Winter? Already?

It sleeted on me earlier. It's too early in the year to worry about snow and ice and snow days, but I keep hearing whisperings that it is going to be a bad winter. Oddly enough, the weather is worse farther south than we are. I like winter less and less every year. I love the beauty of a big, wet snow, but not the cold and the ice. I always fear I will get caught at school during an ice storm and have to drive 35 miles home in it. The wind is also howling out there. It is just a cold, dark, wet, miserable night,not fit for man nor beast.

I was reading about a basketball game where one team massacred the other 100 to 2, and the school board was thinking of canceling the winning team's season for poor sportsmanship. As I read the article I discovered that the winning team had stopped their full court press when they went up 20 to zero, and then they played all of their substitutes. What else can they do? Stand around and just hold the ball? The sad truth of life is that there are times in life when you not only lose, but you lose badly. We can't always protect our kids. Losing every once in a while builds character and keeps us humble.

Stephen Crane, known primarily as the author of Red Badge of Courage, also wrote poetry. One of his poems is about a man, who down on his luck, goes up to nature and says, "Sir, I exist." Nature says, "That may very well be true, but it creates in me no sense of obligation whatsoever."

We need to be grateful that we exist, and we should try to make our way in life without trying to make someone take away the bad parts. Life may not be fair all the time, but we should always remember that death is. It treats all of us equally.

It's going to be a long season for Rams' fans.

It's five o'clock, and it seems as if it's been dark for hours. The Rams lost today again, and are now 2-9.  I honestly thought they would do well this year.  In fact, I thought they would win nine.  So much for my prognostication skills.  They are liable to wind up 2 and 14 this year.  The whole staff needs to be fired and about half their players let go.  Then, we start it all over again.  This time we need to get an actual coach with a proven track record.  The Rams have been so discouraging for the last 12, 13 years.  We still have Mizzou which looks to have a decent future.  Mizzou won yesterday.  Its quarterback has a bright future.  As a sophomore he is already playing well.  As far as Bradford is concerned, I have not quite made up my mind.  He has learned two offensive systems in two years, and he has no offensive line to protect him.  We will have to see how he does once he gets an offensive line that can keep him from getting knocked around all the time.  I hope he isn't another Ram draft choice that goes bust and winds up in the mists of obscurity, but instead becomes another Peyton Manning.

I go back to work tomorrow.  I'm not sure exactly what I'll do to slide back into the rhythm of things, but I will do the best that I can.  If I am not mistaken, I have duty.  That would be lovely. (My voice is dripping with sarcasm.)  I don't remember getting a letter stating that I do, but I seem to remember putting it on my calendar.

I need to go.  It's almost time to eat dinner.

Saturday

It is a gray day today.  I think it is supposed to get much colder too.  The lows in the next ten days will be in the 20's and 30's, and we have a chance of snow showers on Monday and Tuesday.  Only one day in the next ten is it supposed to get up to 50 degrees.  I slept 12 hours last night and 11 hours the night before.  Part of the reason I slept late is because of the gray, depressing day, but also, I think I finally collapsed after several days of not sleeping well.  Too much stress for me, and since I have problems with insomnia anyway, the least little bit of stress knocks out my ability to sleep.  I take melatonin, and sometimes that helps.  The last two nights I have taken half a gram (Milligram?) of Xanax.  It is prescribed for me, but I rarely take it.  I don't want to take any more medication than I have to.  Recently, my doctor changed my prescription for my anti-depressant because it was screwing with my heart and giving me what I can only describe as panic attacks.  They weren't bad enough that I couldn't function, but they were certainly keeping me from enjoying my life to its fullest.  Every now and then, the doctors have to tinker with what I call my bipolar cocktail, though what I have is not a full-blown form of bipolar.  However, it is something that can deteriorate into full-blown bipolar if I don't watch it.

Yeah, that's right.  I'm a bit "teched" in the head.  It comes to me via my father's side of the family and is definitely chemical in nature.  Forms of bipolar disorder run in families, and often, a traumatic experience triggers it.  For me, it was in sixth grade when my grandmother died that my problems started, or perhaps, it was in the eighth grade when my friend committed suicide.  I just remember that my junior high years were hell.  With the exception of one or two memories, the years from sixth through tenth grade are a blur.  So much of my life, I have blocked out or forgotten.  It is sad in many ways, but in other ways, I know it is simply my mind trying to protect me.

I didn't mean to make this a therapy session.  I know people have enough of their own problems that they don't need to hear mine.  Oh, well, apparently I needed to say these things.  I don't open up very often.  It frustrates the hell out of my wife.  I guess I don't trust easily.

Yesterday, I opened up a software program I recently purchased called Plot Control.  I have sat on my Dean Knight novel for weeks and not done anything.  Forget NaNoMoWrite or whatever it is because I didn't do it.  The only thing I have really written this month is an article for ACT which was accepted so that helps with income a little bit.  Anyway, back to the subject.  I looked this software over and I think it will be helpful to me in developing my novel if I ever feel like writing on it again.  It is much easier than some things I've seen like dramatica pro.  I have never gotten the hang of it.  If any of you know any good shortcuts or helpful hints for that thing, let me know.  It is just too much for me.  I don't even think I get the general premise of it.  Well, I have rambled on too much.

"The mournful sun hides
its face in veils of gray clouds.
Tears mist the skin
of creation."

