasn’t before long, I was walking. Then I could run. Boy was I fast.
I walked everywhere. All across town, the different neighborhoods, the different stores, and all the different parks in town. I remember being told certain parks were only for the people who lived in the area. I paid that mess no attention. I kept walking.
Walking has always seem to be the activity where I can clear my mind. The activity where I can the peace that often escapes during the routines of the day. I can gauge myself while walking. Too much pain, tells me I’m not where I need to be physically. Or at least a good indication of my physical status.
Essays and stories have bloomed from my walks. My walks have also been the thread that has sworn together the story fragments that sometimes aimlessly linger in the corners of our minds. There not tucked too deep so we can forget, but they poke their heads out from time to time.
I look at this prompt with a certain measure of disbelief. Why would I pay anything to go to the moon? Let’s examine the question. Let me go at the possible advantages of going to the moon, let alone paying to go. From what I understand, the Moon is cold. I’ve been cold in my lifetime, and I don’t want to be cold. The winter season here on Earth is more than enough. I’ve spent winters in several different regions. I’m quite familiar with cold weather.
Now, how many science fiction stories have you read where anything good happens with living on the moon? I haven’t read any. If there are any that you know, please let me know. Here’s something interesting to consider. I’m a writer, so if I want to go to the Moon, all I have to do is write about it. Yep, all I have to do is sit in front of my laptop and devise a beautiful tale about a lunar adventure. Or I could pull out a stack of 28lbs paper and start writing.
So you see, there is no need to pay to go to the Moon when you are a writer. Pay to go to the Moon. Are you kidding me right now?
What’s something most people don’t know about you?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
I had several different responses to this prompt. I actually made very detailed notes on something else. However, I was at my brother’s motorcycle shop. I took several photos of his projects. I can’t disclose any of the works in progress. However, there is one I’m sure he won’t mind.
Over the last decade, I’ve gone on about my desire of wanting to ride a motorcycle. We have talked extensively during that time about owning one. Once, I went so far as to discuss the design of a bike. My brother graciously entertained my thoughts. However, I know nothing about designing or building a bike. He could have taken the opportunity to berate me. He didn’t, but he did something else instead.
One day, he tells me he will build me a bike. Now, I did my best not to be all giddy and lose my shit. I don’t think I pulled it off. I thought he joking around, but I went around the shop and took pictures of my future bike.
Let’s take a look, shall we…
Now, some may feel my baby is in rough shape. I assure you it’s in better shape than I am. Thanks to my brother’s I now have an opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream. Riding on the open road with the wind in my face and all that. Yes, I know it sounds cheesy, but don’t judge me!
The longer you live the more things you remember. There are many historical events that stand out in my mind. It’s hard to choose which ones to talk about. So, I’ve decided to discuss a few that impacted my life. These events made me stop and think about the world around me. Sometimes, I find myself a little taken back by the level of carnage some members of humanity are willing to unleash.
I wish this quote by Joseph Conrad had no relevance in today’s society. Sadly, it is just as relevant today as when he wrote it.
Orlando Nightclub Shooting
On June 12, 2016, a horrific event in Orlando, Florida, shook the nation. Omar Mateen, a 29-year-old man, carried out a mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub, resulting in the loss of 49 innocent lives and leaving 53 others wounded. The impact of this senseless act of violence reverberated far beyond the walls of the nightclub, leaving a deep scar on the LGBTQ+ community and the nation as a whole.
The Devastating Impact
The Orlando nightclub shooting was not just an act of violence but a targeted attack on a specific community. It attacked love, acceptance, and the freedom to be oneself. The LGBTQ+ community has long fought for equality and acceptance, and this tragic event served as a painful reminder that there are still those who seek to harm and oppress individuals based on their sexual orientation.
In the aftermath of the shooting, the nation came together to mourn the loss of innocent lives and support the LGBTQ+ community. Vigils were held across the country, with people from all walks of life coming together to stand in solidarity. It was a powerful display of unity and a testament to the resilience and strength of the human spirit.
The Importance of Remembering
As time passes, we mustn’t forget the Orlando nightclub shooting. We must remember the lives that were lost and the pain that was inflicted on the LGBTQ+ community. We honor the victims and their families by remembering and keeping their memories alive. Through this place, we can continue to fight for a world where everyone is accepted and loved for who they are.
Furthermore, the Orlando nightclub shooting serves as a reminder of the work that still needs to be done to prevent such acts of violence in the future. It highlights the need for better gun control measures to prevent individuals with harmful intentions from obtaining weapons. It also emphasizes creating a society that celebrates diversity and fosters acceptance.
I remember being outraged by this event. I wondered what was wrong with the young man. What was happening underneath the rhetoric? Of course, I will never know the answer to this question. However, this event didn’t hit me in the gut until a close friend shared her thoughts. Then finally exclaimed:
“They’re killing us, Mangus. They’re killing us!”
I had no idea what to do or how, if anything, I could comfort her. I still don’t. The event was senseless and cruel.
The Capitol Riots 2021
On January 6, 2021, some Americans lost their damn minds and stormed the Capital Building in Washington, D.C. This event should have never happened, but it did. Nearly three years later, I still question the point of the entire affair. I can remember staring at my boss like she had lost her mind. I heard her words, but they didn’t make sense.
The Attack on Democracy
The barrage of questions continued for a few minutes until I accepted that our Capital was under siege. I was furious. I felt helpless. I couldn’t do anything to right this wrong. It was no longer my job.
To attempt to overturn a presidential election by force is wrong on so many levels. I’m doing my best here to go into full mode.
Deep breaths…Mangus: Deep breaths … filth and foul and filth foul …deep breaths, use your words.
Civil disobedience is one of the things that made America what it is. However, in my opinion, the actions of that day went against the spirit of the country. That day was not our finest hour. We are better than this madness. It would behoove us to remember that.
Here is a link to the timeline of that day’s events provided by the BBC.
Healing and Moving Forward
In the aftermath of the Capitol riots, the nation grappled with the deep divisions that had been exposed. It was a stark reminder that democracy is fragile and requires constant vigilance. But in the face of this unprecedented attack on our democracy, there were glimmers of hope and unity.
Leaders from both sides of the political spectrum condemned the violence and called for accountability. The swift impeachment of the then-president and the subsequent investigations into the events of that day signaled a commitment to upholding the rule of law.
Furthermore, the resilience of the Capitol staff and law enforcement officers who worked tirelessly to protect the building and its occupants should be recognized and commended. Their bravery in the face of danger serves as a reminder of the dedication and sacrifice that public servants make every day.
Lessons Learned
The events of January 6, 2021, serve as a wake-up call for the nation. They highlight the urgent need to address the underlying issues that led to such a violent insurrection. We must examine the root causes of the division and discontent that fueled this attack on our democracy.
Moreover, the Capitol riots underscore the importance of education and critical thinking in a democratic society. We must invest in civic education and media literacy to ensure that citizens have the tools to discern fact from fiction and to engage in constructive dialogue rather than resorting to violence.
As we reflect on the Capitol riots of 2021, let us remember the lessons learned and work towards healing the wounds that continue to divide our nation. Only through unity, understanding, and a commitment to the principles of democracy can we build a brighter future for all Americans.
2017 Las Vegas Shooting
On October 1, 2017, the world was shocked as a horrific event unfolded in Las Vegas, Nevada. A lone gunman, identified as Stephen Paddock, opened fire on a crowd of concertgoers attending the Route 91 Harvest music festival. The attack resulted in the loss of 58 innocent lives and hundreds injured. This tragic incident is one of the deadliest mass shootings in modern American history.
The Devastating Impact
The impact of the 2017 Las Vegas shooting was felt by the victims, their families, and the entire nation. As news of the attack spread, a wave of grief and disbelief washed over the country. The concert, meant to celebrate music and unity, quickly turned into chaos and terror. Survivors and witnesses were left traumatized, forever scarred by that fateful night’s horrifying images and sounds.
The Las Vegas shooting also reignited the ongoing debate around gun control in the United States. The ease with which the shooter acquired a vast arsenal of weapons and ammunition raised severe concerns about the accessibility and regulation of firearms. Many called for stricter gun laws and comprehensive background checks to prevent similar tragedies from occurring in the future.
Unity and Resilience
In the face of such tragedy, the Las Vegas community displayed remarkable resilience and strength. Strangers came together to help the wounded, offering comfort and support amidst the chaos. First responders and medical professionals worked tirelessly to save lives and provide essential care to the injured. The city of Las Vegas rallied around the victims and their families, offering financial assistance, counseling services, and a collective shoulder to lean on.
The aftermath of the Las Vegas shooting also highlighted the importance of mental health support. Survivors and witnesses experienced profound emotional trauma that required professional intervention and support. Mental health organizations and counselors played a crucial role in helping individuals cope with the aftermath of the tragedy, emphasizing the need to prioritize mental well-being in the wake of such devastating events.
Conclusion
The 2017 Las Vegas shooting was an immense tragedy that deeply impacted the nation. The loss of innocent lives and the profound effects on the survivors and their families cannot be overstated. It serves as a somber reminder of the urgent need for stricter gun control measures and comprehensive mental health support in our society. This horrific event should compel us to reflect on the lives that were tragically cut short and the resilience displayed by the Las Vegas community. Moving forward, we must strive for a future where such senseless acts of violence are prevented, and where every individual feels safe and secure. Achieving this requires collective action and a steadfast commitment to change, as we honor the victims and work towards building a more peaceful and compassionate society.
The Capitol riots of 2021 will forever be etched into the annals of American history as a dark moment. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of democracy and the crucial importance of safeguarding our institutions. This shocking event shook the nation to its core, but it also sparked hope for healing and growth. As a nation, we can move forward by addressing the underlying issues that led to this unrest, fostering unity among our citizens, and prioritizing education to prevent such incidents from happening again. It is through these actions that we can strive for a better and more inclusive future, where the principles of democracy are upheld and respected.
The Orlando nightclub shooting was a tragic event that deeply impacted not only the LGBTQ+ community but also the entire nation. It served as a stark reminder of the ongoing presence of hatred and discrimination in our society. However, amidst the darkness, it also brought people together, showcasing the power of unity and love. As we remember the victims and their families, it is crucial that we continue to work towards creating a world where everyone feels safe, accepted, and valued. This means actively combating prejudice, fostering inclusivity, and promoting understanding. By doing so, we can honor the memory of those affected by this tragedy and strive for a society where diversity is celebrated and bigotry has no place.
What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?
PROSE – DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
It’s interesting how something just pops up. As if the universe has something to tell you.
“Psst, come here, buddy. I won’t bite.”
In such cases, the universe represents that crush you never dared to speak to more than a few seconds at a time. For some reason, you believed talking to them would ruin the perfect relationship you had developed in your mind. In your mind, her voice caressed your inner ear, her smile melted away any doubt, and you weren’t an awkward guy who would write his thoughts in a notebook.
Then, sometime in the distant future, time folds back on itself because that’s what it always does. It comes around, so you face the moment you avoided all those years ago. It comes whether you are ready for it or not. Most likely not, but that’s the enchantment of time isn’t. You learned some time back not to question the universe because it will do whatever it wants. So it goes …
This time, in the grind of time, I decided to revitalize the blog I started over a decade ago. I did so without any faith in my writing. Truthfully, I didn’t have any faith in myself. Eight months in today, my doubt has begun to fade. Yet, I ask myself whether or not my doubt is over? Despite this, every night right before bed, I rant by the light of an LED lamp.