Reflections

Two times each year I stop to reflect on my life.  Because of my mother's death, my reflections are starting a little early this year.  Usually, like most people, I take a look back on the year around Christmas and think about what I accomplished, didn't accomplish, readjusted, need to readjust.  I never do New Year's resolutions because I will never complete them.  Sometimes, I do "I would like to's" but that's about as far as I get.  Usually, most of my musings are private, written in my journal, for my eyes only.  I'll do that again this year mostly.  Generally, I am a very private person.  What I write in this blog is a mere fraction of what goes on in my brain.  Never, will I bare my soul as if I am in some therapy session.

Another reflection time for me is around my birthday.  This year I turn ... well, it doesn't matter.  Let's just say I'm not a spring chicken.  My dad turns 80 the day before my birthday.  One of the things I must do this year is think about my priorities and whether they are appropriately ordered or not.  I need to think about my writing.  Should I be thinking about giving up my dreams of writing YA fiction full time.  I am getting older now, and this dream fades a little every year.  It all goes back to the dilemma all of us face in life.  We have obligations we must meet, so we have to have a steady job, but sometimes, in my case especially, my steady job keeps me from following my dreams to the fullest extent.  I love teaching, but it isn't my dream.

So, I'll be thinking about a lot this coming year.  The crossroads are near.

Thanksgiving ... mixed emotions.

Love you, Meemaw

Anyone who has ever lost a loved one near a holiday knows the mixed emotions that come with celebrating that holiday.  It is sometimes easy to forget the purpose of the holiday when you are wrestling with your own emotions, especially when you think that the holiday will never ever be the same again.  Thanksgiving was one of my mom's favorite holidays because it is about family.  Mom was all about family.  Nothing meant more to her than family, and nothing gave her more joy than having the family together.  I know she will not be with family here this Thanksgiving but she will be with her heavenly family.  Since it is Thanksgiving, I want to thank God for the life of my mom.  If everyone whom she had ever touched in a positive way clicked like on this blog, Facebook would crash.  I'm not exaggerating when I say that. Mom's love was like a ripple in a lake; one touch expanding and expanding until the waves from that single touch crash on the banks.  But, she never stopped at one single touch.  She touched hundreds of people in hundreds of different ways.  I am thankful that I was raised by such a loving woman.  Mom didn't just mouth the words, "If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything."  She lived them.  In fact, she went beyond that and spoke kind things about those who did not deserve it.  I think of the saying that you can always add, "Bless his heart." to any kind of insult to make it sound better.  He is such an idiot, bless his heart.   First, my mom would never call anyone an idiot.  Secondly, when she said bless his or her heart, it wasn't an off-the-cuff remark, it was a sincere prayer.

We miss you, Mom, but I know that everytime I see a wave lapping up on the beach that your influence is still working in this world.

Just tired

I am just physically and mentally exhausted. It was a gray day today just as it has been for the last three days since Meemaw died. It is almost as if she has taken the sunshine with her for at least a while. Today, at the cemetery one single bird sang at the graveside service. Geese flew overhead as it ended. My sister said that the first night after Mom's death she couldn't sleep, so she went outside. All three times she went out the geese were flying overhead.

We believe in some strange way that she knew that something might happen. She had set out some years ago to make baby blankets for all of her grandchildren. Megan is not even married yet, but mom worked in advance and got Megan's finished. Some of the squares have hand-painted animals on them. For each she would spend a day painting it. Another thing she did was make memorial wreaths for many of her relatives who are buried in Leadwood Cemetery. Usually, she does these around Christmas, but for some reason she did them early this year.

Mom once dreamed about the new highway 8 before it was even built. I think someone who is especially close to God in the way my mom was might very well be given a little advance notice.

I have decided to go ahead and take the day off tomorrow also. I exhausted, and we only have half a day anyway.

I will return to my usual blog topics in the near future. I need to work out some of my feelings and writing is one of the ways I do it.

Bye Meemaw.

My mom died unexpectedly early Saturday morning.  She was alive and laughing the night before when I visited her.  I asked,  "Mom, how are you feeling."  She said, "Fantastic."  She said it, however, with that kind of false cheer she always used when she didn't want us to worry about her. She was 76 years old.  She and my father, who will turn 80 the day before my 54th birthday in July, have been married for 59 years, through sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better or worse.

It hasn't hit me that she is dead yet, and I'm not sure when it will, but when it does, I don't know how I will be able to tolerate it.  The idea of this saint of a woman being gone, her voice silent from our lives, is something I cannot even begin to get my head around yet.  I don't know that I ever will either.  My mom would do anything for anybody, just like my grandmother before her.  She lived for her family, and every time a grandkid or a great-grandkid would visit, her eyes would sparkle with pure, unadulterated joy.

We went to the funeral home yesterday and picked out a cover for the little program they print out for the funeral.  It was an eagle.  My mom loved all things having to do with nature, and she painted landscapes and scenes with woodland animals everywhere.  We all thought the eagle was perfect.  When I got home, I was sitting on the couch and watching the clouds rush by.  One of them looked like a perfect eagle racing across the sky.  I think God has given my mom wings of eagles, and He was letting me know that.

I know all of my agnostic or atheistic friends will think this silly or perhaps some illusion brought upon by grief.  I don't care.  I can remember my mom telling me about a time when she was a young mother, and she and dad were poor as church mice.  My brother was in diapers, the cloth kind, and they needed to be washed.  However, Mom had no laundry detergent, and she prayed in despair.  In the mail she received a sample of -- you guessed it -- laundry detergent.  I remember her telling me once, "Son, I've read the Bible several times.  What it all boils down to is this, Love God will all your heart and love your neighbor.  That's all there is too it."  Not more than a dozen times in my entire lifetime have I heard her say a cross (no pun intended) word about anyone.

I don't think I can write anymore tonight.  I'm just wrung out.  Pray for my family and me.

Update

This will be short because I am trying to type it with my iPad keyboard. I love my iPad, but I have not quit gotten the hang of typing yet. So as soon as I am able I will get a bluetooth keyboard. Not much has happened today. I have been grading research papers, and mostly my students are getting the basics down. The content is less than stellar, but they are doing well on the MLA stuff.

I thought of a cool cross byte this morning. How does this sound? "The end of the road does not have to be the end of the journey. Brave men have always journeyed even before there were roads."

It looks like we will I've making a trip to Walmart tomorrow. There goes two or three hundred dollars. The bills keep going up, but not my salary. I am working three jobs, but I am always so busy I don't do any of them as well as I could. Alas, it will be my lot in life for at least a few more years. I really want to travel.

People who think they know everything obviously don't. Even I know that.

If those people who think they know everything actually did, then they would realize just how stupid they are. The very fact that they cannot admit to being wrong is the very proof needed to convict them that they are often are.
crossbyte


I'm amazed at the number of people out in the world who can never admit that they are wrong.  It takes an ugly kind of arrogance to believe that there isn't anyone who might know more than you do about something.  Even in matter of opinions, there are those who think their opinion is exclusively correct.  Hamlet said, "There is nothing good or bad; thinking makes it so."  Those words aren't exact but they are close.  I don't actually agree with them, but they are interesting.  Think of how times change.  At one time, it was perfectly acceptable to have more than one wife.  (Why anyone would is beyond my comprehension though.)  It isn't legal anymore in our country anyway, but it is legal in some other countries.  Slavery used to be legal.  Is it right?  No, it isn't.  Perceptions change because people change their minds about things and circumstances change.  If we can't change, we die.  It's as simple as that.


I've been looking at you tube to check out some of the music videos there.  It's amazing what you can find.  For instance, I was looking and found a nearly two hour concert Kiss did with the Australian symphony orchestra.  Kiss -- orchestra?  What's wrong with this picture?  Still, I'm not ashamed to admit I used to listen to them.  Still do every once in a while.  Their music was just fun.  Loud, bombastically so, amoral, full of sex and innuendo, simplistic, but still, I'll belt out "I wanna rock and roll all night long and party every day" at the top of my lungs when I hear it.  BTO is another rock band I still love.  I could give you other examples, but these should suffice.  Many of the rock bands I listened to are still played even though their music is now 40+ years old.  I barely noticed when the rock and roll I listened to in high school became first classic rock and now oldies.  If I had one concert that I could see -- my choice of any group -- it would be Pink Floyd.  Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here are two of my most favorite albums of all time.


I have decided to start from scratch with my YA novel.In the meantime, Lancelot and the Tides of Time is still available.  Order it here:
http://www.buckscountypublishing.com/portal/BookStore/LancelotandtheTidesofTime.aspx

A short goodnight

I have done it.  I ran off the person who was my instructor in my young adult novel writing class.  She left the Children's Institute of Literature to become an instructor in an MFA program.  I am sad that she is not going to be my instructor, but I am happy she has gotten a job she wants.  Now, I have to break in a new instructor.  It's going to be difficult because I don't even know anymore what I am going to write.  I don't know if I'm going to scrap the entire book and try something new. I am just getting at the end of my rope with this novel because I don't know which way to go.

My class went well tonight, but I am extremely tired; plus, my back is barking.  I have a class after school tomorrow also.  I really like it, and it seems to be easier on me for some reason.  It's composition one and is more basic than the comp 2 class.  I don't even like the comp 2 book.  I think by next year I will have developed a several week review of basic grammar, punctuation, and spelling for my composition one class.  Because of the lack of quality writing I am getting, I am going to treat it as a basic writing skills 2 class.  I think I will only be able to do this in my North County classes because I have enough time.

 I wish I could report that I was doing something interesting, but I'm not.  Just trying to keep my head above the rising tide of paper grading I need to do.  This is the one bad thing about teaching.  All of the paperwork.

I could tell you some of the music I'm listening to.  I've decided that I adore Adele's music.  Today, I also revisited Wish You Were Here, by the original Pink Floyd.  Lately, I've spent a lot of time listening to Glen Campbell's new album.  It's haunting, especially since we know he has Alzheimer's.  I also have listened to some brand new groups, for me, like Jem, She and Him, and even Katy Perry.

She's Welsh too

I need to go to bed now.  I'll write at another time.

Checking in

Police are cracking down on the Wall Street Occupiers in different parts of the country.  I hope this whole situation does not disintegrate into uncontrollable violence and riots.  I can understand where the Occupiers are coming from.  I wouldn't call myself poor by any stretch of the imagination, but I feel myself getting stretched tighter and tighter with taxes and other, daily expenses.  I just put $40 worth of gas in my car.  Fortunately, for me, my car gets 27 to 30 miles per gallon, and I save money that way.  Every time, I see prices in the grocery stores go up and see the packages for the groceries get smaller, I fume.  It's almost impossible to get a half gallon of ice cream anymore.  Now, you get three pints, a quart and a half.  I have health insurance provided by my employer, but I pay more and more out of my own pocket every year.  I don't see how people who have no insurance do it.  The problem I see with this whole occupy movement is that it lacks focus; it's more of a general feeling of discontent.  Of course, there are those who are trying to fuel the fires just to see destruction.  What the movement needs is a leader, but personally, I don't know that there are many leaders around today.  Certainly not in politics.  (In either party.)