I don’t rant for fame or glory; I write for sanity. I expose my scars and whisper my secrets. Once, I held them close to my heart. Like that was the move to make. As if sanity resided neath the scars because I could trust myself and no one else. No one would understand my demons; I didn’t understand them myself. This is what I told myself. It was belief, nay, my conviction. This is how depression is; this is how it pulls you in.
I thought I could be a conduit for someone else pain, grief, and anguish. In reality, I’m confessing my sins of war. The war within myself. My biggest risk is releasing the insomniac rants to the public. Yet, I have been doing it, you say? I have a few short story collections and a few novels I’ve been holding back. I hear the senior editor’s voice in my head, “What are you waiting on?”
I never thought I had what it takes to be a father. I felt I wasn’t caring enough. You know, those guys on television and movies make it so easy. They always knew exactly what to say at the proper moment. I’m not those guys. Constantly, I’m saying the wrong things all the time. Damn, an appropriate moment. If there is saying the wrong thing I’m good at, it is sticking my foot in my mouth. Shell-toe Adidas tastes decent, but I prefer Chuck’s. The more worn, the better.
So, I bet you are wondering if I’m a complete screw-up at being a father; how could it be the thing I’m the most proud of. It’s simple, I had to bust my ass to earn the title. I’ve put more energy into being a father than anything else. So, any accomplishments I’ve made were hard fought ones. So this makes their reward sweeter. However, I can’t rest on the fruits of my labor. Fatherhood continues to be challenging well into their adulthood. Their problems are bigger for some reason. What happened to the days of hair disasters, outfit malfunctions, and broken hearts.
I wish I had been around more for them. My occupation prevented the deep connections fathers sometimes have with their children. There are so many I couldn’t discuss with my family. So, I was an idiot and didn’t talk at all. That was a definite moment of brilliance (eye-roll). So, I provided them useless facts they couldn’t apply to most things due to the fact they didn’t live in the kind of world where knowledge of this sort was required. I ensured they didn’t have to deal with the madness I had as a child.
While raising my children, I suffered from PTSD. I thought I was tough enough to deal with the condition alone. Yeah, I was that jackass. Despite this, I’ve maintained a relationship with the children and the grandchildren. With the missed bedtime stories, Christmases, birthdays, and all the other things I missed I was trying to make the world better for them. I’m a lucky and blessed S.O.B., my sacrifices could have cost me the very thing I was trying to keep safe.
Where the Blackbird Sings: A storyline from the past I’ve been updating. I don’t currently have any intention on the purpose of this story. Whether it’s going to remain a short story or something more extensive. The most important aspect of this story is to continue writing until the story is complete.
Till the Sun Turns Black: An unfinished novel I’ve been playing around with for over a decade. Lately, I’ve been reexamining different portions of the manuscript, looking for new ways to make the story more compelling.
Unnamed Story: I’m currently working on a project initiated by another writer who could not complete it. This project is challenging because the initial concept wasn’t mine. In addition, it’s written from a female first-person POV. Since I’m not a woman, not having the protagonist sound masculine is complicated.
That’s all I have right now. Of course, I have several unnamed projects, but I have learned recently I need to prioritize my project to ensure completion.
Today, I realized I don’t have the mindset to have a lazy day and relax. I grew up believing you worked hard throughout the week and did chores around the house on the weekends. Saturday was the primary day of work. Sunday, I finished things up and prepared for the upcoming week. This logic has been the way, and I find no fault in its structure.
It’s strange how life can change your perspective on things whether you like it or not. I’ve mentioned my recent illness, which has caused me to change my lifestyle. Well, I am attempting to change it. Old habits are hard to break. I require much more rest than usual. I’m napping frequently and not getting a damn thing done. WTF, I appear to be getting soft. I can’t be having that. However, I must be honest with myself.
Honestly, I view my lack of progress in my chores around the house as unproductive, but in reality, getting a proper rest is very productive. I just need to be patient with myself.
I can’t remember why I started this. I can’t see where it was supposed to go. I know there was reason, a pretty good I’m sure. I probably crafted some clever dialogue to explain my actions if someone were to ask. No one did. I must remember I didn’t start writing to post on a blog. Hell, I didn’t start writing to be read. I wrote as a means to understand the stirring voices in my head.
Yes, I understand how that sounds. I concede you might have gone mental. I assure you I haven’t. I’m a writer who is attempting to write honestly about a topic. You guys would sense me being full of crap in a heartbeat. Throughout the years, I tried to force the things I wanted to write. I fell pray to the …
“Hey, this seems interesting.” or
“I got a great response to this piece; let’s write more about this, you think?” Or
“This is my signature piece.”
Yeah, limiting myself, like it is the thing to do. I didn’t have to worry about being put in a box or labeled. I did it myself. Constantly, I waged war against myself about the things that ended up on the page. Instead of WRITING SHIT LIKE YOU MEAN IT! I wrote these quaint pieces trying to find the formula that works.
“Sometimes in writing we stumble into a story …other times we trip and fall over what we intended to write.
Mangus Khan – 2015
I truly enjoy the ability to create something out of nothing. Well, not really nothing, but more precisely, use everything to create a believable story. I’ve used a portion of overheard conversations, witnessed events, or conjured a scene from the splinters of my mind. Whichever the source, the joy is finding a way to string them together into something meaningful… I hope.
I’ve lectured about writers being time travelers of a sort. No one ever gets where I’m coming from when I make this statement. My point is simple, actually. We have the power to rewrite history to suit ourselves. As long as we make the story compelling. When we are making up stuff, it doesn’t have to necessarily be believable. Some of the most ridiculous stories are compelling. We laugh out loud or shake our heads as we finish the story.
I used to worry about what the reader would think about what I had to say. This is important to a degree. I used to worry about so much I would actually get stuck and stop writing. Or even worse, the idea would never see the page. I’ve told my writing team hundreds of ideas but never written. It was as if I whispered into the wind, hoping another writer in an unknown destination or time would hear it and write it down.
All this was before I began to believe in myself and the writing process. I stop trying to force my will onto the subject matter. I learned to let go and trip and fall into it.
Most importantly, I’ve learned to enjoy the entire process. For example, this very post I started writing it back in August. Of course, I had a lot to say about what I enjoy about writing. Oh yeah, let me tell you all about that about it. Let’s not. I’m good. Aren’t you?
This blog wasn’t supposed to be what it has become. I was ready to quit before I wrote the first post. However, I’ve kept going; believe me, this year has been incredible. I couldn’t imagine the success I’ve had here. You guys have taught me so much about writing as well as assisted me in realizing things about myself. Then, I wonder about stuff like this …
Will it matter how many doors opened, portals gazed through, or notebooks filled? Will we truly say all that we hear in the silence? Only you can answer these questions in the words you write. I wish words of kindness and love would replace the hatred lurking in the soul of man. I wish the tears that drench these pages were of joy instead of sorrow. I hope for a better tomorrow.
I wish what we find in our darkest hour, we embrace its truth. We have hid too long from who we really are. I wish that truth flourishes, providing the wisdom necessary as we bare our souls. It will be liberating to walk from behind the veil of another person’s ideal. I wish this unveiled soul speaks with passion and dignity, knowing by doing so, the words will be spoken with honor. I wish we could free ourselves and honestly speak soulfully.
“The essential thing is that you write about something you really care about. Identifying that something, however, is not always easy. Are surrounded by received opinion, a constant barrage of information, drama, ideas, and judgements offended us live, printed, and electronic. It is so much easier to know what we ought to think and feel then what we actually do. “
With that being said, I often find it difficult to find subjects I would like to write about. It’s challenging to make interesting content. However, I feel it’s critical to be honest with yourself as a writer. My favorite portion of writing is creating phrases. When I’m editing, I just want it to be over. However, I realize a properly edited piece can turn good writing into excellent writing. I didn’t always feel this way. Just ask my senior editor. I’m sure there were several moments when if she could have got her hands on me. It would not have been good for me. Sometimes writing is like …
The night whispers have faded as dawn stretches with one eye open and the other squinted. Caffeine burns through my bloodstream as I roll myself a cigarette in the early morning strain. Lately, my words don’t seem like mine; they are flat and lifeless as if my pen has lost its courage. The words tease as they linger on the tip of my tongue. Though submerged in this state of bewilderment, my face distorts into a smile. I realize that I have been preparing for this conversation for years. It became clear the difficulties never change. One minute, you stare blankly into the nothingness, and the next, you find yourself face down on your desk with slobber-drenched hair and coffee-stained lips. The result is a story about you, which is nothing more than a reflection about me, pulsing happily on a word processor.
While trying to remember, every word, sentence, or paragraph is another attempt for writers to learn to fly.
The other day, I was talking to a close friend, telling her I can’t expect many views because I’m not selling a product. Therefore, the SEO strategy should be different. She looked at me momentarily as if waiting for me to say something.
“The product you are selling is you. So, in this case, you have cornered the market; you are unique and exclusive.”
I look at this question and laugh. I know it isn’t intended to be funny, but it is. I don’t have a clue how to answer this question. Perhaps if I approach it in reverse. I know what makes a bad neighbor. I’ve had a few of those over the years. The kind of people who complain about the length of your grass. The polite suggestion of adding a coat of paint to your house.
However, I have neighbors bring baked goods to welcome my family to the neighborhood. I never trusted the sentiment. Perhaps, it’s my inability to understand the merits of strangers knocking on my door with a casserole. If you want to win me over, let’s start with a chocolate cake, a minimum of two layers. My wife asked once, “What kind of cave were you brought up in?” I looked at her before speaking. This time, I actually considered my response.
“It was quite nice. Quiet, low light, and no neighbors bringing random casserole. Honey, you know I don’t do random casserole.”
She looked at me momentarily with a smile slowly creeping to the corners of her face. She did her best not to laugh. There was even a flash of annoyance, but it didn’t hold. She walked away, muttering something about, “How crazy I can I be?”
As a kid, I spent hours watching a TV show, “The Man from Atlantis,” starring Patrick Duffy. This show was before he rose to fame as “Bobby Ewing” on the iconic drama Dallas. It was a horrible television show I barely remember. However, do remember spending time at the local swimming pool trying to mimic his swimming style. Now, I didn’t have much success in this endeavor. A fact I chalked up to me not being an Atlantean. I went to my mother and explained my plight. “Boy, you are crazy,” she replied as she shrugged on her coat, heading off to work.
Here’s a clip from the Man from Atlantis
I decided to give my explanation another try with my grandmother. She didn’t even respond. Well, not in a way I was accustomed. She sat me down for what would become one of the few shows we enjoyed together. I didn’t understand most of the show, but I thought it was cool. Swimming around underwater and whatnot is precisely what I will do when I grow up. Who needs superpowers or any of that stuff. Deep sea exploration was where it was at.
Here is Mimi’s show we shared together.
I hadn’t thought about any of this stuff for years. I’m almost ashamed when I think about how I jumped from career to career. But that’s what we do when we are young. We try out different opportunities before settling on a career that will last us a lifetime. Provide us fulfillment and joy. A career that, when we retire, we know our efforts made a difference.
Wow! I’m sorry, I have no idea where that bullshit came from. I guess since I was feeling nostalgic, it opened a portal to memories of people feeding me that line as they clearly wanted to be someplace else. I didn’t have the snark to call it on them then. It’s okay if I ever finish the time machine in my basement. I have enough snark now to handle the situation appropriately. Yep, I wanted to be a deep sea explorer and have all the cool toys. I would try it now if I was healthy enough and had a shot. Why the hell not!
I’ve always felt that people who do things as a matter of principle are full of crap. Typically, I’ve found they will remain steadfast with whatever the principal absence of any logical evidence. I don’t think they mean to do this intentionally, at least not right off. Sometimes, I feel they get caught up in the need to be right. Perhaps it is the fear of being wrong. Whichever the case, I find the result illogical to the point of insanity at times.