Where is our country going?  I'm not sure, but I worry.  If I remember Shakespeare's Julius Caesar correctly, the conspirators didn't fear the people because they believed that with the head -- Caesar -- cut off, then the body would flounder around helplessly.  At times, I see our country that way -- as a headless body with all its parts trying to squirm in opposite directions.  I wonder when the pressures from all the differing viewpoints will pull hard enough to tear our body apart completely.  In Julius Caesar, Mark Antony and two other members of a triumverate established a kingdom that basically oppressed the people.

Just a thought.  Feel free to disagree.  You won't get me to change my mind, but it is still a free country the last time I checked.

Thinking about England and the rest of the United Kingdom

Chaucer

Greetings to my readers from the United Kingdom.  My total there shot up by several just in the last few days. I hope to visit there before I die.  I would like to show the people from the United Kingdom that Americans are not all idiots; in fact, most of us are just fine people. The history, the literature of the United Kingdom-- nothing beats them. Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Byron, Shelly, Keats, Henry Fielding, Charles Dickens, and George Orwell.  1984 is one of my favorite books of all time.  I am also amazed every time I read Mary Shelly's Frankenstein.  I almost forgot one of my all-time favorites, Chaucer.  I remember making an A in a Chaucer class I took with one of the primary reasons for getting that grade being that I read middle English so well.  Well, at least I read it the way my instructor thought it should be read.  American literature does not have the depth and diversity of English literature.  In college, I took English literature I and II, Shakespeare, the Victorian age, the Romantic Age, and Chaucer. I remember a friend of mine stating that we needed to have our kids reading more nonfiction rather than stuff written by dead white Europeans.  I thought that was one of the most ridiculous comments I have ever heard.

Well, my dreams of Camelot and the English countryside and the Kathcart castle will have to wait as I come back to the United States.  We are under a tornado watch which always scares the hell out of me.  Does England have tornadoes.  I really don't know for sure.  I know they get a lot of rain.  Missouri gets everything.  Sometimes, in a 24 hour period.

I really should go because I need to grade papers.  If I ever went to England, I would have to take myself some coffee.  I'm not that big on tea.  (I know that's a typical idiotic American stereotype of English lifestyle.) Bye now.  If anyone from the United Kingdom wanted to tell me about where he or she lives and works, I would love to hear it.

I live in a small town of less than 1,000 people.  Arcadia, MO.

Excerpt from Lancelot: Morgan's first attack on King Arthur

Molly Quinn from Castle:  If Lancelot were ever made into a movie this would  be the person I wanted to play Morgan.

 
   Arthur protested, “I’m not going to let my men die–“
     “Your men do not need a dead king. Lady Gabriella,
Sir Stephen. Go with them. Make sure all make it out
safely. Go, now, all of you.”
     “Don’t worry, Arthur. I will lead the men. If
     Iwillatan is with the others, they will need me anyway.”
Arthur’s men gathered around Merlin.
     “We are going to be attacked. Prepare yourself for
battle.”
     They pulled their swords.
     “We ride!”
     “For King Arthur!” Sir Hector shouted.
     “For King Arthur!” They echoed.
     One hundred horses thundered through the gates of
Camelot.
     Just outside the city there was a plain, a large area of
flat land that had been cultivated for years.
     Merlin saw Morgan’s armies march out of the wood
and into the clearing. A group of archers knelt as Arthur’s
men spurred their horses.
     “Shields up before we get in range.”
     Just then, the archers fired.
     “What the devil are they doing?”
     Arthur’s men raised their shields, but it didn’t seem
to matter. The distance between the two armies should have
been too great for the arrows to reach and even then they
should have been blocked by the shields, but Merlin
watched in terror as knights fell off their horses as arrows
that somehow found open spaces pierced them.
     “I have seen this before,” Merlin thought. The
archers raised their bows once more. “This will be a
slaughter,” He thought.
     He whispered the words of magic and as soon as the
arrows flew, they swerved off course and missed their
targets. Then, Arthur’s men poured through the enemy
soldiers and bounced them left and right, many trampled
under horses’ hooves.
     Then, Morgan’s riders surged forward and met
Arthur’s soldiers. Their swords crashed together like
thunder. Merlin swung his staff at one of the riders and
connected with his helmet. The rider should have dropped
on the spot but he rode on. Merlin’s arms tingled with pain,
and his staff vibrated.
     “There is magic here,” he said and rode his horse
forward as the armies engaged in hand-to-hand combat. He
rode past the fighting into a dark part of the forest. He
closed his eyes to concentrate. Magic blazed like a signal
fire, and when he was sure of where he was, he dismounted
and sneaked into the woods.
     He had no trouble finding the trail because the heat
of the magic intensifying led him to its origin.
He thought of the children’s game where one child
hides something and another tries to find it. He had
definitely gotten warmer.
     He found her on a hill overlooking the battle. By her
side stood a young girl probably 16 or so: Morgan.
He shuddered when he looked beneath the illusion
this Iwillatan used to hide her true appearance. Although he
could not see the battle, he knew how it went by the
exclamations of joy from Morgan’s mouth.
     If he had known what would happen to the girl, he
would have – but he stopped his line of thinking. What
happened had happened, and all he could do was curse his
imperfect gift of precognition.
     He circled to the bottom of the hill behind them. He
did not dare use any kind of spell to help himself because he
believed that Iwillatan would feel it just as he had felt her
power.
     He crawled carefully up the hill and drew close to its
crest.
     Morgan laughed the beautiful, clear laugh of a child,
but Merlin knew that she laughed at the slaughter of
Arthur’s knights.
     This realization suddenly infuriated him. He jumped
to his feet, and before either could react, lunged forward and
cracked Iwillatan with his staff. She staggered forward and
dropped to her knees, but she did not lose consciousness.
     “You!” An invisible forced knocked Merlin back.
     He reciprocated with a force so hard, Iwillatan
flipped backward, turning a complete 360 degree circle in
the air and then crashing on the ground.
     Merlin jumped to her prone form. He pressed the
end of his staff against her chest. “Don’t move.”
Although she squirmed like a worm on a hook, she
could not escape from Merlin.
     “Don’t hurt her!” Morgan cried. She started forward.
     “Don’t move, Morgan, or I will kill this creature on
the spot.”
     “Who are you?” Merlin asked and pressed down
with his staff. Iwillatan hissed. “Tell me now!”
     “I am the evil one.”
     “What are you talking about?”
     “The serpent.”
     “I have not heard of you.”
     “These people bring in their unknown god, but they
don’t realize that where he goes I follow.”
     “What do you want?”
     “To destroy.”
     Morgan burst into tears. “Please, don’t hurt her.
She’s the only one who cares about me.”
     “Do you know what this really is?”
     “The only mother I ever had.”
     Merlin raised his staff. “Reveal your true nature.”
     “No!” Iwillatan screamed. The air around her
shimmered and her form began to shrivel and shrink. Her
skin turned brown and leathery. Her legs and arms
disappeared. Her tongue flickering from her mouth was
forked. Her eyes turned yellow with black slits.
     “Do you want this loathsome evil as your mother?”
     On the ground, coiling, hissing, and spitting was a
serpent. Morgan’s eyes narrowed on the serpent as it
slithered toward her. In horror, Merlin watched as the snake
slithered up her leg and coiled around Morgan’s waist.
Morgan patted its head like it was a pet.
     “You better look after your men, Merlin.”
     He had forgotten! He whirled around to see the
battle. Arthur’s men had rallied and were beating back
Morgan’s army.
     Merlin turned back around, but they were gone. He
heard a ghostly voice, “It isn’t over.” Then hissing filled his
head and reverberated in his brain.
***