Most of us live by a set of rules, standards, or codes established based on a series of events that have occurred in our lifetime. Everyone has different standards because we process things differently. The crazy thing is that the standards we set change over time. Some things no longer have the Importance they once had. In these circumstances, we sometimes have difficulty accepting the changes. Honestly, accepting the changes is a demon most people face in various situations. Nobody is expecting you to admit this, not at all. Because denial is our next favorite thing.
Some common principles that people live by include:
Honesty: Being truthful and sincere in all interactions. This principle emphasizes the importance of transparency and trustworthiness in our dealings with others. It involves speaking the truth, keeping promises, and acting with integrity.
Respect: Treating others with kindness, dignity, and consideration. Respecting others means valuing their opinions, beliefs, and boundaries. It involves listening attentively, being open-minded, and refraining from judgment. By showing respect, we create a positive and inclusive environment for everyone.
Integrity: Acting in alignment with one’s values and moral principles. Integrity is about doing the right thing, even when no one is watching. It involves being honest, ethical, and accountable for our actions. We build trust and credibility in our personal and professional relationships by practicing integrity.
Responsibility: Taking ownership of one’s actions and obligations. Being responsible means fulfilling our duties and commitments. It involves being reliable, punctual, and accountable for the consequences of our choices. By being trustworthy, we demonstrate maturity and contribute to the well-being of our communities.
Compassion: Showing empathy and understanding towards others. Compassion involves recognizing and alleviating the suffering of others. It involves being kind, caring, and supportive. By practicing compassion, we foster connection and promote a more compassionate society.
Perseverance: Persisting and staying committed in the face of challenges. Perseverance is about not giving up when faced with obstacles or setbacks. It involves staying focused, motivated, and resilient. By practicing perseverance, we can achieve our goals and overcome adversity.
Gratitude: Appreciating and expressing thankfulness for what one has. Gratitude involves recognizing and acknowledging the blessings in our lives. It involves being thankful for the people, experiences, and opportunities that enrich our existence. We cultivate a positive mindset and enhance our overall well-being by cultivating gratitude.
Forgiveness: Letting go of resentments and granting forgiveness. Forgiveness involves releasing anger, bitterness, and grudges towards others. It consists in choosing to move forward and free ourselves from negativity. By practicing forgiveness, we promote healing and create space for personal growth.
Generosity: Sharing resources, time, and kindness with others. Generosity entails giving without expecting anything in return. It involves being selfless, compassionate, and supportive. By practicing generosity, we contribute to the happiness and well-being of others.
Humility: Recognizing and accepting one’s limitations and imperfections. Humility is about having a modest and humble attitude towards oneself. It involves acknowledging that we are not perfect and being open to learning from others. We foster humility, respect, and collaboration in our interactions by embracing humility.
These are only a few examples of the types of principles we use to define ourselves. I use a combination of some of these principles in varying degrees. I think it is crucial for me to do my best to be true to the person I strive to be.
Sometimes, it’s difficult to decide what things have the greatest priority. Everyone has so many things going on in their lives the only thing we can seem to do is breathe. Sometimes, we can only take quick and shallow breaths. Despite my daily tasks, my primary priority must always be doing all it takes to make a difference. I concede this priority is challenging, and perhaps I should choose a smaller task. One easier to complete, but this isn’t how I roll. It never has been.
When I wrote full-time, my writing team constantly accused me of procrastinating. We created several blogs, writing workshops, and countless other writing-related things during this time. Due to this, I wondered why they would say such a thing. I admit I might have been a little wounded. Just a tad. Then, one day, my senior editor had a conversation with me. If I’m being honest, it was more scolding. I felt like a child in the corner, sucking my thumb. Ready to blurt out, “I’m sorry, and I will never do it again,” at the proper moment. You know, timing is everything when it comes to apologies.
It wasn’t about everything we had accomplished; it was a single question about one thing. I hadn’t done. She wanted to know why I hadn’t finished my novels. She had every right to question me; I was writing a novel when we met. I couldn’t answer her then, nor can I answer her now. Worst of all, I have no answers for myself. Oh, I’ve several excuses for not finishing. However, none of them had any iron. It was like there were empty promises we tell ourselves in the moments of doubt. Despite this, since my reemergence, I have continued to write. My progress has been slow, as each sentence brings me closer to finding my way.
Recently, she expressed her delight in my bringing new light to some old stories in the archives. So, she hasn’t been giving me a hard time lately. I’m incredibly grateful to my imagination and Ursula, my muse, for assisting. She can be a pain in the ass when she doesn’t get her words. It’s a whole story by itself. I don’t have a reason why I have finished writing my novels, but I’m writing again. Right now, that must be enough. What I do know, it feels good to be writing again. I feel stronger than I have in some time.
Some of my close friends may say I’ve never grown up. It’s almost like I’m clowning around all the time. Then, a group of my closest friends entertain the thought I was born old. A small faction questions whether or not I was born fully grown. I must admit there is a lack of any photographic evidence proving my suspected childhood.
I contend I have an old soul. Yes, let’s go with that phrase. I fondly remember several elders in my childhood using it, referring to me. With this, I conclude that I must have routinely conducted myself well beyond my years. As such, I can’t put together a confirmed time when I first felt like a grown-up. I say it wasn’t the time I kissed a girl or anything. In fact, I don’t even consider when I first entered the military as an adult. I certainly do adult things, but whether I was a grown-up, nah!
However, I was in the military when the haunting moment of adulthood crept into my psyche. Something about facing your mortality tends to snap the child right out of you. It wasn’t the first time, but several events happening in 12 months did the trick. So, there I was, living in another part of the world, trying my best not to take anything seriously. Then, BOOM! It happened I was a grown-up.
What’s a topic or issue about which you’ve changed your mind?
DAILY PROMPT RESPONSE
It isn’t easy to change a person’s mind once it’s been set. It’s a matter of principle, I suppose. Some may call it stubbornness. These words are thrown about when we have questions like these. I was brought to believe I mustn’t be afraid of anything. There is no way you should be scared. Especially if you’re a man. Men must be fearless. We are celebrated for bravery and courage. As a man, we know there will be times when we may experience fear, but we mustn’t allow it to consume us.
Throughout my life, I witnessed several men plunge into danger for the sake of the appearance of bravery and courage. These situations diminish with age. Yet, what I come to discuss today isn’t the outward expression of bravery and courage, but I want to talk about when we need to internalize those traits to battle the most brutal enemy we will ever face: ourselves.
As a man of a certain age, we were taught to be tough. For me, this meant I swallowed my emotions. I mustn’t express any feeling that wasn’t acceptable. I did this rather well. At least, I believed this until the things I buried began to rear their ugly heads. I’ve made several posts where I mentioned battling demons or my monster. It’s easy to believe I have something inside of me that I can fight and possibly defeat one day. The tricky thing is to admit these demons and monsters are a part of me. It’s even harder to admit I’m a part of them.
In the aftermath of the unintended consequences of my errors in judgment. I realize and believe it’s okay to be afraid.
When I look at questions like these, they are so simple on the surface. I answer them in a few short lines: a witty remark or snarky comment. The simple answer for me is my world be so quiet and peaceful. There is no constant notifications of sales on anti-virus software, no Cialis sold at cost, or the lonely mature women needing to be serviced who are waiting for you just a click away. There are no ads from Classmates.com urging you to reconnect with people you don’t remember or are desperately trying to forget.
I would sit back in my easy chair and recall life from a different time. Something so long ago, it sometimes feels like a fairy tale or bedtime story. I stayed up late with my flashlight, reading the latest installment of Conan. My auntie kept my supply stocked. I read them exactly once before stacking them neatly in a trunk. I’d hear my mother coming down the hall to ensure I was in bed. I’d quickly shift to my side and pretend to be asleep. My mother never bought my act but never called me on it. I returned the favor when my daughters would read Goosebumps and The Babysitters Club.
When my children were young, I would sit quietly, reading by the light of the fireplace. My dogs were nestled nearby. They looked as if they were asleep like the children, but they did a lot of pretending as well. Yes, these simplistic scenes are nice and pleasant as we look at this question on the surface. So, let’s be bold and take a peep into the abyss. Before we get started, let me put on a little mood music. Led Zeppelin’s In Through the Out Door will do nicely.
Let’s begin with the basic survival needs. My life without a computer would be dark, cold, hot, or anything else that occurs in the absence of electricity. A computer system manages the current power grid. No computer, no power, it’s that simple. With no electricity, my refrigerator and freezer would unthaw. My food supply would take a drastic hit. I couldn’t keep my medication at the proper temperature. So, it diminishes my survival chances with each second that ticks away.
You figured I could go to the store and purchase more food, right? Say the grocery store has a backup generator, so their products have survived. However, I couldn’t ring up my purchases because a class 2 laser reads the bar codes, and they feed information into what? That’s right, a computer. Let’s remember the use of electronic funds. We could go to the bank and get cash, but wait… the tellers use a computer to access your banking information…oops!
Soon, we would run out of gas, so there goes the backup generators. No? Well, a computer-assisted system runs the pumps of today. Not to mention, computer systems run all the refineries. Oh yeah, I forgot, computers also run the food processing plants.
Do you want to hear something strange? The things I listed in this post are just scratching the surface, like the question. Despite this, we can get a glimpse of how deeply computers integrate into our daily lives. Yeah, if things were that simple.
Throughout most of my life, I have been a detail-oriented person. I suppose I been this way due to a fear of making a mistake. I’m unsure if I realized that fact before I sat down to write this post. However, if success is to had by examing the merits of today’s prompt; honesty is paramount.
What I find peculiar about this whole affair is that I usually don’t miss a thing. All my bases are covered. My backup plans are worked out and in place. I habitually have a contingency for most situations I find myself involved in. So typically, the answer to questions like these is “I’ve squared away.” However, being squared away today is the furthest from the truth than it has been in a very long time.
I’ve mentioned in several posts I have been experiencing some health issues. With this comes a series of lifestyle changes. I’m not exactly pleased by this development and tend to demonstrate the “fuck it” attitude. However, my circles of friends, or better yet, the family I have chosen, have made abundantly clear they are seconds from kicking my butt if I don’t start taking things seriously. I’ve been on this earth long enough to recognize when the threat is real.
So what does all this actually mean? I need to make the appropriate changes to my lifestyle. I need to use my ability to sweat the details to ensure I doing it the right way. I do this for myself and no one else. Well, that’s the right thing to say, yet there is truth and iron in these words. However, it isn’t lost on me that, My family and friends would appreciate my presence as long as possible. There’s nothing better than love felt from your people. Plus, I’m getting a little too old to take a beating.
When considering today’s prompt I think about all the things I cram into my head regularly. I’m passionate about learning new things that interest me. I believe I have always been this way or at least, as far back as I can remember.
My mother called me a “curious little fella.” She had these eyes that summed you up in a glance. So, there was no use lying to her. Just, tell it straight. It was better for anybody in the end. She brought a bunch of those Curious George books. Wow, do you remember those things? I read them a couple of times.
Then came the dictionaries and then the encyclopedias. I spent hours reading and scribbling in my spiral notebooks. Here is the funny thing I can remember a single thing I learned from reading those books. I must learned a great deal, obviously. Yet, I can’t remember a moment reading them where the light bulb in my mind lighted up.
My ability to absorb information and apply information has served well in over the years. However, this ability comes with a cost. Sometimes heavier than others, but a cost none the less. My obsessive nature for learning, causes stress and anxiety. To look at me, I display no outwards signs, I assure you I’m emotionally compromised.
This attitude of mine has taking its toll on my mind, body, and spirit. With all this, the skill I need to learn: is the ability to relax. I know that sounds easy enough, but its not.
The short answer would be satisfaction. However, satisfaction doesn’t seem to be a strong enough word to describe my feelings after hard work. Though, being a writer, one would think I could find the appropriate word, but there are things in life that can’t be described but felt.
I’ve known by many names in my lifetime. Some flattering, others not so much. However, I say I earned every one of them. I take a certain measure of pride in these names, all of them, especially the one not so flattering. No matter the duration, people took the time to bless me with a moniker.
I realize some may consider this approach brazen to romanticize, which I guess could be regarded as an insult.
I Laugh every time.
However, I realize my nicknames depend on the company I keep. With one group of friends, I’m this. Another group I’m that. There’s always a zany story behind each of them. A personal anecdote shared between a group of people. A tether to a moment that contains something significant.
List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.
PROSE – RANT -REFLECTION
When I started working, I had no idea what I wanted to do or, better yet, what I was doing. I remember working to help my mother so I could help buy school clothes. Whenever I went to work, it seemed to be for a purpose other than money. Yes, money is an obvious by-product, but it wasn’t a primary reason.
Throughout my life, I did whatever was necessary to care for my family. However, I reached a point in my life where things are simpler. So, today’s prompt is an easy one to answer. Let’s establish a few ground rules.
Magic resides in the hearts of every species on the planet. We must remember to believe in the power and beauty inside us. Be Magical!
Time Travel is real. Nothing else needs to be said.
So, with the establishment of the above parameters I will list jobs I would like to have.
Radio Disc jockey circa. 1950’s: This is the birth of music as we know it. Muddy Waters, Howlin Wolf, Sister Rosetta Thorpe, and the list goes on.
Used Bookstore Owner circa 2050: Books will be relics by then. Most people would have never heard of a book. Therefore, traffic would be minimal. This means I sit around reading all day, and no one would think I’m being lazy. It’s my job, who cares about the money.
Owner of a 24-Hour Diner Why? because diner food is awesome. And I could sit and drink coffee while writing down my time-travel adventures.
When I grew up, we were defined by the clothes we wore. At least, I thought so. Madre Khan was poor, but she did the best she could. There was never a night I went to sleep hungry or ever wondered where I was going to lay my head. A fact I can certainly appreciate now, even if I didn’t know how then. It’s funny how we sometimes realize how fortunate we are until much later. I suppose it always works that way.
During my childhood, we had the “generic” label craze. I can remember being glad it was over, but now I find myself a little nostalgic. We were raised on the ideals like.
“You pay for what you get.”
“You pay for quality.”
I could go on for days, but I’m sure you get the idea because you have heard them a time or two. I remember my stepmother complaining about how I spent my money. I smiled and told her I buy what I need; I rarely worry about the price. She looked at me like I had lost my mind. I imagine to her I had. She grew up during an era when things were tight and scarce.
I wear Dickies apparel for leisure on most days. I hardly entertain anything else. I like the way they feel and their durability. Most of my office accessories are Logitech because they typically make a solid product with a good life. I’m an Apple guy on everything but my phone. I have solid reasons for each of my choices. Well, at least that’s what I tell myself. If I change brands, I will research it if I can.
I wish I wasn’t such a brand whore, but I like what I like. I’m good with that.
As thinking about this prompt, I keep coming back to central idea I have used for most of life.
“Take Care of Business”
However, today it takes on new meaning. I spent a tremendous amount of time worrying about taking care of the needs of others. I accomplished this in some of the most clever ways. The needs of others were the most important to me and in many ways it remains so. However, in my current physical state this can no longer be the priority.
Somehow, I must move beyond my natural inclinations and focus on myself. Somehow, I need to apply the wisdom I’ve gained to myself. I say these things out loud hoping I will listen. I question my ability to render assistance to anyone if I’m not able to hold up my end. Let’s be clear here, holding up my end is taking care of myself to I can live the fullest life possible. My family and friends would be grateful.
Perhaps, they could think of me, without wondering if I’m doing the right things. Of course they can.
If you will excuse me. I have some business to tend to. Its lunch time and there’s a disgustingly delicious salad waiting for me.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
DAILY PROMPT/CHALLENGES
For the quote of the day, I posted a quote by Albert Einstein. I chose it because of its connection to today daily prompt.
On numerous occasions throughout my life, some variation of the quote itself or its resolution.
“I know you know, but you really understand?”
“It one thing to know what, but another to understand why you’re doing it”
Phrases like those listed above are as common place as the excuses we come with to justify doing something we know we shouldn’t. You don’t have to think about they sort of roll of the tongue.
Yet, I’m sure you have or perhaps, even felt the following.
“I don’t I really that old saying until right now”
“Wow! That’s nanna meant when she used to say that”
“Is that what Mom meant? I used to give such a hard time”
This weekend I was reminded knowing something is one thing; actually doing something is another. I sat there with nothing to say, because the point was made. It realism hit hard. It spoke a truth I don’t believe I was ready for, but I needed to hear.
So, the best advice I’ve gotten? I try to sum it up quickly …
“It’s not enough to know something; you must also understand it. Then you must figure how you going to apply it. And do wisely.”
Which topics would you like to be more informed about?
PROSE – RANDOM THOUGHTS/REFLECTION/MINI-RANT
I’m always studying something. Constantly scribbling in my notebooks about whatever strikes my fancy. I scribble so much that I spend an enormous amount of money on quality notebooks. No way, I lower myself to use a regular notebook. So what do I do? I discovered how to make my own notebooks. Yay, for me and my ridiculous obsessions.
However, in light of my current health status, I believe I don’t have a choice but to research my conditions. So, let’s take a look.
Hypertension – precisely the long-term effects of uncontrolled hypertension. What are the possible holistic techniques for controlling it?
Insomnia – I have suffered from this condition for years. Perhaps a deeper understanding of the condition will assist in its elimination or minimalization.
Sleep Deprivation – results when one has been an insomniac for decades; who knew?
Gardening – Vegetables, herbs, and sunshine.
I’m looking to discover the wonders within these topics. I have already written two articles concerning sleep disorders.
Name the professional athletes you respect the most and why.
PROSE – OBSERVATION
Regarding professional athletes, we as a society tend to look at them singularly. I never understood why that is, but only to say primarily, I wasn’t any different. However, I’ve read articles telling the exploits of some of these athletes. I cannot name all things done, but I can highlight a few things that have caught my eye.
Nice
Sweet
Four Icon’s
In the above photo, we have NFL legend Jim Brown. He’s featured with Fred Williamson, Jim Kelly, and Richard Roundtree. In their own right, each of these gentlemen justifies the use of the word legend. Probably, they were photographed together because of the filmOne Down, Two to Go (1982), in which they starred. Let’s take a moment to discuss these men.
Jim Brown(1936 – 2023) was an NFL legend who played from (1957 – 1965). Brown is considered one of the best running backs of all time. My introduction to Jim Brown is through his movies. I remember watching his films, but I was unaware he was an athlete then. My uncle sat me down for a long talk about “black heroes” in America. The only thing you can do during one of those talks is keep your mouth shut and nod at the appropriate times. It took a few years to get my timing down, but I eventually got it down cold. I could talk forever about Jim Brown, but this is one last thing I want to point out. Jim Brown had a love scene with Raquel Welch. RESPECT.
Fred Williamsonwas a former professional football player from (1960 – 1967). I discovered him in a B-Movie martial arts film with Cynthia Rockroth. He was the definition of confidence for me at the time. He was just cool. Later, I found he starred in the Blaxploitation films of the seventies. I remember watching many of those films with my aunt. Where I had to sit there in complete silence under the threat of banishment if I opened my inquisitive mouth. A tradition I passed along to my children. I’m happy to see they continued the tradition.
Jim Kellyto me was the ultimate martial artist. Perhaps because I could identify with him. To have a serious set of skills in the arts, but ridiculously cool. Earlier, this year, I wrote a post called Bruce Lee Saved my Life where I mention Mr. Kelly and he influenced my studies in martial arts, which ultimately assisted in shaping my life. I didn’t have the opportunity to grow an afro like he had, but I embraced the improvisation approach to martial arts. Well, at least I tried. My sensai wasn’t having none of that.
Richard Roundtree is the only one pictured who isn’t a professional athlete. Mr. Roundtree became the titular character of the 1971 screen adaptation of Ernest Tidyman’s Shaft. His portrayal of John Shaft has lasted over fifty years. There were 5 films and a short-lived television series. There were seven episodes. Mr. Roundtree was the epitome of cool among my friends. Leather jackets, turtlenecks, and afro were a fashion staple. Thank goodness sideburns were out of fashion before I could grow them.
As a child, I grew up watching Muhammad Ali destroy his opponents. He talked so much trash. I remember some people used him as an example of arrogance and conceit. I told some of the older gentlemen playing checkers in the park. They responded, “Yeah, and he can back it up.” Though I always had profound respect for his athletic prowess, I realized I didn’t know much about the man. If I’m being honest, I still don’t. However, I read an essay discussing a moment in Ali’s life. I found a different sort of respect. I began to respect the man as well as the athlete.
Kareem Abdul-Jabber Earlier this year, I wrote a review about an essay Kareem Abdul Jabber wrote. This essay has a story about an event involving him, Bill Russell, Jim Brown, and Muhammad Ali. Here is a link to the early post: The Knucklehead Report #5. As a basketball player and the shortest center in the game, I watched much of Kareem’s style of play. Mostly, he had court poise, which I was seriously lacking.
Today’s response is a short one. I just don’t have much to say. I typically forget about holidays. The next things I know someone asking I’m doing for the holidays. My response is nothing.
It’s ridicolous to ask a writer to choose their favorite word. I’m sure many of us have one, but to call us out. Is that even cool?
Of course, it isn’t. So, I’m going to pretend you didn’t even pose such an absurd query. What’s that now? Let’s not waste time with such foolishness.
It was the sixties, I made my entrance with a bang, if I so myself. We listened to peculiar jiggles that were designed to attach themselves to whatever portion of the brain that allow you to forget it. I wish I knew the name of it, perhaps, I wouldn’t have forgotten her name.
It started with this nonsense
Somewhere along the way, words become essential. Yeah, of course, words are important. They are how we communicate. Perhaps the word I’m looking for to explain better the intensity I’m trying to convey. Should I pull out my dictionary and thesaurus?
It’s hard to concentrate because there aso many wonderful words to choose from. I guess I need to speak plainly. I became obsessed with words. I badgered my mother into purchasing a dictionary larger than my head. She finally relented and brought the dictionary with my first journal.
I hadn’t heard of a thesaurus when I started my quest to learn every word. A student teacher, whose name I forgotten, began to explain about the dictionariers mythical companion. She smiled with her eyes and her eyes were the kindest I can remember seeing. She also discussed Schoolhouse Rock with me.
My Secret Superhero
Looking back, I don’t she was very old. At the very least she was still in touch with her inner child. Her guidance helped shaped the writer I eventually became. I just wish I could remember her name.
Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.
PROSE – RECOLLECTION
I’ve been cooking ever since I was about eight years old. I’m not a chef, but I can hold my own in the kitchen. I often find myself complaining about the local cuisine. So much, my lady questions me every time I get takeout. Plus, there have been some mishaps concerning my dietary restrictions. So, she believes to resolve these issues is to cook at home.
Now, did I ever tell you about when I tried to add MRE’s dishes to my menu?
My main food source for years.