Saturday! Saturday! S A T U R D A Y! Saturday!

I doubt if many people remember the Bay City Rollers, but my title is an homage to them.  Saturday Night was their one hit.  It was catchy; I can still sing it in my head.  We all love the weekends.

This promises to be a good one.  Less than three days ago, it got down in the 20's (Fahrenheit) here in Missouri, and it is supposed to get up to around 70 today.  The sun is shining brightly.  It is no wonder that so many people get sick.  When a person wakes up in the morning this time of year in Missouri, he or she has no idea what to expect.  It is changeable.  I envision two huge celestial beings, Mr. Winter and Mr. Fall, wrestling on some cosmic wrestling mat, and when one gets the upper hand, the weather reflects it.  Of course, we all know that Winter will indeed win out within the next few weeks.  We have had a nice fall.  A lot of people will say that it went right from summer to winter with little fall, but that isn't really true.  While the transitional seasons do seem to be shorter in Missouri (spring and fall), we do get them.  Both are my favorite times of the year.

To me both seasons bring expectations that are kind of ephemeral -- that is hard to define.  I know spring means the end of the school year for me, and I always expect I will accomplish so much in the summer.  Here it is 53 years gone past, and I haven't accomplished what I want --most likely, never will.  I don't know what it is about fall.  There is the expectation of the holidays, I believe; also, the knowledge that time is slipping by and another year is about to end.  Also, there is restlessness for me.  I always feel like something is going to happen.  It doesn't, and I wind up disappointed, because I -- as a half full kind of person -- always expect something good.  Just the fact that I haven't had fantastic things happen in my life should make me more of a realistic person, but I don't think I'll go there.  Don't get me wrong.  I thank God daily for the blessings I do have, but I have always had unrealistic expectations.

Part of my optimism, I think, comes from the cyclothymia I have.  I have dark, depressing days, but I always bounce back.  Well, enough for now.  I hope you have enjoyed hearing from the common joe.

Experiment

I am trying to type an update with an ipad2 keyboard, but I don't think I am doing a good job with it. I am slow with my typing, but I really love the iPad, and can get the kinds of apps I need to do a lot of my writing. It's a different experience, and I would really have to get used to it.
It's been an expensive day, over four hundred bucks to get my car fixed. Water pump went out. In Life there is always something coming along to take away a chunk of cash unexpectedly. The average person can never get ahead. We live from paycheck to paycheck. We are the common joes of the world.
We are watching Fringe tonight. It is a little weird, but I truly enjoy its novelty. I need to write tomorrow if I can get my sorry act together. Well, I have written enough for now.

Veteran's Day

Today's date. Make note of it 11-11-2011.  There's a group I have heard of which has invited aliens to visit today at 11 a.m. and talk to them.  I tend to believe like most scientists that if there are aliens they are so much more advanced than we are that they wouldn't pay us much mind except to squash us like the bugs we are.

It's Veteran's day.   While I have not always agreed on our country's foreign policy, I have always respected veterans and think our country should be ashamed of the way we treat them.  The very fact that I can say that I don't always agree with my country's foreign policy and not be executed for it is the greatest testament to what their sacrifice means to us.  I have had many veterans in my family, ranging from an uncle who was in Vietnam, one who was in World War II, to a nephew who was in the Mideast, to a father-in-law who was in a tank when France was liberated.  I have the utmost respect for each and every armed serviceman.  God bless them and keep them safe.  I hope our President brings them home soon.

My cat has been on my lap as I write this, so if the typing is wonky, forgive me.  She finally got off my arms for a second.  For some reason, I have been the object of his affection lately.  See picture below.