Meals Ready to Eat (MRE) has been a source of rations for the military for a number of years. I and several others have learned to make these meals taste a little better than how they come out of the package. If you look online, I’m sure you find thousands of recipes. When I started eating these, there was a different package, and I don’t remember there being a heater. There may have been one, but I honestly can’t remember.
We learned to eat a lot of meals cold. My unit was on the move, and cold meals became the standard. When we were able to stay stationary, we heated things up. However, this wasn’t very often.
So, I got married, had kids, and all that. The kids wanted to know what I ate while I was away. So I brought a few home and told them about them.
Over time, you learn which meals contain the different sides. Apple vs. grape jelly, peanut butter or cheese spread, things like that. Obtaining the ingredients and getting the portions correct can be a delicate process. We had all the ingredients. Then, we started putting everything together when my pager went off. I hurriedly gave my middle daughter the instructions, grabbed my go-bag, and headed out the door. As I walked out, she repeated everything to me, and I assured her she had it down. She did, except for one thing. Heat.
I returned a month later, but I never did get the full story of what happened. I was summarily banned from the kitchen. It took decades before I was granted access to the kitchen on a provisional basis. I thought the whole affair comical; being blamed for something, and I wasn’t even there. Honestly, I think me leaving in the middle of fun time with the kids with the problem.
Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
PROSE – INTROSPECTION
If you are like me, when reading this prompt, you’re which pearl of wisdom to drop. What insight makes the city today. There are so many to use from. I think it changes depending on what’s happening in a person’s life. I say this because I had a different perspective as I started drafting this post. I think I was going to speak on relationships or something. Yes, I see my notes.
Today, I returned to work after being ill. I’m still not 100 percent, but I’m doing better than before. I sat at my desk, looking at stacks of files, and began to get worried. Immediately, I felt bad for being sick and would never get caught up. I took a deep breath, opened my notebook, and reviewed the items I was working on before I got sick.
I began making a list on my whiteboard and second work brain and saw a message I had left myself.
“Manage your Expectations”
I leaned on the edge of my desk and thought about the message. Then, a coworker stopped by to check on me but really needed to vent about the workload. So, I went into this rant about expectations and managing them.
When we finished, I returned to working on the pile on my desk, but with clarity and a sense of ease. I wished I had learned this when I was younger, but I didn’t. I can’t remember when I discovered it. I’m unsure why I left it as a message to myself. I suppose it doesn’t matter when it comes down to it. It’s what I needed to hear now.
Lately, I’ve become aware of the hazards of holding on to grudges. However, we can not ignore that they often are the catalyst that shape us into the people we are today. There is a darker side of holding on to grudges.
So, don’t hold on to them for they may eat you alive.
But, one must never forget the situations that cause them…and you gain the wisdom from them…..its 4am
I beleive its important to point out I’m some pansy running boo-hooing. However, acknowledging the presence of tenderness or innocence displays reserves of strength that can’t be adequately described in words. I know I been trying for years. Yet, I suppose one of you may have come up with something by now.
When I close my eyes thinking of innocence, I have a moment of return. I was child running through the snow. On my way to no place in particular. The idea of freedom after the storm was enough. Soon, I’d run into a friend and another random child exploring freedom.
We’d play until our fingers were numb. Because everybody knows waiting any further, you know, waiting until they start to ache. It was bad enough to sit from the oven with your fingers stretched out. They ache, hell that wicked pain. The kind of pain that brought tears to your eyes. There’s no shame in it. We weren’t old enough to understand that kind of foolishness.
Some day, not long from then, we were introduced to foolishness. We stopped expressing our feelings. We swallowed them like they were a plate full of double cheeseburgers. We just shovel them down one after another. I suppose that’s the price of manhood. Well, at least it was that way when I come up.
I miss the age of innocence because life tends to rip it away unexpectedly. Leaving you standing there with a gapping hole where innocence l
Or an error in judgment. Me thinking I was going to live forever. Me, thinking my body was going to remain in its current state. Somehow, I believed I was tougher than I am. I remember making fun of the older generation when I was younger, saying stupid things like, “That will never be me!” In some ways, I was correct, and in others, I was utterly wrong. It turns out I am worse. Some of those folks are still around. They look at me with those tired eyes that have seen far too much. Yet, there is an understanding behind them. This understanding, a nod, and a slight smile welcomed me to a group I never thought I deserved to be a member of.
Here we are, three weeks into it. My life changed forever. I have to make some adjustments in how I do things. That ought to be fun. I have new prescriptions, new doctors, and new challenges. I never much thought about dying. I figured it was one of those things that came in the night without warning. You know, the reaper sneaking up on you because he was too much of a punk to face you head-on. Turns out the reaper is no punk.
So, this evening, I sit writing about the madness I’m in the middle of. I’m thinking about how foolish I’ve been. I’m thinking about how it began as a mistake. How I wish I could tell my parents, I got it. It makes sense now. I just hope they read my blog wherever they are. I’m thinking about how I had my whole life to prepare for this moment and why aren’t I ready? Yeah, the shit just got real!
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
PROSE – REFLECTION
I wish I had a wonderful, delightful tale about this title, but I don’t. Unfortunately, I’m unable to offer the sorted adventure due to one fact. I don’t remember a thing from that night. I went so far as to ask friends for their account of the evening’s activity. Nothing!
The overall opinion of the everyone involved that night is the following:
“Man, I can’t tell you,” one said, as he shook head with I can only describe as look of shame on his face. I immediately thought the worst.
“Man, tell me.” I exhaled deeply squaring myself, “I can take it.” I assured him. He shook me off.
He sat there quietly for several minutes as if he were trying to decide if he was ready to be the herald of bad news. Then, slowly, he began his tale. Quickly, I realized what he was holding back had nothing to do with me.
As I talked to the rest of my buddies their tales were similar. One work up in a tree. Another in a ditch with a woman.
“Really, dude?” I asked. He just nodded
“Name?” I asked, he shrugged.
“Japan, huh?” he asked, I nodded
“Cool, you made out better than we did,” he said, looking up towards the sky as if it had some universal truth waiting to be discovered behind the clouds. I also found myself looking up, searching for what I imagined to be the same thing or some truth completely different. Neither, I can be certain about. Then I heard his voice bringing me back.
“You can’t remember anything, brother…blessing…no shame” he said.
If you are certain age, you may recognize the title of this peice. It was a horror film from the seventies. Back when there good or I was young and didn’t know any better. I choose this title because I want my ideal home to completely the opposite of what the house in that film represented.
For those of you who are familiar on how I do things here, get ready we are about to kick things off. For those who are new, things may get weird so prepare yourself. Snacks are in the cupboard. I believe that a few throw pillows in the hall closet. There’s a popcorn tin to the right. Three different flavors I might add. The grandchildren no I’m a sucker for popcorn.
Look around you, there are wall to wall books from every region of the world. All of them writtem in the language of their origin. There they are just waiting to be read by you, by me, by everyone. Now, I understand some of you folks have come here for ole`Mangus to tell you a story. Well alright then, let’s get to it.
Look in front of you, down the dark walkaway through the door. You don’t see anything? Look again.
There’s nothing to worry about … come on
Within these walls we have the ability to have anything we desire. All that is required is to write the sentence, tell the story, dream. My ideal home is a house of magic.
The sun has set, signaling the end of a wonderous day. Nothing particular happened, but it just felt good all around. In the spirit of this, let’s speak plainly and talk about this prompt. Let me remove my mask for a while, just to prove to myself I’m human after all. Regarding this prompt, I am trying to understand why I blog—at least, not a hard, fast answer. One I say with any confidence of its truth because it’s complicated.
So come on in and have a seat. I have a lot to say, but I’ll hurry every chance I get. Welcome to the regions of my mind. A hideaway, if you will. Don’t mind the skulls; there are totems of my former glory long past. This blog, at least a version of it, has been around for over a decade. I know it’s hard to imagine it’s been that long, and I created it. However, two things occurred which has changed this blog forever.
I had decided to get writing publicly last year but took my time pulling the trigger. My lady requested I increase my online presence, which I agreed to only to end the conversation. I figured my success would be fleeting. I explained this absurd request to my longtime editor, and she agreed with my lady. “What will it hurt? she said, or some madness close to that. So, I started posting. I received more traffic in the first thirty days than in the previous decade.
Despite this success, I wasn’t convinced I had what it took to grow and maintain an audience. I spend a ridiculous amount of time figuring out the magic formula to make a blog popular. My number kept climbing, but I still worried about the stats obsessively. I had to quantify my efforts. I sat at my desk saying WTF am I doing wrong? The answer was the simplest one I’ve answered all year. It’s shameful when I think about it, how it sat there in front of me the entire time. I kept looking every place else for what I needed; instead, where I needed to look.
If you are a fraud or don’t believe in what you are writing, it comes through in the writing. So, I took a step back and started writing what I knew: pain and turmoil. Some of you might remember it was a gut-wrenching couple of weeks. This blog is a place where I get to face my demons head-on. I slay them at times; at others, they slew me. However, each time, I continue to fight. I don’t know any other way. It was how I was raised; I see no fault in it.
So, here we are then, you and I, faithful readers, your support is greatly appreciated. You have done more for me than any pill or therapy session. Here, I dive into the darkness of myself, my monster, and come right along with me. Such brave souls. The cool stuff, the part that’s the shit, Is you allow me to read you. I get a glimpse of the world through your eyes.
I often wondered: With the world as big as it is, why do we insist on living it so small? As I sat formulating this very sentence I’m typing, my eyes were closed momentarily, and a smile crept across my face while thinking of the countries I’ve read today. It’s staggering, to say the least. Each picture, word, sentence, meme, or prayer has the potential to touch so many. It may be the thing that makes the difference in someone’s life, and you have no way of knowing. That’s okay.
We tell our stories and strengthen the people we touch. I’m sorry, folks, that’s some beautiful shit, and I got to be a part of that. I had no idea it was going to be like this …
My Lady and My Editor might be geniuses … for real!
I sit thinking about the question before me. As usual, I overthink everything. Qualification is a necessity before answering the simplest question: insanity, a worthy description of my state of being and actions. I believe I’m slow dancing on the edge, but I’m drowning in the middle of an abyss I conjured.
The only thing that keeps me going is my grit. My ability to withstand all I subject myself to. No person has the power to affect you unless you allow them to. Yes, the power they have over you was gifted to them by you. I know, right? That’s the rub. Understanding this concept is the easy part.
Regaining your power won’t be easy. It may be the hardest thing we have to do.
Learn to swim …
I’ll see you in the deep end. I’ll be the guy struggling just like you.
Somewhere in the admist these series of events called life, I began to believe a lie. No, no, no not a lie told to me. I wish it was that easy, something that simple. You can shrug those off if you want. You can justify the reasons why a person lied to you. But, the lies you tell yourself are permanent; at least they seem that way. No matter how hard you try. No matter how many lies you tell to hide the first.
Looking back, I can remember when I first uttered the lie. I was filled with conviction and promise. I meant everything I said at the time. Yet, I can’t recall when it became a lie. Some may question whether it was ever truth. It was. That much I’m sure of, I meant with everything I had in me. Slowly, without noticing, I had become a bald-faced lie.
If you won two free plane tickets, where would you go?
PROSE – CHALLENGE
I’ve mentioned before I hardly take any time off. When, I do I typically don’t go anywhere. I sit at home and get lost in the pages of a good book. Yet the idea of winning tickets to go anywhere is tempting. Immediately, the old song of Eddie Money pops into my mind.
I have always heard there’s a reason for everything. I always viewed as one of those things people say when don’t anything better to say. For a lot of folks that atitude is perfectly fine. The necessity to drive deeper into an issue or situation isn’t a requirement and there’s nothing wrong with that.