It was in the 20's last night.  It's supposed to be 60 today.

I need to get going.  Have a good day.  Thank a veteran.

A New Day

Yesterday, I was in a bad mood that I didn't really get over, but I did eventually sleep it off.  Sounds like I'm talking about a hangover, doesn't it?  I have this thing called cyclothymia which affects my moods.  I don't have to have a reason to be depressed.  Sometimes I get depressed for no other reason than the cyclothemia wants me to be depressed.  Then there are other times when I am happy for no apparent reason.  Cyclothymia is a long distance cousin to bipolar disorder.  Actually, now that I think about it; I did have some reason to be depressed yesterday which I went to great lengths to describe in detail, so I won't repeat myself.

I have written nothing in three days because I don't know what I should write.  I have a few ideas floating in my brain, but nothing concrete yet.  I haven't heard back from my nephew who took my lyrics and was going to write the music to it.  Perhaps when he finishes I will feel inspired to pursue that.  I told him I wanted an Alice Cooper, "I'm 18" feel to the music.  The person who sings it is a religious fanatic who thinks a mentally ill young man is possessed by the devil or one of his demons, and he wants to exorcise it.  This characterization is not much of a stretch, but that is a story I will save for another day.

It's supposed to get down to 32 degrees tonight in my area, but by the weekend it is supposed to be in the 60's.  Only in Missouri does this happen.  I remember once when I was in College at Cape Girardeau.  It was one of those -- and I don't mean to be politically incorrect when I say this -- Indian summers in Missouri and the temperatures had climbed in the middle 60's.  The weather forecast called for rain, dropping temperatures which would cause ice, and then blizzard like conditions.  Overnight, and I remember this so vividly because there was a dance marathon going on in which my roommate and his girlfriend, a very dear friend of mine, were involved in, the temperature dropped into the teen and we would up with 18 inches of ice and snow.  The wind blew so strongly that you could barely walk across campus.

That's all for this trip down memory lane.  I'll be signing off.

Gray day, gray mood. It's raining.

The weather matches my mood today.  It's gray and rainy outside.  Although it's not even 5 p.m. it is getting dark out. Right now, the temperature is about 60, so it isn't cold.  I don't know how long that will last though.  We might possibly get some storms tonight.  Storms scare me.  They didn't use to, but it seems as if the incidences of tornadoes are increasing every year.  After the Joplin, MO tornado, I am even more frightened.  I just checked out the weather forecast and the major storms have been taken out of the forecast. I'm grateful for that.

Let me tell you why I am a bit depressed. First, I got my comments back from April Lurie who, as I expected, did not like my summary.  The story is too much.  Too depressing.  I wanted it to work.  I wanted to develop it because I think I need to.  I am halfway thinking about scrapping the entire thing and doing something totally different.  I need to get my act together because I am supposed to finish this novel within the year.  I might try to do something with Walt Michaels.  I need to think and to pray.  Yes, believe it or not I do pray about my writing.

School was uninspiring today.  It wasn't that anything bad happened; it was just a blah day.  I have so much school work to do.  I imagine I will get into that after I eat dinner, or as we folks in the south more regularly call it, supper.  I need to do my plans for my two night classes, and I need to grade some papers.  That is the life of a teacher.

I did get a IPAD 2.  I love it, and I've only had it for one night.  I seriously considered getting an Amazon Kindle Fire, but when it came down to it, I decided I could do more with the Ipad 2.

I wish I had some words of wisdom, something interesting to say, but I really don't.  Sorry.

Defeat of Rittlock? Lancelot and the Tides of Time excerpt.

 
 One of his bodyguards stood in front of Lancelot
with his silver weapon pointed straight at the knight. Then,
the magic appeared. The crowd shouted. Lancelot saw
Rittlock's gaze shift to the skies, and his eyes widened in
fear. Lancelot looked up and saw the white unicorn. He
lunged forward. The guard started to push the button but he
unexpectedly groaned. He fell forward with a bolt sticking
from his back and dropped the silver magic. Lancelot left
his feet in a dive just as Rittlock grabbed Trilesa and
screamed, "Send him!"
     Lancelot hit Trilesa and Rittlock at the same time as
the blue beam hit. Seconds later, he was rolling on the
ground with Rittlock and Trilesa in his arms.
     He rolled apart from them.
     "Seize him," Rittlock screamed.
     Lancelot whirled to see three guards coming toward
him. He also saw Trilesa pull a short sword from a sheath
on her leg. She tripped one guard who fell face first into the
dust, and she drove her sword into the chest of the second.
     The third one stopped.
     "Kill him, you fool!"
     The guard ran.
     "Lancelot, watch out!"
     Rittlock had a sword and he was swinging it at
Lancelot’s neck. Lancelot ducked and drove his shoulder
into Rittlock’s midsection, knocking the breath out of him.
He lifted him in the air and heaved him over his shoulder.
Rittlock hit the ground, but quickly rolled away from
Lancelot and scrambled back on his feet. At the same time,
he struck Trilesa in the face and knocked her sideways so
that she stumbled and dropped her sword. Rittlock grabbed
it and held it to Trilesa's throat.
     "Don't move or I'll bleed her like the sow she is."
     "Your reign is over, Rittlock."
     "For now, Lancelot."
     "There's always another time, just as there was
before."
     "Before?"
     "Poor stupid Lancelot. You don't even know who I
am."
     "I don’t care who you are."
     "Rittlock's a name I got from my mother, Ilsa, but I
got my life from your precious Merlin."
     "You liar!"
     "Do you think you are the only noble blood of the
Round Table whose soul is black with sin?"
     A noise, like a peal of lightning, shattered the air.
     Lancelot watched the skies split like a melon slashed with a
sword, and the white unicorn flew through the rent. On it
sat Merlin. As Rittlock turned his head to see it, Trilesa
drove her elbows straight into his midsection. The air
whooshed out of him as he dropped his sword and lost his
grip on Trilesa. Lancelot grabbed the sword Rittlock had
nearly killed him with. As Trilesa rolled away, Lancelot
threw the sword like an axe. It hit Rittlock in the chest;
blood exploded from the wound and Rittlock fell.

     Lancelotstarted to him to see if he were alive; Rittlock smiled and
pulled one of the silver weapons from his pouch and turned
it on himself. Just as Lancelot reached for him, he pressed
the button. This time, red light enveloped Rittlock and he
disappeared.
     Trilesa rushed to Lancelot who took her in his arms.
As he kissed her, he heard a voice.
     "Well done, Sir Lancelot. Not exactly the way I
would have done it, but it worked."
     "Merlin."
     "It is my pleasure to finally see you again, Lady
Trilesa."
     “It is you!” she said and hugged him. “I knew you’d
be back.”
     Their conversation puzzled Lancelot.
     “We know each other,” Merlin said. “I met Ilsa
here.”
     "Merlin, is Rittlock truly…”
     "I am afraid so. Even wizards have weak moments,
and the result of mine will haunt me forever."
     "But he's dead."
     "Maybe. Maybe not."
     "Where did he go?"
     "Another time, another place. But I don't want to
think about that right now," Merlin said.
     "Where are we?"
     "Teleported to another part of the village near his
prisons."
     "Helen!" Trilesa said.
     "Safe. We’ve already found her," Merlin said.
     "Merlin, we have to go back to the town square."
     "No hurry, Lancelot, the knights have defeated his
army."
     "The knights?"
     "Of the Roundtable. You have already seen some of
them."
     "In the cave."
     "You will be pleased to know that Gawaine,
Gumpley and Galena have joined them. And you two-if you
wish. But I will explain this later. Right now, we must
release the prisoners."
***
     Dusk came and with it, great celebration. Families
reunited after Lancelot, Trilesa, and Merlin released them
from their prison cells.
     The Knights of the Roundtable sat at a big feast
prepared by Jorn and his family. Eric and his wife and
children also joined them. In all, 40 people sat together.
     As Gawaine told them his tale of the flying ponies
and the great unicorn, Lancelot listened patiently.
     "I thought Mordred destroyed the Roundtable. I
don't understand this."
     "I am the wizard, Lancelot," Merlin began. "The
stories that I live time backwards are not quite true, but I do
live long, on up into the days when science does so many
wonders that magic is unnecessary and even beyond. The
silver column is one of many space/time portals. Its key,
your sword, was lost when the two knights you found were
murdered."
     “With Morgan’s help, Rittlock closed all the spacetime
portals.”
     “Why is this time portal so important?”
     "It is the one that leads back to Camelot."

World Views

Cathcart Castle

Russia 35 Canada 13 Germany 12 India 12 Chile 11 United Kingdom 5 Indonesia 5 Armenia 2 France 2

These are some of my foreign page viewers.  It amazes me that people in Armenia can read my blog if they wish.  35 people from Russia?  When I look at some of these numbers, a variety of thoughts go through my head.  One is how little of the world I have seen.  I would love to visit these places.  If I were a worldwide traveler, my first visit would be to Europe.  I don't have any views from Spain,but I would love to visit there.  My high school has had a couple of foreign exchange students from Spain. Spain seems so exotic and so fun. And France.  I would love to visit France.  I know that the French don't tend to like Americans, and I can't say that I blame them because many of us are louts and uncouth, close minded dolts.  Americans make fun of the French too.  We forget that if not for the French we would likely still be under English rule.  We would not have won our independence if not for their economic and military help.  I would love to visit France, and I would hope that the French would not find me an ignorant lout.  We're not all like that.  And England.  When I was in college, I took several English literature courses.  Who wouldn't want to go to the country that inspired such writers as Chaucer, Shakespeare (maybe), Dickens, and the romantic poets. I would love to see London and the English countryside.  My ancestors are Scott-Irish.  There is even a castle in Scotland called Cathcart castle.  The Lord of the castle went crazy and killed one wife and was about to kill another before he was caught.  Sounds like my dad's side of the family.  Italy.  I would love to see Rome.  Plus, I would like to see Venice before the city sinks completely.  There is so much in the world I would like to see, but I will never get to.  I won't even get to see all that I want to see in the United States.

I'll never have the money to be able to travel to these places, but I can dream.

Remains of Cathcart Castle

Fall Day

It's been one of those nice fall days that comes around every now and then this time of year.  It was full of sunshine, and temperatures warmed up near 58-59 degrees Fahrenheit. (I'm not sure what that is Celsius. 15 degrees or so. I do better with the linear measurements and the weight measurements.  I wish America would actually join the rest of the world and go to the metric system.) I went to my parents' to visit with two of my sisters, my brother, and mom and dad.  We had an enjoyable visit.  My brother and I are just alike in many ways though he is five years older than I.

I'm excited that I get an extra hour of sleep tonight.  The little things mean a lot. With the time change, it will be lighter in the morning when I get up, but it will be darker in the evening.  It will be dark by 5:30 p.m.  The long winter nights tend to depress me.  I can't imagine living in a place where it's dark for weeks at a time.  One of the things I really liked about the Michigan area when we vacationed there a couple years ago was that it really didn't get dark until after ten.  It messed with my sleep a little bit, but I loved the longer daylight hours.  I just loved Michigan period.