For many years, professionally, I needed to answer to those kinds of questions. I had to get to bottom of situations or problems in order to provide possible resolutions to them. If I’m being honest, some of the reasons for certain situations didn’t make sense then; they don’t make sense still.
I live a different life now,. There’s a reason has taken a different meaning for me. Wait, a different spin, yes I like that phrase better. Since, babbled on about who I was before, lets talk about who I am now. Hopefully, its itzy bit more entertaining .
Photographer:
What was the reason I took this shot at this particular angle? or this one?
I can’t remeber the reason I took them this way. Honestly, I can’t remember if I even cared. Typically, when I take pictures, I allow the moment to speak to me. I’m surprised of the shots I get when I download them onto my computer.
Writer:
I never know what word is coming until it comes. Sometimes, I’m as surprised of what omes out of me as the reader. There are times when I read a written piece it feels as if I was readng it for the first time.
It’s almost if the characters I create have their own lives. It feels at times , my job is just to record my characters truth. I know these things sound a little odd. But I suppose that’s okay. After, living a life like I have, a little whimsy is tolerated.
What daily habit do you do that improves your quality of life?
PROSE – DAILY PROMPT
Allow me a moment to consider which one of my daily habits improves my quality of life …hmm
Is it reading the news? nope
Posting on my blog? nah
This is more difficult than I imagined…
I have it now…
Mounds and mounds of it
Although, I need it. I understand that it benefits humanity if I drink it regularly. I’m not quite sure they say this, but I hear it a lot. So, there may be something to it.
This shouldn’t be a difficult question, but as I consider a response to this daily prompt, the difficulty has begun to rear its ugly head. The three-eyed gnarly creature and its rotten tooth cousin doubt fester, making me weak and powerless. Yet, desperately, I wage war against myself to write the whispering verses I hear throughout most days. But I’m more than a little curious about how this post will end.
The Night has come. I close my eyes and envision the stories the words have whispered throughout the day. I sway to the waves of darkness. My lips moistened by “the ballad of stillness.” as I await its return. Writing is what I’m here for. Writing is what I crave. I write to claim the sanity that is mine.
I feel my monster stirring, preparing to drag me down another hole. Can someone feed this monster while I string the words together as I rapidly approach the bottom? Our blades are drawn, my katana versus his scimitar. Our swords clang as they slice the air. Each wound releases our demons. Demons, we don’t want to know. Yet, we ignore the pain, the truth, and smile.
The monster whispers, “Help me if you can?”
“Kick rocks!” I reply
The monster pleads, “Write me a lullaby.”
Let me ask you a question? Has anyone ever seen a monster pout? He even had his bottom shot out. That crusty, gnarled-up thang. Definitely, not a good look. Because I’m a dick, I sang an enthusiastic rendition of Drowning Pool’s “Tear Away.”
You know this bastard had the nerve to weep? When did crying monsters become a thing? Soft-ass monsters? That’s some bullshit! I going to need his bitch ass to get it together. Without him haunting me, driving me further into the bowls of madness. I will burn all my journals, for I won’t confess anymore. I can no longer bury my secrets in shame. This is where I draw the line.
Wait, the dawn is coming. This whiny asshat has kept me up all night. Is this my future? Is my journey to sanity haunting me? For my monster is sleeping. My body, my spirit, awaits the caress of Slumber. I slip into her arms and surrender. To be soothed, even if it’s for a short while. This is my favorite part of the day . I sleep as the world awakens. For a few hours, I bask in the nature of daylight. …its 5 am
The thing I love about my neighborhood is the sense of community. Everyone is struggling in one way or another, but somehow, we come together in times of need. Today, I witnessed a local church hand out school supplies to its members.
Sometimes, out of nowhere, things like this happen.
Now, I’m the only one who’s plays rock & roll in my neighborhood, but the sentiment is sound.
I have created several EPs over the years, personal and professional. I have inspected several on a professional setting. Through all of that, I discovered a method that has worked the best for me.
P – Primary
A – Alternate
C – Contingency
E – Emergency
As I work through the different items necessary to accomplish the overall goal. I used this to ensure I had most of my bases covered. I hope this helps you guys as much as it has me.
What is the most important thing to carry with you all the time?
PROSE – REFLECTION
On a table, items are lined up in a certain order. These are the things I take with me each day. The items on the table may change for time to time depending on what is in store for the day. However, there are certain things that I carry regardless.
To answer this question, I suppose line them up; spread them out, look at them individually making a determination of their importance. Then perhaps them in some sort of order. I’m not sure which sorting method I’m going to use, but that’s not what important at the moment.
If I know myself, I’d like to think I got a pretty good handle of who I am. Though I admit I surprise myself now and again. I’d asking the question, “How did things get this way?”
Now I know the purpose of every item on the table and why its there. My question of how? Is simply an exercise of gaining the understanding how these items became important enough to make to the table. If you look at it, something as simple of a yes or no could have altered the way I do things.
An altered decision of undefined place in time, could possibly alter the items on the table. A black pen could be blue, wristwatch instead of pocket watch, etc,. It’s becomes clear to me, none of the items on the table are that important. For they could be changed by answers to questions I didn’t know to ask.
So, what is my most important thing to carry with me daily?
My humanity
No matter what goes on, I still must be truest form of myself.
When I think about the professions that make a difference, what comes to mind are teachers, doctors, and stuff. However, I attended a concert last week where the lead singer took a moment to recognize the personnel who spent all day in the heat setting up everything. I liked that a lot.
So, this morning, I took a different approach to answering this question. I decided to choose a profession that is seldom heard or talked about. As I began thinking about the question, I realized there are far too many unspoken professions. So let’s do this…
If you work behind the scenes or rarely get credit for the things you do.
This Bud for you …
Respect
So many prominent people get their moment in the spotlight. It’s time for the people who shape the world to get some props. I’ve been one of you my whole life. So were my parents and most of my friends. So, this tribute is genuine.
What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?
PROSE – INTROSPECTION
I completely misread this question. So, I spent the last few hours formulating an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. I’m taken back a bit by my actions. I’ve ranted at great length about people’s responses about the things I say. Especially when they miss something or don’t allow me to finish my statement. To their defense, I’ll admit there are times I can be a tad loquacious. So, tuning me out may be a survival mechanism. I get it.
Over a decade ago, the trend was every writer needed a blog or website if they were serious about writing. I haven’t met any writer who wasn’t serious about writing. No matter the degree of skill or dedication, no writer wants to be excused for not being serious about the craft. I suppose there may be some. I haven’t met them, and I’m okay with that.
If you’re still reading, I know it’s taking a minute to get to whatever point I’m trying to make, but I’ll get there as soon as I can. I think the problem resides in the fact I wasn’t aware it needed to be anything more than what it is. However, now that it’s been brought up, let me work my way through this sticky wicky.
Now, I’m going to give a bit of history of Khan before he was Khan. If that even a thing? I dated a girl once, and I believed she was my girlfriend. I say I believe because when you’re a teenager, the girls set your relationship status. You have no say in the matter; even if you had something to say, I doubt they actually pay attention.
There was a lot of talking on the phone and promises made with the purest intentions. If I’m not mistaken, love might have been used on occasion. It was all quite innocent, really. Cute even, TV movie cute. I wrote her a letter, we did those things back then. We wrote down our thoughts and feelings, put them in an envelope, and mailed them. Then, waited on pins and needles, hoping their response was something favorable.
Her response wasn’t ideal by any stretch of my imagination, but what it did do was unlock Khan. For this, I’m indebted.
As it relates to the question…
What change or impact do I want my blog to make? This can’t be my focus. The change or impact of my blog has very little to do with me. My focus must be this…
My focus must be to write these feelings, ramblings, and rants. I’ve committed myself to sharing them. Their impact is beyond my control.
I read this question and begin to laugh. I can’t remember the last time I needed 30 things to make me happy. I’ve overheard conservation dealing with this subject, where the overall opinion if you couldn’t name a certain ridiculous number things you weren’t a happy person.
As I walked away, feeling joy for dodging a bullet. Being assimilated into the Borg, has been a goal of mine. Yet, I knew I couldn’t name the required amount of things. What did this say about me? Am I not a happy person?
Okay, I admit I’m a bit of a frowner, but come on! A sad sack?
So I came up with a list for various topics I’ve heard people talking about.
Top 5 Jobs regardless of the time period
The 5 Best Albums of 1973
Top 5 Tombstone inscriptions
Yes, I know those list are ridiculous, however there was a time in my life where I considered these might important to know at some point. Yet, I find them no more than zany than needing 30 items that make you happy. I concede it appears to avoiding the question for some reason. I’m not I assure you.
Life – appreciating all the things has to offer and doing my best to wisdom from them.
Love – isn’t there a song explaining this one
Music – One of the magnificent about life is music.
A good pen – There are few things better than a good pen. Yes, I have a preferred rotation of writing instruments fitting this criteria.
A proper notebook – This has proven time and time again more difficult than it should. Due to this, I make my own.
Spiral so it will lay flat.
Hard cover at least on the back
28lbs paper preferred, 24 lbs in a pinch.
Now, I’m aware that 28lbs paper officially makes me bougie. Whatever.
I live a simple, a few frills life. Or at least these are things the things I tell myself as attempt justifying to myself the expensive of a new piece of tech.
How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?
PROSE – RANDOM THOUGHTS/CHALLENGE
When I read this question, I thought about Raymond Carver’s short story “Cathedral”. I remember by the end of that story, I wondered who was really blind? The sighted man? Or the blind man? What doesn’t a sighted person really see? In so many regards, there is a tremendous world available to us, yet we limit ourselves to very little of it. As I write this I still wonder.
A physical description will do you no good. However, allow me to take a few moments to tell who I am, not what I look like.
I’m the one who broods silently in the corner. You know I will be there if needed, but I will not impede you. You get sense of my size by the depths of my breathing. You’ll get I’m a troubled man by my breathing tempo.
I tell you I live by a simple code, this may seem ludicrous, but it’s true. I will lie for another, yet I won’t lie for myself, despite the cost. I’ve lost everything, yet I’ve gained so much.
One who walks the halls of darkness, leads this troubled soul to the light.
For years, I acted a certain way because I thought that was the expectation. Sadly, I discovered no matter how you act or what you do, people will complain about something. By my rationale, if they’re going to complain anyway, you might as well be true to yourself as much as possible. I concede there are situations where being yourself is not the appropriate action. If you have no idea what I’m referring to, be thankful, and you are blessed.
Typically, health is addressed with a proper diet and exercise. I agree with this mindset overall. However, some things cause me concern. I feel every diet and exercise program should tailored to the individual. Yes, there are tried and true methods, yet we are different. So why should we attempt to place everyone in the same categories? I think we should be mindful of these things, developing a program for ourselves or others.
I tend to focus on the mental aspect of things: mind, body, and spirit philosophy. I have found consistently over several decades if I work to maintain a proper mindset, everything else falls into place. This state of being isn’t automatic; it’s consistent enough to keep using. I admit I fail miserably at times. We are human, right?
I remember attending the matinee and watching Bruce Lee do his thing. This fueled my newfound obsession with the martial arts. I learned about Jim Kelly. He was in one of Bruce’s movies. I was blown away. The whole “Black guy” doing karate thing. Then we had that song “Kung-fu Fighting,” just finished me off.
I never saw a video for this song until today…wow
What I learned from my studies is to exercise patience and restraint. I’ve considered this concept to be one of the keys to success in life. I found it works despite your social-economic standing. Over the years, I have heard a multitude of phrases or slogans covering various aspects of life. However, I have found patience and restraint provided the most significant measure of success overall. I am a self-proclaimed knucklehead and, at times, a jackass, so this hasn’t been the most effortless journey for me. Yet, I keep trying.
In conclusion, I feel a person’s mental and physical health are connected. I have to remember that. It’s such a simple thing. When I think about the numerous times I have lost sight of that, I feel idiotic. Yet, I maintain faith in this practice.
I have no future plans for traveling; I have entirely too much work to do. This place will fall apart without me. I said something similar to that to my lady during a conversation about me taking a break. Mind you, I was snapping over the slightest things and just an all-out pain in the ass. Now, my lady isn’t above giving me a good dose of what for if it calls for it. But that day, she simply reiterated her previous statement but put a little stank on it.
I caught the tone but went into a whole thing about my old truck not being road trip worthy. I thought it would end the conversation, and I could return to preparing for the next day’s work. Looking back, I wonder why I ever thought that reason was fly. It’s not like we started dating and we ridiculously understanding about everything. Nope, we’ve been at this for a while, and then I received the patented, often lamented, you’re a jackass look.
Her response was simple, “You know there are such things as rental cars, right?”
Typically, while working at my day job. I listen to a book whether it be a short story, novel, or essay. I do this to assist in practicing my active listening skills. I listen to both fiction and non-fiction. I pay attention to the story, plot, and structure.
This habit also assists in writing. On breaks I sit and close my eyes. I try to create an image in my mind. I’ve found in incidents where I can’t create in my mind. I stopped the book and tried to create the scene on paper. This is a writing exercise I’ve found useful in my own writing.
I read somewhere if you can’t see; delete it. Since I started working on screenplays several years, I found advice to be quite accurate. Happy writing everyone. If you’re a different sort of creative type leave your techniques in the comments below. I’m interested in learning new things.
I’ve lived long enough to develop and fine-tune my daily routine. I’ve lived long enough to have grown tired of said routine. So, you spice it up by changing your brand or flavor of coffee. Get your muffin from a different bakery. There are so many acceptable variations to the daily grind.
However, as we fine-tune things, we discover certain things that are acceptable variations under any circumstances. An example of most things concerning my cat, Sophie. Sophie really isn’t the hissing kind, so when she does, there’s trouble in Demark, as some folks say. Then she typically gives Ghost, the neighborhood cat, and swat with a calibrated hiss for effect.
Soph’s is a little perturbed because I switched to bargain cat food to save a little coin, but dealing with grief wasn’t worth it. I made matters worse by switching to a Jamicain blend of coffee. As it brewed, she sniffed the air, gave me a short hiss, and whined. So I dumped the pot and made her favorite.
You’re probably wondering why I would dump a perfectly good pot of coffee. I didn’t care much myself. I picked it up in the clearance basket right after I thought I caught a deal on the cat kibble. It appears I missed on both accounts. So, being quite pleased with myself, not, I belt out a healthy dose of expletives, capping it off with, “That’s that bullshit!” I continued muttering something under my breath, what I’m not sure, I’m always running my mouth, and no telling what passed these lips.
We do this routine every day. Coffee, curse, and repeat
In this world, everything is shiny and new in 5 easy steps. It is hard to see or understand what is real and what is fake. People can flash an award-winning smile without even thinking about it. It is almost second nature. To be clear, I’m not referring to the genuinely happy people. They are special and shouldn’t be confused with the others.
I’m also not talking about the people who we know are obviously fake. They are easily spotted; they have plastic smiles and spew prattle like its a lifestyle as if they get a few dollars off for the crap that comes out of their mouths. Only to be recognized at the end of the banquet hosted at HoJo’s. I heard it isn’t bad; the continental breakfast is to die for. I hear they have real eggs and fresh pastries.
I’m talking about the people we wouldn’t suspect. The people we trusted got to know and had over for cards. They have babysat your children and you theirs. They have been such a positive light in your life. If anyone were to say different, you have words. However, there are times when you discover something unnerving about them. Something so unsettling it’s simply unbelievable. Cognitive dissonance comes to mind when thinking about this scenario.
Cognitive dissonance is the mental discomfort that results from holding two conflicting beliefs, values, or attitudes. People tend to seek consistency in their attitudes and perceptions, so this conflict causes unpleasant feelings of unease or discomfort.
PROSE – RANDOM THOUGHT asked this question earlier in the week. I would have a list of things I’m an authority. I would have said it with a level of confidence, leaving you without doubt of my ability to perform or know whatever I said. Good thing I wasn’t asked earlier I’ve never been a fan of lying to people.
First, I would have rattled off being to your passions. Explore them with enthusiasm. Don’t hold back for a moment. When it’s all said and done, you can you did it right. Some would include having no regrets; they can shut up now. If you have no regrets, you ain’t doing right. Now, cut that shit out. It’s okay to be truthful; it’s okay to be authentic.
Secondly, Love Hard. I mean, give it everything you got, full throttle with 1000hp, baby! If you don’t understand the metaphor, put simply, if you love someone? Mean, that shit! Don’t half-ass a second. Trust me; you’ll regret it even if they break your heart and grind you into the sand, blow granules in your face. You will know you have done it right.
Alas, the question was posed much later. Although, I still firmly believe everything I previously stated. Damn straight! Every word! However, I’m no longer an authority in such matters. As of late, I’ve unwittingly become an authority on disappointment.
More precisely, the disappointment of others. I see their looks as I pass by. I hear the contempt in their voices when they utter my name. It isn’t something I set out to do. It just seem to happen.
So many things flood my mind when thinking about this question. I literally sat down and made a list. After laughing about the ridiculous nature of the things I listed. I remembered how I was as a young man. How every little thing pissed me off. The monster and I had reached puberty. It’s bad enough to deal with teenage emotion on its own. However, I had an accidental passenger, think Venom, from the comics and movies.
MTV had become a thing, and many evenings were spent listening to the music of the time. One of these nights, I heard a song that changed my life. Yes, I know how much that sounds like a cliche, but I’m serious. Elvis Costello was on the screen doing his thing. I’ve been a fan ever since. He accompanied me on every deployment. His music has gotten me through some tough spots. What does this have to do with the question?
The song that changed my life is “What’s so funny about (Peace, Love, and Understanding).” I understand it more and more as I get older. It’s not that the song has gotten better or changed; I did. I realize I have more peace, love, and understanding as I get older. I hope society gains more of this than I did.
I’ve been under the blade a few times in my short time on this side of the veil. I’m not precisely accident-prone but in the words of Pop. “If you gonna do anything, do it right.” I might as well scream at the top of my lungs, “Yes sir!” like those military folks in boot camp. You know, as you see on the shows.
Today, I’d like to direct your attention 1976. I was a wee lad. I hadn’t graduated from Wrigley’s to Bazooka Joe yet. Col. Steve Austin was on the airwaves doing fantastic with his bionic parts. So, I ran around making sounds heard every time he used his bionics.
I thought this was so cool
As it happens, 1976 was the year Kurt Thomas competed in the Summer Olympics. I watched that guy do his thing, and I was floored. He was so good; my grandma let me watch him every time he was on the TV. Now this was a woman who firmly believed in children going outside to play. I can only think of one exception; rain “cause you’d catch cold.”
You see that? Badass
So, at the start of the school year, I decided to show off my new gymnast skills. These skills comprised doing a back flip off the swing set and crossing the creek on a fallen tree. Now this didn’t qualify me to become a gymnast by any stretch, but by God, not a soul was going to me any different.
In gym class, I decided to jump off the top of the jungle gym. The first time was a disaster; I didn’t nail the landing. I fell back, can you believe it? Just shameful. The second attempt was perfect dismount; since I failed the first time, I went for broke. I did a triple somersault with a one-half twist. That’s right, un-huh, I was showing out. Perfect execution. I nailed the landing. Things went to hell from there.
Well, I broke my hip. I can only remember fragments of that period, but I can remember hollering as they rolled me to surgery, “I don’t want a bionic leg!”, “I don’t want to be the Six Million Dollar Man.” I ended up in traction, then a body cast. Good times for all, especially my mother because had to change my bedpan.
What could you let go of, for the sake of harmony?
PROSE – RANDOM THOUGHT/ DAILY PROMPT
I constantly think the monster I reside within is in control of every decision I make. I’m aware this doesn’t make sense to most, but I will my best to have make sense. Before I’ve blogged about being my monster’s prisoner. However, in that post, I wasn’t exactly truthful. I didn’t exactly tell it straight. I played with words rearranged them for the sake of cleverness or for the sake of attempting of being cool.
The truth can be the hardest hammer known. Or touch with the gentliest touch. The gentle touch, part is something I read about somewhere. I’d would like to think it exists, but unfortunately it hasn’t been my experience.
Today, I realized something about myself. Accepting the truth of is one of the most painful things I’ve experinced in awhile. I’d like to walk upon a Djinn, so they could grant me three wishes. However, I only need one. I’d wish I could someone worthy of respect and be treated with dignity.
Yet, I know it. doesn’t work that way. I can’t rid of my monster side. Nor, can I even hid it. For it’s all that I am. I would gladly surrender it for the sake of harmony
It’s sometimes hard to come up with one name. To narrow down contributions to humanity to a single name. I have categories where people of history fell into. It’s an organizational thing, something I picked up from watching Sesame Street.
This is where it started. Now everything is a category. So to answer this question without driving myself completely crazy, I’ve chosen the writing category. Now my favorite across all forms, genres, and types of writing is Gwendolyn Brooks.
If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?
PROSE – SHORT FICTION /MAYBE?
Allow me to start here. Most of you have gotten to know Mangus Khan. It’s a little much, I know, at the start, but it kind of rolls off the tongue once you get used to it. However, I feel it may be time to reveal my true identity. My name is …
Before we move forward, let me provide some context to avoid confusion. I am an immortal.
As an immortal, I have lived for centuries and witnessed many events in history. I have gained knowledge and experience beyond what any mortal can imagine. I can see the way you’re looking at me. If I were you, I would looking at me in the same manner. I suppose you have watched some of those movies attempting to discuss immortality. No? let us assume you have seen at least one and allow me assure you my life has been that glamourous.
However, my immortality comes with a price. I have watched friends die. The chap the Raminez character was based on, he too, was an immortal. He loved life more than anyone my path has crossed. I was present the day … well, he crossed over. I died that day as well. You see, when I came back from the darkness I found my friend headless leaning against a stump. It was then I knew I was destined to be alone.
Yet, I was blessed and fell in love that year. Our love was forbidden and certainly unwise. When she crossed over I was broken. Yet, I remain unchanged. well at least outwardly. It can be a lonely existence at times, but I have learned to appreciate the beauty and wonder of life despite its fleeting nature and shattered heart.
Throughout my many years, I have seen the world change in countless ways. I have witnessed wars and revolutions, the rise and fall of civilizations, and the evolution of technology and culture. I have also seen the best and worst of humanity, from acts of kindness and compassion to unspeakable acts of cruelty and violence.
Despite all of this, I have remained a mere observer of history, a passive witness to the events that have shaped our world. It is only recently that I have decided to again take a more active role in shaping the course of history, using my knowledge and experience to make a positive impact on the world.
And that is where you come in. As an assistant, I am here to help you achieve your goals and make a difference in the world. Whether you are an individual seeking personal growth and fulfillment, or an organization working to make a positive impact on society, I am here to support you every step of the way.
So, let us work together to achieve greatness and make the most of our time in this world. What can I assist you with today?