At 53, I have accomplished many of the goals I had when I was in high school.  I wanted to be an English teacher, lo and behold, I've taught English for 28 years.  I wanted to make money from my writing, and I do, though it isn't a lot.  (Definitely not enough for me to quit my day job yet.)  I wanted to get married and have children.  I did get married (and am still that way), and we have had one beautiful, smart daughter.

Even though I have achieved many of my goals, I don't think I should quit.  Bob Dylan has a lyric in one of his songs that says, "He not busy being born is busy dying."  That's so true.  I still have a couple of goals, but I don't know if I will every accomplish them. I really want to teach full time at a college.  I have taught part time for Mineral Area College for 22 years but never full time.  I would also like to be a successful young adult fiction novelist.  Though I have published YA stuff in a couple of POD publishers, I have not had the success I want.  I've had more success with plays and educational material.

I still have some time, but when does the time come when I can say, "I've done enough."?
Today Andy Rooney died.  He retired a month ago.  I didn't always agree with Andy, but I enjoyed listening to him.  Former Cardinal pitcher Bob Forsch died also.  He was 61 and just a few weeks ago, he threw out the first pitch in the seventh game of the World Series.  He pitched two no hitters in his career, one more than Bob Gibson.

I love the water.  Something about it calms me and stirs my creative juices.  I believe that in some way all of us are connected.  When I was in college, I studied something called the universal subconsciousness. It espoused the belief that all creatures have this deep soul-level connection, and that there are certain times when existence strums the strings of creation and humans can hear it.  Not really hear it though, feel it. I know this is a bit obtuse and abstract, but I think we all feel a connectedness sometimes.  I feel it most when I am around large bodies of water.  Two times in particular this feeling, that I got a glimpse of the pure awesomeness of the universe were in Colorado Springs on the top of Pike's Peak and in Michigan on the beaches of the great lakes.

I think the water does it for me because it makes me think of life, birth, baptism and a host of other things.  Langston Huges wrote an essay called Salvation which used water images.  He's one of my favorite writers.  In Salvation he recounts a story of when he was a young boy, and his church held a revival.  His aunt had told him that people saw Jesus when they were saved.  Langston sat peacefully in the church until every single child except for him had gone to the altar to be saved.  He didn't want to go because he kept expecting to see Jesus.  It's a wonderful essay about disillusionment, but it isn't what I would call anti-Christian.

I played trivia tonight at Central High School to benefit Central's project graduation.  I was a little nervous about wearing my North County High School sweat shirt in there, but no one mugged me.  When I was in high school, Central and North County were bitter rivals.  Not so anymore.  At any rate, my team, the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) which is primarily composed of Central and North County teacher won handily.  It was a lot of fun.  I have much room in my brain for useless knowledge.

superstition

My blog got 666 page views last month.  Shudder.  Does that mean that my blog is demonic?

November novel writing month update.

Good evening to one and all.  Well, I'm not writing enough to stay on pace to complete my novel in November, but I have been writing every day.  I would feel happy to finish half of it, but I will settle for a third.  I submitted my outline to my Children's Lit Institute instructor to see what she thought of what I was doing, but I am still waiting to hear from her.   I'm afraid she won't like it.  If I keep getting rejected I may ask CLI to refund my money and just go it alone.  I have about 5,000 words of the novel finished but I have been writing on it for a couple of weeks.  I've done four pages the last two days, and I need to complete six daily if I am going to stay on track.  See what I mean.

I think I'm going to get an IPAD.  I talked to someone who had one, and she said that she thinks it's wonderful.  I still like the sound of the Amazon Kindle Fire, but I don't want just another tablet.  I want one with a lot of apps and one that I can see movies on and  listen to music.  The Ipad has a lot of neat stuff on it though.  I hate making decisions.

The temperature has dropped about 20 degrees in the last 24 hours, which is fairly typical for the kind of weather changes Missouri has.  It's misty and windy.  November at it's finest.  It was cold and gray all day today.  How dreary.  It's no wonder that people get SADD.  Still, fall is beautiful in so many ways.  It's a melancholy kind of beauty, however.

I'm doing what I tell my composition students not to do: write in short, choppy sentences.  A blog is kind of like a journal, and with my real journal, I tend to not worry so much about sentence structure and grammar.  Since, however, the public will actually be reading this (at least I hope so), I need to be more careful about how I write.

I've been listening to some good new music lately.  Recently, I wound up with two new country CD's.  One is Dwight Yoakam singing Buck Owens songs.  Buck Owens was a great songwriter and musician.  I didn't like to hear him sing much, but amazingly, many of his songs are ones I listened to when I was a kid, and I can still sing along with them.  One of my all-time favorite Buck Owens songs is "Act Naturally."  The Beatles did a version of it on their Help album also.

The other CD I've listened to is Glen Campbell's latest one.  I've not really ever been much of a Glen Campbell fan, but I was curious about this CD.  I had read that he was suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's.  I downloaded the album on Rhapsody and really liked it.  Long story short, I now have it.

Finally, since I am a fan of Zooey Deschanel, I decided to download one of the She and Him CD's, and I discovered that I also like it very much.  She sang the national anthem at my beloved Cardinals World Series game, so she will always maintain a position of honor in my heart -- not to mention that she is very fine looking.  I haven't seen any episodes of her new show yet, but I do intend to watch them online eventually.

Well, that's about everything I have to say.  Goodbye for now.

www.countryrokmusic.com