There is something about taking a drive. A full tank of gas packed lunch, and your camera and notebook. It’s a sense of freedom; at least, that’s the phrase I’ll use as I sit here talking to you. I suppose it’s as good as any, to really explain this feeling I get when taking a drive. It’s a chance to explore, clear your mind, and, just for a moment, set aside the stresses of everyday life. And having your camera and notebook with you allows you to capture the magic.
There’s no better way to appreciate the beauty of nature and the world around you than to take a leisurely drive, at least I don’t know if any. Maybe one or two others come to mind if I think on it a spell. But, nothing beats a drive. Whether through winding country roads, along the coast, or through the mountains, a scenic drive can be a truly unforgettable experience. Let us not forget, a drive through the city after dark. Another side of life seems to come alive in the night; after dark. One must be careful you may see things you may never have known existed.
But it’s not just about the destination; it’s also about the journey. Taking a drive can be a chance to reflect on your life, think about your goals and dreams, and enjoy the present moment. It’s a form of self-care that can help reduce stress, improve your mood, and boost your creativity.
In fact, many writers, artists, and photographers have used driving to inspire their work. The freedom of the open road allows them to escape the distractions of everyday life and focus on their craft. And with a camera and notebook, they can capture their thoughts and ideas as they come to them.
But even if you’re not a writer or artist, taking a drive can still be a valuable experience. It’s a chance to unplug from technology, connect with nature, and appreciate the simple pleasures in life. And with the flexibility of driving, you can make the experience your own. You can stop at a roadside diner for a classic burger and fries, take a detour to visit a local attraction, or simply park by a scenic overlook and watch the world go by.
So next time you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed, why not take a drive and see where the road takes you? You never know what new experiences, sights, and insights you may discover. Perhaps, a fond memory or recollection will be unlocked evoking a smile.
Harold Shea is an ordinary fellow, as fellows go. He has no grand stories about this girl or that girl. He is a simple chap who eats tuna on toasted rye. Harold and I are clerks at the Ministry of Useless Facts and Random Memories. A person becomes a clerk if they have a knack for remembering and cataloging trivial information. Our job is to sift through old documents and archives, searching for forgotten tidbits of knowledge that may one day prove useful.
Harold is a diligent worker, and he takes pride in his work. He always arrives early and stays late, poring over old manuscripts and dusty tomes. He has a particular fondness for historical trivia and, from time to time, found regaling his coworker Venus Milo with tales of obscure battles and forgotten rulers.
Despite his unremarkable nature and unassuming demeanor, Harold is a valuable member of our team. Without his tireless efforts, many of the useless facts and random memories that we collect would be lost to the sands of time.
Harold is also a kind and thoughtful person. He is always willing to lend a helping hand to his coworkers. Last week, for instance, one of our colleagues was struggling to find a particular piece of information for a project. Harold spent hours searching through old records until he found what she was looking for. He did all of this without expecting anything in return.
Despite his many admirable qualities, Harold is not without his quirks. For one thing, he can be a bit absent-minded at times. On more than one occasion, he has misplaced important documents or forgotten to submit reports on time. However, his forgetfulness is more than made up for by his enthusiasm and dedication.
Everything changed about six months ago. I came into the office, and everyone was in a tizzy. It isn’t like it was the first time the office was in this state. Harold usually got things in order rather quickly. However today, no Harold. He has never been late a day in thirty years. I tended to the disaster but never took my mind off what could have possibly happened to Harold. Then I was called into the Director’s office.
“Thank you for sorting out that dreadful mess.” said the Director
“It was nothing, Ma’am,” I replied.
“Harold?” She asked. I shrugged and walked out.
After stopping by Harold’s weekly for the next six months, I received a package at the Ministry. The package sat on my desk for another month before I remembered it. When I opened the package, there was a letter from Harold.
Dear Seamus, I know this package has been sitting on your desk for about a month. I’m well. Venus and I have retired and living in my favorite place. Do you remember? Of course you do, you don’t forget anything. I miss you, ole chap. I haven’t had a decent conversation in months. Perhaps, you can down and keep Venus and me company.
~H
Well, that rascal, I thought. I had no idea that he and Venus had a thing. Why wouldn’t he tell me?
I guess there are a lot of things to consider when you’re thinking about “Pulling the Pen.”
Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?
The only thing I can remember about my childhood reading is the name of two books. Surely I read more; however, their titles escape me presently.
Encyclopedia Brown – Boy Detective (1963)
Though I can’t read anything significant about the book, I can remember my friends and me running around trying to solve mysteries. We had little notebooks filled with ciphers and observations. It was all quite innocent, really, perhaps a little comical even.
The Westing Game (1978)
I can’t recall whether or not I ever finished reading this book, but I remember enjoying the experience. Recently, I considered rereading the book to satisfy the gap in my memory. I’ve been thinking of revisiting some books from the past. I wonder if they will have the same effect they previously had.
Snowball fights and Snow Angels playing for hours, we never seemed to get tired. Never seemed to get cold. Our mothers told us to come inside and warm up.
There’s something about the winter
There’s a stillness that comes in the winter night the sir is crisp, it’s chill prickly Yet, there’s a peacefulness in the hush though we not know what lurks in the dark.
List three books that have had an impact on you. Why?
I laughed when I read this question, then questioned the air, “How in all that is holy, going to limit the list to three.” I paused, waiting for an answer. The air remained silent to spite me. Then I realized I needed to pick three books, not the three that impacted me most. I shook my head, chuckling slightly, remembering that “Reading is Fundamental,” and then began to make a proper list.
After settling on a few parameters, I could narrow things down to twenty. Yes, I know, twenty is not three; I continued trudging forward despite this. Here’s what I have come up with so far. They aren’t listed in the order of importance.
The Green Mile – To be haunted by the actions of your past. To see everything you know and love die. To be left on this earth and witness their demise. One realizes the dead were the lucky ones. To feel the blessing of a long life is a curse. Perhaps, a punishment for a hideous act.
Invisible Man – In this novel, we follow the actions of an unnamed protagonist living in a society that chooses not to recognize him as a man. The winner of the National Book Award in 1953, this novel should depict an outdated social construct, but it doesn’t, sadly.
11/22/63 – In this book addresses something we all may have wanted to do from time to time. A chance to go back in time and change something we have done. However, the most powerful part for me, was how it laid out the hazards of time travel. I will continue working on the time machine in my basement.
Three honorable mentions:
Count a Lonely Cadence – Taps is still the loneliest sound I have ever heard.
Bad Haircut – It brought back some good memories.
Devil in the Blue Dress – I love the character Easy Rawlins. If I said I read this book seven times, it would be low.
I wasn’t exactly sure what taglines meant. I looked it up and discovered it means catchphrase or slogan. Huh, ain’t that something.
So I asked a few friends what they would consider to be my catchphrase. Of course, when you involve humans everything becomes more complicated than it needs to be. After, listening to them chuckle to countless number of catchphrases I subject to blurt out at any moment. I decided I needed to change the question.
If you were eulogizing me, what phrase could you say that everyone would recognize?
Instantly, everyone I asked this question had the same answer. This confused me, surely I figured I would a bit of variety, right? Nope, they had the same answer. They also said it wasn’t so much what I had to say, but how I said it. It was even suggested that I write out my facial expressions so people could get a visual on the effects.
the number friend response is …
Kick Rocks!
I considered their response and asked, “Ahh, come again?”
What are the most important things needed to live a good life?
When it comes to living a good life, there’s really no correct answer to that question. It’s really a subjective matter that depends on the individual. Each individual defines what they consider a good life and what it takes to live it.
It seems like it’s a made-up phrase. A slogan found on a t-shirt or in a fortune cookie. As I sit here writing about this subject and you reading it, does this fit your definition of living a good life? Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it? It certainly feels good writing about it.
I’ve spent most of my life conquering fear; at least, I thought so. As a child, we are taught to be tough and not be afraid of anything.
“Are you chicken?”
“What you yella?
Phrases like these quickly appear in my memory when I think of fear. I remember I wanted to be brave, strong, and courageous. For the most part, I feel I accomplished it on some level. I followed the rules and worked hard, volunteering for every crappy assignment to prove to myself and those around me that I feared nothing. Unwittingly, I was actually making a fool of myself. My friends and superiors felt my actions were to curry favor, not prove my courage.
One day in the barracks, I discovered this when I overheard some soldiers discussing my actions. There I was, staring into the face of what I believed to be my greatest fear, mockery. As this continued, I became numb to everything. My attitude damaged my relationship with my wife and children. I had no idea I was suffering from the effects of PTSD. To be honest, I’d never heard of it. Something I regret, I regret it still.
Tragedy and disappointment became my watchwords. However, facing death from something that didn’t carry a rifle became the catalyst of my new mindset. I realized something. I don’t control anything. Then I asked myself, “Why am I trying to conquer an emotion that innate.” So I began to embrace my fear. I took a decade digging into myself, trying to understand my fear. What I figured out was the following:
Once you begin to understand one’s fear, one realizes there is no shame in being afraid. It protects us; keeps us harm.
So, my greatest fear is I’m afraid of being afraid. How I conquered it? I didn’t. I embraced it. Once I accepted this concept, I began to find peace.
How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?
Typically, in conversations like these, I have a long, drawn out story. However, today there is no need for a long bowl when a short one will do.
I can’t imagine a day without reading. Yeah, it’s just that simple. I’ve traveled through time, been around the world, and fell in love without leaving my home office. If I couldn’t write another word, I would just pick up a book. The ability to walk away from a world filled with hollow sentiments and plastic smiles feels amazing. In the words of Tina Turner, “Simply the Best.” To feel that , even if for a little while, means so much.
Like most of us here, we’ve had plenty of jobs before finding the one that stuck. I cringe, thinking about some of the things I did to make money.
However, there is one job I think of fondly. I was a paperboy. If it’s hard to imagine me being a paperboy, let me provide a visual; think of the paperboy in the John Cusack classic “Better Off Dead.”
Let’s take a look, shall we?
Sighs … Me and the gang chasing down deadbeats. The things you remember … The good times…sighs
I come from a time when workaholics ruled. This isn’t spoken from a place of pride but rather a place where, thinking back, I wish I would have made better decisions about the use of my time. There are events I missed out on. Moments I can’t get back. Though I wish I could, but it doesn’t work that way, does it?
One minute, my daughters are playing with dolls, and next, I’m staring into the face of some goofy-looking chucklehead. Who has the sand to mumble something like
“Nice to meet you, Sir. I’m”
I never seem to catch their names. The wife swore it was because I’m a certified asshole when it came to my daughters. When she first said it, I felt wounded. I’m not an asshole; I’m a dick, asshole, no. One day explained this to her for clarity. Her response,
“Yep, you’re a dick, alright.”
I sighed, feeling vindicated. Then she went into a rant as she walked about something I can’t remember. I read somewhere this happens to people who suffer traumatic events. However, I do remember feeling maybe I should have let that one go, and from that point, asshole was just fine.
I was gone a lot for work, then one day, I became Papaw. The oddest thing. Who is this little creature pulling on your finger because their little hands are so small that’s all they can grab ahold of.
Where did the time go? Man, I learned a great deal about life.; its triumphs and pitfalls. I even had an opportunity on occasion to take part in some and prevent some of the others. I’m an old man trying to do his part to make a difference.
So, when it comes to finding the balance? If you figured it out. I mean really got something, don’t say a word until copyrighted and patented. Then, put it up for sale and become an instant millionaire.
Oh yeah, post your links, so I can get my Pre-order in.
The consequences of rum and bad decisions. These consequences are both endearing and fester. Their existence is personal, and they belong to me. I bear the weight of them alone. I’m happy to do it.
Memoirs of Madness 